“Anyway, Heidi has tagged a few items in the store, things she wants to use for the wedding. I don’t know what to do with them though. They’re taking up floor space.”
“How much is there? Anything heavy?”
“No, not really. Some boxes of stuff and a table or two.”
“Bernie said we could use her garage to store things. Maybe I can pick them up in the van and take them to her place.”
“You sure? I could do it with my truck, but I’m not sure when I’ll have time.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it in the next few days.”
“That would work. No hurry, liebchen; but with the wedding still a month and a half away, I don’t want anything to accidentally get sold.”
“No problem. Meanwhile, do you have time for coffee and a chat?” Jaymie asked, writing a few things on her grocery list and making a note to herself to pick up the items from The Junk Stops here.
“For you, always,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. He was a burly fellow, with a broad chest, and his voice sounded like it came from deep within.
“I’ll meet you . . . where?”
“Come to the house,” he said, referring to his cabin. “Jocie will be dropped off by the bus about four fifteen, and then we have to work on an art project. If I’m not there when you get to the cabin, let yourself in.”
An hour later Jaymie did just that. She pulled her beat-up van around the back and got out, locked the vehicle behind her, and headed to the house. Jakob had built the log cabin himself by hand on a chunk of the Müller property tucked in the corner of his Christmas tree farm. Surrounded by his acres of pine trees at various stages of growth, it was also overshadowed by a huge old tree in which nestled the tree house where Jakob had proposed to her.
She let herself into the cabin and put on the kettle for tea on the propane stove. Most of the main floor of the log cabin was one huge room with heavy beams supporting the upper mezzanine story, where the two bedrooms were located. The kitchen was along the front, overlooking the porch, which faced the road and driveway; this part of the cabin had a lower ceiling than the big, airy living area beyond, which was bounded on the other side by a huge fieldstone fireplace. Comfortable chairs and sofas dotted the space, an ever-changing rotation of furnishings.
She stood and stared out the kitchen window. That first evening Jakob had welcomed her in and she immediately felt safer, the warmth and comfort of the home he had made for his daughter seeping into her bones. Though she had dated a reasonable amount in the past fifteen years, no man had ever felt exactly right until Jakob. He was the kindest, gentlest man she had ever known. Maybe they had rushed into an engagement, but she had never felt one moment of doubt.
He pulled in the drive—his vehicle was the pickup truck version of her beat-up van, dull white and rusty—and jumped out, running around to the back and hauling something out of the truck bed. He was always bringing home something from his store, so the cabin was never furnished exactly the same two visits in a row. His family also benefited from his junk store finds, as did Gus’s. Both men kept a list of things their family needed and wanted, and sometimes came up with surprisingly valuable vintage finds! Jakob had told her about his latest discovery, a storage locker with a treasure trove of items from a defunct stationery store—expensive pens, fun and funky paper, vintage journals, and fountain pen ink in fabulous colors—and several lots from an estate sale, including antique cake tins and jelly molds. He knew Jaymie well enough to set aside the best of those for her to look at for her own collection and that of the historical house.
This time he hefted onto his shoulder a white painted three-shelf bookcase with intricate molding atop. She ran to open the door for him. He carried it in over his head, set it down, then greeted her in an entirely satisfactory way. The kettle whistling broke it up and she turned, grinning, saying over her shoulder, “Okay, so what is the shelf for?”
“Jocie wanted more room for her books.”
“Atta girl, Jocie! Gotta love a kid who reads. She’ll take over the world.”
“Yeah, well, someone keeps buying her more books,” he said, grinning at her.
She made a face at him. It was true; she had grown up reading and loving books, so she wanted any child of hers (her heart thudded at that; Jocie would be her child too, in every single way but by birth) to be a reader. Reading fiction made one more empathetic. “She reads them so fast I have to keep up,” she said, smiling back at him.
“Let’s wait for her up in the tree house. Just going to change into something clean,” he said over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner and up the stairs. “Be right back!”
Jaymie made a picnic of it all, with the teapot and some cups on a tray, and a container of treats that she had left last time she was out. Jakob, dressed in a faded Müller Christmas Tree Farm T-shirt and jeans, raced outside ahead of her and stood proudly, holding a rope under the big old tree. “I made a dumbwaiter so we can haul our picnics up to the tree house!” he said, indicating a wooden platform with low sides, like a tray, suspended by ropes in the four corners. “Set the tea stuff on it.”
Jaymie eyed it dubiously. “Are you sure it won’t tip?”
“Positive. I have it attached to a pulley so it will move smoothly.”
She set the tray on the dumbwaiter. She should have had faith, she thought, as she climbed up and waited, pulling her thick sweater closer around her. The tray made it safely to the top, and she unloaded it as he climbed the ladder to join her. He was a good builder, evident by the fact that he’d constructed the log cabin from a kit with his brothers’ and friends’ help. He wasn’t going to want to leave his log cabin home behind, nor was it even fair to ask him to, not with his tree farm and Jocie’s life here. But she didn’t want to leave her house behind, either. She loved her home!
Tea first; Jakob didn’t mind tea (though he preferred coffee), so she fixed him a mug, strong with just sugar, as he liked it, and offered him the plate of treats. There were his favorite peanut butter cookies, as well as some chunks of Queen Elizabeth cake, also one of his favorites. Good thing he liked sweets because she was always baking, and someone had to eat it! She checked her watch; it was four. Was fifteen minutes enough time to broach such a serious topic as where they’d live?
“What’s up?” he asked after draining his cup and dusting cake crumbs off his fingers. He laid back on the quilt he kept up in the tree house and watched her. “You look like there’s something on your mind.”
She smiled down at him. He motioned for her to join him, and she did, turning on her side and fitting herself to his strong body. It gave her a warm feeling in her heart to realize that he knew her well enough already that he could tell when she had something she needed to talk about. Staring out the big window with the afternoon sun slanting in through leafy green, she sighed happily as he pulled her close, warming her up. Whatever it took, they’d work it out.
“There is something we haven’t talked about yet,” she started.
“Where we’re going to live once we’re married?”
She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at his face. He was bearded, something she’d never liked before, but on him it was yummy. “How did you know I was going to say that?” She searched his eyes. “Are you developing skills as a mind reader?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot and wanted to raise the topic, but wasn’t sure how,” he admitted, his brown eyes fixed on her face. He took her free hand and wove his fingers in with hers. “Do you have any thoughts?”
“This is mostly about Jocie. We need to think of her first.”
“I agree she’s a consideration—maybe the most important one—but not the only one. I want you to be happy, too,” he said, squeezing her hand, his voice gruff with feeling. “And I want to be happy. We’re going to be a unit, Jaymie, three sides to a triangle of love.”
“How can we manage it? How do we figure it out?” It seemed an im
possible task, and she quailed at the thought.
The sound of a heavy motor on the road and a vehicle coming to a halt, the whine of brakes and kids’ laughter echoing in the spring air, made them both stand up and look out the window overlooking the road. Jocie clambered down from the school bus and Jakob shouted a greeting. As the bus headed off, Jocie raced toward the tree, dropped her book bag and sweater at the bottom, got something out of her book bag, and climbed up the ladder, her grunts and huffing and puffing floating up to them. With her disproportionately short legs, climbing was never going to be easy, but she’d persist.
Her head appeared first in the hole that topped the ladder up to the tree house. Today her blonde hair was done up in braids attached to the top of her head. Jakob had become proficient in little girls’ hairstyles, he had told Jaymie, since becoming her sole parent.
Finally the rest of her appeared and she squealed and lunged at Jaymie, who hugged her fiercely. Jaymie poured her a cup of weak tea, liberally whitened with milk, and handed her a cookie as Jocie showed them her homework.
After a few minutes Jakob exchanged a glance with Jaymie and said, “Why don’t we ask Jocie what she thinks about what we were talking about?”
“Okay.”
The little girl looked between them expectantly, her expression becoming serious. She was very in tune with adults, more so than most kids her age, Jaymie thought. There was an appealing gravity in her expression when she spoke about things that mattered to her, like books and animals and school.
“Jocie, we were discussing what we’re going to do once Jaymie and I get married,” Jakob said, taking his daughter’s hand.
She frowned. “We’re going to go out and stay at the cottage when you come back from camping,” she said, cocking her head to one side. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes, but your daddy means, where are we going to live.” Jocie looked alarmed and Jaymie’s heart sunk.
“We’re going to trade, right?” she asked, looking from one adult face to the other.
“Trade?” Jaymie glanced toward Jakob, who shrugged. “What do you mean trade?”
“We’re going to live everywhere. I mean, we’re going to stay here sometimes, and stay at your house in town sometimes. One of my best friends, Peyton, lives one road over from you in town. If we stay at your house, then I can visit her and have sleepovers easier, right? I can walk over by myself.”
It was so simple, so evident, so uncomplicated in her view, and Jaymie laughed with relief. “Well, if that works out for your daddy, then I think that would be simply . . . splendid!”
“I think we’ll be able to work something out,” Jakob said.
With a smile that reached right down into her heart, Jaymie knew her life was about to get splendidly, messily complicated. And she was going to love every busy moment of it.
• • •
Late October 1984
“HE’S SO GOOD-LOOKING!” Becca muttered to Dee, staring at Gus Majewski, who was making out with Rhonda Welch. He had her pushed right up against a pillar near the lockers and his hand was almost (but not quite) on her butt; if the principal came along they’d be toast. Rhonda was in senior year, as was Gus, and they were the new “it” couple. Everyone knew Gus was going to go to college on a football scholarship. He had sandy hair that seemed to ruffle into place perfectly. His broad shoulders were always clad in a football jersey, and his jeans were skintight. “What a hunk!” Becca sighed. It wasn’t fair; all the good-looking guys had girlfriends.
“Yeah, well, Rhonda has him firmly locked up.” Dee was dressed pretty but practical in a wool skirt and sweater. No faddish Madonna lace gloves for her, just good-quality stuff from the only clothing store in Wolverhampton, Top Teens.
There had been an unscheduled fire drill, and they had all been sent out to shiver in the cold of late October. They were now gathered together in the hallway, waiting to get back into class, and every set of eyes was turned to the make-out spectacle between Gus and Rhonda.
“Easy to see why. She’s a knockout,” Becca said with an envious sigh. Rhonda Welch was one of those girls who seemed to have it all together even in high school. Perfect skin, perfect body, perfect hair. She looked like Phoebe Cates, with dark shiny hair and dark eyes.
“If you’re into perfection,” Dee said, her tone wry as she hefted her books on her hip. “Johnny says she’s cross-eyed.”
Becca bumped her shoulder affectionately. Dee was her rock, the friend she could always count on. Valetta was great but there was her brother, who was a pill, and the constant tension he brought with him. “I saw Rhonda out with Brock a couple of times after he ditched poor Delores. I wonder what happened there?”
“I heard Rhonda cut Brock loose as soon as Gus gave her a promise ring.”
“Who wouldn’t?” At least she could say that to Dee, who disliked Brock about as much as Becca did.
“Don’t look now, but he’s coming down the hall,” Dee murmured, her eyes widening. “There’s going to be trou-bull!”
Brock had stopped dead and glowered at the oblivious couple, waiting until he would be noticed, but the vice principal strode down the hall, blew a whistle and ordered them all back to class. Brock stormed off but purposely bumped Gus, sending him careening into Rhonda. Gus rounded with a swinging fist and hit Brock on the shoulder, a glancing blow. The vice principal hollered and separated the two combatants, ordering them both to the principal’s office. As the cluster of students cleared, Becca saw Delores standing in the middle of the hall, books clutched to her red sweater, staring after Brock, a look of longing on her plain face.
“Love doesn’t seem to be much fun,” Becca muttered, feeling a pang for her summer friend.
“Hmph. That’s not love,” Dee said with a sniff. “That is one sad girl looking to fit in.”
That was easy for Dee to say, Becca thought. All she saw was a loner with no ability to fit in, a homely awkward girl. But Becca knew Delores: knew her hopes, to move to Hollywood and become a star, her vowed intention to leave home the minute she legally could. She sympathized with her. Everyone always told teenagers to enjoy their teen years. It’s the best years of your life her mother always said. You’ll look back and wish you could stay a teenager forever.
But it wasn’t that easy. Becca could see why Delores now felt even worse than she had months ago. Going out with Brock had enlivened her, given her a glow. She had been different while Brock was paying attention to her: smiling, bright . . . bubbly, even. And now that he had dropped her, she seemed lost, the bubbliness flattened like ginger ale left out too long.
“I have to talk to her. She doesn’t have anyone else.”
“That’s because she gives everyone else the cold shoulder,” Dee said. “She thinks we’re the problem? I’ve tried being friends. She just won’t have it, except with you, I guess.”
Dee didn’t realize it but she often gave off a vibe, not like she was better than anyone else exactly, but . . . Becca shook her head. She couldn’t even explain it to herself. Dee was just . . . Dee. Becca knew she had a good heart, but she was kind of quick to judge and expected everyone to be as confident as she was.
Becca knew that Delores felt left out. For one thing, it seemed to her that everyone else had parents, and she didn’t. Everyone else had a normal home, and she didn’t. Becca understood because right now she felt out of place among all her teenaged friends too, like she had all the responsibilities of having a baby and it wasn’t even hers. Her mom was sick, her dad was worn out and Jaymie needed her.
“Yeah, well, everyone is being kind of a jerk to her right now, Dee. I have to talk to her.” She headed after Delores, but the girl disappeared in the stream of students returning to class.
Nine
Late April—The Present
JAYMIE, INVITED FOR DINNER AT THE CABIN, had gone home, fed Denver and Hoppy, and brought her dog back with her to play with Jocie’s kitten. Dinner had been a frozen pizza and salad, a fast and easy meal for a b
usy weeknight. Jocie was now in bed with her kitten, Little Bit—the name was well on its way to being shortened to LiliBit—and Jaymie sat on the sofa with Jakob, a nature show on the TV. They talked about the future, immediate and long term, interspersed with pauses for kissing. Hoppy, exhausted from time spent with Jocie and her kitten, was curled up on a bunched-up blanket in front of the fireplace, where the warmth from the fire kept him cozy.
Jakob’s cell phone buzzed; he checked a text. “Helmut needs to talk to me about the accounts for the tree farm. Do you mind if he drops in for a minute?”
“Of course not. I should get going anyway,” she said, starting to get up.
“No, stay! Please,” he said, a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t know Helmut very well. He’s the shyest of my brothers, but he’s a reader and a thinker. You two would love each other if you had more time to get to know him. And he is going to be my best man.”
“Okay. I like Sonya and the two kids,” Jaymie said, of Helmut’s live-in girlfriend and her two daughters. “She’s been great.”
Helmut, who looked a lot like Jakob except that he was shorter, slimmer and quieter, arrived, and the brothers talked about business while she made a pot of coffee. When she brought the tray to the coffee table, Helmut, his expression lit with curiosity, said, “Jaymie, I saw your name in the paper. You and your sister found that body at the Paget place.”
“Becca and I were clearing the house out. It was a shock, let me tell you.”
He leaned forward, his narrow face twisted in a serious expression. “Is it really Delores Paget?”
“Did you know her?” Jaymie asked, surprised by his familiar tone.
His brown eyes had an ineffable expression of sorrow. He stroked his beard, a sign of agitation with him, Jaymie had noticed, and nodded.
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