Читать книгу The House on Creek Road - Caron Todd, Caron Todd - Страница 8

LIZ BUMPED HER HEAD on the sloping ceiling over the bed when she sat up. It made her think of her grandfather, solemnly checking every door frame, table and chair she’d bumped into as a child and assuring her it was undamaged. Even if her eyes were full of tears from the collision, she couldn’t help laughing at his concern for those sharp edges. Couldn’t help being just a little bit mad, either.

At night, when she’d made a quick trip down the hall to the bathroom, the bare floor had been icy cold. Now there was a warm path where pale sunlight streamed in. Liz followed it to the window, then stood back from the draft of cool air seeping through the glass.

The yard was huge, reaching to the poplar woods at the back, and to the garden and hip roof barn at one side. Her grandfather’s small orchard, hardy crab apple, plum and cherry trees, grew at one end of the garden, and her grandmother’s raspberry patch at the other. Her arms stung just looking at it. She and Susannah used to wade right in to find the ripest berries. They didn’t notice all the long red scratches on their skin until they were done. Tiny green worms wriggling inside the berries didn’t bother them, either.

Maybe in a day or two the Twilight Zone feeling would wear off, and she could look outside without seeing twenty different scenes at once, her life passing before her eyes. In little pantomimes all over the yard she saw herself playing with her cousins and her brother. Had they spent any time at their own houses, or were they always here, rolling in this grass, climbing these trees, raiding this garden?

Their swing still hung from the oak tree. Strange to see it empty. Someone had always been on it, leaning way back with arms stretched and legs pumping, trying to go high enough to look at the world through the tree’s lower branches. Once, they’d all tried to fit on at the same time—they’d made it to seven, with Liz and Susannah and Tom dangling from the ropes, before someone’s mother had called that they’d break the tree if they didn’t watch out. They were always tanned and laughing…at least it seemed that way. Untouchable.

It was going to be a ghost-filled visit. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. She might manage to scare a few of them away. How, she had no idea. Threaten to draw them? Or ignore them, like bullies? That would be best. Ignore them, and keep her mind on why she was here—to help her grandmother and to say her goodbyes to the old house. Then she’d go back to Vancouver and stay there. Back home.

She hurried into a pair of jeans and a sand-colored sweatshirt, then made her way downstairs, holding the banister as she went. Very little light turned the corner from the living room windows. She could hardly see where to put her feet. It was a dangerous staircase for her grandmother, narrow and steep, and a dark house for her to live in alone all these years. Liz had to think and count…nine years.

Eleanor was in the kitchen, leaning over a steaming waffle iron. “Good morning, Elizabeth! I put the kettle on when I heard the floor squeak. It won’t be a minute.”

“Great, I could do with a cup. Don’t tell me you’re making waffles.”

“How could your first morning home go by without them?”

Liz hovered, wondering if she should offer to help. She had tried to make waffles once and had ended up yelling at the supposedly nonstick pan and going out for breakfast. When the kettle whistled, she hurried to the stove and poured the boiling water over tea bags waiting in a warmed Brown Betty, glad of something useful to do. The dogs looked at her with mild interest, but didn’t move out of her way or wag their tails.

She pulled a tea cosy over the pot. “This is pretty. Is it new?” It was leaf green, with a pattern of pink geraniums. There wasn’t a single tea stain on it.

“Isn’t it nice? Jack saw it at a craft sale and thought of me.”

“He goes to craft sales?”

“It was in Pine Point. He wants to experience every aspect of country life.”

“I hope you told him farmers don’t go to craft sales unless women drag them.”

Eleanor looked amused. “I doubt I could influence him. Besides, he likes to support work that’s done locally.”

Liz felt an uncomfortable twist of distrust. Jack McKinnon seemed to be going out of his way to please her grandmother. “He’s awfully friendly.”

“For a stranger, you mean?” Eleanor poured more batter on the grill and closed the lid.

“I suppose that’s what I mean.”

“He’s not a stranger to me, Elizabeth.”

Liz wandered back to her grandmother’s side. She hoped she hadn’t sounded too small-minded. “It’s no wonder he thought of you when he saw the cosy. You’ve always got geranium cuttings on the windowsills.” She leaned closer and breathed in the aroma of toasted vanilla. “What’s the plan for today, Grandma?”

“We’ll start with the furniture, I think. It’s a three-room apartment, so I can’t take much with me. The dining room suite is my main concern.” Since her marriage just before the Second World War, Eleanor had been caretaker of a black walnut table that came with sixteen chairs and a matching sideboard. Liz’s great-great-grandparents had brought it with them from Ontario in 1883. “Your brother is willing to take it, but Pamela is reluctant. She prefers a modern style. Smaller scale, lighter wood. She asked Thomas if they could strip and bleach it…”

“Oh, no.”

“I’m not sure what to do. There’s general agreement that it would be a pity to sell it, but that it’s too big and too dark for anyone to take.”

“We can’t sell it.” Every family occasion had involved gathering around that table. “Remember how we used to go from house to house at Christmas? Aunt Edith’s for Christmas Eve, here for dinner on Christmas Day, our house for games and turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day. This was the only place big enough for everyone.”

Eleanor lifted the lid of the waffle-maker. Two fragrant circles fell away from the grill. “The children never need to sit at a card table in another room. I like that. I like babies at the table.”

“I don’t remember babies—”

“You were one of them. And you missed the next batch.”

“I just remember Emily being smaller than the rest of us. Not quite a baby, though. A toddler.” Emily was born a few years after Liz and Susannah, the only child of Eleanor’s only daughter, Julia. She had shadowed her older cousins as soon as she could move fast enough to keep up. Now, she was a teaching assistant at the elementary school, dividing her day between the kindergarten room and the library. She still lived with her mother, about a mile down the road from Eleanor’s house. “This barbecue tonight, Grandma. Do we have to go?”

“What a question.” Eleanor looked startled and not at all pleased. “It’s in your honor. Your aunt has gone to a lot of trouble.” Using a tea towel, she pulled a plate of waffles from the warming oven and added the two she’d just made to the pile. The stack had fallen over, forming a large, rounded mound, enough to feed them all week. “Would you get the syrup? There’s raspberry preserves, too.”

Liz rummaged in the fridge. Of course she couldn’t avoid the barbecue. It was a few hours with family and friends. She’d be glad to see everyone. She’d fill a plate and mingle and then, if necessary, plead jet lag, or burn herself on the grill, and they’d understand why she had to leave early.

“The syrup’s right there, Elizabeth, by the milk. Don’t let all the cold air out.”

The syrup appeared in front of Liz, beside a carton of whole milk she hadn’t noticed, either. Wasn’t whole milk extinct? Everything inside the fridge had a foreign look to it, now that she thought about it. Three dozen eggs, real butter, whipping cream. Had the news about cholesterol not reached Three Creeks?

As she set the syrup and preserves on the table, heavy footsteps sounded on the veranda. The dogs lifted their heads, but they didn’t budge from their spot by the stove. After a token knock, the kitchen door pushed open, and Liz’s brother looked into the room. He grinned when he saw her. “Hey, kiddo. How ya doin’?”

Liz wanted to throw her arms around him, but something held her back. She made herself busy carrying the teapot to the table. “I hoped I’d see you today.”

“Got you working hard already, has she, Grandma? Waffles—she’s got no shame. It’s from living in the city. They get used to being pampered.”

“Join us, Thomas. We’ve got plenty.” Eleanor was already setting another place.

“I suppose a little more breakfast won’t hurt me.” If anyone could tolerate two breakfasts, it was Tom. Since their parents had retired and sold him their land a few years before, he’d been farming a thousand acres and raising a hundred head of cattle. Any spare time was spent playing with his three children.

He reached for the serving plate before he was in his chair. He helped himself, then pushed it closer to his sister. “So, Lizzie, what’s the penalty for bashing up a rental car?”

She hardly noticed slipping into the bantering tone they used with each other most of the time. “You bashed up my rental car? That’ll cost you.”

“What’d you do, hit a deer?”

“I hit a rock, avoiding a deer.”

“That was careless. I could have fed my family all winter.”

From across the room Eleanor said, “Your sister had quite a scare.”

Tom’s chastened expression gave Liz’s heart a twinge. He looked about eight years old. “You’re all right, though?”

“I’m fine. Just a little more aware how nice it is to be breathing.” Even now, thinking about her near miss made her queasy. She cut one of the waffles down the middle and put half on her plate. Slowly she poured on syrup, giving as much attention to filling the little squares as she had when she was a child. “How are my nieces and my nephew?”

“Let’s see.” Tom’s face brightened just thinking about his children, but he spoke in an offhand tone. “Jennifer’s had her ears pierced, Will says it’s not fair. Anne has joined Brownies, Will says it’s not fair. Will’s going to play hockey this season, Jennifer says it’s not fair. We’ve made a rule they all have to do an hour of chores on Saturdays before they play and they all agree it’s not fair—”

“Pretty much business as usual, then.”

“But more so. Pam’s bursting to see you. She says she’ll be around to help with the sorting and packing when work allows.” Tom’s wife taught grade five at the local school. Half the teachers there were at least distantly related to the Robbs. “I suppose you’ll still be in the house for part of the winter, Grandma? Need some firewood?”

“Thank you, but I’m all set. Jack brought me a good load last week. It should be enough with what I have left from last year.”

Tom’s cheerful mood was gone, just like that. “What’s Jack McKinnon doing bringing you wood? I’ve always brought you wood.”

“You’ve been so good about it, but look at all you have to do.”

“Bringing you firewood has never been a problem—”

Bella and Dora stopped scrutinizing each forkful traveling from Liz’s plate to her mouth and ambled to the door, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. More company? Liz hadn’t even washed before coming downstairs. There was a light tapping on the door, and then Emily stepped into the kitchen, beaming. Liz’s chair scraped back, and she hurried to her cousin, reaching for a hug.

“You finally, finally came home!” Emily said. “How long can you stay?”

“A week. Maybe two.”

“Not longer?”

Eleanor brought another plate from the cupboard. “I’m sure it will be two. We need at least that much time to get the work done. We’re starting with the furniture today, Emily, if you’re interested. Thomas, would you pour your cousin some tea?”

“Thanks, Grandma.” The dogs followed Emily to her chair. “No, Bella, no matter what you might think, and no matter what happened last time, I’m not going to give you my breakfast. Is that your car in the driveway, Liz, with the big dent? Don’t tell me you hit a deer.”

“She tried her best,” Tom said, “but all she got was a rock. There’s not much point hitting a rock.”

“I swerved to avoid a car and the deer came out of nowhere. You’d think it had transported in—”

“Transported?” Eleanor didn’t watch much television.

“Like in a sci-fi program,” Liz explained. “Beamed from one spot to another…the idea is, they break you down into atoms and reassemble you at your destination.”

Eleanor grimaced. “I don’t think I’d like that. Although I wouldn’t mind a shorter trip to Winnipeg, especially in the winter—and I suppose you could drop in and out of here more often, Elizabeth.”

“And we all could have made it to Susannah’s wedding,” Tom added.

“Oh, could you believe she did that?” Emily asked. “Marry a guy like Alexander Blake in the middle of the badlands when we’d stopped thinking she’d ever get married at all, and not wait for me? I’m afraid my telegram turned into a bit of a lecture—”

This time there was no knock, and no warning from the dogs. Susannah’s father stepped into the house as if he owned it. He was tall and tanned, with graying hair cut very short. A pale band of skin just below his hairline showed where his cap usually sat, pulled down low to shade his eyes.

“There she is!” He took Liz’s face between two large hands and kissed the top of her head loudly. “Looking like a million bucks, as usual. Got all your dad’s beauty and your mother’s brains.”

Liz smiled. It was a long-time claim. “Hi, Uncle Will.”

“And Emily. Look at the two of you. All we’re missing is Susannah. Shove over, Tom.” Will squeezed into a chair next to his nephew. “Got some coffee, Mom?”

Eleanor set a jar of instant on the table. “I bought a special kind for Elizabeth.”

“Hazelnut Heaven? Sounds like a lady’s drink to me…I suppose I’ll still get my caffeine, though, won’t I?” Will smiled at Liz. “Quite a dent on that little Cavalier out there. Brand-new car, too. Reminds me of when you were learning to drive. I kept telling you to aim for the road— Oh, well, why change now?” He stirred a heaping spoon of coffee crystals into a mug of hot water his mother placed in front of him, then flinched when the smell of hazelnuts hit his nostrils. “Did you get the extra insurance?”

Liz nodded. She’d checked the rental agreement before bed.

“Always get the insurance. Otherwise, something goes wrong, you’re on the hook for the whole thing. I’ll take the car back for you—” He raised one hand to stop Liz’s protest. “I’m going into the city on Saturday anyway. I’ll settle everything, take the bus back. They won’t give me any trouble.”

“Uncle Will—”

Tom spoke under cover of their uncle’s confident voice. “Give up, Liz.”

“I’ll need a car—”

“You can use Grandma’s. It’s old, but it’s in good shape.”

“We’re all set then,” Will said with satisfaction. “So, angel, here’s the thing. Your aunt wants you to stay with us for a while. How about it? You can use Sue’s old room and keep us company.”

“I’ve come to help Grandma, Uncle Will.”

“How about over Christmas? I’m sure Sue’ll be finished at her quarry by then. Of course, it won’t be quite the same, will it? She’ll have Alex with her.” He frowned into his cup. “The way they got married, in such a hurry, with no family— It’s been tough on your aunt. She saved a picture of the perfect wedding cake from some magazine twenty-odd years ago and she was heartbroken not to have the chance to make it.”

Tom spooned a big dollop of raspberry preserves on a second waffle. “If they’d waited one measly day we could have got to Alberta in time. Would one day have made such a difference?”

“That’s what I said,” Will agreed.

Liz tried to defend her cousin, although she’d been disappointed to miss the wedding, too. “There aren’t all that many flights to the Gobi Desert.”

“Trust you to be in favor of a rushed marriage, Liz. What is it with you and eloping, anyway—” Tom broke off when Eleanor made a warning sound. With a guilty glance at his grandmother, he apologized.

Liz forced a smile. “That’s okay. I did elope. It’s no secret.”

“And everybody was very happy for you,” Will declared, “no matter what they said at the time.”

Emily jumped up. “Let’s get the dishes cleared away, Liz. Then we’ll take a look at the furniture. My mother’s hoping for that cabinet radio, Grandma.”

Eleanor tapped the table. “Settle down and enjoy your breakfast, Emily. Your cousin isn’t a child with a short attention span. You can’t distract her that easily. And you, Elizabeth, I’m sorry to say it, but you bring it on yourself. If you’d transport in here more often, people would be done commenting on that episode of your life.”

Episode. Liz smiled weakly. It was beginning to look as if two weeks would be more than she could handle. At this point, two days was in question.

JACK SCOOPED SOIL INTO a specimen jar and twisted the lid tight. Eleanor’s field looked promising. Coming through the woods he’d noticed a few small conifers growing in the shade of the poplars…if nature was already beginning to diversify the deciduous forest, it just might be willing to accept a push from him. He should know for sure in a week or two. So far it had never taken longer than that for the provincial lab to fax the test results.

He yawned and stretched. He’d been awake most of the night, his mind ricocheting between Reid, who had somehow found a way into his house, and the granddaughter with the spicy hair. Cinnamon, with darker strands, like cloves. She smelled like Christmas. She shouldn’t. People who refused to visit their grandmothers for as long as she had should smell like Scrooge—all dust and cigars.

In the middle of the field he used a trowel to dig a small hole so he could get another sample from deeper down, where the trees’ roots would be looking for nourishment. He was hoping for a slightly acidic soil, the kind white spruce and balsam firs preferred. Balsams were a safe bet to grow. They were always popular because of their thick growth and festive smell and because they hung on to their needles longer than some trees. The more sparsely branched spruce he liked for old times’ sake. It was the kind he and his uncle had always decorated.

When he straightened from collecting the second sample he noticed a figure coming across the field. A female figure. Tall and slender, with light curly hair tousled by the breeze. Elizabeth Robb. She was heading right for him. Striding toward him, in fact. Barely arrived after an absence of fifteen years, Eleanor’s granddaughter had spotted a trespasser, and she wanted to do something about it. Jack waited, surprised how glad he was to see her.

She stopped a couple of yards away. Even at that distance he was sure he caught a whiff of cinnamon. Maybe she wore cinnamon perfume. Was there such a thing? If there wasn’t, his nose was hallucinating.

After a guarded greeting, she said, “I didn’t expect to see anyone way out here.”

“There never is anybody.” Usually he could walk for half the day without seeing a single person. It was one of the things he liked about country living.

She had noticed the specimen jars nearly hidden in his hand. “I was thinking about you this morning, wondering if everything was all right when you got home last night.”

“Because of the car? Everything was fine. It must have been someone turning around in my driveway. I wondered about you, too. The accident didn’t leave you with any aches or pains?”

“It wasn’t much of an accident.” She was still eyeing the specimen jars. “The car seemed a bit sinister without headlights and disappearing the way it did, but I guess the simplest explanation is usually the right one.”

“I hope you warmed up eventually.”

A brief smile relaxed her features. “I don’t think I’ll warm up until I get back to Vancouver.”

“Overheating isn’t a problem in these old houses,” Jack agreed.

“They do provide some protection from snow during the winter.”

“And they keep the coyotes out.”

“But not the mice.” She squelched the growing feeling of friendliness by adding, finally, “I’m not sure if you realize you’re on my grandmother’s property.”

He nodded. “I’m collecting soil samples.”

His calm admission stalled her for a moment. “I suppose you’re looking for somewhere to grow evergreens.”

“That’s right.” He started walking, and Liz fell into step beside him. He shortened his stride to match hers.

“My grandmother won’t sell this field. It’s part of the original homestead.”

“Nobody else is using it.”

“I’m sure my brother would like it for pasture. He’s expanding his herd.”

“It borders my land. It’s miles from his.”

They walked in silence, dry grass brushing their legs. He saw that her shoes were splotched with paint, nearly every color ever invented as far as he could tell. For the first time it occurred to him that illustrating children’s books meant she actually painted pictures.

They had reached the edge of the field. A well-marked path led to Eleanor’s; Jack would have to cut through the woods to reach his house. He found he didn’t want their conversation to end. He tucked the offending specimen jars into his pockets. “Have you and Eleanor been working this morning?”

“We’ve being going through the furniture, making lists of everything. She has to get rid of most of it.”

“That must be hard for both of you.”

“The time had to come eventually. It’s just stuff.”

He scuffed the toe of his hiking boot into the ground. “And this is just land.”

As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. She looked at him indignantly, all her suspicions in place. He understood. He had never belonged anywhere in particular, she had always belonged here. They both knew what roots were.

DESPITE THE DULL BROWNS AND GRAYS of late fall, Will and Edith’s place looked beautiful. Evening sunlight sparkled through the leafless oaks and elms, and small fires flickered here and there in the yard so guests could warm themselves. Coal oil lamps stood on picnic tables, ready to light at dusk. People had come prepared for the temperature to dip when the sun went down—coats were open over sweaters, hats and gloves stuck out of pockets. Children ran through groups of chatting grown-ups, playing Statues, or jumping in fallen leaves.

Liz pulled over, as far off the road as she could get without driving into the ditch. If she parked in the field that was already bumper to bumper with cars her escape route might be cut off by people arriving later. She pulled down the sun visor for one last check of her appearance. The view in the small rectangular mirror wasn’t reassuring. She looked pale and pinched, like someone in the dentist’s waiting room anticipating a root canal.

“You look lovely, dear.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

Pretending not to notice the curious faces that had turned their way, Liz offered Eleanor an arm out of the car, then lifted a monster salad bowl from the back seat. When she turned around, she found herself inches from a small woman with short, graying hair and bangs, and a girl who looked about ten.

“Aunt Edith—” Liz was swept into an embrace that nearly cut off her air supply. With one hand, she held the heavy bowl away from her body, tilting precariously.

“I’ll take that, Auntie Liz.” Jennifer, Tom’s oldest child, rescued the bowl before it fell.

Edith’s grip loosened. “I always said you’d come home eventually. Now, if only Susannah were here. My nest is empty, I’m afraid.”

“Empty, but visited often,” Eleanor said dryly. Susannah’s brothers, Martin and Brian, lived just down the road with their families.

“Of course, it’s a long time since Sue lived at home, but it always seemed that she was still ours.”

Liz nodded. She felt as if she’d lost a bit of Susannah, too.

“This Alex, I don’t know, he obviously considers her his. I suppose I’ll have to adjust. Seeing the wedding for myself would have helped that process, I’m sure. Jennifer, dear, will you put that bowl with the other salads?”

Edith led them along the driveway, edged by curving perennial beds. Most of the flowers had died down and looked like tufts of straw, but a few rust-colored mums still bloomed. “Eleanor, let’s find you a comfortable spot and a hot drink. Jennifer, there you are. Salad safely stowed? Good. Will you look after your aunt? Just take her around the yard and help her mingle until she gets her bearings.”

Liz could sense anxiety in the air, and restrained excitement, as if people were waiting to see the Queen, or Santa Claus at the end of a long parade, and thought someone might get in their line of vision. Was she the source of all that feeling, or had it just been too long between parties? She watched her aunt and grandmother walk away so she could avoid looking at anyone else. There was a barrier between herself and the people who’d come to welcome her, and she didn’t know how to cross it. She didn’t want to cross it.

“Who do you want to meet first?” Jennifer asked.

“How about your dad?”

“You had breakfast with my dad. Anyway, he’s barbecuing.”

Liz could see Tom across the yard, lifting the lid of one of four gas barbecues, tongs in hand. A spicy, smoky smell she’d noticed earlier intensified. Teriyaki something.

Jennifer lowered her voice. “Everybody’s looking at you, like they’re waiting.”

Her niece’s discomfort made Liz ashamed of her hesitation. “Let’s just go into the fray and talk to everyone at once.”

Pleasant faces and friendly voices greeted her. Liz found it easy to respond the same way. Part of her even began to enjoy the evening. She spoke to the couple who’d sold her mother eggs and cream, and to the repairman who’d nursed her family’s appliances through mishaps years after their warranties had expired. There was her Sunday School teacher, completely unchanged, and her grade-one teacher, unrecognizable, and in a wheelchair. Second and third cousins who’d never made the trip to Vancouver dived right into the middle of family stories, as if she’d only been away for a few weeks. Parents of young children told her which of her books they’d borrowed from the library and which they’d bought. Someone brought her a cup of cocoa, a few people mentioned her dented car and everyone agreed she’d done well for herself. Through it all, Jennifer followed along, saying hello to each person by name, in case Liz had forgotten.

As she moved away from signing a book one father had thought to bring with him, a pair of arms came around Liz from behind and a chin rested on her shoulder. “Gotcha!”

Liz recognized the voice and the freckled arms. She turned to smile at her sister-in-law. “Pam. I wondered where you were.”

“In the kitchen, of course. Why is it that as soon as I manage to get out of mine I find myself in someone else’s? Emily and Aunt Julia are still there, keeping the cocoa going.”

Interpreting her mother’s arrival as permission to abandon her aunt, Jennifer ran off to join the other children at the far end of the yard. They were holding out brown grass to three sorrel mares, and even though the horses could graze the same grass themselves, they reached eagerly over the fence to take it.

Pam pulled Liz’s elbow. “Look. There’s the new cutie.”

Jack McKinnon stood a few yards away, holding a pie in each hand. His deep voice reached them. “Sorry I’m late, Edith. Pumpkin pies, just as you asked.” A picture formed in Liz’s mind, a silver-eyed fairy king going to market, a string of pies floating behind him…

Definitely Tara, rather than Saturn. Not the pretty, child-friendly kind of fairy, though. The primitive kind, with nature’s beauty and force and heartlessness. Dressed in dry fall leaves. No, not dressed…part of the leaves, nature personified. Liz’s hand ached for a pencil.

“I just love him,” Pam said, in a near whisper. “He’s your grandma’s new neighbor.”

“I met him last night.”

“Imagine, he grows pumpkins. He wants to grow Christmas trees.”

“Appealing, isn’t it? There’s something about him, though—”

“I’ll say.”

Liz looked at her sister-in-law doubtfully. “Does Tom mind all this appreciation?”

“He values an innovative farmer as much as I do.” Pam caught the eye of a white-haired man standing nearby. “Isn’t that right, Daniel?”

“Isn’t what right?” Daniel came closer, his step slow and stiff, so different from the energetic stride Liz remembered. He might not be able to outmuscle a misbehaving horse anymore, but he hadn’t lost the ramrod bearing he’d picked up as a Mountie, or his air of authority. “Good to see you, Liz. Thought you’d never come back.”

“I wasn’t sure I would, either.” She smiled. “Now that I’m here, I’m glad I did.”

Daniel nodded. “So, we had some excitement last month.” He waited until Liz started to prompt him, then continued, “Your cousin came through town with her new husband.” He paused again, and Liz remembered that he’d always talked that way, stopping as if to wait for a response, but then going on if you tried to make one. “I saw him through the car window when they were driving back to Winnipeg to catch their plane. Your poor aunt planned a whole get-together for them. Thought she could have a sort of reception, at least, if not the wedding. Managed to get the family together, I hear, but they only stayed for an hour, just long enough to introduce the husband, and then they were gone. Wouldn’t you think a daughter would make time?” He stopped to take a breath.

Quickly, Liz said, “I’m sure Susannah would have, if she could.”

“She would have,” Daniel said, nodding pointedly, “if it had been up to her. I guess there’s not much chance she’ll ever move back home now, not with a husband like that, always gallivanting around the globe digging up dinosaurs.”

“Sue’s always digging up dinosaurs, too.”

“Doesn’t seem like real work, does it?” Daniel’s gaze wandered past her, and with a nod he moved on, joining some friends beside one of the small fires.

Jack had deposited his pies on a picnic table. Liz watched him wander through the yard, speaking to a few people, politely accepted, but not really welcomed. It would be years before anyone believed he belonged in the community. Years, or never. He might always be the guy who’d bought the Ramsey place.

Pam dropped her voice suggestively. “Got your eye on Jack?”

“Of course not. I’m just sorry for him. This isn’t an easy place to fit in.”

“Half the people around town say he’s growing marijuana.” In response to Liz’s surprised glance, Pam explained, “City guy, failed business, money to spend. Talks about organic farming. Case closed.”

“I don’t think his business failed. Grandma told me he wanted a change.”

“My dad says a businessman from the city wouldn’t choose to farm unless he was crazy or desperate. That’s the way most people see it.”

Jack had come to a stop under a maple that looked soft with age. He was alone, and suddenly Liz felt the need to protect him. Murmuring to Pam that she’d talk to her later, she hurried over, intending to offer a real welcome. Instead, she found herself saying accusingly, “Why didn’t you tell me my grandmother gave you permission to take soil samples from that field?”

He took a careful sip from a disposable cup full of steaming cocoa before answering. “She did more than give permission. She suggested I test it.”

“You let me think you were trespassing.”

“I didn’t want to take the wind out of your sails.” Jack gently swirled the cocoa around his cup, catching bits of froth clinging to the sides.

Liz’s cheeks warmed at his description of her behavior. “She told me if the field’s right for evergreens, she’ll rent it to you, not sell it.”

“I wouldn’t think of trying to take it away from your family after all these years.”

“I thought—” Liz stopped. It was an awkward thing to come right out and say.

“You thought I was an evil rancher out to steal an old lady’s land?”

She smiled. “An evil Christmas tree farmer.”

At last some warmth crept into his eyes. Liz wasn’t sure if she’d really moved closer to him, or if it just felt as if she had. She took a step back just in case. This was her grandmother’s neighbor. It was almost wrong to think of him any other way. He was the pie maker, the pumpkin farmer who’d been taken under Eleanor’s wing. She shuffled through her mind for a safe conversational topic, something far removed from cocoa-touched lips. “You’ve chosen some unusual crops,” she said finally. “This has always been a wheat and oats kind of place.”

“That’s what everybody says. Newcomers growing new crops? Whatever is the world coming to?”

She decided not to tell him about the marijuana theory. “It’s not that people are unfriendly. The same families have been here for more than a hundred years, though, and they’re slow to accept new faces. In twenty years you’ll still be a newcomer growing new crops.”

“And you, even if you don’t set foot in the place again in all that time, will still be the town’s favorite daughter.”

There was some truth to what he said, but something else came through, a bitterness or disapproval he’d almost managed to hide. “Maybe not the favorite daughter,” she said lightly. “Second, even third or fourth favorite, I’m not sure.”

From the center of a group of men standing near one of the picnic tables, a familiar voice rose. Liz stiffened.

“Elizabeth? Is something wrong?”

She hardly heard Jack’s question. What was Wayne Cooper doing here? She hadn’t seen him when Jennifer had led her around the yard. He must have come late. He was standing comfortably, hands in his pockets, shooting the breeze. Anyone would think he had nothing in the world to regret.

He turned, and saw her. “Liz!” He sounded happy, as if they were old friends. Before she had time to react, he’d reached her side. He glanced at Jack, then ignored him. “Hey, Liz. You look great.”

“You, too,” she said automatically. “Almost grown up.”

Another quick grin. “Almost, almost. Gotta avoid that last step, where you turn into your old man. Anyway, the wife likes my boyish charm.” His wiggled his eyebrows, his signature comedic move ever since grade two.

“You’re married?” Liz looked around for her grandmother. Would she mind leaving early?

“Yeah, someone took me on. Hard to believe, I know. You remember Sally, she always had that long ponytail—”

“I remember you pulling someone’s ponytail.”

Wayne smiled at the memory. “That’s her. How about you, Lizzie? Got a man tucked away somewhere?”

Liz felt a burst of anger. He was smiling, waiting for an answer, as if he had every right to ask her about her personal life, about who she loved. The world could fall apart around him and he would still smile, as pleased with himself as ever. She was aware of wanting him gone, and then suddenly he was. Jack had moved between them, and without taking any steps at all that she was aware of, they were halfway across the yard. They kept moving, Jack’s hand on her arm, until they reached the fence that separated the yard from the pasture. Three grazing heads came up, ears flicked forward, and the horses sauntered over to meet them.

“I hope that wasn’t high-handed,” Jack said. “You seemed to want to get away.”

“I can’t believe he’s here. Aunt Edith wouldn’t have invited him.”

“There were notices about the barbecue on the community bulletin boards.”

She had forgotten about the boards. The town was too small for a newspaper, but you could find out nearly everything that was going on if you kept an eye on the messages people tacked up in the stores and the post office.

The horses had crowded close to the fence, competing for position. One touched its nose to Liz’s shoulder, pushing gently. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said softly. “It’s not fair, is it? The people have all the treats. Where’s the alfalfa? Where’s the bran mash?” All three horses listened, but the first mare kept the other two away. “So you’re top dog, are you?” Liz pulled her hand over the heads of wild oats growing near the fence, collecting seeds, and held it out flat. The horse ate, tough lips nuzzling her palm, delicately picking up each kernel.

“How can you be afraid of Wayne Cooper, and not of these two-ton beasts?”

“I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t like him.” She wasn’t sure how to explain without telling the whole story. “Wayne…likes to find your soft spot and give it a squeeze.”

She brushed the last few oats from her hand. “I need to get out of here. Do you think you could find my grandmother for me, so I won’t risk bumping into him again?”

“Sure.” Jack didn’t move. “It’s none of my business, but do you mind if I give an opinion?”

For some reason, she didn’t mind. She wanted to hear what he thought.

“I don’t know what’s going on, so I could be wrong—leaving might be the best thing for you to do. Cooper would be chasing you away, though. If you let people scare you off, you never stop being scared. That’s basic, Elizabeth.”

“Liz.” She took a deep breath and felt her muscles relax a notch. “I don’t know how to deal with him.” She knew Jack didn’t understand. Wayne must seem inconsequential to him, a little obnoxious, but harmless.

“Want a suggestion?”

“If you’ve got one.”

“Let’s help ourselves to whatever your brother’s been cooking, and then you can introduce me to your friends. Cooper won’t get near you again if you don’t want him to, I can promise you that. But he’ll see you ignoring him, having a good time in spite of him. If he’s hoping to intimidate you, it’ll be hard for him to take.”

It was, as Jack said, basic. Her instinct to put herself in a whole different time zone than Wayne Cooper had been stronger than her good sense.

Liz had been looking at Jack’s chest throughout the conversation. Finally, she looked up. Right away she could see that the image of the heartless primitive fairy was all wrong. His face was warm, concerned. “I really appreciate this. I didn’t have you pegged as a white knight.”

“That’s good. I’m no kind of knight.”

There was a touch of sadness in his smile. Launcelot exiled from Camelot, she thought, Arthur from Avalon. Instead of a violin, a lute for those long fingers to strum. Instead of a pie in hand, a shield. Could she do a story about knights, or had children already seen all they wanted of swords and dragons and wizards?