Men Of Moonstone Series

by Christine DeSmet

  “This is a joke, right?” Lily's petite frame seemed to shrink. “Tom? Why is the pest control man here?”

  Hyacinth hugged Lily. “He's really a DEA officer, and Lily Linden's brother. He's working for her. I'm sorry.”

  “Oh my gosh.” Lily sobbed into her hands. “Tom, you said your money came from gambling. How could you do this? To our neighbors? Our friends?”

  Tom had tears in his eyes, to his credit. “I meant to pay it all back. When I got a job.”

  Wailing, Lily raced out of the room.

  Jason felt sorry for Lily, but it didn't deter him from slipping plastic handcuffs on Tom. When he looked over at Hyacinth, she had tears gushing over her freckled cheeks.

  She said, “Poor Lily.” She hurried after Lily.

  It took that weekend and into the following week to clear up the many details of the crimes. Lily Bauer was inconsolable about her husband being in jail, according to Hyacinth who visited Lily every day. Lily had taken leave from the bank and the Mavens. She couldn't face her neighbors.

  Jason drove to Hyacinth's every day to inventory the items and sort out the stolen goods from the truly donated goods. Tildy and Toad had helped Tom by picking up items he said were for the swap meet, unaware that they were assisting with burglaries. Tom confessed to trying to sell things on the Internet. All tolled, he'd made about twenty-thousand dollars already.

  Hyacinth felt almost as violated as Lily over Tom's using her and her students to store stolen items. She told Jason over hot cocoa that Tuesday morning, “I feel so awful that my good intentions ended up with this happening. He didn't care about me. Or the Mavens.”

  “Sometimes men just can't take being without a job. It's an awful thing to the ego for some.”

  “And here I thought everybody in Moonstone was so nice.”

  “They are nice. He was desperate for cash to pay off his mortgage and to buy nice things for his wife. It wasn't anything personal against you.” Jason knew his words were hollow. Hyacinth hadn't smiled since they'd arrested Tom Bauer. Her hands hadn't been animated about anything.

  * * * *

  By the time Jason had helped his sister put together the paperwork, he'd been in Moonstone for ten days, meeting with an FBI official and the county sheriff. It was now his second Wednesday in the community, just a couple of days before the May Day celebrations. He had kept his relationship with Hyacinth business-like, too, but her melancholy gnawed at him. Somehow the case had truly depressed her. So Jason exhausted himself doing little things for Hyacinth like taking care of Tootsie's chicks that would be for sale when tourists came to town. Her husband, Bob, had been hospitalized, too, for heart problems again.

  But now it was time for Jason to get back to Texas, though with Hyacinth lost in her funk, his job here felt unfinished. He sat in his sister Lily's office, across the desk from her. She nibbled on crackers. He fiddled with his Stetson, which hung over one knee.

  “At least stay through May Day,” Lily said. “It's our first. And Hyacinth needs you. Why don't you help her with the swap meet at her place? I think she's going to have huge crowds out there.”

  “She deserves to bask in the glory of her sustainable projects without me and all this scandal to detract people from buying goods and learning from her great ideas. It'll bring her out of her funk. She's an Einstein, if you haven't noticed.” He remembered how much Hyacinth wanted to show up those stodgy professors who'd not believed in her.

  “Isn't she worth getting to know better?”

  “Now you sound like Boze and Kade. Sorry, I'm not here to find a wife. Besides, she doesn't need a man mucking up her life. She wants to finish a book and transform Moonstone single-handedly.”

  Lily took a sip of a lemon-lime soda. “So just like that, you'll be gone and I won't see you for months again?”

  “Hey, I text and call all the time.”

  “It's not the same. Besides, I'd like to know my baby's uncle will be just around the corner to babysit.”

  The notion of holding a baby that was related to him caused a hitch in his heartbeat. He put his Stetson back on and got up. “You take care of yourself, Sis.”

  Lily got up but crossed her arms. “Hold on, buster. Do you know why Hy cut off her hair?”

  “Spring haircut ritual?”

  “What kind of a DEA agent are you? Ask her. Stay awhile. She needs help out there.”

  His sister looked oddly panicked. “You're my older sister, but I don't like being bossed around. I don't want any woman bossing me around. I let Rayanne do that for too long. Staying in Moonstone could stifle me again.”

  “Stifle? You're worried about being stifled? Ruined by some woman? You've told me to quit apologizing and living in the past, but you've never gotten beyond it yourself. I have a baby on the way. I'm going to start worrying about this little girl or boy, and my husband. I don't want to worry about you risking your life just to bring down some drugged out creep driving across the border. But I will worry. I want you to be happy. Are you happy? Fulfilled? Satisfied?”

  “You're guilting me into staying to see what will become of me and Hyacinth?”

  “I'm trying, yes. She's probably in a funk because you're leaving. That's what I think. You're at least saying goodbye to her before you leave today?”

  “Yeah. I'm taking the brooders back over to her place. Then I'm heading for the airport.”

  Jason hugged his sister then went out to the LeBarron farm. He cleaned out his chicken coop apartment, then with dread he drove with the equipment and the last of the chicks to Hyacinth's place.

  ~—~—~—~ ~

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  * * *

  Chapter 8

  When he unloaded the brooders under Hyacinth's directions, he couldn't help but smile at the chicks pecking around his shoes. Standing in Hyacinth's barn, he picked up one chick at a time, bluish then lavender ones. He realized he was picking up those with the colors in Hyacinth's eyes. He let the lavender one sit in his palm an extra moment.

  Hyacinth said, “You're good at this. If the DEA ever gets dull, you could be a pretty darn good chicken farmer.”

  When Jason smiled at that, Hyacinth managed a crooked smile in return. His heart expanded toward her. He could breathe a little better.

  “Thanks, Hy.” Jason imagined taking Hyacinth into his arms, but he was scared that might lead to confusion again. There just wasn't a place for him in Hyacinth's life. He looked into her eyes, eyes that reflected him and each other into infinity. He wanted to walk away remembering that on some level he was equal to Hyacinth.

  To say goodbye, Jason accepted Hyacinth's invitation to come inside for chocolate chip cookies and goat's milk. As they walked through the yard, the goats, Blanca and Parda—Spanish for white and brown—looked down at him from the roof. He lifted his hat in salute.

  Hyacinth's rundown house smelled good inside. He realized it smelled like a home, infused with food smells and the residues of daily living. She served him a tall glass of cold goat's milk and said, “Higher in calcium and Vitamins A and B than cow's milk.”

  “Like I said, you could be President.” He dunked a cookie in his glass. “How are Tootsie and Bob doing?”

  “They'll be out of the hospital in time for May Day, but they won't be in shape to take care of chickens. Bob especially. They discovered the poor guy's got a bleeding ulcer.”

  “Sorry to hear that. So you're going to take care of your place and the Winters’ chickens, too?”

  “The Mavens are helping. They took on the project without question. You'll be shocked to know that Lily Bauer volunteered.”

  “Will she wear her pearls?”

  “No. She figures Tom stole in order to pay for such things for her. She's putting them up for sale at the swap meet, along with most of her jewelry. She says she's going to repay everybody. We women learned a lesson or two in all of this mess.”

  Sadness and loneliness overwhelmed Jason with the ticking of the kitchen
clock. He needed to get out of here, back to work down South catching creeps in warm weather. But he accepted a second cookie.

  Hyacinth started sweeping her kitchen floor while he ate. Mice ran around the furniture in the living room, out of Hyacinth's sight. Jason smiled, then rested his gaze on Hyacinth's soft curls.

  He asked, “Why did you cut off that long braid?”

  She stopped sweeping, leaning on the broom. “Because Willa Hamm has breast cancer. She's going to lose all her hair. She needs my hair more than I do.”

  Hyacinth's eyes shimmered.

  Jason got up, set her broom aside, then pulled her into his arms for a hug. “Hey, she'll be okay. Because of you. I can't imagine you or the Mavens letting one of your own die. She'll pull through this. Because of you.”

  Hyacinth dried her eyes on his shirt. He ran a hand into her curls. She was as soft and vulnerable as a baby chick he'd saved days ago.

  When he let go of the hug, he brushed her lips with his. Then he kissed her. Carefully because of her bruises. His insides filled with Hyacinth's sweet smells, the creamy milk on her breath, the perfume of clean straw and chickens and chocolate chip cookies.

  Hyacinth broke them apart, a hand squeezing his arm. “Thanks for everything. The skunk hasn't come back.”

  “Good thing. She owes me new boots and a coat.”

  Hyacinth nodded, taking up her broom again, then holding out her hand as she'd done the first day they met. “Well, I want to thank you, Jason Bellows, Pest Control Fellow.”

  Jason shook her hand. This time he held her hand a little longer than was polite, but he wanted to remember that firm, warm, sure hand. “Good luck with the clucks.”

  “Pest control poet.” Her eyes glittered. “You'll be back to see the baby when it's born?”

  “Sure.”

  “See you around Thanksgiving then.”

  “It's a deal.”

  Then Jason drove into Moonstone, past the mansion where he'd learn to embroider, past the park with its giant oak tree, past the hardware store where the men always gathered for morning coffee and gossip. He wondered how they were dealing with Tom's betrayal.

  Jason got to the airport in Duluth two hours ahead of time like he should. But he couldn't make himself return the rental truck. He didn't want to sit and fidget and think inside the airport. He couldn't breathe just thinking about it.

  Agitated, his brain a beehive of thoughts, he drove back through Superior to the hill on Hwy. 53 above the harbor of Lake Superior. He parked, then stepped out, his shabby nylon coat rippling in the stiff wind. Wicked whitecaps whipped the lake, the stuff of legends about downed ships.

  Hyacinth's place overlooks this same body of water. If somebody would cut a few trees she'd have a view to die for. But she doesn't have time to look. She's taking care of two farms. Helping Tootsie Winters. She cut off her hair for Willa Hamm. She's raising money to build the town's library after being in Moonstone only two months. She plans to start a community garden. She needs her roof repaired. With all that going on, will Hyacinth get to do what still bothers her—finish her book?

  Jason adjusted his Stetson. He couldn't deny it—he felt the pull of Moonstone on his soul. But I'm good at what I do. A man just doesn't up and quit what he's good at. Look at Tom Bauer, the effect it had on him to be without a job.

  Hyacinth had said he could be a chicken farmer. And she'd called him “brilliant.”

  He laughed out loud.

  Then he sobered.

  He'd worked years to rid the world of drugs. For what end? If a person wanted job security, chasing the drug trade was the job to be in. But to what end? Was any of it memorable or worth remembering?

  He would always remember washing a chicken with a woman who loved chickens.

  Jason drew in a deep draught of the fresh Wisconsin air. He was breathing in brisk, new spring air. He let out his breath, heard its puff and power. He'd made a woman happy by giving life to baby chicks by breathing on them. Breathing. That's all he'd done and it had charmed Hyacinth. Sometimes, the simplest things in life were the most meaningful.

  Then he smiled, just as he'd done in the store when he'd spotted the crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars. But would Hyacinth call the idea “brilliant"?

  * * * *

  Jason showed up at Hyacinth's door, shivering in a downpour with sleet mixed in. The weather woman called it “snain” and “snizzle” on the radio, snow and rain, snow and drizzle. Whatever it was, he hated it. He almost got back in the truck.

  Hyacinth opened her door with shock on her face. She tucked her wavy hair behind her ears in a rare, nervous gesture. “Why are you grinning at me like that?” she asked. “You got a haircut. I like it.”

  “Thanks. I like your earlobes. They're pink, not turquoise like your silkies. I like pink, but not pink carpet. Bob Winters probably hates that pink carpet his wife picked out.”

  “You're being odd. Did you forget something?”

  He stepped inside the porch, his arms crossed over the front of his nylon jacket. By the time they got into the kitchen, his heartbeat pecked about inside his chest worse than the silkie chicks pecking at feed near his feet. He was sweating now.

  Jason laid his hat on Hyacinth's table. “I'm here because my job wasn't done.”

  “The DEA has you on another case here?”

  “No. I'm a pest control officer now.”

  He put his hand inside the nylon jacket. He brought out a gray and white bundle of fur.

  “A kitten?” Hyacinth beamed, reaching out to take it. “Where did you find this?”

  “He's yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “You have mice, and I know the kitten isn't like a ring or anything but I was thinking we could start with the silver kitten and work up to something gold—”

  “Jason, stop. Stop talking. I have mice?”

  “Your house is infested. That's why I got you this kitten. It's from the shelter. They assured me it comes from a long line of barn cats who are great mousers.”

  Jason grabbed his Stetson off the table to hide the nerves making him shake. “You like him?”

  “Of course.” Hyacinth kissed the kitten's head. “Thank you, thank you.”

  She petted the kitten, then Hyacinth eyed Jason. “Did I hear right? You said something about us starting with the cat and working up to ... a ring?”

  His face burned. The flush swept down to his toes inside his running shoes. “Here's the deal. I can't leave you here alone to run two farms at once. The silkie chickens are delicate. They take a lot of attention from somebody, more than the Mavens can provide you.”

  “Indeed the chickens are delicate.” Hyacinth smiled over the kitten purring like a motorboat now.

  “And Willa Hamm and all those kids need help. I was thinking maybe I could help with a fundraiser for the family. I don't know much about such things, but you do. We could make a difference in their lives. Make sure all nine kids got tuition to college. There must be other kids around here who need help, too. I think your community garden could create jobs, too...”

  “That would mean you'd be staying for quite some time,” she said with a coquettishness that didn't surprise Jason at all. “How would you make a living?”

  He said, “My sister's having a baby. I can't let a pregnant sister of mine be put in the line of fire. I figure I could take over her job for a while, help her out. I'm already deputized. Shouldn't waste the paperwork. If she wants to go back to work, I've got this pest control thing to fall back on.”

  “Where are you going to stay?”

  “In a chicken coop. For now.”

  “Then what?” She walked up to him, her eyes welding him in place.

  He could see himself in her eyes. “Then I'll cut down trees so we can have a view of Moonstone and Lake Superior. I'll build you a new house out here from those trees, so nothing goes to waste.”

  “You know how to build a house?”

  “No. But there are men aroun
d here like Asher Hamm and Kirk Kaminski and others who need a job. And Peter knows architects.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “I love it when you say that. I ... love you, Hy.”

  “But why?”

  He swallowed. He hadn't expected to be questioned or doubted. The kitten purred louder, blinking back at him along with Hyacinth.

  “Because I have no choice. Because I've never washed a chicken with a woman before. Because you're a good listener. Because you're the first person who never used me or asked anything of me.”

  Jason took a deep breath and let it out again. “Because you helped me breathe again, Hy. I've heard it's called Moonstone magic. One of your M words.”

  “That's brilliant!”

  “Brilliant that I fell in love with you this fast?”

  “No, yes. I love you, too. Moonstone Magic. That's what we'll call the community garden and the goat cheese and all the products. Oh my gosh, it's so simple yet brilliant.” She handed him the kitten. “We need to hurry and make signs and buttons before the swap meet. I'll get people to buy Moonstone Magic memberships.” Hyacinth's arms started doing their whirly-gigs that he loved. “Where'd I put my phone? I'll call the Mavens. Oh, Jason, I need you! I love you!”

  She flew into his arms, kitten and all. Over her shoulder Jason counted eight mice scurrying about in the living room. One paused to sit up on its haunches, as if assessing the future ahead for them all. Jason winked at the mouse, then put the kitten down on the floor.

  Jason picked up Hyacinth in his arms, enjoying the shock in her crystalline eyes. He carried her up to her tiny attic bedroom, where they made love while the rain pattered on the roof. It was a new kind of undercover work. And Jason knew he'd made the right decision about his future.

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  * * *

  About the Author

  About Christine DeSmet (Dame Moonstone):

  Christine DeSmet writes short fiction, novels, screenplays, and stage plays, and has won several awards for her work, including recognition for various Moonstone stories from Romantic Times magazine and the association, Electronically Published Internet Connection. In her novel world, she's been a Golden Heart finalist three times and won two contests sponsored by Romance Writers of America. Her other awards include earning first place in the Slamdance Film Festival contest with a co-written script called, “Chinaware-Fragile,” which optioned to New Line Cinema. A stage play, “CLIMAX!,” was a top ten finalist in the Wisconsin Wrights New Play Contest. Christine is a member of RWA; Jewels of the Quill; Wisconsin Screenwriters Forum; and Writers Guild of America, East. She teaches fiction and screenwriting at University of Wisconsin-Madison.