Читать книгу A Soldier's Journey - Patricia Potter - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON when Eve drove into a parking area in back of the two-story brick building she’d pointed out earlier. A sign outside identified it as the Covenant Falls Community Center.

Andy was quickly having second thoughts. Why had she agreed to Eve’s suggestion of writing a history of the town? But she had agreed to try, and she did need a job, a goal, a diversion. She needed to start living again, even if it was so damn hard.

Andy reluctantly followed Eve up the step, through the unlocked door and into a vestibule. A gray-haired, wiry man rose from a desk in a corner. She noted a Western novel on his desk.

“This is Bill Evans,” Eve said. “He manages the center. Bill, this is Andy Stuart. She moved into the cabin today. And this is Joseph.”

At the sound of his name, Joseph barked and wagged his tail.

Mr. Evans leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s a handsome fellow.” Joseph wriggled with pleasure at the attention.

Then the man straightened and held out his hand and she took it. “Real pleased to meet you,” he said. It was a firm shake, and she warmed to his friendly grin.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Bill, I wondered if you could show Andy around the center and particularly the museum,” Eve said. She turned to Andy. “It’s on our wish list to do more with it, but money is tight. I’m leaving you in good hands. I have a meeting. It seems I always have a meeting. But Bill will take good care of you. He can drive you and Joseph back to the cabin.”

“Not necessary,” Andy said. “Joseph and I can make it alone. We walked up the mountain earlier.”

“Okay, but if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call me,” Eve said, “and we’ll see you tomorrow night.” And then she was gone.

“Is she always so...busy?” she asked.

Bill Evans grinned. With his thin hair and neatly trimmed mustache, he looked to be in his late sixties. “Yes, and as a fellow vet, I feel it necessary to warn you about our mayor. She’s really good at keeping others in the same state.”

“She suggested that I try to write a short history of Covenant Falls for a brochure.”

“That’s what she suggested, huh?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Andy wasn’t sure she liked the way he said it. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem at all,” he said. “Sounds like a good idea. You a writer?”

“Nope. A nurse by training,” she admitted.

“Ah, one of the angels. I served in Vietnam and that’s the way we thought about the nurses. And the doctors. They saved my life, for sure.”

She didn’t reply. She was still pondering his previous—enigmatic—words.

He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll show you around.” He walked to the left and stood in an open door while she looked inside. “This is our library and computer center. Nate Rowland, another one of our vets, built the shelves for the books.”

Andy peered inside. Large windows were framed by cheerful drapes. Books filled shelves that lined one wall of the room. Several worn but comfortable-looking chairs were scattered in front of them. Two preschoolers were sprawled on throw rugs in front of the shelves. Several older children were browsing through books on higher shelves.

Two teenagers and an elderly woman sat in front of three of the ten computers lined up on a long table. Not wanting to disturb them, she joined Bill Evans, who was waiting in the hall.

“Nice,” she said.

“The center is all Eve’s doing. This building used to be a restaurant, and it stood here empty for nearly twenty years until Eve decided we needed a community center. She badgered the city council into making repairs with volunteer help.”

He led the way across the hall to a door and opened it. “This is our meeting room. We vets meet here every Monday night. You’re invited, of course.”

“Nate Rowland mentioned it,” Andy replied.

“You’ve met Nate? He’s a good guy. He’s the one who really started the Monday-night get-togethers. It’s helped a bunch of us, just talking about things we can’t talk to anyone else about. I hope you come. You’ll like everyone, and we need new blood. You play poker, by any chance?”

“I’ve been known to,” she replied modestly.

He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then grinned. He rambled on, “We’re not the only ones who meet here. We just claim Monday night.”

Andy admired the room. Like the other one, it had an eccentric charm. Three elderly overstuffed sofas of varying colors and design were scattered throughout the room. An equally aged television sat in a corner. A battered bar ran along the back of the room with mismatched bar chairs. Card tables and folding chairs lined one of the walls.

“I like it,” she said. “It looks...comfortable.”

“Ah, a diplomat,” he said. “It’s all donated except for the folding chairs.”

“In an odd way, everything fits,” she said. Then she remembered why she was there. “And the museum, Mr. Evans?” she prompted.

“It’s Bill. I hope I can call you Andy.”

“I would like that,” she said.

“I should warn you about the museum. We’re just beginning to put it together. We’ve been spending the past several months asking for contributions. Not money, but letters, photos, old newspapers, vintage clothing. Right now it’s just scattered pieces of our history. I’ve been going through it, but I’m no curator. In fact, I’m just a volunteer who kinda hangs around here.”

“Are you doing the sorting?” Andy asked. She was getting a suspicious feeling about this museum.

“When I have time. The library and computers came first.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to determine his role. “You take care of the library and computers, the meeting room and now the...museum, and you’re a volunteer?”

Evans looked embarrassed. “I like keeping active. I sold the general store to my nephew last year. It was a huge mistake. I was used to being busy.” He shrugged. “Retirement isn’t all it’s made out to be. Within a month, I was driving my wife and myself crazy. So this is not exactly slave labor for me,” he said with a grin. “It’s just that one thing kinda leads to another, and before you know it you’re hooked like a fish. Eve does have a way about her. Watch yourself.” He led the way up a flight of stairs to a door at the top.

“I’m only going to be here for a short time,” she said.

“I’ve heard that from your predecessors at the cabin. They’re still here.”

Despite herself, Andy was curious. And also wary. “What did they get hooked on?” she asked carefully.

“Well...quite a few things, actually.”

Andy sighed. “Eve just wants a short brochure. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Right,” he said, but there was doubt in his voice as he unlocked the door and stood aside as she entered.

Newspaper-size bound volumes sat in a pile on a table. Other tables held scrapbooks and photo albums. Unopened boxes filled another table, with even more boxes tucked underneath. She glanced through several of them: menus from the ’20s, a bill promoting a traveling circus in 1888 and several wanted posters from around the same time. Another box was filled with school pictures that looked as if they went back as far as the late nineteenth century. A stack of high school yearbooks was in the corner.

Bill Evans looked embarrassed. “We...I...really haven’t had time to look at all of it.” He brightened. “We also have a fool’s-gold nugget, along with a real one and some mining equipment. A few diaries.”

“Any of it cataloged?”

“Afraid not.”

She looked around helplessly. This wasn’t a museum. It was a disaster. An earnest disaster, maybe, but a disaster nonetheless. It would take months to find anything and more months to get the museum in shape.

“You can spend as much time as you need here,” he said.

“Maybe I could talk to...a descendant of the founder of the town...Mr. Monroe?”

“You could do that,” he allowed.

She eyed him. “What’s wrong with that?”

“He’s a bit...difficult.”

“Eve didn’t mention that,” Andy said. She tried a different possibility. “Is there a newspaper in town?”

“Yep. There’s only one now, of course, but there’s been a number throughout the years. We have bound copies of some of the editions.”

“What about talking to the editor?”

“Well, the newspaper’s been around, but the editor hasn’t. He’s only been here two years. Inherited it, and doesn’t give a damn about it or the town. He would sell it in a New York second if he could find a buyer. It’s not a very good paper.”

That wasn’t encouraging. Andy liked newspapers. In fact, she’d been addicted to them. She’d had a really strong curiosity about almost everything, although it had been dormant for the past months. She hadn’t wanted to read or hear about the Middle East or any kind of violence. It came to her too often at night.

Then she remembered what Eve had said. A Scot and a Ute princess. Gold. She’d been intrigued by the story. It was obvious now, though, that writing it would probably be more difficult than the mayor implied. Now she understood what Bill meant by a hook...

It didn’t make any difference, though. Now that she had committed to at least taking a stab at putting something together for a brochure, she wanted to get started. It was time to stop hiding from the rest of the world. And to do that, she had to join it.

Prying into the town’s history seemed a safe way of doing it. Having no goal was like looking into an abyss. She owed Jared more than that. She owed the others more than that.

She had to live for them.

But it was so damned hard.

* * *

EVE GREETED HER husband with a huge hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said. Josh Manning bent his head to her upraised face, and their lips met. She wondered if the heat would ever cool between them, prayed that it wouldn’t.

“Hey, Josh.” Nick bounded out of his room, Amos beside him and the other dogs following him. “Amos was so excited to hear your Jeep.”

“Hi, champ, thanks for taking care of him,” Josh replied as Amos pressed between them and leaned against Josh’s legs, making little crying noises.

Josh knelt down and rubbed his fur. “Sorry, guy, but you were better off here for three days.”

“How did it go?” Eve asked.

He grinned. “I have acceptances from eight in the travel industry, including two newspapers, a business magazine, the tourism bureau, several travel agencies and a freelance writer who specializes in writing about Colorado for major travel publications. I have a couple more maybes.”

“What date?

“Eight weeks from today. Clint will be back then and can give us a hand.”

Josh was talking more, and faster, than since she’d had met him nearly a year ago.

“Clint’s with the police department now,” Eve reminded him.

“I know, Mayor. But it’s the weekend, and hopefully his boss will let him off for a day then.”

“It depends on whether we have a massive crime wave.”

He grinned and kissed her again. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“The new resident of the cabin arrived.”

“Have you met her?”

“Today,” Eve said. “I like her.”

“You like everyone.”

“There’s a few exceptions.”

“Not very damn many. What is she like?”

“Quiet. Grieving. Do you know what happened...?”

“I didn’t ask and the shrink didn’t tell me. I got the impression, though, that whatever happened was pretty bad.”

She had to smile at his use of the word shrink. She knew who he meant, knew how much Josh respected Dr. Payne, but he would always be the shrink.

“She’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night,” Eve said. “I volunteered you to grill steaks. Clint will bring Stephanie. I’m debating about asking Nate.”

His face suddenly went serious. “He met her at the cabin, right?”

She nodded.

“Then, he’ll be a familiar face. Let’s ask him. Maybe he can drive her over.”

Eve stared at him. “You’re not thinking...?”

“Me? Hell, no,” he said. “You know the way I feel about interfering.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you nudging Clint and Steph together.”

“Your imagination. Now tell me more about Lieutenant Stuart.”

“She’s getting a fast indoctrination. She volunteered to write our history for the brochure. She’s going through the museum now.”

“Volunteered?”

Eve shrugged innocently. “She wanted to do something to pay for the cabin. We need a history written for your opening. It seemed...fortuitous, don’t you think?”

“Can she write?”

“I don’t know, but she said she keeps a journal and likes history. She really needed something to do. She’s lost, Josh. Really lost.”

Josh took her in his arms. “I love you, Eve Manning, you and that huge heart of yours.”

“Me, too,” Nick piped in.

Amos barked, and a chorus of sounds came from Nick’s four dogs.