Whispers of the Heart

by Stephanie Wilson

  “No, there is really nothing to discuss. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to tell you ...,” she quickly added, fearing sounding ungrateful for all Maime had done.

  “I understand,” Maime said gently patting her hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything you are not ready to. I won’t feel offended.”

  “Oh, I know that ... it’s just that I haven’t settled in all in my mind yet,” Erika answered wearily.

  And then they were interrupted by the shrill sound of Harry’s computerized telephone.

  “Oh, my heavens,” Maime admonished. “That there’s Harry’s telephone. It’s connected to that ol’ computer and he’s not here to answer the dumb thing. Excuse me while I see if there’s any way I can figure it out.”

  “No here,” Erika said. “I can do it,” she said gingerly removing the heavy quilts. “If I can get there in time before they hang up,” she said sheepishly, wondering after all if she could make the trek back to the Lake on the morrow.

  Erika was able to reach the computer and click the answer button just before the caller hung up.

  “Hello,” she said into the embedded microphone on the monitor.

  “Oh, sorry, guess I got the wrong number,” Papa yelled into the receiver.

  “Wait,” Erika boomed. “Papa, is that you,” she yelled above the static-filled telephone line.

  “Yea, its me. Who’s this?”

  “It’s ... It’s Marie.”

  “Wow! It’s great to hear your voice, gal. Golly, I never thought you’d be well enough to answer the phone. That’s the best news I’ve have all day!”

  “Thanks! I’m feeling so much better. It won’t be long before I can return your wife to you. She has made such a difference. Thank you for letting me have her,” she said sincerely.

  “Ah, shucks, Marie. I couldnt’ve stopped her if I tried. So glad you’re feelin’ better.”

  “Papa, have you heard any news about the weather?” Maime yelled over Erika’s shoulder. “We’ve been concerned about the snow!”

  “You don’t have to yell, Grandma. I can hears you jus’ fine!”

  Maime rolled her eyes to Erika’s amusement over the rebuke.

  “You still there?” Papa questioned.

  “Yea, we’re still here,” Maime answered.

  “They’re forecasting snow for North Idaho in the next few days. Now I was thinkin’ that if we could rig up a stretcher, we could carry Marie back to the main road and then down here to the Lake afore the snow sets in ... if you think she could make it, Grandma.”

  “Well,” Maime responded looking critically at Erika. “It seems a little soon ...”

  “Actually,” Erika said quickly taking charge of the conversation. “I’m feeling much better, Papa. I think I could walk at least most of the way. In fact, I was planning to broach the subject with Maime this morning. I would like very much to return tomorrow morning.”

  “Well, gal, I think tomorrow might be too late. They think the snow will hit by tonight. Think we’ll have to make it today. Can you do it?” he challenged.

  “Yes,” Erika said quickly. “It might take me a while, but I’m positive I can make it.”

  “That’s my girl,” Papa said, forever endearing himself to Erika’s heart.

  “Now, there’s jus’ one more thing. I don’t think it has anything to do with you, Marie, but thought I would check. Got a call this mornin’ from a travel agency in California. Said that an Erika Crawford was supposedly travelin’ to the Lake and stayin’ in our cottage here but that she hadn’t returned when expected and that a Lawrence Bancroft was mightily worried, getting search teams together and the like. Now I knows that no Erika stayed here but that Bancroft name was the same as yours. Got me thinkin’ I should try and contact you to see if you knew anything about it.”

  Erika sat stunned. “What day is it?” she whispered.

  “Hello,” Papa yelled through computer microphone. “You still there?”

  “Yes, we’re here,” Maime said quickly. “We’ll take care of it, Papa,” she said quickly glancing with concern at the top of Erika’s black tendrils. “When should we expect you?”

  “Me and the Marina boys are leaving in a half hour. We should be up at Harry’s place by noon or a little after. Gotta be ready to leave immediately if we’re to beat the weather.”

  “Okay, Papa. We’ll be ready. Bye honey,” Maime concluded while gently prodding Erika to click off the telephone.

  “What day is it?” Erika whispered again.

  “It’s Friday morning,” Maime responded.

  Erika searched her mind wondering if it was the Friday she had been scheduled to depart. She couldn’t remember. Lifting fear-filled eyes to Maime, she voiced her concern.

  “No, dear, it’s a week past that Friday.”

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “He must be worried sick. I must contact him.”

  “Yes. I think you should. I’ll stay right here by you,” Maime finished, wondering if the Bancroft man was her father.

  “Lawrence Bancroft’s office please,” Erika said to the switchboard operator.

  “I’m sorry that line is busy, would you like voice mail or the corporate receptionist?”

  “I’ll ... I’ll call back,” Erika said, not wanting to merely leave a message.

  After concluding the call, she turned slowly to face Maime. It must all seem so confusing to her. Her cheeks began to turn pink, as the flush moved from her slender neck to her widow’s peak hairline. Maime sat quietly, waiting.

  “I ... I suppose I need to explain ...”

  “Yes, you do. But before we get into that, I want you to go back to bed. You’re going to catch quite a chill with only Harry’s old T-shirt on. Thank heavens it was clean,” she said rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “No socks on your feet or anything,” she muttered, hurrying her patient into the next room.

  After settling Erika into the feather bed and layering quilts until Maime was satisfied with the warmth, she sat once again in the rocking chair. Quietly she rocked, looking at a point somewhere on the adjacent honey-colored wall ... thinking.

  Erika waited until Maime’s eyes found hers. She was embarrassed and ashamed that Maime would have discovered her secret in that manner. She had befriended her and put her life on hold to nurse her back to health. The repayment was lies and untruth.

  Noticing the hurt-filled eyes, Erika slowly dropped hers onto the old fraying quilts and woolen blankets.

  “I meant to tell you before this, Maime,” she whispered self-consciously picking at the fraying seam of the hand-made quilt.

  Again, silence.

  “My ... my name is not Marie Bancroft,” Erika said after clearing the lump in her throat.

  Silence.

  Erika uttered a sigh while she gently chewed on the corner of her lips as she contemplated her decision to remain anonymous. In hindsight, it seemed unnecessarily complicated and unfair to those whom she had grown close. Her Uncle Lawrence would be very disappointed in the choices she had made recently.

  “I guess I should start from the beginning,” Erika said settling back into her pillows while taking a large breath she hoped would give her the needed courage.

  Throughout the long and complicated story, Maime sat silently watching and listening. Unsure of what her reaction would be when it was all finished. Of course, a compelling compassion surfaced within her tender heart as the story tearfully unfolded. Knowing the Morgan family as she did, she understood Erika’s apparent need for anonymity. What still smarted was her apparent lack of trust.

  After several moments of silence, Maime finally asked the question that most plagued her.

  “Does Tim know?”

  Ashamed once again, Erika silently shook her head.

  Maime nodded, knowing full well that there was much Erika did not know about T.J. and his well-known family either. Still, she thought it odd that neither one was aware of their like backgrounds. She worried that the lies and deceit would
be too much for such a young and tender relationship.

  “Can ... can you ever forgive me?” Erika was asking.

  “Of course, sweetheart,” Maime breathed gently pushing back a wayward strand from Erika’s forehead. “You just rest now. You’re gonna need all the strength you can muster.”

  With the honest confession came the rushing waters of relief. Her soul felt tired beyond words, but cleansed of all impurity. At least, Maime would know the truth, she breathed. And ... most importantly ... she believes me. As sleep claimed her, Erika dreamed of ways she could also let her other friends know of her dishonesty and what measures of recompense could be taken.

  Maime busied herself with a final cleaning of Harry’s log cabin when the shrill ring of the computer telephone rang once again.

  “For lands’ sake,” cried Maime. “Will that thing ever quit!”

  Fortunately, Harry’s footsteps pounded loudly on the outside porch steps. At hearing the shrill ring, he bounded through the wooden cottage door slightly hanging off its hinge to catch the call before it was disconnected.

  “It’s for you,” he said somewhat surprised. “Just sit here and talk into this microphone,” Harry explained.

  “I know how to do it,” Maime responded, gently batting his hand away.

  “Hello,” she answered tentatively.

  “Is this Maime Doogin?” a loud voice boomed over the microphone.

  “Yes, it is,” she answered politely, wondering who could have reached her at Harry’s cabin. Assuming it was a guest trying to make reservations for the Morgan cottage, Maime began reciting the now ritual litany that the cottage was unavailable until the following March.

  “My name is Lawrence Bancroft,” the loud voice interrupted. “Our travel agent talked to, I assume, your husband a few hours ago. I have found out that my niece, Erika Crawford, has been occupying a lake cottage that is under your management?”

  “Yes, she has, Mr. Bancroft,” she responded relieved that Erika had confessed her real identity a short time before.

  “Well, that is an immense relief ... your husband,” he said derisively, “apparently had no knowledge of the fact. Several phone calls later, he finally agreed to give me this number. As you can understand, Mrs. Doogan, I am quite concerned for her safety and have been unable to reach her. Can you give me any helpful information?”

  “Mr. Bancroft, I’m sorry to be the one to tell ya, but Marie ... I mean, Erika … was involved in an accident ...”

  “For God’s sake, woman, out with it. Where is she? Is she injured?”

  “Now listen,” Maime commanded sharply, “you must listen to what I’m sayin’ before you leap off the bridge, Mr. Bancroft. Your niece is recovering nicely. In fact, we are even today beginning our journey back to the Lake.”

  “What do you mean, ‘back to the Lake?’”

  “Well, she had a ... a hiking accident. And don’t worry,” she yelled, interrupting his tirade, “nothings broken, there’s no injuries that have not already healed. She’ll be jus’ fine in a few days yet.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this. I’m warning you, Mrs. Doogan, if even one hair on her head has been hurt, I will sue whoever is responsible for this ... accident. Now, where are you ... I’m catching the next plane,” Lawrence boomed.

  “Well, Mr. Bancroft,” she said calmly, “Erika and I are several hours Northeast of the Lake in the Selkirk Mountain range. Now listen to me,” she admonished, “we’ll be back at Priest this evening. I suggest you contact Erika first thing in the morning and get the entire story before you take the next plane north.”

  “How come she hasn’t called me, Mrs. Doogan,” he said suspiciously. “She knew I was expecting her last Friday. That’s a week, Mrs. Doogan! Can you even contemplate how worried I’ve been?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bancroft, I can. But in her defense, she didn’t even know until today that a week had passed. She has been very ill. It has only been in the last few days that she has been conscious and alert. Now, sir,” she said in the voice she always used to calm the Morgan children, “I have got to go. Our men will be up here in just a few short hours to retrieve us and I’ve got lots of work ahead of me. The snow is comin’ in tonight and we simply must reach the Lake before it does. Call tomorrow, Mr. Bancroft, Erika can answer all your questions then. But ... be easy on her,” she gently added. “Erika has become very dear to me.”

  Before Lawrence could ask any more questions Maime could not, in good conscience, answer, she had Harry click off the telephone. Maime sat facing the computer for several moments before Harry claimed her attention by swinging the swivel chair toward the round oak table where he sat waiting.

  “What’s going on, Maime. And who is ... this Erika?”

  Taking a deep breath, Maime looked at Harry’s weak and tired eyes. “It’s a long story, Harry. It’s very complicated ... in fact, I still haven’t put all the pieces together. Anyways,” she said looking directly into his gray eyes, “I want Erika ... Marie, to be the one to tell you.”

  Maime busied herself for the next three hours, packing their supplies and equipment. With Harry’s help, everything was restored to its original cozy if not cluttered condition. He had informed her that he would be traveling back to the Lake with Papa and the boys. Maime knew the time approached where she would need to say the dreaded ‘Good-bye’ to her old friend. Harry would be traveling back to the East Coast, hopefully to receive needed medical attention as well as repair the rift between his family that years and distance had created. Secretly she wondered if they would even see him again.

  By the time Papa arrived shortly past noon, Erika was ready, dressed again in her now blackened white shorts and torn sweatshirt. She wore a pair of Harry’s old socks under the ripped sandals. But Papa thought her a beautiful apparition standing on the porch in weakened, but near perfect health. He just wished T.J. had been there to see it for himself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hours later, the old white truck that had become so familiar, rolled down the gravel road that led to the cozy cottage by the Lake. Erika’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she peered through the darkness to the place she now felt was home. A vision of her first glimpse of that cottage momentarily surfaced. That overwhelming and all-consuming fear experienced that first midnight now seemed so distant.

  A soft smile emerged on her pale lips as she also remembered meeting ‘Moose’, T.J.’s pet bear. And, of course, she would never forget the intense emotions that swirled around on that porch step. T.J.’s stark blue eyes had been cloudy, like the mist that rolled in off the Lake each autumn morning. She would never forget those eyes, she thought.

  Seconds later, Erika’s mind cleared as she noticed the starched plaid ruffled curtains gleaming in the porch light. A feeling of wholeness settled in her heart as she gazed at the home she had come to love. It was as if the cottage was alive, actually welcoming her to its hearth.

  Maime had kissed Papa and told him that she felt she should stay with Erika until she was certain a complete recovery had been made. Papa had agreed saying that he would stay with them, to protect them, of course. Maime had given Erika a knowing wink as each realized his true motivation.

  Harry laughed when he too became privy to that look. He assured Papa and Maime that he would stay in their cottage at the Marina. But, he had reminded with a parting comment that he would return to Erika’s cottage bright and early for breakfast. He, in fact, told Maime he was already tasting her fine Huckleberry pancakes.

  A deep weariness began to claim Erika as she sat propped up by the now roaring fire in the familiar stone fireplace. In just minutes, the deep chill that had settled into the cottage began to dissipate. With every crackle from the cedar kindling, new life began to pour into her tired spirit. The heat warmed her to the bones, almost restoring her previous health and vitality. She was weak from the trek down the mountain, but deep inside Erika knew that by tomorrow, the needed arrangements for her trip to Los Angeles must be made
and though exhausted, she was mending.

  Erika stared into the amber and red flames wondering at her cowardice. It was unnerving how easily it claimed her. She had always prided herself in strength of courage. But tonight, as the flames of the fire licked the logs stacked high in the hearth, she felt an all-consuming weakness. Though it hadn’t been easy to tell Maime her secrets, and it wouldn’t be any easier to tell Harry, she had decided not to tell Tim in person. She would leave a note … or something. She couldn’t face him. Didn’t want to face him. Not after their argument. In fact, at this moment, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to tell him at all.

  Maime came bustling into the living area announcing that it was time for Erika to take a warm bath and then retire to her room. Informing her all the while that she had drawn the bath water and changed her bed linens.

  “Oh, Maime,” Erika said surprised. “You didn’t have to do that ...”

  “Yes, I did,” came the confident, no-nonsense reply.

  Erika smiled tenderly at Maime once they had reached the bathroom door. Impulsively Erika turned and fell into Maime’s arms. Tears glistened in her eyes as she once again thanked her for the life-saving efforts and forgiveness. Maime’s eyes mirrored Erika’s as she gently kissed her on the cheek. The moment quickly passed, however, and Maime roughly admonished Erika not to linger too long in the bath as a chill might set in and that she would come and check on her in a few minutes.

  Erika found herself humming as the warm water caressed every corner of her tired body. Her twisted and cramped muscles began to loosen as she stretched first one leg and then the other. Gingerly rotating her ankle in the sudsy water, Erika was delighted that the soreness was all but gone. Only a slight stiffness remained. Breathing deeply of the lavender-scented steam that filled the tiny bathroom, Erika knew an inner peace.

  “Thank you, God,” she breathed, “for rescuing me from the wilderness. I was so frightened, but I know you were watching over me. Of all your creatures, I would probably be the least likely candidate for your protection. But, thank you that you love even the least of us. Thank you also for Maime’s kind understanding. Amen.”