Chapter 15
It’s proof.”
Jake pointed at a blue velvet bag in the middle of the card table. “I just glanced at a couple, but it’s proof.”
Emily sank into the chair, legs shaking from the one-block walk. The bag was about the size of her spread hand and heavier than it appeared. Tiny tufts of blue velvet stuck to her fingertips.
“Be careful.”
The drawstring was already loosened. She slid her thumb and forefinger inside and pulled out a stack of letters. Yellowed, brittle, the same handwriting she’d seen on the others.
Jake pulled a chair next to hers and sat down. She unfolded the top one slowly, as if she were opening butterfly wings. She read the words out loud.
“Dearest, Autumn has always filled me with such joy. How God must delight in showering His canvas with color. But this autumn is bittersweet, for with every leaf that falls, I worry more about you. Papa says we will see few parcels when the threat of snow increases, but if there are deliveries, the danger will be so much greater. It is harder to hide without the cover of leaves. Oh, my love, I should not share my fears with you, should I? Though you never talk of it, you must be haunted by the possibility of danger lurking behind every tree as you hunt. Forgive me. What little faith I have tonight. If I had the time, I would write you only in the morning when sunlight makes everything seem safe and familiar.”
As she read, Jake leaned closer until his arm slid around the back of her chair. The words and his warmth did strange things to her voice. Setting the letter down, she simply stared at the feathery script. Love letters, hidden in the wall for a hundred and sixty years, probably never seen by the one for whom they were penned. “So beautiful.”
Jake leaned yet closer. “His replies are not quite so flowery.”
“His?” Her head jerked toward Jake’s. She found herself staring at his full lips. She blinked and turned away. With the care of a surgeon, she lifted the second folded paper. The one beneath it bore a strikingly different handwriting. Heavy, bold lines without the rounded, feminine curls.
Emily gasped. “Did he come back?” she whispered.
“What?”
“I found three letters. All from her.”
“When? Where?”
“Under the porch. The day we found the room.”
Grooves appeared between his eyebrows. Thick black lashes narrowed around crystal blue eyes.
Those eyes. Why had she never noticed them quite like this before? Why was she noticing now? Again, she turned away. “I should have told you. I just don’t want this place turning into a circus, you know? Before the work is done, I—”
“It’s your house. You didn’t have to tell me about it.”
Clearly he was striving for indifference, but the disappointment edging his voice stabbed between two ribs like a miniature dagger. “No. I should have.” She forced her eyes back to his. “You had a right to know. I’m sorry.”
His smile was slow in appearing, but when it showed, it deepened a divot on his right cheek she was sure hadn’t been there before and brought the luster back to his eyes.
“All’s forgiven.”
The table seemed to tip beneath her arms. Get a grip. She yanked her gaze back to the letter. “In the letters I found, he’d gone somewhere. She didn’t know if he was coming back for her, and she blamed herself. So were these written before or after? The others were written in November of 1852. Was it the same autumn?” She took a steadying breath. “My love …” Something more off-key than a frog distorted her voice.
“Allow me.” Jake’s fingers grazed hers as he took it from her. “My love.” He cleared his throat. “I have begun reading in the Book of Psalms every evening before I go out, as you suggested. This is the treasure I gleaned last night: ‘The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.’ Even when a full moon and barren trees allow few hiding places, I will be reminded that God alone is my refuge—and that you are my North Star.”
Emily laughed, instantly lowering the temperature in the room. “Not as flowery? And ‘you are my North Star’? Come on. Is that how you talk to women?”
“Of course. I’m shocked you’d even question it. I am a Renaissance man—the biceps of a contractor but the heart of a poet.” He set the letter down. His hand slid over hers. “Your eyes are the stars of the midnight sky. You are the fair princess Andromeda, chained to a rock. You should not be wearing such chains as these. Tell me your name, fair princess, and I—”
She jerked her hand from his. Her cheeks burned, her pulse thundered in her ears. She knew this story. The beautiful virgin, sacrificed to appease the god Neptune, saved by dashing young Perseus, the monster-slayer. Emily’s eyes burned. She was none of those things—beautiful, virgin, or able to be saved.
And now, by ruining what Jake had intended as a funny moment, she’d exposed too much. “You should be on stage.” She attempted a laugh. It fell flat.
Instead of the irritation she expected, his eyes softened. The hand that had covered hers lifted her chin. “What are your chains, Emily?”
Her tears had nowhere to go but down her face and into his hand. She slid her chair away from the table and stood. “There’s a box upstairs … with the other letters.” She stared at him, waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t asked, not bothering to wipe away the tears. He’d seen them before.
Jake, the would-be monster slayer, nodded. “I’ll put them away.”
Adam leaned on the counter, eating his ninth cookie and watching the second hand sweep the black face of his Iron Man watch. Jake wasn’t back yet.
“Give yourself plenty of time.” Grandma Blaze sealed two bags of cookies and stuck them in his backpack. Chocolate chip for him, snickerdoodles for Lexi.
“I will. And I have to have a few minutes to hang out by the bridge before Blimpo gets home.”
“Adam!”
She turned her back as she yelled at him. She probably thought it was funny, but she was too nice to say so. “I left two bowls of food for Pansy last night. One at home where Bl—he—can’t find it and one by the bridge where we saw her last. I checked that one on my way here, but that was kind of early for her. She’s used to getting fed after school, so maybe she’s found it now.” His voice was starting to sound weird. He didn’t want his grandmother thinking he was going to cry. Pansy wasn’t his cat.
“How’s Lex holding up?”
“You know how girls are. She sewed Pansy a new pillow. It’s purple and—” His voice crackled. Jake said that was normal for his age. “Hey, I gotta go. Thanks for the cookies.” He hugged his grandma then ran outside and smack into Emily. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Where’s the fire?” Her mouth kind of smiled, but her eyes were all red.
Whatever Jake had found, she wasn’t happy about it, or maybe she was just sad. Maybe they found out who Mariah was. Adam glanced at his bike. He was dying to know what it was, but if he took the time to ask, he’d have to forget about stopping at the bridge. And he had to find Pansy. He couldn’t handle too many more days of hearing Lexi cry at night. “Gotta get back before Blim—my stepfather figures something’s up.”
Emily stepped aside. “Ride safe.”
“Yeah. I will.”
The back roads were faster than the bike trail and he’d avoid going through town. He pedaled onto Highway D and strained to see Emily’s house. The trees were filling in and it was almost totally camouflaged from the road now, but he got a quick glimpse of Jake, hunched over with his head down.
He was in the middle of the bridge when it hit him. Jake and Emily liked each other! Sure, she’d been crying and he was slumped over like Eeyore on a really bad day, but that probably meant they liked each other a lot. Practically everybody in seventh grade was going out with somebody, and remembering who was with who was like watching a magician doing a ball and cup trick. He didn’t get it, but he’d learned enough to know that if a guy was mad and not talking to a girl and she was crying and saying bad things about him, they were probably in love.
Jake and Emily. Now that was cool. He let out a wild-cheetah yell. Lexi would absolutely freak. She’d probably start drawing the dress she wanted to wear for the wedding. Maybe it would help her forget about Pansy.
‘Cause he had a scary feeling the cat might not be coming back.
Pansy hadn’t touched her food. But he’d no sooner turned the corner than the orange cat appeared on the opposite side of the road, padding proudly, head held high, with a mouse in her mouth.
Relief hit so hard, it stung his eyes.
The next thing he saw was blue. Big and blue and waddling along the roadside like a gigantic Weeble. In Ben’s hand was Adam’s pellet gun.
Adam skidded to a stop, tossed his bike into the bushes, and hid. He had to do something. He patted his pants legs and an idea hit. He grabbed his mirror, shined it at the sun and angled the reflection onto the road about two yards in front of Pansy.
Look, you stupid cat!
Adam slunk deeper into the bushes and rested his arm on a branch. With just a slight twist of his wrist, he made the patch of light quiver on the gravel. Pansy slowed. Her head lowered. Her whole body crouched. The mouse dropped. Adam checked for cars then moved the light, inch by inch, into the street. Pansy followed.
Ben took aim.
“Keep moving.” Adam mouthed the command and dragged the light closer, faster. Just two yards to go. Still no cars from either direction. A miracle.
The air rifle pumped. The noise should have scared the cat, but she was mesmerized by the traveling, trembling light. One more yard and Adam would grab her, run for the bike, and—
“Pansy!” Lexi screamed from the house. The cat startled. The gun fired. Pansy shrieked. Her body lurched, landing within inches of Adam’s feet.
Oh God, please. Adam burst out of the bushes. Tears blurring his vision, he crouched. Lexi’s screams and Ben’s curses filled his ears. He laid one hand on the sun-warmed fur. “She’s breathing, Lex!”
Lexi slid in the gravel on the steep driveway and dashed into the road. A car horn blared, brakes squealed. She didn’t look up. Sobs shook her as she dove to the shoulder, landing hard on her knees. “Pansy. Wake up. Wake up, baby. I’m here. God, let her be okay.”
Amber eyes opened. A soft mew. A tiny pink tongue licked Lexi’s fingertip. Lexi laughed, but it still sounded like a sob. “She’s okay.”
Adam wasn’t so sure. The only thing he knew was they needed to get her far away from the cursing man with the air gun. “Try to pick her up. We gotta get out of here.”
Lexi nodded, running her hands over the orange fur. She gasped. Blood covered her fingers. “Her front leg. It’s broken.”
On the other side of the highway, Ben spat in the gravel. “Get away from the stupid cat or I’ll shoot you, too!” He added a string of hate-filled words.
“She might try to fight you.” Adam slipped his backpack off. “We’ll have to put her in here so we can both get on the bike. We’ll be halfway to Grandma’s before he makes it back up the driveway.”
Lexi’s face contorted as she slid her hands under Pansy. The cat moaned. “We’re going for a ride, sweetkins, just like always. We’ll take you to the doctor and he’ll fix you up and—” Pansy hissed. The claws on her good paw splayed and raked Lexi’s arm. Lexi flinched but didn’t pull away. “Come on, girl, I know it hurts, but we have to do this to make you better.” As she talked, Pansy settled like a wilting flower. Lexi eased her into the pack. “It won’t be long, baby, we’ll get you—”
The gun fired. A pellet grazed the gravel less than a yard behind Lexi’s feet. Lexi’s eyes shot wide.
“You two get away from that blasted cat or—”
“Madsen! Are you insane?” A screen door slammed. Herb Klein stomped out of the house next door. “I just called the police, and I hope they slam your stupid hide in jail. Of all the crazy … Adam? Lexi? You okay?”
“We’re fine. Pansy’s hurt. Could you call my uncle and tell him to come get us?”
“You bet. You two come over here until he gets here. Madsen, put the gun down or I’ll go get mine.”
The gun clattered to the sidewalk. “It’s just a stupid toy.”
“Tell that to the cat. And the cops.”
Finally. A witness. Jake stood with his arms around Adam and Lexi, staring at the broken butterfly clock and listening with quiet joy as Herb regaled the blue-uniformed officers with tales of Ben’s rages. He’d witnessed Ben smacking the cat onto the concrete and repeated numerous threats he’d heard through the screens in the past week.
“You guys know I’ve called before, and I know you can’t do much if all he’s doing is yelling, but I always said if that”—he stopped, clearly searching for a cleaned-up word—“if I ever saw him hurt a hair on either one of those kids I’d—”
“We appreciate your call, Mr. Klein.”
Ben played down every accusation. He spoke to the officers as if they were old drinking buddies. “You know what the pressure of single parenting is like. Sure, I lose it once in awhile.” He painted a picture of a poor, bereaved man doing his best to raise his late wife’s children to be upstanding citizens. “I wasn’t shooting to hit the cat. It’s my daughter’s pet, why would I want to hurt it? I was just putting a little fear into it. Not like I used a shotgun, you know. I shot it off just for the noise and the st—cat turned at the last second and got in the way. I’d never hurt a fly. Just ask my kids.”
The female officer nodded. “We will.”
Jake couldn’t read their faces. He had no idea if they were buying the story. He gave his address and phone number and said the social workers could pop in anytime. They’d find the kids happy and cared for.
Finally.
Maybe there wouldn’t even be a trial. Maybe the county would just step in and award the kids to him.
“Jake?” Lexi leaned into him. The tears that dampened his shirt were for the cat alone. “Can we take Pansy to the vet now?”
The female officer nodded. “No more questions for now.” She gave Lexi a maternal smile. “Hope Pansy’s good as new in a few days.” She looked up at Jake. “And I hope things go their way.”
The officer pointed to the front door. “Let’s go, Mr. Madsen.”