Escape (33 page)

“Oh, Emmie”—tears began to fall—“you make it sound easy, but you don’t
know
the reality of having a child.”

“I will soon,” I blurted out. I probably should have waited, but she needed a distraction, and despite the business about this being James and my secret, I was
dying
to share the news.

Staring at me, she began to cry in earnest. “Are you telling me something?”

I nodded. “I’m like, two weeks, and I wouldn’t have said anything except—”

“It happened up here?” she asked, sniffling, but I could see she was pleased.

I nodded again.

She held out her arms and, hugging me, laughed through her tears. “That’s
the
best thing you could have told me.”

“No one else knows, just you and James.”

She drew back, eyes wide. “And he let you come here?”

“Not happily.”

“I’ll call him. I’ll tell him that I won’t let anything happen to you or your baby. You are
such
a good friend.”

“She is,” Jude said from the door. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there, but from the mischief in those gold eyes, feared it was longer than I wanted. Vicki looked irate, not a good thing.

“Rest,” I ordered, forcing her eyes back to mine. “Think about this baby. Think about Charlotte. Think about us.” It was as close as I could come, with Jude right there, to saying that our children would be close, the idea of which I loved. Without waiting for her to answer, I went out into the hall, facing Jude only after the door closed.

“You are a good friend, racing back here so soon,” he said. “A baby, huh?”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that. I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

“Why?”

In no mood to be witty, I said, “Because I’m asking you to.”

He snorted. “That’s a lousy answer. Did you tell it to Vicki just to make her feel better? Is it even true?”

I smiled sadly. “Only you would ask that.”

“Cynical me.”

“Why, Jude? You used to be upbeat. Why cynical now?”

He leaned against the wall and watched a nurse walk by. “Things haven’t gone my way.”

“Excuse me? You’ve had every advantage in the world!” I cried, because his self-pity was unacceptable when, all over this hospital, people were dealing with life and death. “Have you seen Noah yet?”

“From a distance. We haven’t met. I don’t see the point. Noah doesn’t need me. And I need action. I’m not good with this, Emily.
I’m hanging out at Lee’s, but if something doesn’t happen soon, I may die of boredom before the bad guy arrives. Do you honestly think someone would be dumb enough to try to hurt Lee now that she’s gone to court? Anything happens to her, and they’ll
know
who did it.”

“Not without evidence,” I argued. “She’s the plaintiff, Jude. If she’s gone, the case disappears. And yes, I think someone would be dumb enough, if whoever it is is greedy enough.”

I might have been more worried if the full narcotic of Bell Valley hadn’t kicked in as soon as I passed through the covered bridge and the town green appeared. The sprinkles I had encountered during the drive were now full-fledged rain. It was nearly ten, and given the day that it had been, I should have gone to bed.

Instead, though, I sat on the bench on the forest side of the gardener’s shed. The night was warm, the air positively saturated, drugging me more. Folding up my legs, I held the large umbrella that had been stored in the closet for guests. But the beat of rain on nylon was easily eclipsed by the more gentle, oddly resonant patter of rain in the woods.

And then, barely five minutes into it, came the coyote. One howl followed another, the second closer, the third closer still. I watched, listened, wondered how close they would come, but the wet forest floor muted the sound of movement, and visibility was nil. In the absence of stars and moon, the woods were opaque, with only a glitter coming now and then from the reflection off raindrops in the light on the shed.

Was I frightened? Absolutely not. James might have called this severe risk-taking, but I knew these coyotes. They wouldn’t attack. And I wanted to share my news.

So I thought the words—
pregnant
,
pregnant
,
pregnant
—over and over again. I smiled when the yips and barks came, and studied the darkness, but the coyotes didn’t move closer. They didn’t have to. We had a meeting of minds.

For the longest time, there was silence. I knew they were there, but they didn’t move. Though the rain went on, the air was warm, I was dry under my umbrella, and everything about the forest world soothed. In time, coyote voices rose again, melodious, if receding now. But I still felt a warmth inside at the thought that my baby had heard its first lullaby.

Communing with the coyotes was one of the things I wanted. There was another, but it wouldn’t happen until noon the next day, and in the meanwhile, I had a bed-and-breakfast to run.

Chapter 20
 

I was in the parlor setting up for breakfast when Lee arrived. She, too, was early.
Just covering for Vicki
, she explained, though from the way she kept glancing out the window when she thought I wasn’t looking, I suspected she felt safest here.

Between the two of us, we handled things surprisingly well, though it certainly helped that Tuesdays were always quiet. After brief instruction from Rob, I was able to process the checkouts, and when it came to housekeeping, the girl who normally helped Vicki brought a friend to work with her. All I had to do was tell them which guests were staying and which were leaving.

“You’re having fun,” Amelia said, observing me while Rob finished dressing Charlotte.

I was at the computer in the front hall, checking for guests who were due to arrive. The program was amazingly easy—and smart. Type in a name and you had a guest’s history at the Red Fox, including anything else Vicki or Rob had picked up in conversation. For instance, a woman arriving tomorrow had adopted two cats during her last visit; asking how the cats were doing would blow her away.

“And you’re good at this. I’m offering you a job.”

I laughed, then realized she was serious. “Omigosh no, Amelia. I’m just visiting. I can’t stay. Besides, Vicki’s going to be fine.”

“Is she? They’re sending her home today, but I just talked with the doctor. They don’t want her on her feet more than thirty minutes at a stretch. She’s going to need help.”

“Let Lee do more,” I suggested. “If she were busier, she wouldn’t worry so much.”

“I’m busier, and still I worry. Lee’s a sitting duck, what with her complaints public now, an arsonist at large, and two brothers and a team of lawyers out to get her.”

With a glance at the kitchen, I put a silencing finger to my mouth.

Amelia snorted. “I’m not saying anything she doesn’t already know.”

“But your saying it confirms it,” I whispered.

“And that right there is why the Red Fox needs you. Not only are you having fun working here, not only can you use a computer, but you are sensitive to people’s feelings.”

“Not selfish anymore?” I couldn’t resist.

She waved a hand. “Ach, I was upset when I said that. You brought back thoughts of Jude, who, by the way, is in Hanover again. Honestly, I don’t know what the appeal is there, because the idea that anyone at Dartmouth would be interested in my academically challenged son is laughable.”

“Sex appeal is universal.”

“No. He’s there because I want him here.
You
won’t let me down that way.”

The woman was nothing if not wily, but I wasn’t being sucked in. “I’ll stay for a day or two,” I offered, “but Vicki needs long-term help, and I can’t be an innkeeper. I’m a lawyer.”

“Who hasn’t worked in three weeks.”

“I’m a lawyer,” I insisted.

The conversation stayed with me, particularly my insistence that I was a lawyer. A knee-jerk reaction? Possibly. Being a lawyer had been my sole identity for the last ten years. It had taken precedence over being
a wife, a daughter, a friend. When you were trying to build a career in a highly competitive field, single-mindedness was a plus.

My needs had changed, though. On the ladder of important things in my life, being a lawyer had dropped several rungs. Personal matters were higher now, which was why, as soon as Vicki was settled back home, I left the Red Fox and drove to the Refuge.

Burials always took place on Tuesdays, typically at noon when the sun was highest and most hopeful. Last night’s rain had cleared, and though smoky clouds lingered around the highest of the mountains, the cemetery was bright. My kitten’s ashes weren’t the only ones being buried, but they were the ones that had drawn me here. Each little canister had a name. While the groundsman buried two others, I held the one that read
Precious
to my heart. When it was time, he let me place it in the ground myself.

This was therapeutic. There were no tears today, just a pervasive sense of peace.

I remained after the men left, sitting on the ground studying the freshly turned earth, and it struck me that every life needed a turning now and then. Part of it was burying the bad, like a cerebellum that was too small and an oppressive job. Part was bringing up the good, like a kitten’s spirit and my own need for life.

Sitting at my kitten’s grave, I forgave myself for the last ten years. Wrong turns? No. I had acted in good faith, doing what I thought was right. But what was right, now, was seeing that my needs had changed.

One of those new needs had just surfaced. I wanted a pet. I didn’t care what kind; James could choose. Or not. He would argue against it, but when I thought of my baby and the world I wanted it to have, this was a must. A home was different when it had a pet. It wasn’t as clean and tidy, and, like balsam at Christmas, the scent was distinct. I had known this growing up, but had lost the thought. Only now, sitting in the peace of the cemetery, did it come again. A pet was a living, breathing thing with very basic needs and an unlimited capacity to love.

As analogies went, turning the earth to bring up fresh soil was a
good one. Same with reordering the rungs on a ladder. A third came to me now, though. It was the idea of painting the canvas of a new life, one brush stroke at a time. Sitting here remembering a little kitten that had wobbled to me each time I’d come to visit, I added a furry stroke.

I didn’t tell James about it when he called that night. He’d had a bad day at work. This wasn’t the time to argue about a pet. And though his voice remained tired when he called Wednesday, he did have other news.

“We have a suspect.”

My eyes flew to Lee. We were all in the kitchen—Lee, Vicki, Amelia, and I, even Charlotte, who had refused to nap in her room, lest her mother disappear again, and had fallen asleep on Amelia’s lap. It was nearly as improbable a sight as Vicki with her feet up, but, stubborn as her daughter, she too refused to be in her room. Rather, she had been instructing me on the proper way to cut fresh roses—diagonally, under lukewarm water—when my cell rang.

We have a suspect
. We. Manchester-by-the-Sea. Arson.

Excited, I repeated the news aloud as I dried my hands. Grasping the phone more firmly, I asked, “In custody?”

“Yeah.” I was nodding to the others as he went on. “One good thing about a small town—people notice who comes and goes. Add buzz about arson, and they start calling the police. They were all mentioning seeing a white van on the day of the fire. No one had ever seen it before. The driver actually sat in the coffee shop for a while, either really hungry or just trying to look nonchalant, like he was on a local job and—and taking a break.”

“Letting people get a fix on his
face
?” I asked in amazement.

“Oh yeah. Talking with the server, buying cigarettes at the drugstore. It’s a new approach.”

Giving a thumbs-up to the others, I asked James, “Can anyone place him on Lee’s street?”

“A neighbor can. He was coming back from dinner Thursday
night and saw the van in her driveway. He didn’t think anything of it at first. A house like that needs maintenance, so he sees trucks there all the time. He took a second look, though, because the van was from a window company, and he needs window work done himself. He wrote down the information.”

“Don’t tell me,” I said. I was beginning to enjoy myself. “The neighbor tried to call, and it was a bogus company.”

“Oh, the company was real. But the van was stolen from the factory, which is in …” He paused for a silent drum roll.

“Connecticut,” I put in, smiling.

“Yup. Home of Lee’s brothers-in-law. It was the Connecticut tags on the van that raised red flags.”

“One of the brothers hired him, then?”

“That’s to be determined. Turns out, the window company knew who’d stolen the van. His name is Rocco Fleming, and he’s done it before, but the owners never had the heart to go to the police. Fleming used to work for them. His uncle still does. Besides, he always returns the van. This time it had an empty tank and enough extra mileage on it to account for a trip to Manchester and back. They’re holding him in Hartford.”

I repeated that for the others. Lee was pressing her chest, looking like she was afraid to believe.