The Keeping (6 page)

He quickly
withdrew and Lucy kissed him, gushing about how good it had been.
Murmuring appropriately, he turned to the toilet, removing the
condom and cleaning himself up. In the mirror, he could see Lucy
making herself presentable. Once they were both dressed, she kissed
his jaw and whispered in his ear.

“Happy birthday,
Ryne. Bryan and Daniel told me what day it was, so I thought I’d
better give you something.”

“Why thanks, Lucy.
It was the perfect gift for the man who has everything.” He
responded with his trademark grin, patting Lucy’s rear and giving
her a kiss before she left the bathroom and headed back to work, a
satisfied smile gracing her face. Ryne stayed behind, leaning
against the wall of the darkened hallway, thinking about what had
just happened.

He wasn’t sure if
he should thank the other two men or hit their heads together for
interfering in his life. They probably meant well, and noticing
that he was sitting by himself in a dark corner, decided to cheer
him up by sending Lucy over. Usually a romp with the waitress would
have raised his spirits and he’d spend the rest of the evening
enjoying her company. But not tonight. Sure the sex had been good,
the release of tension easing his mood somewhat, but a night of
bantering with the blonde didn’t hold its usual appeal.

Running his hands
through his hair, he considered what could possibly be wrong with
him. Maybe it wasn’t his birthday, or missing the family or the
fact that it was spring and he was alone. Maybe it was the phone
call he’d received two weeks ago. It had been gnawing at him ever
since Kane contacted him, letting him know that some woman was in
town asking about a man named Ryne Taylor.

At first, Ryne had
laughed. Lots of girls asked about him and as long as she wasn’t
pregnant... Kane had cut through his laughter by announcing that
she was there because of the picture. His brother hadn’t even had
to say which picture. Instinctively, he knew.

Ryne was a
photographer and he had no qualms about admitting that he was good.
There’d been a few showings of his work and some minor critical
acclaim bestowed upon him. Last fall, when he’d needed money, he
had instructed his then girlfriend, Marla, to sell all of his
pictures with the exception of one. Even though their relationship
had turned rocky, he’d had faith that Marla would be professional
and do her job. The woman had worked at an art gallery and he
thought she’d be able to get a fair price for the photographs. Of
course, like everything else touched by the bitch, it had all gone
wrong. His pictures had sold, but Marla stole the proceeds. Worst
of all, she’d sold the one picture he’d expressly said not to show
to the public. Now the picture was out there somewhere, and
everyone was just waiting for the proverbial other shoe to
drop.

He hadn’t told
Bryan and Daniel yet, but if someone was inquiring after him, and
mentioning the photo, it could only mean one thing. The secret was
out and now he had to prepare for the fallout.

Chapter 4

It was the middle
of March. Spring was making its presence known and the snow was
finally starting to melt in Northern Ontario. Bits of green were
poking out of the ground and buds were beginning to swell on tree
branches. The air contained that indescribable quality of warmth
and promise that the last of the wintery weather was past and
fairer days were ahead. On the local radio station, the forecaster
happily babbled away about seeing flocks of tundra swans overhead
as the birds made their annual return migration north, while his
co-host squealed with delight over the appearance of a robin in her
backyard. Their positive mood should have been contagious, but Mel
was too busy dodging potholes on the road to appreciate the wonders
of the changing season.

Not for the first
time, did she curse Ryne Taylor, and whatever demon had possessed
him, when he decided to move to Northern Ontario. Apparently, Stump
River was in the middle of nowhere, beyond decently paved roads,
fast food restaurants, and shopping malls. With the exception of a
few small farm houses, Mel would have thought there was no one even
living here. It was at least an hour since she’d passed through a
town, if the small group of houses clustered around a gas station
and a general store could even be called something that grand.

The gas station
attendant had assured her that Stump River was ‘a nice sized place,
just down the road a ways.’ Mel had grave doubts about the man’s
idea of a ‘nice size.’ After all, he’d also assured her the road
was fine, only suffering some slight disrepair due to the spring
thaw. As the car lurched and then bounced through yet another
series of craters, Mel swore. Her teeth were clicking together and
her head was almost brushing the roof as she joggled up and down in
the driver’s seat. Yeah, right. The road was
perfectly
fine.
She snorted. Sure it was fine, if you were looking to spend a ton
of money getting your car repaired, and then visiting a
chiropractor to have your spine realigned. Thankfully, she was
driving a rental. Her own vehicle, at its advanced age, would never
survive this rough treatment.

On the other hand,
at least her car had decent seats; the rental did not. This fact
pointedly came to her attention when a loose spring poked her in
the rear for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She was
sure that area of her anatomy would never forgive her for the rough
treatment it was enduring. Shifting into a relatively more
comfortable spot, Mel wondered if Taylor was actually a harbinger
of bad luck rather than good fortune. Yes, she was being paid well,
but both of her ‘field trips’ to find him had resulted in her
facing bad driving conditions, to obscure towns, in poorly
maintained vehicles. Oh well, there was no turning back now, and
surely her luck was due to turn around soon.

*****

Twenty minutes
later, Mel pulled into a parking space along the main street of
Stump River. She turned off the ignition and sighed with relief
that the bone-rattling journey was finally over. She wasn’t made
for ‘roughing’ it; the lack of smooth roads and the absence of
washrooms and coffee shops on every corner, had her feeling like
she’d fallen into some kind of time warp and was now trapped in the
back of beyond.

Yes, she knew she
was being a tad melodramatic but her head ached and her body was
stiff—what she wouldn’t give for a soothing latte right now.
Ruefully, she surveyed her surroundings and fought off despair.
Small town—one point. Fancy coffee—zero. Well, she could try to
look on the bright side. At least, it was larger than the last
community she’d passed through.

From her vantage
point, Mel checked out the street to the right, which was
approximately two blocks in length. A small medical clinic was at
the far end of the town. It was rather new from the look of the
brick and the clean white sign hanging in front of it proudly
proclaiming its hours of operation. Next in line was a small diner
simply called ‘Ruth’s. Red checked curtains hung in the window and
wooden planter boxes stood on either side of the door awaiting
planting. A church with a modest spire and a small graveyard beside
it came next, then a cenotaph, and finally a barbershop followed by
a few houses. Swivelling her head to the left, she noted that she’d
parked beside the local newspaper office. A sign in the window
proclaimed that publishing occurred every Wednesday and you must
submit your items for inclusion by closing time on Mondays.

A rather
disreputable looking bar caught her attention next, and she quickly
skimmed over it, having no intention of ever setting foot in such a
place. Located beside it, was a gas station that had one set of
pumps and two bays for car repair. Several vehicles were parked
around it. Some were still in decent shape, while others seemed to
be defying the odds by still being on the road despite advanced
rust damage.

Through her
rear-view mirror, Mel could see a general store, which seemed to be
the main hub of activity at the moment; several people entered and
exited even as she watched. It also had signs indicating it was the
location of the post office and the catalogue order store as well.
A hand painted sign pointed to the rear and proclaimed unisex hair
designs were available around the back.

Light traffic
moved up and down the street, which sported the grand total of one
traffic light. Chuckling, Mel noted a dog sitting patiently on the
curb as if waiting for the light to change colour. Sure enough,
when the signal turned green, the canine stood and went on its way.
A few pedestrians were also crossing the road, though they were
less law abiding than the dog and unabashedly jaywalked across the
town’s main thoroughfare. At least one person slowed their pace and
took a moment to look her way, apparently realising that her
vehicle wasn’t a local one and hence someone new must be in
town.

Welcome to Stump
River, she muttered. A place where everybody knows your name. The
idea of such a small community made her vaguely uncomfortable, but
on the other hand, it would probably help in her search for Taylor.
If the man had lived here for more than a week, the locals probably
knew all of his life history.

With this thought
in mind, she bravely climbed out of her car and headed towards the
building beside her. It was the home of the Stump River Gazette.
Hopefully, the local reporter would know exactly where Taylor
lived. Perhaps, someone there would also be instrumental in helping
her locate a place to stay overnight. She crossed her fingers,
praying that there were rooms to rent locally, not looking forward
to the idea of travelling that so-called road every day for the
next week or so while she conducted her interviews.

A bell jingled
merrily as she entered the small building housing the inner
workings of the Gazette. The scent of newsprint and old coffee hit
her as soon as she stepped inside. A brief look around the room
indicated that it was a stereotypical small town newspaper. Past
articles were pinned to the wall along with posters for free
kittens and an upcoming fundraiser. Three wooden chairs sat waiting
for someone to sit in them and a tired philodendron graced the
corner near an ancient cast iron heater. Midway across the room, an
old laminate counter divided the work area from the customer
service zone. Behind it, a middle-aged woman sat frowning at a
computer screen, the piece of technology rather at odds with its
surroundings. A short distance from the computer station, a man of
similar age was engaged in a conversation on the phone,
occasionally jotting notes as he nodded at something the caller
must have said. He glanced Mel’s way and raised a finger,
indicating he would just be a moment.

Mel leaned against
the counter and waited patiently for the man to finish his
business. It was a short wait and soon he was strolling over to
talk to her.

“Good morning,
ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Hello. My name is
Melody Greene. I’m looking for Ryne Taylor and I was wondering if
you’d be able to tell me where to find him?”

“Ryne, eh?” The
man rubbed his chin thoughtfully and Mel absentmindedly noted how
the overhead lighting shone off his mostly balding head, the shiny
area being surrounded by a greying fringe. “Well, it’s Saturday so
he won’t be in town today. His place is about ten miles away, on
Stump Line. Are you familiar with the area?”

“No. It’s my first
time to Stump River.”

“I thought so,
since I couldn’t recall having seen you before. My name’s Josh
Kennedy, by the way.” He reached across the counter and they shook
hands. His grip was firm and friendly, a polite smile gracing his
pleasant face.

“Pleased to meet
you. Is Taylor’s place hard to find?”

“Well, it’s set
back in the woods and the driveway is easy to miss if you aren’t
looking for it. Is he expecting you?”

“No, not really.
It’s a surprise.” Mel felt it best to keep her cards close to her
chest for the time being in case these people were as inclined to
keep her away from her goal, as Elise and her fellow townsfolk had
been.

“Uh-huh.” Josh
looked her up and down as if he knew something.

Mel swore his eyes
lingered on her waist and she felt herself blushing. The man
obviously thought she was an abandoned girlfriend—possibly even a
pregnant, abandoned girl friend—looking to find Ryne. It made her
wonder about the photographer. Maybe he wasn’t seventy and
pot-bellied, after all. Could the term ‘playboy’ suit him
instead?

“Well, I can draw
you a map, but I’ll warn you. Ryne and his friends aren’t overly
fond of visitors to their house. They have no trespassing signs
posted all over the place.”

Friends? Mel felt
a bit surprised by this, for some reason viewing the photographer
as a brooding recluse. She wondered who the friends were and how
many lived with him. A girl friend, possibly, since Josh obviously
thought she might be last year’s rejected love interest.

While she wasn’t
pleased with the assumption that she was a discarded girlfriend, at
least it let her know that Taylor was probably under fifty and not
totally unappealing to look at. The idea perked up her spirits a
bit.

The woman had
abandoned her computer, now possibly thinking that a newcomer was
more interesting than whatever article she was writing. As she
approached the counter, Mel decided she was a perfect match for her
co-worker; both average height and weight with grey sprinkled
throughout their hair. She had the same friendly, inquiring smile
as the man did, too. “Who’s this, Josh?”

“Melody Greene.
She’s looking for young Taylor.”

“Ryne?” She
laughed softly, shaking her head. “You and how many others.”

“Pardon?” Mel
wasn’t quite sure what the woman meant. Were other people trying to
do research on him as well?