by Lucy Finn
Suddenly somebody else was yelling and pounding on the door. I saw Gene scoop up the urn just before he grabbed my arm. The last thing I remembered was the door flying open and the Channel 28 news crew crashing into the room with the cameras rolling.
In an instant I found myself sitting in the driver’s seat of the Beemer in the municipal parking lot. My briefcase lay in my lap. Gene sat in the passenger seat, Ron’s urn between his knees. Gene’s shoulders were jerking back and forth, and I figured he was so mad he was shaking in rage. Then peals of laughter erupted from his lips. He pounded the dashboard. He howled with laughter until tears ran down his cheeks. He tried to stifle himself before he looked over at me sitting there, my face white as chalk. He started to laugh even harder. When he caught his breath, he managed to say, “That sure didn’t go the way I planned it. Ha ha ha ha!”
“I don’t see anything funny,” I huffed.
“You! That snake!” he choked out, and starting laughing again. He didn’t stop until I was almost back to Noxen.
Chapter 15
On the way home I called the Katos and told them I would be stopping by within the next half hour. I also told them that I had found a watchdog for them and was bringing him along. As I ended the call, I realized that fatigue was wrapping itself around me like a fog. I suppose my adrenaline rush had worn off. I yawned and took one hand off the steering wheel to rub my eyes. Gene must have noticed because I heard bells, and a cardboard cup of coffee with a lid and a doughnut appeared in the cup holders of the console.
“I’m going to get fat, but thanks, I needed this,” I said and smiled at him. I picked up the cup; the coffee was hot and strong.
“You’re trying to do too much in one day,” he commented.
I knew that, but it irritated me to hear him say it. However, in the interest of building a relationship, I swallowed the barbed wire response I felt like making and said, “I agree with you. I’m learning on the job right now. When I was working before, I didn’t have a baby. It changes things.”
“So it does,” Gene said, his expression unreadable.
I pulled into the Dallas police station parking lot. Cal Metz’s nephew, Tom Metz, an old classmate of mine, must have seen me coming because before I even got out of the car, he walked outside with the big yellow Lab on a leash. I swear the dog had a goofy smile on his face. Tom told me he was glad I had found a good home for Casey. He didn’t have much of a life at Scabby’s at the end of a chain, but despite that, he was friendly and well-behaved. He had found his way into the hearts of all the officers and become a favorite. Tom gave Casey a final pat, and the dog jumped into the backseat of the car without hesitation.
Casey seemed to remember Gene. He stuck his big head between the headrests and covered Gene’s face with kisses. I hoped he responded as well to the Katos.
I needn’t have worried. Ken and Mihoko waited for us in the yard as I pulled behind their house. When I got out with Casey, the cats all scattered, but he didn’t give chase. Instead he made a beeline for the Katos, his tail wagging so hard I thought it would fly off. Both the Katos gave a little bow as the dog greeted them; then Mihoko stooped down and hugged him. She began speaking to him in Japanese, but her tone needed no translation. I would say it was love at first sight.
Gene had exited from the car and was standing next to the BMW. He was staring at the Katos. I should have prepared him for this meeting. He had been fighting the Germans in North Africa, but in 1942 the Allies were also at war with the Japanese. Following the code of Bushido, the Japanese military considered being taken prisoner a cowardly act; a true soldier should fight to the death. Because of that, Japan’s treatment of all prisoners of war, particularly captured pilots, was often horrific. In addition, the city of Darwin on the Australia mainland had been attacked a few times, and the country had been threatened with invasion. To Gene, the Japanese were the enemy.
I walked over to him. “Would you rather wait in the car?” I said softly.
He shook his head. “I’m okay. It was a shock, that’s all.”
“The Allies won the war,” I said, realizing he might not know that.
“Yes, I found that out online. I also discovered that Japan is now a strong ally of the West. I know they renounced war and their 1947 constitution is called the Peace Constitution. It’s just hard to get my mind around it.”
“Things have changed a great deal since 1942. It’s a different world,” I said.
“It’s the future,” he replied. “And I wonder if I belong in it.” His eyes looked infinitely sad.
We followed the Katos inside and took off our shoes. While Ken got Casey a bowl of water, I stood in the tiny kitchen and told them that the dog had belonged to Scabby Hoyt, who had kept the dog chained outside next to a coop. I added that I wasn’t sure if Casey was housebroken or how he’d behave in the house, but that the officers down at the police station were crazy about him. Then I waited to see how they’d respond.
Casey himself sat calmly next to Mihoko, his head cocked as if listening. She looked down at the dog and softly spoke to him in Japanese. He whined and lay down at her feet. “I think he will be fine in the house,” she said. “He belonged to the man who tried to kill our hen and now has come to guard us—it is a balance, you see. It is exactly right. And he will have a happier life.”
Ken nodded. “Yes, I agree. It is a circle now complete.” He looked at the big, lanky yellow dog and pronounced him a fine animal who was destined to take good care of everyone there. Then the couple discussed what they might give him for dinner until they could buy some dog food; then Ken and I went back to Gene, who stood in the great room, where yoga classes were given. Mihoko stayed in the kitchen but soon appeared with a pot of tea and four handle-less cups. She put them down on a low wooden table, and we all sat on floor cushions around it. She poured us each a cup of the steaming green liquid, then gracefully knelt on her cushion. Casey lay down next to her, and she kept her hand on his head.
I introduced Gene as an associate from Australia, then told the Katos I believed I now knew why they were being harassed and what we could do about it. I warned them they had to listen carefully to the advice I would give them.
“We are very grateful. We will listen,” Ken said solemnly.
“First of all, has anyone offered to buy your property recently?” I asked.
“We had a letter yesterday. We have saved it for you,” Ken answered.
Mihoko nodded, stood, and went to a nearby desk. She brought back a letter, handed it to me, and I read it. It was from the Running Brook Development Company. It said they had a buyer for this farm, and if the Katos were interested, they should call the number below. Its content was a soft sell devoid of anything even remotely threatening—but it was from the same outfit that had bought out the Sikorskys, the farm with the tainted well. It was no coincidence for this offer to arrive when the Katos were being terrified by what might be a hostile community.
I asked if I could keep the letter, and put it into my briefcase. “I imagine their next step will be to contact you by phone,” I said. “When they call, you are to tell them that you already have a buyer. Don’t say anything else except to tell them to contact me and then give them my number.”
Alarmed, Ken protested that they didn’t want to sell the B and B.
I told him I understood that, but that there was a problem. They might not even legally own the land. I explained about the stipulations in the grant of land to John Kawatchski back in 1785 and how their property was almost certainly Shawnee tribal land. “Tell me, how many acres do you need to run your farm? I notice that you have a great deal of woodland.”
“That is true. Thirty acres is what we actually farm. Most of the land is forest. But it is beautiful forest. We would not want it cut down.”
I could sense there wasn’t going to be a completely happy resolution to this case, but I hoped I could create a compromise that everyone could live with. I proposed that we try to find a
middle road. I suggested that I contact the Shawnee and tell them of the deed. I believed that the Shawnee didn’t know about the land but that someone both greedy and venal did, someone who wanted to force the Katos to sell out cheaply, and then turn around and sell it to the Shawnee for a great deal of money.
Mihoko said she was getting very confused. If the Katos didn’t own the land, how could they sell it to the Running Brook Company or anyone? she asked.
She had a point, but I explained that the land might be sold, just as the Yeagers had sold it to the Katos, as long as the Shawnee didn’t know about the property and step in to stop the sale. If they knew, I was certain they would want to claim it. But it would cost the tribe more in a court battle to prove their claim than to offer the Katos a settlement to voluntarily give up the property. That settlement could be for a huge sum, and my job would be to get the Katos as much as possible. If the Katos insisted, I could try to arrange an exemption of thirty acres with the B and B for the Katos to keep. But the peace and quiet would soon disappear. A large, noisy casino would attract thousands of tourists.
Upon hearing this Ken became very upset. It was the peaceful surroundings that had attracted them to the property to start with.
“Then, as sad as it is, you might want to give up all the land,” I advised. “You should think about that. There are many other wonderful farms in this area. I’m sure I can locate another for you. And with the money from the sale you could create a wonderful Buddhist center and not worry about finances.” I suddenly realized that I felt happy and excited. We were talking about real estate, and I felt comfortable and confident, brokering a deal here in Noxen as I had brokered dozens of others in Philadelphia. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, and I saw that Gene was watching me with frank admiration.
Getting right to the bottom line, Ken asked what the settlement meant in dollars and cents. He embraced the spiritual side of existence but he grasped the power of money.
I said I thought we were talking a minimum of a million dollars and very possibly more.
Ken and Mihoko exchanged glances. They both looked a little stunned. Ken asked if there was any way to keep the land and not turn it over to the Shawnee.
I took my time before answering. I understood that letting go of a home, or a dream, represented a tremendous emotional loss. I told the Katos that they faced a long, costly court fight that they would almost certainly lose. I strongly advised them to accept the reality that the land rightfully belonged to the Shawnee people and to let it go. I waited a moment, then said, “Ken, Mihoko, this discovery may turn out to be a gift. Perhaps it was meant to happen, to become the path to creating the kind of retreat you could not have afforded otherwise.” I asked them to talk things over and consider what I had told them.
Mihoko turned her soft brown eyes to Ken. “We will consider. The Buddha says that attachment to earthly possessions keeps one unhappy and without contentment. We must practice nonattachment.”
“Good,” I said. “And I must urge you to decide quickly. I need to tell the Shawnee about this property and make sure their claim to the land becomes public knowledge. That will remove the motive for anyone to frighten you into selling and you will be safe. Do you understand?”
They both nodded yes. I felt very relieved. I wanted to move fast to prevent another incident. Once I contacted the Shawnee, everyone would be out of harm’s way, and it would simply be a matter of getting the most money I could for the Katos. And to be frank, my seven percent commission on the sale would buy a lot of financial security for Brady and me.
That night I felt physically worn out but exhilarated. I had taken care of business and I was pleased with the result. When we returned home, I told my mother that I felt the Katos’ problems were over. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which made a blush start up my neck. My mother is not a frequent kisser.
“First you solved Peggy Sue’s problem and now you’ve helped Mihoko and Ken. Do you see what a difference you can make in people’s lives?” Her eyes were shining when she looked at me. “You’re smart and you care. This community needs you here,” she added. “I’m very proud of you.”
“I thought you wanted me to make partner in Philadelphia,” I said.
“No, I wanted you to achieve your dreams. But I always felt you could have much bigger dreams.” She looked over at Gene. “And now I think you do.”
After that brief show of emotion, her manner became as it usually was: unsentimental and practical. She reminded me that we needed to develop a child care schedule, told me she’d call me tomorrow, and hurried out.
Totally beat and barely able to get up the energy to change into a pair of comfortable jeans, I appreciated Gene the genie, as chef and chief bottle washer, more than ever. While I fed Brady, he conjured up a classy arrangement of cocktail shrimp on cracked ice for an appetizer. Then he served grilled wild salmon with dill, spring greens, warm dinner rolls redolent with butter, and a créme brûlée for dessert. I felt my waistline expanding just by looking at it.
“You know,” Gene said after the main course was devoured and I had stuck a spoon into my créme brûlée.
“What?” I said, finding his leg under the table with my bare foot.
“Things turned out well today, don’t you think?” he asked as he reached down and massaged my instep.
“Hmmm, this dessert is heavenly.” I moaned as I licked the spoon and closed my eyes. “And yes, I think the day, overall, was amazing. Thank you, by the way, for your quick thinking in getting us out of that apartment.”
“Quick thinking is what I do best. Well, maybe second best.” He grinned. “Seriously, when you actually follow my advice, you don’t end up A over T.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.” My spoon paused in midair.
“It means arse over tits, and I meant it in the best possible way,” Gene said, reaching across the table and taking my free hand. “All I’m asking is that you be open and honest. Include me before you commit me to do something. And please—I mean this—please promise me you won’t do anything else dangerous.”
I squeezed his hand. “Does that mean you care? About me, I mean?”
“You know I care, don’t you? I do care, Ravine, very much. I worry about you taking risks. Please answer my question. Will you promise?” He squeezed my fingers.
I looked at Gene intently. I truly meant every word when I said, “I promise.” Then I stood up and leaned across the table and kissed him. He tasted even sweeter than the créme brûlée.
After we finished eating, Gene cleaned up in a wink and joined Brady and me on the sofa in time to watch the evening news.
The broadcast began, as it always does, with a close-up of the news team at the Channel 28 news anchor desk. The anchorwoman, a blond Barbra Streisand look-alike, smiled into the camera in front of her and read from the teleprompter: “Good evening. This is the six o’clock news with Andy Mehalchik and me, Lendall Stout. Now for our lead story tonight.” Then she turned to face the camera to her left. “What kind of neighbor would give you nightmares? How about forty-eight snakes! That’s right. The board of health and the Luzerne County SPCA acted on a tip this afternoon and entered a home on South Franklin Street in Wilkes-Barre. Our reporters were there. What happened, Josh?”
A reporter with a buzz cut, a big smile showing very white teeth, and a microphone clutched in his hand appeared on the screen. Some Wilkes-Barre residents jostled each other as they crowded around the reporter, waving at the camera and trying to get their faces on the news. “Lendall, around twelve thirty today our WBRE news van had just pulled up here in front of the house that you see right behind me. Neighbors, some of these folks right here, ran over. They had heard a gunshot coming from the top floor. We entered the building with our cameras rolling. When we reached the third-floor apartment, we could not believe our eyes. First we were met by a mysterious bright flash—you can see it right here on our videotape.” The room lit up like a thousa
nd sparklers had gone off. I thought I caught a glimpse of my foot though.
Josh continued his report. “We don’t know what that was, maybe a booby trap. Now take a good look right there on the couch.” The camera zoomed in. “That’s a ten-foot-long boa constrictor!” The camera panned to the wall of glass tanks. “And over here were more! Forty-eight huge snakes in all. How would you like those creepy crawlers living next door, or right above you, like the other families in this building? But don’t worry, folks. The SPCA has removed the snakes. And none of them were poisonous. They are safe in the animal shelter in Plains Township—and the people of this neighborhood are now safe too.”
The screen switched back to the anchor desk. “We’ll have more on that story tonight at eleven. Seeing that snake gives me shivers. Now Andy has a report of a lost family dog in Scranton.”
I turned to Gene and high-fived him. This time he knew how to high-five me back. I didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night—not when I sang Brady to sleep and especially not when I went into my own bed where Gene was waiting for me. I was still smiling when I woke up the next day before dawn.
My coffee was good and hot as I sipped it at my desk. It wasn’t quite seven a.m., and the whole day was clear of appointments. After I did some paperwork this morning, I planned to suggest to Gene that we take the baby and do something together. Maybe we would ride around in the car, just for fun. In the back of my mind, I had the notion it might be time to talk with Gene about us, about giving our relationship a trial run until Christmas Eve. I saw that he was feeling genuinely conflicted about returning and maybe even wavering on trying to go back to the past. It was true that Gene hadn’t said the L word yet. But last night, in his arms, I thought he had come close. Words weren’t the only way to express feelings, and our intimacy was increasingly tender and familiar. Without a doubt, I felt loved.