The Body in the Sleigh (24 page)

She was starting to pull away from the dock. The shadows were lengthening as the morning crept into afternoon; darkness was falling on the picture in her mind as well. Then she remembered something else.

“I took two thousand dollars from the money I left with the baby. Mary stashed it all in a bale of hay in the barn. She told me last night. I think she knew what I'd do. But I'll pay it back. Be sure to tell her.”

Miriam had a lot of things she wanted to be sure Mary knew.

This wasn't the right ending, but it was the ending. There was only one more thing.

“I told you that you could get in touch with me if you need to,” Miriam said.

Or
you
need to, Faith thought.

“The island newspaper is online now,” Miriam said. “In July Mary and I joked about how high-tech the island was becoming
and that she would be selling cheese on the Internet soon. We'll use the Personals; you know, where people put ads saying ‘happy anniversary' or ‘thanks for the cards' when they were in the hospital. I'll call you if I see one that says, ‘Mother Mary, come to me.'”

Faith held Christopher up so Miriam could see him. She waved and left them, heading for the bridge, not far away, and a ride to somewhere.

Let it be.

The New Year's Eve sky was filled with stars when Mary Bethany brought her baby into their barn. The brief warm spell of the last two days had given way to bitter cold and she had bundled Christopher into his snowsuit and wrapped him in a blanket before putting him into the sling, which kept him close to her heart. Close to her heart. He'd arrived in this barn only a little over a week ago and she was already having trouble imagining her life without him. The nannies greeted them with a chorus that did not resemble “Auld Lang Syne,” so she hummed the tune as she milked. “A cup of kindness”—she knew it referred to sharing a dram of something, but liked the image of a cup truly overflowing with some sort of ephemeral kindness. A vapor that even now she felt mixing with the warm, sweet hay smell in the barn. Miriam had asked her to raise Christopher to be a good man and to Mary this meant a kind man, a man who would do unto others, following the Golden Rule. When she looked at his face and into his bright, alert eyes, she was sure that she saw the man he would become and rejoiced.

When Miriam had placed the infant in Mary's arms and told
her he was hers, Mary knew she was receiving the greatest gift anyone could give. She felt as if her whole life had been a preparation for this trust and was glad that the fates had kept her from other paths. Christopher was meant to be her son. She had already started rehearsing what she would tell him when he was old enough about the night he arrived and the loving mother who cared so much about him that she knew she had to give him up. What she would say about his father, Mary wasn't sure, but there was time to figure it all out.

The baby sneezed and Mary stopped humming, quickly finishing her chores. She knew he wasn't cold. It was a tickle kind of sneeze, but she wanted to return to the house and put him in his crib. Faith had brought all sorts of baby things, some a marvel to Mary, like the little windup swing. Christopher Bethany had everything he needed.

She stepped out into the yard and looked up into the night sky. The moon hadn't risen yet, but she'd seen it last night—almost the third quarter. Some folks minded the early dark of winter, but Mary never had. It was part of the rhythm of the seasons and she embraced them all. Auld Lang Syne was now.

 

On the other side of the island, people were still arriving at the Dickinsons'. The house smelled of fresh paint—and all sorts of tantalizing food aromas. Jill had been baking and cooking for days, telling everyone simply to bring themselves, but nobody listened. Earl had extended the long dining room table with doors set on sawhorses, which Jill had covered with bright cloths from her shop. Every inch was covered with traditional favorites like baked beans and brown bread, an enormous baked ham studded with cloves, baking-powder biscuits the size of catcher's mitts, pickled beets, chowchow, watermelon pickles, three-bean salad, Jell-O molds, and pies of every possible description from blueberry to
coconut cream. There was also a fair smattering of fare not usually seen at island suppers, such as the pâtés Faith had brought—a layered seafood one, chicken liver with Madeira, and a hearty pork country variety. She'd also made a large, nontipsy trifle in a glass bowl that displayed the succulent layers of fruit, ladyfingers, and whipped cream.

At ten o'clock, Amy conked out and Tom carried her up to the bedroom where everyone had thrown coats and jackets across the large bed. Two other kids were already nestled down. Faith had followed them up, and as Tom deposited Amy among the down parkas and woolen overcoats, she recalled similar, long-ago nights—waking with her equally drowsy sister, Hope, at their aunt Chat's apartment in New York, protesting at having missed seeing the ball drop before promptly falling back asleep in the cab that took the Sibleys across Central Park back to their side of that other island.

Ben was firm. He wasn't at all tired. He was with the group of teens watching television in the cozy den that doubled as Jill's office. Nan Marshall was there too, having confided to Faith that she was a lifelong Dick Clark fan. Amused as she was by the confession, Faith knew it was more likely that Nan couldn't bear to let her grandson out of her sight.

Jake Whittaker was totally in the clear so far as the police were concerned and the coach hadn't said anything. Wouldn't. Whatever punishment Jake deserved for breaking training had been meted out to him a thousandfold. Faith had been startled—and saddened—to see the change in the boy's face. A permanent change. He looked older, bitter, and utterly bereft.

The events of that night and its aftermath were becoming clearer each day. Lab results on Jake's hair had revealed that he too had been given Rohypnol, which accounted for his loss of memory. And then there was the letter Miriam had left for the authorities detailing Bruce Judd's drug connections and her belief that he was
responsible for Norah's death directly or indirectly. When shown a photograph of Bruce, Jake recalled seeing him in the kitchen of the Temple Heights house shortly before Norah arrived. In Jake's mind, there was no doubt that Bruce followed them and overheard their conversation. Norah had been given the overdose and placed in Jake's car, along with Jake, himself unconscious. The car was then driven down to Sanpere by Eddie Sanford and a cousin of his. Miriam had named Eddie in her letter as Bruce's contact on the island and the person responsible for the break-ins that had occurred during the fall. He was a regular at the apartment in Orono and had amused Bruce with his scornful descriptions of what the summer people left lying about. A sometime fisherman, Eddie had proved useful the summer before in both transporting and receiving Bruce's caches. Faith remembered his grandmother Daisy and her comment that hearts on the island would be breaking over Norah. Daisy's heart was surely breaking over the grandson whose generosity was funded by a life of crime.

Ralph and Duane, Faith's captors, would be guests of the state for a very, very long time. Besides the kidnapping and weapons charges, the pickup had yielded a cornucopia of illegal drugs.

It was close to midnight and Faith went in search of Tom. He was crowded into the den with Ben, fighting sleep, on his lap. She realized it was probably one of the last times Ben would occupy this position. He would soon be a teenager, but for tonight he was their little boy still.

More people entered the room, their faces reflecting hopes, dreams, and all sorts of optimistic resolutions. Faith slipped next to Tom and took his hand. She hadn't tried to downplay what she had been through as she had occasionally with past tight situations. This had been the worst, and she could still feel the muzzle of the gun on the back of her neck at times. These days if she wasn't reaching for Tom, he was for her.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Ben sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Seven, six, five…” he chanted with the others.

“Four, three, two…”

Just one more second of this year. A difficult year. Never wish time away, Faith's mother had told her more than once. But if ever Faith did wish it gone, it would be now.

And suddenly it was.

“One! Happy New Year!”

The Fairchilds kissed each other. A long, lingering kiss, then sang along with everyone else:

She knew she was crying. The song always made her cry. “Auld Lang Syne”—“good old days.”

Auld Lang Syne was now.

By Faith Sibley Fairchild
(A WORK IN PROGRESS)

Seafood Risotto

5 cups fish stock

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 small yellow onion, diced

1½ cups Arborio rice

½ cup grated Parmesan cheese

2 cups small, cooked shrimp (shelled and deveined)

8 ounces crabmeat

Parsley for garnish

 

Pour the stock in a large saucepan and heat to a simmer.

While the stock is heating, melt the butter and oil in a pot (Faith likes a Le Creuset-type casserole). Sauté the onion until soft and add the rice, sautéing for 2 more minutes.

Using a ladle, add the heated stock approximately ½ cup at a
time, stirring after each addition until all the liquid is absorbed. Whole Foods and other stores sell an excellent prepared fish stock if you do not have the time or ingredients to make your own.

When all the stock has been used, stir in the cheese and then fold in the shrimp and crab.

Serve garnished with chopped parsley. Serves 6.

This is tasty with just the shrimp or crab. Heavenly with lobster.

 

“The Annie” Breakfast Sandwich

2 large eggs (per person)

¼ cup crumbled feta cheese

1 generous handful loosely packed fresh spinach, stemmed

Freshly ground pepper

Unsalted butter

2 slices of grilled or toasted sourdough bread

2 slices tomato

 

Beat the eggs and stir in the cheese, spinach, and a pinch of pepper.

Butter the bread and set aside on a warm plate.

Scramble the egg mixture in a nonstick frying pan.

Place the tomato slices on the bread and mound the filling on top. Cut the sandwich in half and serve immediately. Good with rye also.

Kyra Alex of Lily's Café in Stonington, Maine, names many of her sandwiches and other dishes for friends—Ethel's Pulled Pork, Darrell's Muffaletta, Cecil's Chicken, and, in this case, Annie. I think of it as my sister Annie's, though!

 

Pumpkin Pie Soup

4 cups pumpkin puree (your own from a sugar pumpkin or canned)

1½ teaspoons cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1 teaspoon nutmeg

4 cups chicken stock, preferably salt-free

3 tablespoons brown sugar

½ teaspoon salt

2 cups half-and-half or light cream

Sour cream

 

Mix the first 7 ingredients together in a large saucepan and bring to a simmer. Simmer for about 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and add the half and half. Let sit for 5 minutes and reheat gently. Serve with a dollop of sour cream to cut the sweetness. Serves 4–6.

Children love this nutritious dish. For all ages, it's fun to use a mug, piping a rosette of sour cream on top.

 

Chocolate Bread Pudding

4 large eggs

1½ cups milk

1½ cups half and half or light cream

¼ cup white sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

Pinch of salt

5 thick slices of chocolate bread, cubed

Butter to grease the pan

1 cup dried cherries

1 cup semisweet chocolate morsels

 

Mix the eggs, milk, half and half, sugar, vanilla, and salt together. Faith likes to pulse this in a blender, which makes it easy to pour over the bread cubes.

Put the bread cubes in a large mixing bowl and pour the egg mixture over them. Use the palm of your hand to gently push the bread into the liquid to make sure it absorbs evenly. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350°.

Butter a Pyrex-type baking pan, approximately 12 by 8 inches. Set aside.

Mix the cherries and chocolate chips together in a small bowl.

Put a layer of the bread mixture in the pan, sprinkle the cherry/ chip mixture over it, and cover with the remaining bread mixture.
Again, use the palm of your hand to press down, so the ingredients are evenly distributed.

Bake for 40 minutes.

Serve warm with vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt.

This is a very rich dessert and this recipe will serve 12 easily.

Norwegian Christmas Cake—Mor Monsens Kake

1 pound plus 2 teaspoons unsalted butter, softened

2 cups white sugar

4 large eggs

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup finely chopped blanched almonds

¼ cup currants

 

Preheat the oven to 375°.

Using a paper towel, spread a 12-by-18-inch jelly-roll pan with 2 teaspoons of butter.

Cream the remaining butter and the sugar together with an electric mixer. When light and fluffy, beat in the eggs—one at a time—and then the flour and vanilla. Spread the batter evenly onto the pan and sprinkle with the chopped almonds and currants.

Bake 20 to 25 minutes, until the surface is a light gold.

Remove from the oven and let the cake cool in the pan.

Cut the cake into diamonds, or squares, with a sharp knife.

This cake may be made up to 2 weeks before Christmas, but they must then be wrapped in aluminum foil or placed in an airtight tin. Makes about 2 dozen small cakes.