Wishmakers

by Dorothy Garlock

  Your brother,

  Harold

  Now he's my brother. Other times he's called himself our half-brother.

  Nona's curiosity tempted her to open the package, but she resisted and buried it deep in the bottom of the suitcase she planned to take with her to Tall Pine Camp.

  Mabel came into the apartment and shut the door behind her. “I've got a few things for us to take on the trip and to eat on the way.”

  “Are you ready to go?” Nona closed and locked her suitcase.

  “Yes, the janitor helped me carry the things we're leaving behind in the storage shed. He said the owner told him to assure us they would be here when we wanted them.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “Are we leaving tonight or waiting until morning?”

  “We're leaving as soon as Maggie gets back.”

  The next afternoon, Mr. Dryden opened the door to two well-dressed men. The bald one did all the talking.

  “Good afternoon, sir. We're from the U.S. Postal Department and are checking on a package that was delivered to this address, but we lack confirmation. You know how strict the government is about little things.” He laughed. “Do you know who the package was delivered to?”

  “A package came yesterday for Miss Conrad. She wasn't at home. The postman left it with me. He didn't ask me to sign for it. I gave it to Miss Conrad as soon as she got home.”

  “Thank you. I guess that takes care of it.”

  “It's a good thing it came yesterday because she has left for Tall Pine Lake. She accepted a job managing a camp there.”

  “You don't say? I've never heard of Tall Pine Lake.”

  “It's a beautiful place up in the Ozarks. You should visit sometime. There's fishing and hunting.”

  “How far is it from here?”

  “I don't rightly know.”

  “Thank you, sir. You've been a big help. The United States government appreciates it.”

  As soon as the two men got into their car, the baldheaded man slapped the steering wheel with his palm. “What do you think? Pretty slick, huh? I told you that blood was thicker than water and that she would be the one he would confide in.”

  “Yeah, it worked out better than I thought it would. All we've got to do now is find a map and locate Tall Pine Lake and then the camp where she is working.”

  chapter one

  Home, Arkansas, 1980

  EXCUSE ME.” Nona had come out of the small grocery store carrying two heavy sacks of groceries. She ran head-on into a man coming into the business. She hadn't hit him hard, but she felt the red sting of embarrassment just the same. Glancing up quickly, she saw that he was definitely a city man. He didn't look like a person who belonged in Home, Arkansas.

  His clothes were expensive, certainly too new to have been worn long, unlike most of the men in town who wore faded work clothes that had seen many washings. His head was bald, but the black mustache on his upper lip was thick. Nona wondered why bald men were compelled to have hair on their faces. It was hard to tell if he was young or old. The coldness of his dark eyes surprised her. Her mind absorbed these impressions in a few seconds. She hadn't realized that she'd been staring until he reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Apology accepted,” he mumbled through uneven teeth. Even from those two words, Nona could hear an accent but one that she couldn't place. With an expanding smile, the man added, “You're Mrs. Conrad, aren't you?”

  “No,” she answered, “I'm Miss Conrad.” “I was told you managed the camp at Tall Pine Lake. My friend and I are looking for a place to fish. Do you have a vacancy?”

  “Not for a couple of weeks.” The words came out of Nona's mouth before she'd given them any thought. Even though most of the cabins were currently empty, something about the man prompted her to lie.

  “That's too bad,” he said. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I'm sure!” she snapped. “It might be worth waiting for.” His eyes began to roam across her body before settling on her breasts. The thumb on the hand that held her arm began to move across her skin in a caressing motion. Suddenly angry, Nona tried to jerk her arm away, but his grip tightened.

  “Let go.” Her voice was loud and strong. She felt a quiver of fear and looked around to see if anyone was near. Her hopes leapt as she saw a deliveryman carrying a large box toward the store.

  But before she could say anything, the man abruptly released her arm, stepped back, and opened the door for the deliveryman, who quickly disappeared inside the store. Nona feared that the stranger would grab her again, but instead he said gruffly, “I'll be seeing you, Miss Conrad.” With that, he turned and walked away.

  For a moment, she stood frozen in front of the store. He knew my name!

  Shaking the thought loose, Nona hurried to her car. Ripe sunlight bathed the small town and the first hint of June's heat was in the air. The leaves of the maple and oak trees fluttered in the light breeze.

  As she moved down the boardwalk, Nona caught sight of her reflection in the large window of the hardware store. Mr. Finnegan's window was full of saws, hammers, nails, and even an antique cast-iron stove, looking out of season in the warm weather. Amid the clutter, there was still enough space for her to clearly see a slim woman with a mop of curly, fiery red hair. It floated around her face like a halo. It was what drew people's eyes to her. She wore slacks and a tucked-in shirt. Nona thought she was only passably pretty. Although a small woman, she appeared taller because she carried herself proudly. She considered her large sky-blue eyes her best feature. They sparkled when she was angry or when she was extremely happy. She had a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose. When she was younger, she had hated her red hair, but now, she must accept it or dye it and she didn't want the bother of that. Although she preferred to be referred to by her name, she had grown used to being called “that red-haired girl.”

  Finally, she reached her car, a ten-year-old Ford, dustcovered from its travels down the dirt roads. When Nona moved to open the driver's door, she was startled to find another hand there before hers. In that split second, her heart sank at the thought that the strange man had followed her. But when she looked up, she found the bright eyes of a tall cowboy in a battered Stetson and a faded plaid shirt.

  “Ma'am.” A smile split the man's handsome, sun-browned face. “A pretty woman shouldn't be carrying such a load.”

  “My husband will be here shortly,” Nona said defensively.

  “He's a lucky man.” The friendly cowboy opened the car door. “But until he gets here, let me help.” Nona placed her bags on the seat and pushed them across to the other side. After she got into the car and slid under the wheel, the man shut the door behind her and stood at the open window.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “My pleasure. Good day, ma'am.” He smiled warmly as he put his fingers to his hat brim. “Till we meet again.” His grin was contagious; Nona couldn't help but return the smile.

  She started the car, put it in reverse, and began to back out. The loud blast of a horn caused her to slam her foot down on the brakes. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, Nona saw the deliveryman frown at her before driving his truck past her and down the street. Damn that baldheaded man! He's got me rattled. When the road was clear behind her, she eased out and drove out of town.

  Home, Arkansas, was a small town at the foot of the Ozark Mountains in the southwestern part of the state. It was the main supply hub for a twenty-square-mile area. Home got its unlikely name more than a hundred years ago when a travel-weary family from Ohio paused to spend the night along a clear stream. The man looked around, liked what he saw, and declared, “We're home.”

  The town was little more than two rows of business buildings that lined the main street. The businesses that remained in the Ozark Mountain town were the grocery store, hardware store, barbershop, pool hall, gun shop, and two cafes, Alice's Diner and the Grizzly Tavern, where a man could get nearly anything that he wanted to drink. Mo
st evenings, the tavern was crowded to overflowing. Nona had learned all of this when she and Maggie came to town to attend the Baptist church, a small clapboard building that sat on the edge of town. Church was the ideal place to catch up on the local gossip.

  The Ozark Mountains loomed over a wild and unsettled terrain. The merchants in Home depended on hunters, fishermen, and campers for their livelihoods and the region drew them in droves. This was not only a haven for hunters, but also hippies for the last ten years. The town was usually peaceful until sunset, when the roughnecks came to town. Nona was becoming fond of the rough little town and its wooded surroundings.

  She drove east along a road that snaked through a heavily wooded area. The sound of the car's tires crunching over loose stone echoed off of the looming pines that lined both sides of her route. She had traveled this road at least once a week since she and Maggie, her sister, had come to manage the camp and had never been nervous about traveling it, but now for some reason she was uneasy as she drove away from town. Was it that the bald-headed man had held onto her arm so tightly? The encounter bothered her more than she was willing to admit.

  After a couple of miles, Nona became aware of a black car coming up behind her. Furtively, she glanced in her rearview mirror. In the mirror, she could see a truck behind the car. It was probably old Mr. Wilson who lived on the other side of the lake. He was almost eighty years old. Fearfully, Nona gripped the wheel. There was nothing along this lonely stretch of road until she came to the camp. She kept her eyes on the road and waited.

  She would feel more comfortable when she made it to the turnoff to the camp! A little afraid but determined, Nona concentrated on her driving.

  Glancing in the mirror, she was stunned to see the car pull out to pass her! Tapping on the brakes lightly to keep from spinning out of control, Nona saw that the driver was the bald-headed man who had grabbed her arm at the store. The black car passed her, and barreled on down the road. The man in the passenger seat didn't even glance at her. The car rounded a bend and was soon out of sight. For the next several miles, Nona kept expecting to see the car blocking the road, the man out, a gun in his hand.

  Nona rounded an easy curve in the road and came within sight of Tall Pine Camp. She could not remember it looking so inviting. The manager's house itself wasn't much; it was the largest of the buildings but was otherwise identical to the seven other cabins set back from Tall Pine Lake. All of the cabins were roomy and painted a crisp shade of green. As she turned onto the lane leading to the cabins, Nona was proud of what she saw. With her sister Maggie's help she had cleaned the grounds around the cabins.

  As she approached the three-room house she shared with her sister and Mabel Rogers, a longtime friend, her eyes roamed the campgrounds. A battered old house trailer sat near the lake. Russell Story, the old man who lived in the trailer, took care of the boats and the bait for the camp. He also cleaned, filleted, and packed the fish in ice for the camp guests. Aunt Mabel had won him over with her apple pie and in return he kept them well supplied with fresh fish.

  “Oh, for crying out loud!”

  Nona spat the words out as she came up the dirt road and turned her Ford into the drive in front of her cabin. For the second time in the last three days, the man who was staying in cabin number two had parked his pickup in her drive and she couldn't squeeze past it.

  “Some people have a lot of nerve,” she muttered angrily. She pressed her hand down on the horn and held it there. The horn's blaring bounced off the buildings and over the lake. Nona hoped it sounded as belligerent as she felt.

  “Nona! Chill out!” Maggie shouted as she came down the steps of their cabin and knocked on the window of the passenger's side.

  Nona let up on the horn, leaned over the seat, and rolled down the window.

  “He isn't here,” Maggie yelled over the knocks and ticks of the idling engine. “He took his dog and went off into the woods.”

  “Not here?” Stress lines formed between Nona's eyes and the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. “I'll just park behind him and see how he likes it.”

  Maggie stood by the car with her hands on her bony hips. At fourteen, she was a pencil-straight girl with light brown hair who had just begun to emerge from her childish awkwardness. While she and her sister were both slim, Maggie was already taller than Nona, who was twelve years her senior. Maggie's legs seemed endless and her blue eyes looked too large for her perky, freckled face. She wore blue jeans and a faded T-shirt. Not at all shy, she had an openness that was a large part of her charm. She made a frown of her own as she watched her sister park directly behind the truck, then get out of the Ford with a mischievous grin on her face.

  “Take a chill pill, Nona. Why are you so mad? You'd think this is the only parking place in the whole world.”

  “I'm not mad…just exasperated.” She was still shaken from her encounter with the man at the store and on the road. “Our cabin is number one,” she explained impatiently. “This is our drive. He has his own drive. It's simple. Why does he insist on parking on this side of his cabin in our drive?”

  “Seems like you're making a mountain out of a molehill to me,” Maggie retorted with a shrug. She gathered up one of the bags of groceries and leapt up the steps like a young colt.

  Nona edged through the front door that Maggie held open, dumped her large sack on the table, and sighed. A thin woman in slacks and a sleeveless shirt stood in front of the sink peeling potatoes. She turned and smiled at the two girls, her high cheekbones rosy with rouge and a cigarette hanging from her bright red lips.

  “Hi, Mabel,” Nona said.

  “Is something wrong, dear?” Mabel asked with concern. “Why were you honking the horn?”

  “She's having a cow, Aunt Mabel.”

  When Nona and Maggie moved into an apartment after the death of their parents, Mabel Rogers, a widow, had been their neighbor. A woman who had no family of her own, she had taken the two girls to her heart. Mabel had volunteered to care for Maggie while Nona was at work, a blessing to both of the sisters. They loved her dearly. She had been “Aunt Mabel” to Maggie since she was four years old. When Nona had taken the job of managing the camp, it seemed only natural that Mabel would come with them.

  “A what?” Mabel asked, wrinkling her brow.

  “You know. Losing her cool.”

  “I am not!” Nona caught herself before she said anything about what had happened in town and on the road to the camp. She didn't see the need to worry them unnecessarily. “There's the whole out-of-doors for him to park in, yet he insists on putting that pickup in our drive!”

  “He's really very nice,” Mabel said. “Handsome, too,” she added with a wink at Maggie. Pushing a strand of henna-colored hair behind her ears, she began unloading the sacks of groceries.

  “This sack is Mrs. Leasure's. I'll have Maggie take it down to her.”

  Once everything had been placed on the table, Maggie wailed, “Nona! You didn't get my Seventeen magazine!”

  “I had to choose between a magazine and Raisin Bran. The bran won. Our grocery dollars will only stretch so far, you know. When I think of how fast our money is going, I get panicky.”

  “Did you call Little Rock, again?” Mabel asked.

  Nona was reluctant to place a long distance call on the camp telephone. “I tried to call while I was in town, but they said he was out to lunch.”

  “That's a heck of a note,” Mabel mused as she carefully folded the empty sacks.

  “I think it was a lie. He just didn't want to talk to me.”

  “Did you try to call the man who hired you?”

  “No.”

  “We've been here for four weeks and haven't heard a word from the owner of the camp.”

  “I send everything we take in, plus the bills, to the accountant. Unless we get more bookings in a hurry, there'll be only the bills to send. To make matters worse, the pump on the well is acting up again. It'll cost a mint to have someone out here to fix it.�
�

  As she took a load of groceries over to the cupboard, Nona stumbled over a big dog stretched out on the kitchen floor. The large mutt with the yellow coat looked up from where it lay, and then plopped its head back down onto the wooden floor. “Maggie! What's Sam Houston doing in here? I've told you time after time to leave him outside. He gets hair all over the place.”

  “Sam Houston doesn't like the dog next door.”

  “That's because he's a coward! It's time he decided if he's a dog or a pussycat,” Nona declared.

  “He's no coward.”

  Nona knew that Maggie regarded her complaints with the usual teenage tolerance for adults' irritations, but she couldn't help insisting on what was right. The mass of red hair curled around Nona's face and little tendrils of it clung to her cheeks and forehead. She blew the bangs away from her forehead and decided that rather than argue with Maggie, she would take Sam Houston and go outside.

  “Come on, you mangy hound.”

  “You're going to hurt Sam Houston's feelings, calling him that.”

  “I should call him a hairy, worthless, mangy hound.”

  Following Nona through the kitchen and out the back door, Sam Houston lumbered down the steps and eased himself into a cool spot of shade at the base of the porch. Nona sat down on the steps, rested her chin in her hand, and let her mind drift. She found herself back in Home, the strange man's hand on her arm. Inwardly, she shivered. Most of the men she had encountered since coming to the camp had been polite and rather bashful. This man had been different.

  The loud blast from a car horn startled her, but then a secretive smile curled on her lips. The man in the next cabin was back and wanted to move his truck. Not much fun, is it, buster, she thought. She went back into the kitchen and peeked out the window. A tall, well-muscled man in faded jeans and an old plaid work shirt had his hand firmly on the truck's horn.