Return to Crutcher Mountain (Cedar Hollow Series Book 2)

by Clayton, Melinda

  It’s hard to find one’s way out of a circle.

  My ex-husband had called me Inanna. My ex-therapists called me a veritable alphabet soup of labels, from PTSD to GAD to BPD. Names didn’t matter to me, because I knew what the issue really was: darkness, pure and simple.

  Sobbing into my pillow, I wondered if there could be any hope for me. This was actually an improvement over previous thinking, since previously I’d given up. Events lately, however, had made me wonder. After all, even Inanna eventually underwent a spiritual transformation that rendered her whole. Of course, that was only after her rotting corpse had hung on a hook in Hades for a while. Nothing comes free, not even for a goddess.

  Chapter 20: Robby

  Hi it’s me Robby and I just got to look at the moon! I mean I’ve seen it before but not up close like that through a scope! Wow! Grandpa always said the moon was made of cheese but I know he was teasing me. It is much too big to be made out of cheese and anyway how would they get it out there in space? Ha! I hate cheese anyway.

  It was fun and a little bit scary to be outside up on a mountain when it was getting dark but then they made us come in when it got really dark. Ms. Janice made us hurry up to get inside. I think she is a big scaredy baby. That’s because she’s a girl and girls are big scaredy babies but I’m not.

  We came inside and we didn’t have to do another Group because Mr. Bryan said looking at the moon and talking about it was our Group. Cool. Then he said we could have thirty minutes of Free Time to play board games or watch TV. I asked Mr. Bryan if I could write my mom a letter and he said “That’s a wonderful idea, Robby.” I have wonderful ideas a lot.

  I don’t know where my mom is right now but Mrs. Cortes said if I write my mom she will make sure my mom gets it. I used to write Grandpa letters sometimes when I didn’t live with him. At first I didn’t want to write him because I can’t spell good but he said, “Hell, Robby, I can’t spell good, either. But I sure would love to get a letter from you.”

  I did not tell my Grandma that Grandpa said the “h” word to me. He would have gotten in trouble because he was not supposed to use such language in front of the boy. I am the boy. Ha! That is what Grandma always called me. “Raymond, you shouldn’t use such language in front of the boy.” I miss her too but when she died I still had Grandpa. Now he died and I don’t have anybody.

  I hope my mom doesn’t mind if my spelling is bad. I want to tell my mom about the mountain and the Lodge and Anthony and Marcus and Joseph. Especially Joseph because I want to go visit him at his house when we leave here even though he has a sister. I do NOT want to tell my mom about Stacey because my mom does not like it when I am in love with girls.

  I want to tell my mom about Ms. McIntosh too. What I really want to tell her is what I heard Mr. and Mrs. Huffman say about Ms. McIntosh the other night. I don’t get what the whole big stinking deal is. Like why is it a big stinking secret? Mr. Huffman told Mrs. Huffman to keep quiet and not tell anybody anything. Mrs. Huffman said she didn’t see why he wouldn’t tell anyone but then he got mad and said, “Opal, I am asking you to just keep quiet about it all. Is that too much to ask?”

  He did not ask me to keep quiet because he did not know I heard him. I think I will tell Ms. McIntosh about it. I know that she is sad because her mom died and I think she will be happy if I tell her.

  It is almost time for bed and I am really tired. I am too tired to write my mom right now. Maybe Mr. Bryan could get me some crayons. I think I will draw Ms. McIntosh a picture of the big old cheese moon instead.

  Chapter 21

  Thursday

  I awoke late the next morning, feeling hung over. I hate that feeling, the I-cried-myself-to-sleep feeling. It’s a feeling that should be reserved for people aged three or below. Pushing fifty was much too old for that feeling, but there I was, and that probably said more about my emotional state than I cared to realize.

  I stumbled into the shower, keeping my eyes closed the entire time. I was too tired to open them and they were so swollen they wouldn’t have opened, anyway. I showered until the hot water ran out, then stood for a while in the cold spray, hoping beyond hope that the ice cold jets would relieve my swollen eyes.

  My hope was in vain. The shower over, a towel wrapping my hair, I groaned at my reflection in the mirror. Only a few short days ago I’d stood in my L.A condo regarding my reflection in the bathroom mirror and bemoaning the fact that I looked like my mother. That morning at the Lodge I would have been, if not exactly happy, at least relieved by that comparison.

  Unfortunately, the reflection that greeted me looked at least five years older than the one the day before. As much as I disliked it, there was nothing to be done about it, so I dressed and headed for the cafeteria, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone along the way. My plan was to grab some coffee and yogurt and find Nora for our morning catch-up session.

  I almost made it unobserved, but just as I filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee, Mrs. Huffman came through, wiping down the tables. Until then, we’d nodded in passing several times but hadn’t had the opportunity to converse. In spite of my swollen eyes, I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to get a better feel for the woman. I snapped the lid onto my cup and walked over to sit at the table she was cleaning. I had no specific plan; I’d just go where the conversation took me.

  “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? Looks like I missed the kids. Are they already on the trail?”

  She didn’t pause in her cleaning. “Mmm-hmm. They left about fifteen minutes ago.” She glanced over at me and I noted the fatigue in her face. I tried to guess her age, settling on early sixties. Her gray hair was cropped short. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, just a cotton dress with a bold flower print, an apron tied over the front, thick support hose and sneakers on her feet. She looked like anybody’s grandmother, and I felt a stab of pity for her, working so hard at an age when she should have been enjoying her retirement.

  “Can I get you something?” she asked, sensing my curiosity.

  I hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic, but decided that was about as good an opening as I was likely to get. “Actually, maybe you can. You haven’t found a toothbrush lying around anywhere, have you? Green, with the address and phone number of a dentist’s office stamped into the handle?”

  Did I imagine it, or was there a slight hesitation? If so, she recovered quickly, wringing out her sponge and starting on the chair seats. “No ma’am. I haven’t seen a toothbrush lying around, but we have extras. Do you need me to get you one?”

  “No, thanks. Robby helped me out.” She was lying; she had to be. Why would Robby make up such a story?

  “Oh, that’s good. He’s a sweet boy.” She glanced at me again, did a double take. “Miss, are you okay?”

  Damn. I sniffed, made a show of wiping my nose. “Allergies. I’m not used to it up here; it’s been a long time since I’ve hung out in the woods the way I have this week.”

  “You better stop by the nurse’s office on your way out, get you some medicine. Fall is one of the worst times for allergies around here. She’ll hook you right up.” She sloshed the sponge in the bucket of soapy water.

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  She moved on to the next table, effectively ending our conversation. She hadn’t been friendly, exactly, but she hadn’t avoided me, either, and it was obvious she had a lot to get done before the kids returned from their hike. I had to admit the woman worked hard, regardless of my suspicions.

  “I’ll leave you alone and let you work,” I said, standing, and she nodded at me as I left.

  Nora was on the phone when I knocked and let myself into her office. I started to step back outside until she finished, but she waved me in and gestured towards the chair, rolling her eyes as she pointed to the receiver.

  “You can’t be serious,” she was saying. “So the fact that he has a developmental disability means that any emotion he has is attributable to that? Are you kidding me?” She paused and I he
ard the faint, tinny sound of the voice on the other end.

  “Oh, I understand what you’re saying,” Nora argued. “I just think it’s ridiculous. The child is depressed. It isn’t a part of his developmental disability. It has nothing to do with his disability, but you’re telling me he doesn’t qualify to receive mental health services because he has a developmental disability? That’s outrageous!”

  Another pause. “Well, I’m not finished with this. These kids fall through the cracks enough without funding streams fighting over who should pay for services.” Nora slammed down the phone, slapping the desk in frustration.

  “You know what I hate?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I hate it when mental health funding streams try to fit everything about a kid under a developmental disability label so they won’t have to pay for services. Disability funding streams do the same in reverse, of course, but who loses out in the end? The kids do, that’s who.”

  She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest before noticing my face, and then, “Good Lord, what happened to you?” She sat forward, peering at me over her glasses.

  I sighed. “Allergies. Mrs. Huffman already sent me to the nurse’s office. I’m sure I’ll be better by this afternoon.”

  Nora sat watching me, chewing on the inside of her cheek, eyes squinted. “Right,” she finally said. “Allergies.”

  I hate that about therapists. It’s as if they can read minds or something. It’s very disconcerting, not to mention just plain creepy.

  “Right,” I agreed, and then quickly switched gears. “So tell me more about the Huffmans.”

  Nora started. “The Huffmans! Why?”

  “Because I think they stole my toothbrush.”

  Nora raised her brows in surprise, then laughed. “Your toothbrush. Jessie, if you need a toothbrush, we have some in the supply closet, but why in the world would you think the Huffmans took yours?”

  I reminded Nora about finding my door open my first night at the Lodge and filled her in on the missing toothbrush. When I got to the part about Robby returning the original to me after having seen it fall out of Mrs. Huffman’s pocket, she interrupted.

  “But that explains it, don’t you think? Your toothbrush probably fell out of your bag and the Huffmans found it. No doubt they meant to bring you a replacement but just forgot it in the midst of everything else they’re responsible for doing.”

  I shook my head. “Not possible. I hadn’t even unzipped my bags. I set them straight down and left to join the kids on a hike, remember? Besides, I just asked Mrs. Huffman if she’s seen a toothbrush matching the description and she denied it.”

  “Okay.” Nora rested her elbows on the chair arms and steepled her fingers. “But I’m sure there’s still a logical explanation. As I said before, why on earth would they take your toothbrush?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. I’m going into town today for lunch. I’m hoping to catch Sheriff Moore while I’m there. I’d like to know what, if any, progress he’s making in the investigation.

  Nora looked surprised. “Do you think that’s wise? The Sheriff is liable to resent someone poking around his investigation. And the Huffmans...Jessie, I don’t want to lose them. They’re too valuable to this place. Before you go offending them, you need to make very, very sure you have your information right.”

  “Of course. Look, Nora, my goal isn’t to offend anyone; my goal is to get to the bottom of things. I flew out here as a result of a string of weird happenings accompanied by a mysterious note. I have to get back to L.A. soon, but I don’t want to leave until I have some idea of what’s going on. Apparently someone wanted me here; I’d like to know who, and why.”

  “Just be careful, Jessie. I doubt you’ve been out in L.A. honing your investigative skills all these years. Oh, before I forget,” Nora opened the top drawer of her desk, “Robby asked me to give this to you. I think it’s something he drew for you last night. He’s such a cute kid. He’s meeting with his caseworker this morning, but he’ll be back this afternoon. Ms. Cortes is having a heck of a time finding a placement for him.”

  “Placement? Don’t tell me his mother has disappeared again.” I reached out and took the folded paper from her, tucking it into the back pocket of my jeans. I’d look at it later, when I got to Corinne’s. As it was, I’d slept much later than I’d intended and was in a hurry to get on the road.

  “No, not at all. She’s actually doing quite well, but it’s a ninety day program. Robby will need to be in foster care until she’s finished and the court approves of him going home. There’s just such a shortage of good homes, especially for kids that have special needs, it’s hard to find a placement.”

  “Poor kid. Any family would be lucky to have him. Tell him thank you for me, and I’ll see him sometime this evening.” Just as I stood, pulling my keys out of my pocket, the door opened and we both turned to see who it was.

  I didn’t know the man. He was older, heavyset—for some reason the word portly comes to mind—and tall, over six feet, filling the doorframe. He was dressed in tan work overalls, the kind mechanics often wear, the thighs stained with what looked like engine grease, and a ball cap, pulled low over long, gray hair. And he was clearly very angry.

  “If you won’t return my phone calls I reckon I’ll just have to keep visitin’ you in person. You owe me money, doc, and I’m here to get it.”

  Across from me, Nora sighed. “Good morning, Virgil. How nice to see you.”

  “Don’t try any of that psychobabble shit on me.” Virgil shut the door behind him and crossed over to Nora’s desk, standing beside me. “Jessie Russell,” he said, looking down at me. “You done got old, but I’d recognize you anywhere. Glad to see you’re here, too, seein’ as how you started up this place. This woman,” he pointed at Nora, “is tryin’ to cheat me out of my pay.”

  “Virgil, why don’t you have a seat so we can talk about this in a civilized manner?” Nora motioned towards a chair.

  “I don’t need to sit; I ain’t plannin’ on stayin’. I just come to get my pay.”

  “Virgil.” Nora’s voice was deliberately calm; I admired her composure. “I gave you your final check on the day I let you go. It contained everything you were owed. You were only owed one week’s pay at that time, remember? And that’s what you received.”

  “I want to see them books.” Virgil jabbed his forefinger towards Nora’s face. “I’m gonna get me an attorney and I want to see them books. You owe me more; I know you do, and I will get it.”

  “Tell you what.” Nora leaned her hands on the desk in front of her, ignoring his finger. “Let’s schedule a meeting. How about Friday afternoon, after the kids are gone. Does one o’clock work for you? Bring your attorney with you, if you’d like, and I’ll have Betty from finance come and go over your pay with you. Will that work?”

  “Damn straight,” Virgil responded. “I’ll be here and y'all better be here, too.” He turned and looked at me where I’d been standing speechless throughout the exchange.

  “You got a crooked operation goin’ on here,” he said, and this time it was my face at which he pointed. “You better watch yourself. You don’t want nobody diggin’ around too hard in your background, do you little lady? Your stepdaddy was my friend, and he didn’t just disappear; I know that much. I don’t know what happened, but I know you and that Injun bitch had somethin’ to do with it. You don’t want to mess with me, girl; you’d better believe that.” He turned and stomped out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

  I stared after him, stunned by the whole incident. “And this is the man the Sheriff doesn’t think is involved?” I finally managed to ask.

  Nora sat down heavily in the desk chair. “He’s loud and he’s obnoxious, but he doesn’t have a history of violence. At least, he hasn’t had. But now I’m beginning to wonder. Whew!” She exhaled, whistling through her teeth. “What a morning. If you do see the Sheriff today, would you ask him to do a dr
ive-by of the Lodge around one o’clock Friday afternoon? I don’t know that I want to be isolated up here with that man.”

  I nodded my agreement. “I think that’s a very good idea. I also think I should be involved, don’t you? Since I started up this crooked operation you’re running.”

  Nora laughed. “Absolutely, Jessie. I’d appreciate that, if it doesn’t interfere with your flight.”

  “My flight isn’t until the evening. I’ll let Corinne know when I see her today that we’ll have to have either a late lunch or an early dinner before I leave.”

  I waited until I heard the sound of Virgil’s truck receding in the distance before I left Nora’s office for my car.

  Chapter 22

  Michael was standing outside Corinne’s house when I pulled into the driveway and I was surprised by how glad I was to see him. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, dressed casually in jeans and a denim jacket, his hair disheveled by the breeze. As I put the car in park, he strolled towards me, hands in his pockets. I turned off the ignition and he reached to open my door.

  I stepped towards him, expecting a hug. Michael always hugged me by way of greeting, but not that day. Fallout from our discussion the day before, I assumed, and it hurt a bit, I had to admit. I had wanted to maintain some distance, had demanded it, really, and he was giving it to me, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. A woman composed solely of opposites. Good Lord, I exhausted myself.

  Michael closed the car door behind me and stepped aside, inviting me to take the lead as we strolled to a picnic table under the large elm in Corinne’s backyard, our feet crunching through the leaves. “You look tired,” he said, concern etched across his face. “Did something else happen?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just allergies. I’ve gotten used to smog. All this plant life is killing me.” I changed the subject. “I see you survived the night okay.”