He and Callie gently examined and rewashed Kitty’s wounds, applying lavender and helichrysum to her worst cuts and bruises. I knew about lavender’s healing properties, and also remembered that helichrysum acted like a topical analgesic. Sort of like aspirin for the skin. Watching them work, I tried to memorize their regime. When they were done, they applied peppermint over all the other oils, except in the deepest cuts because of its intensity and concentration.
Sky spoke while the aroma of mint mingled with all the others in a very pleasing fashion. “Applying peppermint over the other oils helps seal them in. It’s why we often finish with this one when we’re done.”
My favorite use for peppermint was on my temples, forehead, and back of my neck for headaches. My mother used it for her sciatica and bursitis, and I actually dropped some on the back of my hands and licked it when nobody was watching for fresh breath. Those Listerine strips had nothing on peppermint. One drop was like forty bags of peppermint tea, it was so highly concentrated.
When they were done, with Kitty safely tucked in bed and already softly snoring, we gathered on the back porch.
Sky stretched and yawned. “I was up at the crack of dawn.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, we’re going to have to do something innovative to target Kitty’s memories. Roberta’s calling me in the morning so we can talk about it. We’ll need everything in our arsenal: crystals, oils, and maybe some traditional healing ceremonies from her tribe.” He turned to Quinn. “I’ll need your help with that, Quinn.”
Callie hugged me, whispering in my ear. “Don’t worry, Marcie. We’ll help her. I trust in Sky and his oils.”
I looked from sister to brother and back again. “Me, too, Velvet.” Although last year we’d discovered that Callie really was Sky’s niece, that her “sister” Willow had actually been her mother, I couldn’t stop thinking of Callie and Sky as siblings, and they apparently weren’t about to stop calling each other sister and brother.
With hugs all around, we parted. Quinn slipped his arm around my waist while we watched them drive off in Callie’s new yellow Jeep. With a sigh, I followed him into the house again. We needed sleep—lots of sleep. Ignoring the urge to wrap my legs around my man and lose myself in the physical splendor of our marriage, I made us some hot milk, Quinn covered Ruby’s cage, and we turned off the lights. I sprinkled some Peace and Calming blend on our pillows, and the sweet smell of tangerine greeted me when I lay down. We slept the sleep of the innocent, and woke with the first rays of dawn.
***
“Marcella! Wake up!”
I shrugged off my husband’s hands and pulled the blankets up to my chin. “Five more minutes?
“Honey, get up! Kitty’s gone.”
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up fast and tried to focus. “What? Huh? She’s gone?”
“Yes.” He dragged me toward the edge of the bed. “Help me find her.”
“What? Did someone take her?” I finally saw the pain and worry in his eyes.
“I don’t know. Her blankets are on the floor, like maybe someone pulled her off the bed.”
The sound of his ragged voice scared me awake. I tried to remain calm. “What if she’s just messy?” I said.
He frowned. “What if she’s not?”
I scrambled into jeans and a tee shirt. The thermometer on the tall pine tree outside the kitchen read fifty-eight degrees, surprisingly mild for this time of year. I unlocked the door and poked my head outside. After letting Dak do his business, I shut him back inside. If there were madmen out there, I didn’t want him getting hurt. Or shot. Or anything like that.
I followed Quinn down to the river’s edge, hanging onto shrubs and saplings to make it down the steep slope.
His eyes raked the shore, but there was no sign of Kitty to the north, or looking south to the bend in the river. He cupped his hands over his mouth and called her name, then turned back to me. “Our doors were locked last night. But the front door is unlocked now.”
“If someone took her, then how did they get in?” I asked, my heart pounding out a staccato rhythm under my ribs. “Pick the lock?”
His voice grew low and serious. “I don’t know.”
“How could they find us here? No one back home knows about this trip except my mother, and possibly Fran, if Thelma broke her promise.”
Quinn scanned the woods on the island to the north. “I don’t know. But let’s cover the grounds around the cabin first.”
We scrambled back up the hill. I headed for the southern edge of the property and Quinn went north. I had a strange feeling of déjà vu. No, it wasn’t a feeling of déjà vu, it was the actual thing. A year ago we’d searched these very woods for my mother. We’d combed the tall pines near the cabin, searched the shores of the Sacandaga, and come up empty-handed until Ruby threw us a clue.
I walked the ledge overlooking the river until I reached our property line. If we didn’t find her on our seven acres, we’d have to expand the search. I’d call Callie, Sky, and Roberta and have them help. And maybe call in favors from Copper, who now worked at the local Hamilton County enforcement offices.
I scouted along the ridge of the Sacandaga, following a narrow trail first made by deer and now flattened and made wider by Quinn and me. “Kitty!” I yelled as loud as I could, but the rushing sound of the river eclipsed my words, plucking them from the air and dissipating them to the hills beyond.
Awful thoughts raced through my head. Had someone taken her? Was she dead in the woods, shot or strangled and left to die? Would I come across her cold body at the next river’s bend?
Why did they want her? And why were there supposedly so many people chasing her? Who was the man who arranged the hunt? And what kind of powers did he hold over others in the tribe? Why would they risk their own lives to kill a young woman?
Were they trying to protect something? Someone? Was their livelihood threatened?
“Kitty!” I cried.
I trudged further along the path, looking for traces of the white nightgown I’d dressed her in last night. I prayed I wouldn’t see it in the distance on the ground. Please, God. Please keep her safe.
The leaves of the few deciduous trees that grew within our pine forest had turned color. Here and there I spied patches of red maple and brilliant yellow birch leaves. In the distance, a massive copper beech shimmered in the sunlight, its leaves rustling in the slight breeze.
The sun broke over the horizon, sluicing through the woods with warmth. If my heart hadn’t been in my throat for fear of losing Kitty, I would have stopped and let it kiss my brow. It felt warmer out now, at least twenty degrees warmer than we usually expect in October in the Adirondack early mornings.
“Kitty!”
I continued on, stumbling over tree roots and kicking up pine needles along the path. The sound of a lone hawk pierced the air; strident, its cry squeezed at my heart and made me take notice.
I looked up and saw the beautiful bird downriver and to the west, circling in wide, lazy arcs over the river. Hurrying now—for what reason I couldn’t fathom—I broke over the top of the hill and looked down at our swimming area we affectionately called the “Jacuzzi.” Dammed with smooth round rocks from the riverbed, it provided a four-foot deep whirlpool where we swam in the summer.
There on the side railing, hung my nightgown. White and soft, it fluttered in the slight breeze.
My gaze went further, and I smiled. I’d found her.
Chapter Eleven
Kitty was alive.
She stood in two feet of water, facing away from me. The sun sparkled on her bronze skin, and water trickled through her fingers as she splashed it over her bare shoulders, breasts, and legs.
She must have ducked under the surface earlier, because her hair glistened wet and dark, and in spite of the fact that the water must be cold, she seemed to be enjoying herself.
I didn’t move, but watched, transfixed, as this young goddess worshipped the sun and river in a way I f
igured was stamped into her DNA from generations past.
To my surprise, a soft keening sound came from her lips. The language was unfamiliar, but the meaning seemed to gel with my own spirit and made sense to me. I was certain I knew what she was singing about.
Thank you Great Spirit, for this beautiful morning. Thank you for the water that swirls and cleanses me of blood born from evil. Thank you for the bright sun that warms my skin and dries my tears, for the great trees that shelter the birds and animals.
So, she can sing.
She can speak, if she can sing. Right?
Hope surged within me.
From across the river, a great blue heron flew close to Kitty and settled on a rock beside her. She turned to it, hand outstretched. For a brief moment, it stretched its beak toward her and seemed to lock eyes with her. Time stopped.
I’d been holding my breath, and when I let it out, the bird flapped his great wings and flew downstream. I moved slowly down the hillock to the water’s edge. Kitty had draped our fleece blanket over a metal chair near the table. I picked it up and started down the wooden steps, softly calling Kitty’s name.
She turned to me as if she’d known I was there, completely relaxed with a soft smile on her lips. Slowly, she waded toward me, her proud young body healthy and strong.
I noticed that she walked unafraid, almost princess-like, through the amber currents that swirled around her calves.
With a rush of affection, I beamed at her. “Good morning, Kitty.”
She was family, my husband’s blood. She belonged with us. And I’d do everything in my power to protect her.
***
The sound of Quinn’s shout woke me from my calm. I quickly helped Kitty dry off and put the nightgown on, then called upstream. “Quinn! I found her. We’re down at the Jacuzzi.”
He scrambled down the hill toward us. “Oh my God, Kitty. What were you doing down here?” He pulled her to him, crushing her in an embrace. She buried her face against his chest, looking up at him with a hint of a smile.
“She was bathing, dear.” I smoothed Kitty’s hair and pulled it back from her shoulders. “Remember? She never got to clean up with all that happened yesterday.”
He looked at the damp blanket I held in my hands, down the steps to the Jacuzzi, and back at Kitty. “Oh.”
I laughed. “I think she prefers the river to the shower in the house.”
I saw the emotions flitting behind his eyes. The fear dissolved quickly, followed by a flash of ragged relief, followed yet again by amusement. “Oh, Kitty. You almost gave me a heart attack, girl.”
I touched his arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s get her into some clean clothes. She’ll probably swim in my size tens, but we can roll up the pants and sleeves.”
We made our way back to the cabin against the rushing sounds of the Sacandaga. It almost lulled me into a sense of security, thinking all was good and right with the world, and nothing could harm us now. The spirit of the river was strong and soothing, and I remembered, once again, why I felt so at home on its shores.
Once inside, we fed Ruby and Dak, made a hearty breakfast of oatmeal with nuts, raisins, brown sugar, and cream, and I dressed Kitty’s wounds once again, shooing Quinn outside to take Dak for a walk.
I followed the same procedure Sky had used the night before, and noticed that the combination of the river water’s cleansing abilities and our oils’ healing powers had actually started to pull the wounds together. Her forehead lump was much less pronounced. Sky had left a small sample vial of Sacred Frankincense behind, and I dabbed it on her forehead, gently stroking it across the swelling. Sky said something about frankincense also being the oil for “bumps and lumps,” and that it had been used to reduce knots and masses with great success.
“There you go, honey. Now let’s comb your hair.”
I ran my big comb through her shiny hair, gently removing the tangles. When we were done, I wove it into two loose braids, securing them both with hair ties. “You look so pretty.”
I led her to the bathroom, broke open a fresh toothbrush from the pack I kept under the sink, and squirted Thieves toothpaste onto it. “Here you go. Brush those teeth ‘til they shine.”
She accepted it with a sweet smile, and I left her to brush, wondering what kind of mother I would have been, had God graced me with the ability to have children. Would I have been overbearing? Too controlling? Would I have been warm and loving and baked cookies for my son or daughter when they got off the school bus? Would I have taken them on walks around the lake or taken them fishing on the boat? Would I have turned into a better cook than I was now, to please the palates of my little ones?
With a stab of sadness, I went into the bedroom to find something for Kitty to wear. Her old clothes still lay bunched up in a garbage bag in the back of the van. We’d have to get to a Laundromat to wash them.
Kitty came back smelling of cloves and mint.
“All set?”
She nodded.
I pointed to the jeans and plaid flannel shirt. “Do you think you could manage getting into these?” I tossed a pair of clean cotton underpants onto the bed with some white socks. “I know it’s not ideal. We’ll buy you your own clothes when we get to a store later today.”
She picked up the clothes with apparent gratitude, and I backed out of the door, giving her some privacy.
I still felt a little guilty for watching her bathe in the river. But it hadn’t been some kind of ugly voyeurism or anything like that. It had been like catching a doe at the river’s edge, watching her drink from the cool water, and hoping she didn’t startle and run away. Kitty seemed so in tune with nature; it was as if she were an extension of the river, of the woods, of the smooth, round stones that lay beneath her feet.
I shrugged and smiled. My imagination was running away with me.
Who did I think she was? Pocahontas?
I started washing the dishes in the kitchen, and laughed. Maybe Kitty was Pocahontas reincarnated.
Chapter Twelve
Kitty had just emerged from the bedroom in my clothes when Quinn returned with Dak. He closed the door and stared at his cousin.
She’d borrowed my belt off the hook on the wall and had cinched the pants around her waist. She was barely five feet and I stood at five nine, so everything was too long. She looked like a little girl playing dress up in her mommy’s clothes.
“What are you, a size one? These are huge on you!” I laughed, rolling up her pant legs. “But they’ll have to do for now.”
The phone trilled in the corner, and I reached for it. “Hello?”
“Marcie! It’s Callie. Can you come over? Copper wants to hear all about Kitty. She thinks maybe she can help.”
I covered the mouthpiece and filled Quinn in on the request. He nodded as if he thought it was a good idea.
“Okay, honey. We’ll head up in about a half hour.” I looked at Kitty again. “By the way, could we use your laundry room? My clothes are huge on Kitty, and hers are a wreck from that rainstorm.”
Callie’s laugh warmed my heart. Musical and lyrical, it never failed to lift my spirits. “Of course, silly. And maybe she’d like to borrow some of my clothes. I’m closer to her height.”
“Oh, good idea! Thanks.”
We chatted for a little while, and then hung up. Within fifteen minutes, we had locked up the cabin and headed for Speculator.
When we reached the town of Wells, we passed a yellow painted church on our left. I’d always admired it. “Honey? Can we go to church services there some day?”
Quinn drove slowly past the church, looking sideways at the quaint building. “It’s a Catholic church, hon. I don’t know if they’d let us in the door, being Methodists and all.”
I chuckled. “But it’s so pretty. I want to see inside.”
We passed a Wesleyan church and finally a pristine white Methodist church with a red steel roof. Both were classically built. I decided that maybe Quinn was right, and we should try the
Methodist church next Sunday.
The drive to Speculator was always peaceful, and only once in a while did we see another car. We passed Robin’s gas station, the post office, and crossed the new bridge over the Algonquin Lake, which shone calm and placid in the morning light, reflecting the shapes of the great mountains beyond. A few canoeists paddled in the distance, and I envied them the quiet serenity of their morning.
The last ten minutes of the drive took us through forested mountains, forever flanked by the silver curving ribbon of the Sacandaga. We drove in silence, drinking in the majesty of the landscape around us.
When Lake Pleasant came into view on our left, we started to look for Callie’s house. A cute A-frame, it was nestled back from the road on the right side, just across the road from the lake. Behind it, a stream and swampy area glistened through reeds. I wondered if they would have flooding issues in the future, but the house was set up high on the lot and looked well graded.
Orange and maroon mums bloomed on either side of the front steps and two pumpkins occupied the corners. A filmy ghost flew overhead, attached to the little roof over the stoop.
Copper’s squad car was parked behind Callie’s yellow Jeep. Quinn pulled up to the left side of the driveway.
Before we could get out, Beau bounded down the front steps and jumped up on Quinn’s door with his big paws. Callie—wearing a burgundy corduroy dress that reached down to her boots—trotted down the steps after him.
“Beau! Let them get out of the van, for Heaven’s sakes.”
We made it inside, with both dogs scrambling and playing around our legs. I made a beeline to the laundry room with the somewhat musty-smelling bag of clothes, and dumped them into the washer while everyone greeted each other. I started it up, joining the group in the kitchen, where Copper stood over the stove stirring a pot.
“What’re you making, Copper?” I kissed her cheek and peeked in the pot. “Ooo. Nice. Lentil soup?”
She nodded and answered in her rich, smooth voice. “It’s my father’s recipe. Best in all of Atlanta.”
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 54