The Angel Whispered Danger (6 page)

“Olives should still be okay,” I said, turning my head to avoid the cloying Misty Glade.

Aunt Leona’s expression told me she’d sooner eat river mud and she muttered something about fat and calories.

“Saw Grady out front,” I said. “Looks great. The big city must agree with him.” My cousin had moved up a couple of rungs in his company when he accepted a position in Chattanooga the year before.

She nodded, pride beaming from every pore. She and Uncle Lum had adopted Grady when he was eight and slathered so much attention on him, it’s a wonder he hadn’t turned out rotten through and through. But he hadn’t, and I’d been grateful during our growing-up years for an ally against the obnoxious Deedee.

“I just wish he’d settle down now. It’s time.” Aunt Leona got eggs from the refrigerator and set them to boil.

“Is he seeing anybody special?” I asked.

“Not that I know of. Especially after what happened to Beverly. Grady thought—well, we all thought something might come of that.”

“A shame he didn’t go up there to see her,” I said. My mother had told me the two only communicated from a distance.

“Maybe he was afraid of being hurt again. I know he must regret it now, but I think Grady wanted to give things a little more time—didn’t want to rush things.”

“Aunt Leona, that was . . . what . . . eleven years ago, and Beverly was only eighteen when they stopped seeing each other!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down,” my aunt warned. “Wouldn’t want him to hear us. Grady doesn’t like to talk about it.”

My aunt had put eggs on to boil and the sulfur smell was now competing with Misty Glade. I stepped back as far as I could, trying not to be obvious.

“Well, I found a couple, but I’m afraid the worms got to them first.” The screen door slammed as Uncle Lum wandered in from the back porch and set two tomatoes on the counter. He squinted at me from under the brim of his canvas hat. “Kate! It’s good to see you, sugar. I’d hug you, but it’s a mite sticky out there, and the mosquitoes about chewed me up. If Uncle Ernest doesn’t start using some kind of insect control, they’re gonna carry him off.” He nodded toward the living room. “You seen him yet?”

I grinned. “In there buried in a book.”

“One of those tomes about the War Between the States, I guess,” my uncle said. “Bet he’s read just about everything written on the subject.” He peered into the pot of eggs and rolled his eyes at me behind Aunt Leona’s back. “Maybe he’s trying to find out where Great-great-great-granddaddy Templeton hid that Confederate gold.”

“Columbus Roundtree, you big silly! Your great . . . whatever-granddaddy never hid any gold around here.” Leona tied a faded apron about her twenty-two-inch waist and set vinegar and mustard on the counter with a double thunk.

“Makes a darn good story, though. Besides, how do you know he didn’t?” Uncle Lum winked at me.

“Grady and I dug holes all over the place looking for that gold when we were little,” I said. “Uncle Ernest told us it was buried out behind the house. I think he just wanted us to dig a place for him to plant tomatoes!”

“Which reminds me, if we’re going to have tomatoes with that barbecue tonight, I’d better run down to the J and G and see if Jim has any local produce.” Uncle Lum made it a point not to glance at his wife, who shuddered slightly as the mention of barbecue.

My aunt decided to clean out the cabinets, and since I wanted no part of that, I slipped quietly out of the kitchen. Uncle Ernest was engrossed in his book, so I wandered out to the porch where Grady lay back in a rocker, hands across his stomach, with the dog at his feet.

“It’s a shame you can’t relax,” I said, pulling up a chair beside him.

He immediately jumped to his feet. “Hey, don’t sit down! Uncle Ernest tells me Deedee and family are on their way. Let’s go down by Webster’s wall and see if the blackberries are ripe.”

Webster Templeton was our ancestor who was supposed to have buried the gold—or so Cousin Violet claims, and the crumbling stone walls of what was left of his house was a favorite berry-picking spot.

I grabbed a pail from the back porch and scooted myself with insect repellent, glad I had worn long pants that day. “Maybe Ella will make us one of her famous blackberry cobblers,” I said, referring to the time the housekeeper forgot the sugar, as we made our way along the familiar path.

Grady made a gagging noise. “I hope you’ve learned to cook. Mom’s gotten to where she doesn’t even buy sugar anymore.”

“You furnish the blackberries; I’ll take care of the cobbler,” I assured him. “And where is Ella anyway? Did you know your mother is in there cleaning out her cabinets?”

My cousin groaned. “I doubt if she’ll even notice. You’ll have to admit they probably need it, and Ella’s getting too old to stand on ladders and scrub those high shelves. Hadn’t seen her lately, but she was looking for her cat right after I got here. Said it got out somehow.”

The housekeeper always kept her cat, Dagwood, in her own part of the house. The animal was afraid, she claimed, of Amos the collie, but frankly, I think it was the other way around.

I was relieved to find the path wasn’t as overgrown with weeds as I had expected. Someone—probably Casey, the writer-caretaker—had mown it recently and the air smelled of freshly cut grass. I took a deep breath, glad to be relaxing in the company of an old friend in a dear, familiar place.

We found a treasure of ripe berries tumbling over the ruined foundations of the old house and soon had the pail almost full.

“So, who else is coming?” Grady asked, popping a couple of blackberries into his mouth.

I was sure he must have guessed there was a problem between Ned and me, and was waiting for me to explain, but I wasn’t ready. Not yet, anyway.

“Ma Maggie, of course, then Marge and Burdette and their bunch. Josie’s with them at the pool . . . Deedee and Cynthia . . . and I guess Parker will be here, too.” Deedee was married to a perfectly nice man who seemed to think she was normal, or if he didn’t, he accepted her the way she was. Lucky Deedee!

“And Cousin Violet,” I added, smiling. It was hard not to smile at the mention of our eccentric relative.

Grady untangled himself from a briar. “She still painting everything that doesn’t move?”

“As far as I know. Mama says she’s painted her porch furniture three times this year.” It had always been a family joke that if you stood still long enough, Violet would have a go at you with her paintbrush.

“Let’s go home the other way,” I suggested after the pail was full. “Maybe we’ll find some early apples in the old orchard.” The pathway looped from the ruins of the earlier house, past Remeth churchyard, then meandered above the river for a while before circling what once had been an apple orchard within sight of our uncle’s place. It was farther that way, but the trees would give more shade, and my shirt was already sticking to me.

“Have you met the new girlfriend?” I asked as we started back.

“Whose new girlfriend?”

“Uncle Ernest’s. Belinda somebody. Marge says they seem to have a thing going.”

“First a horse, and now a romance! What’s up with Uncle Ernest lately?”

“What horse?” I asked.

“Why, Shortcake! Haven’t you seen her? Strawberry roan and wild as a mountain lion. Won’t let anybody near her.

“Now, tell me about this Belinda,” Grady said. “Do you think she’ll show up for the reunion?”

But I didn’t have a chance to answer because we heard somebody moaning just then, and it seemed to be coming from a nearby ravine.

The sounds were coming from a wooded area to our left. Dense with hardwoods and strewn with boulders, the terrain dropped in giant stair steps to the twisting stream below. Ferns and rhododendrons created a dark curtain of green. I couldn’t see a thing.

The noises were almost animal-like in their timbre. A wildcat could be waiting to pounce, or a protective mother bear. I could hear myself breathing, and whatever was out there probably could, too. “What
is
it?” I set the pail of berries beside the path and grabbed Grady’s arm.
Bears like berries, so you’re welcome to them
, I thought. Just leave us alone!

I felt him stiffen as the groaning came again, this time ending in a thin wail.

“Sounds like somebody’s hurt!” Grady said. “Must be down there somewhere. Wait here.”

“Oh, no you don’t! You’re not leaving me here for bear bait! I’m coming, too.” After a fleeting moment’s consideration, I decided to let my cousin take the lead, and padded along behind him while he battled the almost-impenetrable underbrush. Branches whacked me in the face, and vines grabbed at my ankles. Crouching sideways, I slid down a mossy bank, feeling stones roll under my feet. And since the tail of Grady’s shirt was handy, I snatched it for support.

With an arm out to signal silence, Grady stopped to listen. I glimpsed the river far below, but we were too high above it to hear the rush of water.

“Are you sure it’s a person?” I whispered, and he pointed to something I couldn’t see.

“Down there,” he said. “Thought I saw something move.”

Was he thinking, as I was, of that awful day almost twenty years before when he and Beverly and I had discovered the body of a murdered vagrant not far from where we now stood? It was all I could do to keep from turning and clawing my way back up the hill.

All I could see below was a network of vines in a jungle of rhododendrons. Poplar and sourwood, oak and hickory competed for the sun and shut out the light, briars tore at my hair. “You’d better know what you’re talking about,” I said.

Grady reached for my hand. “Watch your step, there’s kind of a drop-off here.”

Only when we inched our way down and could get a better look did I see what looked like a bundle of old clothes at the bottom of an overhang.

The bundle moved. It wore green plaid pants and a pink flowered blouse. Glasses, miraculously unbroken, hung from a chain around her neck. Ella!

“She’s still alive.” Crouching beside her, Grady held her fragile old wrist. “We’ve got to get help—now!”

Ella’s eyes were closed, and dirt and abrasions stood out against the pale background of her face. I touched her hair, whispered her name. She whimpered.

“I’ll go,” I said, scrambling to my knees. “The guesthouse is closer. I’ll get the caretaker to call.”

“No!” Grady put a hand on my shoulder. “Mom said Casey left this morning. Some kind of family emergency. It’ll be faster if I go, Kate. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He was already halfway up the hillside before I could answer.

I didn’t like staying behind, but Grady was right, I thought, as I knelt beside the injured woman. He could run faster, yell louder and Ella needed help sooner rather than later. She lay curled with one arm pinned beneath her, her leg at an unnatural angle. Small twigs and leaves were caught in her thinning gray hair. I dared not move her, but I attempted to make her as comfortable as possible. Gently I wiped her face with a tissue, then took off my blouse and folded it as a buffer between Ella’s face and the scratchy bush that probably stopped her fall. No time for modesty now. Surely, whoever answered Grady’s summons had seen a bra before.

“I’m right here,” I told her, covering her hand with my own. “Help is on the way, Ella. We’re going to get you out of here.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.

Her eyes opened briefly, and there was pain there—and something else. She struggled to speak. “Dag—”

“Dagwood? Is that what you were doing when you fell? Looking for your cat?” I stroked her cheek, hoping Ella would open her eyes again. “I’m sure he’s all right. Why, I’ll bet he’s already back home by—”

“Not fell,” she whispered. “Pushed.”

“What?” I leaned closer.

Again Ella opened her eyes, and this time she looked up at the ledge where she must have been standing when she fell. “Pushed,” she said, her fingers clutching mine.

I could tell she wanted me to look there, too, so I did, but of course, there was no one there. If anyone had pushed the housekeeper off the ledge, they would be long gone by now. But why in the world would anybody want to hurt Ella Stegall?

“Ella, are you sure?” I asked. “Maybe you lost your footing? If you were standing on moss, it can be slippery, and it’s easy for rocks to become dislodged . . .”

I didn’t know which of us I was trying to convince, but it didn’t matter anyway, for Ella had lapsed again into unconsciousness.

Please don’t die!
The ground was deep in leaves from years before, and I made a little sitting nest for myself beside her and watched her chest go up and down. But what if it stopped? I had taken a course in CPR when Josie was small, and I went over the steps in my mind: Call for help . . . we’d done that . . . check pulse . . . listen for breathing . . .

Something snapped in the woods below me and I know I must have jumped, but Ella didn’t notice. Was somebody watching? If Ella had been pushed from the ledge, was the person who did it waiting to come back and finish the job—and me?

A bird chirped from a limb above me, and a squirrel scurried through the underbrush. I scratched a bite on my ankle, wiped the sweat from my eyes and tried to see the sky. I couldn’t. Ella made sort of a grunting noise and grimaced in pain. “It won’t be long now,” I told her, carefully removing leaves from her hair. “Stay with me, Ella. Help should be here any minute.”
God, please don’t make a liar of me!

An outcropping of rock, partially covered in moss and underbrush, jutted from beneath the place where Ella had been standing. If she had landed there on her way down, it was a wonder she was still alive.

I shifted my position and listened for the sound of approaching rescuers. Nothing. What was taking so long?

Earlier that day, Augusta had tried to warn me, only not in so many words. But warn me of what? Was my life in danger here? I felt suddenly cool, vulnerable without my blouse, as if someone were watching. The woods seemed quieter than before; not even a breeze ruffled the leaves. I tried not to think of the ghost stories we used to tell about the spooks in Remeth graveyard: the Yankee soldier who went around with a lantern looking for his lost unit; the woman who swore to haunt her young widower if he ever married again. When he did, they say his hair turned white overnight.