Heartwood

by Catherine Lane

  “What if I run interference with Pop? Get him on your side.”

  She spun around to look at her brother. His face had none of that snarky quality that usually took up permanent residence there. “You would do that?”

  “Yeah, tonight at dinner. If I get Pop to really sign off on your new job and not just the money, can I meet her then?”

  Beth shifted from one foot to the other. Letting Sammy in was chancy. He had a way of making everything about him, but her father was way more dangerous. He could pull the carpet out from under her at any moment by demanding that she return to the real estate office or, worse, go back to not working at all. What had he said? “People will think you have to work and that I can’t take care of my family. Working for Hank looks like a favor to a friend, but this is just plain crazy. Why can’t you just find a husband and settle down?”

  That was the million-dollar question she had been avoiding for a while. From her father and, if she was being honest, from herself as well. Sammy might just be what the doctor ordered. If she could control Sammy—and that was a big, big if—she might be able to get ahead of her father and this whole situation.

  “You get Pop to say it’s okay tonight and every other time he brings it up, because we both know he will. You do that, and we have a deal.”

  “What? That’s way too much.”

  “Take it or leave it.” Beth bit the side of her lip. Sammy might not jump.

  “All right.” He thrust his hand out for the shake. “Deal.”

  She dropped her hand into his. “Deal.”

  Sammy was better than his word. At dinner, between the fried chicken and the Jell-O ambrosia, he went to town, playing their father like a fiddle.

  “Someone is always going to have to take care of Beth.” He ended with a crescendo. “Make sure she’s making the right choices.”

  Carl dropped his spoon into his empty Jell-O bowl with a clatter. “You know, Sammy’s right.”

  Her brother grinned broadly as his face puffed up in victory. Even as a little boy, he had never worn his success well.

  Beth’s heart sank. Could she have been any dumber? She should have asked him how exactly he was going to swing their father her way.

  “I will feel better about your working for Mrs. Montgomery if I know her. See that she’s… what did you call her, Sammy?”

  “Bona fide, you know, Pop, totally legit.”

  Carl nodded first to Beth and then to the rest of the table. “He’s right. We need to make sure that her heart is in the right place where you’re concerned.”

  The writing sanctuary and all its luxuries rose before her. “Trust me, Pop. It is, but—”

  “No, no.” He held up his palm to stop her. “My mind’s made up. In fact, ask her over for dinner next weekend. Your mother will make a pot roast, and we can really get to know each other. Then sending you off to her house each day won’t seem so strange.”

  Beth fumed. Her father was treating her as if she were four and her job with Dawn as if it were an elaborate play date.

  Sammy, at least, had the decency to avoid her glare and began to pick at the napkin in his lap.

  “Pop, she came out here for some peace and quiet,” Beth said. “That doesn’t include dinner at our house.”

  “It would be nice to see what she’s all about.” Her mother fingered the cross at her neck.

  What was that about? Beth by no means had Dawn’s skills, but her mother was an open book. When she was nervous about something, her hands were all over that cross. She glanced back and forth between her parents. The hard stubbornness in their stares told her she was beaten.

  “Okay. I’ll ask her. But I can’t make her come.”

  The invitation lodged in Beth’s throat every time she opened her mouth. They were just getting into a rhythm out at the house, and she didn’t want to throw a wrench into the easy companionship that was quickly developing.

  Beth would stop in town on her way out and pick up groceries and anything else Dawn might need. Then they would sit in the kitchen with steaming cups of coffee and ramble on about their lives, hopes, and dreams. Dawn asked as many questions as she answered, and Beth found talking to her was remarkably easy. When their mugs were empty, they would move outside to “take the air” as Dawn called it. So far that involved planting flowers in big pots by the door or Dawn drawing something “straight from nature” in her sketchpad. Not one of the gossip magazines had said anything about Dawn being such a great artist, and Beth carried the secret around with her like a hidden treasure. After lunch, Dawn would take a nap in her bedroom while Beth stole away to the writing room down the hall.

  Soon her notebooks were heavy with words and stories. The pencil sped across the paper as if it had a mind of its own.

  “Are they possessed? Have I sold my soul to the devil?” She waved one at Dawn after a particularly fruitful session. “Or are they just magic?”

  Dawn laughed. “No. They came out of a regular box just like ordinary pencils.”

  Beth wasn’t convinced; her stories breathed with a grace and excitement that was brand-new to her. Okay, not the pencils; maybe it was the notebooks—ordinary on the outside, full of inspiration on the inside. Whatever it was, she always walked out of the room at the end of her sessions with a bounce in her step.

  One afternoon, Beth wrote THE END at the bottom of the page and put down her pencil with a contented sigh. Yes, she had completed her very first story. She gathered the notebook up with shaking hands and made her way downstairs.

  Dawn sat in the same wing-tip chair in the living room as she had on Beth’s first night in the house. Although this time, she had angled it out toward the wall of windows to take in the view, and Beth could only see blonde curls spilling over the back of the chair. The head underneath was as still as stone, and her sketchpad lay discarded on the floor.

  “Dawn, are you okay?” Beth stepped deeper into the room.

  Dawn craned her head around the side of the chair and met Beth’s gaze. Her face and expression were strangely blank as if she had wiped her emotions away with an eraser as she pivoted. “Yes, I was just thinking.”

  “About what?” Beth shivered, although the room was warm enough.

  “About life and how it turns out. I’m just feeling a little blue, I guess. When you’re in my condition, I hear that happens sometimes.” She waved her hand toward the couch. “Sit. I can see you’ve something to tell me.”

  “I do. But if you’re not up for it, I can wait.”

  “No, please. I need something to take me out of this mood.”

  Beth sat on the very edge of the couch and clutched the notebook protectively to her chest. “I finished a story.”

  “That’s fantastic. Read it to me.” The warmth seeped back into Dawn’s eyes, and she let her head drop against the side of the chair.

  Excitement swirled up in Beth. An audience, well Dawn’s approval really, was what had drawn her downstairs with the notebook in the first place. But now the idea of reading it out loud sent a jolt racing through her.

  “Don’t be scared,” Dawn said in that prescient way of hers. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to tell you the truth, of course. All artists should only hear the truth about their talent. Believe me, I’ve seen actresses completely ruined when the studio coddles them after a bad performance.”

  Beth gripped the notebook more tightly.

  “But I already know I’m going to love it.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.”

  “Try me.”

  Dawn had expertly backed her into a corner. Reading out loud was now both an invitation and a challenge. Beth marveled how easily Dawn had manipulated her into the one act that scared the bejeezus out of her. But still, she had to know. If she couldn’t get Dawn on her side, she might as well snap the magic pencils in half and throw the enchanted notebooks into the trash.

  With a voice that shook both with eagerness and anxiety, Beth began to read. “On her twenty-s
econd birthday, Karen woke up to find that she couldn’t recall even one mildly interesting incident about her life.”

  As the narrative unfolded, Karen bought herself a ticket to the traveling circus that had taken up residence in the next town over and found herself at the end of the night in the fortune-teller’s tent. The tarot card reading didn’t go well. The woman with the luminous green eyes turned over one blank card after another until the state of Karen’s life was patently clear. Finally, she told Karen that there was nothing for her here and that she might as well do something completely crazy. As Karen spun the possibilities around in her mind, the blank cards on the rickety table magically shone with colors and events so improbable that Karen gasped out loud. Her future, full of enchantment and adventure, was laid out before her, and all she had to do was grab it and never let go. When the circus left the next morning, Karen did too. She stood on the train next to the green-eyed woman and never looked back. Her parents woke up to an odd feeling that the house was strangely empty, but they immediately chalked it up to their missing dog that they thought had run away during the night. No one, as it turned out, remembered Karen at all.

  As she read, Beth stole glances at Dawn, who had sunk deeper into the chair with the first words. From then on, she gave nothing away. By the time Karen pulled back the thick curtain of the fortune-teller’s tent, Dawn’s eyes had fluttered closed. And she was so still after the last lines that Beth was sure she had fallen asleep.

  She closed the notebook with a soft rustle and started the criticism in her own head. Too derivative, too immature, too personal, too—

  “Sure, you can tell you’re young, maybe haven’t written a lot, but, Beth, as you read it, the story came alive. Just like a movie. No, better. I felt like I was there with Karen and Madame Valentini, standing in that tent.”

  Beth’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

  “Yes. And that’s something you can’t learn.” She clapped her hands.

  “You really liked it?” Beth needed to hear the compliment again.

  Dawn nodded. “Tomorrow we should start talking about another story, maybe something longer, bigger in scope.”

  “That would be amazing.” Beth sank back onto the sofa, grinning from ear to ear. Dawn was the real magic. She couldn’t lose this job. “Oh. Tomorrow. I forgot. My parents want me to ask you for dinner. I know it’s last minute and all. You don’t have to say yes, but I told them I would ask.”

  “That’s a lovely idea. I’d love to come.”

  Her heart dropped. She had been hoping that Dawn would say no, and all this would stay private.

  “Don’t fret. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Your parents just want to see what type of mysterious woman you’ve taken up with.”

  “No, it’s not that. They just can’t believe that this is a real job.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

  Like a cat, Dawn uncurled herself from the chair and was suddenly by Beth’s side. She took her chin between her thumb and forefinger and held it steady while she bent down and pressed her lips gently to Beth’s. They were firm and comforting as the shock rolled through Beth.

  When the surprise subsided, her lips softened and the kiss deepened. Dawn’s hold on her cheek grew into a caress. Beth leaned in to her hand as a warmth fluttered below her stomach and threatened to take her over completely.

  Then, just as quickly as the kiss had started, it was over. Dawn drew back, smiling gently.

  “What…? I…What was that?” Beth’s breath puffed out in little gasps.

  “What else? I colored your tarot cards. Isn’t that what you wanted? What you asked for with the story?”

  Dawn dropped her chin, and Beth felt the loss of her touch down to her toes.

  “But mostly teaching you that there are far worse things than kissing a girl.”

  Beth froze, not able to process even a little bit of what had just happened.

  So Dawn helped her out. She tenderly drew the notebook out of her hands and dropped it to the coffee table. Then she pulled Beth off the couch and led her to the front door.

  “Can you pick me up at four tomorrow? There are a few things I need in town before we have dinner with your family.”

  The door opened and closed, and Beth stood all alone in the cool afternoon air. She ran her fingers over her still tingling lips. Was Dawn right? Did she want the kiss? Was that what the story had always been about?

  The answer struck her hard, and her entire world opened up right there on the front porch of 741 Fern Drive. Suddenly, she knew things about herself that she hadn’t known ten minutes before. A bunch of things that she would have to unravel later, but the main one was that Dawn was right. There were far worse things than kissing a girl.

  The worst being that she had liked it.

  A lot.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dimitri’s gravelly voice echoed through the Outback’s speakers. “When opportunity knocks, you open door.”

  “I know, Papa.”

  Her father had a saying for everything. Not one was original, but Nikka thought it endearing how he said them as if they were and he had just come up with them out of the blue. The cheesy sayings aside, she had inherited her drive from her father, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

  “This is why we come to America. I opened door, and now my daughter will be partner in law firm.”

  “Slow down there, Papa. That’s a long way off, if ever.” But her voice also sang with the brightness of that distinct possibility. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is just one case, and I have to shine.”

  “You will.”

  “Part of what I have to do here is grunt work, and I’m not going to be popular.” She made the turn off the main highway and eased onto the road to Steelhead Springs. “A lot of people will look at me like I’m the bad guy when I give them this new information.”

  “Are you? Bad guy?”

  “No. The law is very clear in this case. Ms. Walker’s books aren’t in the public domain, so all the stores in Steelhead Springs are violating copyright. More importantly, I’ll be helping someone who can’t help herself. Not many people will see it that way, though.”

  “Then you make them see it. You have good plan?”

  “I think so. I hope so.”

  “You need good plan. Good plan is like Google road map. It puts flag at final destination in mind and big blue line to get there.”

  “Yes, Papa.” That was one of his favorites.

  “That’s my good girl.” Dimitri’s voice faded as he pulled the phone away to hang up.

  “Oh, Papa?” Nikka yelled into her car. She wasn’t used to the Bluetooth yet.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you make sure Sasha feeds Desi and Lucy?” Darker visions of her brother with his head in her liquor cabinet as the cats pawed empty bowls pushed the other shiny ones away.

  “He is big boy.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t always act like it.”

  “I make sure.”

  “Thanks. I love you.”

  Dimitri grunted his love and hung up.

  Nikka tapped her iPhone sitting in the cup holder, and another voice, this one calm and female, carried Nikka into the latest Booker Prize winner.

  Forty-five minutes and several chapters later, Nikka pulled into the Riverside Inn & Resort parking lot. As generic as the name of the hotel was, the actual property was breathtaking. A wooden slat building painted sunshine-yellow sat among pine trees right on the bank of the Tall Tree River. A huge, grassy lawn ran down to the water’s edge, and big decks soared off both the top and bottom stories, giving every room a gorgeous water view. Nikka smiled as she got out of the car. There were certainly worse places to work.

  “Welcome to the Riverside.” A butch woman with ink-black hair and several piercings popped up from behind the front desk. Her grin was so wide it worked against her tough image.

  “Thanks. This is beautiful.” Nikka
took in the cozy fireplace and sitting room littered with paperbacks and magazines. “I’m Nikka Vaskin. I think I have a reservation.”

  “Yes, you do.” She hit keys on a desk computer. “Oh, the River Suite. One of our nicest rooms. For a week?”

  “Yes.”

  “You alone?” The butch craned her neck to see if anyone else was coming in from the parking lot.

  “Yes.”

  “You here for business or pleasure?” She gave Nikka a long, appraising gaze.

  Was she flirting with her? She would have to put a stop to that immediately. She had no room for distractions of any kind, even if they had such a great smile.

  “Work. Nothing but work.”

  “The Springs has a way of changing that.” She winked at Nikka. “Mark my words.”

  “Not me. I got my priorities straight.”

  When she entered the hotel room, she slid the balcony door open to take a quick look at the idyllic view below. The green lawn was littered with deck chairs and umbrellas, and a pile of rubber inner tubes was tied to a post at the water. Beyond them, the Tall Tree River tumbled by with a cadence that could have been the model for a high-end sleep and sound machine. It was peaceful, restorative, and absolutely not for her. She slid the door closed and ran the black-out curtain across the view.

  Ten minutes later, she had transformed the holiday suite into a miniature office. Legal software CaseManager sat open on her iPad, and her computer hummed with the Riverside Inn’s spotty Internet. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had only snacked at her desk while working through lunch. Nikka toyed with the idea of going into town to get supper but then settled on the much more efficient option of room service and another working meal while she memorized details about the businesses that she would have to deal with first thing in the morning.

  Yep, nothing but work.

  The next morning the day started out fine…good even. The cute butch whose name was Germaine and who lived on the premises brought her a delicious breakfast of homemade granola with organic plain yogurt and fresh berries in the dining room. The coffee, rich and complex, rivaled her favorite place in the City.