by Lin Stepp
Mary Beth’s breath caught. “Like the jewelry the Youngblood and Crowe women make?”
“Exactly.” He nodded. “Because I saw that, I took a walk toward their house. As I followed the path, I saw more small footprints, like the ones on the ridge. And a clear print or two every so often. Then I found a scrap of white cloth stained with red on a bush.”
Ela gasped.
“But why would any of that family play at being a ghost?” Neal voiced the question in everyone’s mind now.
“I wondered the same.” Manu scratched his head. “So I decided to pay a little social visit. Started tossing out a few comments—about Kristen, how she fell, what she heard, about what I found at the cave—like I was wondering out loud about it all. When I mentioned finding Silas Green’s body, young Izabelle started weeping. Then the boys broke.”
“Those children were involved in this?” Lydia put a hand to her mouth in shock. “Surely that’s not possible.”
Manu exhaled slowly. “Nalin stood up tall and straight like a man to explain, walked over to stand protectively by his sister. He said he and Davy heard Izabelle screaming—a muffled scream—while they played near Indian Creek. She’d gone to pick berries on Drop Off Ridge nearby, on their property side of the creek. They ran to find Silas Green on top of the girl, his pants dropped and half her clothing stripped off. It seemed evident what he planned. Nalin picked up a big rock and hit him on the back of the head. It saved Izabelle, but it killed Silas.”
“Oh my heavens!” Ela exclaimed. “Those poor children.”
“When they realized Silas lay dead, rather than only knocked out, the children got scared and dragged Silas across the creek onto our property to the cave under the ridge. They pulled him inside and covered him with tree limbs and debris. Nalin said they hoped anyone who found him later would think he’d fallen.”
“So why the ghost act?” Neal asked.
“The boys feared someone might find Silas too soon, be able to tell he didn’t fall.” He shook his head. “Nalin came up with the ghost idea to scare people away from the area. To give Silas time to deteriorate, and to obliterate any evidence.”
John felt stunned. “So, Nalin Crowe was the ghost?”
“He found the sheet, added blood for more authenticity. Then he and Davy spent their play days around the Drop Off area, watching for anyone who might come too close to the ridge or cave. At that point Davy kept an eye out while Nalin got into his costume, stashed in a sack in an old tree. Then Nalin waved his arms and moaned from the shadows.”
“I can hardly believe this.” Ela crossed her arms. “I admit to sympathy for Izabelle’s sake, but those Crowe boys went too far with the ghost idea. Several people claimed the ghost waved a bloody knife—certainly extreme—and I think scaring small children for any reason is simply cruel.”
“I saw the knife when I saw the ghost.” Lydia’s brows drew together. “I find it hard to hold sympathy for those boys, considering all the people they terrified—and with Kristen injured, too.”
Manu leaned over to pet Cullie’s head. The collie had come to sidle up against him. “The boys did wrong,” he continued. “They know that and they felt horrified when Kristen fell over the ledge. Both were really frightened when that happened. They got careless running home after that and didn’t brush out their tracks as usual.” He scratched the collie’s neck. “Nalin said they only meant to scare the girls a little. They never thought Kristen would fall.”
John flexed his fingers. “Does the sheriff know?”
“Alo called him, asked him to come. He told the sheriff they had information about the ghost they wanted to share.” Manu reached for a side dish of pie. “I got on the phone and encouraged the sheriff to come immediately.”
“Merciful day.” Ela lifted her eyes to John’s. “Whatever will happen to those boys? And to Izabelle and the family?”
“I don’t know.” John scratched his chin. “The boys are minors. They acted to save their sister from rape. Silas’s death wasn’t intentional. However, the boys and Izabelle covered it up. And the boys’ pranks at playing ghost caused frights and an injury. I’m sure there will be charges.”
“How old is Izabelle?” Lydia asked.
Manu’s eyes narrowed. “She just turned thirteen.”
“Why, she is only a child!” Lydia’s eyes widened. “What sort of man would attack a child that way?”
John reached a hand toward her in comfort. “That fact will weigh heavily in this situation, Lydia. I doubt the attorney general will indict, given the circumstances.” He turned to Manu. “What did the sheriff say?”
“He gave Izabelle and the boys the what for. Let them know all the wrongful and illegal choices they made—voluntary manslaughter, even if accidental, and concealment afterward.” He forked into the cherry pie. “The sheriff explained to the family, as John suggested, that the attorney general probably won’t indict. He didn’t take the children into custody, either, but he left them in the custody of their parents. He also cautioned them to stay in the area until this is resolved.”
Mary Beth shivered. “Who told Loretha about Silas?”
“Alo and the sheriff and I went to tell her.” He hesitated. “She showed little sorrow. She offered more sympathy and concern for Alo and for what Silas tried to do to Izabelle. She told Alo not to worry that she’d ask him to move. She said he could stay on the property renting as long as he liked.”
While they sat there stunned, Manu added more. “Loretha told the sheriff she’d testify in the Crowe children’s defense if asked. She said her husband went after his own girls in times past and that she regretted not doing more then. She feared his temper.”
“Mercy.” Lydia put a hand to her heart.
“I’m glad my boys didn’t hear all of that story.” Mary Beth reached over to take Lydia’s hand in hers.
Manu frowned. “I wouldn’t have told it in front of the boys. But they’ll hear of this from others with less discretion. You’ll need to talk to them tonight before the gossip starts. Little pitchers have big ears.”
“I dread that.” Mary Beth shook her head.
“I’ll talk to them with you,” Neal offered. “Children can bear truth better than you think.”
“Thank you for that offer.” Mary Beth turned grateful eyes to Neal. “They’re fond of you. I think they’d like it if you helped to tell them about this.”
He looked at his watch. “How about now, Bee? It’s time for Bucky and Billy Ray to come in and settle down for the night anyway. I’ll help you with their baths, and then we’ll talk to them together.”
As they rounded up the boys, Manu helped Ela gather dishes and glasses to take to the kitchen. Left alone for a moment with Lydia, John reached a hand across to take hers. She looked white with shock. “I’ll drive you to pick up your car and then follow you home after if you’re ready.”
“Yes, I’m ready.” She stood up. “Let me get my purse from inside and tell everyone good night.”
Seeing her glance toward the Upper farm, where the ghost sightings took place, he added, “Maybe I’ll sit with you for a time after we get back. This has been a hard day. You might like some company.”
“I might.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for suggesting it.”
As Mary Beth headed toward the house with the boys, John called out to her, “I’m going to drive Lydia to pick up her car and then follow her home and stay with her for a while.”
Mary Beth sent him a secret smile as the boys skipped toward the house with Neal. “It’s nice for a woman to have a man around sometimes. I think Mother would like that.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t stay out too late, Dad.”
He laughed as he headed toward the driveway for the truck.
CHAPTER 19
“Isn’t it a relief to have that ghost issue finally resolved?” Rebecca asked two days later. She and Lydia sat by the window eating a late breakfast at Joey’s Pancake House on the main highway in Maggie Valley.
“Yes, and Kristen is home from the hospital and doing well, from what I hear.” Lydia stopped to cut a bite out of a stack of whole-wheat pancakes, smothered in cinnamon apples—one of Joey’s house specialties. Rebecca loved Joey’s, and always suggested they meet here for breakfast.
“I’m glad you could come this morning, Lydia. Lunch is harder for me to arrange. I get tied up in the office or in property showings.” Rebecca reached across the table for syrup to pour over a mountain of blueberry pancakes. Both women had ordered pancakes with ham and cheese omelets today.
“You know I’m happy to get together whenever you can plan it for breakfast or lunch.” Lydia dropped a tea bag into a cup of hot water, wishing for her home-steeped Earl Grey. “I won’t have the luxury of all this time come fall when my work at Western begins.”
Rebecca wiggled an eyebrow. “Getting spoiled?”
“A little,” Lydia admitted.
“Will you give up your job when you and John get back together?”
“It’s if we get back together, not when.” Lydia frowned, emphasizing the word ‘if’. “And the answer is no, Rebecca. I love my job. There are already days when I feel restless, miss working with the students, and yearn for the daily hum of the career services office.”
“I’m like that about my real estate work, too.” Rebecca stirred cream into her hot coffee. “I grumble about the workload, but I love it.” Changing the subject she asked, “What are you doing today after we finish breakfast?”
“Shopping.” Lydia grinned. “I need to buy some gifts—a present for Martha’s birthday next week and one for Ozetta Sheppard’s birthday the day after tomorrow. Ozetta sends me so many fresh vegetables and home-baked treats that I want to give her something nice to say thank you.”
“Gracious, that woman bakes the best homemade breads and sweets. I’ve sampled some at your house. Isn’t she the one who collects salt and pepper shakers and has a whole china cabinet full of them in the kitchen?”
“Yes, and that’s a great gift idea.”
Rebecca wrinkled her nose. “To be frank, a lot of those shaker sets she has are unbelievably tacky—Kewpie dolls, dancing pigs, smiling vegetables.”
Lydia laughed. “It’s what she likes. As Ozetta explained, she likes ‘pretties,’ having grown up poor with only the necessities.”
“Isn’t that a funny societal change?” Rebecca forked up a bite of her omelet. “The older generation loves and cherishes bric-a-brac and clutter while the new generation goes for a stark, uncluttered look.” She made a face. “I tell my older clients to hide or pack up everything if they want their houses to sell.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I despise housing fads and people flocking after whatever is ‘in’ like a bunch of lemmings, whether they like the current fads and fashion or not.”
“Most people don’t possess the confidence to decorate simply according to their personal likes and dislikes. They only feel approved when they conform. People are like that about clothes, too—and everything else, you know. Always trying to keep up with the Joneses.”
“Wasn’t it Galbraith who said following convention protects people from the painful job of thinking?” Lydia flashed Rebecca an arch smile.
“Oh, that’s good.” Rebecca’s eyes brightened. “I know a better one—one dog barks at something and a hundred bark at the bark.”
Lydia punched at her. “You always think of something funny.”
“Life’s too short for overanalyzing.” She waved a hand. “I say grab your happiness while you can and laugh often.”
“I missed you in Atlanta, Becca.” Lydia sent her a fond look.
“Back at you, kiddo. I’m glad you’re home again. So is Tolley.” She raised a brow. “And so is John. How is that going?”
“Good.” Lydia hesitated. “But now I’m beginning to feel I’ll disrupt the flow of Main House if John and I get back together. Ela and Mary Beth handle things so efficiently. A pattern and routine is already established.”
“That’s silly. I haven’t noticed anything awkward when you’re in the mix.” She pushed back her plate. “Are you sure it’s not you—reluctant to give up your single life and independence?”
“Maybe. I’ve lived on my own a long time now, Rebecca, except for my boys mixed into my life. Maybe the hesitation is mine.”
Rebecca looked at her watch. “You know I hate to scoot, darling, but I need to meet a client at the office in ten minutes.”
“You should have said so before.” Lydia gathered up her purse and searched for the breakfast ticket on the table.
“My office is only down the road. Besides, I love these times when we share together, and I want every minute I can squeeze in.”
They paid their tickets, hugged and blew air-kisses, and then Lydia set out to explore the shops in Maggie Valley to look for gifts. At the rustic and touristy Maggie Mountaineer Crafts shop she found the perfect collectible glass slipper she needed for Martha—Fenton Glass in a rich indigo blue. Martha had a lovely collection of china and glass shoes in a small case in her bedroom. Lydia also picked up a handmade rag doll to take to Kristen when she next visited, and she sampled the shop’s homemade key lime fudge, a summertime specialty.
“Ummm.” She licked her lips, leaning over the case. “I’ll need a small box of that to take with me, too, and mix in some of that white chocolate fudge with it.”
Plopping her packages into the car, she headed down the highway to the Market Square, a mini-mall in the heart of Maggie Valley across from the festival grounds. A row of blue-painted stores, with a covered boardwalk running in front of the shops, made the little mall distinctive. Lydia slipped into Aunt Bee’s Blessing Shop for greeting cards, stopped by the Garden Deck Accessories to buy a wind chime, and ended with a visit to the Tarnished Swan to look for a salt and pepper shaker set for Ozetta.
“Can I help you?” asked the clerk.
“Maybe. I’m looking for a salt and pepper set for Ozetta Sheppard for her birthday.”
“Oh, Ozetta has quite a collection.” The older woman led her toward the back of the store, squatting to examine the salt and pepper sets on the shelf. “Here’s my favorite.” She lifted a black-and-white Dominicker chicken set from between a shaker set of green tractors and another of colorful cowboy boots.
Lydia studied them with a grin.
“Ozetta has chickens like this behind the barn at her farm. I think she’ll love these.” The clerk smiled as she stood back up. “I’m Mildred Hodge, by the way. I’ve known Ozetta since we played together as girls in the valley.” She studied Lydia. “Aren’t you John Cunningham’s wife come home from Atlanta?”
“Yes, I am.” Lydia reminded herself that a small town held no secrets.
“Well, everyone I’ve talked to is glad you’re back.” Mildred shifted the china shakers in her hand. “You want this set or do you want to look some more?”
“No, those will be fine. Thank you for your help.”
Mildred nodded. “I can gift wrap them if you’d like.” She reached under the cabinet to pull out a box. “I’ll do it up nice, too, since it’s for Ozetta.”
“Thank you.” Lydia followed Mildred to the register to pay for the gift, browsing the shelves near the register while she wrapped.
Down the road a short time later, Lydia turned off at the Green Thumb Nursery to look around. The cute brown building sported wide windows, trimmed in green, with a variety of plants inside and out. Lydia found two pots of bright, carefree marigolds she thought would look great on the front porch of Hill House.
“These are called Golden Gates,” the sales clerk told her. “They’ll bloom until first frost and give you a lot of happy yellow color on your deck or porch.”
She smiled at him. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“These are healthy plants, too, but you keep a watch for spider mites in this hot weather.” He glanced out the front window as he rang up the sale. “Want me to put these in the ba
ckseat of your car for you?”
“Yes, thank you. The back door’s open. You can sit them on the floorboard.” She glanced out into the yard. “I want to look around a little more before I leave, if it’s all right.”
“Go right ahead.” He walked out the door with the plants, Lydia following. She turned to wander through the yard, wanting to check out the birdbaths and yard art. Her phone rang before she could walk far. Lydia pulled out her cell phone to answer. “Hello?”
Mary Beth’s voice jumped onto the line, anxious. “Mom? Do you have the boys with you?”
“No. I haven’t seen them all day. I met Rebecca for breakfast at Joey’s. Is anything wrong?”
“Oh, probably not.” She sighed. “Ela left them playing in the backyard while she went in to start lunch. Later when she went to look for them, she couldn’t find them anywhere. She called and called but they didn’t answer.” Mary Beth paused. “Usually they come running when she calls.”
“Have you checked around the farm?” Lydia asked. “Maybe they went up to Ridge House to see Kristen or over to watch Clyde work on a car. They love to do that.”
“I’ve called everywhere. No one’s seen them. That’s why I called you. I hoped maybe they’d gone on an errand with you—maybe told you they got permission when they really never asked.”
“Are you still at work?” Lydia walked toward her car now, waving a good-bye to the clerk in the store.
“No. Vera is there. I called her to come cover the store when Ela and Manu couldn’t find the boys.” Lydia heard the unease in her voice. “I hate it when they go off like this and worry everyone.”
“I know.” Lydia offered soothing words. “I’m at the Green Thumb Nursery down on the highway. It won’t take me long to get to the farm. I’ll come help you look. Children often start to play and then wander off and forget others will worry. We’ll find them.”
However, by dinner six hours later they had not found the boys. John, Sam, Charlie, and Neal joined the search in the afternoon, but as darkness fell, anxiety rose, and John called the sheriff’s office.