Читать книгу Home by Dark - Marta Perry - Страница 12

CHAPTER TWO

BY MIDAFTERNOON, the early enthusiasm Mandy had shown for painting had predictably waned. Benj was quite willing to keep on working, but Rachel decided they’d all had enough for one day. The entrance hall painting was finished, and the prospect of starting another room seemed too daunting.

“Why don’t you show Mandy the outbuildings?” she suggested. “She’s wanted to explore, and I haven’t had time to go with her.”

“Sure thing.” Benj wiped his hands on the edge of the old sheet she’d used to cover the marble-topped stand in the hall. He grinned at Mandy. “Komm, schnell. You remember what that means?”

“Come quick,” Mandy said promptly. “Bet I can beat you to the back door.” She darted toward the kitchen, with Benj letting her get a head start.

It was a relief to see her little brother acting normally again. “Denke, Benj. I know I can count on you to keep Mandy from trying anything too daring.”

A shadow crossed his face at what had surely been an innocent remark. Then he nodded, smiled and chased after Mandy.

Rachel frowned after him for a moment before going into the powder room that had taken the place of a large closet once Amanda Mason had decided she didn’t care to go up and down the stairs too often. A quick washing got rid of most of the paint stains, but the face that stared back at Rachel from the mirror still wore the worried frown that had become almost a permanent fixture in recent months.

She forced a smile, trying to counteract the effect. With her hair pulled back from a center part and the lack of makeup, she looked...well, not like the Amish girl who had run away with Ronnie Mason. That girl had had rosy cheeks and stars in her eyes. With her hair pulled back and sans makeup, this was closer to the Amish woman she would have turned into had young love, in the shape of Ronnie, not intervened.

Splashing some cold water on her face, Rachel turned away from the mirror. Dwelling on the past was seldom a good idea, as Colin had said, and she’d been doing too much of that lately. She couldn’t build a future on what-ifs.

Besides, she had Mandy. Fierce maternal love surged through her. Mandy was worth any sacrifice. The doubts Colin had voiced were the ones that kept her up at night, but she couldn’t listen to them. She would make a success of her plans because Mandy’s security and happiness depended upon them.

The house seemed empty with Benj and Mandy gone. She crossed the hallway and headed out the front door. She might as well check and see if any mail had found her at her new address yet.

The long porch across the front was one of the house’s beauties. In her mind’s eye, Rachel could see it the way she intended it to be, its gingerbread trim freshly painted, geraniums blooming in pots and hanging baskets, with comfortable rockers where her guests could relax.

She grasped the railing as she started down the steps, and it wobbled under her hand. Yet another thing she’d have to fix. She’d make up in hard work what she lacked in money.

The mailbox stood on a post next to the road, since Deer Run wasn’t big enough to warrant a mail carrier who walked from house to house. She pulled it open, finding an electric bill that had apparently chased her from the rental apartment in Philadelphia and what appeared to be a complimentary copy of the County Gazette, a weekly newspaper that was primarily composed of advertisements.

Holding it conjured up an image of Daadi reading through it, word by word, after he’d finished reading The Budget, the Amish newspaper that kept far-flung Amish communities in touch. She could see him so vividly, sitting in the wooden rocker next to the gas stove, his drugstore reading glasses sliding down his nose.

“Rachel? It is Rachel Weaver, isn’t it? I mean, Rachel Mason, of course.” The woman who’d hailed her hurried across the road after a cautious look in both directions.

Rachel waited, heart sinking. She’d been reasonably certain she could count on a call from Helen Blackwood, an elderly crony of her late mother-in-law, but she’d hoped to be a little better prepared for it. All the people in Deer Run she least wanted to see seemed determined to find her when she looked like a bag lady.

Not, she supposed, that Helen Blackwood would use those words. Having spent her entire life in Deer Run, Helen’s knowledge of the wider world was probably limited to whatever she watched on television.

The woman had nearly reached her, and Rachel arranged what she hoped was a welcoming smile on her face. “Miss Blackwood, how nice to see you. I hope you’re well.”

“Right as rain.” The woman’s returning smile was somewhat guarded, as if she questioned her welcome. “But do call me Helen. After all, I was your mother-in-law’s greatest friend.”

“Helen,” Rachel repeated, trying to infuse some warmth into the word. His mother’s shadow—that was how Ronnie had referred to Helen in the light, contemptuous way he sometimes had of dismissing people.

Unlike Amanda Mason, who had never succumbed to the idea of women wearing pants, Helen had stuffed herself into a pair of navy stretch pants, worn with a three-quarter-sleeve blouse in a jaunty sailing print. Her sense of the fitness of things had apparently not extended to bare feet, because she wore what must be knee-length nylons with her sensible sandals. With her round pink cheeks and curly white hair, she looked like a china doll in improbable dress.

“I’ve been intending to come over and welcome you back to Deer Run, but I didn’t want to intrude.” Helen sent an inquiring glance toward the house, and Rachel realized she was expected to invite her visitor in.

“You caught me just finishing some painting,” she said, indicating her paint-stained clothes. “Won’t you come inside? I’m sure I can rustle up some lemonade, if my daughter and my brother haven’t finished it.”

“No lemonade for me, thanks, but I will come in for just a moment.” Helen opened the wrought-iron gate, which squeaked in protest, and joined her on the flagstone walk. “I’m afraid you found the house in need of a great deal of work. I told Amanda and told her she should keep it up better, but she got rather...” Helen paused, as if selecting the word carefully. “Well...rather bitter toward the end, saying what difference did it make, since she had no one—”

Helen stopped, her already pink cheeks turning a deeper hue. “Well, anyway, I’m sure that was just her illness talking.”

“Most likely.” Rachel was noncommittal. Maybe Colin had been right in his offhand comment about Amanda leaving her the house to punish her. No, she wouldn’t let herself descend into that sort of cynicism.

This visit could be a blessing in disguise. If anyone knew why Amanda Mason had left her property the way she had, it would surely be Helen.

Rachel took a step to the left as they went up the stairs to the porch, making sure that Helen had the side where the railing was solid. Fixing the railing had better be promoted to the top of her to-do list.

Helen moved into the house and stopped, staring. “Oh. You’ve painted the hall. Amanda always insisted it be papered. I’m sure I don’t know what she would say.”

“I’m afraid wallpapering isn’t among my skills.” Rachel couldn’t help the stiffness in her voice. She should have expected negative comments. Mason House was a landmark in the village, and people didn’t like to see landmarks changed.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” The sudden sympathy in Helen’s voice caught her off guard. “Every time I open my mouth I put my foot in it, that’s what Amanda used to say.”

Maybe it hadn’t been an easy task, being Amanda Mason’s closest friend. Ronnie had come by his penchant for making cutting remarks from his mother, most likely.

“It’s all right.” Rachel led her guest into the front parlor, thankful that it was virtually untouched save for a vacuuming that had been desperately needed. Sunlight streamed through the windows in the circular bay, making patterns on the Oriental carpet. “It’s natural that you hate to see the house changed after all these years.”

“Well, change is inevitable, isn’t it?” Helen sat down on the curving tapestry love seat, putting her feet together and glancing with apparent satisfaction at her slacks. “I tried to tell Amanda that once, but got my nose bitten off for my trouble.”

“I suppose she preferred things the way they’d always been.” Rachel darted a glance at the portrait of her mother-in-law that hung over the mantel. Amanda, with her coronet of white hair, regal bearing and elegant bone structure, had been suited to the style of a century ago. It was impossible to imagine her wearing Helen’s current outfit.

“True enough.” Helen patted her soft white curls. “Why, she insisted on wearing a hat to church every single Sunday, even when she was the only woman in the entire congregation with a hat. So it just goes to show you, doesn’t it?” she added, a bit obscurely.

Rachel wasn’t sure what it was meant to show, other than that Amanda had the courage of her convictions. And Rachel already knew that, didn’t she? Amanda had cut off her only son without apparent regret when he married Rachel. Not even the birth of the granddaughter Ronnie had optimistically insisted on naming after her had made a difference. And that made the legacy of the house all the more inexplicable.

“I’m going to risk putting my foot in my mouth again,” Helen said, leaning toward her. “But I believe Amanda realized, once it was too late, that she’d been wrong in the way she’d treated her son.”

Rachel studied her face, but Helen seemed genuine. “Perhaps. But she never tried to get in touch with him.”

“She wouldn’t have known how to say she was sorry. Amanda wasn’t always so rigid, you know. She changed after her husband died. Dear Ronald.” Helen sighed. “He was devoted to her, and his death was such a shock.”

“He had a heart attack, didn’t he?” Ronnie had rarely spoken of his father’s death.

Helen nodded. “Right down there at the creek.” She gestured toward the rear of the house. “And then a few years later that Amish boy drowned in practically the same spot. You probably don’t remember that, do you? Anyway, I think Amanda blamed herself that she hadn’t put up a fence. Not that that would necessarily have stopped anyone from reaching the creek if they were determined to get there....”

Helen’s voice seemed to fade as she prattled on about the dangers of the small dam on the stream behind the house, while Rachel’s memory slipped backward twenty summers. She might have forgotten the death of Ronnie’s father, but the memory of Aaron Mast was clear as crystal even though she hadn’t thought of him in years. He’d been eighteen when she was ten, and she’d had the sort of crush on him that girls now seemed to have on the latest teen pop star. His death had been devastating.

She realized Helen was eyeing her curiously and knew she’d been lost in memories too long. “I do remember Aaron, yes. I didn’t realize his accident bothered Ronnie’s mother so much though.”

“She became so strict with Ronnie after that summer.” Helen’s tone was mournful. “She was overprotective, and no boy appreciates that sort of thing. And she seemed to pin all her hopes for the future on him.”

She knew this part of the story too well. “Those hopes were ruined when he ran away with me,” she said bluntly.

“Yes, well...” Again Helen seemed to search for words. “I always thought if she’d handled it better, and frankly, dear, if your parents had, as well, things might have ended differently.”

They might not have married at all—that was what Helen meant, and Rachel was mature enough now to know that was true. If it hadn’t been for so much outspoken opposition...again, that was the past. She had to concentrate on now and on the future, for her daughter.

“I knew how Amanda felt, of course. That’s why it surprised me so much when she left Mason House to me.” Rachel let the comment lie, hoping Helen would pick it up.

“I was sure she’d do the right thing in the end,” Helen said. “She might talk of leaving everything to charity, but at bottom, she’d never consider letting Mason House go out of the family. I remember the day Jacob Evans came to have her sign her will. That’s Jacob Senior, not the son who’s in the firm now. She said she’d provided for little Amanda’s education. And she was content knowing that she’d grow up in this house. ‘There’s been enough sorrow and anger in Mason House,’ she said. ‘Maybe Ronnie’s child will bring the joy back.’”

Ronnie’s child. Of course that was how Amanda would have seen it, leaving out the woman of whom she’d disapproved so completely. There would have been no thought of Rachel in her final dispositions, except as the necessary guardian of Ronnie’s child.

Well, she’d wanted to know why Amanda had left the place to her, and now she did. She could hardly complain if the answer wasn’t to her liking.

* * *

“I’M HOME.” Colin figured the announcement was hardly needed, since Duke, Dad’s elderly black lab, had given his customary woof of welcome and padded over to receive a thump on the back.

But there was no answering call from the kitchen or the study. “Where is he, Duke?” Colin walked back the hall toward the kitchen, poking his head into the study and laundry room en route, his pulse accelerating as each place he looked turned up empty. Duke padded after him, head down, as if accepting blame for his master’s absence.

Colin opened the back door for a quick look at the yard, but his father wasn’t dusting the rose bushes or checking out the young tomato plants in the garden. Colin stood for a moment, hand gripping the knob.

Okay, think. Don’t panic. If his father had fallen somewhere in the house, Duke wouldn’t be trailing along at Colin’s heels. That meant Dad had gone out.

“Did he go for a walk without you?”

Colin must be losing track of his mental facilities himself, standing here questioning the dog as if expecting an answer. Dad was an inveterate walker, but he ordinarily took the dog with him, and that fact provided Colin with a minimal measure of assurance. If Dad forgot why he’d gone out or how to get back home, something that happened at times, Duke could be relied on to pilot him safely home.

“Stay, Duke.” Leaving the dog sitting forlornly in the living room, Colin headed out the front door. He’d take the car and do a quick spin around town. No doubt he’d find his father walking casually back from the coffee shop. There was no need for the apprehension that prickled along his skin.

Rachel would hardly credit it if she could see him now, he thought wryly. In her eyes, he was obviously still the hell-raiser who’d turned his parents’ hair gray. She’d never believe he could be as panicked over his seventy-year-old father as she must sometimes be over her nine-year-old child.

He’d nearly reached the car he’d left in the driveway when another vehicle pulled in behind his. Jake Evans, driving the battered pickup he’d had since college, came to a stop. Dad sat next to him, frowning a little with that faintly lost look he’d worn so often since Mom’s death.

“Hey, Colin.” Jake slid out, going around and opening the passenger-side door before Colin could get there. “I ran into your dad down by the antique shop and gave him a lift home.” The look he sent Colin suggested there had been more to it than that, but whatever it was would keep until his father was out of earshot.

Colin nodded, caught between gratitude and grief—gratitude that most people in Deer Run seemed to accept his father’s mental lapses with kindness, and grief that his father, always so sharp and in control, had to rely on others just to find his way home.

“Why didn’t you take Duke with you, Dad?” He attempted to take his father’s arm, but Dad pulled free with a sudden spurt of independence.

“Didn’t feel like it,” he said shortly, his lean face showing irritation. “I don’t need Duke to babysit me, you know.”

Don’t you? Colin suppressed the thought. “Maybe not, but you know how hurt he is to be left behind.” Colin turned to Jake. “You should have seen that dog when I came in, head hanging like he’d done something wrong and couldn’t figure out what it was. Come on in. There’s probably some cold beer in the fridge.”

“Sounds good.” Jake fell into step with him, his faded jeans and frayed Lafayette T-shirt an ironic comment on having been recently named one of the area’s most eligible bachelors by a regional magazine.

“So, you have to beat the ladies off with a stick since that article came out?” Colin couldn’t resist needling Jake just a little.

“I should have known better than to speak to that reporter.” Jake pulled the brim of his ball cap down as if hiding his identity. “I wouldn’t have, but the senior partner insisted it was good publicity for the law firm.”

Colin grinned, appreciating the comment for the joke it was, since the senior partner in question was Jake’s father. “You sure he’s not just trying to get you married off?”

Jake shuddered elaborately. “Please, don’t say that. He reminds me every other week that I’m not getting any younger, and my mother sighs and says that all her friends are becoming grandmothers, and why can’t she?”

Why indeed? Colin’s heart cramped at the thought of his own mother. If she’d cherished dreams of grandchildren, he’d never known it.

In a few minutes they were settled in chairs on the back porch, cold cans in hand. His father, having apologized to Duke for leaving him, walked down to inspect the garden with the dog at his heels.

“He can’t hear us. What happened?” Colin focused on the beads of moisture that formed on the can, not wanting to see the sympathy in Jake’s brown eyes.

“Nothing too bad,” Jake said easily. “I happened to be passing the antique shop when I spotted him. I figured you didn’t know where he was, so I offered to drive him home.”

He gave Jake a level glance. “There’s more, right?”

Jake shrugged. “Your dad thought he recognized a bureau as belonging to his mother. Wanted it sent home right away. If Phil Nastrom had been there, he’d have known just how to handle it, but he wasn’t. The clerk was a spotty teenager who wouldn’t know a bow-front dresser from the kitchen sink, and he was getting a bit riled. I had a word with him. That’s all.”

It took an effort to unclench his teeth. “Right. Thanks, Jake. I’ll speak to Phil.”

“No problem. And you don’t need to worry about Phil. Or any of the other old-timers in town, for that matter. They know and respect your dad.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse. “Look at him.” He gestured to his father, who was tying up a tomato plant that had sagged away from its stake. “Much of the time he’s fine. It’s bad enough that he had to give up the business. I can’t take away his freedom, and he won’t hear of having anyone else in the house to look after him.” It kept Colin awake at nights, wondering what he was going to do when his father got worse, as he inevitably would.

“It’s rough.” Jake’s voice was rough, too, with the slight embarrassment guys felt when sympathy was required. “Guess it’s part of life, reaching the point that we have to take care of the parents. It just hit you earlier than most of us.”

Colin nodded. There wasn’t much else to say, and he’d do what he had to do. Right now he’d better change the conversation. It was getting downright maudlin.

“I stopped by to visit Rachel Mason today. Have you seen her since she got back?” he asked.

“No, we did most of our business in winding up the estate via emails and phone calls.” Jake set the can down on the porch floor. “I guess either Dad or I should stop to see her, since we represented old Mrs. Mason. How is Rachel doing?”

“Okay, I guess.” Actually, he doubted it, but it seemed disloyal to say too much negative. “She’s trying to fix the house up to run it as a bed-and-breakfast. Seems to me she’d be better off selling for whatever she could get. What possessed Amanda Mason to leave her that white elephant?”

“If Amanda heard you she’d be turning over in her grave.” Jake grimaced. “There’s a gruesome thought. The woman scared me to death, I don’t mind telling you. Dad did most of the dealing with her, thank goodness. The one time he took me along to introduce me, she looked at me as if I’d crawled out from under a rock.”

“She probably remembered you as one of Ronnie’s cronies, leading her lily-white boy into trouble.”

“She saved that for you, Colin, my boy. She just generally disapproved of the younger generation, which to her was anybody born after about 1950, I figure. Rachel was probably lucky Mrs. Mason cut her and Ronnie out of her life.”

“I’m not sure Rachel sees it that way.” He studied the beer can again before taking a final gulp. “So what exactly did old Amanda leave her?”

Jake squirmed in his lawn chair. “Come on, man. You’re asking me to betray a client’s confidence.”

“The client is dead, and the will is on file in the county offices. Anybody who goes in there and pays the fee can get a look at it. You’re just saving me a trip.”

“True.” It was Jake’s turn to pick up his beer and gaze at it. “The will wasn’t very complicated. Amanda wanted to put in some harsh language about her son marrying against her wishes, yada, yada, as if anybody cared, but Dad talked her out of that as undignified. In the end, she left the house and a small sum for upkeep to Rachel, not wanting Mason House to go out of the family and be cut up for offices or torn down and turned into a mini-mart.”

“Hardly likely,” Colin commented.

“No, but that was the argument Dad used to try to get her to be fair to Rachel. Even so, the amount of money she’s to receive each year will just about cover the taxes on the place. At least the old woman listened to him about the little girl and left a tidy sum in trust for her college education. The rest went to various charities, I understand.”

“Big deal. So Mandy gets to go to college, but in the meantime she and her mother can barely scrape by. Not what I call fair.”

“Hey, don’t blame me. It’s the best Dad could do, and believe me, he had to fight for that much.” Jake looked defensive. “Why do you care so much, anyway? I know you and Ronnie were good buds in high school, but a lot of water has gone over the dam since then.”

He shrugged, having no desire to look too closely into his feelings. “No big deal. Like you said, Ronnie was a friend. I figure I owe Rachel a little support.”

He’d failed to do the right thing when he was eighteen. If he hadn’t been so intent on following that mysterious code by which teenagers lived, he might have prevented Ronnie and Rachel from a decision that had messed up several lives, as far as he could tell.

That wasn’t his only failure, of course. He was doing his best to make amends for not being here when his parents needed him. Now he had a chance to make amends to Rachel, as well, if he could figure out how. And if she would let him.