Conspiracy of Silence

by Martha Powers

  “I’ve got some real cold beer, if you want to come in.”

  For answer, Nate opened his car door. Jake opened Clare’s door and helped her down. She followed as he led the way into the house.

  “All I’ve got is Leinenkugel,” he said to Clare, by way of apology. “I’m partial to it because it’s a Wisconsin brew. I spent the better part of my youth drinking it. I think I’ve got a couple of light beers, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  “I’ll take one of those.”

  “Nate? Leinie Creamy Dark?”

  “You betchem.”

  While the men were getting the beer, Clare looked around. She realized that it was a duplicate layout to that of the cottage. One main room and a bedroom and bath off to the left. The similarity ended there. Aside from a sofa and a TV on the right side of the fireplace, the room was devoid of usable furniture. Book shelves on the left of the fireplace held an array of fishing equipment, an odd assortment of books, and other items, including a batch of dog bones and chew toys. The rest of the space was arranged as an artist’s studio.

  Along the right side was a slotted framework that held canvasses of all sizes. Some were painted, others blank. There was an easel beside the back window and on various tables and chairs there were palettes, jars with brushes, tubes of paint, and other miscellaneous items. Painting supplies covered every surface.

  “The cleaning lady resigned,” Jake said as he handed her a frosted glass and poured half a bottle of beer into it.

  Clare chuckled as she took a sip of the beer. The first swallow was so cold that she didn’t quite catch the taste. She sighed at the second. “It’s got a nice crisp bite.”

  “Isn’t that better than wine?” Nate asked with a teasing look.

  “When it’s cold like this, it’s really good.”

  “Thanks for taking such good care of Waldo,” Jake said, raising his glass in a salute. “I’ve never known him to take to anyone quite like he has to you.”

  “I understand how he feels,” Nate said. He winked at her and Clare caught the surprise on Jake’s face.

  “May I look at some of your paintings?” Clare asked.

  “Sure. Help yourself.”

  While Jake told Nate about a new fishing spot that he’d just discovered, Clare wandered over to the line of canvases. She could see many of the paintings without pulling them out of their slots. The bottom row held most of the larger pieces. Most of those were landscapes of the lake or deep woods. The care in the details indicated how comfortable Jake was in the outdoors and how much he loved the subject. Each picture appeared as real as a photo. It appeared as if early evening was his favorite time. The pictures glowed in the changing light. She was almost at the end of the line when she saw the painting she had seen at the art show. It was tucked back into the corner on the second tier of paintings. She reached in and pulled it out, leaning it against one of the struts.

  It was small and very intense. It showed a heavy rainstorm on the lake. At the edge of the picture, shrouded among the trees was an old boarded-up boathouse. Once again the painting held her in its grip. She could almost feel the rain beating down and breathe the heavy wet air.

  “It’s not my best,” Jake said at her shoulder.

  “Is it a real place?” she asked.

  “Just someplace on the lake.”

  “I know where that is,” Nate said, coming to join them. “That’s part of Pastor Olli’s youth camp. His property borders mine. I know the place well and can quite literally find it in the dark. It’s the old boathouse.”

  “I suppose it is,” Jake said.

  “That really brings back my youth. It was the only place I knew of that you could take a girl, other than the woods, where you could have a little privacy.” Nate took a long pull on his beer. “Many a Grand Rapids girl lost her innocence in the boathouse. A number of babies owed their very existence to that place. Some of the guys called it the ‘bedhouse.’ There were other names for it but they were even less polite.”

  “Wasn’t it kept locked?” Clare asked.

  “Sure but someone made a copy of the key. The threshold board was loose. You just pulled it out and the key was underneath. Sometimes a bunch of us guys would just sneak over with a six-pack of stolen beer. We’d sit in the dark and drink and tell lies to each other about the gals we used to bring there.”

  “I didn’t realize I was painting a national landmark,” Jake said. He picked the canvas up and slipped it back into the shelf unit. “I paint so much I forget where I’ve been. A lot of the time I see something and when I’m back home and I paint it, it turns out to look unrecognizable from the original. There’s one I’m working on that I think is going well.”

  He led them over to the easel. At the base, leaning against one of the wooden legs was a rectangular canvas about eighteen inches across. He picked it up and set it on the easel so they could see it better.

  Like most of his paintings, it was a scene of the lake. The viewpoint was from the water toward the shore. The trees and sky and much of the lakeshore had been filled in. On the left side of the foreground was an old wooden dock. Sitting on the edge of the dock, was a young girl, one leg dangling over the edge above the water and the other leg bent, her bare foot flat beside her hip. Her body was turned so that her back rested against the side of a large, hairy dog.

  “It’s Waldo,” Clare said, smiling broadly as she recognized the familiar figure.

  Leaning closer, she examined the details. Jake had caught the tensed body language of the dog as if he were on guard, watching over the girl. Her red-brown pigtails blended into the dog’s brown fur as if the two figures were connected. Although the features of the girl were only sketched in, the feeling of companionship between the pair was apparent in the lines of the bodies.

  “Oh, it’s going to be wonderful when it’s done,” Clare said.

  She could almost feel a lump in her throat as she stared at the warm rendering of the dog. Nate didn’t comment, but she could tell that he too found an emotional impact in the painting. She reached out and touched Jake lightly on the arm. He jumped slightly at the familiar contact, but didn’t move away.

  “I hope I’ll still be here when you finish the picture. I’d very much like to see it again.”

  Jake ducked his head as if embarrassed by her reaction and muttered what sounded like an affirmative response. He set the painting back on the floor, turning it so that the light from the window wouldn’t shine on the surface.

  “I hate to leave when you’ve still got beer in the fridge, but Erika will be getting back from Cass Lake shortly,” Nate said.

  Jake walked them back outside to the car.

  “Thanks again for watching out for Waldo,” he said, as he held the car door for Clare.

  “Let me know how he’s doing,” she replied. She waved as they pulled out of the driveway.

  “Want to come over for dinner?” Nate said, as they arrived back at the cottage.

  “I can’t. Ruth and I are going out to dinner and maybe to a movie. She was going to check what’s playing.”

  “Will you be all right here? You could stay over at my place where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Nice try, Hanssen.” She grinned at the look on his face. “Shame on you for suggesting such a thing with a child in the house.”

  “What if I convinced Cindy’s mom into taking Erika overnight?”

  “I thought you and Erika were going to Bemidji tomorrow.”

  Nate smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I forgot all about it.”

  “Go home and take a nice long shower,” Clare said as she opened the door of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for pizza.”

  “You’re way too old-fashioned, Clare. Why couldn’t you be a little more slutty?” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “I’ll pick you up around six tomorrow.”

  “That’ll work,” she said.

  Back in the cottage, Clare called Ruth to
coordinate their times. She washed the blood spots on the pashmina wrap and blocked it out on a towel on the kitchen counter. Quickly showering, she put on a floral print voile skirt and a white jersey, grabbing a sweater at the last minute in case it got chilly later. Leaving lights on in the cottage, she locked up and met Ruth at her car.

  They went to the Forest Lake restaurant for dinner. It took so long for Clare to fill Ruth in on everything that had happened that they decided to skip the movie all together. After dinner they splurged on dessert, splitting a chocolate brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

  “Downright decadent,” Ruth said as she licked the last of the sauce off her spoon.

  “Good choice. I think I needed a sugar high.”

  Ruth took a sip of her tea and looked across the table at Clare. “After everything that’s happened since you came to Grand Rapids, you actually look less stressed than the day you arrived. Despite all you’ve learned, are you glad you came?”

  “Yes. All my life I felt I didn’t fit in. There always seemed to be some part of me that was out of tune with the rest of the world. I feel like Rose thought my mother didn’t live up to her high moral standards. When I was a child, she was constantly telling me that I had the potential to lead a bad life.”

  “Do you think your mother was a bad person? That she brought on her own death?”

  Clare picked up the spoon beside her cup and ran it back and forth between her fingers. “It’s funny, but for years I’ve had flashes of pictures in my mind of a woman that I think is my mother. Her face isn’t clear but in my mind, she’s always smiling and sometimes I can almost hear her laughter in my head.”

  “What a lovely thought. I’d hold on to that idea that she’s your mother.” Ruth finished the last of her tea. “And Nate? Where does he fit into your life?”

  “I’m almost afraid to guess. Today is Wednesday. Eight days agoI’d never seen the man. Is it possible that someone I’ve only known for such a short time could be so important to me?”

  “Are you afraid to trust your instincts?”

  “Yes. My whole life turned out to be a conspiracy of lies. I’m not sure I know what’s real. Ever since I arrived my emotions have been in turmoil. I’m afraid that I may be reaching out to Nate because I have such a need for security and grounding.”

  “Listening to you talk about your relationship, I don’t get the idea that it’s born of desperation. He’s a good man and I think you two have an excellent chance of making each other very happy.” Ruth smiled across the table. “And it looks as if you’re making great progress with Erika. She’s a very sweet child, just a bit spoiled. I suspect your nighttime adventure has made a solid foundation to build on.”

  They talked for a while about Erika and then after they paid thebill, drove back to Heart’s Content. Clare waited until Ruth went inside before she started down the path to the cottage. She stood on the porch, looking out over the lake. The moon was high in the sky, painting a swath of white light across the surface. A loon called, the haunting sound echoing in the quiet of the night. She thought back to the question Ruth had asked. Yes, she was very happy that she’d come to Grand Rapids.

  Clare woke at seven in the morning with a throbbing headache. She lay quietly on her back, waiting for the waves of nausea to lessen. Outside the window the sky was a metallic gray blue. It had rained during the night. She remembered waking to thunder and faint flashes of lightning. Sitting up slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Pain hammered at her senses.

  Barefoot, she padded out to the kitchen. She took out a plastic bag, put a handful of ice in it and wrapped it in a dish towel. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a packet of Pain-Aid and took two tablets. Moving slowly so as not to jar her head, she went back to the bedroom. She lay on her back with the towel-wrapped ice at the base of her skull. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on her breathing instead of the pounding in her head.

  Shedozed and when she woke, the pain had subsided and she no longer felt sick to her stomach. She felt less than rested and knew it was because she had slept so poorly.

  She’d had the woods dream again.

  This time the nightmare was different. It started as it had the last time with the squeaking screen door. She was a child again, lost and running through the woods. This time she had a baby in her arms. She came to a building and ran inside. The pirate was waiting for her inside the house. She could see oars for a rowboat and a steel license plate. There was rain all around her and flickering light. Lightning illuminated the sky and then she woke at the sound of thunder.

  Just remembering the dream in the safety of the cottage, Clare’s body tensed and sweat broke out all over it. There was some important difference in the dream but she couldn’t place it. Closing her eyes, she tried to bring back the dream sequence in her mind.

  Then she saw it.

  She realized why Jake’s rainstorm picture had frightened her. In the corner of the canvas, he had painted the boathouse at Pastor Olli’s youth camp. In her dream she had been running to a building. She recognized the building for the first time. It was the boathouse.

  S

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The building in her recurring nightmare was the boathouse. She had always thought the dream was just some figment of her imagination, pieced together randomly. Now that she could see the building clearly, she was convinced that she’d actually been in the boathouse.

  Each time she had the dream, she seemed able to recall more of the details. If she could ever remember the entire dream when she was awake, she was convinced her lost memories would return. She had the nagging feeling that there was a major portion of the dream that was missing. It was as if she were looking at a jigsaw puzzle and trying to fit in pieces that belonged to another puzzle. She was on the brink of some kind of discovery if only she could find the key.

  Nate said the boathouse was along a path beside his property. Too bad he wasn’t around to go exploring with her.

  Getting out of bed, she was grateful that her headache had almost disappeared. She stood under the shower for a long time, breathing in the warm steam. She could feel her sinuses clear and the last remnants of her headache vanished. Although she had started the day in a state of depression, her gloom had been replaced by a shiver of excitement at the possibility of getting some answers. The day was chilly so she wore jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. She had just finished a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast when the phone rang.

  “Morning to you,” Nate said. “Are you missing me?”

  “I refuse to answer that loaded question. Are you in Bemidji?”

  “Yes. We stopped off to see the sights before we go to my sister-in-law’s house.”

  “What kind of sights does Bemidji have to offer?”

  “Now you’re really going to be jealous that you weren’t invited to come along. For a starter there’s an eighteen-foot-tall statue of Paul Bunyan. I’ve just taken Erika’s picture with him. I hope that, even in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of Chicago, you’ve heard of Mr. Bunyan, the greatest woodsman who ever lived.”

  Clare laughed. “You’ll find this hard to believe, Nate, but his fame has actually gotten as far as the shores of Lake Michigan. Eighteen feet, you say. That would be something to see.”

  “And I haven’t even mentioned Babe, the Blue Ox. According to the brochure I’m holding in my hands, he weighs five tons. It’s the horns that are impressive. They’re fourteen feet across,” Nate said. “I just wanted to let you know we’ll be back in plenty of time for the pizza.”

  “I’ve got some things I need to do today,” Clare said. “I hope you’re having a grand time with Erika.”

  “We have a packed program today. Susie and Greg have four children and best of all, a pool. I’ll be totally exhausted when I get back but I’m looking forward to seeing you at six.”

  “Just give me a call if you’re running late,” Clare said. “Don’t forget to take lots of pictur
es. I can’t wait to see you standing next to the Blue Ox.”

  “I almost forgot the other reason I called,” Nate said. “I looked through Dad’s files last night and I found a copy of Jimmy’s confession.”

  Clare’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed several times before she could speak. “What did it say?”

  “I’m sorry, Clare, but it definitely says he shot Lily. I know you were hoping for some vague language but he was very clear in his statement.” He paused but she made no comment. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” She sighed. “It was wishful thinking on my part. No one wants to have to admit their father killed their mother. It’s not unexpected news. Even so, I would like to see the confession sometime. Did you find anything else of interest in the box?”

  “I just had time to look through it for the confession. You could come back to the house after dinner and go through it with me.”

  “Sounds like the old etchings ploy.”

  Nate laughed. “A guy’s got to do what he can. Besides, after a day with five children, I’ll be looking for some adult entertainment. Stay out of trouble today and I’ll see you later.”

  “Drive carefully,” Clare said.

  Nate disconnected, but, not wanting to give up the tenuous contact with him, she held the receiver in her hand for a moment longer. Finally she sighed and hung up the phone. After cleaning up the cottage, she got into the car and drove around the lake to the Egner’s place.

  She stopped in front of the house and, even before she got out, she could tell that no one was home. She rang the bell several times but no one answered. Back in the car, she debated driving to Olli’s church to see if he or Bianca was there. As she drove out to the main highway, she passed another drive that had a sign indicating the entrance to the youth camp. She turned in and headed down the winding hill toward the lake.

  She parked in the gravel parking lot, next to a small log building. Leaving her purse inside, she locked the car and put the keys in the pocket of her jeans. She walked around the log house, guessing it was the office when the camp was in session. There were shutters on the windows and the door was locked with a padlock. On the side wall of the office was a chart that showed the layout of the camp.