Lonely Souls

by Rosemary Fifield

  “Who called it in?” Grant asked John.

  “Claude Bennerup.” John nodded toward the driveway across the road that disappeared into the woods. “I guess Mr. Gilman drove up there for help.”

  “Was he down here when you arrived?”

  “Claude?” John’s face broke into a wide grin. “Uh, no. I got the impression he was, uh, entertaining someone at the time.”

  Alfred Gilman turned toward Grant with a small smile. The bushy white eyebrows over his soft brown eyes moved up and down suggestively. Grant laughed and patted him on the shoulder. Sometimes it was hard to remember that the inability to speak didn’t necessarily mean one shouldn’t be included in the conversation.

  Flashing lights from the approaching ambulance turned everyone’s attention to the road. They had kept the driveway clear of vehicles, and now the ambulance was backing in, its alternating red and white beacons lighting up the night. Two emergency medical technicians jumped out and came up onto the porch. Cynthia Dumaine explained the situation, and one EMT dropped to his knees beside Mrs. Gilman to take her vitals while the other went back to ready the ambulance. Grant helped Alfred Gilman gather his things and close up the house. He had the phone number of Alfred’s daughter, who lived in Tunbridge, and would call her from his parent’s phone. The old man climbed up into the ambulance beside his wife, and the big white doors closed behind him.

  Grant slipped the paper with the phone number into his pocket and walked across the snowy driveway to his truck. He followed the ambulance down the length of Dorlander Pond Road, then turned right onto the state highway while the ambulance turned left. He was halfway home before he remembered that only half an hour before he had been sitting across a table from Corey for the first time in seven years. A warm glow immediately tempered by a hollow yearning came over him. He wouldn’t have traded this evening with her for anything, but, God, now it hurt worse than ever.

  Chapter Five

  Cassie Marsh stood sideways before the mirror in the bedroom she shared with her sister Jeanine. The baby bulge was barely discernible beneath her baggy sweater. She sighed and turned to face her reflection. She would never get this job, and she wanted it so badly. She had been wrong not to tell the man that she was pregnant, but she hadn’t shown as much then and to tell him seemed like it would guarantee her a refusal. Hopefully, the woman would be more understanding about her condition.

  She ran a comb through her long brown hair and studied her face in the mirror. Pregnancy had done wonders for her complexion; she had never had such clear skin. Too bad it had destroyed so many other things. Sonny rarely came around now, and people in town were talking about her, she knew. Her father had gone up to see Claude in a fit of rage and had come home sullen and unapproachable. At first she had feared he and the burly logger had gotten into a fist fight, but Floyd appeared physically untouched. He refused to talk to any of his daughters, however, a difficult feat, to say the least. Since their mother had died two years before, the three girls were all he had left at home.

  If Cassie could just get this job as a live-in housekeeper, perhaps things in her father’s house would be better for everyone else. She was strong as a horse and incredibly healthy; the pregnancy wouldn’t hamper her. But who would hire her knowing she would be delivering in less than five months and that she would want to keep the baby with her on the job?

  She put on her coat and went out to the driveway where she had parked Sonny’s old truck. He had given it to her to use while his license was suspended. When he came to see her now, he came by snowmobile, but it had been at least two weeks. The last time she had seen him was when she drove to the Dayton farm to interview for the job. Sonny had been working inside the ell, building a ramp, and she had stopped to talk to him afterwards. He had seemed distracted at the time, perhaps concentrating on his project, and she had not stayed too long. She hoped he would be there today after she interviewed with the woman.

  She hoped she liked the woman. The thought that she might not had never even entered her mind until now. All the man had said was that the woman had been in an accident and that she needed help around the house but that there would be no heavy lifting or need to care for her personally. In addition, he had said that he would be gone on overnight trips occasionally, and that was why they wanted someone who would live in. Cassie had never thought to ask anything about the woman. She assumed she was the man’s wife and that she would be in her early thirties at most.

  She drove the four miles to Dayton’s thinking about Sonny. The last time they had gone out, they had had their first real argument in over a year, and, of course, it had been about her condition. When she had first told him, he had been too shocked to respond, even in anger. He had simply turned on his heel and walked away, and she did not see nor hear from him for almost a month. When he did come back, he was extremely upset over another incident with his father, and they had managed to avoid the subject of her pregnancy. But two weeks ago they had gone out for pizza, and on the way home he had asked her why she went to bed with Claude Bennerup, of all people. They had both had too many beers, and before she know it, they were parked on the side of the road yelling at each other. She had said things she probably shouldn’t have said, knowing Sonny’s volatile temper, but he had still called her a few days later to tell her about this job. Now she hoped she would have a chance to see him today and maybe make arrangements to talk again. She was counting on his devotion to her to see them through this.

  The turn for the road to Dayton’s farm was almost lost behind a snowbank. She turned the old truck onto the snowy incline and silently thanked Sonny that it had four-wheel drive. Until last week, she had never had occasion to challenge this continuously winding, uphill road. She had been two years behind Corey Dayton in school, and they had never been friends. Corey and Suzanne Miller had been inseparable, and sometimes insufferable, as well. They had both been cheerleaders and stuck on themselves. Cassie had often wondered what a decent guy like Grant McIan ever saw in Corey Dayton, and she was pleased when Corey got pregnant and ended up marrying Allen Sloan instead. Not that Cassie had ever had designs on Grant herself. The McIans were on a different plane. Both his grandfather and his father were graduates of Dartmouth, and Grant had been one of the few in his class to go on to college. Everyone had been surprised when he came back to Chatham to live and even more surprised when he chose to turn his late grandfather’s hunting cabin into his year-round residence. Some people said he still carried the torch for Corey, but Cassie doubted it. He was an independent soul, as traditional a Vermonter as any she had ever known, and when he was ready to get married, he’d get the woman he wanted. But it wouldn’t be the likes of Cassie, and she didn’t much care. For all his faults, she had always had eyes only for Sonny Penfield.

  The parking area in the dooryard at the top of the hill was full of pickup trucks of various ages and states of repair. When Cassie stepped down from the old four-wheel drive, she could hear the sounds of hammers and power saws emanating from the big gray barn that dominated the yard. Sonny had said they were turning it into workshops and apartments, but, true to type, he gave no details. Neither would he tell her what he thought of the whole project, although she suspected he resented the idea of outsiders buying the Dayton farm. Perhaps because he had so often been the object of ridicule himself, he rarely talked about other people, unless it was absolutely necessary for his mental health. Then he poured out his heart to her and her alone. This had been going on ever since they were juniors in high school and she had gone out of her way to be kind to him after one of his brawls with another student. She had loved him then, and she loved him now, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to love her. Still, as far as she knew, he never saw anyone else.

  Shane Freeman had seen her coming and was now crossing the dooryard to meet her. He was so handsome, he looked like he should be modeling suits in the Sears catalog. He’d have to trim his hair though; the huge afro of loose blond curls amused her. He
greeted her by name and led her into the garage and up the ramp to the back door of the house. She left her coat on a hook outside the door and followed him into the warmth of the sun-filled kitchen.

  A young auburn-haired woman was seated at a table set perpendicular to the kitchen window that looked out over the dooryard. She looked up when they entered, and Cassie caught her breath.

  “Shelby, this is Cassie Marsh from Chatham. Cassie, this is Shelby Weaver-North.”

  The young woman smiled and gestured to a chair across the table. “Please sit down.” Cassie sat and tried not to stare, but it was not easy. Shane Freeman had crossed the room to the stove and was pouring coffee into mugs. He brought them each a cup and left the room.

  The woman wrapped her hands around the mug and brought it slowly to her lips. Her eyes were downcast, and Cassie took the opportunity to look at her. She had obviously been very pretty once, with delicate features and big gray-blue eyes and dark auburn hair that framed her face in soft curls. She wore a peach-colored sweatshirt that complemented her hair and complexion, but nothing could soften the impact of the horrible scars that traveled across her face. They ran from her forehead on a diagonal across her nose and into her cheek—a raised, raw web of lines like shattered glass. In addition, the skin on the left side of her face was pocked and pitted as though she had suffered a terrible case of small pox. Cassie fought the repulsive images that ran through her mind of how this face must have looked before it healed. She turned her attention to cooling the coffee in her mug.

  “Well, Cassie, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” the woman said pleasantly.

  Cassie forced herself to look up and into the woman’s eyes. To her surprise, they were looking past her to a spot behind her shoulder.

  The woman was blind.

  “Um, well, I … uh, I’ve lived in Chatham all my life.” She felt flustered and angry. Why hadn’t the man warned her about any of this? “I’m … twenty-five. I live with my dad and two younger sisters, and mostly I’ve taken care of the house and helped my dad with his bookkeeping. He’s got a well-digging business.”

  “You realize this is a live-in position?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could you do this and take care of your dad, too?”

  “Well, my sisters are older now and can keep house. And they can do bookkeeping as well as me.”

  “But why do you want this job? Or perhaps I should ask, do you still want this job?”

  Cassie now openly studied the woman’s face. The latter held her chin high, and there was a dignity in her bearing that said the question was not meant to be self-pitying. Rather, there was almost a defiance in her manner, a strength that Cassie had to admire. She realized she was beginning to like her already.

  “Yes, I do. I guess I’d like to get out of my father’s house and make my own way. Like I said, I’m twenty-five. But, Mrs. North, I have to tell you something.”

  “’Shelby,’ please. Otherwise, I’ll have to call you ‘Ms. Marsh,’” she smiled.

  Cassie’s heart began to pound. “I’m … pregnant. About four and a half months. I didn’t tell your husband that. I’m sorry.”

  Shelby’s face remained impassive as she said, “Cassie, first of all, Shane is not my husband. My husband died four years ago. Now, why didn’t you tell him?”

  Once again Cassie felt the flush of anger at Shane. It was as though he were setting her up for failure. “I’m sorry. About your husband. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s all right.” Shelby’s smile was kind. “But why didn’t you tell Shane?”

  Cassie swallowed hard as she watched the woman’s face. “Because I figured he’d turn me down right away. And I would really like this job. I mean, I know it could be a problem when I go into the hospital, but one of my sisters could take over for a week or so. I know they would.”

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  Cassie drew a deep breath. “I’d want to keep the baby.”

  “Well, of course.”

  “I mean with me.”

  To her surprise, Shelby began to laugh. “Well, Cassie, that sounds great to me. I’d love to have a baby around here. In fact, I think it would be wonderful.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Even if it cries?”

  “You mean, when it cries. Yes, even then.”

  Cassie could hardly believe her ears. She reached across the table to squeeze the woman’s hand, then thought better of it and drew back, clasping her hands in her lap instead. “Mrs. … Shelby, I … would really like to work for you.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled. When can you start?”

  “In half an hour,” Cassie grinned. She wanted to bounce up and down in her chair with excitement.

  Shelby laughed. “How about tomorrow? I’ll have Shane give you a tour of the house, and you can see your room. By the way, do you drive stick shift?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We have a van coming and it’s stick shift.” She turned toward the door to the dinin room and called Shane’s name. He appeared in the doorway, tall and unsmiling, and Shelby asked him to show their new housekeeper the house. As she followed him from the room, Cassie glanced back at the young woman still seated at the table. She had turned her face toward the window, and Cassie thought she saw the gleam of wetness on her pock-marked cheek.

  Cassie followed Shane through the various rooms on the first floor of the old house – the dining room with its ancient flowered wallpaper, the tiny sitting room beside the stairs now filled with stereo equipment, the parlor with its pair of multi-paned, six-over-six windows on each outside wall and its scuffed, wide pine floorboards. Each room had a minimum of furniture, as though they had moved from a miniscule apartment and had yet to grow into this house.

  He led her up the central staircase to the landing with two bedrooms on each side. The large one on the left would be his until he eventually moved into a finished room in the barn. She could have her choice of either one on the right; the others would be guest rooms. Shelby’s room was off the kitchen on the first floor where she would not have to contend with stairs. A moment of panic swept over Cassie. What was she getting herself into, sleeping up here with this man across the hall and Shelby downstairs? What kind of a relationship did they have, anyway? Was he her brother and not her lover, as Cassie had assumed? Or perhaps she was too crippled to make love, and their relationship was purely business. But then, wouldn’t he be looking to get it someplace else? He seemed oblivious to any possible concerns on her part, and she certainly wasn’t going to express them. Well, she could always leave if her worst fears were realized. In the meantime, she would talk to Sonny and see what he knew about them.

  “Do you have any other questions?” the man asked as he paused at the top of the stairs.

  Cassie looked up at his unsmiling face with its odd, almost colorless blue eyes.

  “Just one. Can you tell me what happened to her?”

  The man’s eyebrows pulled into a frown, as though the question were entirely inappropriate. “A car accident, four years ago. Her husband was killed and so was her unborn baby.”

  Cassie’s heart sank as she brought her hand up to her mouth. “Oh my god. That’s why.”

  “Why what?”

  Cassie shifted her eyes away from his. “I’m pregnant. I didn’t tell you. I thought she’d say no when I told her, but she seemed really happy about it. But then, I thought she looked like she was crying.“

  “Don’t worry about it. If she says she wants you here, then she does. Shelby doesn’t pull any punches with anybody.”

  Cassie looked up to meet his cold blue eyes once more. “But you do. Why didn’t you tell me she was blind?”

  Shane’s eyes held hers without flinching. “For the same reason you didn’t tell me you’re pregnant. I didn’t want you to back out before you met her.”

  Cassie pondered that for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. “Does s
he need a wheelchair?”

  “Sometimes. When she has operations on her hips. Right now, she’s using a walker. Eventually we plan to put in one of those electric chairs to carry her up the stairs.”

  To your room? Cassie thought. But no, by then he would be living in the barn apartment. Strange arrangement.

  “Anything else?”

  She wanted to ask what Shelby did all day, but she would find that out soon enough. Instead, she shook her head and followed him down the stairs. Shelby was no longer in the kitchen when they passed through, and Cassie left the house without seeing her again.

  Sonny was unloading insulation from the back of Blake’s truck when Cassie stepped out into the dooryard. She hurried up to him as he turned toward the barn with an armload and grabbed his elbow with both hands. “I got the job!”