Hearts Unfold

by Karen Welch

  “Jack, how would they know where to look?” Instantly, her heart began to race.

  “It would be a stretch. I doubt they'll give you any trouble. But just the same, don't open your door to any strangers. I'll take care of it. Now don't look so worried. I'd much rather see that big smile you had on your face earlier. Tell me about all this shopping. You didn't let Martha Jean talk you into anything too fancy, did you?”

  Squaring her shoulders, Emily tossed her head, throwing off the threat of anything spoiling her day. “A new coat. She wanted me to wear it now, but I managed to get out the door with this one. I think she would have thrown it away by the time I got back. Martha Jean could convince a duck to buy an umbrella, you know.”

  “Ha! You've got that right. Still she has a good heart. That charity clothes closet project has really taken off. She's got it set up like a regular store now, so when folks go in they don't have to rummage through boxes of stuff anymore. She's really good at organizing things, takes charge at the drop of a hat.”

  Emily gave him a long look. That was the first time she could remember Jack talking about a woman in that particular tone of voice. A confirmed bachelor, as far as she knew Jack had never even dated, although there had been plenty of matchmaking attempts. Still a handsome man, tall and lean with light brown hair and bright blue eyes, Emily had always seen him as a sort of knight in armor, even if it was brown twill rather than shining.

  They talked as they ate their fried chicken specials, discussing Emily's idea to apply to the University nursing school. She would have to live in Charlottesville, the commute being too long to be practical, but that had the advantage of putting her closer to Angela and to J.D. “I guess I'll have to let Angela know what I've decided. I just hope she doesn't try to change my mind. She can be pretty forceful.”

  Jack grinned. “I think you can hold your own. You're pretty forceful yourself. When did you get to be so stubborn?”

  “Stubborn?” Her expressive brows flew up.

  “Well, maybe determined is a better word. I always thought you were more easy-going, like your Pop, but now I'm beginning to see a little more of your mother, more spirit, maybe?”

  Again, she gave him a searching look. Something in his voice, a tenderness, reminded her of his devotion to her mother. Close friends, they had shared a warm, often laughing relationship. It was Jack her mother had turned to, entrusting the care of her husband and daughter at the end of her life. Jack had been her father's boyhood friend, but her mother had made him part of the family.

  “I'll take that as a compliment, although I hope I'm not as volatile as Mother was. She could go from sunny to stormy pretty fast. And I know I don't cry the way she did. It seemed to me she could be reduced to tears at the drop of a hat.”

  “Maybe that went along with her talent. As far as I know, you didn't inherit that from either of them.”

  Emily grinned, shaking her head. “I can't play much more than chopsticks, no matter how much she wanted me to. It's funny, because I love music so much, but I never wanted to play. Having the two of them in the house, I suppose I didn't need to. I miss hearing them, though. Especially Mother. There was something so personal about the way she played. Every piece of music seemed to be her own. I plan to have the piano tuned. Then at least my chopsticks will be on key.” She laughed to hide the lump that rose in her throat.

  “Still have J.D.'s violin?”

  “Of course. I put it on the piano, just the way Mother used to for Christmas. He never played you know, after she was gone.” They were entering dangerous waters and she looked away, searching for a way to change the subject. Through the front window, she saw Peter and James McConnell passing and pointed them out to Jack. “How long is James home this time?”

  “Only two weeks. He'll be getting out soon. None too soon, though. He's in pretty rough shape, from what Mike says. He's been in the thick of things over there.” Emily watched as the brothers stopped to wait for passing traffic at the corner. Always very different, James tall and dark, Peter stockier and fair, now the contrast was startling; James was gaunt, his expression somber and guarded, while Peter grinned and waved at the driver as the car passed.

  “My roommate's fiancé is over there. Do you think it will ever end?”

  “Someday. But not before taking its toll, like all wars. Bad thing about this one is the way people here at home feel about it. The boys are going to suffer from that, just the same as being in combat. It's not their fault. They're just following orders.” Noticing the sadness that had crept into her eyes, Jack pointed to her untouched apple pie. “Are you going to eat that, or just stare it down?”

  She smiled up at him, a smile too wise for her years. “I'm going to eat it, silly. Have you ever known me to pass up anything wrapped in pastry? How much more time do I get before we have to leave town? I'd like to go by the parsonage and say hello to Sara. And tell her I can help with Vacation Bible School this summer.” Slowly, the smile grew until that one dimple peeked out.

  “Okay, you go to the parsonage and meet me back at Martha Jean's in two hours. I'll be done for the day by then and we can load up your loot and head for the hills. What about the market? I thought you needed some things there.”

  “I left my list and Mr. Brown said he'd have it ready whenever I wanted to pick it up. You should see the lamb chops he has! If you can stay for supper, I'll order some for us.”

  Helping her into her coat, he chuckled. “You twisted my arm. Can you fix some of those carrots with that glaze you used to make?”

  “Why Jack, don't tell me you've missed my cooking? I would have come home a lot sooner, if I'd known that.” Laughing, they went out into the sunshine. Talk around the square that afternoon was that Emily Haynes was coming home. And Sheriff Deem had actually been seen laughing out loud.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By midweek, Jack was encouraging Emily to telephone Angela with her news. “It's not right for one of us to know without telling the other one. I don't want her getting all over me for keeping your secret.” Stopping by at lunch time, he’d been persuaded to have a bowl of beef stew. As he sat at the kitchen table watching her working around the kitchen, he grinned. “You don't need a step stool anymore to reach the counter tops.”

  “Hardly. In case you hadn't noticed, I grew. And grew!”

  When she took her place across from him, he drew another of those sighs that always preceded a serious conversation. “A guy came in today, from New York, asking questions about the accident.”

  “Another newspaper type?” Her spoon paused in mid-air.

  “No. This one was an investigator. He said he works for Stani Moss's manager. They're trying to figure out how he came to be down here in the first place.”

  Now she laid down her spoon and gave him her full attention. “Can't he tell them?”

  “Apparently not. I didn't get much of an answer when I asked how he was doing. Just that he was still in the hospital recovering from some kind of surgery. But this fellow wanted to know about you. Or at least he wanted to know about the woman who found Moss.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “All I told him was that you didn't want any publicity. I let him know I'm your guardian and I intend to protect you. He was a nice guy, really. I think he understood.”

  She stared out the window, wondering what condition Stani might be in by now. Why would an investigator need to come all the way down here to learn what happened that night? She had told herself that once he was back with his family, he'd move forward. It had never occurred to her that they would want to look back to what had taken place here.

  “Don't look so upset, Em. He won't bother you. I think he's just trying to make sure nothing happened that they need to cover up. I get the impression this Moss is something of a bad boy. The guy driving the car certainly was. It sounds like they were off on an adventure that went wrong.”

  It didn't fit, not with her impression of him. That face she had watched a
ll those hours did not belong to a “bad boy.” “Maybe so. I guess I'll never know. At this point, I just want it to all go away, Jack. I want to get on with my life, without wondering who's going to come around asking questions next.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. “I know, Em. This was likely the last we'll hear about it.” When she turned her gaze out the window again, staring off across the yard, he patted her hand. “Eat your stew. I've got to get back to work. I'll tell you what. Instead of calling Angela, how about I take you to Charlottesville tomorrow? We can have lunch with Angela and stop by the nursing home. Maybe it'll be easier to tell her if I'm along, anyway.”

  Her eyes, dark gray with a worried reflection, met his. Slowly, her lips curved in a serious little smile. “You're too good to me, Jack. What did I ever do to deserve a godfather like you?”

  “You'd have to ask someone else that question. I'm just doing what I can for my best girl. Besides, the food at Salvatore's is the best around. I always eat there when I have to go across the valley. Call Angela and make the date. Now give me a hug. I've got a ton of end of the year paperwork to dig through.” He stood up, shrugging into his jacket.

  “Poor Jack. All work and no play?”

  “Heck no. I play. Just not when anybody's watching.” He winked, something that had always gotten a smile from her. “Now wipe that worried look off your face. You want Angela to think you've got everything under control, don't you?”

  She laughed softly. “That would be a lie, Jack. And I thought I was giving up lying. I'll be happy if Angela doesn't try to convince me I've lost my mind.”

  Angela Salvatore had always been involved in her life, from as early as Emily could remember. Although she lived two hours away, and had a demanding job and a family of her own, she made it clear that she was interested in every aspect of life at the farm. Angela Pappas had first known Lilianne Goddard as her instructor while a student at the conservatory, before returning to New York to marry her childhood sweetheart. The daughter of Greek immigrants, her marriage to Gianni Salvatore, the son of an Italian restauranteur, was destined to be passionate and even stormy at times. By the time she’d obtained a position teaching piano alongside her former mentor, Angela was the mother of a young son and Sal had decided that New York was too small for one more Salvatore's Ristorante. He had taken a small store front in downtown Charlottesville and established a little bit of Italy in the Blue Ridge.

  Angela possessed all of the qualities Lilianne admired most. She was musically gifted, passionate about life and inclined to follow her emotions rather than the dictates of reason. They seemed to understand each other at a glance, to communicate without words; and the bond between them only grew stronger through the years. When Emily was born, her mother had been certain that in the event she could not see her daughter to adulthood, Angela would be the perfect surrogate.

  Now as Emily sat across the table in the sunny restaurant, Angela seemed to be waiting, as if she already knew but was willing to let Emily put into words what was on her mind. The problem was the words wouldn't come. It had been relatively easy to tell Jack that she wanted to come home, but the prospect of telling Angela left her strangely speechless.

  As she pushed her salad around the plate, Jack cleared his throat. “Emily has decided to make some changes in her school plans.”

  Angela raised one finely arched black brow. “Really? What kind of changes, dear?”

  “I'm going to transfer to the University, I hope.”

  “That would be wonderful, Em. But is that what your father would want?” The question was asked in the kindest of voices, but it cut like a knife through Emily's confidence.

  “I think he would, if he knew it was what I wanted.” Surprised by the resolve in her own voice, she went on. “I think he would expect me to take charge of my life. And I'm not happy in Williamsburg. I want to come home.” There, it was out. The look of mild concern in Angela's eyes encouraged her. She had feared an instant expression of dismay, or even disapproval.

  “I see. I can't say I'm surprised. It was only a matter of time. You were bound to find your way back to that farm. It's where you belong.” In a characteristic move, Angela ran a hand through her long hair, twisting it in a rope over her shoulder. Her hair, black now streaking with silver, was as much a means of expression as words or gestures. With a toss, she could dismiss any argument; swept back with both hands, she eloquently displayed her anger or frustration, and with this gentle twist, Emily knew she was preparing to listen carefully.

  With help from Jack, she explained her plan; and at each turn, Angela nodded, occasionally muttering a word or two of understanding. Emily thought she seemed to be reading between the words, interpreting the underlying emotions, and knew by the look in her eyes, she had captured Angela's sympathy.

  “Why nursing, dear? It's a noble profession, certainly, but I never knew you had an interest.” After careful consideration, that seemed to be the only question she had.

  “Jack suggested it. I think it will be a good fit. There will always be a need for nurses, even in the country.” She felt herself blush at a sudden vision of Stani Moss stretched by the fire. That would not escape Angela's notice, she was sure.

  “I see. Good for Jack. I know how well you took care of your mother. You have a gift, so calm and patient. You'll make a fine nurse. And the farm, will you try to make it grow things again?”

  With a grin at her suggestion, Emily nodded. “Pop would like that, don't you think?”

  Settling back in her chair, Angela smiled. “I think your father would be bursting with pride at what a strong daughter he raised. Don't you think so, Jack?”

  “He wouldn't have expected any less.”

  Angela turned her attention to her son, who was just coming out of the kitchen. “Emily, dear, why don't you go say hello to Joey? And ask him to make cannoli for all of us, will you please?”

  It was only after she had obeyed and was standing in the kitchen watching as Joey filled the pastries, that Emily realized Angela had sent her away in order to have a private word with Jack. She let out a little sigh of exasperation.

  “What's up, Em?” Joey was focused on his work, but he looked up with a grin.

  “Oh, nothing. Your mom just used my weakness for desserts to trick me. She and Jack are probably conspiring against me right now.” Shrugging, she touched her finger into the creamy filling and raised it to her tongue.

  “They just want what's best for you. Mom worries about you all the time. She was sure you were going to break an arm or leg, or worse, on that skiing trip. I told her she was all worked up over nothing. You're too smart to do something like that.” Avoiding her gaze, he completed his work, his face a deeper shade of red than usual.

  Carrying the tray of cannoli and coffee back to the table, Emily searched the smiling faces that turned in greeting. “Got my future all settled now?”

  There was a definite gleam of satisfaction in Angela's eyes. “I think so.”

  On the drive home, they discussed their brief visit to the nursing home. It had been unusual, Jack admitted. J.D. rarely said more than a few syllables, but today he had spoken the same word, very clearly over and over. At their arrival, he had looked questioningly at both of them. “Good?” When Emily explained that she had been to the farm for Christmas, he had looked pointedly at Jack. “Good?” Assured that it had indeed been good having her home, J.D. had smiled and nodded his head. “Good.”

  “Do you really believe he sent you home?” Jack was clearly reevaluating the situation.

  “Yes! Didn't you see that look in his eyes? He was so smug, knowing he had manipulated the whole thing. Pop was always proud of his powers of persuasion.”

  Jack chuckled. “But he was no match for your mother. She could wind him around her little finger. That's another thing I see in you that reminds me of her. You realize you won the day with Angela, hands down.”

  “Did I? I was afraid the two of you were going to
come up with some plot to change my mind.”

  “Oh, no. We just had a little talk, godparent stuff. We still have our jobs to do, no matter how independent you think you are.”

  Emily hesitated for a moment. “You told her about Stani Moss, didn't you?”

  Without blinking an eye, Jack nodded. “She needed to know. That was too big to keep from her.” When she didn't respond, he went on, “Angela thinks you need to have more fun. She plans to make sure you do, once you get to Charlottesville.”

  “I see. Well, forewarned is forearmed. But the kind of fun the Salvatores have, all that yelling, I'd just as soon avoid. I love them all, but it can get really chaotic. Poor Lil, no wonder she locks herself in her room and practices for hours.”

  “Just the same, I agree you need to get out more. Before you tie yourself down and turn into a weathered old maid in dirty overalls, why not give the opposite sex a chance? You might be surprised.”

  He knew he was doomed when she gave him a long, cool look and tossed her head. “Really, Jack. If a man is all you think I need to make me happy, you seriously underestimate me. And if Angela plans to play matchmaker, she'll be disappointed.”

  Admitting defeat, he held up one hand. “Okay, have it your way. But I warn you, love happens when you're least expecting it. And nobody is immune.”

  “Nobody, Jack? Not even you?”

  “Nobody.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  John Kimble completed his investigation in only two days and sat down with Milo to go over the little he'd been able to learn outside of what the press had already reported regarding Mark Stevenson's movements that night. Stani had left the hotel with Betsy, driving away in her borrowed car. They had gone straight to a private lodge in the mountains southwest of Washington, which had been loaned for the evening to a popular rock and roll musician. There was no indication that Stani had any previous relationship with this person, who had a reputation for outrageous if not quite criminal behavior. Stani and Betsy had arrived together; but from that point on, as far as he could determine, Betsy had been seen exclusively in the company of Mark Stevenson. John had had difficulty finding anyone who actually remembered seeing Stani during the party until he'd talked with the caterer who'd been on hand. The man's young daughter, a music student, had recognized Stani, standing off to himself, and approached him. They had talked for almost an hour, late in the evening. In addition, John learned that the bartenders recalled seeing Stani only once, when he had first arrived at the party. No one recalled seeing the three leave together, but the person Mark had traveled with to the party had already stated that Mark told him he was returning to New York with a friend that night.