The Rescuer (17 page)

They walked slowly along the rock driveway from the barn back toward the house. The place was so much more than Stephen had expected. He no longer wondered what he was doing but rather how he could possibly make this work. The barn would be a perfect workshop-there were outbuildings for supplies and equipment-and he'd have so much land to use for 150

future projects. The potential here was overwhelming.

"My wife and I had good years here. I married her down there by the pond, and we had our twenty-fifth anniversary out at the barn with a good old-fashioned square dance. She started to lose her memory, but she never forgot the dance or the pond

or how much she loved to pick blackberries from that patch

f*

down the way. For me.. .I'm not growing any younger, and since

my stroke this place is more work than I can manage.

It's not like I have family to inherit it.

"I'l spend my last years quite comfortable living above the store. I've already been staying there during the winter when the weather is bad. It's even got an elevator from when it was a bank. I'l be sel ing this place. The only real question is whether the house and land need to be divided in order to find buyers."

Stephen looked around the grounds. "What are your boundaries?"

"The pond is al on my property, Bil Delhart's place comes to that line of trees near the other bank, and the homestead plot goes south to the line of trees. I own the acres across the road down to the corn Nelson had planted. There's just over a hundred acres total. There are five buildings on the property between the house, barn, garage, and two storage buildings. It would probably be better to simply tear down the house and start over than try to rebuild it."

Stephen didn't know much about living in the country.

He knew less about farming. But today neither mattered. "Neil, I'd like to buy your place."

"You feel like haggling the pnce over a cup of coffee?"

Stephen smiled. "It's been a long time since I haggled over anything more than fish bait, but I'l go a few rounds."

"Once you see inside the house, you'l change your mind about this place."

"The house is the one thing I'm capable of restonng.

There's

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no sagging and settling with age; that says whoever built it did a good job."

"Come on; I'l show you. I've already taken the furniture that mattered to me out and the last of my personal bits and pieces. Everything that's left can either go with the property or be sold at auction. Some items in the house go back to my parents, and the farm equipment in the storage barns runs, but it's old enough I don't know who would be interested in buying it."

Stephen fol owed him up the porch and into the house.

The heat was turned down and there was the feel of a place that had been unoccupied, despite rugs on the hardwood floors, aged curtains, and plants on the windowsil stil soaking up the sun. It was a simple house, but the ceilings were tal , the doorways narrow, and the windows larger than he expected. Stephen saw past the first layers to the potential. "I just sold two remodeled homes in Chicago and I've got the proceeds to work with. The land wil secure a loan for the rest."

"We'l haggle a price and handshake on a deal. Give me a lift back to the store, and then come back and walk the place. My wife would be pleased to know it was going to be a home again."

"This is a lot of place for just a handshake."

"I never did a deal with a man whose word I couldn't trust," Neil replied. "My banker and lawyer wil make it work. I'm old enough I'd rather have a few years to enjoy the proceeds than make this a drawn-out sale."

Stephen looked around the house and smiled. "Let's go get that coffee."

Craig froze at the sound of people moving around inside the old house. The insulation in the attic was scratching his skin, and just the idea that he had to be stil immediately started driving him crazy. He was hot, tired, and hadn't found anything, but Neil 152

was not a man to make this easy.

Craig knew there were gems hidden somewhere on this property or at the store, and he had to start the hunt somewhere. How many pieces were stil stashed to cool off was hard to figure out, but he thought it had to be at least forty. He figured Neil wouldn't have been able to recover any pieces hidden in hard-to- reach places since his stroke. The attic had seemed logical, but so far Craig had come up dry. He moved farther back from the attic trapdoor that went down into the utility room. He'd have to wait them out.

Another few weeks to search this place and he'd have what was here. He couldn't believe Neil was moving so fast to sel the property.

Once voices faded and he heard the sound of a vehicle leaving, Craig lowered himself down through the trapdoor. He would come back when it was dark.

There was no use being seen out here. He was too wel known in town that if someone saw him, even briefly they would recognize him. If Neil got wind that he was out here, he didn't want to predict what Neil would do. The man didn't like being double-crossed.

Knowing his luck, the pieces had probably been moved to the store and Craig would have to wait for the mans next stroke. He had to do something to get cash soon. Steal from the pharmacy, something. He was desperate for another fix, and he could only stretch out what he had for so long.

Stephen waited as Neil went into the back of his store and then came back with a ring of keys. "That barn wil make you a good workshop. I had them run extra power circuits and breakers for the building."

The banker had been more than wil ing to accept the endorsed cashier's check, the lawyer a one-page agreement, and

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with a handshake Stephen found himself the owner of the homestead. A loan for the sale of the sixty acres of farmland would process at its own speed, but as of now he was the tenant on record. He had to admire the efficiency of men who already had their ducks in a row.

Al the banker and lawyer had been waiting on was a name and price to add to the paperwork.

Stephen accepted the keys from Neil and offered his hand. "Thank you."

"You wanted a chal enge; now you have one."

Stephen walked the property It was a huge place, and he wouldf|

have to learn the art of caring for grounds that had everything

from grapevines to blackberries and several dozen types of trees

in the orchard. The yard would take a huge mower, and he'd

have to sort out the condition of the equipment acquired from

Neil. The man had taken good care of this place, but as his wife's

health slipped and he'd had less time and energy to give it, the

years of neglect showed as nature reclaimed its territory. Several

seasons of work would be needed to prune and trim it back

under control.

The gravel driveway extended from the main road to a detached garage behind and to the left of the house. A long walkway connected the garage to the house. To his left a fenced pasture hailed back to the days when livestock roamed the property. The huge barn was close to the house, and farther out were two storage buildings. He'd bought the property without an appraisal, bought the contents of the barn and storage buildings with merely a glance inside, and did the same with the house. He would have to go through each to see what he would keep and what he would sel . Stephen wasn't worried about the speed of his decision; he knew how to read a man, and the price arrived at had been fair to them both.

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This was his new home.

He took a deep breath as the depth of that hit him and leaned back against the front bumper of his truck.

Home. He had no thought of ever sel ing this land.

Mom, Dad, I wish you were here to see this.

At the thought he pul ed out his phone to cal the family he had. "Jack? What are you doing at the moment?"

"Debating the merits of which movie to see with Cassie."

"If you two have a couple days free in your work rotations, want to see my new place?"

"You picked one of the homes to fix up?"

Stephen grinned. "Nope-a house and a hundred acres of land. I'm looking at something I think is a sundial beside an ancient wel , and I own them both."

"Where are you?"

"Silveiton."

"You bought a farm? What do you know about farms?"

"That's what I said, then I shrugged and shook the man's hand. You want to come help me out here?"

"You'l have to give precise directions. I don't drive outside of concrete and pavement."

"Bring your phone along. I'l get you here."

"Do I need to pack a sleeping bag?"

Stephen laughed. "It's not that rural. The town has a nice hotel and also a bed-and-breakfast. See if Cassie wants to come and I'l get you both rooms. I need help moving furniture from the house out to the storage buildings. I'm going to gut the house back to its frame."

"Do you want me to bring your basic move-in gear, or are you coming back into town tonight?"

"I'd appreciate it if you could bring what you can."

Jack checked with Cassie. "We'l be there Friday afternoon. Have you told the others yet?"

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"I'm making the cal s now."

"I think this is great, Stephen."

He looked around his property as the sun was beginning to set. His new niece or nephew should have a chance to explore the country life, ride a horse, pet a chicken, and feed a cow. This was the perfect place.

"So do I. Cal when you get near town and I'l give you directions."

He understood why his siblings were al getting married, why they wanted to make relationships permanent. This was his own definition of permanence-a place that would show his sweat equity and maybe a future business, if he loved the carpentry work as much as he thought he would.

He considered cal ing Meghan but didn't. The speed of this decision, the unexpectedness of it, would make her cautious. His arrival into her community might feel like pressure, and he didn't want that. Their friendship would have to find new footing with the addition of the word neighbor.

He wanted the same peace she had in her life, and part of that had come from having a permanent home.

He might have selected Silverton because she was here, but he'd made the decision on the land for reasons that had little to do with her.

He needed to make peace with life, and he would begin that process here. Stephen O'Mal ey, landowner.

It was a good feeling.

Stephen elected to take a hotel room for the night rather than stay at the farmhouse, if only to al ow himself a good night's sleep and a chance to think through a plan for the next days. He stretched out on the bed and listened to the evening news while he thought about sleeping. Would Meghan understand?

He thought about cal ing her several times during the course of the evening but never reached for the phone.

There was time to tel

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her he was now her neighbor, but he didn't know yet what the ramifications were for the two of them. In a smal town they would be seeing each other often.

He rubbed his eyes and reached over to the nightstand. He'd brought Jennifer's diary with him. For the first time since Tom had sent it to him, Stephen opened the book. He had settled down to one place and given himself roots. Jennifer wasn't around to cal and tel about his new home. Every milestone in his life for the last two decades had been marked by Jennifer's quiet words. He missed her tonight. He turned pages and randomly chose an entry.

Tom's up already; I can hear him in the hotel living room. 1 can't help but smile, listening to a man try to reason with a less-than-year-old puppy about the difference between shoes and toys. Tom's patience continues to be the most fascinating part of his character. I'm blessed. We're going to join Marcus and Shari for lunch if I have the energy, and I'm trying to be good and rest to conserve my energy. I'm oddly restless and wanting to get the day started, feeling each day now that time is getting short. May Tom's patience extend to a strong-wil ed wife. He loves me, and I fear I take unfair advantage of that some days.

I heard through the family grapevine that Stephen had a bad run last night. A two-year-old in a car seat didn't survive a car crash. It hurts to think about it. I'd have been bawling, doctor or not. I've cared for too many children. Knowing Stephen, he'd be the one comforting me.

Kate said he was at the gym shooting baskets late last night and not in the mood to talk about it. Oh, I wish I'd been there just to hug the big guy.

I know the feelings that resonate for him when a child dies, when he has to relive the stress of Peg dying and being

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unable to help his own sister. Losing a child brings back that pain. Maybe the fact he has seen so much is what keeps him sane and able to keep helping. I'm going to find him before this day is done. If he's not working a double shift, he'l be working on some house. I'd page him, but to see my number would just worry him needlessly. I wish I could send him a reason to smile today. I worry about him because he's kind enough to let me.

Tom just sent the puppy in to wake me up. My toes are kind of numb and the pain in my side is growing. He'l be forced to help me walk today. I get so tired of being il . My mind stil has me fit and mobile and reality is annoying. I need to send Stephen my puppy for a visit-Butterbal is always good for a smile and a laugh.

Stephen paused after reading the two-page entry. The straightforwardness of the entry was a relief. Jennifer had never been one to focus inward, and the entry didn't trigger the emotional reaction he had feared. He remembered the child.

I got through the days because I had to. He wasn't sure what had triggered his breaking point, what had brought the fainting at the sight of blood to the forefront.

Al those emergency cal s had built inside until he final y cracked.

He thought about turning the page but instead closed the diary. He had a strong suspicion that as Jennifer's days drew to the end, not al the entries would be so easy to read.