Wind Over Marshdale

by Tracy Krauss

  “Yes, it is,” Rachel stated. “It’s only the Mitchells.”

  “The Mitchells?” Tiffany considered the name for a moment. “Are they those friends from the country club with the son? The one who snowboards or races cars or something? He’s so hot!”

  “What about Pierre?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “What about him?” Tiffany asked, examining her nails.

  “I got the impression the other night that you two were, you know, an item.”

  “Oh, my dear sister, Rachel!” Tiffany laughed. “You are so naïve sometimes it hurts! That was strictly business. Pierre is here from Paris to look at my artwork. If he likes what he sees, he might take some back with him to Europe. Imagine the break that could be for me? International recognition.”

  “So sleeping with him might help you make a sale?”

  “You make it sound rather nasty,” Tiffany said. “Besides, Pierre isn’t exactly Quasimoto. I do find him rather attractive. He’s so European.”

  “Girls?” their mother called as she entered the parlor in a flurry. “Have you seen George? I can’t seem to locate him anywhere.” She looked directly at Rachel. “I thought I asked you to change.”

  “Have you checked the wine cellar?” Tiffany suggested, pasting on a facetious grin.

  “Wine cellar? We don’t have a wine cellar. Just what do you mean by that, young lady?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned on her heel to continue her search.

  “What did you mean by that, Tiff?” Rachel asked.

  Tiffany giggled behind her hand, then confided to Rachel, “I think our Georgie has been dipping into the sauce a bit too often lately. And it’s no wonder, with Mother nagging at the poor fellow twenty-four-seven.”

  This revelation was no surprise. Rachel had wondered herself in the past few years if George indulged a little more often than was socially acceptable.

  The doorbell rang. “Ooo! Maybe that’s the Mitchells,” Tiffany exclaimed, smoothing her dress. “How do I look?”

  It was not the Mitchells, however, but their older sister Michelle. Self-confidence emanated from her every movement as she entered the room. She was the epitome of sophistication from her swinging black hair to her sleekly tailored black dress. Things hadn’t changed. She was as intimidating as ever.

  “Hello, Michelle,” Rachel greeted, avoiding her sister’s gaze.

  “Hello, Rachel,” Michelle replied just as coolly. “Mother said you were coming for Christmas.” Neither woman moved to embrace the other. Michelle turned back to the still open door as another figure stepped across the threshold.

  “Ronald,” Rachel nodded woodenly.

  “Rachel,” Ronald replied. Rachel remained stiff as he gave her a peck on the cheek. Some nerve he had to even touch her.

  Her mother’s errand was apparently successful as she reentered the room, this time with George not far behind. “The Mitchells,” she was saying. “George, would you like to fix us all a drink?”

  The doorbell rang again, and the Mitchell family was ushered in. Much to Tiffany’s delight, the middle-aged couple had brought their only son along. Kale Mitchell was as ruddy and muscular a specimen as Tiffany could have asked for. She immediately began flirting by asking all about his penchant for extreme sports.

  Meanwhile, Michelle fell into a deep conversation with Henry Mitchell, also a lawyer, over some pending changes to the criminal code. Her mother and Isabel Mitchell compared notes on the new fitness instructor at the spa, expressing their outrage at the change in schedule. George seemed content to keep the drinks flowing, adding a comment or two when appropriate. Ronald was busy entertaining Mugsy, her mother’s miniature poodle.

  Rachel excused herself, to no one in particular, and headed for the kitchen. The air of pretense in the room was stifling and she needed to get away for a few minutes. It was so much different back home, she thought. At her real home, back on the prairies.

  The realization that she felt more akin to the unpretentious folk of Marshdale than she did to her own family brought a smile to her lips.

  “It’s good to see you smiling,” Ronald said, startling Rachel with his presence.

  “Ronald. I didn’t see you come in.”

  “I see you’re no worse for wear after your time on the western frontier,” he smiled.

  “Really, Ronald. You should travel more,” Rachel replied lightly. “It’s hardly the frontier.”

  “Hmm. Still got a sharpness to your tongue, too, I see,” he mused.

  “Did you want something?” Rachel asked, placing a hand on her hip.

  “Just to talk. I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings.”

  “No hard feelings?” Rachel laughed. “Good one, Ronald.”

  “Well, are there?”

  “Hmm. Let’s see. The fact that you were two-timing on me with my own sister… I don’t know, Ronald. Do you think I should have any hard feelings?” Rachel asked, her tone dripping sarcasm.

  “What’s done is done,” Ronald said with a shrug. “I’m practically part of the family now, so you better get used to it.”

  “Oh, really? Have you asked Michelle to move in with you yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve moved in with her,” Ronald informed. “Her apartment is in a much better location.”

  “How convenient for you,” Rachel clipped.

  “Actually, we’re talking about marriage.”

  “Congratulations. You deserve one another.”

  Ronald cocked his head to one side and smiled. “You always were kind of cute when you got angry,” he mused. He took a step forward and reached for a strand of Rachel’s hair, rubbing it between his fingers.

  “Stop that!” Rachel cried, batting his hand away.

  “And you never needed a lot of make-up to add that certain primitive flush to your complexion,” he continued.

  Just then Michelle walked into the kitchen. “What are you two doing in here?” She looked suspiciously from one to the other. “Everyone’s wondering where you’ve gone.”

  “Just discussing old times, love,” Ronald replied, a practiced smile on his lips. “I’ll go back and put their minds at ease.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he passed.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Michelle asked, her eyes blazing accusation.

  “Nothing.” Rachel turned away. “He followed me in here.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know your tricks. You always pretend to be the innocent, but we both know how manipulative you can be when it suits you.”

  “Manipulative? Ha!” Rachel snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Michelle commanded. “There’s no need to make a spectacle.”

  “Who’s making the spectacle? You’re the one who brought Ronald here this evening. You must have known that bringing him along was in rather poor taste,” Rachel pointed out.

  “That’s ridiculous! Ronald and I have been together for months now. Our relationship isn’t exactly a secret.”

  “But you knew I was coming home for Christmas. You must have known how awkward it would be,” Rachel continued.

  “Oh, grow up, Rachel!” Michelle spat. “I could be just as angry with you for flirting with him in the kitchen while I was right in the next room.”

  “Flirting! I was doing no such thing,” Rachel defended herself hotly.

  “Your blushes seem to be telling a different story,” Michelle noted.

  “You have some nerve. You dare to accuse me, when it was you, my own sister, who was sleeping with my boyfriend behind my back!”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t been such an ice queen he wouldn’t have had to go looking elsewhere,” Michelle threw at her. The words felt like a slap and Rachel was suddenly speechless. Tears were dangerously close and she dared not open her mouth to defend herself for fear she would burst out crying. She’d cried too many tears over Michelle and Ronald and no way would she would shed any more.

  “B
ut don’t worry,” Michelle continued. “There’s bound to be some mediocre male out there somewhere who won’t tire of you so quickly.”

  She wouldn’t stand there any longer and take Michelle’s biting remarks. She’d never won an argument with Michelle yet, and she wasn’t about to try now. Rachel turned without another word and retreated to the den, locking the door behind her.

  ****

  Rachel waited until the very early hours of the morning before calling the cab. She had no desire to start another scene with any one of her family. At about five-thirty a.m., she pulled up in front of Sherri’s parents’ house. She’d called her friend the night before, so they were expecting her. Sherri had left a key outside in the mailbox and she let herself in.

  After depositing her bags near the front entrance, Rachel found her way to the homey family room where the Christmas tree was set up. She plugged in the lights and sat down cross-legged among the unopened presents to stare into the twinkling branches. How different it seemed from the tree in her mother’s parlor. Her mother’s tree was perfect. Perfectly shaped. Perfectly decorated. Perfectly cold. This tree was overladen with mismatched ornaments, most of which hung from the bottom branches within a child’s reach. It was in no way symmetrical, with branches protruding and bare spaces gaping. Yet it embodied the warmth and coziness of a family that loved one another.

  “Did Santa come yet?” a small voice asked with a yawn. Rachel turned to see one of Sherri’s nieces standing in the doorway. The four-year-old was still in her pajamas and she dragged a well-worn teddy by her side.

  “Looks like it,” Rachel observed, looking over at the stockings that were now stuffed to overflowing. “But it’s kind of early. Nobody else is up yet. Come over here, Shayah, and sit with me for a while.”

  The little girl padded on bare feet to Rachel’s side, then curled up in her lap. They snuggled like that for some time, mesmerized by the sparkling tree.

  “See,” Shayah said, pointing to one of the ornaments. “There’s baby Jesus. He’s lyin’ in his munger.”

  “Yes, I see him in his little manger,” Rachel agreed, correctly enunciating the mispronounced word.

  “He was borned at Christmas. It’s his birthday.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Where is he now?” Shayah asked.

  “In heaven, I suppose.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s where he lives.”

  “Why doesn’t he live here?”

  “Well, some people say he does. They say he lives right here in your heart.” Rachel poked the little girl’s chest and she giggled.

  “He must be pretty small,” Shayah observed.

  “He doesn’t live inside of you in that way,” Rachel tried to explain, remembering what Con had said. “He’s God, so he is very, very big. He’s everywhere and he helps people to be good.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, because he’s God and that’s what he does.”

  “I been good,” Shayah announced.

  “That’s good.”

  “So Santa comed.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “How does Santa get to all the houses?”

  A large male figure loomed in the doorway for a moment, then came shuffling into the room. It was Lawrence, Sherri’s older brother and Shayah’s father. Rachel was glad for the rescue.

  “Hey, Squirt. You’re up awfully early,” Lawrence said, lifting his daughter high in the air. She squealed with delight.

  “Santa comed! Santa comed!”

  Soon the rest of the family began to meander into the family room. There were Sherri and Dan, and her two brothers Lawrence and Grant and their families, along with her parents.

  Before long, the once quiet room became a madhouse of flying Christmas wrap and cries of pleasure and surprise as the gifts were opened. This was what Christmas was all about. The warmth of a caring family.

  No one asked Rachel why she had come to spend Christmas Day with them rather than with her own family. They just accepted her as one of them and carried on.

  Sherri came and sat by her friend. “Kind of a madhouse, huh?”

  “It’s okay. I like it,” Rachel smiled. They sat that way for a bit, just watching, allowing the companionship to envelope them. “I’ve decided to leave early,” she finally admitted. “There’s nothing here for me anymore. I’m flying back the day after tomorrow.”

  “Really? You can’t wait for us on the thirtieth?” Sherri asked.

  “No. I just need to get home. Back to my own space where I can breathe again.”

  It was true. There was absolutely nothing left for her here. Her family had proven that. At least in Marshdale she was needed and had a sense of purpose, even if her heart ached with loneliness. A broken heart was so much easier to endure than a crushed spirit.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Thomas let out another puff of crystalline breath as he shoveled the snow off the narrow walkway leading up to the trailer. It was good to be outdoors using his muscles, breathing in the fresh air. He was an outdoor kind of guy and looked for any excuse he could.

  Their quiet little family Christmas had gone well, he thought and now that the big day itself was over, they could relax and enjoy some down time before the rush of school and work began again. Ryder was hanging out at the Changs and Whisper was playing at Laura Wilson’s house. Whisper seemed to enjoy mothering Laura, the Down syndrome girl, and since she didn’t get many invitations to play at a friend’s house, he said okay. He was all alone. Just him and the rolling prairie hills to the west.

  He continued shoveling until he heard the crunch and pant of someone running up the snow encrusted street. He squinted and recognized it to be one of the Wilson children. “Mr. Lone Wolf!” the boy cried, waving frantically.

  Thomas dropped his shovel and strode in his direction. “What’s wrong?”

  The boy stopped, leaning over and panting for a moment in an effort to catch his breath.

  “What is it? What’s going on?” Thomas asked more urgently.

  “It’s Whisper,” the boy replied between gulps of air. “She… she fell through the ice.”

  “Where?” Thomas demanded. A horrible, sick feeling enveloped him almost instantly.

  “The slough over by the old elevator. I told them not to go on, but—”

  Thomas cut him off. “Take me.”

  They sped the block and a half in Thomas’s SUV to the site of one of the town’s remaining dilapidated grain elevators. It had been scheduled for demolition in the spring. Out behind the train tracks was a pond and on the pond he could make out the form of a person, lying flat on her belly, apparently holding onto something. It was Laura Wilson, holding on for dear life to Whisper, who had fallen through the ice.

  Thomas rummaged for the length of tow rope that he kept stashed in the vehicle and then ran the rest of the way to the slough’s edge. He stepped gingerly onto its snow covered surface and simultaneously heard and felt the give underneath. Stepping off, he tried a fresh spot. When it yielded the same result, he got down on his own stomach and inched his way forward like a snake. “Hang on, girls,” he called. “Just try not to move, okay?”

  “Daddy!” Whisper cried. “I’m cold.”

  “I know, baby. But Daddy’s coming. Just hang on, okay? Don’t let go of Laura’s hand.”

  When he got within ten feet, he took out the rope and tossed it toward Whisper. “Grab the rope, honey, and hang on tight. Kick your feet like you’re swimming. That’s it. Laura, you grab the rope, too and move backwards. Good girl. You’re both doing fine.”

  The hole became larger as Whisper fought her way out, but soon she was up on the surface of the ice. Thomas pulled more quickly and once both girls were near shore and safety, he jumped up and grabbed Whisper’s shivering body.

  “Hey! Help Laura into the vehicle,” he yelled to the boy, dashing for the relative warmth of the vehicle. “Daddy’s got you now. Everything’s gonna be alright. We
need to get you home where it’s warm and dry.”

  Relief pounded through is body, his limbs still vibrating from the increased adrenaline. If anything had happened to his little girl…well, he would never be able to forgive himself. Just the thought of what might have been had he arrived a few moments later was enough to send a fresh wave of fear rolling through his core. Thank the Lord for guardian angels like Laura Wilson.

  ****

  Con sat outside the church, mustering enough courage to go inside and confront the pastor once and for all. The images he’d seen on Todd’s personal computer were enough to make his toes curl. There was no way they’d popped up by accident. Not a video in midstream. Somebody had to call him out on it. It looked like he was that someone.

  He’d thought about sharing what he’d discovered with Ivor, but then thought better of it. The Bible said to settle a dispute one-on-one with someone first. He needed an admission from Todd’s own lips before he could go elsewhere with the information. And he’d decided he wasn’t about to do anything until after Christmas. There was no point in ruining the entire holiday for Carol and the children. But Christmas was over and there was no way he was putting it off until the New Year.

  With a heave, Con pulled himself from his vehicle and trudged toward the now ominous building.

  Con found Todd in his usual place—his office. This time the door was wide open, so Con marched right in. Guess he only needs to lock the door when he’s hiding something, Con scowled. He could hardly stand to look at the man. It made him cringe just thinking about the hypocrisy. The filth.

  “Hello, Con,” Todd greeted. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Answer a couple of questions,” Con stated.

  “Okay,” Todd responded with a friendly smile. “Have a seat. So what’s on your mind?”

  “What were you viewing on your laptop the other night when I came to the church?” Con kept his eyes squarely fixed on Todd’s face. The other man seemed to pale visibly and he blinked several times.