The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (7 page)

At the top of the hill, they paused to let the horses rest. The sun had dipped below the distant mountain-tops, crowning them in gold and painting those to the east a luminous rose—the elusive pink moment. Lion’s Head and Sulphur Peak, Moon’s Nest, and the snowcapped Sleeping Indian Chief. On the neighboring hill, a moat of shadow had formed around the fortresslike walls of the convent. Laura could barely make out the dirt road to the apiary beyond, where the nuns of Our Lady of the Wayside had been harvesting honey for nearly a century.

She sighed. “It’s so peaceful.” Coyotes and mountain lions still roamed these hills. She spotted rattlesnakes from time to time, even the occasional black bear. If you left them alone, she’d found, they didn’t bother you. “Sometimes I think everything would be just fine if I could spend the rest of my life on horseback.”

Hector chuckled. “You’d get awful saddle sore.”

She thought of Peter. “I can think of worse things.”

He frowned, and she saw a muscle flicker in his jaw. Laura thought of her mother’s favorite expression:
If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all.
Hector had disliked her husband from the start, though she couldn’t recall him ever uttering a single disparaging word. Peter, on the other hand, had been quick to criticize Hector behind his back for acting more like a family member than a hired hand.

A long moment passed, then he turned to her and said, “You’re better off without him. You just don’t know it yet.”

She looked at him in surprise. Hector was seldom that blunt…ironically, because he didn’t think it was his place. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Yeah, like smoking.” He’d given it up last year.

Laura supposed getting over a divorce was the same in some ways—it got a little easier with each passing day. “I heard Peter and his wife are expecting.” She was careful to strike a nonchalant tone in an effort to hold the pain, circling like a hungry jackal, at bay.

Hector nodded. “I ran into Farber last week. He mentioned something.” Rich Farber, their family dentist, was an old friend of Peter’s.

“I guess the ex-wife is always the last to know.” Now the pain did strike, sinking its teeth to the bone. Laura squinted against the tears that welled. The bastard. Would it have hurt him to pick up the phone? Instead, she’d had to hear it from that old busybody Gayle Warrington. “It shouldn’t have surprised me,” she said. “He wouldn’t have married anyone who didn’t want children.”

“
You
wanted them.”

“The difference is I couldn’t have them.”

“There were other choices.” Hector’s mouth was flat and unsmiling.

“Adoption, you mean?” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’d have gone for it in a heartbeat, but Peter wouldn’t even consider it. Nothing but his own flesh and blood would do.”

He shot her a keen glance. “I didn’t know. You never said anything.”

“I couldn’t talk to anyone. Not even Alice.” How to explain how inadequate she’d felt. Like factory goods marked down as irregular. Even now it was almost too painful to discuss.

He didn’t say anything, but the compassion in his face eased the pain somehow. She told him then about the girl. How she’d appeared out of nowhere. How fiercely she’d fought back when Ian held her pinned and at the same time how oddly defenseless she’d seemed. Hector listened closely, nodding here and there as if in understanding.

When she was finished, he asked, “What about her parents?”

“I don’t even know where she’s from.” Laura recalled Maude’s words. “But from what I’ve seen so far, I’m betting her parents are the problem, not the solution.”

“She might be in some kind of trouble.”

“That, or she’s running from it. I couldn’t say for sure, but something tells me she’s been abused.”

“What makes you think that?”

“She’s got the look,” Laura said. “Like an animal that won’t take food from your hand, no matter how hungry it is.”

She ran her hand absently over the ropy scar on Punch’s neck. Four years ago he’d been found cooped in a stall behind a derelict house, half starved and hock-deep in muck, the wound from a too-tight halter infected. The vet wasn’t sure he’d pull through. It had taken months of careful nurturing before he was well enough to be ridden.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Hector said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

She noted he’d said
we
, and was thankful that he saw this as a joint enterprise. “Thanks, I will.”

Laura gave Punch a little nudge with her heels, and they started back down the trail. The sky was an ashy rose and a ghost moon sailed on a flimsy raft of cloud. A condor circled overhead in search of its evening meal. All quiet on the western front, she thought. For the moment, at least…

It was nearly dark by the time they got back. Laura dismounted and led her horse into the barn. As she flicked on the overhead light, its concrete floor was thrown into glaring relief. “I didn’t realize it had gotten to be so late,” she said, thinking of Maude all alone with the girl.

“You go on in,” Hector said. “I’ll take care of the horses.”

She hesitated. “Don’t you have class tonight?”

“I have time.”

He plucked his hat from his head, tossing it onto a nail. In the stark light his face was sharply defined: his angular jaw and the lines bracketing his flared nose, his coffee-colored eyes narrowed in a more or less permanent squint. A band of sweat glistened faintly on his forehead, and his thick, black hair was pushed into damp little spikes. She looked away, not wanting him to catch her staring. Like when she was sixteen and had followed him around like a lovesick puppy. He must have known, though typically he’d pretended not to notice.

“Why do I always feel I’m taking advantage of you?” she asked.

He grinned, showing a chipped front tooth. “Don’t flatter yourself.” A reference, no doubt, to the women who’d tried, and failed, to get a handle on him.

“Okay then. Have it your way.” She was halfway out the door when she turned and said softly, “Thanks, Hec. I really don’t pay you enough, and you know it.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” While Judy waited her turn, he replaced Punch’s bridle with a halter and clipped it to the crossties. They both knew she couldn’t afford more than a pittance, plus room and board. No use belaboring the point.

“I guess I have enough to worry about as it is,” she conceded.

Hector grabbed a towel and began rubbing Punch down. “Just one thing: Don’t get too attached.” It was as if he’d read her mind. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to turn her loose.”

His words echoed in her mind as she made her way across the yard. Hector was right. Finch wasn’t a horse or a dog she could take under her wing.
Whatever her problems it isn’t my job to fix them.
She might even be biting off far more than she could chew. And yet there was something so vulnerable about the girl under that layer of callused toughness. A tiny spark of hope in those bruised eyes that had touched a chord.
I might not be able to fix what’s wrong,
she thought,
but maybe I can keep that spark from going out.

She found Maude at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of tea. She’d changed into her chenille robe and slippers. Her hair hung down her back in a loosely plaited braid the color of old piano keys. She glanced up at Laura. “Not a peep. Still out like a light.”

Laura tugged her boots off, and tossed them onto the porch. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “She looked as though she hadn’t slept in days.”

“Not to mention all that food on an empty stomach.” Maude wore a distracted look as she brought her steaming mug to her lips. Her hand was trembling, sending hot tea sloshing over the rim.

Laura grabbed a napkin to mop the table, then sank down in the chair opposite her. “Maude, is everything all right?”

She was reminded of the state in which she’d first found Maude, around this time last year, stranded by the side of the road with her broken-down Impala. In the trunk was a suitcase and a Mason jar filled with old buttons collected over the years—the sum of her earthly possessions. Laura had given her a lift to the house so she could call for a tow truck. But it turned out the repairs would’ve been more than the old heap was worth, and besides, Maude was nearly penniless. Laura had invited her to stay for a few days, days that had stretched into months. Meanwhile, Maude, not one to sit idle, had taken over the cooking and laundry and all but the heaviest chores. Now she was as integral a part of the household as Hector.

“Elroy called while you were out,” she said.

“Your son?” Laura tried to keep the disdain from her voice. The last time Elroy had phoned his mother was on her birthday, more than a month and a half ago.

Using both hands, Maude carefully lowered her mug to the table. “He wants me to move back in withVerna and him.”

“What?”
Laura sat back, stunned.

“I know, I know.” Maude shook her head as if she didn’t quite believe it, either. “It was the last thing I expected. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

“After the way they treated you? It’s crazy!” And she only knew the half of it. Maude was far too loyal to paint her son and daughter-in-law as the monsters Laura was certain they were.

Maude sighed. “It doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Elroy must feel guilty. I suppose this is his way of getting rid of it.”

“I didn’t think of it that way, but you could be right.” Maude fell silent, lost in thought.

Laura began to worry. “That doesn’t mean you have to do what he wants.”

“Well, now, maybe it wasn’t all that bad. I
was
a burden in a lot of ways. It’s hard enough making ends meet without some old lady dragging you down. And Elroy has his father’s quick temper.”

There she went, making excuses for him again. “You’re not dragging
me
down,” Laura said. “Just the opposite.”

“Bless your heart.” Maude patted her hand, looking on the verge of tears. “Why, if I thought I was a burden to you I’d…I’d put myself down like an old dog.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I’d think about it.” As if sensing her distress their little tabby leaped into Maude’s lap. She stroked it tenderly while Napoleon, jealous of the attention Josie was getting, mewed pathetically at her feet—a big, fierce-looking tom with one torn ear and the disposition of a two-year-old. “I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He said he was sorry for the way he treated me. He…he sounded as if he meant it.”

“What about what
you
want?”

Maude smiled, as if the answer should have been obvious. “This past year has been the happiest of my life.”

“Why didn’t you tell that to Elroy?”

“He’s my only child.” Maude shook her head slowly, eyes bright with unshed tears. She was too kind to say it
:
You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother.

Laura winced inwardly nonetheless.

At that precise moment a piercing scream tore through the house, sending goose bumps swarming up the back of her neck. It was coming from the bedroom down the hall.

It was the same dream as always. A man chasing her down a dark street. She couldn’t see his face, only the gun in his hand. If he caught her, he’d kill her. There was only one way out: She’d have to fly. She spread her arms, flapping with all her might, and felt herself lift up, toes hovering just above the pavement…but that was as high as she could go. And now the man was nearly upon her…

“Finch.”

With a thump she spiraled up into consciousness, opening her eyes to a shadowy figure even more frightening than the one in her dream. Because this one was real. “Whassat?” She bolted upright, rubbing eyes coated in gray fuzz. Her throat felt thick and dry.

Firm hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just me…Laura.”

The girl began to shiver. It was cold, as cold as winter in New York. Then she remembered…the wedding…and falling asleep in the back of an SUV. She had no memory of coming here, and now looked about the strange room to get her bearings. In the light spilling in from the hallway she saw a dresser and overstuffed chair, and what looked like a quilt hanging on the wall. On the dresser was a jar that glittered as if with treasure; it was filled with buttons, she saw. She looked back at the woman.

“I must’ve been dreaming,” she said groggily.

“Sounded more like a nightmare.” The woman smiled. She’d changed into jeans and a chambray shirt, yet looked prettier somehow than at the wedding. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed as if from the outdoors. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I don’t remember.” Someone had thought to cover her with a blanket, and now she pulled it up over her shoulders, holding it around her like a cape. She couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

“I sometimes talk in my sleep,” Laura confided, speaking as cozily as if she’d known her all her life. “That’s what my husband used to say. Of course, I never had any idea until he told me.”

“You’re married?” Finch ventured.

“Divorced.”

“Oh.” To the girl this was normal. She knew hardly anyone whose parents were still together.

“Almost two years,” Laura said.

Finch said the first thing that came to mind. “You don’t seem old enough.”

Laura laughed. “He was my high school sweetheart. We got married right out of college.” She lifted a corner of the blanket, which was dragging on the floor, smoothing it over the bed. “Funny. I couldn’t have imagined life without him, but I didn’t curl up and die the way I thought I would.”

The girl didn’t know what to say. She was suspicious of all this niceness. At the same time she felt a strange yearning to trust this woman. She settled for a noncommittal shrug. “You didn’t have a choice,” she said.

“There’s an old saying: God never gives us more than we can handle.” Laura drifted into thought, the light from the hallway illuminating her square face that ought to have been plain but was somehow pretty. After a moment she roused herself and said brightly, “I’m not being a very good hostess, am I? What can I get you—a glass of water, something to eat?”