Jericho

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Jericho Page 4

by Ann McMan


  “So, Roma Jean . . . are you going to be at the fire department barbecue tomorrow?” Syd asked, in an attempt to ease Roma Jean’s discomfort.

  Roma Jean looked up at Syd gratefully. “I think so. I get off at three, so I should be able to make it. My dad is helping out with the cooking.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard. Everyone says it’s the best barbecue around.”

  “I have to say that I’m not much of a barbecue fan, generally, but I look forward to this event every year.” Maddie grinned at Roma Jean. “To tell the truth, it’s really your mom’s hushpuppies that draw me out. They’re amazing.”

  Roma Jean gaped at Maddie. “Honey,” she blurted out.

  Maddie gave her a confused smile. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s honey,” a flustered Roma Jean explained. “She puts honey in the batter.” Her cheeks continued to blaze as she quickly looked away and handed Syd her change and receipt.

  “Ah.” Maddie grinned at her. “So that’s the secret.”

  It was hard for Syd not to laugh at Roma Jean’s distress. She clearly had a super-sized crush on the good-looking doctor. It was written all over her face. She stole a discreet look at Maddie to see if she was aware of it, but Maddie seemed oblivious as she piled the remainder of her items on the checkout counter. Syd had never witnessed a bona fide swoon before, but when Maddie stepped forward, and Roma Jean looked up into her clear, blue eyes, she thought she might just get her chance.

  She decided that expediting their transaction and getting out of the store was the best way to rescue Roma Jean from complete mortification.

  “Here, Roma Jean, let me help bag these things.” Syd walked around to the other side of the counter and started packing their groceries into paper sacks.

  Maddie laughed. “You must really be hungry.” She swiped her debit card through the reader and punched in her PIN. “Maybe we should have opted for the pizza after all.” Her smile was dazzling, and its full-frontal, close range impact was nearly the undoing of poor Roma Jean. She looked like she was about to pass out.

  Syd gave Roma Jean what she hoped was a reassuring nudge. “Dr. Stevenson is taking pity on me. I didn’t realize that none of the restaurants around here stay open past seven.” Roma Jean’s eyes were like saucers. “She’s kindly going to feed me some dinner.”

  Maddie took the receipt that Roma Jean dumbly held out. “Thanks, kiddo. Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow at the barbecue?”

  Roma Jean just nodded as Syd and Maddie collected their bags and prepared to leave the store.

  “Wait a second,” Maddie said to Syd. She stopped, dug into one of the bags, and pulled out the box of Vanilla Wafers. Smiling, she turned and handed it to Roma Jean. “Maybe these will help sweeten the rest of your shift tonight.” She winked at her and walked out of the store.

  Syd sighed and slowly shook her head as she followed Maddie into the parking lot. The poor kid was a real goner, now.

  SYD WAS SURPRISED when Maddie stopped next to a small, silver Lexus Coupe. She hit a button on her key ring and the trunk lid popped open. After stashing her bags in the trunk behind a mesh cargo net, she turned to Syd.

  “Do you wanna put your cold stuff in here so we can carry it on into the house with us?”

  Syd stepped forward. “Sure. Good idea.” She handed her the bag with her dairy items. Looking over the sporty, hardtop convertible, she gave a low whistle. “Did the Jeep get a makeover?”

  Maddie gave her an innocent look. “Oh, this old thing?” she drawled. “I don’t drive it much—the roads around here just beat the crap out of it.” She chuckled. “Not that Philly was much better.”

  “I’ve always loved cars that look like they’re going ninety miles an hour when they’re parked.” Syd knew her gaze was lustful. She touched the car’s retractable top with her free hand.

  Maddie affected an ostentatious southern accent. “Why, Miss Murphy. I never would have expected you to be so shallow.”

  “Oh, no . . . I love my creature comforts, all right. So, please, allow me these few moments of living vicariously. I don’t get many opportunities these days.”

  Maddie laughed good-naturedly. “Look. Why don’t you just stash the rest of your stuff in the trunk and ride with me? I can run you right back out here after we eat. It’s not far at all.”

  Syd looked up into her blue eyes, and for just a moment, she identified with Roma Jean’s lapse in composure. Maddie’s high-voltage smile at close range really was unsettling. She found herself wondering why this beautiful woman was unattached. There had to be some kind of story there.

  “Okay, if you really don’t mind bringing me back out here.” She lowered her gaze to the car. “I’d love to ride in this thing.”

  Maddie took Syd’s other grocery bag and added it to the stash in the trunk. After snapping the lid shut, she walked to the passenger side door and grandly opened it for Syd. “Well then, Madame. If you would kindly sit down, we can get underway.”

  Syd climbed into the surprisingly roomy car and sighed as she sank into the soft, leather seat. Her gaze drifted up to Maddie, who was watching her with an amused expression. “Would it be possible to have my dinner served right here?”

  Maddie scrunched her brows. “You mean like Sonic Drive-In?” She fluttered the fingers of her left hand. “Little plastic animals on the cup rims . . . tater tots . . . the whole nine yards?”

  “Well, I could do without the tater tots, but the animals would be a welcome addition.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Maddie smiled as she shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

  Maddie sat down next to her, and Syd detected a faint trace of something sweet and slightly peppery. It was fleeting, but the light fragrance seemed to suit Maddie perfectly.

  Maddie started the car, and the dashboard was immediately illuminated with soft, blue light. The cabin filled with the deep and resonant strains of Mahler. It seemed to roll and swell out of every surface inside the car. She recognized the piece at once.

  “Das Lied von der Erde?” she asked.

  Maddie looked at her with happy surprise. “Yeah. Janet Baker. It’s one of my favorites.”

  Syd nodded. “I love it, too. This certainly is the definitive recording.”

  “You like Mahler?”

  “I’d call it more of a love-hate relationship. As a fan of classical music, I love it. As a musician, I hate it.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a bitch to play.”

  Maddie regarded her with interest. “You’re a musician? What instrument do you play?”

  “Violin.”

  Maddie looked at her oddly, then shook her head and eased the car into gear. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  THE DRIVE TO Maddie’s house took about ten minutes. They left the main road about three miles from the shopping center and turned onto a curvy, paved secondary road that wound its way through fenced pastures and rolling land dotted with barns and stands of pine trees.

  Maddie slowed as she approached the turn onto a private lane that was flanked by split-rail fencing. The weathered boards at the entrance were covered with vines of sweet autumn clematis. The gravel lane climbed up past pastures and alongside a creek that dipped and turned and switched back beneath the road before it emptied into a pond that stood at some distance from a large, white-framed farmhouse that overlooked it from a low rise. The house had a huge porch that wrapped around three sides. A large, yellow dog stood near the steps with his tail wagging, watching them approach. There were several outbuildings, and Maddie drove the Lexus into the one nearest the house and parked next to her Jeep.

  She unclipped her seatbelt and turned to Syd. “Home, sweet home. Let’s get inside and make something to eat. I’m beyond famished.”

  Smiling, Syd joined her at the back of the car, and they lifted out their bags. Maddie led them to the doorway past an impressive tool bench loaded with gizmos and shelves full of small appliances that appeared to be in various states of disre
pair.

  Outside, Maddie stopped to greet Pete, who danced around them as they approached the steps that led up to the wide porch. She set her bags down on a rustic pine table covered with potted plants and pulled open the screen to unlock the big oak door.

  Syd stood next to her on the porch, looking at the pond and the rolling land that spread out beyond it. The view took her breath away. She could hear the sonorous rush of water from the creek and, from somewhere near the house, the teakettle night song of a Carolina Wren. She was enchanted.

  “My god. This place is incredible.” Syd wanted nothing more than to sink down onto one of the painted Adirondack chairs on the porch and never get up.

  Maddie turned to her. “You like? This was the old Ward family farm. My parents bought it back in the seventies when they moved here—not long before I was born.” Her voice was quiet. “I spent the best ten years of my life here.”

  Syd turned her head to look at Maddie. “Well, hopefully you now have many more happy years ahead. It would be hard to imagine anything else in this setting.”

  Maddie smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” She touched her on the arm. “C’mon, let’s get inside. We can come back out here to eat if you’d like.”

  “Oh, god. Can we? I was just thinking seriously about claiming squatter’s rights on one of these chairs.”

  “Pick out one you like and call it yours. You’re welcome here any time.”

  Syd laughed as she turned to follow Maddie. “Oh, you say that now. Wait until you get tired of stumbling over me every time you leave your house.”

  Maddie gave her an amused look. “I think I’m equal to the challenge.” She held the door open for Syd and followed her inside with their bags. Pete jogged along beside them and quickly disappeared into the back of the house.

  If possible, the interior of the farmhouse was even more amazing than the landscape that surrounded it. Comfortable-looking double parlors with French doors flanked a large foyer filled with antiques. Maddie led Syd down a wide center hallway toward a spacious formal dining room. An open staircase ran along one wall, and a set of double doors led into a huge country kitchen. It seemed that every room of the house had direct access to the wraparound porch. Syd followed Maddie into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. The well-lighted space was dominated by a massive Wolf range with double ovens and a glass-doored Subzero refrigerator with a companion wine storage unit that had to hold at least a hundred bottles. She dropped down onto a stool that stood next to a granite-topped center island.

  “I’m not leaving. Ever.”

  Pete walked back into the room and sniffed at Syd’s feet. Then he flopped onto the floor beside her. He had the inevitable tennis ball in his mouth.

  Maddie smiled at her as she began removing food items from her bags. “I wish I could take credit for this, but my dad was the chef in the family. This was all his.” She walked to the Subzero and stashed Syd’s bag of dairy items on a lower shelf. “I can barely boil water.” She took off her suit jacket and tossed it over a chair. “How about something to drink while we fix our plates?”

  Syd nodded her assent. “I could use it.”

  Maddie went to the wine fridge and opened the door to the top compartment. “Like red?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Love it.”

  Maddie seemed to deliberate a moment, then pulled out a bottle and carried it to the center island. She handed Syd a corkscrew. “Would you do the honors? The glasses are in that cabinet behind you.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Syd stood up and removed two red wine glasses from a large pine sideboard. She returned to the center island and opened the bottle of Pinot Noir while Maddie got plates and utensils out.

  Syd looked around the room. It showcased all the charm of a rustic farm kitchen, but had a tasteful overlay of epicurean convenience. The cabinets looked original—tall doors with glass panels that reached the high ceiling. An old-looking, bib-front porcelain sink probably wasn’t old at all. A plank-topped table with mismatched wooden chairs stood in front of large, double windows that dominated the back wall. It was flanked by built-in shelves loaded with cookbooks and stacked pottery. The floor was covered with large Italian terra cotta tile. Several antique oak cabinets completed the furnishings in the room. What appeared to be a man’s denim jacket hung on a peg near the back door.

  An uneasy silence had settled over them once they entered the house, and Syd realized this was the first time they had really been alone in non-neutral territory. She was dimly aware that she had breached some kind of boundary by being here—and even though she had been invited, she guessed that Maddie probably didn’t do this kind of thing often. Her thoughts shifted back to their first conversation on the day Maddie changed her tire along the river road. She had hinted at the feelings of isolation and separateness that had characterized her return to live in the area. She hoped Maddie didn’t now regret her impulsive invitation.

  Maddie seemed aware of the awkwardness, too, as she quietly moved around the kitchen, opening containers and getting condiments out of the refrigerator. She walked back to the center island with a small baguette. She pulled a large bread knife out of its block on the countertop, placed the loaf on a cutting board, and sliced it.

  Syd poured two glasses of the wine and held one out to her hostess.

  “Thank you again for your hospitality.” She hesitated before continuing. “I probably should have had the grace to refuse.”

  Maddie gave her a perplexed look as she took the wine glass. “What do you mean?”

  Syd opted for honesty. “Now that I’m here, I confess to feeling a bit . . . intrusive. I suspect that you don’t normally invite total strangers out here to your . . .” She struggled to find the right words. “Sanctuary? Incredibly-tasteful-and-otherworldly retreat?” She smiled shyly. “Your home?”

  Maddie regarded her quietly for a moment. “Well, ‘normal’ is a fairly broad term. I don’t think I’ve been back in Jericho long enough to know yet what normal for me is going to look like.” She took a sip of her wine. “And I know it might seem odd, but I don’t really think of you as a stranger.” She paused and narrowed her eyes. “On the other hand, you aren’t brazenly concealing the fact that you’re a homicidal maniac or anything, are you? If so, I definitely need to rethink my choice of wine.”

  “Why?” Syd looked down into her glass. “What’s wrong with the wine?”

  “Nothing,” Maddie drawled. “That’s my point. I wouldn’t want to waste a bottle this good on a lunatic who’s only here to kill me.”

  Syd sighed. “So many victims, so little time.” She tasted the wine. “Mmmm. Too bad I left my slasher gear in my other suit.” Maddie snorted, and Syd looked up at her accusingly. “You really weren’t kidding when you told me that you were a snob, were you?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  Syd smiled. “Forgive my lapse into melodrama.”

  “No problem. C’mon. Let’s fix our plates and go sit on the porch.”

  THEY RELAXED IN wide-armed Adirondack chairs on the front porch. They had inhaled their plates of food and were unwinding with second glasses of wine. Syd kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on an ottoman. Pete was stretched out near her chair, snoring softly. His now empty food bowl rested behind him.

  Maddie had stopped to turn on the stereo before they ventured outside with their meals, and the muted sound of the Bach Suites for Unaccompanied Cello blended seamlessly with the ambient night noises that surrounded them.

  Syd rested her head against the back of her chair and expelled a deep breath. “You know, there isn’t much need for us to talk while this conversation is going on.”

  “What conversation?” Maddie looked at Syd. The semi-light from the house only dimly illuminated her profile as she sat staring out across the pond.

  “The one taking place between Bach and this landscape. It’s so perfect. I feel like I’m eavesdropping on something profound.” She turned to Maddie. “I can’t im
agine what it must be like to have this experience every night.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll think less of me if I tell you that I can’t imagine it, either.” Maddie shifted in her chair. “The truth is, I rarely make the time to do this. I’m normally home so late, I barely have time to eat before falling into bed.”

  “That’s just wrong on so many levels.”

  “I know it is.” Maddie sighed. “Truthfully, I think sometimes that I keep myself that busy so I won’t have to confront this.”

  “This?”

  Maddie waved her hand. “This—all that being back here implies.”

  Syd turned in her chair to face Maddie. “That was sure loaded. Are you regretting your decision to come back here?” She paused. “Forgive me if that’s too personal a question. I don’t want to pry.”

  Maddie shook her head. “Oh, no. You aren’t prying. I brought it up.” She took a healthy sip of her wine and set the glass back down on a low table next to her chair. “I really thought I left my demons behind when I packed up and moved away from Philadelphia. But presto. Somehow they all got boxed right up with the rest of my stuff.” She remained quiet for another moment. “Wherever you go, there you are.” She looked at Syd. “Who was it who said that?”

  Syd shook her head. “I don’t know, but it sounds like T.S. Eliot meets Gertrude Stein.”

  Maddie laughed. Syd’s green eyes weren’t visible in the dim light, but Maddie knew they were sparkling with humor and intelligence. She wished their chairs were closer together so she could see her better. She wished that time would slow down so they could continue to sit here and talk for hours. She wished the small librarian wasn’t so damn beautiful. She wished she could just go and submerge herself in the frigid water of her pond.

  “I love your sense of humor.”

  Syd smiled. “It’s an acquired taste. I have to keep it under pretty tight regulation up here.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Well, you aren’t alone in the wrestling-with-unwanted-demons category. I have my fair share, too.” Syd sighed deeply. “And I don’t know about yours, but mine is a six-foot-tall spoiled brat with a trust fund and a Durham zip code.”

 

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