The Puzzle (8 page)

I tried to relax. Surely I was safe now. Or was I? One thing was clear: I had escaped from my house. Did I make the right choice? Did I have a choice? I really didn’t know much about Clay at all. Who was he? But by that point, I didn’t care. I was too exhausted at that moment to be fearful, and welcomed the warmth as I began to feel my fingers and toes gradually warm up.

Clay returned shortly and sat in the chair opposite me next to the fire. “So, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me what happened tonight. How did things get so out of control, Samantha?”

I explained, but I left out the phone episode and my mysterious caller. By the time I was finished, I was totally drained. We talked for more than an hour, while I described all the problems I had at the beginning when I first arrived. We laughed together, as he began sharing his tales of trying to fix up the house. He claimed he was still learning on the job and not in much of a hurry. To my surprise, our conversation flowed easily, and gradually I began to unwind. After a while, he left and returned with some wine for the both of us, handing me a filled glass.

“Go ahead, you look like you could use one,” he said, sitting once again and sipping from his glass. “Why did you wait so long to use your phone?”

“Because I didn’t think the situation would get so out of control like it did, and when things turned from bad to worse, it was too late. The phone lines were already dead.”

“You know it could have turned out a lot worse if I hadn’t hiked up there. After your earlier brush off, I almost didn’t attempt it. You are so lucky I don’t hold grudges for very long.” He gave a chuckle and sipped his wine.

I grinned. “I shouldn’t have taken my problems out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He smiled and leaned forward. “I am not going to bite, Samantha. So, tell me. Why are you wound up so tight? Can I help somehow?”

The wine had done its magic and I thought I would trust him up to a point, but no mentioning of the notes and phone calls, or what my exact plan was. So, I told my story; an abbreviated version of Stephen’s demise, explaining I needed to get away from our house after Stephen’s death. What better place than here with a fresh start in a new home and quiet town? I stared at Clay
.

Maybe he would be useful.

We spoke over one more glass of wine. Then I started to show signs of fatigue.

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” said Clay. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have electricity by morning, and I can take you back to your place. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” I replied, struggling to stifle another yawn.

He gathered up the glasses and brought me back a pillow and more blankets, and then settled himself up on the floor in front of the fire with a pillow and blanket for himself. I turned to him. He had his back to me and was lying facing the fire.

After a few minutes of gathering some courage, I ventured, “Clay? I just want to thank you again for rescuing me. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. I guess I was just venting my anger and frustration, and you were the closest target.”

There was no response, just the rhythmic sound of his breathing. He had fallen asleep. Oh well, I would just have to tell him in the morning
.

What could happen between now
and morning?

No, I wasn’t going there. I was not to tempting fate. And in no time, fell asleep myself.

Chapter 13

What A Difference A Day Made

How could two days be so different from each other? It was bright and sunny when I woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling on an old iron stove.

“Good morning,” Clay greeted. “How’s your ankle? Better?”

Refreshed after a much needed night’s rest, I smiled. “Much better, thanks.” I sat up, noticing a table set for breakfast, at a window overlooking a vast field and woods with the mountains just beyond.

“Wow,” was all I could verbally muster.

“I know, pretty nice, huh? When I came back home, I was hooked by those views the minute I set foot on the property. By the way, the warm weather has returned. Whatever hit the area, moved on, taking the frigid air with it. You should be fine up at your place.”

“That’s a relief. That traumatic evening was one for the books. It sure convinced me I’d better be prepared in the future. I was totally caught off guard. I certainly can’t afford to be so vulnerable like that again.”

He glanced up at me. Was that an expression of disappointment? Why, if I didn’t know better, I might have speculated he had enjoyed playing the hero the night before. I quickly turned away, concealing my amusement, and then turned back. There he was, chopping tomatoes and dicing onions, grabbing ingredients left and right and cooking like a pro, adding herbs and spices to potatoes also cooking in another skillet.
He cooks?

He caught me staring at him and the tempting feast he was preparing. “Hungry?” he asked as he cracked open some eggs.

“I have to confess, I’m starving.”

“Good. By the way, electricity is back on. We have hot water too. Why don’t you freshen up down the hall? I’ll be ready with our breakfast by the time you’re finished. Sound good?”

“If that aroma is any indication of the taste, I won’t be long.”

We spent a leisurely hour over breakfast, talking and enjoying the food. I found him charming and engaging. Something new had been thrown into the mix. I hadn’t expected to encounter a possible ally in all of this mess. Possible, though, was about as far as I was able to commit at the moment, because he, too, was still a mystery that I needed to solve.

Why did he choose me, of all people, to rescue? I couldn’t have been the only one stranded in the area. Why hadn’t I seen him in town in the last several months, and why was I encountering him now? As much as I was enjoying our conversation, I had priorities and really needed to get back home to try to take the time to figure it all out before I got in any deeper.

In due course, I broached the subject of my return home.

“I really should be getting back to try and clean up my house. I need to make a couple of phone calls. This time around, though, I would definitely appreciate a ride back.”

It had been an enjoyable morning, but life went on, and mine in particular was calling me to take care of a lot of lingering unfinished business. Before long, I found myself saying goodbye, then reluctantly securing my front door behind me, as another memorable episode of my life drove off on my no-longer-icy driveway.

I considered what an interesting addition to my book he’d be, and wondered exactly who and what he might know? I started straightening up the mess inside, but didn’t get very far. I had to get to my computer and add a few interesting side notes of my personal observations from that morning and the night before.

Chapter 14

Friend Or Foe?

Our conversation the night before had progressed slowly and a little awkwardly at first, but eventually we found some common ground in the fact that both of us were starting over. I had actually enjoyed myself, more than I had in a long time. Still I couldn’t let that lull me into forgetting about being watchful and cautious.

On the surface, after this last encounter, Clay seemed harmless enough, but what did I really know about him? Okay, so he saved me from freezing to death. But could that be because I was more useful to him alive than dead? How could I be sure he wasn’t the one writing those creepy letters?

Naturally, I was curious about his background. He’d said last night that he inherited his place from his aunt. She raised him from a young age after his parents perished in a plane crash. He was living and working in the city when she passed, so he hadn’t seen her for quite a while. He admitted his visits dwindled somewhat over the years because he was caught up in a heavy workload and time-consuming travel demands. No excuse, he commented, just thoughtless and now regrettable. I appreciated his honesty, and he certainly seemed sincere.

He claimed he was thunderstruck by the condition of her house when he rushed back for her funeral, and shocked by how run-down the property appeared. It was only then he realized the actual amount of time that had elapsed since his last visit. He had thought the phone calls were sufficient because she never complained or asked for anything. She loved hearing from him, so his conscience dealt with a misguided impression of how he thought things were. When he finally returned home, too late, he was forced to confront the convenience of his ignorance.

For many years, I had dealt with my own misguided impression of how I thought things were. It was too convenient to ignore Stephen’s obsessive behavior and last night I had let his influence slip away for a while. I began to feel hopeful for something more, and was pleasantly surprised by our enjoyable interaction. Even so, since Stephen passed away — correction, since Stephen was murdered, an underlying wariness pierced all my thoughts and conversations. I couldn’t forget that, no matter where I was or to whom I spoke. So at this point, I had to treat Clay no differently from the others.

Clay did reveal something interesting: He owned one of the bookstores in town. I never saw him in there, only other employees, though I was probably not paying close attention. Not that I had dropped in much, maybe a few times. Who would have thought he had such interests? He certainly didn’t seem like the bookstore type. Nevertheless, my suspicious nature automatically kicked in. Was he being truthful about his past?

I could easily check that out and the bookstore ownership. There was just something out of character niggling at the back of my mind. I was thinking with a clear mind by morning, and not through the fog of wine. Even though I felt comfortable with him, could he really be trusted? What else might I find out about him? How long has he been living here? I didn’t recollect him offering that tidbit of information. It had to be in the last few months, at least that’s what I assumed after seeing the condition of the outside of his house on my hike. Did he buy the bookstore or inherit it from his aunt? What a convenient way to work himself into town life, maybe too convenient. I thought I would talk to Jack and ask him if he knew Clay.

What was I thinking? Jack seemed to know everyone well. If that were true, then maybe I would learn a thing or two. Nevertheless, I felt there was something I was missing and it was right there in front of me. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it yet. I was still feeling my way through this, but quickly learning to let my intuition guide me. It might be interesting to see if I could push a few boundaries of my own.

Suspicion still lingered on the edge as I cracked a smile. Funny, now that I thought it over, Clay never did mention what city he had been working in and what his former employment was. That was my fault; too much wine and too tired to think straight.

He conveniently smoothed right over those two small details, didn’t he?

Chapter 15

Rules Were Made To Be Broken

I wasn’t about to follow what was expected of me, because those parameters kept changing on a daily basis. I was having a hard time keeping up with them anyway. Mistakenly, I had felt so sure of my life, only to have that false sense of security pulled right out from under me.

I was so far off the mark with Stephen, assuming there was always trust between us. Thinking back now, I wondered why I didn’t start asking questions long before. Where did he go on those business trips? Who were his friends–so many of whom he refused to introduce me to?

I was so convinced I had Clay figured out, but once again, I might be mistaken. Should I believe him? Could I count on him? Did he also have a personal agenda? No matter what happened, I had to maintain an objective balance.

At the same time, I was developing a certain level of trust with Jack and Martha. Could I eventually add Clay to that list? I had always been mundane and predictable. Even Stephen had accused me of that on occasion. But no longer, Now, I was fueled by confidence and anger. I felt I had to make decisions and take risks I never would have considered previously, not just to find out the truth about Stephen, but quite possibly to save myself as well.

For the first time, I felt compelled to look at my life in a whole different way. I no longer needed or wanted anyone ever again to make a personal decision regarding my future or telling me how I should live my life. For the time being, I would walk my own path and be true to myself. I would make my own mistakes.

I knew there were no rules to take me through this emotional minefield I was traveling on. But it didn’t matter, for according to the new Book of Samantha
rules were made to be broken.