The Story Keeper (22 page)

It was hard to believe that only a couple weeks ago, I’d been on top of the world, at the height of my career, walking the peaceful morning streets of New York City, on my way to the first pub board meeting at my dream job. Everything was almost perfect . . . until
The Story Keeper
showed up on my desk. Until I opened it and discovered that sixteen-year-old girl hiding under the cabin.

Friday looked up to see if I had any new ideas. He was already starting to shiver, not being a cold-weather dog. In fall and winter, he required a sweater even for short trips to the dog park.

“Come on, come on. Think.”
Think, think, think.
But a lump was forming in my throat. What I really wanted to do was cry.
Cry, cry, cry.

Instead I surveyed the fence, trying to decide whether I could climb over the top. I was in pretty decent shape. I could probably make it, but what about Friday? There was only an inch or two between the bottom of the gate and the driveway. Not nearly enough space to stuff him through. And if I did go over, it had to be several miles to Evan Hall’s house from here. Straight up the mountain. Of course someone might . . .

The rumble of an ATV came like a whisper from heaven. Salvation, of a sort. Relief melted through me, warming the chill. The noise was headed this way. Growing louder.

I’d been discovered.

Minutes later, a camouflage four-wheeler raced from the draw and careened across the pasture, going airborne over small bumps.

I recognized Jake Hall even before he skidded a 180 in the driveway and came to a dramatic stop on the other side of the gate. “They told me someone was stuck down here,” he offered, kicking one leg over the four-wheeler and sitting sidesaddle like he hadn’t quite decided what to do with me yet. “Didn’t know it was you.”

“Would you have come if you did?”

An easy smile parted his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. He and Evan had the same smile. The charming kind. “I’m not like my brother.” He said it with some relish, and whatever the meaning behind that was, I found it comforting.
Not like my brother
sounded good right now.

I thumbed over my shoulder toward the car. “I’m stuck. I had no idea Honey Creek Road had been blocked off.” The bitterness surfaced. I couldn’t help it.

“Well, let’s see what we can do.” He slid from the four-wheeler, entered a code on the keypad, and the gate magically opened. “We’ll figure it out.”

I was shocked for a moment. Was this the brother I’d formed a somewhat-negative opinion of yesterday? He actually seemed . . . nice. Really nice. A willing rescuer of chicks and Chihuahuas hopelessly stuck in the mud.

Unfortunately, after looking at the car, he quickly determined that we wouldn’t be extricating it without equipment. “I’ll take you on up to the house, then Mike and I’ll bring one of the tractors down. Too cold to be standin’ out here, and you’re not dressed for it.” A flirty look came my way as we walked to the four-wheeler. I couldn’t help myself
 
—I smiled back. Right now I felt pretty kindly toward Mr. Jake Hall. Maybe I’d just caught him in a bad moment yesterday and jumped to too many conclusions.

“Hop on,” he said, letting me straddle the seat before he kicked a leg over, then scooped up Friday’s shivering body with one hand. “Hold tight. I don’t wanna lose ya.”

I couldn’t help flashing back to the way the four-wheeler had barreled across the pasture a few minutes ago. “Just hang on to Friday, okay?”

“Darlin’, I
live
for Friday.” It was a pretty lame line, but it made me laugh as we started up the driveway at a much-calmer pace than the one that had brought him to my rescue.

I was right about how far we were from Evan Hall’s compound. By the time we made it to the top of the mountain, a chilly drizzle was falling, and Friday and I had achieved Popsicle status. My teeth chattered and Friday trembled like a leaf in a gale as we pulled under the portico in front of the stable.

“You two go on inside.” Jake handed Friday to me. “I’ll find Mike and we’ll get the car taken care of. Just use the back door by the pool. Shorter that way.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Evan’s not here, if that’s what you mean. Heard he was a jerk yesterday. Not surprised. It’s his world. We’re all just livin’ in it.”

“I can go back with you, and as soon as the car’s out of the ditch, I’ll drive home the way I came.” If I could get out of here without Evan Hall knowing I’d breached his compound again, it would be so much better.

Friday shuddered and gave me a pleading look, as in,
Hello, Chihuahua in grave danger of frostbite here.

Jake eyeballed the sky. “Nah, look, that rain’s gonna hit anytime. You don’t wanna be out in it. Head on in and talk to Granny Vi. Hannah’ll be happy you’re here. She likes you. You shouldn’t drive back out Honey Creek Road anyhow, trust me. Turns to a mudhole when it’s wet. We’ll be doing good to get your car out before the rain slams us.”

“I’m so sorry for the trouble.” I felt like such an idiot.

He winked and cast a slow, easy smile, leaning my way as if he were sharing a secret. “I don’t mind it. I’d be doin’ something anyway. Might as well be this.” The cell phone on his belt rang, and he ignored it. “The boss man don’t tolerate no slackers.”

That backed me up a little. Whatever the issues were here, I wanted no part of them. I had my own warped family dynamics to worry about.

But somehow, I did wonder . . . what was the history? Whose fault was it? Was this just leftover sibling rivalry, or did it run deeper?

“Okay, well, if there’s anything I can do to help . . .”

“There’s not. Go on in and warm up.”

He strode off toward the little room I’d seen the cowboy disappear into the other day, and I carried Friday to the house. It felt strange, letting myself through the door. A chime announced my entrance.

“Hannah?” Violet’s voice came from somewhere beyond the cavernous living room where we’d chatted on my last visit.

“No, ma’am, it’s Jen Gibbs. I came by yesterday with Helen?” I wiped my feet on the rug, then dusted Friday’s paws back and forth to clean them. Better if he didn’t leave tracks behind. Evidence.

With any luck Evan Hall would never know we’d set foot in his house again.

I found Violet in a small parlor just past the office. She was sitting by a fireplace, her hands clasped around a cup of hot tea. She sighed when she saw me. “I was hoping you were Hannah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She’s been out on that horse for hours again, and now it’s cold and the rain’s coming.” Her lips trembled, and it was clear enough from looking at her that she’d been sitting there worrying awhile. “I’ve been calling Jake for an hour. He hasn’t picked up.”

“I’m sure Hannah’s fine.” Clearly Hannah’s father had no clue where she was. That seemed wrong, considering that Violet was agonizing over it. “I could go look . . . or see if I can catch Jake . . . or anyone. My car’s stuck in the mud on Honey Creek Road. Jake was heading down there to pull it out.” Outside, the tractor rumbled past in high gear.

Violet shook her head and tucked a lap quilt closer despite the fact that a fire crackled in the massive marble hearth and the room was warm. “I called down to the barn a bit ago and the boy there hadn’t seen her. I can’t even think of his name just now. Isn’t that terrible? I’ve gotten myself in a dither. The boy said he’d go and look for her.”

“Oh . . . okay. Well, is there anything I can do? Can I get anything for you?”

“Add a log to the fire. It’s cold in here. These nor’easters.
I hate these nor’easters. I think I’ll move to Florida with all the other retirees.” She attempted a laugh
 
—for my benefit, I thought
 
—as I stoked the fire with one hand while clutching Friday with the other.

“And don’t tell Evan about Hannah,” Violet added. “Land’s sake, don’t tell Evan. There’s enough trouble between the two boys already. Brothers oughtn’t fight.” She stared absently into the flames, and I sat down in the chair across from her, Friday in my lap, even though he wanted to get down. He’d had at least a year’s worth of physical contact in less than eight hours.

Violet sighed. “I’m sorry you caught them both in a mood yesterday. Did you discuss the manuscript with Evan? Did he know anything about it?”

“We didn’t really get very far. I don’t think it was the best timing,” I said vaguely, gathering that she had no idea he’d chased me off or that he’d paid me a visit this morning.

“He was concerned over my appointment, I think,” Violet offered, and I instantly felt like an ogre. Evan Hall did have plenty to worry about, other than books. “And then our news wasn’t so good.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I wish all of them wouldn’t fuss over me so.”

“When you love someone, you can’t help it.” My voice caught.

“Did you come back to talk with Evan again today? He isn’t here just now.”

“No. My car is stuck in the mud on Honey Creek Road. Jake was kind enough to rescue me and go back to pull the car out.”

Her face brightened as if this were new information. “He’ll surely manage it, don’t you worry. Jake has always been so handy with tools and tractors and such. As a boy, he was always taking things apart. We gave him his grandfather’s train set once, and he
had it in pieces, next we knew.” Her hands fluttered, indicating the mess. “Evan had such a fit at him for dismantling it. He never liked things out of order. But Jake put it all back together again. That child could fix anything if he wanted to.”

The picture slowly began painting itself in my mind. Evan, the artistic, studious type. Jake, the hands-on type. Brothers, yet completely different. “It’s funny how we each get our own set of skills. My sisters and I are as opposite as night and day.”

Violet’s hands lowered slowly to the chair, pulled the quilt higher again. “It’s been hard for Jake, falling in Evan’s shadow. Evan was always the older one, the bigger one, the faster one, the better student. The one who did everything right.” Her fingers worried a seam in the quilt, absently twisting a loose thread. “He’s a tough act to follow.”

“I guess he would be.” The words tasted sour, coming out.

Her gaze returned to the fire. “It isn’t Evan’s fault that Hannah’s mother left and Jake ended up in such a spot, though Jake seems to blame him for it. It’s just a bad situation. Sometimes a woman isn’t fit for mothering. She doesn’t take to it. The boys had such a good mother. Sophie loved them so. I never thought they’d choose women who weren’t like their mama. Sophie was so beautiful and talented, but kind, too. I remember the first time Robby brought her home from university for a visit. I loved her right off, and I could see that he did too. Robby would’ve gone to the ends of the earth for Sophie. When you love someone, you find a way. I suppose Jake thought he was getting something like Sophie when he married Hannah’s mother, but . . .” She stopped midsentence, stretched toward the door. “Was that the chime?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Her body folded in on itself again. “Where
is
that girl?”
Outside the window, the drizzle had turned to a scattering of droplets.

“Let me go out to the barn and look for her.” If Hannah was outside, there was no sense in Violet worrying while we sat here rehashing the past.

“I’d like it if you would. She shouldn’t be wandering in this weather. There are umbrellas in the hall tree by the door. You can leave your little dog here. He looks to be enjoying the fire.” She motioned to a rug by the hearth.

Friday was more than happy to remain behind while I located an umbrella and walked outside, the damp wind pressing through my jacket and jeans.

I found Hannah in the barn, squeezing the water off Blackberry’s coat with a metal sweat scraper.

“Hey!” she said and trotted down the aisle to give me an exuberant hug laced with the familiar smells of rain, saddle leather, hay, and horse hair. She looked as happy as a lark. Apparently she had no inkling that she might be in trouble. I hated to be the purveyor of bad news, but poor Violet had been worrying herself silly.

“You’d better go check in at the house. They’ve been concerned about you.”
They
seemed a kinder way to say it, rather than indicating only her great-grandmother realized she was gone.

But Hannah knew. “Granny Vi?”

“Yes.”

“She was sleepin’ when I left. I put a note for her.” She seemed completely comfortable with that, as if she in no way found it odd for an eleven-year-old to be out rambling for hours in a gathering storm.

“The weather made her nervous, I think.”

“Granny Vi worries a lot. I know what I’m doin’. I been goin’ in the woods since I was little. Back at our old place, it was right up against the parkland, and I could cross over the fence and go everywhere. My mama never cared, long’s I put the horse up when I got back. My mama rodeos and she sings. She’s good at it. She’s gonna be a big star. I miss my old horse. He’s more fun than Blackberry. They sold him in the divorce.”

My mama never cared.
That spoke volumes. “Well, Blackberry here looks like a keeper to me, but it’s not very nice to scare your granny Vi. If you
know
she’s worried, maybe you should check in more often.”

“Then I couldn’t go as far.” She cocked her head as if I were communicating in Martian. Had this kid never been forced to answer to anybody? “I’m okay. Anyway, I wasn’t far off. I was down in my special place and I didn’t hear the rain start, that’s all. We got a little wet on the way back. I didn’t want Blackberry to catch a cold. My mama’d skin me alive for puttin’ the horses away wet.”

I held out my hand for the sweat scraper. “Tell you what, I’ll take care of Blackberry and you go on and let your granny Vi know that you’re back and you’re okay.”

“You could tell her.” Dark brows rose into hopeful arches.

“No, I think you’d better.”

“Okay.” With a dramatic sigh, she handed over the grooming tool, and then she was gone.

I took my time with Blackberry, hoping to hear the tractor return with my car. It felt good to be in a barn again, hearing the rustling of animals and hay, the fluttering of birds in the rafters, the soft drumming of rain on the tin roof. Blackberry’s bushy hide slid wet and slick beneath my fingers as I worked, and I let myself sink into the feel of it, relaxing as the horse’s muscles
softened. Back home, my favorite hours of the day had been the ones when I was up early, out in the barn with time to slip a bridle on one of the mules. I’d ride bareback through the woods as the rocks and the trees awoke, the forest floor coming to life with flowers opening and tiny creatures stirring.