by Lori Wick
“It looks like one from Boston and one from my sister.”
“You didn’t read them?”
“They’re not to me.” Jace’s voice was dry, and Maddie began to smile. “Yes, you go right ahead and laugh about it. A woman gets ready to have a baby, and suddenly her husband is invisible.”
Maddie didn’t laugh, but she did have to cover her mouth with one hand.
“I’ve heard of husbands getting jealous about babies,” she teased him.
“What husband?” he asked with great exaggeration. “I don’t exist, remember? At Doyle and Cathy’s yesterday, all you and your aunt could talk about was baby stuff.”
“Well, Doyle was there.”
“He fell asleep in the chair,” Jace reminded her.
“So did you,” Maddie pointed out.
“There’s only so many hours I can hear debates on first foods and scalp treatment.”
Maddie had to laugh then. She put her arms around her husband and laughed against his chest.
“I’m not sensing any real sympathy here, Mrs. Randall.”
“Does this help?” she asked, composing herself long enough to kiss him.
“Maybe a little,” Jace’s arms had come up to hold her.
Maddie kissed him again, and Jace pulled her even closer. His fingers were making a mess of her hair when they heard a door downstairs.
“I forgot Clara was coming today,” Jace whispered.
“I forgot too.”
Arms wrapped around each other, Jace planned to revisit this scene right after tea that evening. Maddie was working to be thankful that she had Clara’s help, even when it meant the occasional interruption.
Lillie found her feet slowing as she approached the bank building. She had lost a lot of sleep over this decision and was suddenly finding it harder to accomplish than think about.
Not knowing what she expected Mr. Thaden to do, she remembered that so far he had been compassionate. Lillie felt she was betraying Victor but also felt she had no choice. Gathering her courage, she made herself go inside. Asking Mr. Leffler if she could speak to the men in the alcove, Lillie worked to keep calm.
“I didn’t think you would ever come outside,” Gerald spoke to Reese from out of nowhere and startled her into dropping her basket.
“Where did you come from, Gerald?” Reese exclaimed, fighting the irritation she felt, even though none of the clothing had spilled into the dirt.
“You didn’t see me?” He looked pleased with the thought.
“Gerald,” Reese kept her voice patient. “Nothing has changed. I’m working.”
“I know a secret,” Gerald boasted, having ignored Reese’s words.
“That’s nice,” Reese acknowledged, not wanting to patronize him but heading out to hang up the shirts she’d scrubbed, not caring if he followed or not.
“Aren’t you even a little bit curious?” Gerald asked, trailing her.
“A little, I guess,” Reese said absently, pegging out wash as she went.
“My father was here last night.”
Reese turned to look at her visitor, knowing he would be pleased to have gained her attention.
“Is he all right?” Reese asked, not really knowing what happened.
“Of course.” Gerald’s voice held more bluster than he felt. In fact his father’s voice had scared him last night, but he would never tell Reese that.
“Is he at the bank today?” Reese asked.
“No, but he will be soon. You know he’s the best bank manager this town has ever had.”
Reese didn’t know that, but neither did she argue.
“Well, I’m sure Mr. Kingsley will be happy about that. They only came to check on the bank and see how it was doing.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong!” Gerald stated emphatically, some agitation coming to the surface.
“Gerald, I never said he did.”
The young man felt foolish then. Last time he left, he had left in anger, and he didn’t want to do that again, but he didn’t know any other way out of the conversation.
As it was, Reese didn’t know what to think. She watched Gerald move off, not sure what had just happened. The only thing she was certain of at the moment was that she needed to stay here at the house until the bank closed and tell the men about Gerald’s announcement.
The men were in deep conversation as they walked home. Neither of them noticed Reese standing at the parlor window watching them come up the walk, but when they opened the door, she was standing in the hall waiting for them.
“I’m sorry to be here so late,” Reese began, feeling she needed to apologize. “But something happened today with Gerald Jenness, and I thought I should tell you.”
“That’s fine.” Conner was the one to speak up. “Go ahead.”
“He said his father was in town, but he wasn’t at the bank. I asked if he was all right, and Gerald said yes. I then said something that made Gerald think I was accusing his father, and he became very upset. He left in a huff.”
“Did he say where his father is now?” Troy asked.
“No, but he insisted that his father was the best bank manger Tucker Mills has ever had, and he would be back in the bank soon.”
“Thank you, Reese,” Troy said, thinking about the fact that Mrs. Jenness was under the impression that her son knew nothing of his father’s visit. “We appreciate your staying to tell us.”
Reese nodded and started toward the kitchen, which led to the stairway she used to come and go.
“Did you have more work you have to do, Reese?” Conner stepped close enough to ask.
“No, I was just leaving.”
“Do you have something to collect at the side door?”
“No.”
Conner used a thumb to point behind him. “Use the front door.”
Reese hesitated.
“Use it all the time,” he pressed further. “Use it every time you come and go.”
“Why?” she finally managed to ask.
“Because I want you to.”
Reese looked stubborn. She just didn’t know if this was the right thing.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Conner watched her carefully as he spoke. “You tell me what the V stands for, and you can use any door you like.”
Reese’s chin went instantly into the air. She marched to the front door, glanced back long enough to find both men smiling, and sailed outside.
Conner laughed, looking at the door for several moments. When he glanced over at Troy, that man had an odd look on his face.
“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, do I?” the younger man asked.
“Probably not,” Troy smiled before admitting. Conner let the matter drop so both men could enjoy their tea.
“Hey, Troy,” Conner said, opening that man’s door after they both turned in. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
Troy listened as Conner entered the room.
“Something just occurred to me.”
“About what?”
“Jenness. What if we’re not dealing with a sane man? What if the things his wife described are pointing to the fact that he’s no longer in his right mind, if he ever was?”
“What made you think along that line? I mean, you’ve never even met the man.”
“Believe it or not, the layout of the alcove. We’re not finding anything amiss in the files. His business dealings were completely legal, but the way he had those bookshelves arranged makes me think of someone very insecure. Someone who wants privacy but not because he’s up to something.
“That and the fact that he left the bank in a panic and has not even tried to reclaim his job, not to mention return to his family. It just makes sense to me that something might have set him off that day, something his mind cannot handle.”
“You have a very interesting point. I hadn’t thought about it from that view because he seemed so normal.”
“But not when he left,” Conner reminded him. “What you described t
o me was a man on the edge, who’d just been pushed.”
“But there was no evidence of that beforehand,” Troy thought out loud, “which makes your theory completely believable.”
Conner didn’t say anything. For a moment, both men silently worked the details through their minds.
“I’ll let you sleep,” Conner said around a yawn.
“I’m going to need it,” Troy agreed, thinking that Conner’s prognosis was entirely plausible but unsettling nonetheless.
Reese had shopping to do. Kitchen supplies in the big house were running a bit low, so she headed out first thing Thursday morning. She started at Shephard Store, a list in hand, along with a large basket.
Her mind was completely on the list, so much so in fact that when Mr. Somer suddenly appeared in front of her ready to talk about his latest ailment, Reese had to force her mind to the moment.
“It’s my back today,” he revealed, and Reese did her best to listen. “Acted up first thing this morning, right out of bed. I would have blamed it on the eggs my wife made, but it happened before then.”
“Eggs bother your back?” Reese had to ask; she’d not heard this.
“It can happen,” he said before opening his mouth to add more. Reese bent a little, trying to hear him, when she realized that his eyes looked a little surprised.
“Mr. Somer?” Reese called, but he only stared at her.
“What is it, Reese?” Doyle had heard her tone and was coming their way.
“Mr. Somer?” Reese tried again, but by now he was beginning to fall.
Doyle caught the smaller man as he began to crumple and laid him gently on the floor. Reese bent over him, feeling his neck for a pulse, the way she’d seen Doc do it, her own pulse pounding with fear.
“Go for Doc!” Doyle shouted to a customer, and Reese tried talking to the little man, whom no one ever believed to be truly ill.
“Mr. Somer, can you wake up? Can you hear me? It’s Reese. You were telling me about your back. Mr. Somer, wake up now.”
Reese thought she felt a pulse, so she whipped her apron off and balled it up to go under his head. He looked a little more normal then, but his color was very bad, and Reese begged God to send Doc in a hurry.
It felt like forever. Doc did not push Reese aside but knelt opposite her and began to check on the patient.
“What happened?” he asked while he worked, and Reese told him what she’d seen.
“What’s wrong with him, Doc?” Doyle bent over the three of them and asked.
“His heart, I think. I can’t make him comfortable on this floor, Doyle. We need to get him home.”
“I’ll get the wagon.”
It never once occurred to Reese to do anything but accompany Mr. Somer and the doctor to the Somers’ home. She sat in the back of the wagon, her apron still in use, and went to the door to warn Mrs. Somer when they arrived.
The news shook that lady, but she kept her head and swiftly prepared the bed that was in the small room off their kitchen. Doc MacKay and Opal Berglund’s oldest son, Harry, who had been in the store, carried him from the wagon directly to the bed.
Reese made her way to the kitchen, where she could see that Mrs. Somer had been readying wax for candles. Reese put water on for tea and kept out of the way. Beyond that she prayed, hoping that if she was called on to do more, she would know what to do and when.
It was unusual for the men to arrive home for dinner and not have aromas wafting through the house the moment they stepped in the front door. Nevertheless, they didn’t jump to conclusions but waited until they were in the dining room and then the kitchen before facing facts: Reese had not made dinner. A pie sat on the table, one they were sure was for dinner, but nothing else was ready.
“Will we get in trouble if we eat the pie?” Conner asked, always starved by noon.
“I don’t think so,” Troy reasoned, already looking for plates and forks. “I’m sure she meant it for dinner.”
Conner’s piece was gone with amazing speed, but he didn’t go for another one. He grabbed a slice of bread from the loaf they’d had for breakfast, not even bothering with the butter.
“I’m going to search the house and then head through town,” Conner mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
“For Reese?”
“Yes. Stay here in case she comes back.”
Troy helped him search the house but then did as Conner asked. He planted himself back in the kitchen and tried to make a meal from what he could find.
“Here, Mrs. Somer,” Reese offered. “I made some tea.”
“Thank you, Reese,” she said, still shaking a little. Reese held the chair for her to sit down.
“How does Doc think he’s doing?”
“He’s not sure right now. His breathing is strong, but he’s not waking up.” The tired and worried woman suddenly reached for Reese’s hand. “You were there, Reese! What happened?”
“He was talking to me about his back hurting, and then he slowly collapsed. Doyle caught him and put him on the floor.”
Mrs. Somer bit her lip. “He always says he’s sick, but he never is. He’s never been sick a day that I’ve known him. His mother was like this, and I think he thought it was his place to carry on the tradition.”
Reese smiled at the description just as someone knocked at the door.
“I’ll go,” Reese offered and was surprised to find Conner Kingsley on the front porch.
“Mr. Kingsley.” Reese looked as surprised as she was. “What brings you to the Somer home?”
“You,” he stated calmly, and Reese slipped outside to speak with him. She then realized the time.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get your dinner.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m making sure you’re all right.”
Reese blinked. She didn’t know why this was a surprise, but it was.
“So … are you all right?” Conner checked with her.
“Yes, I’m fine, but Mr. Somer collapsed at Doyle’s, and I came to help.”
“Of course you did,” Conner said.
“What did that mean?”
“Just that helping is what you do best. It wouldn’t occur to you to do otherwise.”
Reese didn’t know if she was being mocked or not. She studied the tall man in front of her, trying to weigh the issue.
“What did I say that’s causing that look?”
“What look?”
Conner smiled. “Have you ever noticed that we tend to talk in circles?”
Reese nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.
“How did you know where I was?” she asked.
“One of the few advantages of being this size is that your questions are all answered very quickly.”
“And you asked in town?”
“Certainly. We’ve never gone without dinner, so I knew something had to have come up. I just hoped you weren’t injured or ill. How is the man doing?”
“We’re not sure yet, but thank you for asking” was all Reese could think to say, still surprised that he’d come across town to check on her.
“I’ll let you go,” Conner said, putting his hat back on his head.
“All right. I’ll be back to the house as soon as I can.”
Conner nodded, and Reese began to turn away.
“Reese?” he said her name.
That woman turned back.
“Vanessa?” Conner asked.
“No,” Reese said yet again, but this time her eyes were brimming with suppressed laughter. She was still smiling when she slipped back inside the Somer home.
Fourteen
“It was like seeing myself,” Doyle said to Cathy that night as they readied for bed. “I remembered how sick I was.”
“But you’re not sick anymore,” Cathy reasoned.
“But I could be. Any of us could all go at any time.”
“That’s true, Doyle, but you’ve nothing to worry about,” Cathy argued.
“How do you know?” Doyle asked his wi
fe, thinking back on a conversation he’d had with Jace just two weeks past. How could anyone know? Jace seemed to think that he could. Doyle had to ask himself, as the older man, why he didn’t seem to know.
“What has put these thoughts in your head?” Cathy asked, sounding and feeling a bit impatient.
“Just seeing Mr. Somer lying there. We all only half listen to him when he tells us how he’s doing, and then he’s on the floor. It could have been me.”
Cathy had no answer. She wanted to argue with her husband and tell him he was just tired, but in her mind, without even being there, she could see Mr. Somer on the floor too. It was a scary thought.
And the image of an unconscious Mr. Somer was not one she wanted to sleep on! Cathy Shephard finished brushing her hair and climbed into bed. Doyle would have to trouble this one through on his own. Cathy didn’t want to think about it. She planned to fall asleep as fast as she could.
“How was Mr. Somer when you left the house yesterday?” Troy asked of Reese while she worked on breakfast.
“Actually I stopped in this morning, and he was awake and resting comfortably.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t get dinner,” Reese added.
“I filled up on pie.”
“Pie?” Reese confirmed, having wondered about its disappearance. “Was that all you had?”
“Pretty much,” Troy admitted almost proudly, causing Reese to smile.
While these two spoke downstairs and Reese worked, Conner finished dressing in his bedroom. Yesterday’s schedule had been an odd one; so odd, in fact, that Conner had just found a letter from his brother. He’d put it in his coat pocket, and never gotten around to reading it.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he opened it to see what Dalton had to say.
It’s tough not having you around was how the letter opened. I’m used to having you to pick on and tease and confide in, but I know your work there is important.
I was reminded as I sat down to write this that just a few months ago Mother was alive. Do you think of her often? Is it a burden to you, or are you too busy with the bank business there?