Читать книгу Shadow of Turning - Valerie Hansen - Страница 11

Chancy pulled up the winding, dusty drive and stopped her van in front of the two-story Collins farmhouse. It was a relic of a bygone era with the same kind of charm as the quaint antiques that filled her shop.

Hester had planted tall, colorful hollyhocks along a southwest-facing wall. The pale pink peonies were almost ready to flower and clematis vines had begun to creep up the archway framing the access to the front door. Soon after the peonies were done, an enormous hydrangea bush next to the raised porch would begin to droop under the weight of mop-head flowers in varying shades of pink and lavender. The overall effect was charmingly reminiscent of picture postcards prevalent in the forties and fifties.

Before Nate was fully out of the van his grandmother came dashing off the porch with a screech of delight and gathered him up in an ample welcoming hug. “I’m so proud you’re here!”

Blushing, he nevertheless returned her affectionate embrace. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Well, come in, come in.” She smiled at Chancy. “You, too, girl. Get out and come on in. You’re always welcome.”

“Thanks, Miss Hester. But right now I’ve got more stuff to pick up from the auction. Nate said we might be able to borrow your farm truck to haul it, if you don’t mind.”

The old woman’s gray eyebrows arched above the frames of her glasses and her smile widened as she looked from Chancy to Nate and back again. “’Course not. You two just go right ahead and take the truck. I’m glad to hear that some of poor Jewel’s precious things found a good home. Ted didn’t want me to go to the sale and I suppose he was right, I just wish…”

Breaking off, she glanced at the porch where her husband lounged in a white-painted rocking chair with the shaggy, black-and-white dog lying at his feet.

“If there’s anything in the van you fancy I’ll be glad to save it for you,” Chancy offered.

“I know it’s foolishness to value earthly possessions. Still…” Hester stood on tiptoe to peer in at the collection Chancy had amassed. “If I had just one special thing to remember Jewel by, it would do this old heart good.”

Nate spoke up. “We really should be getting back to the auction. Chancy left a big pile of stuff and we don’t want it to walk off while she’s gone.”

“’Course you don’t.” Hester backed away from the van. “You go on, now. I don’t need nothin’.”

Nate had replaced the short stack of framed pictures and photos on the passenger seat when he’d gotten out. Chancy leaned over, gathered them up and passed them to Hester through the open window. “Here. Look through these and keep all you want. I know there are several nice pictures of Pete and Jewel in the pile. I just bought them for the old frames.”

“Bless your sweet little heart,” Hester said with tears in her eyes. “What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” Chancy replied. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Then you have to come back for supper tonight. I fixed Nate’s favorite. Pot roast. We’ll eat as soon as y’all are done haulin’ and unloadin’.”

The look she shot her flabbergasted grandson allowed no argument so he immediately swallowed his objections and formally backed her up. “Yes. Please join us. I know you must be too tired to go home and cook.”

“That’s the truth,” Chancy said. “All right. I’ll be happy to come for supper. Thanks for asking.”

As Nate turned and headed for the pickup truck, he was shaking his head. Somehow, his well-thought-out plans for a serious talk with his grandparents had been sidetracked big-time. Well, it couldn’t be helped now. All he could hope for at this point was a peaceful meal and not too much inane conversation.

He snorted in self-deprecation. Anybody who recalled his detested nickname from a good fifteen years ago was probably full of colorful remembrances about his escapades as a wild teen; events he hoped his grandparents had either forgiven or forgotten. Or both.

The first thing he was going to have to do was win over Chancy Boyd and ask her not to make any embarrassing references to his past. The best way to ensure that, he reasoned, was to help her haul her auction purchases in Ted’s truck and then also offer to unload them.

It wasn’t a task Nate particularly relished volunteering for but in his view, some serious PR work was called for.

The auction was over and traffic had thinned by the time Chancy and Nate arrived back at the Hawkins place so they were easily able to find parking places. She drove past the closest one and left it for him so they could more efficiently load the truck.

Gesturing and pointing as she walked back toward him she called, “Over there. By that lilac bush. That whole pile is mine.”

“Wow. When you shop you don’t kid around, do you?”

Chancy had to chuckle at his astounded expression in spite of the fact she felt the same way when she looked at the enormous stack of bags and boxes. “Nope. When they group items like they did, it’s almost more trouble than it’s worth. Still, every once in a while I discover I’ve bought something really rare or valuable that I didn’t even know was there.”

“I hardly know where to start picking this up.”

“I know what you mean.” Pausing, hands fisted on her hips, Chancy scowled as she perused the haphazard pile of merchandise.

“What’s the matter?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know. It looks kind of messy, like somebody stirred it.”

“How in the world would you know?”

“I suppose you’re right. It just seems worse than it was when I put it here.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Just grab any old box and let’s start stacking them in your truck. I don’t think there’s anything breakable. All the glass and china is already in my van.”

“Gotcha.” He grinned at her. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”

“You can drop the fake Southern charm,” Chancy said, mirroring his amiable expression. “Just keep up the Southern gentleman act for a while longer and I’ll be satisfied.”

Nate passed her carrying a precarious-looking stack of tattered cardboard boxes. “What makes you think it’s an act? Maybe I’m a true Southern gentleman. After all, Ted’s my granddad and you already said you liked him.”

Laughing lightly, she gathered up an armload of old blankets and quilts and followed Nate. “That’s true. And kinship is very important around here.”

After she’d unceremoniously crammed the blankets into the pickup bed, they started back to the main pile together. “Lots of young people leave the Ozarks, thinking things must be better in faraway places, then find out otherwise and come home again,” Chancy observed. “Is that what your parents did?”

“No. Dad never wanted to come back here to live. My mother was city born and bred. She viewed life on the farm as one step out of the Stone Age. Never would even agree to visit after the first time.”

“That’s too bad. No wonder you didn’t fit in very well when you came to stay with Ted and Hester.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Nate said seriously as they continued to work. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of the trouble I had when I was here before.”

“Why not? I remember thinking that the local boys were treating you terribly. If it had been me, I’d have gotten mad and socked a few of them in the nose long before you did.”

“Just the same. Please?”

“Sure.” Chancy shrugged as she scooped up several paper grocery sacks containing odd bits of fabric and yarn. “No problem. I won’t breathe a word.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Just stick the rest of that stuff in the truck. I’ll go put these bags in the front of the van so the little pieces don’t blow all over town and then you can follow me to the shop. Okay?”

“Sure. One more trip and I’ll have it all.”

“Good. I…” Her jaw dropped. Thunderstruck, she blinked and scanned the street as if positive she’d simply made a mistake. Unfortunately, there was no mistake. “I don’t believe it!”

Nate paused beside her with the last of the boxes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“My van,” Chancy said breathlessly. “It’s gone.”

“What are you talking about? It can’t be gone. We were right here the whole time.”

“I wasn’t watching it, were you?”

“Well, no, but…” He scowled at her. “You didn’t leave the keys in it, did you?”

“Of course I did. I always do. My logo is all over the side. Who in his right mind would take a vehicle so easy to identify?”

“Obviously somebody who didn’t think that far ahead.” Nate reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a cell phone and tried to hand it to her. “Here. Call the police.”

Chancy snorted derisively. “Right now, I think there are two sheriff’s cars in the whole county and only one deputy besides the sheriff, himself. What makes you think reporting the theft would do any good?”

“Okay. Then, what do you suggest?”

“We chase them.”

“Chase them? How? We don’t have any idea which way they went.”

“Well, it’s better than just standing here staring at each other while my van gets farther and farther away, isn’t it?”

Nate sighed heavily. “Get in the truck.” He grabbed the bags from her arms and tossed them into the bed with the other auction purchases. “Like you said, it’ll be easy to ID your van, assuming we can catch up to it.”

Chancy didn’t see any better options. If whoever had taken her van intended to sell its contents, there would be no way to prove ownership once all that furniture was dispersed. And if the van itself was the target of the theft it could be repainted and sold or parted out. She needed her van for work. Desperately. Without it, she might as well quit the antique business.

Piling into the front seat of the pickup beside Nate, she slammed the door. “Okay, I’m in. Floor it.”

Chancy didn’t know how much stuff was blowing or bouncing out of the bed of the truck as they careened around corners and bumped through potholes but she didn’t care. They could always backtrack and clean up any mess later. Right now, she had other goals.

Nate skidded to a halt at the stop sign by the post office, where Byron Road intersected with Highway 62. Chancy had to brace herself against the dusty dashboard to stay on the seat.

“Which way?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Just drive.”

“That’s stupid. We won’t accomplish a thing if we wrap this truck around a tree. You live here. Think. Where would you go if you wanted to hide a van with a big logo on it?”

“Are you kidding? There are dozens of dirt roads all over this county. Any one of them would do.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone?”

He handed it over without argument. “Are you finally going to be sensible and call the sheriff?”

“Yes, and no,” she said. “The first thing I’m going to do is start the prayer chain from my Sunday-school class.”

“What good will that do?”

Chancy huffed. “Plenty. Besides the value of prayer itself, it’ll give us lots more eyes all over town. Nothing gets past those women. They all know me. If my van is near any of their houses, we’ll hear about it.”

“Ah, the small-town spy network. Why didn’t I think of that?”

She couldn’t resist making a joke in spite of the trying situation. “Because you’re not from around here.” The way Nate’s dark eyebrows arched over his narrowed brown eyes almost made her laugh.

Only one phone number came to mind immediately so Chancy dialed it, hoping desperately that her friend was at home. It rang twice before she heard a cheery “Hello.”

“Louella!” Thank You, God. “This is Chancy. My van’s been stolen and I want you to pass the word to everybody as fast as you can.”

“Where are you? What happened?” the other woman asked.

“It’s a long story. I was at the Hawkins auction and somebody drove off with all my stuff. Tell everybody I can be reached at…” She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Nate. “What’s the number of this phone?” He told her and she repeated it to Louella.

“That’s not your regular number is it?”

“No.” Chancy made a face and glanced sideways at Nate, knowing what he’d think and wishing she didn’t have to explain when he could overhear. “My purse was in the van with my keys. I’ve lost my phone, my wallet, my checkbook, everything.”

“Oh, you poor thing. I’ll telephone the girls right away. Want me to call the sheriff, too?”

“Yes, please,” Chancy said. “I’ll be at the number I gave you. Please hurry.”

Nate waited till she’d hung up before he commented. “You really are amazing.”

“Why? Because I’m dumb enough to let some lowlife drive off with my whole life?”

“No, because you’re trusting enough to leave things sitting around in the first place. My grandparents refuse to listen to me and lock their doors at night, but that’s not nearly as bad as leaving keys in an ignition.”

“The keys were in this truck when we borrowed it,” she reminded him. “You have to understand how safe it normally is in a place like Serenity. We don’t have a lot of crime here. It’s like living in a bygone era.”

“Even the Old West had crime,” Nate countered.

“True. I guess I just figured the good Lord would look after my stuff.” She could tell by his expression that he thought she was seriously deluded.

“I should have known,” he said. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that your God-given brain was meant to be used for something besides a place to grow hair?”

“I’ve never heard it put quite like that but, yes, I guess I do bear some of the responsibility.”

“Some of it? You bear all of it.”

She flinched. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

It didn’t surprise her much when he replied, “Well, I sure would.”

Nate felt as helpless as a feather caught in one of the tornadoes he was so fond of chasing. They had covered most of the town and were working in widening circles to survey the outlying countryside. It had occurred to him earlier that they were on a wild goose chase but he kept hoping they’d spot Chancy’s missing van just the same.

Finally, he pulled over and stopped on the unpaved shoulder of the road. “Look. I’m sorry. This isn’t doing any good and we both know it.” It bothered him to see her shoulders slump with such dejection.

She sighed noisily. “I suppose you’re right. What time is it, anyway?”

“Nearly seven.” Looking at his watch he remembered their promise to his grandparents. “Uh-oh. I think we’d better call Grandma and tell her what’s going on. She’s probably still waiting on us for supper.”

“Oh, no. Poor Hester. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about anything but myself.”

“She’ll understand.” Nate pulled out the phone and pushed the button to speed dial.

“It’s me,” he said when Ted answered. “Chancy and I got hung up. We’re sorry if we put you out. Her van was stolen and we’ve been driving around looking for it.”

“Stolen?” The older man was incredulous.

“Yes, stolen. Right out from under our noses. One minute it was there and the next minute it was gone. We have no idea who took it or why but we thought maybe we could spot it if we drove around for a while.”

“Where did you see it last?” Ted asked.

“At the auction. Why?”

“Hold on. I thought I saw some activity over at the Hawkins place a few minutes ago. I’m gonna walk out on the porch for a second and take a closer look.”

Nate scowled while he waited. Patience had never been one of his virtues and he hated being put on hold, even for the short time it would take his grandfather to accomplish whatever was on his mind.

Ted returned with a question. “Where are you?”

“Over on the highway near Hickory Station. Why?”

“Well, I suggest you hightail it back here. Everybody else is gone but it appears to me that light brown van of hers is sittin’ smack-dab in front of the Hawkins place.”

“It can’t be.”

Ted guffawed. “Oh, yeah? Sure looks like it. ’Course, I could be mistaken. It’s a ways over there and it’s gettin’ dark so I can’t see real clear. Still, it might pay you to come on back and have a look-see.”

“Thanks. Keep your eye on it till we get there. We’re on our way.”

He glanced at the worried young woman sitting next to him and answered her unspoken question. “My granddad thinks he sees your van back at the Hawkins place. I don’t know how that can possibly be but he sounds pretty certain.”

“Praise the Lord!” Chancy was clapping her hands and grinning from ear to ear. “The prayer chain worked again.”

Nate huffed as he whipped the truck around and floored the accelerator. As far as he was concerned there had to be a sensible explanation for whatever had happened. Just because he couldn’t see the details of it didn’t mean he was ready to resort to giving credit to prayer or anything else unseen. It was far more likely that kids had taken the van joyriding, had had an attack of conscience and had decided to bring it back before they got in trouble with the law. It was just the kind of adolescent folly that had gotten him into trouble as a teen.

He considered expressing his opinion on the matter then decided against it. Although he did concede the probability of a Creator, he wasn’t willing to believe that God cared about the minute details of everyday life on earth.

He caught her peering at him. “What?”

“You don’t believe in prayer, do you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Wow.” She settled back against the seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery for a while before she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No problem. You’re entitled to your beliefs.”

“And you’re entitled to yours. I guess I’ve just lived in the Bible Belt for so long I forgot there were folks who didn’t think the same way I do.” She paused. “What brought you back to Serenity, anyway? Are you just visiting?”

“Not exactly,” Nate said. It seemed the perfect opportunity to draw her into his confidence and enlist her aid so he said, “I came to talk some sense into my grandparents. I want them to move to Oklahoma.”

Her eyes widened. “Whatever for?”

“For their own good,” Nate said flatly. “I have the perfect place already picked out between Oklahoma City and Norman, where I work. They’ll have everything money can buy and they won’t have to lift a finger. They’ll love it. And I’ll be close enough to look in on them more often.”

He noted that Chancy was staring at him as if he’d suddenly grown two heads or sprouted horns, so he said, “I take it you disagree?”

“Oh, yeah,” she drawled. “That’s a real understatement.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Because it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, that’s why.”

Nate couldn’t help giving her a lopsided smile. “Hey, don’t hold back,” he taunted. “Tell me what you really think.”