Nobody Knows Your Secret (9 page)

M
aury looked
out into the darkness and wondered what in the world was taking Skip so long. He’d told his mother he was going to the farm and check out the land he had inherited from Bill’s father. Skip’s farm consisted of more than 150 acres of hardwood-covered, mountainous land. It had been in Bill’s family for generations.

The term “farm” was a misnomer. The land was rocky and not really good for much of anything, but somehow Bill’s family had scratched out a meager living. It was the reason Bill Whittaker decided to run for sheriff.

Farm implies rich soil, and tons of it. To have made this land produce anything, you needed prayer and a miracle. It was hard, back-breaking, heart-rending work. More often than not, the elements blasted you with late frosts that killed your crops, or Mother Nature turned her back on you and roasted you with long, scorching days, barren of rain.

Or maybe the skies pelted you with hail. More often than not, something came along to make it harder to see a profitable year. Scrape by and pray for more of the same. Bill had watched the land and Nature break his father, turning him into an old man before his time.

Growing up had been hard for Bill. The family lived from hand to mouth, not knowing where their next meal was coming from at times, or even if there would be a next meal. This was not a way of life Bill wanted for his new family. He had never loved the land for the land’s sake. His son, however, had.

Skip was born with a passion for the hills. He loved roaming the mountain slopes with his grandfather in all seasons, regardless of the weather. Bill’s dad, Jubal had willed the farm to Skip after he died. Jubal hoped his grandson would keep the land in the family for another generation and that Skip would have a child someday to share his stories and experiences with. It made a man’s life worthwhile to have someone to pass on the knowledge and family history.

From the time the toddler could walk, Skip followed Jubal up and down the mountains. Jubal knew the land, and he taught Skip about the native plants and wildlife that grew there. Skip cherished the rocky slopes just as much as Jubal. Recently, Skip had been spending more and more of his free time up in those hills. Maury wondered what he was doing up on that mountainside.

On his days off, or after work, Skip would drive up, spending hours at the old cabin. He wandered the slopes, remembering the tales of his grandfather.

Jubal had been had been a marvelous storyteller. Skip soaked up all his grandfather’s stories and kept them close to his heart. The young man worked at Pixies but his heart was on the mountain. Skip was fixing up the old cabin. Every extra dollar went to buy supplies. Just like Jubal, Skip wanted to find a way to live off his land.

Bill had questioned his son at length about spending so much time on the farm. As sheriff of Hope Rock County, Bill knew too well the kinds of trouble young people were getting into. Skip denied any wrong doing, and Bill, not wanting to drive Skip away, pressed his son no further.

Skip was like Jubal Whittaker in so many ways. Most folks said Skip was the spittin’ image of his grandfather.

Jubal was a man of few words, a private person, and so was Skip. Both men seemed to hold council with only their own thoughts. It was just their way. But still, Bill worried. It was all too easy for kids to make the wrong decisions, ruin their lives. Bill fretted that his son would fall to the lure of drugs. So many kids in the area already had. The scarcity of high-paying jobs, the collapse of the coal industry, and a million other things had caused so many of Skip’s former classmates to toss away their futures.

Bill could only pray Skip steered clear of those blood-sucking, life-stealing traps.

Maury sighed and waited for the twin headlights of the old truck to cut through the darkness and signal the return of her husband. The house was quiet. It was easy to lose yourself in inner musings. She picked at a ragged hangnail, worrying it until it bled. The ringing phone tugged her back.

Her heart always caught in her throat at the sound of the phone’s ring. Maury knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t help it. Bill was a lawman. Skip was out there where God only knew. Maury knew that life could snatch the rug out from under you when you least expected it. She never took anything for granted. And so, she worried.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hey, it’s me,” Hadley said. “Just thought I’d see how you and the Whittaker crew are doing. Beanie and I got a lot of cleaning done at the Singlepenny palace of luscious litter, old junk, decaying debris, and gorgeous garbage.”

“Glad to hear you’re making headway,” Maury said. “I’m just worrying myself white-headed over my boys. Waiting for those Whittaker men to get home. I know Bill’s tied up at the office. I think Skip is probably roaming the woods on the farm. I do wish both would touch base with me. It’s just getting late, and I’m starting to worry about Skippy. He might have gotten hurt or something.”

“Oh, Maury,” Hadley said. “You are one who always likes to stew over nothing. You’ve been that way since you were a little girl. You enjoy making a mountain out of an ant hill. Skip’s a big boy. He’s cut the apron strings, Maury. And he’s smart. He can take care of himself in those woods.”

“But he’s away so much,” Maury said. “Every spare minute, he’s off in those woods. I hardly ever see my own child anymore.”

“Skip is not a child, Sis,” Hadley said. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to let go. And don’t say ‘spoken like a true mother.’ I know I have no kids, but I love Skippy like he’s my own son. You’ve got to face facts, Maury.

“Skip’s a young adult, now. He’s got a lot to think about. Decisions to make on his own He’s got to find his way. Make his mistakes. Learn from them. Suffer and grow like we all had to do. Maybe he just needs time alone. To work out what he wants to do with his life. You know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Maury, “but it still doesn’t make it easy. I tell myself all that, but my heart wishes I could protect him, you know, at least from some things. I’m his mother. You think he might confide in me. Tell me his dreams.

“Sometimes just talking about problems helps you solve them. But Skip won’t talk about anything to me. He’s as tight-lipped as Jubal was. Those two were cut from the same cloth.”

“Yes,” said Hadley, “they sure were. But Jubal was a good man, and Skip is, too.”

“I worry about him, Hadley,” Maury said. “I can’t help it. I know he’s no longer a baby, but he’s still has my heart. There’s so much stuff kids can get into these days. Bill mentions some of the horrible things he runs into. It makes me want to take my little boy and hold him tight. What if Skippy is up in those woods smoking weed or worse?”

“Do you smell it on him when he comes in? Does his breath stink like a still?”

“No,and how would I know what weed smells like. Tobacco was the worst thing you and I smoked.”

“Well, Maury, “speak for yourself. Do you smell anything like a skunky smell?”

“Hadley Jane Pell! I can’t believe my ears! You of all people! What would Harry say?”

“Who do you think I tried it with, goofball? Harry wasn’t always a stuffed-shirt, old fogie. We were pretty wild in our younger days.” Hadley said. “Seriously, does he stink when he comes home? Does he go out wearing one shirt and return wearing another? That was an old trick Harry used in college.”

“I would have never guessed Harry did anything wilder in college than try to make it to second base with you in the backseat of some old jalopy. To tell you the truth,” said Maury, “I don’t see enough of him to smell anything. He runs in once in a blue moon, grabs a bite, and heads out. He usually leaves early for Pixies and grabs supper at the Spoon. Then, he takes off for the hills in his truck. Since he got his own apartment, I’m only a stopover. He lights like a fly. It isn’t as if he calls me or visits weekly or anything. A son’s not like a daughter, you know.”

“I don’t think we were that considerate to Mom growing up, either,” Hadley said.

“Well, you were a handful, so, I tried to be the considerate one.”

“Um-hum,” Hadley said, but her tone said she was not convinced.

“Really, Hadley,” Maury said, “I don’t have a clue what Skip is doing up there or if he is even up there by himself! What if he is taking friends up there? What if he is taking a girl up there? Oh, gosh! He could ruin some slip of a daisy’s reputation, not to mention his own. They could be goin’ at it hot ’n’ heavy right this minute. Makin’ babies while we speak!

“Oh, Hadley! I’m too young to be a grandma! And I don’t want him to ruin his life or someone else’s by getting her pregnant! Skip is too young to be a father. He doesn’t make enough money to support a family! Grandkids! I shudder to think about it. In some ways, he’s still a kid himself!”

“Calm down, Maury,” Hadley said. “No sense falling off the boat when you don’t even know if you’ve struck the iceberg yet or not. Have you asked him? If he won’t talk to you, try writing him a letter.”

“It’s not that simple,” Maury said. “I have to be careful. I could drive a wedge between us. I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe,” Hadley said, “Skip’s working on that old cabin his grandfather lived in. I don’t think it would be as bad as Eustian’s house, but I would imagine it could use some
DIY
magic. It wasn’t much, if I remember. Jubal lived a kind of primitive existence up there. Didn’t have running water or electricity. I’m sure the winters have done a number on the roof. There are all the outbuildings to consider, too. They must need repairing. Skip probably has more work up there than he can shake a stick at.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Maury. “Jubal’s place would take a lot of work. It wasn’t that great when the old man was alive. I don’t think he ever spent a dime on a can of paint. Weather-beaten gray was the only color Jubal knew. I can’t imagine what it looks like after all this time.”

“You mentioned Eustian,” Hadley said. “That’s the real reason I called. I found a stack of court documents. One of them looked like it was about a case he had against Kyle Winthrop, and I wondered if Bill needed to look them.”

“I’ll tell Bill when he comes home. At least, he does come home for supper on a semi-regular basis. I never know when he will get in, so I just fix his dinner and warm it up whenever he can leave the office.”

“If he needs them, “tell him I’ll keep them here so they won’t get mixed up with the other stacks of court papers Beanie and I have been separating out from the dumpster fodder. I can drop them off anytime if he wants them.”

“I will,” said Maury.

“Look, Sis, don’t worry. Skip’s a good kid. Have some faith in the way you and Bill raised him. You’re both good parents.”

“I guess you’re right,” Maury said.

“You know I am,” Hadley said. “And besides, with an aunt like me, how could Skippy ever go wrong?”

“Oh Hadley, I wished you hadn’t said that last sentence.”

“
H
obie Stricker
! It’s good to meet you, man,” the stranger said.

Maury and Hadley were just joining the crowd at The Band-Aid. The weather was beautiful. It was a perfect day. The radio broadcast from last week was a success. The crowd gathered on Main by The Band-Aid’s front porch was double the usual one.

“Hadley! Isn’t that the man we mistook for Teddy Croft standing beside Ruth Elliot?”

“Yes, it is,” Hadley said. “I swear he could be Teddy’s brother. Don’t you think?”

“I wonder who he is?” Maury asked.

“We’ll never know if we don’t ask,” Hadley said, walking toward the couple.

“Wait! You can’t just . . . Hadley! Wait for me!”

Maury stumbled and bumped into Varn Rory.

“Sorry, Varn,” Maury said. “Two left feet.”

Maury ran to catch up.

“Hadley,” Ruth was saying when Maury breathlessly reached her sister, “this is Dr. Declan Wilson, a friend of mine. Declan’s a fan of Hobie’s. Declan owns a veterinary clinic in the Hamptons. He’s a fan, and he’s flown down on vacation, rented a cabin, and a car just to hear Hobie. His plane is down at Stanley and Anna’s airstrip. I met him in town, and he volunteered to give me a hand at the shelter.”

“Good thing,” Hadley said. “Ruth needs all hands on deck, but especially those who know what they are actually doing.”

“I’m not a wildlife specialist,” Declan said, “but I couldn’t resist seeing the place. It’s quite a setting.”

“You said it,” Hadley said. “An abandoned amusement park with at least one clown bigger than me.”

Everyone laughed.

“Are you playing today?” Ruth asked.

“Just lessons,” said Hadley. “Hobie’s going to teach us some more chords and how to start picking.”

“I purchased one of those guitars he had for sale, last week,” Declan said. “It plays like a dream.”

“Hobie’s the best,” said Hadley. “Well, nice meeting you, Doctor Wilson. I’ve got to get my chair and guitar out of the trunk.”

“No more baby chairs, Hadley?” Ruth asked.

“No. I gave those little squats up for Lent!” Hadley replied.

“I’ll give you a hand,” said Maury. “Nice meeting you.”

Maury and Hadley walked back to Hadley’s car.

“Hadley!” Maury said. “I think Ruth’s sweet on that rich vet ‘froom theee Haaamp-tons!’”

“Yeah,” Hadley said. “I think you’re right. Did you notice how close together they were standing? Couldn’t get a sheet of paper between them.”

“I hope he’s a good man.”

“Yeah. Ruth deserves it. After Bobbie Joe! Huh! What a winner he turned out to be! I never like Bobbie Joe, you know. I always thought there was something sneaky about his eyes. Beady or something. I never could quite put my finger on it. But it was something. Then, he proved me right.

“Married all of six months and falls for a bimbo he meets in a bar. He was a scumbag to cheat on Ruth like that. She should get a handsome rich vet froom theee Haaamp-tooons after Bobbie Joe. Ain’t we wicked.”

“As sin,” Maury said.