Devil's Spring

by Aaron Lazar

  Daisy linked arms with her daughter. “You sure my grandbabies are okay?”

  “They’re fine, Mom. Portia and Boone are spoiling them inside.”

  “Good.” Dirk gazed up into the hills. “And what about that crazy lady you had the showdown with at Devil’s Spring?”

  “She’s staying in the hospital for observation right now. They stitched up her wound and are giving her some sort of sanity test, I guess. I don’t know the proper term for it, but they’re assessing her mental state.”

  Daisy snorted. “Doesn’t sound like it should take much to figure that out, honey.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Anyway, Agent Walsh is working out some kind of deal where she’ll go back to the home she was in before. Sort of like a permanent psych ward, I guess.”

  “How will she get there?” Daisy said.

  “I think Rocco and Rosita are driving her back in the RV, believe it or not.”

  “Seriously?” Dirk said. “What if she goes berserk again while they’re on the highway?”

  Grace twitched her thumb toward the riders. “I think these two can handle her.”

  Rocco approached on the massive bay gelding, hands wide apart as he tried to turn the horse in a circle. “Dang,” he said. “This is the best. Can I take this fella home with me?”

  Rosita approached on the dainty chestnut mare with a shy smile. “My horse likes to follow the big one.” She pointed to Spartacus and leaned down to stroke Pipsqueak’s neck. “She’s so sweet.”

  With a lilting laugh, Grace skipped toward them, taking the reins of both mounts and leading them closer to her parents. “Rosita, Rocco, meet my folks, Dirk and Daisy.”

  They exchanged hellos and the pair dismounted.

  Dirk approached them first. “I want to thank you two.” He heartily pumped Rocco’s hand and then gently squeezed Rosita’s fingers. “My daughter told us the whole story.”

  Daisy waited until they were done, then reached up to hug Rocco and did the same to Rosita. “You two will be our special guests. We have extra rooms in the bunkhouse.” She turned to Grace. “Is that where you put them up, honey?”

  Grace nodded. “They’re all settled in. I got them situated last night.”

  “Good girl.” Daisy’s thoughts turned to cooking. “So. What shall we make for dinner to celebrate?”

  Rosita gave her a shy smile. “I started a nice beef stew this morning, Miss Daisy.”

  Daisy chuckled. “Oh my goodness. That’s wonderful. I’ll have to make some biscuits to go with it. But you don’t have to call me Miss Daisy. Makes me think of the movie,” she said, laughing again. “You just call me plain ole Daisy, okay?”

  “Si,” Rosita said with a little shrug. “I can try.”

  “I’ll take the horses in to unsaddle them,” Dirk said. “You folks go ahead and do what you have to do.”

  Rosita made a face. “I think I need a shower,” she said. “I’m stinky.”

  Rocco roared a laugh. “These horses sure are fun,” he said. “But they do have a certain, um, smell to them.”

  Grace leaned over to smell Pipsqueak. “I love the smell. I’ll never get tired of it.”

  Daisy smiled. “Here on the farm we grow used to it, kind of. But why don’t you get all cleaned up and join us back in the house when you’re ready?”

  Rocco ducked his head. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  Daisy waggled a finger at him. “There will be no calling me Ma’am, either, Rocco.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She frowned at him. “Rocco.”

  “I mean yes, Daisy.” He flashed a bashful smile.

  Her heart warmed and she realized how lucky they were that this amazing heroic pair had taken responsibility to come all the way to Vermont to stop Lollie. Who else would have done such a thing? “Well, then. That’s all settled.” Daisy clapped her hands, as if dusting them off. “Come inside for bagels when you’re ready.”

  Rocco and Rosita headed for the bunkhouse and Dirk led the horses back to the barn.

  Grace took her mother’s arm and leaned on her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re home, Mom.”

  “Me, too, sweetie.” The strong August sun shone hot on the dusty ground, warming Daisy’s face. “Now let’s go see those grandbabies. I’ve missed their sweet little faces.”

  Side by side, they ambled into the old farmhouse.

  Epilogue

  Six months later, Christmas Eve

  Rosita pushed through the double doors of the Sea Breeze Sanitarium, her arms full of packages. A napkin-covered basket dangled on one elbow. The aroma of sugar cookies followed her into the building, trailed by a cold snapping wind that whistled around her ankles. It had been snowing all day, and she’d had some trouble getting up the hill to the institution where Miss Lollie resided.

  She shut the doors quickly and stopped to catch her breath. “Dios Mio! It’s a cold one.”

  The receptionist hugged herself and shuddered. “Oh my goodness, I’m freezing up here. I’m turning up the heat, and I don’t care what the owners say about conserving. Not tonight. It’s bad enough I’m working on Christmas Eve. I’ll be darned if I’m gonna freeze, too.”

  Rosita laughed and stopped at her desk. “You crank that thermostat right up there, Miss Suzie.”

  The place was decorated with twinkling colored lights and a big stuffed Santa who sat in the corner chair. White electric candles glowed on every side table, circled by wreaths of fake holly. It wasn’t exactly the way Rosita decorated her house. She liked natural things like real pine boughs and balsam wreaths. Her tree was real, too. She wasn’t going to have one of those fake white or silver trees with blue bulbs on it. No way. Her grandchildren deserved better than that.

  When Rosita was a child, her family was lucky to have whatever tree her father had dug up in the park under cover of darkness. They couldn’t afford a store-bought tree or many presents for the family of ten. She thought back to her happiest Christmas, when she received a long white box filled with red, pink, and yellow hair ribbons. She’d been eight, and she still had a few of those ribbons in her jewelry box.

  She handed Suzie a little box. “This is for you,” she said. “It’s not much, but I wanted to thank you for always being so nice to me and Miss Lollie.”

  Suzie flushed bright red. “Oh my goodness, Rosita. I never expected…I didn’t get you anything!” She tore into the box and gasped when she opened it. A simple shell sat on a white cotton pillow. Shellacked so the colors glowed, Rosita had written “Noel” on it with a glitter pen.

  “It isn’t much. All my gifts are homemade,” Rosita said apologetically.

  “It is absolutely gorgeous,” Suzie said, gushing. “I’ll treasure it forever.” She took it out carefully and placed it on her desk. “There. It’ll always have a place of honor, and I’ll display it every Christmas.”

  Rosita continued down the hall, where she poked her head into Dr. Worthy’s office. “Hello? Anyone home?”

  Dr. Worthy sat behind his desk, frowning down at a bologna sandwich. “Oh, hello Rosita. Merry Christmas.”

  She took a few steps inside. “I brought you something.”

  He looked up, astonishment washing over his features. “What? Me?”

  She placed a small plastic container on the table. “It’s cookies. Since you got no one at home to cook for you on Christmas, I figured you might like some.”

  To her absolute shock, Dr. Worthy rose from his chair, opened his arms, and took her into a big hug. “Gracias, Rosita. And Feliz Navidad. That’s how you say it, right?”

  She laughed and backed out of the door. “Si. But I say Merry Christmas now. I’m an American, and I’ve lived here longer than I lived in Mexico. But thank you, anyway.”

  When she reached the common room where Lollie usually sat and rocked facing the sea, she stopped for a moment in the doorway. The usual patients gathered around card tables or hunkered in front of the television. A few looked up and smiled at her.
>
  Probably waiting for cookies.

  Lollie sat in front of the fake Christmas tree on the couch beside Rocco. Her eyes shone when she saw Rosita in the doorway.

  “Merry Christmas!” she shouted. As if she were six years old, she raced to Rosita’s side. “What did you bring me? Presents? Oh, I love presents.”

  “Yes, Miss Lollie. But you have to go back and sit down to open them, okay?”

  Lollie giggled and obeyed, settling back down beside Rocco.

  He sat back and watched, his big face passive. Then—as if he couldn’t help himself—he broke into a wry grin. “Hey there, Rosita. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said. “You stuck at work again during the holidays?”

  “Double time and a half this year,” he said. “Already put in over forty hours this week. I’ll need it to pay for all the presents I bought my grandkids.”

  Rosita rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I know how you feel. I’m broke now for the next three months.”

  Lollie jiggled her knees up and down. “Do we have to talk? Or can I open my gifts?”

  With a patient smile, Rosita handed her a red foil-wrapped box with a huge white bow in the center. “Here you go, Miss. I hope you like this one.”

  Lollie tore into the gift like most rich people did—without caring to save the paper or bow for another day. Rosita always recycled her wrapping paper and bows, and especially expensive foil wrapping like this. But she just gave a little sigh and didn’t say a word. This was Lollie’s special night and she wanted to make it fun for her. After all, she still made her living tending to the empty mansion. And that salary helped them keep the house where the whole family lived together.

  “Oh, Rosita!” She drew a dark blue plush bathrobe out of the box, rubbing it on her cheeks and sighing. “Oh my gosh. It’s just beautiful.” She stood, stripped off the yellow robe she’d worn nearly every day since she was admitted to The Sea Breeze Home the past summer, and slid her arms into the new garment. “I feel so special,” she murmured, stroking the fabric. “Oh. Thank you, Rosita.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Lollie. You look very pretty. Now, here’s another. Be careful. It’s delicate.”

  The dark green wrap was encircled with shiny purple ribbons. Rosita figured why not go a little crazy with colors on Christmas? Wasn’t that how it worked on this holiday?

  Lollie took more time with this one, slowing down the process. She slid her fingernail under the folded wrap on one end, then the other. Carefully, she slid the box out of its paper.

  “Careful, now,” Rosita said again.

  “Okay.” Lollie practically squealed the word. She lifted the cardboard cover. “Oh!” With care, she lifted each unique shell from the cotton nest.

  “I picked up those from the beach for you every day on my walk, Miss Lollie. I know you miss walking down there, so I thought maybe this would make you happy.”

  “They’re so shiny!” Lollie squeaked, holding one at a time up to the light.

  “I sprayed them with a clear coating so you can see the colors better,” Rosita said. “My grandchildren helped me decide which ones to give you.”

  “I love them,” Lollie gushed. “I can put them on my bureau in my room and think of the sea every day.”

  “I’m glad you like them,” Rosita said. “Now, one more gift for you.”

  She handed her a square white box wrapped in frilly red ribbons. “But this one you have to promise to have just a little every day. Okay?”

  Lollie nodded, still excited. “Okay.” She untied the red ribbons and lifted the cover. “Oh my gosh.” Tears formed in her eyes. “You remembered. Rock candy.”

  The box brimmed with six strings of crystal rock candy. Beneath them lay an assortment of penny candy Rosita had picked out at the local country store.

  “Now look underneath. See all the different types? Fireballs. Candy necklaces. Juicy fruit gum.”

  Lollie pored through the candy as if it were gold. “Oh, my. Oh, yes.” With a start, she glanced over at an elderly woman who’d shuffled up and stared at the box. “Go away, Hilda. You can’t have my Christmas candy.”

  Rosita put a hand on her arm. “Now, Lollie. Why don’t we offer Hilda a cookie? I made you plenty.” She opened the biggest tin and held it out to Hilda. “Would you like one?”

  “Mine.” Hilda snatched a Snickerdoodle and ran away, holding it protectively to her breast with both hands.

  “You didn’t say thank you!” Lollie yelled.

  “That’s okay. Next time,” Rocco said. “Social graces aren’t Hilda’s thing these days.”

  Lollie eyed the last box on Rosita’s lap. “There’s one more present,” she said.

  “This one’s for Rocco,” Rosita said, handing it to him. “Just a little something to thank him for being so good to you all these months.”

  Rocco accepted the box wrapped in gold foil, turning it over in his hands. “For me?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a little something I picked up on the beach for you.”

  Before he opened his present, he reached into his jacket and drew out a shiny green and red envelope decorated with Christmas tree stickers. “I have something for you, too.”

  Rosita’s eyebrows shot up. “Eh?”

  “For you.” Rocco handed it to Rosita.

  Lollie stared at the gifts, and then slapped her hands on the coffee table. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Rocco chuckled and opened his gift. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in here.” He drew out a necklace with a glossy black stone encased in a silver setting. “Oh, my,” he whispered. “This is not just something you found on the beach, Rosita. This is too much.”

  Rosita’s eyes filled. “The chain is sterling silver, and it belonged to my husband, Pablo. He used to have a milagro, or good luck charm, attached to the bottom. I gave the charm to my son, who keeps it on his keychain.”

  “Wait. Is that the son whose truck we basically stole? The one that we towed all the way back from Vermont to Maine?”

  “Yes. He got it running again, by the way.” She reached over to stroke the black stone. “But this stone is very special. It is perfectly round, and I found it on the beach the same day I got my job with Lollie, many years ago. I have always thought of it as a good luck charm, my own milagro. I touch it every morning when I get up and say a little prayer.” She paused, meeting his eyes. “And now, I want you to have it.”

  Rocco’s face froze for a minute. He blinked, and emotion played over his features. His lower lip trembled, ever so slightly. He reached for Rosita’s hand and held it. “Thank you. I’ll wear it every day.” He fastened it around his neck and smoothed it over his chest. “There. Now it’s your turn, lady.”

  Rosita flushed. “What is it?” She opened the envelope and withdrew a Christmas card covered in white sparkles and hand-drawn reindeer.

  “My granddaughter and I made that,” he said proudly. “Isn’t she a good artist?”

  Rosita admired the work and smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Open it,” he said. “There’s something inside.”

  Two tickets fell out of the card. She picked them up. “Oh, what are these for?”

  Rocco pointed to the writing on the back. “They’re for the theater in town for next weekend. It’s supposed to be a really good show. A murder mystery.” He lowered his eyes and spoke softly. “The way I see it, Rosita, you are always doing for others. You never have a break, at work, or at home. So these here tickets are for you to take someone—anyone—out for a night on the town. It could be one of your children, grandkids, or a girlfriend. And there’s also a voucher in there for dinner at La Belle Flamingo. You know, that new place in the village? S’posed to be real good.”

  Rosita’s hands shook. “This is too much, Rocco. I can’t accept it.”

  His face dropped. “You can’t?”

  She locked eyes with him. “Unless you come wit
h me.”

  His lips spread into a broad smile. “I thought you’d never ask, lady.”

  Lollie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Well, for crying out loud. Hug each other, already.”

  And they did.

  --The end--

  Devil’s Lake

  Bittersweet Hollow, book 1

  Two years ago, Portia Lamont disappeared from a small town in Vermont, devastating her parents and sister, who spent every waking hour searching for her. When she suddenly shows up on their horse farm in a stolen truck with a little mutt on her lap, they want to know what happened. Was she taken? Or did she run away?

  2015 Finalist Readers’ Favorites Awards

  2015 Semi-finalist in Kindle Book Review Awards

  Reviews

  You’ve just read Devil’s Spring, book 3 in the Bittersweet Hollow series. If you enjoyed it, I hope you’ll consider leaving a review on Amazon. It doesn’t have to be long or fancy—just a few lines about what you liked best or how the book made you feel is perfectly fine.

  Authors really do read the reviews and love to hear what their readers think and feel about the characters, the story, or the writing. It’s validating, especially if you enjoy what we work so hard to produce!

  Thanks in advance for taking a few minutes to write a review ;o)

  - Aaron Paul Lazar

  What’s Next?

  If you enjoyed this novel, you might like Devil’s Lake and Devil’s Creek, set in the same locale with the same characters. And if you enjoy the style of these books, check out my other books at http://www.lazarbooks.com.

  - Aaron Paul Lazar

  -

  Please scroll down to read an excerpt from Devil’s Lake.

  Chapter 1

  Portia hauled on the wheel and dragged the old truck around a sharp corner, wincing when the engine popped and belched black smoke. The beat-up Chevy had been running rough since she left the highway an hour ago.

  Come on, keep going. Just a few more miles.