The Story Keeper (14 page)

When I was finished, Violet steepled her thin fingers and tapped the ends together. She checked the old-fashioned clock ticking on the mantel. “You’ll have to be careful in how you
approach my nephew. He can be very . . . intractable sometimes. Too independent for his own good.”

“Pppfff!”
Helen punctuated.

“Who, Uncle Evan?” Suddenly Hannah was passing through the room again. The women clammed up immediately.

“Nothing, sweet. I thought you were gone riding.” Violet glanced at the clock a second time, pushing herself upright in her chair. Helen leaned out and looked toward the front door. My pulse sped up as I clued into the fact that Evan Hall’s arrival might be imminent.

Hannah snatched a pink camouflage baseball cap off the coatrack by the doors overlooking the pool, then wandered our way. “Forgot to get my hat.”

“Have a good ride. Molly’s coming to clean, so if you need anything while we’re gone to the doctor, she’ll be here.”

“I don’t gotta have a babysitter. I can watch after myself.”

Violet frowned. “Don’t be snippy, Hannah. It isn’t nice. Did you need something else?” She worked herself farther upward in her chair, struggling to swivel so she could see her great-granddaughter. Even that small bit of effort seemed too much. This poor woman didn’t need to be left with the care of an eleven-year-old. She wasn’t up to it.

Scuffing a foot across the tile, Hannah tipped her head, long dark hair falling over the shoulder of her sweatshirt. “I thought Jennia Beth might wanna see Blackberry.” A hopeful look came my way. “You like horses, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Violet beat me to it. “She came to talk about business, sweet. You go on and ride.”

“Business about Uncle Evan?”

“Hannah . . .”

“I just asked a question.”

“Straighten up or you’ll be in your room, rather than out having a nice time with Blackberry.”

“Are you gonna ask him about his book, like you said at Aunt Helen’s store?” Hannah ignored her grandmother and focused in my direction.

“Hannah!” The rebukes of both women rose toward the ceiling.

“It’s okay.” I felt things spinning toward some embarrassing confrontation. How often did this sort of thing happen around here?

“Never mind.” Hannah gave up and wandered away, looking glum. The three of us watched her disappear through the glass doors and climb the stone steps to the yard, her shoulders slumped and her arms hanging.

“I apologize.” Violet sagged in her seat. “She’s a darling child, but she warts people, I’m afraid. She’s very lonesome here.”

“She misses her mama.” Helen’s disgust was obvious. “Divorce. Her mother doesn’t want custody. She’s moved to Nashville to chase her dreams, or so she says.”

A vapor trail of feelings swept through me, sudden and powerful, overwhelming. I remembered waking up one morning to find my grandmother in my mother’s place.
Your mama run off and she ain’t gonna be back.
That was all I was ever told.

“You look a bit like Hannah’s mother.” Helen’s observation came unexpectedly. “That could be why she’s acting out so.”

I was temporarily mute. What was the right response for something like that?

Violet once again checked the clock. “I don’t know
where
Evan is.”

I slid to the front of my chair. “You know what, I don’t mind going to look at Hannah’s horse. I’d like to, actually, if it’s all right. I loved to ride when I was her age. We had mostly coon-hunting
mules, though. My family raised and sold them.” Coon dogs and mules were our family industry, if we had one.

“Oh, go ahead.” Violet shooshed me toward the door. “When Evan comes in, we’ll warm him up for you. Work on him a bit.”

I took advantage of the chance to excuse myself, then followed Hannah’s path through the glass doors, around the pool, and up the neatly manicured stone steps. Nearby, a water feature flowed down the slope, an occasional autumn leaf tumbling along the surface. The gardens on all sides were immaculately kept, the seasonal debris having been carefully cleared. Obviously this place had a groundskeeper along with a maid.

I was struck again by the fact that, for all appearances, this was a beautiful life. A perfect life. It’s so easy to make assumptions, passing by other people’s homes at a distance. To be so certain that the goings-on inside mirror the exteriors
 
—that glittering facades and squeaky-clean windows equate to perfect families, yet the reality is that containers often tell nothing of the contents.

Hardship finds its way into every life. It’s just much easier to see our own than other people’s.

Hannah had finished cinching her saddle and was preparing to mount when I stepped into the barn.

“Hey!” she said, unbuckling the halter and leading her gelding by the reins. “This is Blackberry. He was Uncle Evan’s horse, like, way back when. He knows tricks like take a bow and count with one foot and lay down. I can bring him outside and show you, if you want.”

Graying around the eyes and the muzzle, Blackberry had clearly seen a few turns around the pasture in his time. He made my acquaintance by nuzzling my shirt, then letting out a big
horse sigh, peppering me with snot. Just like the good old days. The mules were famous for that. “He looks a fine fellow.”

“You talk kinda funny. Like . . . you’re on TV or somethin’.”

“I live in New York City. Maybe that’s why it sounds different to you.”

“Yeah, I guess so. What’s it like there?”

I thought about that for a minute. For the first time in years, the city seemed a world away, like a place I’d seen in a movie but never really lived. “It’s nice. Exciting. There’s always something happening. I like it there.”

Hannah finger-combed a bit of Blackberry’s mane. “Do you like it
her
e
?”

“The mountains are beautiful too
 
—in a different way, though. I’ll bet you have a lot of fun, with the horses and the pool and everything.” The change in her expression told me immediately that I shouldn’t have brought it up. Hannah wasn’t happy to be here.

“It’s boring.”

“Well, Blackberry is probably glad you’re around. I’m sure he likes getting out and having some adventures again.” Blackberry rolled a look my way, as in,
Lady, are you nuts?

Hannah threw the reins over the horse’s neck. “He’s a pooh. He’d stand around and just get fatter and fatter if he could. He’s lucky I came to get him back in shape.” Reaching up and covering his ear, she added, “The gray horse is more fun. He’s faster. He’s got some long name, but I call him Silverbear.”

“Nice.” I chuckled.

A vehicle rumbled into the parking area outside, and Hannah stopped with her foot halfway to the stirrup. “That’s Uncle Evan, I bet. Hold Blackberry. I’ll go get him.” Before I could stop her, she’d tossed the reins at me and bolted for
the door. I caught the horse, then looped the reins through a tie ring, hoping to catch Evan in front and maybe walk back to the house together before my reasons for being here came up. A stable wasn’t the place to discuss business. This would undoubtedly go better with the help of Helen and Violet. I needed backup, and Blackberry probably wasn’t the right one for that.

When I exited the barn, Hannah was climbing the rails of an open-topped livestock trailer to peer inside. She waved me over excitedly. “Look! Uncle Evan’s got goats. Awwww . . . look at the baby one. It’s so cute!” In the trailer, a goat stuck its nose through the slats and belched out a long, loud complaint.

The truck doors opened. A stocky cowboy emerged from the driver’s side, and Evan Hall exited from the other. I recognized him immediately. He rounded the vehicle on long, agile strides that brought to mind the film scene on the deck of the Portuguese galleon. In reality, the tiny image on the Internet didn’t do him justice.

A breath stuttered in my chest, and a wave of intimidation hit. This was such a weird situation. I considered just pretending I hadn’t heard Hannah and catching the path back to the house, hoping he had failed to notice me there.

“Jennia Beth, come look!” Hannah blew my cover, and both Evan Hall and the other man looked my way.

I reluctantly emerged from the shadow of the stable, and the stocky cowboy and I crossed paths as he proceeded in. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat in passing.

At the trailer, Evan was explaining to Hannah that the goats weren’t staying. They’d wandered onto the place through one of the broken fences.

“Oh, but the baby one is so cute! Can we just keep
it
, Uncle
Ev?” Hannah hooked herself over the top rail and leaned far into the trailer to touch the nose of the curious baby.

“Don’t fall over,” her uncle teased. “They’re man-eaters.” He grabbed her dangling legs and pretended to upend her, raising a squeal.

He seemed like an okay kind of guy. He actually gave off an easygoing vibe. Not what I’d anticipated. Based on the interviews and press photos, I’d imagined him to be intense, contemplative, reserved.

“This is Jennia Beth.” Hannah delivered an upside-down introduction through the trailer slats. “She’s stayin’ in the lake cabin.”

Evan Hall turned to me and offered his hand. “Good to meet you, Jennia Beth.”

He smiled as I returned the greeting, and I had to admit, it was dazzling. Those loony women in the ice cream shop could have picked worse guys to hang their fantasies on.

“She came up here with Aunt Helen,” Hannah reported.

A dark eyebrow straightened in confusion. “Did Aunt Helen realize that Granny Vi has a doctor’s appointment today? We’re leaving here in a minute.” He caught my gaze for an instant, then added, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

The baby goat stood on its hind legs, stretching upward to nibble Hannah’s fingers. “Look! Look, Uncle Ev. He likes me
so
much. Look how cute he is, Jennia Beth.”

“We’re not keeping him, Hannah,” Evan reminded gently.

I peeked through the slats and slipped a hand in to stroke the baby’s soft, fuzzy ears. Velvet. Just like I remembered. There was nothing sweeter in the world than a baby goat’s ears. “He’s only a day or two old. He’s lucky something didn’t eat him before you
found him.” I peered across at the frightened nanny. “She’s probably a young mother. Doesn’t know any better than to wander off on her own.” At the farm, we’d always had an old donkey who lived with the goats to chase off predators. Donkeys were surprisingly adept at guard duty.

“See, he
needs
us, Uncle Ev.” Hannah twisted upright to continue the negotiations. The little goat bleated at her, and she leaned in again. “He’s just a
baby
baby.”

Evan caught her boot to prevent an accidental nosedive. A wry twist played on his lips as he turned my way. “Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry.” Then I was smiling at him, and he was smiling back. I wasn’t even sure how that happened, but I was momentarily caught up in it. Whether it was the man or the Time Shifters mystique or the sensitivity of the writing in
The Story Keeper
, I couldn’t say, but I was fascinated by him. So far, he wasn’t anything like I’d thought he would be.

“Awww . . . ,” Hannah whined softly. “The mama doesn’t even wanna take care of her. Poor baby.”

Evan’s smile fell, a veiled look crossing his face. He turned away, keeping the emotion to himself. “Come on down from there, Hannah, before you fall. Mike went inside to call around and see if he can figure out who the goats belong to.”

The little girl climbed off the trailer. “Maybe Mike won’t find anybody.” Her expression turned glum.

“They most likely belong to Mrs. Masterson.”

That caused Hannah’s long face to drop another notch. “Great. She’ll probably sue us again.”

“Hannah . . .” Evan’s reproachful look reminded me of his grandmother’s. “That’s enough of that.”

“Okay.” Apparently she didn’t disregard Uncle Evan the way she did Granny Vi.

“But we’ll make sure he doesn’t starve. We’ll milk the mama and figure out a bottle if we need to.” His cloudy expression had lifted when he turned back to me. “Any experience milking goats?”

“More than I’d care to admit.” Goat-milk soaps and creams were one of my grandmother’s swap meet industries. She used the herbs harvested from her secret gathering places to create medicinal mixtures for arthritis, chest colds, colic, fever, and other ailments. One of my regrets about the years after my mother left was that I’d spent so much time avoiding my grandmother, I hadn’t learned the old ways or how to gather and process the mountain plants.

“That may come in handy.” Evan winked, and a strange glitter sprinkled through me.

Hannah toyed with the goat’s soft nose through the slats. “Jennia Beth’s from New York City.”

A warning note sounded in my brain. Suddenly we were plowing a little too close to the corn. The last thing I needed was for Hannah to clue him in as to why I was here. Helen’s warning was still in the back of my mind.
My nephew can be a very stubborn man.

Evan gave me an interested look. Not suspicious or standoffish, but pleasantly interested. “So, a New York City girl who knows goats?” He slipped his hands into his jeans pockets, stood waiting to see what I would say.

“I grew up over by Towash. With goats. I’m just back for a few days.” I was probably flattering myself, but he seemed a little disappointed by the last part. I wondered how often visitors came to the compound
 
—how often he had anyone new to talk to.

“Oh . . . well, it’s a nice time of year to be on the lake.” He scanned me with more than idle curiosity. His mind was turning
it over now. The man was trying to figure me out, trying to add up the numbers. “Not so peaceful during Warrior Week, though.”

“Oh, she’s not here for Warrior Week.” Hannah turned her attention from the goat to us. “Jennia Beth’s here for
business
.”

A cold, hard fist slammed dead center in the pit of my stomach. Fortunately, Evan seemed preoccupied. The stocky cowboy, Mike, had just come out of the barn. “Why’s Blackberry wandering down the pasture with the saddle on and the bridle reins draggin’?” he called across the driveway.