The Foster Girls

by Lin Stepp

  Scott stood waiting, dripping on the kitchen floor, until he heard Hershel’s car starting to come up the drive, then he turned and started up the hallway of the farmhouse. A girl who had been coming down the hall stopped suddenly, startled at his presence in the house, her eyes growing huge as she caught sight of his rifle. Her hands flew automatically to cover her heart.

  Scott raised his rifle and gave her a cold stare. “Party’s over. Sheriff’s on the way. Better tell your friends to get on in here, too, before the Sheriff comes. He’ll want to talk to all of you about breaking and entering. This is private property, you know, not a place where you can hang out and smoke dope or get drunk. I want you to get the word out that this house isn’t available for kids to party in.”

  The girl stood speechless for a few minutes, her breath heaving in and out in short gasps. She was obviously scared to death. Good, Scott thought. She had a right to be. The old farmhouse was still filled with all his gramma’s old furniture and possessions. The last time a group partied here, they’d left a nasty mess Scott had spent a half-day cleaning up. Nothing had been stolen, but Scott figured his luck was about to run out on that option if the place stayed empty.

  “Where are your friends?” he asked her curtly. “No one’s going to get hurt here, girl. But none of you are going to be partying here tonight, and that’s a fact.”

  “Who are you?” the girl finally rasped out.

  “I’m Scott Jamison. I own Buckeye Knob Camp and the property next door. This was my Gramma Jamison’s place, and this is Jamison land you are on.”

  The girl straightened up then, beginning to catch her breath. Then something in her expression changed gradually from fear to challenge.

  She flashed him a defiant look. “I’m not a teenager here to have a party hour, Mr. Jamison. I have a legal right to be here, and I do not appreciate being nearly frightened out of my mind by you waving a gun around in here and threatening me.”

  Hershel came stomping into the house about that time. Seeing Scott with his rifle raised, he looked off down the hallways and into the parlor and the front bedroom, before joining Scott and the girl in the hall.

  He took off his hat to shake out some of the water. “I don’t see any more kids in here. Maybe they all took off when they heard me drive up.”

  “There weren’t any more kids,” Vivian announced primly. “And do you think you could ask your cowboy friend here to put his gun down now?”

  Hershel gave Scott a look, and Scott lowered his rifle.

  “Look here, girl,” Hershel began. “This here’s private property and ….”

  “I assume you’re the sheriff.” Vivian interrupted before he could finish.

  “Sheriff Hershel Fields.” He studied Vivian more closely now. “You’re a little old for this vagrancy stuff, aren’t you, girl? Usually it’s teenagers that do this kind of thing.”

  “Thank you for noticing that, at least,” Vivian snapped back. “And since you didn’t ask my name, let me provide it. I’m Dr. Vivian Delaney and I’m the new renter for this house. I know I’ve arrived a little earlier than I’d been scheduled to, but I certainly didn’t expect to be met with a gun and a threat. I paid March’s rent in advance before I came, and legally I have every right to be in this house.”

  Hershel raised an eyebrow at Scott. “Is this your new renter?”

  “I’m not sure.” Scott studied the girl more intently, beginning to get an odd feeling about this whole situation now.

  “I have identification in my purse on the entry table in the hallway.” She pointed behind her toward the door. “You can check it out if you like.”

  She smiled at them sweetly then, beginning to realize she had the upper hand.

  Hershel grinned sheepishly back.

  “There’s California plates on her Blazer, Scott. Where did you say this professor renter of yours was coming from?”

  “I didn’t say.” Scott frowned. “All I knew was that she was from out west.”

  “Well, California’s out west sure enough. And I didn’t see no sign that anybody broke in, so I’d say it’s safe to say that this here is your new renter, Scott.” He chuckled a little, seeming to enjoy the joke.

  The sheriff turned to Vivian and held out his hand. “Welcome to the valley, Dr. Delaney. Sorry we got you confused and caused you a little undue stress tonight.”

  Vivian put her hand in his tentatively and then quickly withdrew it, not overly eager to be cordial yet.

  “Some teenagers have been coming over here and causing trouble on the weekends,” he explained. “And so, naturally, when we saw the lights we thought some kids had come over and broken in again. We was hoping to catch them.”

  Hershel tried another smile her way. “I hope you’ll understand that it was an honest mistake we made catching you instead. I’d say the fault is a little yours as well, ma’am. You’re early to arrive and you didn’t call your realtor to tell her you were here. That realtor is Scott’s mother. If you’d contacted her, she’d have called Scott, and Scott would have known that the lights in this house were legit. Might have saved us all getting out in the wet tonight.”

  “You have some very good points there, Sheriff Fields,” Vivian conceded. “But, of course, Mr. Jamison could have simply asked me who I was before he pulled a gun on me, too.”

  Scott scowled in irritation. “Now, listen here. The last time a bunch of kids broke in the house, some of them were doing drugs and alcohol. Kids like that are dangerous to themselves and to others. I didn’t want any trouble tonight.”

  “Well, it looks like you got some, anyway,” she replied tartly.

  The sheriff hid another smile with his hand and put his rain-drenched hat back on. “Well, I’ll be off now. Scott, why don’t you walk me out to the car? I’ll need you to sign a report about my visit.”

  Scott trailed out behind Hershel and back into the rain again. The earlier torrent had now diminished to a slow drizzle.

  “What report?” he demanded, as soon as they got out of earshot of the house. “I’ve never needed to sign a report about this before, Hershel.”

  “I was just needing an excuse to get on out of that house.” Hershel laughed. “And I figured I might get you out of there, too, before she decided to scratch your eyes out. Whooee! That girl was mad! She was containing it real professional like, but she was mad as a wet hen. Too bad things are starting out so frosty between you and your new renter, Scott.”

  “Why’s that, Hershel? She’s just renting the house.”

  “Boy, you must be blind as well as stupid.” He grinned. “That’s one fine, gorgeous young woman you’ve got moving into your Gramma’s place, not some old lady academic like you told me was moving in. I mean, I may be a married man, but I got eyes. And with that soaked down t-shirt and jeans, it was hard not to look. I didn’t see no ring on her finger, neither.” He laughed again and punched at Scott. “You sure were wrong about this renter being safe and quiet. I’ll bet you the young men will be lining up out here to see her if her educational credentials don’t scare them all off.” He smirked again.

  Scott pulled the hood of his slicker over his head with a jerk of annoyance. “I’m glad you’re seeing this all as so funny.”

  “Aw, your pride’s just wrinkled from being made a fool of.” Hershel cuffed Scott on the arm with affection. “Happens to me all the time. It’ll pass off, boy. Get on in out of the rain now, and try to make nice with your new tenant and make things up.”

  Hershel climbed into his car and gave Scott another wave goodbye before he closed the door and started up the motor. Scott watched him pull away before he slogged back up on the farmhouse porch. He reached for the door, and found it locked tight. His gun was now propped outside the door.

  He sighed. It just wasn’t worth the effort to push for more tonight. It was getting late, he was soaking wet, and he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. It could wait until tomorrow. He picked up his rifle, headed back down off the porch, and starte
d for home.

  Chapter 3

  Vivian watched Scott Jamison leave from her position just inside the door. In one sense, she was relieved that he hadn’t pushed his privilege and knocked to come back in again. But in another, she was disappointed. She’d have liked to give him another piece of her mind. The very idea of him coming over here and scaring the life out of her with a gun like that! Who did he think he was, anyway?

  She leaned back against the hallway wall and gave a big sigh. God, she’d been scared. The sheriff was right - she should have called her realtor first. The man could have actually shot her, for heaven’s sake. Or she might have stumbled upon some of those kids partying and found herself in an even worse kind of mess.

  “Lord, when will I learn not to be so impulsive?” She rolled her eyes toward the heavens.

  Another crash of thunder came, as if in answer, and the sky opened up even more with a sweeping new deluge of rain. Vivian sighed and went to check the lock on the front door one more time. As she did, she heard a scratching outside the door that made the hairs on her arms prickle up. She knew black bears lived in these mountains.

  A sliver of fear crept up Vivian’s neck as the scratching continued, and she found herself almost wishing she hadn’t locked the door on Scott Jamison. She heard a high whine and a short bark then and found herself sighing in relief. It was a dog outside! She went over to the door and looked out the window beside it. A small, wet, tri-colored collie looked up at her with canine eagerness, lifting its ears in cute appeal and wagging its tail. The little dog scratched on the door and barked again.

  Vivian cracked the door. “Oh, why not? How much more trouble can I have tonight?”

  The collie raced in without hesitation, shook itself off, and then headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. Before Vivian could close the front door, a damp-furred cat streaked in right behind the dog. The calico shook itself as well, and after a plaintive meow of complaint, followed the dog down the hallway. Both animals seemed entirely too familiar with the house to Vivian’s way of thinking.

  Vivian shook her head and followed them down the hallway. “Well, great,” she muttered. “Let’s add one more unexpected complication to this night, a house that comes complete with resident pets.”

  The animals led Vivian straight into a large pantry and utility room off the kitchen. The cat jumped up on the washing machine to meow at an empty dish, while the collie pushed around a larger dish on the floor. Labels on the dishes let Vivian know the dog’s name was Fritzi and the cat’s Dearie.

  While Vivian tried to decide what to do about the animals, the collie pawed at the pantry closet door impatiently. Opening the door, Vivian found bags of dry food for both the pets on the shelf.

  “Well, I guess you’re both staying for dinner.” She laughed and poured out food for both. Having the animals there comforted her somehow.

  She filled their water dishes, too, and, after finding some soup and crackers on the pantry shelves, decided to fix herself some dinner. She explored the kitchen to find a pan to heat the soup in, and when it was ready later, took her dinner into the adjoining country dining room to eat. The animals soon followed her and curled up around her feet for a nap.

  While she ate, Vivian made calls to let everyone know she had arrived safely. She called her parents. She called Betsy’s office line and left her a message. She called Roz at her office to do the same and to let Roz know her fax would be hooked up by morning for any communications she needed to receive. Then she called Tad at home, who, of course, claimed he was sitting by the phone waiting to hear from her.

  “I’m here safe and well, Tad,” she assured him, smiling in spite of herself.

  Tad launched immediately into a tirade of worrying and fussing. After she assured him again that everything was fine, he moved on to update her on assorted news and office gossip. Vivian finished her soup while she listened.

  Actually, she owed Tad a great deal for all the time he’d spent helping her through her recent spate of problems and making her arrangements to come to Tennessee. He’d located her new red Explorer, a better car for traveling than her old Honda. He’d mapped her trip out and arranged her stopovers. He’d helped her pack and had her California furniture put in storage. Also, Vivian had stayed over with Tad and his partner Boone for several weeks before she’d started her trip out to California. They had both been a terrific support to her through everything that had happened since this winter.

  Now, in true Tad style, Vivian listened to him bombarding her with another sweep of maternal worries. She smiled with fondness at his genuine concern for her.

  “Everything is fine, Tad,” she assured him again, never considering for a minute telling him about her encounter with the local sheriff and her neighbor with the gun!

  “I followed the map easily with no problem, and the farmhouse is simply charming,” she told him.

  Tad replied, “Honey, Boone and I just want to know that you have everything you need out there. You go walk through the house right now before we hang up, so if there is anything you don’t have, we can get it right out to you. You know, Boone and I will both sleep better knowing that everything is alright there.”

  “Okay, okay,” she conceded. “I’ll go walk through the house right now and tell you all about it. And you can tell Boone. If you want, you both can fly over here and see it for yourself. Honestly, Tad, I’m sure this farmhouse is going to be a great place for me to work.”

  Tad interjected a comment then about an upcoming deadline. “You know I hate to mention it right now, Vivian, but I do need those edits by the tenth.”

  Vivian sighed. “Tad, I know I need to get some work out to you by the end of this week. And I will. Stop worrying. It’s marvelously peaceful here. If I could get work to you while teaching full-time, I’ll keep getting work to you now that I’m not teaching at all. I wish you’d just relax. This change is going to be a good thing for me. We agreed about that.”

  Vivian washed up her dinner dishes while Tad reviewed several other assignment deadlines that she’d already heard twice before, at the very least.

  “Let’s do this walk through, Tad,” she insisted at last, when she could finally get a word in edgewise. “I’m tired, and I haven’t even unpacked yet.”

  He apologized, repeating that he just wanted to know that everything was safe and acceptable before he hung up.

  Vivian sighed. “Okay, Tad. You’ve already seen the outside of the house in pictures, and you know it’s a rambling old two-story farmhouse. The property is truly beautiful – flowers and big shade trees everywhere, a bubbling creek nearby, the mountains close enough to taste in the background. I can’t wait to explore outside tomorrow.”

  “You’d better watch out for snakes and bears and stuff,” he put in.

  Vivian laughed. “I know there are bears and snakes and spiders in the country, Tad. I grew up in rural California, remember? Stop worrying. You’re the city boy. I grew up in little country towns. I know how to be careful.”

  Vivian got up and started to look around. “The downstairs of the farmhouse has three main rooms, a front parlor, a downstairs bedroom, and a big kitchen and dining room combination. The kitchen dining area is a lovely open set of rooms, full of light with big windows looking out into the backyard to a nice woods and a creek.

  “It’s very cheerful.” She walked around to peer into china cabinets and corner shelves. “There’s a wonderful collection of blue delftware here – indigo Spode and Blue Willow. I hadn’t noticed that before. The owner must have been a long time collector.”

  Vivian walked up the hallway, looking around. “A big open hallway stretches from the front entry all the way back to the kitchen and dining area. There are paintings along the hall, a little half bath, closets, and a broad staircase climbing to the upstairs.”

  She peeked into the big living room at the front of the house. “The front parlor has an old Victorian look with a deep bay window across the front. The colo
r scheme is in rich, sunny yellows and deep blues. It’s filled with antique cherry furniture, stern family portraits, needlepoint pillows, and hand-worked samplers. Somebody was really good with a needle here.”

  The bay window drew her attention, and Vivian walked into the room to look out over the front yard. “There are rockers and old wicker pieces with faded cushions on the front porch.” She smiled. “I’m going to love it out here this spring and summer. It’s so nice and homey.”

  Vivian listened to Tad’s comments while she walked back down the main hallway and into a side hall leading to the downstairs bedroom.

  She opened the door and peeked in. “Oh, how lovely. The downstairs bedroom is blue and white with soft striped wallpaper and a marvelous old white bedspread with a handmade flower-garden quilt at the foot of the bed. I can see a bathroom and a big closet off to one side. I think I’ll stay in this bedroom while I’m here. It brings back memories of the room I had when I was a little girl before my mother died.”

  Fritzi bounded into the room, barking a greeting. Vivian had to stop and tell Tad about the resident pets while she walked upstairs.

  Not interested in pet stories, Tad prompted her to get back to telling him about the house. “What’s upstairs, Vivian?”

  “Well, like a lot of old farmhouses, this one has three huge rooms upstairs off a broad hallway that looks down the stairwell. Probably these were once all bedrooms. People used to have big families when this old house was built.”