Wind Over Marshdale (30 page)

The clothing and hairstyles seemed to harken back to pre-World War Two. The woman was pretty and stylish, and looked to be in her early twenties. The man, however, who looked to be about forty, really caught Rachel's attention. He was, in almost every detail, an exact though slightly older, version of Con.

“I see you've noticed the resemblance,” Con said, glancing toward Rachel as he pulled the blinds.

“I see now why everyone keeps mentioning it.” Rachel glanced at Con and then back at the photo.

“What's that?” Minnie asked. Con had parked her beside her bed.

“Rachel was just looking at Grandpa's photograph,” Con informed her.

“Who's Rachel?” Minnie asked, squinting around the room.

“My friend. The one who came to visit you today,” Con replied with patience.

“Oh yes. The school teacher.”

“Yes, that's right. You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. I'm not senile,” Minnie replied. “What was her name again?”

“Rachel.” Con laughed and gave his grandmother a peck on the cheek. “You are priceless. I love you Grandma Minnie.”

“I'm one hundred, you know,” Minnie informed Rachel.

“I know. I think it's wonderful,” Rachel said, bending to give the elderly woman a hug. She was very small and frail, but when Rachel went to stand up, she was surprised at the strength of the tiny woman as she clung to her neck for a moment.

“You look after my grandson, now, girlie,” Minnie whispered loudly into Rachel's ear. “I think he's right taken with you.”

Rachel gave Minnie another squeeze before standing up. “I will,” she whispered back, much more softly. Her face felt flushed when she straightened, and she avoided Con's eyes.

“I'll be back to visit soon.”

“Such a fuss,” Minnie said. “Though I don't suppose it's every day that someone turns one hundred.”

“Now I'm going to lift you out of your chair and the nurse will be right in to check on you,” Con said. He lifted the fragile weight of his grandmother with gentle strength and laid her upon her bed. Then he tucked an afghan from the foot of the bed up around her chin.

“Never cared much for napping during the day,” Minnie said, even as she yawned widely. Con laughed and placed another kiss on her withered cheek. “You're the handsomest man in the world, my Chuck,” she sighed and closed her eyes.

****

“Shh! If we're going to do this, you guys have to be quiet,” Billy whispered sharply.

“Sorry,” Suzie offered.

“Ryder, you stand guard just around the corner there near her back door. If she does come out, you'll have the best reason for being in her yard. Say your cat got out or something.”

“I don't have a cat,” Ryder said. “Whisper's allergic.”

“Well, I still think you're the best one to watch the back door.”

Ryder nodded his assent.

“Suzie, you watch the street side,” Billy continued. “I'll see if I can find a way into the basement.”

Suzie frowned. “Why do I have to stand watch? I'm smaller. I could probably squeeze right in through the window.”

Billy considered that for a minute.

“She's right,” Ryder agreed.

“Okay. But be quiet,” Billy warned. “And be careful.”

The three teens crept along the fence at the outer edge of Mirna's property and then ducked in at the gate. Billy and Ryder took up their positions as Suzie crawled toward the house.

She worked her fingers in between the window casing and the foundation and was able to pull up the window slat without too much effort. She motioned for Billy to come and join her. He crouched as low as possible without crawling and knelt beside her. “What?” he mouthed.

“Hold it open while I crawl in,” Suzie whispered.

She was half way inside, her body dangling from the waist down when they heard a cackling laugh. Eyes wide, Suzie froze in position as they listened intently.

The sound was coming from the open window just above their heads.

“You and your dusty religion! When are you going to give up and admit that there's no real power in a dead prophet's blood?”

Another voice, similar but distinctly different replied, “Mirna, I have had just about enough of this charade. You know you don't fit in here in Marshdale. Why did you follow me here in the first place? You should go back to where you belong.”

“And how can I do that, dear sister? You've made sure of that, now haven't you?”

“I did what I had to do. You are evil—an abomination in the sight of the Lord! ”

Mirna laughed again, the same cackling that had alerted the teens in the first place. “Poor, poor Marni. Such a hypocrite! The very thing you loathe you have become. At least with me there is no pretending.”

“No! You will stop, now!”

Some scuffling noises ensued followed by glass breaking.

“Come on,” Billy hissed. Suzie hoisted herself up out of the narrow opening. The casing fell into place with a slap.

The group of pseudo detectives made a run for it, the Changs heading for the gate while Ryder jumped the fence into his own yard.

“Whoa! Slow down.” It was Ryder's father, just coming out of the house. “What's going on here?”

“Nothing,” Ryder said, coming to a halt.

“Oh, really?” Thomas asked. His expression was skeptical. He surveyed the group of teenagers. No one seemed to want to meet his gaze.

“Actually, sir, we were spying next door,” Billy finally admitted. His confession was greeted with groans of exasperation from his comrades.

“Is that so?”

“Yesterday Ryder and I thought we saw blood in her yard and she was digging in her basement,” Suzie explained. “And then today—”

“Hold it.” Thomas stopped her with an upheld hand. “What were you two doing in Miss Hyde's yard in the first place? Ryder?” He looked directly at his son.

“We thought maybe she was hiding a body in her basement and we thought we should check it out,” Ryder admitted, looking down at his feet.

“A body!”

“Yeah, kind of dumb, sir, I know,” Billy interjected. “As the oldest, I guess I should have known better. I mean, Mirna Hyde is kind of strange, but I don't think she's a murderer.”

“Especially since we heard both of them talking just now,” Ryder noted.

“Who?” Thomas asked.

“Both of the Miss Hydes,” Suzie said. “Although, they were arguing just now. And there was a crashing noise. What if Mirna just did something nasty to her sister?”

“Okay, stop right there. I think you're letting your imaginations run away with you again. We may not agree with what Mirna Hyde stands for, but she still has the right to privacy. If I ever catch any one of you snooping around her place again, I'll… well, I'm not sure what I'll do, but it won't be pretty!”

“Sorry,” each one mumbled. Just then, their attention was drawn to Mirna's back door. Her sister, Marni, was just leaving. Her haughty gaze swept over the group congregated in the next yard before she strutted purposefully down the sidewalk and out the gate.

“There, you see? She looks perfectly normal, wouldn't you say?” Thomas stated.

“As normal as possible for her,” Ryder said under his breath.

Thomas tried to hide the smile he felt playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay. Enough detective work for one day. You three better find something else to occupy your time before I put you to work.”

“Come on. Let's go to my house,” Billy suggested. “I got a new game controller so we can play doubles.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” Suzie asked.

Billy shrugged. “I don't know. You'll figure something out.” Thomas watched them walk away, the boys jostling one another occasionally in typical teenage boy fashion. He'd made light of their suspicions because he didn't want to encourage them, but he'd heard strange noises coming from next door himself. Chanting, mumbling, singing… Those Hyde sisters were up to something. But exactly what kind of power source was behind it? The last thing he wanted was for his son to become curious. His own curiosity had been sparked and he'd stepped over the line already and wasn't quite sure how to find his way back.

What was really going on inside him? Yes, he loved God; had committed his life to Him. But there was truth to Mirna's words, too. The ancient pull of the medicine was strong.

And what had the Christians in this town done for him or his family since they had arrived? Sure, Conrad McKinley was sincere. But the rest of them—even the pastor—had not been overly supportive.

He was the great-grandson of a medicine man. The last great healer to pass down the knowledge that had kept their people alive for generations. Until the whites took it all away. He deserved respect. Instead he and his family were shunned.

Someday they would be forced to understand the significance of his people—his own flesh and blood—cand acknowledge the important connection they had to this land. He would be vindicated.

An involuntary shudder ran down his spine like icy fingers. Yes, the medicine was strong. It would be so very easy to succumb to its beckoning hand. To just give in to the mounting pressure he felt deep within. How much longer he could hold out on his own, however, was uncertain.

****

“I like your grandmother. She's sweet,” Rachel said. They were in Con's truck traveling home from the party.

“That she is.”

“I have trouble reconciling some of the stories I've heard now that I've met her.”

“Mrs. Beatry talks too much,” was all Con said, rather gruffly.

“Now that's a fact.”

“She forgets that Grandma Minnie is a changed woman,” Con continued. “She's made her peace with God. Something Mrs. Beatry would be wise to do, I think.”

Rachel surveyed Con closely out of the corner of her eye. “Wow. What's gotten into you all of a sudden? You sound awfully irritable. I thought we had a really nice afternoon.”

Con sighed. “Sorry. We did. Just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Anything you want to share?”

“Nope.” He flashed a quick smile, hoping it would be enough to turn the tide of the conversation.

He couldn't tell her that she was crowding his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Dreaming about her. That he'd gone against his own better judgment and the advice of people he trusted and now he didn't know how he would be able to turn the clock back a second time and pretend it didn't happen.

“Well, now that I've met all your people, maybe it's time you met mine,” Rachel said.

Con's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I thought your folks were back in Ontario?”

“They are, silly,” Rachel giggled. “Not those people. “I meant my friends Sherri and Dan. The ones who convinced me to move out here in the first place.”

“Oh, those people.”

“Yeah. I was thinking we could go into Regina and do some Christmas shopping.”

Con frowned. “Is it that time of year already?”

“You don't like Christmas?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, sure, but it just seems the season starts a bit early.”

“We don't have to.”

“No, I'd love to.” Con reached for Rachel's hand. “If you want to then I want to.”

They had just pulled up in front of Rachel's residence. He put the truck in park and leaned over for a kiss.

“You're not walking me to my door tonight?”

“Yeah, but I want two kisses.” He grinned. “One here and one there.”

“Mrs. Beatry might see,” Rachel hedged. “I better get going.”

Con smiled. “I don't care about Mrs. Beatry.” He grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and kissed her until they were both breathless. “There. Now she'll have something to talk about.” He unbuckled his belt and met her on the other side of the truck. “And now for round two.” He grinned wickedly, escorting her up the sidewalk.

Their lengthy farewell at the door did anything but satisfy. Each awakening level of excitement only begged for more. Con knew he was getting in deeper and deeper with little chance of backtracking now. On the drive home he thought about his next course of action. Somehow he needed to get her into the doors of a church so she could see things his way and then everything would be all right. Somehow he knew his problems wouldn't be solved that easily.

 

Thomas stepped back and surveyed their handiwork. He and Con McKinley had just finished installing the new picture window. Sunshine was literally pouring in, making the trailer's rather dingy and outdated interior actually seem cheerful and inviting. He'd almost gotten used to the gloom, but now he could feel his own spirits rising to match the brightness of the room.

“Wow. What a difference,” Con commented.

Thomas nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing. Thanks man.”

“No problem.”

“You ready for a beer?” Thomas asked. “You deserve it.”

Con shook his head. “I save those for hot days. I don't drink much anyway, but I don't mind a beer on a hot day, or a glass of wine with dinner. Other than that, no. Alcohol causes way too much trouble.”

Thomas grunted his agreement. Didn't he know it?

Con looked at his watch. “Besides, I'm meeting someone right away. She'll be off work soon.”

“She?” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

“It's kind of a new thing,” Con replied, suddenly very interested in some dirt under his nails. He actually looked embarrassed, something Thomas hadn't seen before. “I mean we sort of dated a few times earlier this fall, but we just recently got back together.”

“Love's a great thing when you find the right one,” Thomas said.

“I'll say. I'm trying not to act like a goofball, but it's pretty much all I think about these days.”

“Sounds like it's the real thing, then.” Thomas laughed.

“What about you?” Con asked. “Have you thought about dating again? Since your wife died?”

Thomas considered it for a moment. “Not until recently. Mourning takes a lot of out you,” he admitted. “I did meet someone. Someone here in Marshdale, in fact, but it didn't work out. She was sending a lot of mixed messages.”

“That's too bad. Well, I'm sure when the time is right, God will send the right one your way.”

“He already did that once. I'm not sure you get two shots at it.” Thomas cleared his throat, surprised by how emotional he suddenly felt. He stooped to pick up his tool belt.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to stir up painful memories.”

“Never mind. I've just been under a lot of stress lately.”

“I heard about how the town rejected your first proposal,” Con said. “How are things moving in that department, anyway?”

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “Red tape and white bureaucracy.” He caught the slight stiffening of Con's spine and continued. “I didn't mean for that to sound racist. It's just the truth.”

Con shrugged. “You're probably right. Did you ever get a chance to get out to the site to pray? I'm really sorry that I didn't join you like I said I would.” He laughed self-consciously. “I was actually meeting with the girl I was telling you about that day. Not too spiritual, I know, but at the time, she seemed more appealing.”

“Oh that.” Thomas waved a dismissive hand. “I think I was obsessed with all the crazy dreams I was having back then. I might still do it, though. One of these days. But it's kind of cold out now. I'll wait till spring.”

“I don't know,” Con sounded skeptical. “You were pretty certain it was from God when you first told me about it. You don't want to take that too lightly. If He wants you to do something and you don't do it, you won't have any peace.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. I'll call you for sure when I'm ready.” Thomas looked at his own watch, hoping that the other man would take the hint. “Kids'll be home from school soon.” He'd had enough of this conversation.

“Well, I guess I better get going,” Con said. “I don't want to be late. Make sure you call.”

“Thanks again.” Thomas waved as he saw Con to the door. He went back to the large, clean window and watched Con as he drove away. Con was somewhat overzealous, but he was probably right. He should pray. Take back what Satan stole from his people. Like land, respect, power.

Thomas turned and headed to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and shuffled a few items around until he could reach the unmarked cardboard box. Inside was a small stash of his old brand of beer. He pulled one out, cracked the lid, put the bottle to his lips and tipped his head back. He needed to finish it before the kids got home. With alcoholism rampant in his own immediate family, he never let them see him with even as much as a beer.