The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  “The whole story? You mean the linking of your name with Michael’s.”

  “That’s the only part that concerns me. You know how it is. If a story is dirty enough, anyone within spitting distance is going to have their turn in the mud. It’s been weeks with no whisper of a scandal and each day that passes means it’s less likely they will print their vile rumors and innuendo. She may have gotten people to talk off-the-record, but I know she’ll never get one person to verify any of that mess on the record. Her reputation would be ruined. She needs ironclad sources for this type of scandal and she’s not getting them. I owe a lot of favors to people who withheld information from the probing eyes of that Colleen woman, but the debts are worth every ounce of effort.”

  Face raised to warm in the sun, Jessica stretched out her legs, propping her cast on the booted toe of her good foot. “Electra, I thought he shot me. I was certain he wanted me dead. Doc McCarthy had a hard time convincing me otherwise.”

  The older woman’s face closed against the horror the young woman experienced. “I know that, Jessica. Like Hoyt and you, he would have done anything to save one of those kids. He was drawn into that hoax as quickly as anyone else.”

  Jessica raised a cautious brow. “Hoax?”

  “I know what happened up there. As I said, it took a lot of favors to keep the story clean for the press. I just hope the truth doesn’t leak out within earshot of that Boston reporter. If it does, I don’t think anyone connected with it will ever be able to rest.” Electra looked at Jessica to make sure her meaning was clear.

  “What do you know about Michael’s business dealings?

  Electra’s eyes darted to the ground. “I don’t know all the details. What I do know is that he made good, solid business deals and created a lot of jobs for a lot of people in these mountains. My own involvement with him was minimal.”

  “But Electra, the deals you were involved in with him were legitimate, right?”

  “To the extent I know about. The due diligence checks I made on my silent partner confirmed much of what I already knew or suspected. Michael made transfers of vast sums of money to Ireland. I understand Michael’s support was for educational and social programs, whatever exactly that means. But I just can’t be associated with a cause or a man that is connected in any way to such violence. I can’t have my dealings with him whispered about. I’ve been forced to liquidate anything that I was a partner to with him. I’ve never come so close to complete disaster and I will never forgive his deceit.”

  “So now you’re sweeping your relationship with Michael under the rug and want to make sure I know the clean story, too.”

  “I want to make sure you know the facts. You’ve heard a lot of things, but what you don’t hear is that he’s the donor to the Franklin School that has kept that institution thriving.”

  Jessica looked at Electra in surprise. “I never heard that. I always heard it was you.”

  “I vowed never to break his promise. I did help him with some of the details of getting the money to them, but it was his money and his desire to help the school. Not mine”

  “So he sent Father Steeves to tell me to keep away from the school hoping that would keep the reporters away, too.”

  “Jessica, so much is being said now about you, the search, everything. The worst thing you could do is to listen to the rumors or put the pieces of information together the wrong way.”

  “Why not? Everyone else has.”

  “Hiding forever or running away again is not the answer. You have to do what you can to start living your own life.”

  Jessica sniffed. “My life? I don’t even know who I really am anymore.”

  “That’s understandable. You’ve been through so much just to be Jessica Wyeth again. You—”

  “Ha! What’s the difference who I am or what I call myself? Tess White, Jessica Wyeth, Murdering Heiress.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “N-nothing. Nothing. Well, it’s everything. I’m just not sure where to start.”

  “I guess I don’t understand, but you are starting over again. If that means you have to talk to Michael, then do it. Just be careful.” Electra waited for a response. Receiving none, she continued. “It will help to heal you.”

  Hot tears threatened to spill as Jessica turned her head away. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “I wish I could put my arms around you and somehow take all the pain away. You just have to find ways to make the healing happen.”

  One tear finally escaped and made a shiny path down Jessica’s cheek. “The past weeks I’ve just been alone here trying to sort all of this out. Everyone blames me for lying to them and for what happened up on that mountain. I want to blame Michael but somehow I can’t. I know I have to leave Perc. I really don’t know how I could stay.” She began to say more and could not.

  Electra stood up and dusted the grit from her skirt. “If it means anything, I don’t want you to leave forever. I think you could have a life here—in time.” Emotion thickened her voice and slowed her words. She sniffed in forcefully and lifted her chin. “Jessica. You got caught in something that was too horrible to understand. You have to do what you can to put this behind you. Well, then. I’ve said all I need to. Do you need help mounting up?”

  Jessica hopped over to Snugs and hoisted herself on to the horse’s back. With the cast, she was a little clumsy, but she refused any help. “No thanks. I’ve got my crutches in the barn.” She started to turn the horse away and stopped.

  “Electra, thank you. You did a lot to get me established here. If Perc could turn its back on you, then I don’t stand a chance.”

  April 1996

  IT TOOK A little while after her conversation with Electra, but Jessica determined to stop avoiding Michael’s calls and invite him over for a long, private talk. The woman was right. There was still much Jessica had to make sense of and talking with Michael would be the only way she could truly put this whole ordeal behind her. Without that, she could never move on.

  Michael arrived when she was out in the barn watching Snugs and Phoenix in their stall. The leather chaps worn over her jeans were smudged with dirt and oats from the day’s chores. She turned when she heard his footfalls grind grit on the cement floor of the barn. They looked at each other for a long time in awkward silence.

  “‘Evening.”

  “‘Evening,” she murmured in reply.

  “I’m glad you finally called. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I needed time to think. Besides, you’ve been out of town a while.”

  “Just business. When did you get your cast off?” Michael took a step closer and looked at her with concern. He was wearing only a worn pair of jeans and a denim shirt on this warm night.

  “A couple of days ago. Doc McCarthy says I can start to ride again.”

  “‘Start’?”

  Jessica put her head back and laughed. “You’ve been speaking with Electra?”

  He half grinned, pausing for a moment to look into her eyes. “No. Definitely not Electra. I heard it from one of the guys who was working on your barn. Said you were nuts.” He glanced around the barn, assessing the progress of the construction. “The stable’s looking pretty good. When will it be finished?”

  “Soon. More wiring is needed before the finish work on the structure can be done. Gas pipes for the new heaters are in and the plumbing’s done, just waiting for the final touches there. A few more details, but overall the frame’s complete.” She turned to throw more hay into the stall and winced. The motion reminded her she still had to take it easy.

  “Here. Let me do that.” Michael threw the hay into the rack and looked at the mare and her colt. “They look great. You’re doing a nice job with them.”

  “Thanks,” she said, eyes downcast. “Why did you tell me they belonged to a friend of yours?”
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br />   Snugs came over and gave Michael a shove with her muzzle. He rubbed the big mare’s forehead. “Pretty simple, really. I just didn’t think you or anyone else needed to know Snugs was my horse. I bought them a while ago from a family that needed the money. I found out she was in foal after I brought her back to my farm. God knows, I know nothing about handling a mare in delivery and felt you’d be the best person to care for her.” He studied Jessica as he continued. “I figured you needed to care for them more than I did. At the time, I also figured they were a good way to root you in Perc.”

  Jessica scuffed her heel in the dirt. “There are a lot of reasons why I feel I have to leave here now.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “I don’t know. I just want someplace safe.”

  “That’ll have more to do with the people than the place.”

  Silence overtook them again and they stood uncomfortably in the corridor of the barn.

  Jessica spoke first. “Look. I really don’t know where to begin. I need some answers if I’m ever going to stop being afraid.” Free from crutches, she tried her best to hide her limp as she walked over to a bale of hay and sat down. The bone had mended, but the muscles were not accustomed to bearing weight and her leg ached to the core. She used an overturned bucket to prop it up.

  Michael pulled another bale around and sat down so he was facing her. Arms resting on his knees, he bent his head down and took a deep breath. “There’s a lot I want to tell you, I just don’t know where to start. You need to know that when you first came to Perc, I had no idea who you were or why you came here. It didn’t take too long for me to figure out you were hiding from something.”

  “Electra said you and I were a lot alike.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. We were both running from something that had to be faced.” He leaned forward and took her hands into his. “Jessica, I knew for certain how our lives were connected the night you ran to Boston. I thought that if you ever found out who I was, you’d disappear again and I’d never find you. I did what I had to do to find you and to keep you alive.”

  “I guess you did. I just need to know if this is over or not.”

  “I hope it’s over for you, Jessica. I know it’s not for me.”

  Jessica looked at him coolly and weighed his words against what Shea had told her. “I can’t say I’m sorry about your father’s death.”

  The sheriff stood up and leaned against a beam, his back to her. He repeated what he told Colleen. “No defendant. No case. No trial.”

  “And I know that means no investigations and no further inquiries. All nice and neat.” She paused and put an edge of sarcasm in her voice. “Such a coincidence.”

  Michael ignored her suggestion. “The father I knew as a boy died somewhere along the road. He killed my mother because she saw other ways of helping and taught me those ways. He killed my brother because he didn’t have the skills needed to lead. My father became all that I hated.”

  “I thought his death and the death of his henchman would mean that no one would be after either of us.”

  “There are a lot of men who want his money and his power as their own. He followed his father’s footsteps to America and to the Charity. And he wanted a son to follow in his.”

  “You?”

  “I wasn’t his first choice. He groomed my brother as his successor. With my father dead, I can do little to keep the organization together. I’m not sure I even want to. The bombing in London is just the start of the battle for control. I can’t do anything more from over here.”

  “What about the money?”

  “I’ve transferred most of it to my uncle who lives in Northern Ireland. With the bombing resumed, he needs it to convince people to stop killing. He’ll use the money to help build more schools and create jobs. Without a stable economy or solid social environment, no one has an incentive to stop fighting and negotiate for unification peacefully. There are a few men who would do anything to control the organization. I have to trust my uncle for now.”

  Jessica brought her hands up to her face and tried to rub away her confusion. The past weeks spent recovering had been long for her. Shunning all visitors and unable to be active, she spent too much time lying in bed thinking about what had happened to her and why. She understood the passion people felt for the reunification of a mother country viewed as unjustly divided. She understood the oppression at the hands of an outside power and the lack of sovereignty over one’s own life such oppression could engender. But she could never understand the killing of innocent people to gain a political edge or civil subservience.

  Exhaling a long, slow breath, she asked, “What I don’t understand is why?”

  Michael put his head down again and shook it slowly. “Killing was the way he kept the most power. The dead can’t be a problem.”

  “Is that why you think it’s not over for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why stay here when it’s so dangerous? That reporter has it in for you. You know as well as I do that if she ever gets the supporting facts and prints her story, the fine citizens of Perc will drum you out of town right on my heels if a bomb doesn’t get you first.” Jessica stretched out her legs and shifted her weight.

  Michael noticed her discomfort and stopped talking. “Come on. If you’re up to it, I know a beautiful spot not too far from here. Let’s take a drive.”

  He helped her into his truck and drove the rest of the way up the mountain road and far up into the hills, along a ridge leading away from Jessica’s plateau. Trees on either side of the dirt road hid their view until they came into a large clearing. The sight was spectacular. One side of the clearing fell away, leaving only a clear expanse of the Pine Mountains, the valley and the silver ribbon of river winding through it. On the other side, the hills came down and formed a small pond, fed by a waterfall and brook overflowing with the winter’s melt and spring rains.

  Michael inched his truck over large ruts and rounded the final bend. A cabin with a large covered front porch and tin roof stood on an outcropping of rock overlooking the pond.

  “My God, this is so beautiful!” Jessica exclaimed as Michael helped her out of the truck. He slipped an arm around her waist, careful to be gentle, and guided her to stand on the ground.

  Jessica stood still, wondering if she should move away, but not wanting to.

  “It’s one of my favorite places,” Michael said. “The sun sets just over that distant peak this time of year, flooding this whole plateau with light. It’s just great.”

  “I never would have known it was here! How did you find it?”

  Michael kept his arm around her as they made their way up to the cabin. Jessica was aware of how Michael brought his face close to her and how his lips barely touched her hair. Two old wooden chairs, handcrafted in the old Adirondack style, graced the porch. He helped her settle down in one and sat in the other.

  “This was the first piece of property Lainely showed me. I bought it that afternoon. I love it here.” His slate blue eyes nearly glowed as he looked over his land.

  Jessica frowned at the mention of Lainely. “I heard from Lainely and others that you wanted my farm.”

  “That’s a great spot there, too. I admired it and Lainely worked on me to get me to buy it. I think she thought my buying her uncle’s farm would somehow connect her and me closer together.” A glint flashed in his eye. “She’s a bit aggressive like that, you know.”

  Jessica allowed herself a quick smile but refused to be sidetracked. “What about her aunt and uncle dying on the farm?”

  A gentle wind picked up, bringing a scattering of leaves across the wooden planks of the porch. “A few people said Lainely was responsible for their deaths because she wanted to sell the farm to me. It was nothing more than old age and hard work, but the rumors were pretty vicious. And sometimes in small towns the rumors are much m
ore interesting to talk about than the truth.”

  “Mmm,” Jessica said, mulling over his observation, “The truth can even change depending upon who you talk to.”

  “I know. You and I both tried to create a life here, in a sense to create a truth, but failed.”

  Jessica listened to his words and carefully watched his face for any hint of deception as he talked. Whether it was his eyes or tone of voice, something began to change in her. They sat for a long time with only the sounds of the meadow and the distant rush of the waterfall meeting their ears. Jessica noticed a cloud fall around Michael’s face as he spoke.

  “And Shea?”

  Jessica lowered her head, hair covering her face as grief washed over her. “It took me a long time before I finally believed he was dead. I will never forget him and I owe him so much. I would never have been able to repay my debt to him.”

  “You didn’t go to his services.”

  “No. I know he would have understood that for me to go to Boston would have exposed me too much to reporters and, well, others. Like me, he had no one to reach out to and that made our relationship a bit, well, complicated. I spoke with Abbey and she agreed with me. There will be time to remember him.”

  Michael looked relieved. “From the moment I met Shea in his office, I knew that he cared for your case far beyond merely professional boundaries. I’m sorry about his death, but I’ll be frank, I’m glad it was just a professional relationship as far as you were concerned.”

  “Yes. Always.” Jessica paused for a moment considering her next statement, deciding to tackle her biggest questions head on. “But he warned me to stay away from you. He told me about your connection to the Charity. I thought you wanted me dead because I knew too much.”

  “My God, Jessica! No! I never wanted you dead, especially for that.”

  “But you hunted me down like an animal and put a gun to my face. Twice.”

  “I did what I had to do in that alley to keep you alive. On the mountain, I would never have been able to get a clean shot if you hadn’t moved the instant you did. I thought you knew that.”