by Marta Perry
That was it, in as few words as possible. At least the woman hadn’t interrupted her. Or thrown them out.
“Pack of nonsense,” Elizabeth muttered. “My granddaughter died close to thirty years ago. You...you...” She sputtered to a stop.
“I know.” Amanda found her throat getting tight and didn’t know why. After all, sad as Melanie’s story had been, Amanda had no sense of relationship to her. How could she?
“Melanie died in April, 1989,” Trey said, taking over smoothly. “Amanda was born in February of that same year.” He opened the leather folder he carried and took something out—the photocopies of the painting and the inscription. He took them to Elizabeth. “Amanda’s adoptive mother, Juliet Curtiss, was a successful artist who never, so far as I can tell, painted realistic landscapes. Except for this one.”
He darted a glance toward Amanda, who nodded.
“She came here one summer and painted this view of Echo Falls...”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Donald said. “The falls is a well-known beauty spot. Anyone might paint it.”
“Not anyone would put this inscription on the painting.” He showed Elizabeth the second photocopy. “‘In memoriam. M.’ And the date of your granddaughter’s death.”
Wisely, he didn’t try to push any further. He simply let her look at the images. Donald Shay moved behind his mother-in-law, looking over her shoulder with a frown, as if at something distasteful.
Amanda studied the wrinkled face and the hooded eyes. Impossible to tell what the woman was thinking. Was she reacting at all to seeing this memorial to a child she must have loved?
After a long moment, the photocopies fluttered from her hands to the Oriental carpet.
“I don’t believe it,” the elderly voice rasped. “That could mean anything. It could be a fake.” But her heavily veined hands trembled until she pressed them on her lap.
“It’s not a fake,” Amanda said. She’d never had anyone doubt her integrity this way, and she didn’t like it. “That painting has hung in my mother’s study from the time she painted it, the summer I was ten. It was important to her.”
“There’s a simple way of proving Amanda’s lineage, one way or the other,” Trey said. “A DNA test is simple, noninvasive, and will give us the results fairly quickly. It should tell us whether or not Amanda is related to you.”
Donald Shay put his hand on his mother-in-law’s shoulder in a way meant to suggest protection, but she shook it off with an irritable movement.
“This is upsetting Mrs. Winthrop to no good purpose,” he said. “I don’t know what this young woman expects to gain...”
“I’m not so old I can’t speak for myself,” Elizabeth snapped. “My granddaughter is dead. I won’t relive the past for your satisfaction, Ms. Curtiss. Whatever you want to prove, you’ll have to do it without our help. Good day.”
Trey gave Amanda a warning glance, but it wasn’t needed. She had no intention of pleading with the woman. He stooped and picked up the photocopies, and she saw Elizabeth’s gaze following them as he put them back in his folder.
Then he nodded to Amanda, and she stood. “If you decide you’d like any further information, you know where to find me.” He seemed to divide the words between Elizabeth and her son-in-law. “We’ll say goodbye.”
No one answered them, but the housekeeper, after one anxious look at her employer, showed them to the door. As they stepped out into the autumn sunshine, Amanda turned to her impulsively.
“I hope we didn’t upset her too much.”
The woman’s stern face seemed to crack into a smile. “Bless you, it takes more than a little controversy to upset Elizabeth Winthrop. She’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Helen.” Trey’s manner suggested that this was yet another person he’d known most of his life. “Don’t let her take it out on you.”
“I won’t,” she said, patting his arm. She stepped back, and the heavy door closed.
They walked together to the car. “Let me guess. Someone else who babysat you as a child?”
He grinned, holding the door while she slid into the seat. “Helen Lindstrom was my Sunday-school teacher when I was eight.” He stood for a moment looking down at her, his smile fading. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” That was as honest as she could be. “I keep reminding myself that this doesn’t matter to me except that it’s a step toward knowing who I am and learning whether Juliet adopted me. But I had an odd feeling while I was in there. Not kinship, exactly. More like...familiarity. That’s as close as I can come. And, of course, it doesn’t prove a thing.”
That was the point, she thought as Trey rounded the car to the driver’s side. This encounter hadn’t proved anything one way or the other. A wave of depression slid over her without warning. Maybe that was going to be the story of this entire effort. Nothing proved, ever.
* * *
BY EVENING, AMANDA felt the need to talk to someone totally removed from Echo Falls and all its problems. A call to Boston and her friend Kara proved to be exactly what she needed. It seemed pointless to keep the story from Kara at this point, since the entire population of Echo Falls seemed to know her business, so she told her the whole story.
Kara listened with deep attention, as she always did. She had the unique gift of sharing your trouble without trying to top it with her own stories or tell you how simple it would be to solve if only you’d follow her advice.
“Wow,” she said when Amanda ran out of words. “This sounds like the plot of a thriller. You know, the kind where the heroine meets a handsome guy who might or might not be the killer.”
“Except that there’s no murder,” Amanda reminded her.
“There is a handsome guy, though, right? I could tell by your voice when you talked about him. Now, don’t disappoint me by saying that attorney is married with six kids.”
“No kids. And very attractive. In fact...”
“I knew it,” she said triumphantly. “See, I told you your luck was going to change. Not every guy is like that idiot who dumped you.”
“It’s too soon to think about that,” she said quickly. “Besides, I’m not going to be hanging around Echo Falls forever. I just need to find something that will help me find my adoption records. If I knew for sure that Melanie Winthrop was my birth mother, at least I’d have a lead. And if I can find out where they sent her to have her baby, that would really help.”
Kara hesitated. “This means a lot to you.”
“Wouldn’t it to you? If I can’t prove who I am, everything—my mother’s work, the house I grew up in, maybe even her gifts to me—could be ripped away.”
“I didn’t think about it that way. You have to do something about it, and I don’t blame you for not leaving it to the lawyers. But if worse comes to worst, you can always move in with me.”
“What, and put up with all those out-of-work actors you keep bringing home? No way.” Kara was the casting director for a show filmed in Boston, and her heart was way too soft for the job, Amanda had always thought.
“I know, I know. Listen, you stay safe. And if you need me, give a holler. You know I’ll come running.”
“I know. I’m okay at the moment. But thanks.”
When she’d hung up, she sat for a moment in the corner of the sofa, the phone still in her hand. Barney, who’d been sleeping at her feet while she talked, got up, stretched and nuzzled her hand.
“You already had your walk,” she reminded him. “Besides, it’s dark out.”
The phone rang in her hand, startling her. Trey. She answered.
“You must have been on the phone for the last hour,” he said. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Not that long. Anyway, I was talking to a friend in Boston. Is something happening?”
“No
, nothing. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t worrying about what happened today. I suspect when Donald Shay has considered the options, he’ll talk his mother-in-law into being a little more accommodating.”
“I already told you I won’t bring a suit against them.”
“I know. But he doesn’t.”
“I had no idea you were so devious.” She leaned back against a cushion, smiling.
Trey started to say something, but Amanda lost the thread as Barney sprang to his feet in a single movement. He barked, not a single welcoming woof but a volley of barking. Something thudded against the side of the cottage, sending him into a frenzy.
Amanda was on her feet with no memory of how she’d gotten there, holding on to the cell phone as if to a lifeline.
“Amanda, what’s going on?” Trey’s voice was sharp and urgent.
“Barney,” she said. “He hears something...someone...outside. And something just hit the side of the cottage. It sounded like a rock.”
“Stay inside,” he said sharply. “Don’t go looking for trouble. I’m on my way.”
Another one, whatever it was, hit the wall hard enough to make the calendar that hung there bounce.
“Please.” She wanted to tell him to hurry, but he would obviously come as fast as he could. The door was locked and bolted. She was perfectly safe as long as she stayed inside. Something struck near the side window, sending Barney into a crescendo of barking as he launched himself toward it.
Amanda grabbed his collar, pulling him back to her. Amos was only as far away as the farmhouse, but with the trees screening the cottage, he wouldn’t know anything was happening here. And if she called, the phone would ring in the outside phone shanty and then go to the answering machine.
She was on her own, but she had Barney for protection. Besides, she had no intention of going outside and making herself a target for whoever was out there.
But all the same, she hoped Trey hurried.
CHAPTER NINE
TREY TOOK THE turn into the farm lane with a squeal of brakes and a spray of gravel, his hands gripping the wheel. If Amanda had gone outside without waiting for him, he’d...well, he didn’t know what he’d do. She was a strong, independent woman, but nobody should go one-on-one against an intruder unless it was the only way to survive.
Almost as soon as he turned toward the cottage, he saw the beam of a powerful flashlight. The direction of the beam turned, and he could see it was Amos. The dog wasn’t barking now, so that had to be a good sign. He hit a rut that sent his head against the vehicle’s roof and forced himself to slow down. Around the last stand of trees, and the cottage came in view.
The door stood open, with light pouring out across the small porch. Amanda stood outside, and she looked as if she was in one piece. Amos flicked his flashlight beam down, so it wouldn’t be in Trey’s eyes, and held up his hand for Trey to stop.
“Everything’s okay,” he said. “No need to tear up here like a crazy person.”
“Isn’t there?” He swung out of the car and crossed the space that separated him from Amanda. “You sure you’re all right?” He scanned her face, looking for any sign of pain or distress.
“Yes, fine.” He thought, in the dim light, that she looked a little embarrassed by the fuss. “Luckily Amos heard Barney barking and came to check.”
Trey gave a quick glance around. “Where is Barney? And why are you outside?”
“Naturally I opened the door when I realized Amos was here. As for Barney... I’m afraid that he pulled away from me when I opened the door. Poor Amos thought he was charging at him for a second.”
Amos chuckled. “Gave me a start, I can tell you. But he’s a gut guard dog, that’s certain sure. Took off into the woods after whatever it was.”
Whatever? He glanced at Amanda, who responded with a slight shrug and a shake of her head. She didn’t want to make an issue of it with Amos, and he couldn’t say he blamed her.
“He’s been gone too long,” Amanda said abruptly, her mind obviously chasing after Barney. “We haven’t heard any barking in several minutes.” Taking a step away from him, she raised her voice. “Barney! Here, Barney. Here, boy!”
“Ach, he’s maybe off on the trail of something else by now,” Amos said easily. “He’ll find his way back. They always do.”
Amanda didn’t look that confident. “In a strange place?”
“You’ve had him up in the woods most every day for a run, ain’t so? He’ll have picked it up.”
It seemed Amos was right, because a moment later they heard something coming through the brush. Barney bounded up to Amanda, his tail waving as if with pride.
She gave him a quick hug. “Good boy, good dog. You chased him away, didn’t you?”
Trey bent to ruffle Barney’s ears, his eyes on Amanda. His outraged nerves had settled back to normal, but he was still worried. “Okay, so tell me exactly what happened. Did you see anything?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I heard noises outside, and something hit against the wall of the cottage a couple of times. I’m not dumb enough to go out and see what’s causing it.”
“Could have been a coyote,” Amos said. “I saw one up on the ridge one afternoon last week. They’ve come back, whether folks think it or not.”
He was referring, Trey knew, to the perennial battle over whether or not coyotes had actually returned to the Pennsylvania woods. Some authorities scoffed at the idea, but there had been sightings.
Amanda, probably alarmed at the idea of Barney getting in a fight, was running her hands over the dog, assuring herself that he was okay.
Trey frowned. “I’m not sure why a coyote would sound like something hitting the cottage. Have you looked around the outside of the cottage?”
“Not yet.” Amos seemed to pick up on his concern. “Let’s have a walk around. Where did the sounds come from?” The question was directed toward Amanda.
“The side away from the farmhouse.” She pointed. “They were loud, but luckily nothing hit the window, whatever it was.”
With a glance at Trey, inviting him to come, Amos started around the cottage, the beam of light focused on the ground at its base. Trey followed, keyed up to a nervous edge that demanded action.
Amos kept the grass cut low around the cottage, probably to discourage any rodents who thought it might make a good winter home. They hadn’t gone more than ten feet when they saw what they were after. Several large rocks lay a short distance from the wall, as if they’d bounced there after hitting the cottage.
Amos stood for a moment, staring down, and then he squatted. “They weren’t here before.”
“Are you sure?” Trey joined him. The largest was a baseball-size chunk, and the rocks would certainly account for the noises.
“Yah,” Amos said heavily. “I mowed up here the day Amanda moved in. Wanted it nice for a visitor. I’d have seen them and moved them out of the way, that’s certain sure.”
Amanda came around the corner of the cottage, the dog at her heels. “Find something?”
Amos shone the light on the rocks again. “There’s your answer. I’m not liking this. Sometimes there’s teenagers out looking for trouble, but I wouldn’t expect this. But for sure it wasn’t an animal.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Amanda reached toward Trey, handing him something that she held between her fingers. “Not unless the animals are wearing denim.”
Trey took the fragment of cloth from her, holding it to the light and showing Amos. “Where was it?”
“Caught in Barney’s teeth,” she said.
Amos exchanged glances with him, and the older man’s weathered face was lined with concern at the sight of the fabric scrap.
“At least Barney took a bite out of him.” Trey tried to sound more cheerful than he felt. “Good boy.”
Barney’s tail waved, and he looked ridiculously as if he were grinning at Trey.
“I don’t like this...somebody prowling around my land at night. Up to no good, you can count on it,” Amos said. “Maybe teenagers, like I said. Or possum hunters.”
“Maybe.” Trey was noncommittal.
Amos shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he repeated. He turned to Amanda. “Maybe you’d like to sleep at the house tonight. Sarah will have a room ready for you in a minute, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks, but I’m not nervous. Whoever he was, he’s gone now. I’ll be fine.”
Amos looked rueful. “Sarah will think I should have talked you into it. Sure you won’t?”
Smiling, Amanda was more like herself again. “Tell Sarah I’ll see her tomorrow, okay? And thanks, Amos.”
“It’s nothing. Nothing.” He strode away, following the beam of his flashlight back down the lane.
Amanda shivered in the cool air, and Trey couldn’t stop himself from touching her, running his hand down her arm. “How about inviting me in for coffee, so we can talk about this?”
“Come in for coffee,” she said, clasping his hand. “Or tea. Or hot chocolate. I’m well supplied.”
Walking inside hand in hand felt way too good to him. “Actually, I had enough coffee today to keep me awake for a week. Hot chocolate sounds good.”
Amanda closed the door, sliding the bolt with an automatic gesture.
“I’m glad to see you’re taking your safety seriously.” He followed her to the small kitchen, watching as she put the kettle on and opened a box of hot chocolate packets.
“Are you kidding? I live in the city, remember? And after that break-in at home, I’ve been superconscious of that.”
“Talk to me about that again,” he said, sitting down at the small kitchen table. “The first time I was concentrating on the message on the painting. I’d like to hear exactly how it transpired.”
“You’re not connecting it with what happened here, are you? It was probably a random break-in.” The kettle began to steam, and she poured the hot water over the cocoa in two mugs. After a momentary pause, she fetched a can of whipped cream from the refrigerator and topped each mug. “This was bad enough to warrant whipped cream, I think.”