by Karen Young
“I just told you what he’s doing.”
“Ted. Wake up and smell the coffee. Walter isn’t the cause of your trouble. I can’t believe you! The trouble is your own selfish insistence on having an affair and damning the consequences.”
“Let’s not get started on that again, Rachel. Just tell me you’ll mention to Dinah the possibility of moving in with her temporarily. She’s crazy about the kids. It’ll be okay, you’ll see. And by the way, I’ve talked to a real estate agent. We can make a ton of money on this house.”
“You talked to an agent before even mentioning it to me?”
“I just asked,” he said, shrugging. “I figured you’d be happy to hear what a good investment we’re sitting on.”
Rachel simply gazed at him in silence for a long moment. “If you thought I was freaked out over your shoddy affair, Ted,” she said in a dangerously soft tone, “then you will really be shocked if you hang around another minute.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Rachel.”
She pointed to the door. “Out, Ted. Now.”
Muttering an obscenity, he slammed his drink on the bar in disgust and left.
Eight
Three months later
Cam’s first job on his to-do list after finishing his book was to repaint the trim on his porch. Trying to keep the old place in good repair was a never-ending challenge, but he’d found that he liked tinkering around the house where he’d been raised. It was surprisingly satisfying. Not only was the house shaping up, but while doing the work, he found that with his hands occupied, his mind was free to flesh out the proposal for a new book. It was nearing midday now and he was almost finished repainting the trim when he heard the roaring sound of a huge moving van gearing down, then braking to make the turn at the corner of the street. New neighbors…and close by, he thought, since Morningside was a short street. He stopped what he was doing, balanced the paint brush on top of the can and reached for a rag soaked in turpentine to clean his hands.
The van appeared to be slowing to a stop. With a frown, he saw the driver peering at the number on his own house and then his neighbor’s, Dinah Hunt. Cam watched, assuming the driver had stopped to get his bearings, but then a car turned the corner, pulled in front of the moving van and stopped at curbside. Out of it came Rachel Forrester, her son, Nick, another teenage boy in a baseball cap and a little girl. This couldn’t be what it appeared, he thought, even as he watched Rachel approach the van driver.
With a sense of impending doom, he saw the driver’s helper get out and head toward the back of the van. Once the doors were opened, he adjusted the load ramp and disappeared inside. The little girl raced up Dinah’s sidewalk yelling, “We’re here, Gran! We’re all ready to move in!”
It couldn’t be, but it was. Tossing his paint rag aside, Cam slapped the lid on the can and gave it a smart thump with a hammer, heedless of the color splattering his shoes. Scowling, he snatched up the newspaper he’d used to protect the porch floor and stuffed it into a plastic trash bag while out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy, Nick, break away from his buddy and head his way. Just what he needed right next door, Rachel Forrester and her son, highly visible and constant reminders of Jack and how he’d died.
“Hi, Mr. Ford.”
He straightened slowly, scooping up the smelly rag. “Cam,” he reminded the boy. “How’s it goin’, Nick?”
“I guess you can tell we’re moving in with Gran today.”
Looking up from scrubbing paint off his shoe, Cam saw the first load—three large boxes—was now being wheeled down the ramp on a dolly. “I figured that out.”
Nick’s gaze drifted back to the van where the helper was carefully handing a cat carrier over to the driver. Inside, a big yellow tom meowed in protest. “It’s sort of a family emergency. Nobody’s happy about it except Gran and Kendy.”
“Kendy. That would be your little sister.”
“Yes, sir. Kendall. She seems to think it’s some kind of vacation, us going to live with Gran. The truth is, my mom and dad are getting a divorce.”
And Rachel was screwed out of the house? Had she let him con her into using the same lawyer, playing on her denial that he wouldn’t take advantage of her? His infidelity alone should have given her grounds to take him to the cleaners. Instead, here were Rachel and the kids being displaced, not Ted. Cam swiped one last time at his Nikes and tried to keep what he thought off his face. He found it gave him no satisfaction that he’d been right about Forrester. Straightening, he said, “I’m sorry about that.”
Nick shrugged with a kid’s fatalistic acceptance of having no power over grown-ups and their decisions. “Mom says the move’s only temporary,” he said, watching Kendall coax the scared cat out of the carrier. “We’ll have to wait for the details of the divorce to be worked out before finding another house, but it’ll be in Rose Hill.” This he said with certainty, but a scowl darkened his face. “No way we’ll move somewhere else.”
“Then it’s fortunate your Gran lives right here and that Rose Hill is a small town,” Cam said, seeking to help put a positive spin on a sorry situation. “You and your sister won’t have to change schools.” At least these kids would stay on familiar turf with friends to help ease the pain of their parents’ split. The stress of divorce plus the move from New York to Texas had apparently been more than Jack could handle.
“That’s what my mom said when she told us that we had to sell the house.” He was turned, watching the movers. “Because of the lawsuit.”
Well, at least Rachel was suing his ass. Which would mean their assets were in limbo while she negotiated with Ted. Moving in with Dinah might have been a necessity, which meant she could hold out as long as it took. “Your mom is staying on at Rose Hill High, I assume.”
“I guess.”
“And your dad?” Cam didn’t know why the hell he was asking. It definitely was nothing to him where Forrester went.
Nick’s gaze swung about. “My dad won’t be able to stay at his practice…with the lawsuit and all. He says he’s gonna have to scope out another location.”
Ted was setting up a new practice? Maybe it wasn’t Rachel suing him, but Walter Dalton. Was he being kicked out of the practice? If so, Rachel and the family unit weren’t the only casualties of his infidelity. Was he leaving town? Cam could tell him about the problems for his kids that would add to the situation. Presuming, of course, that Forrester had any concern about the welfare of his kids. So far, he hadn’t shown much of anything except a juvenile infatuation for someone else’s wife.
“Dad says his new practice will be here in Rose Hill,” Nick added, but when Cam glanced over at the boy, he was chewing the inside of his lip. Worried, but trying to keep up a brave front, Cam thought. He wondered if Ted had anticipated quite so much fallout from his affair. And what did it mean for Rachel and her kids if the practice was kaput? Then he caught himself. No sense speculating about a situation that didn’t concern him.
“How’s the ball team doing this season?” he asked, moving to a safe subject.
“Okay, I guess. Varsity will probably make the play-offs if we keep on like we’re going, so far. Coach says I could be at first base next year.” Nick slipped his hands into his back pockets, looking as if he had a secret. His demeanor went from dark to light in a few seconds. “He’s been great. He’s been giving Ward and me extra coaching.” Turning to look for his friend, he put two fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle, motioning the boy over. “Ward’s over today helping me and my mom with the move.”
Ward appeared, winded a little from the run. “Hi, Mr. Ford.” Then, before Nick could introduce him, he added, “How ya doin’?”
“I’m good, Ward. And it’s Cam. How’s your dad?”
“Same as ever.” Ward grinned. “Big as life and twice as tough.”
“Wait, wait,” Nick broke in, waving a hand. “You guys know each other?”
Ward’s easy smile faltered. “Sort of,” he said, with a hes
itant look at Cam.
Cam flashed back to Jack’s funeral, the day he’d met the boy, and found he could reply and sound almost normal. “My son and Jimbo were friends,” he explained to Nick. Forcing memory aside, he said to Ward, “I hear Jimbo’s shaping up to go pro.”
“You’re not gonna believe it,” Ward said with pride. “He’s had a couple of interviews with scouts already, but Dad’s trying to persuade him to stay at UT until he graduates. Problem is, he’s got a whole year to go.”
“A whole year,” Cam said, knowing it sounded like a lifetime to Ward.
“Yeah, and what if he gets injured or something.” Ward saw visions of big money floating out the window. “It’s tough to turn your back on that.”
“Yeah, injury is always a possibility.”
“I didn’t know you had a son,” Nick said, looking interested. “Is he, like, living with his mom, or something?”
“Cool it, Nick,” Ward said, jabbing him in the ribs with his elbow.
“Ow!” Nick looked at Ward. “What? What!”
“My son passed away five years ago,” Cam said.
“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry,” Nick said with a stricken look. “Ward never said—”
“I didn’t know Mr. Ford was living here. You never mentioned knowing him,” Ward explained, then looked at Cam. “Everyone thought you’d stay in New York, Mr….uh, Cam. You know, because of your work. Being a writer and all. And with Jack—” He broke off, cleared his throat, realizing he’d veered into deep water. “I mean, what’s Rose Hill compared to New York City?”
“It’s home,” Cam said. “And to tell the truth, writers can pretty much write anywhere…as long as it doesn’t get too noisy.” He could tell them that memories haunted a man anywhere, anyplace. And maybe he’d wanted to be close to Jack.
“You won’t even know we’re here,” Nick promised hastily.
Not a chance. Cam wished it was true. He looked at Ward. “So, which scouts are courting Jimbo?”
“St. Louis and Chicago.” Ward beamed with brotherly pride. “Hot and heavy, too. Me and Nick have a bet going whether he’ll drop out of UT and sign with one of them or pass for right now. I mean, jeez, the offer will probably be six figures. Nick says he’ll stay. I say he’ll take the money.”
“Tough decision,” Cam agreed. “But keeping in mind that injury can happen whether Jimbo’s playing at UT or in the pros, it makes sense to have that degree to fall back on. And whether an athlete is injured or not, he can’t play ball after passing his prime, anyway.”
“What about Nolan Ryan?” Ward argued, naming one of baseball’s greats and Texas’s favorite sons. “He was way into his forties when he retired.”
“Nolan Ryan is a rare exception,” Cam said. Then, after a pause, “So, how’s it going with Coach Monk and the special attention?”
“I told Cam about Coach Monk giving both of us some pointers,” Nick explained to Ward, making a mock overhand pitch to an imaginary target near the van. “My stats have improved big time. I couldn’t believe it at first, him singling us out for special coaching, but he’s been really great, huh, Ward?”
Ward didn’t look quite as enthusiastic, but he gave a nod. “Yeah, he’s great.” He shifted from one foot to the other, gave a swipe to his nose and squinted off in the distance. “We’re lucky, I guess. When I told Jimbo about it, he said that kind of help from Coach can be a real advantage, but to look out for some bad action from the other guys.” He brought his gaze back to Nick. “You gotta admit, Nick, Ferdy and B.J. are acting really pissed off.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Nick said, shrugging, “but I’m blowin’ ’em off. They’re jerks.” He turned back to Cam. “Ward’s the one who’s really lucked out with Coach. I mean, he’s giving me some pointers, but he’s spending a lot more time with Ward. Coach thinks Ward will be even better than Jimbo.”
“Aw, c’mon, Nick. Can it.” Ward’s fair skin was flushed with embarrassment.
“He’s shy,” Nick said, grinning at Cam.
To Cam, it seemed there was more than shyness in Ward’s demeanor. “You having any difficulty with…who is it? Ferdy and B.J., Ward?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Ward said.
“They’re just jealous,” Nick said. “I keep telling him that.”
“Jealousy can show itself in pretty mean ways sometimes,” Cam said, still studying Ward’s face.
“It’s okay. I’m cool.” The look he gave Nick promised a reckoning later. Cam decided to let it go. If Ward and Nick were being singled out for preferential treatment from Monk Tyson, then they’d have to learn to handle the fallout.
“Uh-oh,” Nick said, turning at the sound of his name. “Kendy-the-tiger’s headed this way. Break time’s over, guys.”
Looking beyond them, Cam saw Kendall marching across the lawn, her gaze fixed on her brother. Dark hair, curly and wild like her grandmother’s, he thought as she drew closer. Snub nose, big brown eyes, which came from Forrester, he decided, although her expression as she zeroed in on her brother put him in mind of Rachel in one of her no-nonsense moods. Looking closer, he saw that she had a camera hanging around her neck on a bright red strap.
“Nick, Mom says you’ve gotta come and help, right now.” She had one small fist propped on her hip, the other hand held on to her camera.
Sure enough, Rachel was crossing the lawn. “We gotta go,” Nick said to Ward. “We don’t want to tick Mom off, otherwise, she’ll nix the pizza she promised and we’ll be eating pb and j instead.” Flashing a grin and a friendly wave at Cam, he and Ward jogged off in Rachel’s direction.
Cam watched them go, young, strong and healthy, their whole lives in front of them. He was forced to take a steadying breath and hold it until the pain was shoved back inside and a tight lid slapped on.
“’Scuse me, Mr. Ford.”
Coming from a dark place, he looked down to find the little girl looking up at him from the bottom of the porch steps. The yellow tom wound in and out at her feet and the sound of his purring was so loud that Cam could hear it. “Hey, Kendall.”
“You know my name?” She smiled widely.
“Nick mentioned it.”
“Oh. Okay.” Not waiting for an invitation, she climbed the porch steps. The cat followed. “This is my camera,” she told him. “It’s digital.”
“It’s cool,” he said. Her face was heart-shaped, what he could see of it through her curly mop. Big eyes fixed on him. “Are you a photographer?”
“Yes. And I’d like to take a picture of your house, please. If you don’t mind.”
“My house?”
She glanced around the porch, taking in the leaded glass front door, the fanlights above the tall windows, the gingerbread trim glistening with fresh paint. “It’s a special house. I’ve been noticing it for a long time…whenever I visit Gran. I like the way it looks, like it probably has secrets from way back.”
“I don’t know about secrets, but I’ve been told there’s a ghost.” What was he doing? he asked himself. First the boy, now the little girl. Open a door to kids and they were like puppy dogs, swarming all over.
“A ghost?” Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
Cam reached down and picked up the paint can. His grandfather had convinced him by the time he was six years old that the ghost of a renegade ancestor roamed the attic of the old house. “My great-great-great uncle was a gambler who was falsely accused of cheating while playing poker.”
“It’s his ghost?”
“Uh-huh, so they say. And he can’t rest until his name is cleared.”
“But how can he ever prove that he didn’t do it?” Kendall asked, frowning over practicalities. Another of her mother’s traits.
Cam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t gone on to that big gambling casino in the sky. He’s holding out for justice.”
“Maybe he expects you to prove him innocent,” she said, her head cocked, considering. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Write
about crimes and try to figure out who did it if it isn’t already solved?”
“I guess so, more or less.”
She studied his face, long and hard. “I still want to take a picture of your house.”
Now was the time to establish boundaries, but he made the mistake of looking into her big eyes. “Okay, go for it.” But he told himself he didn’t have to hang around and watch. He was reaching for the door to escape when she stopped him.
“No, wait. You have to be in it.” Kendall ran back down the porch steps and stood looking critically at the front of the house through the digital lens of her camera, then back up at Cam. “You need to sit in that wicker chair. Actually,” she added, “you look sort of like someone back in olden times. You know those pictures taken when cameras were first invented? They never smiled. Like you. You may be your great-great-great uncle come back to clear his name.”
“You believe in reincarnation?”
“What’s that mean?” she asked, momentarily distracted.
“Just what you said. Someone who died in the past comes back in the body of a present-day person.”
“Hmm,” she said, puckering up her face to think it over. “I’m not sure that could happen.” She paused and he could almost see the wheels turning. He was thinking that Ted Forrester must be crazy as well as heartless for turning his back on these two kids. Nick seemed a nice boy and this little girl could steal a robot’s heart. “I think I see your mom coming, so you’d better hurry with that photo,” he said, spotting Rachel making her way over with a decidedly stern look about her.
Kendall immediately focused the camera again, paying meticulous attention to the composition of the picture.
“Kendy—”
“Mom, Mr. Ford is letting me take a picture of his house. And him, too. There’s a ghost, but unless I’m lucky, he probably won’t show up in the picture.”
Rachel looked once into Cam’s gray eyes, then away. “Kendall, Mr. Ford is busy. And you need to go inside and unpack your things. The movers have taken in all the boxes marked with your name.”
“This will only take a minute,” Kendall said, refusing to be rushed. With the photo now set up, she turned her attention back to Cam. “Put that paint can down, Mr. Ford,” she ordered. “Hide it behind that big pot plant.”