Memory Tree (6 page)

Cynthia Knight wouldn't be around every day like she had been.

Even without this supposed move, little Jake would grow up to be big Jake and he'd need Cynthia's attention, and that was if they didn't add to their family with another child. Perhaps it was a good thing his parents were coming to visit; perhaps Janey and his mother could establish a bond both could benefit from. Janey had a way of warming even the iciest of personalities, the thought leaving Brian with an image of Didi Duncan on one of the cruises she enjoyed. Iceberg, meet ocean liner. He laughed it off, knowing he was being too harsh.

After dropping Janey off at Cynthia's, he'd driven to downtown Linden Corners, done some needed shopping at Ackroyd's Hardware Emporium, and then stopped at the Five-O for a tuna fish sandwich, wishing it was a BLT; he'd already had some bacon today, burned as it was. He forewent eating at the counter, not really in the mood for Martha's twisted humor, and took his food to go, crossing the street and unlocking the front door to George's Tavern, where, between bites, he screwed in the fresh lightbulbs he'd just bought. It was still an hour before the bar was set to open for the night, and even so, it was Mark's shift at the bar, as Brian always spent Sunday with Janey. Except today, and so to fill the empty time he wiped down the bar and mopped the floor and got the beer taps gleaming underneath the new bulbs, deciding the wood floor required a major investment. A soft glow caught his eye and he suddenly found himself thinking about Christmas lights. He usually waited until the first of December—now just days away—to put up the holiday lights around the perimeter of the building. He had them in the back of the truck, along with the staple gun, leaving him to realize he could get started now.

But he wasn't feeling very full of holiday cheer, and besides, the afternoon had started to grow darker with each passing minute. By the time he got the ladder up and began the work, the sky would have embraced night. Last thing he needed was to fall off the ladder and end up like poor Richie Ravens down at the Solemn Nights. So instead, Brian did an unusual thing. He opened early by turning on the outside lights and flipping the CLOSED sign to OPEN. He grabbed one of his freshly laundered aprons and tied it around his waist. Might as well make some money; nothing else to do. Maybe he'd call Cynthia and see about having Janey stay for dinner after all. He could call Mark too, and tell him not to rush back from his waiter job down at the resort in Hudson.

He was about to place both calls when the front door opened and in stepped an unlikely but welcome patron.

“Nora, what are you doing here?”

“I think I could ask the same of you. It's Sunday, right?”

“Yes. Which means I'm not supposed to be here. Let me guess—you come in when I'm off to drool over Mark like all the other girls in town.

“Hardly. Things were super quiet at the store,” she said, “and I saw the light go on and thought a glass of red wine might be nice. Even the red wine you serve here.”

“Always nice to be appreciated,” he said.

He went around the bar, poured her a glass of merlot, set it before her while she sat on one of the round stools. She swiveled around on it, checking out the otherwise empty, silent bar. He'd forgotten to plug the jukebox in, and it stood quiet in the corner, ignored. He noticed her look back at him, her expression filled with judgment.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she offered.

“With tips like that, I think I need a new profession.”

“You do anyway, Brian,” Nora said. “You need a whole new life, in fact.”

Okay, that cut deep,
he thought. “So glad you came by.”

“Sorry. It's just . . . well, Janey had other things to do today. But not you. You're in a rut.”

“You want to explain that one?”

“Do I really need to?” she asked, her green eyes wide open.

“I could say the same for you.”

“Uh-uh, my issues are so last year. Travis and I came home to Linden Corners, even if it was the last place I wanted us to come to. But the transition has gone well enough—the business is fine, and Travis has adapted nicely to his new school. We've even managed to not put on any extra weight despite living with my mother.”

“And you have a new relationship to boot,” Brian said.

She drank deeper from her glass, the usual firewater he served in place of decent wine suddenly like top-shelf champagne. “I thought we were talking about your life, or lack thereof. Where's Janey today anyway? Don't you two usually spend the whole day together? I bet that big field of yours is littered with leaves.”

“The raking can wait,” he said, “since there's no snow in the forecast again. Tomorrow's supposed to be a high of fifty.”

“Happy holidays,” Nora said with a raise of her glass.

“Anyway, Janey is with Cynthia.”

“Not surprising, considering all that's going on with the Knights,” she said. “You know, I spoke with Cynthia yesterday; we met for coffee across the street at Martha's. And we were introduced to the most charming young woman, actually. You'd like her.”

Brian was half listening while he poured a bucket of ice into the large sink before him, readying it for the case of warm beer at his feet. He stopped, bucket in midpour and some cubes missing their target, and looked up at his friend. “I'm sorry, what did you say? Wait a minute—is that what you meant by a new life? Nora, please tell me you didn't . . . uh, initiate anything.”

“Of course I didn't,” she said.

“Good. That's the last thing I need . . .”

“Cynthia did,” she said, an amused look crossing her face.

He set the bucket down, leaned over the bar. His fingers toyed with the stem of her glass, the thought of polishing it off within easy reach. Yet, aside from one beer he'd had two summers ago, Brian Duncan hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since before his bout with hepatitis a few years back. It was an illness that had started him off on this journey, and while he was physically fine, its yellowing effects lingered long in the mind. He'd moved on from that life in New York, from Maddie Chasen, whom he'd once loved until her betrayal, and found a new life in Linden Corners. And now that carefully constructed foundation of his was seeing its first crack.

“Cynthia did. How interesting,” he remarked. “Is that what the two of you do when you get together? Talk about my love life?”

“It would be a quick conversation if we did,” she said with an easy laugh. “And, no, Brian, what happened all came about innocently enough. We were simply talking about her and Bradley's big announcement. I mean, this is a whopper, a whole new life change for them.”

“One Cynthia really didn't want to get into much after Bradley told us all.”

“Maybe it hasn't sunk in with her yet,” she said, “though we're going to have to face facts, Brian. They are leaving, first of the year. Cynthia's been a rock for Janey and someone's going to have to pick up the slack. And you know that I'll do what I can, and so will my mother, but Cynthia's different; she knows her so well, and she also knew . . .”

“Annie,” Brian said. “I know, Cynthia was Annie's best friend, Janey's last link to her past.”

Nora emptied her glass, pushed it forward for a refill. Brian took care of her, then poured himself a glass of seltzer and splurged by dropping a slice of lime into the bubbles. “So you think the solution to this dilemma is to find me a new mother for Janey, and this supposedly charming young woman you met at the Five-O is the answer to my prayers?”

“We're certainly not planning a Christmas wedding—we did that last year,” she said. “Nor are we looking to replace Annie in Janey's heart. But, Brian, when's the last time you went on a date?”

“When was the Truman administration?”

“You're hardly that old,” she remarked.

“I know, that's why I asked you.”

“Ouch. Brian Duncan takes off the gloves,” she said, amusement in her voice.

“Look, Nora, I appreciate you two looking out for me, but conspiring to set me up just isn't what I need right now—and it's not something Janey needs either,” he said. “Why is it that people in relationships always think everyone else should be in one? Look at you and Nicholas.”

She drank her wine again. Brian knew this was her way of avoiding not just his question but also providing an answer. He'd sensed something was not totally right between them on Thanksgiving, and he had to wonder if it was Nick or Nora. Knowing his friend, it was probably her, as Nicholas was as open and friendly and unassuming as anyone. Nora Connors, formerly Rainer until her divorce had come through last spring, held things tight, though, her thoughts, her emotions. The last thing she'd been looking for was a new man, but Nicholas Casey, whom she had met during a holiday mystery last year, had proved too good to be true, a Renaissance man who appreciated the arts as much as he did a football game.

“Sorry, sore spot?”

Nora was saved having to answer as the front door swung open and Mark Ravens, the relief bartender, who worked three nights a week, entered, out of breath. “Oh man, Brian, what are you doing here? Hey, Nora, sorry, didn't mean to burst in like this, but I mean, it's just four o'clock now, time to open, I would have been here sooner, but . . .”

“Relax, Mark. Why not go upstairs and freshen up? I meant to call you, but someone”—he paused, eyes darting Nora's way—“distracted me.”

“I could take my business elsewhere . . .”

Mark nodded and said thanks, running up the stairs to the apartment he'd been renting out for the last two years with more energy than Brian could recall ever having himself. Guess when you were working two jobs and expecting your first child, you ran on adrenaline more than artificial fuel. As he waited for Mark to return, he saw Nora wander over to the jukebox, plugging it into the wall socket. She pulled out a dollar and slid it into the machine. The dulcet tones of Sinatra filled the room: “Luck Be a Lady.”

“Funny,” Brian remarked.

“Come on, Brian, you're a good guy. What's the harm?”

Just then Mark bounded down the stairs. “What's going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Brian said emphatically.

“Oh, there's this cute new woman in town. Cynthia and I told her about Brian.”

“Hey, that's cool, Brian on a date. Though I still bet on it snowing first.”

Nora laughed. “We'd all take that bet.”

“Ugh,” Brian groaned. “See what I mean about people stuck in relationships? . . . And he's worse; he's married. Forget it, both of you. I'm not going on a blind date.”

“Brian Duncan, I don't believe that for a second,” Nora said. “You have to go.”

“I agree,” Mark said, easing around the bar. “So who is she?”

Nora smiled at both men and then said to Mark, “Your cousin, Trina.”

A wide smile stretched out his scruffy cheeks. “Hey, that's a great idea . . .”

Brian looked up sharply. “Wait a minute, did you say Trina? I've already met her.”

“That's perfect, then; it won't be blind after all.”

Brian had a feeling even if he continued to say no he'd get nowhere with either of these two. All he could hope for was the date getting snowed out, but this season, it didn't seem likely at all, and for a moment Brian thought rather than Christmas looming in the air, Saint Valentine had blown in for an unexpected visit.

C
HAPTER
5

C
YNTHIA

 

 

 

F
rom the moment Janey arrived for her afternoon visit, Cynthia Knight had been walking on the proverbial eggshells, and now, hours later, the elephant in the room still went undiscussed. And while she knew she was mixing her metaphors, that was the least of her concerns. Janey's well-being was paramount to anything else today, and so she'd tried several times to broach the topic, each time Janey expertly changing the topic, or just plain walking away, claiming she was going upstairs to play with Jake. Cynthia let it go for now, but avoiding the issue wouldn't change the fact.

Why had she let Bradley make the announcement like he had?

Didn't Brian and Janey deserve more consideration, or advance warning?

For the past month or so, she'd known the move was possible. But she'd said nothing, keeping it to herself, even at night while Bradley slept peacefully and she was left staring at the ceiling, considering the fact it would be a different ceiling that would hold her attention soon enough.

Subtlety wasn't her husband's style. He couldn't help it—he was a corporate lawyer, and a frustrated one at that these days, hence the pursuit of something new. He'd been relegated to boring tax law while all along he'd desired courtroom action. That's where the drama happened, he always said, and it hadn't helped having Nora Connors in town, a former defense attorney who had awakened Bradley's ambition. So whenever he got the chance to address a crowd and make a pronouncement, he grabbed it. And that had been the case at Thanksgiving; while everyone else had given thanks for all they had, he'd chosen that precise moment to tell them what the Knights would have after they moved far from Linden Corners. Family, a future. Far indeed, all the way to Texas, where a great new job awaited him, and where they'd be closer to his side of the family. Jake would get to see his grandparents regularly, as well as his cousins. Cynthia, like Annie, had been an only child; it was one of the things they had bonded over. Bradley, though, was one of four children—two boys, two girls—and his siblings were all married, all had a couple of children, and all lived within a few miles of their parents. And now so would they. She knew she should be happy for their entire family because this was a chance to reconnect and give Jake a strong foundation, a connection to his bloodline.

But at what cost to others?

Indeed, the downside was leaving her de facto Linden Corners family. Foremost among those she would miss was Janey Sullivan, the little girl whom she'd met on the day of her birth, whom she had held when she thought she couldn't have her own child, and whom she'd helped care for after the passing of first her father, Dan, then her mother, Annie. Something no child should have to endure. To not be around her and watch this special girl grow up—it had left Cynthia with many sleepless nights since she and Bradley had made the final decision.

Now, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee long gone cold, she felt a mix of sadness and frustration overwhelm her. With Bradley out running errands and Janey upstairs hovering over Jake like always—though perhaps this time with a bit more cuddliness, as though she were trying to bank a lifetime of hugs—Cynthia wondered if this was how she would feel in her new home. Out of sorts, feeling alone, her heart as empty as Texas was big. But no, she had a feeling her in-laws wouldn't allow that, nor would her sisters-in-law, who had already expressed interest in helping her get settled.

The ringing of the phone stirred her from her musings.

“Hi, Brian,” she said, the caller ID giving him away.

“How's Janey?”

“Quiet. Playing with Jake.”

“So she's not talking?”

“Not about anything, you know, important.”

“Janey's like the wind, fickle, choosing its own moment to rear up, changing speed and direction on a whim,” he said.

“Well said,” Cynthia said. “And appropriate.”

“Maybe with the night approaching, you can convince her to go out for a walk,” he said. “She tends to open up more when the sun has gone down. Like darkness is better to reveal her private thoughts.”

“Got it. You on your way?”

“I'm at the tavern, got a good crowd, so I'm helping Mark. I'll see you after dinner?”

“Janey will eat with us and then I'll bring her back home. See you then.”

Cynthia put down the phone and got up, made her way up the staircase to the bedrooms, where she found Jake asleep and Janey staring at the purple frog she'd brought with her. Cynthia had noted its presence earlier, thought it strange but ultimately let it go. Janey might be ten and growing fast, but that didn't mean an insecure little girl couldn't still be hiding inside her.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just hanging out, watching Jake sleep. He's so peaceful.”

“He's been cooped up inside all day. I think he might be bored. Come on, let's go for a walk.”

“A walk, now? It's getting dark out.”

“Then we better hurry before it swallows us up,” she said. “What do you say, let's take Jake down to the windmill; we'll see how things are turning.”

The mention of the windmill always did the trick, Janey bounding off the bed and racing downstairs, her shoes on before Cynthia even had a chance to wrap Jake inside a warm blanket. Soon the three of them were ready for their adventure, the stroller leading the way as they left the confines of the Knights' farmhouse, an old structure not unlike Brian and Janey's and one that might be difficult to sell, given the amount of work—fresh coat of paint outside, maybe a new roof—it needed. Cynthia started to lead them down the driveway intentionally, even though it was in the opposite direction of the windmill.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Oh, I want to check the mail.”

“It's Sunday.”

“And yesterday Bradley and I were so busy, we forgot.”

She hoped she sounded believable. Regardless, she continued to trek down the blacktop, her reason for the change in course creeping up in the dying light of the day. With Janey's hand in hers, she noticed that a bit of wind had started up across the open field, and she stole a look down at a content Jake, who stared back with eyes wide.

“He's awake,” Janey remarked.

“You know he loves his walks. Seeing the big, bright world.”

“It's not very bright now. The moon is going to rise soon.”

“So we'll walk by moonlight. That's just perfect on a walk like this; it will guide us.”

They came to the edge of the driveway and Cynthia made an effort to check the roadside mailbox, even though she knew Bradley had retrieved the mail yesterday. She snapped down the door and dug her hand inside, feeling nothing but air. A second later she pulled out an empty hand.

“Know what that means? No bills.”

But Janey was no longer paying attention, her eyes having focused on the metal sign that was staked to the front lawn, just a few feet from the mailbox. It was bending in the wind, like it wanted to be swept away to somewhere beyond reality. F
OR
S
ALE,
it read, and below named a Realtor in nearby Hillsdale, two phone numbers included. Cynthia knew that coming here had been manipulative, but she wanted to get Janey talking and this was all she could come up with. Janey turned her face back to Cynthia, her nose scrunched up.

“Come on, you said the windmill,” she stated, pointing her finger west. “It's that way.”

So much for outsmarting a ten-year-old. Cynthia resigned herself to another tactic, perhaps another day, and let Janey lead the way, even allowing her to take command of the stroller as its wheels traveled over the low field of grass. She noticed too that Janey had slipped her free hand back into hers, leaving her heart swelling and a tear leaking from her eye.

“That wasn't very subtle of me, was it?” she asked.

“Not very. I mean, I saw the sign when Brian dropped me off.”

Of course she had.

“If it's any consolation, I'm still not used to the idea.”

“Why? Don't you want to move?”

Wow, this kid didn't pull any punches: she went right to the core issue. “Sweetie, it's complicated, and of course a big decision—one of the biggest I've ever made. But, yes, as much as I don't like the idea of leaving, I know it's something that will mean good things for our family. Jake will meet his cousins and Bradley will see more of his parents, who are getting on in years, and I'll get to bond with his siblings and their families.”

“Then that's what you have to do,” Janey said matter-of-factly. “Ooh, the hill is steep; maybe you should take the stroller back. Jake needs you now.”

Janey handed over the reins, breaking her connection with Cynthia. Which told her a big shift had occurred, Janey's seeming acceptance of the situation burrowing deep underground. So she knew she would have to force the issue even more. She steeled herself for when Janey's tightly controlled emotions erupted. The three of them circled around the edge of the Knights' property, beyond the old silo, which was no longer in operation, and toward a copse of trees that acted as the border between their land and that of the Sullivan farmhouse. A gurgling stream cut through the land, water bubbling over rocks; sometimes it flooded out over the land when the snow melted, but that was hardly a problem today with the ground so hard. A stone-cobbled bridge that curved upward allowed them to cross the stream, and they did so, and at last they reached the top of the hill. Coming into view was the windmill, its sails turning more fiercely than usual in the growing wind. It was like a new storm was making its way toward Linden Corners, but with the warmth blowing past them it could only mean rain. Still no snow.

“Cynthia, can I ask you a question?”

“You know you can ask me anything.”

Janey stopped, looked up at her with serious eyes. “How come I don't have any family?”

Cynthia's grip on the stroller grew stronger, the question so filled with emotion. “Family comes in many forms, Janey. You have Brian, and you have me . . .”

“I know all that, and I'm lucky to have all of you,” she said. “But what you said about all those people in Bradley's family . . . I mean, wow, siblings and cousins, nephews and nieces . . . Hey, that makes the two of you aunts and uncles. Sounds like Christmas could be lots of fun, but also a very full house.”

“Well, that's not something we have to worry about this year,” she said.

“It's not?”

“Janey, we'll be here for Christmas.”

“Oh, okay. I like that.”

“But that hardly answers your question,” she said.

They had begun the downward journey toward the windmill, the dark night enveloping them deeper. In the distance she could see a dim light emanating from the kitchen of Janey's house, but she knew it was just a safety light, not an indication that Brian had returned. This discussion and its result were all on Cynthia. They continued walking and talking, the windmill's power drawing them ever closer.

“I don't have any aunts and uncles, do I?” Janey asked.

“Why are you asking me?”

“You knew my mom the best; you were her best friend.”

“That's true, Janey. Which makes you and me best friends once removed.”

She scrunched her nose over that one. “Mama never had any brothers and sisters. I guess neither did my dad, not that I've ever heard. Don't you think that's kind of weird? I mean, you'd think one of them would have, right?”

“Actually, Janey, it's what they bonded over. The fact that both were only children.”

Janey grew quiet, as though considering such an idea. “I guess I never thought about that or anything like . . . a bond.”

“Well, they loved each other.”

“Like you love Bradley?”

“Yes.”

“And you made a baby, like my parents made me.”

Cynthia had to wonder where this was going. “Well, that's how it works, Janey.”

“I wonder if I might have had a sibling, you know, if my father . . .”

“I know this for a fact, Janey Sullivan. Yes, they wanted more. They didn't want you to have the same experience growing up as they did.”

“But that's what happened.”

“That's the thing about life, Janey. You can't predict anything,” she said. “You just have to live with your heart.”

“I think I would have liked having a brother or sister.”

“Well, the way you are with Jake, you would have made an excellent older sister.”

“Do you think I still can be? You know, if Brian gets married and they have a child?”

“Oh, Janey, I think that's a long way off.” Cynthia, though, found herself laughing aloud despite the seriousness of the conversation. She knew Brian had dated and even been engaged a couple of times in his life, but since he'd assumed guardianship of Janey he'd practically been a monk. Not that she wasn't trying to change that, and for a moment she wondered if trying to set him up on a date was for him, or for her, or even for Janey. “Come on, it's getting late and dark and I need to put some dinner on the table. Let's say hello to your mom and then make our way back. Jake's starting to fuss.”

“Okay, but can I ask one more question?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

“Since I don't have any grandparents either, do you think Brian's parents will let me call them Grandma and Grandpa? They're so . . . formal.”