Secrets of Harmony Grove (6 page)

Suddenly, this had become the most important phone call of the day.

“Don’t you dare hang up. You know something. Tell me what it is.”

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“Tell me, Troy! Now!”

This time he really did throw up, only I had no forewarning.

As disgusting as that was, I was willing to wait it out if it meant I might get some answers when he was done. After several long moments he came back to the phone.

“I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know what’s the mat…what’s the…what’s wrong…” he said, and I realized his speech was growing slurred. Had he been drinking? Was that what was going on? He’d been tossing back beers and wandering in the woods while looking for some stupid tree?

“Are you drunk, Troy?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what’s wrong with your voice? Why are you talking like that?”

“I dunno. I really, really don’t feel good.”

Suddenly, I was afraid he might be having a stroke or something, but then I realized the more likely explanation was that if he’d been out there a while, maybe he’d become dehydrated. Not being used to outdoor activities, he probably hadn’t thought to bring along bottled water.

“Have you had any liquids lately? You could be dehydrated.”

“I had a diet soda with lunch, but I’ve been out here ever since, looking for this tree. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack,” he said, though it came out sounding more like “neilinahaysta.”

I told him enough with the tree, that he was to head straight back to the house, drink a big glass of water, and lie down. I didn’t add that the sooner he did that, the sooner we could continue the important part of this conversation, and I could find out whether there was a connection between him and what had happened to me today.

“Where am I?” he murmured.

“You’re in the grove.”

“I know that, but what part? Which way is the house?”

Growing more concerned, I told Troy I was going to put him on hold and call Floyd to go outside, find him, and help him in.

“Floyd’s out of town. Won’t be back till tonight. Been gone since Monday.”

My B and B’s manager had been out of town for two days? Maybe that’s why Troy was still there, to hold down the fort until Floyd returned, something I knew they had done in the past. Though I doubted Troy knew how to serve a delicious country breakfast to the inn’s guests, at least he was handsome and charming, and as long as ladies were present, I didn’t think they would have any complaints.

On the other end of the line, I could hear what sounded like metal clanking against metal, and I asked Troy what he was doing now.

“Trying to get back to the B and B like you tol’ me to. It’s just this latch, it’s so complicated…” Another clank and then, “There, got it…no, wait. This isn’t right. Where am I?”

“I don’t know, Troy. What latch?”

“Jus’ a latch on a gate. But it’s okay. I think if I retrace my steps, like this…” More crunching as he walked. “No, tha’s not right either. I jus’ don’t understand. Where
am
I?”

“I don’t know, Troy. I’m trying to help you figure that out. It sounds as though you’re all turned around. Are there any signs nearby? Any benches? Markers? Are you near the creek? Tell me exactly what you see.”

“I see trees, Sienna. Lots of trees. I’m in a grove. What do you think I see?”

Sarcasm was good. At least it meant he wasn’t out of his head. Just lost and confused and no doubt in dire need of liquids.

The stupid thing was that this shouldn’t be a big deal. It wasn’t as though he was lost in a national park or something. Then again, I guess to someone not used to the wild outdoors at all, the various trees and paths could begin to look alike.

What I really wanted to do was to call my cousin Jonah, whose farm was
on the other side of the grove. But Jonah was Amish, and the nearest phone for him was in a booth up by the main road, shared by more of our cousins who lived on a farm across the street from that. The shared phone had voice mail, but in my experience it wasn’t checked very often. If I left a message now, chances were good that they wouldn’t hear it for several days.

The only other person I could think to call was my Uncle Emory, who lived on the other side of the grove. But Emory was mentally disabled, and though he knew the grove like the back of his hand, I didn’t think I should put on him the responsibility of delivering Troy to safety.

“I think I see it now, what I did wrong before. I just have to—”

He stopped.

“Have to what?”

No response.

“Troy? You just have to what?”

“Shhh,” he finally whispered. “Do you hear that? What is it?” I strained to listen but couldn’t pick up anything. “Weird. I’ve never heard a sound like that before. Is it a machine? An animal?”

“I don’t know, Troy. I’m not hearing anything.”

“It’s like a hum, a low hum,” he said softly. “Like, I can almost feel it more than hear it. Sort of a rumble, you know? Almost like an earthquake, a tiny little earthquake.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. Was he having hallucinations? Should I hang up with him and call 911? While I tried to decide what to do, the phone remained silent.

“Are you still there?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Still hearing it?”

“No. It stopped. I don’t know what it was, but it stopped.”

I stood, wishing I could drive there myself. But even without traffic it would take a minimum of forty minutes, and I was afraid he might not have that much time to spare if he really was hallucinating.

“Listen, Troy, I think you should call nine-one-one. You need some help.” I didn’t add that once we hung up I would call them too on his behalf, just to be safe.

“Wait a sec. I don’ think that’s necessary, I…oh…Oh!”

I cringed, afraid he was going to throw up again. Instead, he let out a little whoop.

“I see it! Way over there! I can see the roof of the B and B. Okay, I’m good. It’s just a straight shot from here.”

His voice still sounded slurred, but at least the end was in sight. I didn’t know much about dehydration, but I had a feeling if he wasn’t too far gone all he needed to do was drink some liquids and rest. If that wasn’t enough, well, then we could call 911 after all.

“I’m sorry I bothered you with all of this, Sienna. Such a big fuss over a stupid tree. Anyway, I gotta go. I’ll be all right. We can talk later.”

“Troy, wait.
Don’t
hang up.”

The crunch of his footsteps changed, and I realized that as he walked it was sounding less like leaves and more like gravel, which meant he really was on the right track. The grove sat in a long, flat oval, and it was encircled around the perimeter by a gravel path. If he was on gravel now and could see the inn in the distance, then I had a general idea of where he was and I knew he wouldn’t get lost again.

“Now that you have found your way, get back to what you were saying before. What did you mean, you didn’t see this coming? Do you know anything about my being investigated?”

He didn’t answer at first, but I knew he was there because I could hear his footsteps and his breathing.

“Troy? Talk to me. What do you know?”

He exhaled slowly.

“Look, I’ll put it this way,” he said finally. “Jus’ don’t blame me if the feds are on to things here, okay? Tha’s Floyd’s fault, not mine.”

“Things?” I demanded. “What things?”

“Tha’s all I’m saying. I didn’t mess up. Floyd did. Look, I gotta go.”

And then, without another word, he hung up.

For the next ten minutes, I tried calling him back, but he wasn’t answering. I left several urgent messages in his voice mail, each one angrier than the one before. Finally, I switched tactics and tried calling the bed-and-breakfast directly, even though Troy had said Floyd wasn’t there. That call
also went to voice mail, and after I heard my own recorded self politely asking callers to leave a message and we would get back to them, I practically yelled into the phone, “Floyd, this is Sienna Collins. Call me on my cell phone.
Now
.”

I heard the back door opening as I disconnected the call, and I looked up to see my father standing in the doorway, concern etched across his features.

“Honey? Is everything okay?”

I tried to recover from the moment, squaring my shoulders and smoothing my hair. Should I tell him? I wanted to. But did he really need to take on my burdens when he was burdened enough already?

Trying to make my voice sound light, I simply said that I was having some issues at work, and that I was sorry I had to be out here fussing at people on the phone rather than visiting with him and Mom.

“Listen, she and I both know how busy you are, especially with the new job. It was an incredibly sweet gesture for you to come out here tonight, but please don’t feel that you have to stay. You got some cooking done, and for that I am grateful. Almost burned the corn bread, but I got it out in time.”

The corn bread! With Troy’s call I had forgotten all about it.

“Anyway,” he continued, “please don’t think you have to stick around just because you feel like you should. It’s the thought that counts.”

If his words had come from anyone else, I might have seen them as suspect, thinking I wasn’t wanted or something. But I knew him too well, and I was confident my father’s selfless sentiments were genuine.

And though being with my parents really was where I belonged right now, I also knew I wouldn’t be any good to either of them until everything was sraightened out. Bottom line, I needed to drive out to Lancaster County and confront Troy face-to-face.

Fifteen minutes later I was on the road and talking to Liz, who said that so far she hadn’t been able to come up with anything. I told her about my bizarre conversation with Troy, but she became so worked up at the thought that this situation might somehow involve him that I didn’t have the nerve to admit that at that moment I was on my way to see him.

Better she learn that after the fact, once I had confronted him and forced him to give me more information. Liz promised to keep looking into things on her end, and after we hung up I couldn’t help but feel as if the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders.

Seeing my poor mother and what she was going through had helped to put the whole mess in perspective, but there was no denying that it was indeed a mess, one very confusing, ugly mess, and right now the only hope I had of cleaning it up was walking down a gravel path at Harmony Grove, babbling about earthquakes and likely suffering from dehydration. Depending on traffic, the trip to the inn could take as little as forty minutes or as much as an hour and a half. Regardless, it was the only course of action I had for now. I headed west and continued to dial Troy’s cell phone number every ten minutes or so along the way. Between calls, I gobbled down the large chunk of corn bread my father had pushed on me as I was leaving.

Of course, given the day I was having, traffic ended up being exceptionally heavy. By the time I turned from the main road onto the street that
led to my final destination, it was after 7:00 p.m. Even in my current distracted, angry, and frightened state of mind, the beauty of the scenery took my breath away, as it always had.