Читать книгу After the Storm - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 9

J ared pounded on the wide, creaking, glass-and-wood doors of the Dover Mountain Mini-Mart and Grocery, then pushed, surprised to find the store open this early on a Sunday morning. The indoor heat hit him with a dry, hot rush as he left the cold behind. The door was unlocked, but the place was dark and deserted. “Hello,” he called, glancing down the crowded aisles. “Anybody here?”

“In the back,” came a voice that sounded as aged and cracked as some of the old pickle barrels sitting around the place looked. “What can I do for you, fellow?”

Jared followed the sound of the voice to a rocking chair beside a puffing wood-burning buckstove. This whole store creaked and swayed and puffed, he decided, wondering how it had stood up through last night’s storm.

“Mr. Curtis?” he asked as he took off the sock-hat and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze on the old man who sat smoking a pipe while he steadily rocked back and forth.

“That’d be me,” the old man said, his grin revealing a gap-toothed smile. “Warren J. That’s what they call me. And who are you, stranger?”

Jared liked the directness of the other man’s question. “I’m Jared Murdock. I came in last night. Rented the second cabin on the left—”

“Number 202,” Mr. Curtis said, nodding. “Heard we had some city fellow coming to stay for a while. Don’t get many people from the city, mostly hunters or fishermen during the different seasons. Get a few rafters who like to ride the river in the summertime—too cold for that today, though. Goin’ to do some fishing and hiking, camping maybe?”

“I haven’t decided,” Jared replied, trying to get past the niceties. “Mr. Curtis, I got stuck in the storm and I went to the wrong cabin last night and…well, I helped Alisha Emerson deliver her baby.”

“What now?” Mr. Curtis shot up out of the rocking chair so fast, Jared had to catch the man to keep him from falling into the roaring heat from the furnace. “Let me get Letty.” He whirled in a mist of pipe smoke and overalls, his brogans carrying him to the back of the store with a clamoring clarity. “Letty, Letty Martha, come on out here, you hear?”

Jared heard a shrill voice responding. “Coming. Coming. Do we actually have a customer this morning? Well, I did tell you we’d need to open up just in case people needed things.” She stopped talking for a full second. “I was just about to go for a walk to survey the damage—before I change for church. We might not have electricity, but this is Easter Sunday. We’ll hold the service out underneath the trees if we have to.”

Jared waited, listening to the voice calling out from the back. Did the woman ever take a breath?

Warren J. stomped a brogan against the plank floor, causing the whole store to shake. “Not just a customer, honey. A man who says Alisha had her baby last night.”

That brought a rustling movement from the back. Letty Martha appeared in the doorway, wearing a bright pink nylon windsuit over a thick white turtleneck sweater. Even thicker white-and-purple bunny-rabbit-decorated socks folded like a ruffle against her battered athletic shoes. Pushing at the tufts of gray hair surrounding her jovial face, she gave her husband a direct head-to-toe look. “Did you say Alisha had her baby?”

“That’s what I said,” Warren J. replied, clearly agitated as he turned back to Jared. “And this here man, what did you say your name was now, son?”

“Jared Murdock,” Jared said, mustering a reassuring smile toward Letty Martha.

“This Jared says he helped deliver the baby,” Warren J. said, his watery eyes suspicious and full of utter disbelief.

“I don’t believe it,” Letty said, echoing the look in her husband’s eyes, her hand flying to her mouth. “Surely you’re joking us, mister. A baby born on Easter morning?”

“I’m not joking,” Jared said, hands on his hips. “Alisha wanted me to stop by and tell you first, but I need to find Dr. Sloane.” At the panicked look in the couple’s eyes, he held up a hand. “Mother and child are both doing fine as far as I can tell, but we still want the doctor to check them.”

Letty Martha and Warren J. both swung into action, almost colliding with each other in their nervousness and haste.

“I’ll call Doc right now,” Warren J. said as he held out two hands to steady his plump wife.

“And the midwife, too,” Letty Martha said, wagging a veined finger in the air. “Alisha wanted Miss Mozelle there, too, remember.”

“Well, I can only call them one at a time,” Warren J. replied in a curt voice. “I can hardly see without a light.”

Letty found a candle, lit it and held it to the phone so her husband could see. “Now then, do it, do it,” Letty Martha said, waving her hands in the air after her husband stubbornly took the candle from her. Turning back to Jared, she let out a laugh. “You’d think we’d never before had a baby born around here.”

Jared had to smile at that while he remembered his own nervousness from the night before. “I guess anytime a baby is born, things become a bit exciting.”

“You can say that again,” Letty replied, her hand reaching out to pull him down into one of the matching rocking chairs. “Sit down here and tell me everything. How is the darling? How’s the mama? That Alisha, she is such a sweet little thing, isn’t she? And been through so much—”

Letty Martha froze as if someone had put her in a trance, her vivid sky-blue eyes centered on her husband. Jared turned just in time to see the warning in her husband’s eyes, as well as the finger he had pressed to his lips, silently telling Letty Martha to be quiet.

Jared looked from the man with the phone to the woman in the rocking chair opposite him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, wondering if he was going to get a straight answer after all.

“Nothing, nothing,” Letty Martha said, waving her hands again. “I ramble on and on about everything. Warren J. was just reminding me to mind my manners. Now, would you like a good strong cup of coffee and a slice of apple bread?”

Jared could only nod and watch as, before he could decline, she disappeared in a puff of pink, an aura of almond-scented lotion following in her wake.

“Phone’s still not working,” Warren J. said as he ambled back over to the furnace. “You’ll have to walk to the doctor’s clinic. It’s just around the corner, but he might not be there, what with this storm and all. Just about everything in town—and that ain’t much, mind you—is shut down ’cause the power’s out.”

“What about his residence?” Jared asked, trying to be patient.

“It’s back behind the clinic,” Warren J. replied, rocking back and forth on his heels. “A white two-story house.”

“I’ll find him,” Jared said as Letty Martha came back in with his coffee and a large chunk of moist-looking brown bread, centered on a pink-and-purple-checked napkin. Apparently, pink and purple were Letty’s favorite colors.

“Eat, eat,” Letty Martha suggested, a serene smile on her face. “Did you walk all the way up that mountain?” At Jared’s nod, she added, “Take a quick rest, then. That’s a hard trek, even on a good day.”

Jared took a quick bite of the wonderful apple bread, then drank deeply of the fresh coffee. Chewing quickly, he thought he should just hurry to get the doctor. He’d only stopped in here to let them know about Alisha—at her insistence—and to make sure he was headed in the right direction toward the clinic.

But now he really wanted to know why Warren J. Curtis had made his wife hush before she could tell Jared exactly what Alisha had been through. Jared knew she’d been through a lot, losing her husband, moving here, then giving birth to a child alone, but there seemed to be more behind the story. He’d seen the look in Warren J.’s eyes. It had been a definite warning. Jared got the distinct impression that this lovely couple was in on some sort of secret.

Some sort of secret about Alisha Emerson.

While Jared talked to the Curtises, another man stood looking out at the silent town.

He knew a secret.

He stood at the window of the run-down house, staring out at the cold, wet landscape. Without electricity, there was no chance of getting anything done today. The roads were empty and dead silent, the ridges and woods eerie-looking and treacherous with fallen debris and limbs. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to work anyway. And he sure wasn’t going to church to celebrate Easter with all the fine folks of Dover Mountain.

He hated storms and he didn’t like God very much either.

“Could go on back to bed,” he told himself as he shivered in his undershirt and flannel pajama bottoms. If that aggravating phone company got the lines back up, he could go back to his latest obsession, surfing the Internet, hanging out in chat rooms, finding out secrets people didn’t necessarily want to be found out.

Like Alisha Emerson, for example. Alisha Emerson, the pretty, pregnant woman who’d mysteriously appeared on Dover Mountain in the fall and set up house in an old cabin that she claimed had belonged to her mother’s people.

Well, he’d done some digging around. Thanks to a few blabbermouths around here, and his ability to track people’s background information, he knew a few things about Alisha Emerson. And he intended to find out more. He had a plan. And that plan included wanting more than he was getting, wasting his time and his talent on this trash pile of a mountain. And if what he’d heard—what someone had let slip—was true, Alisha Emerson could help with those plans. He’d already tried to get closer to her. He’d been friendly and sympathetic to her plight, but the woman was stubborn and quiet. She liked to keep to herself, didn’t hold with sharing much personal stuff. That was okay. He’d learned enough when she’d first come here. And he could be patient as far as the rest. He could bide his time.

But first, he had to get all his ducks in a row. He had to be armed with enough information to make it worth his while. Enough information to make Alisha Emerson sweat just a little bit. Once he had her convinced, she’d give in to him. She’d be his then. He’d get back everything he’d lost, and together they could leave this dreadful place.

Speaking of sweating, he was freezing now. That’s how it went, hot and cold. Hot and cold. Shaking one minute and calm and still, burning, the next. He was just about to turn around and head back to his bedroom when he saw a movement coming up the road, headed toward the store just around the corner. He squinted against the cold, cracked window.

“Now, who’s that?” he wondered as he watched the tall man wearing a black leather overcoat go trudging up the muddy, potholed road to the south. There was a stranger on the mountain.

Tourists. Dover Mountain only got a few, but he hated them. They were just so nosy and demanding. A real pain to deal with. But this one looked like he had money, at least.

He snorted and scratched at his belly. “Some city fellow got lost in the storm. How tragic.” He laughed, thought about offering the man some help, but then decided he just felt too miserable for the effort. “You got yourself this far, I reckon. You can keep on moving.”

Besides, soon he’d have plenty of money himself. Wouldn’t have to depend on strangers for handouts, wouldn’t have to depend on this town, or these people to keep him above water. Soon, he’d be on his way off this sad little mountain and on to better things. No more worries. No more nagging memories. Freedom at last.

And all thanks to the beautiful Alisha Emerson.

Jared found Dr. Sloane. He had to pound on the door of the white house several times, but when the doctor finally came to the door, Jared was shocked at what he saw, and more than a little relieved that this man hadn’t had anything to do with Alisha’s delivery.

Dr. Sloane’s face was the color of saffron, yellowed and aged like dried newspaper. His hazel eyes sank back against his jaundiced skin like two pebbles trapped in stagnant water. His thick silver-streaked hair stood up in oily clumps around his forehead. He looked to be around fifty or so, but he was apparently suffering from what Jared could only guess was a tremendous hangover. Was this the best medical help the people of Dover Mountain could get?

“What you want?” the doctor asked, his bloodshot eyes moving over Jared’s face with contempt. “The clinic’s closed on Sundays, and I can’t open up, anyway. I don’t have electricity, so I can only deal with true emergencies.” He moved to shut the door.

“I have an emergency,” Jared said, his hand coming up to block the door. Hoping he’d be wrong, he asked, “You are Dr. Sloane, right?”

“Yep, but—”

Jared held the door. “Alisha Emerson had her baby last night. I helped deliver the boy. We just need you to come and check on them both, that is, if you think you’re able.”

Dr. Sloane’s head came up, his skin becoming a strange florid shade as he glared up at Jared. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing to Alisha’s needs, thank you.” Then he pointed a finger in Jared’s face. “And just who exactly are you? We don’t cotton to strangers here, you know.”

“I’m beginning to see that, yes,” Jared said. “I’m Jared Murdock. I live in Atlanta—”

“Where in Atlanta?”

It was almost the same question Alisha had asked him last night. “Buckhead. In a house that’s been in my family for close to seventy years.” Jared didn’t go into detail about his uptown penthouse. It was none of this man’s business, anyway.

The doctor teetered on his bare feet, his liver-spotted hands pulling tightly at the sash of his threadbare plaid flannel bathrobe. “Old money, huh? Y’all think you can come up here and take over this mountain—tourists and troublemakers—”

“I’m not a troublemaker, and I’m really not a tourist,” Jared replied, anger making the words harsh. “But if you don’t get in gear and come with me to see about Alisha, I’m going to make trouble, a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t take to threats,” the doctor said, leaning in so close Jared could smell the leftover alcohol on his breath. And see the fury in his eyes.

As they stood staring each other down, Jared heard church bells ringing, then the soft, sweet sound of voices lifted in a song. The Easter service had begun, and the sound of the celebration echoed out over the mountain, reminding Jared of Alisha’s gospel music. Reminding him that he’d left her alone.

“Do you care about Alisha and her baby?” Jared asked the doctor, doubt and worry making him think Alisha was better off without this old coot. No wonder Alisha had insisted on having a midwife present, too.

That brought the doctor’s head back up and Jared thought he saw tears in the man’s weary eyes. But the clarity came back, as if the doctor had come to his senses and realized his job. “I care. We all do. Never doubt that for a minute.”

The softening tone in the man’s voice gave Jared a little bit of reassurance. “Then will you hurry up and come back down the mountain with me. I had to walk—my SUV is stuck in a mud hole, and the roads are muddy and slick. Do you think you can make it to her cabin with me?”

“Let me change,” the doctor said, spinning around. Then he turned back to stare at Jared. “You can come on in, make a pot of coffee. I got a percolator and a gas stove to brew it nice and hot.”

There was a plea inside the suggestion.

“Good idea,” Jared said as he entered the narrow hallway of the old home. “For both our sakes.”

Alisha heard the knocking at her door, and thinking it was Jared, called out to him. “Come in.”

“It’s me, Miss Alisha.”

“Rayanne?” Alisha sat up in the bed. “I’m back in the bedroom, honey.”

She waited, her gaze moving protectively over little Callum as she heard the girl coming up the hallway toward the bedroom. As Rayanne Wilkes entered the bedroom, Alisha thought of the tough road the girl had ahead of her. Rayanne was also pregnant, unwed, and due in about three or four weeks.

Taking in the sight of the girl all bundled up in a worn green wool coat and an old, moth-eaten yellow knitted scarf, Alisha asked, “What are you doing out in this cold, wet weather, sweetie?”

“Word’s out you had a baby last night,” Rayanne said, her smile shy as always, her green eyes dancing. She lifted the heavy scarf away from her face, static causing strands of her limp blond hair to fly out. “Mama sent me right away. I put some cookies and sandwiches on the kitchen table.”

The Wilkes family had very little money and no hope of climbing out of debt anytime soon. They lived in an old mobile home back off the road, up on a beautiful ridge just past Alisha’s cabin. With four of their five children still living at home, and with their only income coming from part-time jobs and cleaning and maintaining the village’s five remote rental cabins, the Wilkeses were barely squeaking by. And yet, Loretta Wilkes had somehow found food for Alisha.

Touched by the kindness, Alisha said, “That’s awfully nice of your mama,” Alisha said. “She didn’t have to do that.”

“She wanted to,” Rayanne said, moving around the room toward the bassinet. “Mr. Curtis came himself to tell us. Wanted one of us to come and sit with you while that man who helped you went for the doctor.”

“Jared Murdock,” Alisha replied, memories settling around her as she stared up at Rayanne. “I guess he found Dr. Sloane all right?”

“Don’t know,” Rayanne said. “Half the town’s at the church, attending Easter services out in the prayer garden. Of course, we both know Dr. Sloane won’t be there.” Then she spotted the baby and leaned in toward the crib as she let out a squeal. “Oh, ain’t he the prettiest little thing?”

Alisha felt tears pricking her eyes, and wasn’t surprised to see the same in Rayanne’s eyes. “You’ll soon have your own.”

Rayanne nodded, the mist turning to real tears. “I guess so.”

“What about Jimmy?” Alisha asked, her tone gentle and without judgment.

“He ain’t offered to marry me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rayanne said as she sank down in the chair by the bed, her eyes still on little Callum.

Jimmy Barrett was Rayanne’s boyfriend and the father of her child. And in Alisha’s mind, he was the worst kind of trouble. He drove a souped-up Camaro and ran the roads up and down the mountain, back and forth, day and night. What little money he made went for beer and more fancy equipment for his computer games and elaborate stereo system. “Has he offered to help with the expenses, at least?”

“No.” Rayanne shook her head, then sniffed. “He ain’t offered nothing, and my daddy’s pretty steamed about that.”

“Rightly so,” Alisha replied, remembering when the teenaged girl had first come to her seeking help. “Rayanne, I’m glad you’re keeping your baby, but honey, you know if it gets to be too much, there are plenty of couples who could give your baby a good home—”

“No,” Rayanne said, coming up off the bed in spite of her rounded belly. “I told you already, I can’t do that, Miss Alisha. I can’t give up my baby to strangers. Mama said we’d make do. I’ll find work somewhere, and Mama will help me.”

“I know your mother will do her best,” Alisha said, nodding, her hand reaching out to the girl. “And you know I’ll help you out, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rayanne said, settling back on the bed, her hand clutching Alisha’s. “I appreciate everything you’ve already done. And I ain’t told no one about the money you loaned me.”

“Good,” Alisha replied, relief washing over her. Then at Rayanne’s evasive look, she asked, “Not even Jimmy?”

Rayanne glanced away. “He found some of it in my purse. But I told him Mama gave it to me. He made me give some over to him, for cigarettes and gas. Said I owed him since he had to take me down the mountain to that free clinic you suggested in Dalton.”

Anger coursed through Alisha’s veins like a raging river, but she couldn’t let Rayanne see that anger. It had been a long, hard battle, counseling this girl at church every week, and Alisha knew the real battle was still to come. She couldn’t bad-mouth Jimmy Barrett, whether she liked the man or not, at least not to Rayanne. The girl was in love with Jimmy. But Jimmy was older than Rayanne, and a sweet-talker with street smarts at that. Rayanne had been taken in by his charm and cunning. And now the girl was paying for her impulsive actions and her need to be loved and accepted. Big-time.

But we all have to pay, sooner or later, Alisha reasoned. We all pay for our sins.

Don’t let my baby suffer because of me, Lord, she said silently. And don’t let Rayanne pay because she made one mistake. “Jimmy needs to own up to his responsibilities,” she told the girl, her voice calm in spite of the flutter of rage still moving through her system.

“I think he’ll come around after the baby is born,” Rayanne said in a hopeful tone. “I mean, how could anyone resist something so little and sweet?” As she spoke she gazed down at Alisha’s son. “What did you name him?”

“Callum,” Alisha answered, the anger simmering down as she looked at her son. “Callum Andrew Emerson.”

“Callum,” Rayanne said, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Where’d you come up with a name like that?”

Alisha lowered her head and smiled softly. “The man who helped deliver him—his middle name is Callum.”

“Ah, that’s so sweet, Miss Alisha. Is this man…is he handsome?”

Seeing the girl’s sly grin, Alisha laughed. “He is a very nice-looking man, yes. And a true gentleman.”

A man who grew up in Atlanta, the very place I’m trying to forget, she reminded herself.

Rayanne watched Alisha, then touched a hand to Callum’s little arm. “Do you wish his daddy was here?”

A shiver moving like a fingertip down her spine, Alisha wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “I know his daddy would be so proud,” she said, tears once again brimming in her eyes.

“We’re a pair, ain’t we, Miss Alisha?” Rayanne said, one hand holding to Callum as she reached the other to Alisha. “All alone, with no daddies for our babies.”

“We are a pair,” Alisha said, the tender longing in the girl’s eyes making her own heart ache. “But we’re going to be fine, Rayanne. Remember, I promised to help you.”

Rayanne nodded. “And you told me, no matter how bad things get, God is watching over me.”

“That’s right,” Alisha replied, remembering a time when she thought God had abandoned her. “You made a mistake, but your child shouldn’t have to pay for that mistake. And if you turn to God and try to do right by this baby, things will work out for the best.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rayanne said, her hand touching her stomach. “I pray you are.”

Alisha echoed that prayer in her own soul. She wanted to do right by her child, and she surely wanted God to guide her along the way. It had taken her a while to see that God was here with her, and now that she’d turned back to Him for the help and guidance she needed, she could only hope God had not turned away from her pleas, from her need to raise this child with love and faith as his cornerstones.

And she could only hope that God had forgiven her for her awful, awful sins and the secret that could destroy her son if anyone ever found out the truth.