“All right, Dan, all right. Whose eyes should I shut?”
“Abner. He watches me all the time.” Uncle Dan pulled Great-grandpa closer. “I think he sends the storms to get back at me. I can’t run away anymore. I’m an old man.” At that his voice caught in a little sob of shock, as though for the first time he realized his elderly and helpless estate.
“Through the night, he drifted in and out of consciousness. When the storm raged, so would he. No one could get any sleep. My grandfather, even though he was a still a small boy, refused to leave my great-grandpa alone with Dan. Grandfather didn’t trust the old tramp, didn’t care that he was his father’s brother, and planned to make sure no mischief happened.
“Toward morning the wind and rain let up. The sun rose, and Uncle Dan opened his eyes. He looked calm and lucid. He even recognized Great-Grandpa Rich as his brother. He motioned at his horrible, ragged, smelly coat.
“Rich, there’s a box in the pocket. Bring it here.”
“Great-Grandpa dug into the deep, filthy pocket and found the box. He brought it to Uncle Dan. My grandfather, encouraged by the sane sound of the tramp’s voice, moved close to his father for a better look. Uncle Dan lifted the lid. Inside they saw a shiny, old-fashioned pocket watch and a small card.
“Richie, this doesn’t belong to me. I stole it from Abner years ago. I stole it from him in Galveston and let him die alone. Now I see his eyes. They follow me everywhere and ask me to help. Richie, I’m going to die soon, and I’ll be in hell, and I think I can stand hell as long as Abner’s eyes aren’t there. You need to give him the watch back. He’s dead, but he’ll know. When he gets the watch back, he’ll finally close his eyes. Promise me, Rich, promise me!” His voice rose to this high, keening sound that Grandfather Thorn said gave him chills.
“Great-grandma was running around looking for a Bible so she could make sure Uncle Dan knew he didn’t need to go to hell. My grandfather had his hands over his ears because he had never heard such a dreadful noise. And Great-grandpa held Uncle Dan’s hand and promised he would do his best to find Abner. Uncle Dan sort of gurgled, and that sound was worse than the screaming. And he died in Great-grandpa’s arms just as Great-grandma came in shouting John 3:16.”
Claudia took a breath. “Goodness, that story takes a lot out of me!”
Amos had been enthralled. “There’s more, right?”
“Just a bit. The Depression and World War II made it impossible for Great-grandpa Rich to follow through with his promise. He died soon after the war, but he asked his son, my grandfather, to take the watch and try to find Abner. Grandfather had a slew of kids, his own business, and he was taking care of his mom. He tried to do a little research but couldn’t find out anything. But he worries to this day about keeping his promise.
“I went to school for journalism and got pretty good at research, and of course the Internet is a huge asset, so I started looking for information on the watch and owner. The watch is probably late nineteenth century. It’s not showy, but cleans up beautifully. There isn’t any maker name, which is unusual. We don’t know anything else about it or the owner, except that Uncle Dan made it sound as though it were a man. We didn’t know whether Abner was a first name, last name, nickname, or just something that came out of Uncle Dan’s old, fuddled brain. The little card in the box had faded and the writing was illegible.
“It took time, but I finally ran across that death certificate I told you about. There are other Abners in the country but the only one with a Galveston link died in Weary County. A companion and I came up to see what we could find out. If you’re the right descendant of the right Abner, I wanted to give the watch to you and keep Great-grandpa’s promise.”
During the telling, Amos’s face had reflected the emotion of the story. He called the nurse and requested a glass of water for Claudia. He waited while she sipped.
“I’m guessing you don’t have the watch with you,” he said.
Claudia sighed. “No. I did until a couple of days ago. I don’t know if you heard my sad story at Blossom’s the other night, but my...traveling companion took off with my luggage and the watch. I’m sorry, Amos. I shouldn’t have let it out of my sight since it wasn’t mine to lose. Three generations kept Abner’s watch safe, and I have to be the careless one. Hopefully I can get it back for you. I’ll be doggoned if I’m going to let Uncle Dan’s eyes haunt me!”
“Before you get too caught up in sin and misery,” Amos said, “I have a story, too. But I’d rather tell it back home. It’s time for my peach puree and strained vegetable soup. And some of my family will be showing up after lunch to coo over me. Don’t get me wrong. I love the cooing as much as I love my family, but they tend to fill a space. Come over when I get out of here, and you’ll hear part of the story that will knock your socks off.”
Claudia agreed that even if she did find a way to get back to Chicago, she’d come see him first. Speculating on the sort of story that could knock off her socks, she made her way back to Barley and the Weary Traveler.
Philip met her at the door, his face alight with curiosity. “Hey, what took you so long? You have a visitor!”
Before Claudia could respond, she heard ‘There’s my lost girl!” And Peter poked his handsome head around the corner.
SEVEN
“Oh, Ann, this is so embarrassing.” Claudia paced the tangerine kitchen. She had fled there moments after Peter’s greeting with the excuse of getting him coffee, ignoring his pointed stare at the full cup he held. “My personal problems are all over your front parlor. And what am I supposed to do now?”
“Bud suggested tossing him out into a snow bank. We had to explain to Philip why we weren’t welcoming your friend with open arms. Once he heard the story he wished we still had chamber pots and could toss the contents out with him. The cooler head prevailed, and I said we should give you the chance to decide what to do with the ferret.”
Ann smiled pleasantly, and Claudia groaned.
“Before you throw him anywhere, I need to get my luggage back.” She returned to the sitting room where Peter paged through a magazine and Philip sat across from him with another one, mimicking Peter’s moves ever so slightly.
When he saw Claudia, Peter stood quickly and grinned at Philip.
“My shadow here made sure I didn’t steal the silver. Hey buddy, could you give us some privacy for a little bit? I don’t blame you if you want to stay within shouting distance. I have a few things to clear up with Claudia though, and it would be uncomfortable to do with a bodyguard here.”
Philip looked at Claudia, who nodded. He sauntered away, his nonchalant exit spoiled when he tripped on a wrinkle in the rug.
“He just did that to make me feel better,” Peter told Claudia. “I almost fell over that same spot on the way in.”
Philip tried to maintain his suspicious sulk but Claudia wondered if Peter puzzled him. Teen boys tended to like their villains more villainous.
Peter shut the door, and Claudia settled into an armchair to make sure he couldn’t sit next to her. With a slight shrug he sat back down on the sofa.
“I know you’re furious with me, and I don’t blame you. But honey, what on earth were you thinking, leaving that gas station so soon?”
“So soon? Did you want me to move in there? Settle down?”
“C’mon Claude, I know we haven’t been together very long. But what kind of jerk do you think I am? When you...” He lowered his voice. “When you told me flat out you didn’t want our relationship to get any more intimate, I have to admit I was hurt. Good grief, I don’t proposition women on a regular basis. I wanted to prove how special I think you are and didn’t handle it well when you didn’t reciprocate. I just needed to cool off, so I drove around and I, um...” he trailed off.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
“I got lost. I took a few odd turns on side roads and figured I would work my way back. Drop me in the middle of Chicago blindfolded and I won’t get lost. Up h
ere I just got confused. Do you know they don’t plot roads in square blocks up here? It felt being lost in the Arctic Circle.”
“The Arctic Circle doesn’t have trees.”
“Well anyway, I got lost and by the time I finally found the gas station you were gone and nobody seemed eager to share your location. They also took great delight in informing me I’d get no cell phone service up here.” He paused in reluctant admiration. “I don’t know what you told them about me. That I’m an escaped ax murderer? Cold War Spy? Illegal logger?”
“What were they supposed to think, Peter? What was I supposed to think? You took off with my luggage and left me stranded, and it happened right after I told you we wouldn’t be sharing a hotel room that night.”
“I know, I know. Did I ever try to hide the fact that I’m an inept cretin?”
“It’s impossible to disguise since cretinism is a physical condition. You have no excuse.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I had to fall for a journalist. So I read you wrong. I do that a lot. I can be insensitive and make presuppositions and my ego gets bruised way too easily.”
“And it took you over three days to find me?”
“Yes, that is my one redeeming feature. No, really, do you know how many directions you could have gone? To your sister’s—”
Claudia yelped. “You didn’t tell my sister! If she goes into early labor, I’m blaming you!”
“I’ll choose to ignore that.” Peter was indignant. “I called your old roommate, told her we’d had a lover’s quarrel, and if she heard from you to tell you to get in touch with me. I drove through several blizzards and started hitting up every town in circumference around the gas station, most of them with populations in the double digits. I hope they don’t communicate with each other about nosy strangers or we may have the FBI on the doorstep.”
“Peter, you make me crazy sometimes. I have a perfect right to be angry, and you have me ready to apologize.”
“Don’t. That’s not my intention, unless it makes you forgive me. In the meantime, it’s getting late, and I know from experience there is hardly anywhere to stay up here. I waited to book a room at this place—what’s it called? The Weary Traveler?—until I got permission from you.” He was smart enough not to look at her through his long eyelashes, but picked up the travel magazine and sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for her response.
“You don’t seriously think I’m going to increase your martyr status by saying you can’t stay here?”
He leaped up to hug her, and Ann entered so quickly Claudia wondered if she’d been watching through the keyhole.
Peter let go of Claudia. “She’s going to let me check in for the night. I can sleep in the garret, the garage, or under the steps.”
“No,” Ann told him, “we’ll put you in the only guest room on the first floor. Two floors below Claudia and just outside the kitchen where I spend most of my time.”
Peter shouted with laughter. “Mrs. Gomer, bless you for taking such good care of my girl. I don’t deserve for you to treat me this well, and I know it. All I can do is try to prove that I’m not a total heel. And Claude, love, your suitcase is right behind the desk in the foyer. I made sure it came in even if I got kicked out.”
Claudia made a grab for the case, but Peter beat her to it.
“Lead on, fair lady,” he grinned and followed her up the stairs. Irritated, she took two steps at a time. The irritation only mounted when they got to the second floor and Peter wasn’t breathing hard. Claudia tried unsuccessfully not to pant as she unlocked her door. At her heels and not waiting for an invitation, Peter walked in and pulled the door shut behind him. She pushed it back open and refused to feel unsophisticated at his knowing smirk.
“The suitcase can go on the bed, please,” she told him, then looked pointedly at the open door and fidgeted for a few seconds, hoping he would leave. Instead he lounged against the back of the settee with hands in pockets and the half smile still on his face. With a resigned sigh she pulled a chain from her backpack and removed a small key. She unlocked and opened the suitcase, rummaged to the bottom, and pulled out a pouch. The watch was inside. Without worrying that she might appear mistrustful, Claudia shook it into her hand.
Peter started, consternation swallowing the grin. “Oh, honey! I didn’t know that was in your luggage! I figured you kept it in the backpack. It wouldn’t have made any difference. I couldn’t have found you any sooner. But you must have been worried.”
“You don’t know the half of it!” Claudia told him about Amos and the search, the deliberate tampering with the fence, and her visit to him in the hospital. “I think he’s coming home tomorrow so I can take it to him soon. And I’ll bet you can’t wait to check out your room downstairs.”
“On that subtle hint,” Peter told her, “I’ll go.” At the door, he flashed a paternal smile and bent to kiss her cheek. She turned away, and his lips landed in the hair behind her ear. For just a second, a flash of anger replaced the paternalism. “Claude, I just wanted to tell you how relieved I am you’re all right.”
Maybe she imagined the anger. “I’m glad you’re OK too, Peter, although I never doubted it. And I appreciate that you looked for me instead of going back to Chicago.” He started to respond, but she held up her hand. “In light of what happened, let’s avoid physical contact, especially kisses. Oh, and Peter? Please don’t call me Claude.” She wasn’t imagining the annoyance. He looked down his chiseled nose.
“Calling you Claude is just a term of endearment,” he said in a chilly voice.
“I know. That is the main reason I’d rather you just call me Claudia. I’ll see you later, Peter.”
He was no sooner down the first set of steps than she turned and attacked her suitcase. Finally she could change out of the clothing she’d been wearing since Monday morning.
They were to eat at the inn again that evening. Claudia had Philip ask his mother if she needed help in the kitchen. He came out beaming. “She said she would love a little help, and not to worry about protocol since you won’t be cooking, just setting things out, which is usually my job, and now thanks to you I have fifteen minutes of pure unadulterated freedom during which I will power nap, and if you see my dad don’t tell him or he might need me.” The last few words whooshed together as he ran out of breath. He had enough oxygen left to scamper around the corner and presumably find a secluded spot to nap.
In the bright kitchen, Claudia shook muffins from a tin and arranged them in a bowl.
Ann peered over the steam of something fragrant bubbling on the stove. “Claudia, I didn’t want to invite Peter to eat here too without your permission. He can always go to Blossom’s.”
“No, I think it’s all right.” Claudia shared what Peter had told her. “It sounds plausible. I mean, I could see someone not familiar with the area getting lost. Don’t you think so?” she added doubtfully.
“Oh, it’s possible. Although he strikes me as a resourceful young man, he wouldn’t be the first person to get lost. I give him kudos for making such an effort to find you, if for no other reason than to return your luggage.”
“You probably figured out by now that Amos’s watch was in the suitcase.”
Ann agreed it had seemed a likely scenario. “The upshot is that I’ll invite Peter to eat here since he no longer tops our blacklist. I’ll let my husband and son know they don’t have to just pretend to be polite and can give him the benefit of a doubt.” She tasted whatever was cooking and turned off the burner under the pot. “I don’t do elaborate dinners. Most of my culinary prowess is poured into breakfasts, so if we don’t eat out at night, we have soups, casseroles, and lots of big salads in the summer.”
“My mom is a pretty creative cook,” Claudia said, “but for the last several years, I’ve eaten dorm food or what I could scrounge while I interned. That divine-smelling, not-elaborate stuff and muffins are heaven for me.”
Peter appreciated the offer of dinner. At the table, he didn’t
overdo his natural charm. On discovering Philip was homeschooled, he said his cousin, who ended up at Yale, had also been homeschooled. Claudia hadn’t known that. He discussed furniture refinishing with Bud. Peter was an antiques expert and interested in several of the pieces in the dining room.
“That’s how we met,” she explained to the Gomers. “I needed some advice on Amos’s watch, and he helped me with the research.”
“My specialty is antique jewelry,” Peter added, “but I know a little about everything, and I’m really getting interested in furniture.”
After dinner the Gomers withdrew to the family quarters—Bud and Ann with tact, Philip under duress. Peter wanted to show Claudia his room. She agreed, but once again left the door wide open. This time Peter ignored it. He had a suite, twice as large as her room, with a king bed and a whirlpool. Claudia walked to the window.
“It’s too dark to be sure, but I think you have a view of the dumpster and the parking lot. Whoa. And a dozen icicles. Look at that one! Does it come all the way from the roof? Looks dangerous.”
She turned back. “From my window I can see Lake Superior.”
“Room with a view? Or room with a whirlpool and king bed? It’s a toss-up, but the whirlpool looks tempting. Care to join me?”
At her withering look, he grinned and flopped back on the bed.
“Just kidding. I remember what made you leave the car in a huff the first time.”
Claudia, too tired to spar with Peter, decided the rules of social niceties didn’t apply to this limbo stage of their relationship and walked out of his suite with nothing more than a waggle of her fingers. She wanted to get a good book from one of the inn’s numerous bookshelves and read it up in her pretty room. Peter followed her into the hall and put a hand on her arm.
“Sorry again, Claudia, that you had to make do without your luggage. But you looked amazingly decent for someone who lived out of a backpack for three days.”
Winter Watch Page 7