Finders Keepers

by Catherine Palmer

  “On his desk?”

  “Stretched out right across the top, napping like a baby.” He leaned toward the living area. “Come on, Boompah, Nick. Soup’s on.”

  “I thought we were having spaghetti,” Nick said.

  “Pasta,” Elizabeth said. “It’s kind of like spaghetti, only different.”

  “But Zachary said soup.”

  “It’s one of those American idioms,” Boompah explained. “Soup’s on. You’ve got a bee in your bucket. Early bird catches the worm. Deaf as a doorknob. Ach, my little Nikolai, these idioms go on and on, and usually they make no sense. No sense at all.”

  “Oh, bother,” Nick said.

  “In Germany we have such sayings: Der Apfel fällt nicht weit vom Stamm—the apple does not fall far from the tree. Means, the son is like the father, you see?”

  “But I don’t have a father,” Nick said. His big green eyes turned imploringly to Zachary. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Yeah, well … uh …” Zachary cleared his throat. “Here in America, the idiom is He’s a chip off the old block.”

  Elizabeth pulled back the chair next to hers. “Sit down, Nikolai Hayes, and we’ll have no more talk of fathers tonight. I’ve warned you once, and this is the last time. You’ll lose cartoons tomorrow if you can’t obey me.”

  “Cartoons?” He hopped into the chair and folded his hands. “Not that! Let’s pray. Dear God, please help me to be a good boy and not talk about fathers, even if I wish I could be a chip off somebody’s old block. Amen.”

  Elizabeth stared at her son in dismay as Zachary and Boompah broke into laughter. “Nick, did you realize that the grown-ups haven’t even had a chance to sit down?”

  “But I needed to talk to God right then.”

  “He’s got a point, Elizabeth,” Zachary said, taking the chair across from hers. “When you gotta pray, you gotta pray.”

  “Amen,” Boompah said. “Pass the pasta. I’m so hungry I could eat a cow.”

  “How many children do you have, Boompah?” Nick asked as they sat on Zachary’s balcony watching a pink-and-gold sunset filter across the waters of the Missouri River. “You’re so old, you could be a grandfather.”

  “Ach, ja, I am very old man,” Boompah said. “But I was never married in all my life. I have not even one child.”

  Zachary carried his teacup to the green iron bench and sat down beside Elizabeth. Perfect. For once in Nick’s young life, the little boy had thought ahead. Leaving the seat beside his mother empty was a stroke of genius, and Zachary would have to give the child a high five for it.

  “I wrote your name on my family tree for the grandfather, Boompah,” Nick said, “but I’m not telling who I put in the father’s place, because I don’t want to lose cartoons and be off lemons.”

  “Well, I can be like a grandfather,” Boompah said, taking a sip of tea. “Among the Roma, the old people are respected very much. Not like here in America where the young laugh at an old man and steal gumballs from his machines when he’s not looking. Old people have lived many years, and we Gypsies know this means they can be very wise.”

  “I was a wise man in the Christmas play last year,” Nick informed him. “I was supposed to say, ‘Mary, the mother of Jesus, I bring frankincense to honor the king.’ But I said it all backwards and upside down, and I put in fathers and queens, and everybody laughed.”

  “Even wise men sometimes make mistakes, Nikolai. Is not a problem, because God always knows what we are trying to say to him.”

  As the old man and the child carried on their earnest conversation, Zachary studied them. Nick’s longing for a father echoed his own heart’s desire. In fact, without realizing what he was doing, Zachary had allowed Boompah to take a fatherly role in his life. He enjoyed spending time with the old man, loved listening to his stories, often asked him for advice, and did all he could to help him.

  But a person could never depend on an earthly father, Zachary had learned. Nick’s father had abandoned his son. Zachary’s father had proven himself too lazy and irresponsible to support his children. Elizabeth’s father had simply died.

  Boompah would die one day. That fact was becoming ever more clear. Nick adored the aging Gypsy, and so did Zachary. Was it worth the risk of loving someone—even if you couldn’t count on them? Zachary had taken business risks throughout his career. But to step out in faith with a personal relationship?

  “Why didn’t you ever get married, Boompah?” Nick asked.

  “Ach, I was never lucky in love.”

  “That’s what Grace used to say! That very thing, huh, Mom?”

  Elizabeth lifted her head from the back of the iron bench. “Yes, Nick, that’s what she always said.”

  “Well, Boompah, why didn’t you marry Grace?” Nick demanded. “Then both of you could have been lucky in love.”

  “Grace Chalmers was far above me, you know? I am a poor Gypsy who barely escapes from Adolf Hitler’s gas chambers. I sail to America and sell vegetables that I grow on my little parcel of land near the Missouri River. But Grace Chalmers, ach, she is beautiful and rich and very elegant, like a princess. She has fathers and grandfathers who built the town of Ambleside. Me, I grew up in a caravan.”

  “But you own the Corner Market.”

  “Even when I am richer with my own grocery store, I know Grace lives in that big mansion. No, Nikolai, she is not for me.”

  Zachary leaned forward. “Boompah, you’ve lived in Ambleside a long time. What do you think I should do with Chalmers House?”

  The old man sat in silence, staring out over the river and swaying gently back and forth in the green metal rocking chair. “You ask me a difficult question, my boy,” he said finally. “I cannot know the plans God has for that old house. But one thing I learned from my years in the old country. One Roma must not fight against another Roma, or both might be captured and swallowed by the force of evil that is very great in this world.”

  “Are you talking about the nachos again, Boompah?” Nick asked.

  “No,” Zachary said, leaning back on the bench and slipping his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “He’s talking about your mother and me.”

  ELEVEN

  Elizabeth grabbed her broom and headed out the door of Finders Keepers. After last night’s dinner at Zachary’s apartment, it was clear that her life was a topsy-turvy tangle of confused emotions and uncertain pathways. In the midst of all that mess, only a few things stood out clearly. She must take care of Nick. She must keep her shop running. And, God help her, she must plunge forward into the unknown with Zachary Chalmers.

  As she swept the front steps, Elizabeth pondered the effect Zachary might have on Nick’s fragile young heart. Was it fair of her to let this man into her son’s life, when at any time Zachary could decide to flee? The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to hurt Nick, dash his hopes, and betray his dreams. There was no guarantee that Zachary would ever become a permanent part of their lives. But after last night, how could she turn away from him again?

  Pausing in her sweeping, Elizabeth studied the old Chalmers mansion as she reflected on the feel of Zachary’s strong arm drawing her close. Out with the old, in with the new? Losing that magnificent building filled with memories and traditions would be all but unbearable, Elizabeth realized. But how wonderful it had felt to rest her head on Zachary’s chest and hear the solid beat of his heart. Yet it wasn’t enough just to revel in the warmth of his embrace or drift off in pleasure at the sound of his voice and the green depths of his eyes. If that had been all there was to the man, she could have resisted him.

  No, God had brought Zachary Chalmers into the life of Elizabeth and her son. Of that she was now sure. Zachary matched her in spirit and intellect. The Lord had led them onto the same path, and their faith was growing through their union. Zachary challenged and delighted and restored Elizabeth. And she had made up her mind to stand by his side until God pointed out another path.

  Turning away from the mansion, she gave her bro
om a whack on the curb to shake the dust into the street. God, please protect my son from harm! her heart lifted up. Don’t let Zachary abandon Nick, please, Father. I’m not sure either of us could bear the pain of that loss. And Lord, show me how to put aside my hurt about Zachary’s plans for the mansion, so that I can be a better—

  “Yoo-hoo!” Pearlene pranced down the sidewalk in the latest summer wear from one of her favorite New York designers. “How are you this morning, Liz? Did I hear that you and Zachary had dinner together last night at his place? Well, that is just so romantic. After the disaster at our house, Phil swore you two would never speak to each other again. But I told him I thought love was more powerful than any argument about a dumb old church in Jeff City. Am I right? Well, am I?”

  Elizabeth drank down a breath for fortitude. “It was a foursome, actually. Boompah and Nick were at dinner, too.”

  “Oh, now don’t try to pull that one on me. I know why Zachary had you over, and it doesn’t matter who else was there just for show. He’s set his cap for you, gal. If you’re not the next bride walking down that aisle at Ambleside Chapel, I’ll eat my hat.”

  Elizabeth gave her broom another whack. “Pearlene,” she began, and then she looked into the woman’s warm brown eyes. Lord, help me to love Pearlene.

  “Do what, hon?”

  “I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

  “You said my name. What did you want?”

  “I wanted to … to thank you for your friendship.” Elizabeth clutched her broom handle. “I wanted to say that you’re right, Pearlene. I do care about Zachary.”

  “I knew it! Good gravy, anybody with two eyes can see that!”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, sure. I knew that problem over the mansion was going to vanish just like a dandelion in a gust of wind.” She took a step closer and leaned over conspiratorially. “If you had ahold of that town charter, you’d see that it’s just a piece of dried-up, yellow paper. No judge is going to look at it twice.”

  “Well, it’s very old. I’m sure it’s authentic.”

  “Sure it’s old, and so is my husband. That doesn’t make either of them worth much.” She laughed for a moment. “Phil thinks that charter is some kind of a big deal, but I’ve signed contracts before, you know, and I understand how things work in the business world. I’m not as dumb as some people might think.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I told Phil he ought to leave that charter over at the courthouse where he found it, but no. He’s got to treat it like it was some kind of a message from the king of England himself.”

  “Where’s he keeping it?”

  “Oh, we’ve got a safe over at the house. He stores a little cash in there, his fishing license, his mama’s wedding ring. Stuff like that. We don’t have much that’s valuable, don’t you know.” She smoothed down the linen fabric of her new dress. “I’ll tell you what. Just because you’re such a good friend, I’ll get you that charter and you can make yourself a photocopy. Phil would just kill me if he found out I’d done it, but you know what? I don’t much care. I’m tired of all these secret doings of his. He’s keeping you and Zachary apart, and that’s just not right.”

  Elizabeth moistened her lips. “Now, Pearlene, I don’t want you to get into trouble with your husband.”

  “Good gravy, I’ve done a lot worse than raid the safe and give away a stupid old town charter. Do you know one time I washed every one of his white shirts with a brand-new red towel? He liked to died.”

  “But that was an accident.”

  “Says who?” She smiled. “We use blue towels in our bathroom, don’t you know.”

  “Oh, Pearlene.”

  “If you had a copy of that town charter, you’d be able to make sure Zachary can keep the mansion. Then the two of you can figure out what he ought to do with it.”

  “He’s going to build his offices. I can’t hope for anything else.”

  “Good, and then we can just drop the whole subject. There’s nothing worse than trouble between a man and a woman. Although it can make for some funny times when you get to thinking about it later.” Pearlene got a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Do you know what I did to Phil one time? I accidentally put a bottle of Nair right where Phil always keeps his shampoo on that little rack in the shower, you know? You should have seen the look on that man’s face when his hair took to falling out in big old clumps. I thought I’d about bust laughing. I told him it’d grow back, but he hollered so loud I was scared the whole house would fall down. Now that one was an accident, but I still took the blame for it.” She grew serious. “Phil had to wear a hat to work for a good three weeks.”

  “Wow, that’s awful.”

  “He won’t be half as mad about the town charter as he was about the Nair, I’ll guarantee.” Brightening, she gave Elizabeth a wink. “I’ll bring it to you right after lunch.”

  “That’s very kind.”

  “I’m doing it for love,” Pearlene said, turning on her shiny, white patent leather pumps and sashaying back to Très Chic. “All for love!”

  Zachary spotted Elizabeth standing on the deep porch of a low, turn-of-the-century bungalow near the town square. As he slowed his car, he recognized the man she was talking to. Luke Easton’s head was bent, his hand covering his eyes. He was Montgomery’s father and the husband of Ellie Easton, whose life hung by a thread. Elizabeth reached out, slipped her arms around the man, and drew him close.

  She’s only comforting him, Zachary thought, but he felt a twist in his gut as his foot moved to the brake. She’s mine. Don’t get too close, Luke. Elizabeth belongs to me.

  These thoughts rocked him. Wait a minute. Elizabeth didn’t belong to anyone. She was a strong, independent woman, and she was merely ministering to a friend.

  All the same, Zachary parked, got out of his car, and started across the street. He didn’t know the Easton family well, but he’d met little red-haired Montgomery more than once. Surely it wouldn’t be out of place for him to extend his sympathies.

  Even as he walked up the sidewalk to the house, Zachary had to admit that his motivations were wrong. He suddenly wondered what in the world he was doing. Unbidden, a prayer popped into his mind. Lord, help me out here. This man is hurting.

  “Hey, Elizabeth,” he said, stepping up onto the porch.

  She detached from Luke Easton. “Oh, Zachary, I’m so glad you’ve come.” Her voice quavered as she held out a hand to him. “We’ve just lost Ellie.”

  In an instant, she was in his arms, her tears wetting his shirt. Luke moved to the edge of the porch, his face in his hands. Zachary drew Elizabeth close and covered her warm, damp hair with his hand. How could he have been thinking only of himself? What if he were Luke Easton now? What if he’d just lost his wife? What if he lost Elizabeth?

  “Luke, I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching out to the man. “What can I do to help you? Can I call someone?”

  “The home health provider is here,” Elizabeth answered softly. “They’re taking care of things. Oh, Zachary, I’m so worried about Montgomery. She’s going to be devastated.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She and Nick are at the library. Ellie slipped into a coma earlier today, and Ruby said she’d watch the children for a few hours.”

  “I’ll go get both kids.” He moved away from Elizabeth. “Luke, do you want me to call Pastor Paul?”

  The man lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed. “What for?” he demanded, his voice gravelly. “What good’s a preacher going to do me now?”

  Zachary drew back at the anguish etched in Luke’s handsome face. Anger mingled there with pain, sorrow, torment, agony. The man’s thick brown hair was matted and disarrayed, as though he hadn’t combed it in days. Bruises of sleeplessness darkened the skin beneath his eyes. Sweat stained the collar of his blue chambray work shirt.

  “I’ve gone to church every Sunday of my life,” he said bitterly, “and what did God ever do for me? I begged him
to let Ellie live. But she’s dead. Dead.”

  “Luke,” Elizabeth said, “I think you ought to sit down.”

  “You should see my wife in there,” he went on, his eyes fiery as he addressed Zachary. “She’s got plastic tubes coming out of everywhere, her face is swollen, her eyes … they shaved off her hair … her beautiful red hair … and the scars they left on her head—” He grabbed Zachary’s shirtsleeve in his fist and gave it a twist. “You want to go fetch God for me now? You want to bring the preacher over and let him say his prayers? I’ve been calling out to God for weeks, and he hasn’t heard a thing I’ve said. Nothing!”

  “Luke,” Elizabeth said, taking the man’s shoulders. “Please come over here to the swing with me, and we’ll sit together. You haven’t slept for days. You need to rest. Come on, now.”

  Wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, she led Luke across the porch. Zachary watched as she seated him on the old white swing and tucked a pillow behind his back. Taking his hand, she spoke in a low voice for a moment, the voice of a mother to a child.

  “Zachary,” she said, crossing the porch to his side. “You’d better call Pastor Paul. I don’t understand why Luke is acting this way. The things he’s saying—he’s scaring me.”

  “He’s going through hell.”

  “But he’s a deacon, and he’s always been so … so …”

  “He loved his wife, Elizabeth. He’s lost the woman he loved.”

  “I know.” She nodded, brushing a tear from her cheek. “She went into a coma, and then she just stopped breathing. She just … just didn’t breathe anymore.”

  “Are you OK?”

  “I don’t know how to make things better.”

  “Stay here with Luke. I’ll go get Montgomery and Nick.”

  He turned, but she caught his hand and pulled something from the pocket of her slacks. “I’m supposed to give you this. It’s the town charter. Pearlene made you a copy of it.” She pressed the document into his palm. “Fight for what’s yours, Zachary.”