“Jeez,” I said. “That’s harsh. But at least nobody was hurt.”
“No, but the fire destroyed everything they owned. They had insurance, of course, but it was still bad.”
“When did it happen?” Joe asked.
Horvald squinted, thinking. “Oh, it had to have been back in 1955 or so. The Brunswicks decided not to rebuild. The twins were about twenty, I think. Brent had left for Europe about a month before the fire. I don’t know whether he ever came back. Irena got married right around that time and I think Edward and Lauren Brunswick moved back to New York after their daughter’s wedding. I’d forgotten all about that family until now.” He turned to Joe. “So you really bought the lot?”
“Yep. I’m going to be your neighbor.” Joe started clearing the table but I asked the kids to take over.
As Horvald headed for the living room, I rested one hand on his arm. “Are you sure you’re telling me everything you know about the house?”
He gave me a strange look. “Why? Is something wrong?”
I glanced out the back window over at the darkened lot. Nothing was visible except the inkiness of the night and swirling leaves in the wind. “No, I guess not. No reason.” But the sound of a woman crying stuck in my mind for the rest of the evening, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and that we’d awakened something better left asleep.
Chapter 2
From Brigit’s Journal:
I don’t know what I’d do without my Mab. She keeps me laughing when I don’t think I can take life here any longer, and she keeps me company on nights when I’m alone. I’ve never had a puss before, and I’m grateful the Missus allows it. Of course, Mab catches the mice, so she earns her keep.
America has been quite the experience. I thought coming here would mean leaving my old life behind, but it’s almost as if the past haunts me. I think about sweet William a lot, but time has healed a lot of those wounds. I wonder, if I were to go home, would they reopen, bring back the tears? I suppose I’ll never know. All I know is that this land is strange and yet, familiar. In fact, this very house and yard remind me of Glenagary’s Rock. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a barrow if I hunted through the woods long enough.
Speaking of Glenagary’s Rock, I had quite the scare a few mornings ago. I was out in the backyard hanging clothes when a gust of wind swirled around me, catching up my skirt. I thought something was watching me, but when I turned around, there was only the tree there, blowing in the wind.
I don’t like that tree—it gives me nightmares, and I can’t help but wish Mr. Edward would chop it down. Silliness, I suppose. It’s a perfectly fine tree. Mary Kathryn would say I’m letting my imagination run away with me. Still, I try to avoid the backyard at night. I thought I saw lights out there once, but it was probably just the moonlight.
I WOKE FROM disturbing dreams that I couldn’t remember, with a vague sense that something was out of place. Joe was lying beside me, curled up against my back. I turned to stare at his tangle of strawberry blond hair.
My sweetheart. He might be ten years younger than I, but he exuded wisdom, confidence, and compassion. Even though his job terrified me—I was always afraid he was going to get burned or fall through a floor trying to rescue somebody—I knew it was his passion. The job was the perfect match for him. And he was the perfect match for me.
Careful to avoid waking him, I slipped from beneath the covers and padded to the window. Overcast, but no rain yet. If we were lucky, it would hold off long enough to finish clearing the lot today. Murray and Jimbo had promised to drop by and give us a hand, though I had the feeling that Murray had more on her mind than yanking out blackberries. Since coming out in the open about her relationship with the renegade biker, she was having a hard time with some of the guys on the force. They didn’t cotton to a head of detectives who was, in their opinion, sleeping with the enemy. And she wasn’t about to give up either her job or her newfound love.
I opened the window and took a long whiff of the chill morning air. The scent of wood smoke filtered in, and the thought occurred to me that maybe we’d better get a chimney sweep over before next week. We didn’t use the fireplace often, but when we did, I wanted to feel safe. Right now I could go for a crackling fire, curled up in a leather chair with an afghan to toss across my legs.
As I stared into the backyard, the lot next door was barely visible over the top of the fence. Joe and I had discussed pulling the fence down, but we wanted to wait until we cleared out the years of vegetation. Plans were that the lot would become an extension of my property, when we finally made the move to join households. We wanted to plant gardens, create a little pond, maybe a gazebo. While not officially engaged, Joe and I had an understanding. This one was for keeps, regardless of I-do’s or golden rings.
I realized I was shivering and shut the window. As I dug through my closet, hunting for my grunge clothes, Joe stirred.
“Honey? What time is it?” he asked, squinting at the nightstand.
“Nine. If you want to get the rest of the lot cleared, you’d better get up and eat. I’d like to get started before noon. I’ve decided I’m not going to clean the shop since I’m on vacation; Cinnamon and Lana can handle it.” Every Saturday morning, rain or shine, the kids and I trooped down to the Chintz ’n China and went to work, dusting, sweeping, polishing until it sparkled. But I was giving myself full latitude on my time off.
The kids deserved a break, too, especially Kip, who had spent the first three Sundays of October at the Bread & Butter House, serving dinner to the poorer residents of Chiqetaw. He’d pulled a stupid stunt in August, and I hoped the lesson would teach him a little bit about generosity and honesty.
Joe reached out for me and I crawled across the covers, still in my bathrobe, and settled into his arms. As we leaned back against the headboard, he played with my hair. “Emerald, are you okay with the fact that I bought the lot? I don’t want to move too fast, and you haven’t said much over the past week about it. I was hoping that you haven’t changed your mind.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “You took me by surprise, but yeah, I’m happy. I just… for some reason, I’m just feeling uncomfortable today. Like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.”
“What’s wrong?”
But I couldn’t answer. Yesterday I’d been pleased as punch, but today I didn’t want to go outside, especially next door, where we still faced a mountain of foliage. The thought of staying home, making soup and biscuits, maybe watching an old movie or two, was far more appealing than mucking around in the cold.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired. I had nightmares last night. I guess they threw me off.” My dreams were often turbulent, and Joe had more than once woken me out of the clutches of some evil menace waiting to gobble me up.
He pushed me into sitting position and began to rub my shoulders, massaging the knots that had formed there during the night. “What were they about this time? Not Roy, I hope?”
Ever since I’d let Joe into my life, I’d been having nightmares in which Roy tried to step in and destroy the happiness I had. While I wouldn’t put the thought past my ex-from-hell, I wasn’t about to court trouble by dwelling on it.
“Honestly? I don’t know. Can’t remember them, so let’s just leave it at that.” I shrugged, then forced myself to climb out from the protection of the thick comforter. “I guess we’d better get moving. The kids will want breakfast and my stomach’s rumbling, too.” Planting a kiss on his forehead, I slipped into a sweatshirt and jeans as he tumbled out of bed. He slapped my butt as he reached for his clothes. I shooed his hand away.
“Scram, fly! I’ll go start the show. Hurry up though, I want you to make me eggs.” Joe cooked up the best scrambled eggs I’d ever tasted. “You want coffee?”
He nodded. “Always, but not that mud you drink. It’s so thick you could stand a spoon in it.”
“Fine then,
miss the best part of the day!” With an exaggerated sniff, I stuck my nose in the air and headed for the door, stopping short when I stubbed my toe on the dresser. I gave him an evil glare as he repressed a snicker, and headed downstairs.
After poking through the fridge, I finally decided on cinnamon rolls, fried ham and scrambled eggs, and fresh-squeezed orange juice for breakfast. As I was taking the rolls out of the package and arranging them on a baking pan, Randa trudged in, rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning, sweetie,” I said, then gave her a longer look. She often spent her evenings out on the roof, sky watching, but it had rained like crazy last night. She looked like she’d been dragged through the wringer. “You didn’t go out in the storm last night, did you?”
She shook her head. “Nah, but I had a weird dream. I woke up in the middle of the night, and it was hard to get back to sleep.”
It would seem that nightmares had been the fare for the evening.
“Need any help?” she asked. “Should I start your espresso?”
“You know the way to your mother’s heart, child.” I gave her a quick kiss as she passed by, on her way to the machine that brought me heaven on earth. While she filled the mesh cup with four shots’ worth of ground beans, I tucked the rolls in the oven and sliced up the ham, getting it ready for the skillet. Joe joined us and took over the spatula, scrambling the eggs while I mixed cocoa and Coffee-mate into the black gold that kept me running like a well-tuned machine.
Kip, smelling food, bounced into the kitchen.
“Feed the cats, please, before breakfast,” I said.
He nodded and took off into the pantry, calling Samantha and her three kittens. Our family’s felines were rescues from the animal shelter. The kittens had pretty much grown up, though I had the suspicion that Nigel was in for another spurt. He was on his way to sixteen pounds and counting. Before there were any unexpected blessings, I’d taken them to the vet and had them all fixed. The troop of furbles had wormed their way into our hearts, each one becoming an integral part of our family.
A moment later, Kip returned, looking confused.
“What’s the matter, honey? Are we out of cat food?”
“Nah, but Samantha isn’t by her dish. She’s always there.”
I frowned. Samantha never missed a meal. She looked like a fuzzy round calico bear. Though not as big as her son, she was no slouch in the belly department, with a paunch big enough to make any cat proud.
“Maybe she’s still asleep,” I said. “The seasons are changing and that can affect cats’ appetites and their need for sleep. Don’t worry about it, she’ll eat when she’s ready.” He nodded and helped Miranda set the table. As Joe and I dished up breakfast, I asked them, “What are your plans for the day?”
Randa shrugged. “Library. I’ve got a lot of homework and I need to do some research.”
I nodded. “And you?” I asked Kip.
He sighed. “I thought I might go with Randa, if she doesn’t mind.”
I stared at him, as did Randa. The library? Kipling?
He must have noticed the startled looks because he added, “I need to check out a book on basic HTML for the computer club. We’re learnin’ how to write code and our advisor told us to get a book on it. They cost like forty dollars or more and I thought you wouldn’t want to buy it for me.”
Randa gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, right. You’re probably trying to learn how to become a hacker, aren’t you? Well, if you want to go with me, you can help me do the dishes this morning. The library doesn’t open until eleven, so we’ve got a couple hours before we need to leave.”
When Kip had first signed up for the summer computer camp offered by the Chiqetaw Community Center, I’d been amazed by how willingly he learned the material. Now he was applying that knowledge in school, for which I was grateful. However, I’d had the same sneaking suspicion that Randa voiced, though I wasn’t about to say so aloud. Chances being what they were, if Kip could manage to get himself in trouble, he would. My son’s sense of judgment was notoriously poor and he wasn’t too swift in the think-first category. I comforted myself with the thought that at least he was taking an interest in school.
“Tell you what. See if you can find it at the library. If you can’t, check the used bookstores. Then, if you still can’t find a copy of it, I’ll order it from Barnes & Noble, on condition that you stay in the computer club until at least spring break. Okay?”
“Okey-dokey.” He gave me a happy nod and turned back to his breakfast.
“By the way, if either of you decides to run off after the library, be sure to call and leave me a message. Where, why, and when you’ll be home. And Kip, remember: No going over to Sly’s. You know the rules.”
Unless it was during schooltime, he’d been banned from hanging out with Sly, his best friend. I hated playing bad cop, but a couple of months ago the troubled youth had encouraged Kip to take part in what was essentially a scam. That had been the last straw. After giving Sly chance after chance, I finally had to face facts. The kid wasn’t going to change, his parents didn’t care, and I couldn’t count on my son’s common sense. So I’d limited the amount of time they were allowed to spend together.
Sly’s mother had been no help when I’d approached her about the attempted scam, telling me to “mind your own fucking business and take care of your own damned kid.”
As sorry as I felt for the youngster, I had to put my son first. Kip had finally resigned himself to my decision, but he was prone to forgetting whatever he didn’t want to remember, so I reinforced the reminder at least once a week.
He grimaced, but said nothing; both he and Miranda knew my stance on whining. “Can I—”
“May I.”
“May I have more eggs?”
Joe pushed himself back from the table and bowed. “Of course, Monsieur Kipling. Any other requests? Chef Joseph at your service.”
Randa and Kip giggled while I stared at my plate, deciding whether I had room left for any more. The caffeine was working through my system and I was starting to wake up. A little rumble told me that I could stand another serving of scrambled eggs. “I’m with Kip. Bring it on, babe.”
Joe snorted. “Your pleasure is my pleasure, Madame. Randa? You want anything else?”
She shook her head. “Nah, I’m going to go finish my chores before we head off to the library. Kip, don’t forget—you’re helping me with the dishes.”
He nodded, his mouth full of cinnamon roll.
By the time the dishes were done and the kids out the door, it was almost eleven. Murray and Jimbo pulled into the driveway. They’d brought both their trucks so we could haul away the debris faster.
Anna Murray, my oldest friend, had been my room-mate at the University of Washington before she moved to Chiqetaw to accept a position on the police force. I’d married Roy and stayed in Seattle, my one huge mistake in life. Although, without Roy, I wouldn’t have Randa and Kip, so life with him hadn’t been a total loss—it had netted me the two most important people in the world. After we broke up, Murray encouraged me to move to Chiqetaw and start my own business. I never looked back.
Mur had recently been promoted to the post of head of detectives. Tall, regal, Native American, she was buxom, with long, straight black hair that she wore caught back in a braid, and she possessed a grace I could never hope to match.
Jimbo, her boyfriend, was an old biker who built a life for himself out by Miner’s Lake, where he trapped small animals for fur, raised bees for honey, and picked up odd jobs here and there working on cars. They made an unlikely pair. He was a rebel, she was dedicated to keeping order, and yet somehow, they’d found love in the midst of their differences.
In fact, they’d started out on opposite sides of the law, when Jimbo threw a brick through my front room window early in the year. He’d later decided to play the good guy. I owed him big, even though he insisted the debt had been paid in full.
; Mur gave me a hug and thumbed me toward her truck. “We brought some heavy tools to yank out the rest of those vines,” she said, hauling out what looked like a giant-sized set of pruning shears.
“Well, there’s been a development in our excavation. Did you know there used to be a house on that lot?”
“What? Really? Did you find something?”
“Yep.” We told them about the basement and, their interest piqued. We all trooped over to the lot, where Joe took down the ropes we’d put up to discourage sightseers from falling in.
Murray stared into the part of the chamber that we could see and turned to me, a puzzled look on her face. “Well, isn’t that a kicker? I never would have guessed. Those brambles are more tenacious than I thought—they make the perfect cover. And Horvald said there was a house here?”
“Yep. A three-story mansion, I gather. He said it burned to the ground from a lightning strike, almost fifty years ago on Halloween night.”
Jimbo shook his head. “Leave it to you, O’Brien, to stumble over a house burnt down by lightning. On Halloween, yet. You can’t help finding hoodoo even when you aren’t looking for it, can you?”
“Hey, I was born on Halloween, so don’t go knocking my birthday!” I laughed as we spread out and started chopping away.
About an hour into our work, we came to a second edge of the basement and had to haul out the mess we’d already cut away. While Joe and Jimbo kept making inroads on the thicket, Murray and I loaded armfuls of the thorny brush into the pickup beds. I was grateful for the thick jacket I’d decided to wear; the thorns snagged at it, but never managed to break through to my skin.
After a few moments, Mur stopped and leaned against the side of her truck. “Em, can we talk for a second?”
A Harvest of Bones Page 3