by Deb Donahue
Before leaving Riverside, Miranda asked if they could stop by the hospital. She wanted to see Luke to tell him she would keep Butch. She wasn’t sure if that was all she had to say to him. Part of her wanted to confront him angrily about the lies he’d told her. Another part, though, just wanted to be done with it all. Once he got better, he could take Butch off her hands and let her get on with her life.
The hospital smelled of disinfectant but the walls had been painted a cheerful yellow with a flowered wallpaper lining the bottom of the hallway walls. A nurse greeted her cheerfully when Miranda asked for Luke’s room and even flushed a little. Miranda suspected the young woman had been as taken by Luke’s good looks as she herself had been that first meeting in the barn.
A police officer sat stationed outside his hospital room, but Miranda had been warned about that. They were still checking to see if there were any outstanding warrants for him, the sheriff had told her, plus as a material witness they wanted to keep him safe from any payback by the arms dealer. They’d be keeping an eye on her as well, he’d said.
She wasn’t prepared to find Luke sleeping, however. She stopped halfway to his bed and stood there watching him. His face was white and his mouth pinched, but he seemed completely relaxed as if in a restful slumber. She watching him for a few minutes, listening to his quiet breathing, and remembered the few times they’d spoken.
He’d never said for sure, but Miranda was certain his had been the face at the car window that first night. His eyes, looking through the rain rivulets, had seemed like part of a nightmare. She’d felt instinctively uneasy under his surveillance in the days that followed as she went about her business of cleaning the farmhouse. Barn doors open that used to be closed, sunlight that might not be sunlight glinting off windows, that first glimpse of him and Butch on the edge of the woods.
Why was it she’d not left immediately when she first saw him on her property like that? Was it simply because she’d thought it might be the same young man she saw at the grocery store that day? Or was there something even then that made him more fascinating than threatening? One thing for sure, even before she met him, she’d been more curious than frightened. And once she met him face to face, there’d been no denying the attraction she felt right away.
She wanted to be angry at him for lying to her, to demand he tell her the truth about himself this time. But she also just wanted him to wake up and tell her it was all a mistake. That he really was a hero, not a liar, not a convict.
She left the hospital without resolving any of her conflict, without waiting for him to awaken, without trying to communicate in any way. Luke, too, was something she needed to think about for a while. So many decisions awaited her that it seemed almost overwhelming.
Chapter 20
When the deputy dropped Miranda and the dogs off in front of Patty’s house, the postmistress greeted her with open arms on the front porch.
“Oh, you poor, poor thing,” Patty exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Miranda as soon as she mounted the porch steps. “What you went through. What you had to endure. And the fire! Losing everything like that.” Patty clucked her tongue sympathetically and led Miranda into the house with one arm still around her shoulders. “Now you come right on in here and take a seat. Everyone’s been dying to come express their condolences but I told them to keep themselves at home for today at least.
“Except for Sissy, of course,” Patty continued as she patted the sofa for Miranda to have a seat. Mr. Carmichael was home as well, in his chair puffing on his pipe. He nodded a silent greeting, but his eyes looked warm and welcoming.
“Sissy’s heading to her sister’s later today,” Patty said, sitting next to Miranda. “Going to move in with her, don’t you know. And she said she just couldn’t leave without saying how sorry she was. Not that she did anything wrong, mind you. That Harlan had us all hoodwinked, I tell you. All of us. Slipperier than a politician’s snake if you ask me.”
The corner of Patty’s front room was filled with boxes. Rufus and Butch started sniffing around them curiously.
“Oh, those,” Patty said, as if Miranda had said something about them. “Just a few things people been donating. Plenty of time for you to look through them later, see what you want to keep and what to give away. The garage is full, too. Though what’s a person want with five old mattresses, I’m sure I don’t know. You could fill up three houses with everything people been bringing. But that’s the way it is in a small town, leastways it is in Greenville. Let me get you some tea, and I got leftover pot roast just needs to be thrown in the microwave.”
Patty started for the kitchen, still talking, her voice growing louder as she walked away so that Miranda could hear her even after she was out of sight.
“Put up a sign at the post office, I did,” Patty practically shouted from the kitchen. Miranda could hear the whir of the microwave. “‘Closed till one,’ it said. Nothing needs to be mailed so urgent a person can’t wait a couple hours. Some things is more important than a few letters.”
While Miranda devoured leftovers that were even more delicious than they’d been the day before, Patty regaled her with a list of just about everything that had been donated to help Miranda get back on her feet. Clothes from the checker at the grocery store: “Probably all too small for a normal-sized woman. That girl needs to eat, don’t you know.” A hand-sewn quilt from the church sewing circle. A whole bedroom set from the mayor. “To tell you the truth, I was tempted to sneak off with that myself before you got here. You wouldn’t believe the junk bed me and the Mister are sleeping in these days.”
The bed Patty eventually led Miranda to was far from junky. The guest room was papered with huge peonies and fresh flowers were in a vase by window. A log cabin quilt covered the bed with, of course, a contrasting, crocheted afghan folded at the foot in case extra warmth was needed.
“You just take a rest here, dearie. That’s a long night just behind you and you deserve it.”
Then finally she left and Miranda sat at the edge of the bed, realizing she hadn’t had a chance to say even one word since she’d arrived.
Rufus and Butch sat and watched her, looking as stunned as she felt. There was an adjoining bathroom, but Miranda suddenly felt so tired she kicked off her shoes and crawled into bed just the way she was. Staying on top of the covers, she pulled the afghan over her and sank into the pillows. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked at the two dogs.
“Come,” she said quietly, snapping her fingers at them. “Come on, boys.”
They both hopped up on the bed and snuggled next to her, Butch warming her back and Rufus curled in front of her like a hot water bottle. Then Miranda fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for the first time in weeks.
When she finally woke, she opened her eyes slowly, confused at first, and reluctant to leave the comforting dream she’d been having. In her dream, she was sleeping in the upstairs bedroom at her grandmother’s and her father had come in to sit on the edge of her bed to wake her. She pretended she was still sleeping as he whispered softly into her ear and rustled her hair. His warm breath tickled her cheek. The sound of little girl giggles gently had accompanied her back to the waking world.
The house was empty by the time she took a shower and made it downstairs. She wore a robe Patty had left for her and found a note on the dining room table saying Patty would be back at four o’clock and to help herself to anything her little old heart desired. It was two thirty.
Rummaging through the boxes, Miranda found some clothes that actually fit, even if they were mismatched. There was orange juice in the refrigerator, and eggs and sliced ham. As she made herself an omelet, she thought how upside down her day had been: pot roast for breakfast, eggs and ham for lunch.
The food hit the spot, however, and Miranda began to go through the boxes again, setting aside things she could use and creating a different pile for things she should give back or give away. When someone knocked on the door, she jumped, and suddenly al
l the things that had happened in the last twenty four hours came rushing back. The danger was over, she knew, but her nerves were still on edge more than she’d realized.
The visitor was Sissy. At first recognition, Miranda tensed. Sissy may have had nothing to do with Harlan’s criminal activities, but seeing her made it all too real again. Then she noticed the consternation and pleading on the older woman’s face and her heart melted. She invited her in.
Sissy seemed even more wounded by what had happened than Miranda. “Twenty years I lived in that house.” Sissy’s hand shook as she took the cup of tea Miranda offered her. “Worked beside him. Why, I knew his mama. How ashamed she would be.”
She didn’t seem to know about the PCP-laced chicken casserole and Miranda didn’t enlighten her. For one thing it was only a guess. For another, it would have devastated the poor woman.
Sissy stayed until Patty got home from work, eventually talking about Miranda’s grandmother and the fun times they’d had competing at the various food fairs and exchanging recipes. “She was such a good woman. She missed your grandfather every day of her life. Showed me letters he’d written her. Used to draw little kitten faces on them, he did. That was his pet name for her. I loved that idea. I’m a cat lover myself, you should know. I started doing the same thing on my jar labels, kind of a tribute to the love they had. Your grandma said it brought tears to her eyes. Poor dear.”
Patty talked her into staying for supper. The four of them sat around the table while Sissy and Patty talked and talked. At one point, Miranda looked over at Patty’s husband and caught his eye and they both smiled. She understood now why he was so quiet and relaxed. It was a defense mechanism.
After Sissy left, with tears in her eyes and hugs for everyone, Miranda announced her own intentions.
“But you can’t stay in that musty old barn,” Patty protested when she heard. “Not tonight for sure. Why, it’s already dark out there. And that storm that was threatening all day yesterday is just about here.”
It was something Miranda knew she had to do, however. There was still a flashlight in her car, she said, and she’d found enough blankets in the donated boxes to keep three people warm.
“I’ll be fine. I will.” Miranda knew she uttered the words for her own sake as much as to reassure Patty. “If I do have a miserable night, you can say I told you so when I come by tomorrow to get some more of these things.”
Patty kept protesting until Miranda loaded up her car and pulled away. Even then, as Miranda looked back just before she turned the corner and drove out of sight, the postmistress stood in the street watching with a worried frown
Her arrival at the farm was eerily reminiscent of her first arrival over a week ago. Miranda stopped in front of the locked gate, dust and dead leaves blown about in the path of her headlights. When she opened the door and got out, she had two dogs hopping out to lift a leg in the ditch, and when she pushed open the gate, they both ran up the lane, barking joyously.
Miranda stood a moment in the lane and glanced around at the darkness that surrounded her. She still gave a shiver at the intense depth of it, and she knew that if she thought about it too long, she could easily freak herself out about it. Tonight, however, the dark didn’t intimidate her. Fear was no longer the ruling force in her life. She could conquer it—she had conquered it—and it would never again control her.
Luke’s truck was still parked along the side of the orchard as she drove in. Butch was sniffing around it and pawing morosely at the driver’s side door as if he expected Luke to open it and let him in. Miranda stopped and looked in the back. He had secured his backpack, sleeping bag and other equipment onto the truck bed with a bungee cord. If she left them out here, the rain would drench everything.
Miranda threw everything in her trunk, knowing they would come in handy, especially if she decided to stay more than just the one night. She drove slowly by the skeletal remains of the house. The lamppost by the garage made a yellow circle of light and the driveway had been torn up into ruts from the fire truck and emergency vehicles. As she continued on to the barn, Butch and Rufus ran alongside the car, sprinting ahead when she got there to wait by the side door.
When she shut off the engine, she left the headlights on. Her fingers curled around the flashlight that lay on the passenger seat. She took a deep breath and held it for a count of five. This was it. This was the test. How far had she come from the scared little girl who’d been terrified in a scary dark tunnel? As she let the breath out, she flicked off the headlights.
Darkness pressed in on all sides. The only sound was the wind whistling through cracks and crannies in the car. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the shapes and shadows that lurked in the inky night. The barn first, the slanted posts of the feed lot, the two dogs patiently waiting. The clouds overhead were more gray than black when you looked at them long enough, and through a thin sleeve of one she caught a glimpse of the moon.
Nothing. No panic, no sweaty palms. Miranda opened the door and stepped out, shutting it quickly behind her. Far in the distance lightning lit up the sky as the storm rolled closer. The ozone smell filled the air and mingled with the rich aroma of tilled soil and the sweet scent of clover.
Miranda laughed and Rufus ran up to her, delighted. “Good boy,” she greeted him. “Good, good dogs. And what a beautiful night it is.”
The storm thankfully held off until she’d settled into the loft, using Luke’s sleeping bag and a pile of blankets on the same bunk Luke had slept in. The sound of rain on the roof lulled her to sleep. She did wake once in the night, disoriented for a moment and cold. She considered turning on Luke’s camp stove to try to generate a little warmth but the memory of flames devouring the house made her reluctant to risk it. Instead, she invited Butch up to curl up next to her and settled Rufus at her feet. Cozy warm once again, she fell into the deepest, most dreamless sleep she’d had in years.
When the sun slanted through the large loft window, it fell directly on her face to wake her. Miranda turned over, stretched and looked about her amazed. Not only had she slept with no light on, she felt more refreshed than she ever had before.
She also felt more energized. Butch was already outside, barking at something. When she and Rufus came out, the German Shepherd came bounding up to greet them. Digging around in Luke’s things, she found some dog food and some trail mix to eat, then grabbed his canteen and headed to the well up at the house.
When she got there, her thirst dried up as she saw in bright daylight the damage that had been done by the fire. Almost nothing remained. A few blackened uprights, the stone platform of the porch, the chimney. She could see the charred remains of kitchen appliances like the stove and the sink, but anything burnable had turned into unrecognizable blackened piles of ash.
Did she really want to take on a restoration this huge? Maybe she should just sell it all to someone, some farmer who could bulldoze all the buildings and turn the orchard into a cornfield. Wouldn’t it be ironic that after how badly Harlan had wanted the property, his death might actually be part of the reason she sold it?
The sound of a car pulled her thoughts away and she turned to look up the drive. An old Chevy she’d never seen before was chugging toward her. As it drew closer, she noticed Patty’s husband in the driver’s seat. Next to him—Miranda squinted her eyes against the sun to see more clearly—sat Luke.
Chapter 21
When the car stopped, Mr. Carmichael touched the bill of his cap to greet her. Luke swing one leg out, then hopped upright with the help of a crutch. Closing the door behind him, he leaned in the open window to thank the driver and gave the door a final pat of farewell as the Chevy turned around and headed back.
Luke limped toward her, one arm in a sling and a crutch tucked under the other. Butch bounded toward his master with a joyous bark, almost knocking Luke down as the dog leapt up trying to lick his face.
“Whoa, whoa,” Luke laughed. “Down boy or you’ll send me back to
the hospital.”
He still had a grin on his face by the time he reached Miranda and as he stopped in front of her with a sheepish look, Miranda realized she had a smile on her face also.
“You held a barbeque without inviting me?” he asked.
“Don’t worry. I saved you some rabbit.”
Luke chuckled, but as he surveyed the blackened devastation in front of them, his words were more somber. “What are you going to do now? Move back to the big city?”
Miranda hadn’t really decided until that very moment, so she was almost as surprised as Luke when she answered, “No. There’s enough money left in the estate to rebuild. Something smaller this time, two or three bedrooms. No basement,” she added with emphasis.
He laughed. “It’ll take some time to get that done. It’s going to get pretty cold if you’re planning on camping in the barn all winter?” When Miranda looked at him quizzically, he explained, “Patty told me.”
“Patty?”
“Yeah, between her and Sissy I haven’t had a moment’s peace at the hospital. They brought by homemade goodies and cards and little stuffed animals. It was kind of embarrassing. And noisy. Especially while both women were there at the same time. Those two sure can talk.”
They both laughed then.
“They tell me you came by to visit while I was sleeping once?” Luke ducked his head to look at her, searching her face like he was trying to read something there.
Miranda flushed. “Yeah, I didn’t, you know, want to disturb you. The doc told me you were going to be okay and I’ve been kind of busy since then. I didn’t want to leave the dogs alone. I mean—”
It all sounded too lame. She bit her lip to keep from spewing out more nonsense.
“So,” Luke started slowly. “You not visiting me has nothing to do with my having been in prison once upon a time?”