“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.” Luke sobbed even harder.
“That’s what you said the last time I found you wandering around on my property. I think you need more incentive to remember next time.” Frank raised the shotgun to his shoulder. I began climbing down the tree as quickly as I dared. I hoped I could startle him and knock him off balance so Luke could make a break for it.
“Sir, I suggest you lower your weapon.” Now it was Graham’s voice cutting through the night. Frank’s face was awash in a beam of bright light from Graham’s flashlight. He had his service weapon drawn and pointed at Frank, and the look on his face was capable and no-nonsense. I felt my knees giving way as I realized I wasn’t going to have to figure out how to help Luke on my own. I clung to the tree, stayed out of the way and watched.
“I’m standing my ground. I got a right to deal with intruders on my property, especially ones who are interested in my sugaring secrets,” Frank said.
“And I have a responsibility to protect the public. This child may be trespassing but you will be hard-pressed to make a case for him being a threat to you.”
“That kid needs to be taught a lesson, along with the rest of his family. Not a lick of sense in the whole bunch.”
“Sir, if you don’t lower your weapon, I will shoot you and then I will arrest you. You’re worried about your privacy from an eight-year-old kid crossing into your woods. Imagine how much you’re going to like it when every law enforcement officer in the area is trooping through your house and outbuildings shooting video and pawing through your possessions.” Graham took a wider stance in the snow and adjusted his grip on his weapon. Frank stood with the shotgun to his shoulder for another second and then lowered it.
“The cops won’t be there every time you forget your promises, boy. I’d be more careful next time if I were you.” Frank whistled for Beau, who trotted over to his master, then backed up and vanished into the dark. Graham holstered his weapon, stepped to Luke’s side, and pulled him to his feet. Luke buried his face in Graham’s jacket and wrapped his arms around him. Graham embraced him back then looked up into the tree.
“Are you all right up there, Dani?” I scrambled down from my hiding place.
“I was already hiding up there when the hostilities started.”
“I’m sure you were saving the element of surprise in case things got even worse.”
“I was. I was going to jump on him if I saw him put his finger on the trigger.”
“I know. Not that it would have made much difference. You’re small enough that he wouldn’t have been dissuaded even if you landed on his head. He would have flicked you off like a deerfly.”
“Somehow I still feel like I was cowardly. Like I should have done more.”
“A good police officer knows when he or she needs backup. In my professional opinion you did the smart thing. I’m glad I came along when I did.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I was halfway down the hill already when you went tumbling past. You look pretty good for someone who was doing about thirty miles an hour down a hill. The way those bushes were switching your backside it was like you had insulted their families.” Graham smiled at me and brushed some leaves off my jacket.
“Would you say that looked anything like I was one of those people in Scandinavia who heat up in a hot tub then roll in the snow before hitting each other with little branches?”
“Aren’t they usually naked?”
“Well, yes. But other than that did you notice a similarity?” I felt myself blushing and I didn’t want to pursue the conversation any more than necessary but all I could think about was my mother’s phone call. Now what else was it she had said?
“Without you being naked, I’m not sure I can picture what you are saying. Do you want to go back up to the top and try again?” Graham asked, panting just a bit.
“No. It was hard enough coming down that hill with my clothes on. I’m not about to attempt it without them. You’ll just have to use your imagination.”
“Believe me, I am.” Graham winked and I felt like I was in way over my head. Not that it takes much for that to happen at my height. Graham took me by one hand and Luke by the other and led us both back to the campsite. Luke burst into a fresh round of tears when he spotted his mother tossing another log on the fire.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” she asked. Graham and I both explained what had happened with Frank. Mindy’s face glowed red in the firelight.
“That bastard. I knew he was crazy but I didn’t think even he would go as far as that.”
“I think he was just posturing. But I wouldn’t cross his property line again. I think you need to keep the kids right away from there.”
“I’ll do more than that. If he even so much as speaks to one of us again, I’ll kill him.”
Ten
Considering what all had happened with Frank, it took some doing but after a while Mindy managed to settle down and all the kids got busy roasting marshmallows over a campfire burnt down to perfect coals. Even with the sugar rush, one by one the kids started nodding off over their toasting sticks and Mindy hustled them toward the tents. Mindy, Graham, and I took turns getting up from the warmth and light of the fireside to quiet the few restless kids. Before too long Mindy herself was dozing and almost pitched face-first into the coals.
“That’s my cue to go to bed. Will you two be all right if I turn in?” Mindy raised her eyebrows at me and wriggled them in a way that I expect meant something but really just made her look like the whole camping ordeal had caused her to develop a twitch. When I didn’t seem to catch on she tried again. “You won’t be wanting a chaperone for whatever you’ll be getting yourselves up to, will you?” I felt my cheeks flash with heat and not from the campfire. Not only did it sound like the church organist was encouraging fornication, the look on her face said she’d be happier to stay and help.
“I think we can handle things on our own.” Graham’s tone was no nonsense, like he’d slipped back into cop mode. Mindy took the hint and hustled off to her tent without another word, suggestive or otherwise. “You’ve got to wonder what makes some people tick,” he said in a low voice, his lips pressed up near my ear as soon as the sound of Mindy’s tent zipper buzzed through the quiet night air.
“She means well,” I said, not sure I believed it.
“She was rude and I could tell she made you feel flustered.” Graham scootched a little closer on the log we were sharing.
“She’s had a tough day. You can’t hold it against her.”
“Yes I can. I’d prefer to be the one making you feel flustered.” I swallowed hard, having no idea what to say. Piper would have thought of something sassy and flirtatious. Celadon would have stuck out her hand and asked him to show her a ring. Even my mother would have just started chatting about the way the stars were aligned for romance.
But me, I was tongue-tied and feeling so dizzy I thought I might just pitch over backward into a snowbank. It wasn’t like I didn’t think Graham was interesting. I just felt like we didn’t know each other well enough to go pursuing the sorts of things Mindy was hinting at. Before I had to decide what to say I heard another tent zipper and a small head popped out through the flap. Then the rest of a small squirrel scout slipped out and looked at us from beside the tent.
Even from a distance in the dark the child’s body language said misery. Slumped posture and heaving shoulders looked like sobbing to me. I scootched down the log and waved the child over to sit between us. By the time the little girl had reached us, the tears were streaming down her face.
“What’s wrong, Molly?” I asked, giving her a quick once-over. She didn’t appear to be missing any parts but with all the layers it was hard to be certain.
“I miss my mom,” she plunked down between us and pressed her face into my jacket. It was a
good thing my wardrobe was as low maintenance as Celadon had complained it was. Otherwise, I would have been worried about what the girl was depositing all over me. “I want to go home.”
“I think you’re homesick. You know a lot of people have that happen.”
“No one else in the squad does.” She looked up at me and I could tell she was embarrassed as well as sad. “The rest of them think I’m a big baby.”
“Do I look like a big baby?” I asked.
“Kind of. Well, at least you don’t really look like a grown-up.”
“No matter how I look, I know just how you feel.”
“You do?”
“I do. It happens all the time.”
“It does?”
“Yup. As a matter of fact, when I went away to college I thought I would die of homesickness. I was so ill every day for the first two weeks of freshman year I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t sleep. I lost ten pounds.” I wasn’t just making up stories to make her feel better. I had been so ill I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stay. My roommate tried to get me to go to the infirmary but I couldn’t let them call my family. My father hadn’t wanted me to go so far away to school but I had insisted. At the time I felt like homesickness was my punishment for disappointing him by going against his wishes.
“You must have been really sad.”
“I was. But eventually I got to like college and I had a lot of fun.” At least until my father died of a heart attack at home in the sugar bush during my senior year. That had brought homesickness back with a vengeance. I lost more weight I didn’t have to spare, too. By the time I got home for the funeral I was dehydrated as well since I couldn’t even keep liquids down. But Molly didn’t need to hear that.
“How did you fix it?” Molly wiped her nose on the back of her mitten.
“I decided that home would always be there and that the experience at college wouldn’t. Just like this chance to go camping in the middle of the winter won’t be something you can do every day. Home will be there tomorrow.”
“So you are saying I should try to have fun while I can?”
“I’ve noticed telling other people what to do is usually a big waste of time. I’m just telling you how I solved my problem. You can try it if you want to.” Molly looked at me and slid off the log.
“You really don’t seem like a real grown-up.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Will you tuck me back in?” Molly offered me her hand covered in the nose-wiped mitten. When I reached out to take it in mine it reinforced to me how much of an adult I really was. Back in college I probably wouldn’t have been able to grab a hold of it without feeling squeamish.
“Sure thing.” Two hastily invented bedtime stories later Molly was asleep and I was back on the log with Graham trying desperately to warm up. I was so cold I didn’t feel anything but grateful when he moved in closer and draped his arm over my shoulder.
“You handled that really well,” Graham said.
“I was telling the truth. I get terribly homesick. The whole family does. Why do you think none of us have moved out?”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Molly’s right. I’m probably not a real adult.”
“Loving your family and feeling passionately connected to your home is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Sometimes I feel a little stunted and I’m not just talking about my height. Is it normal to be so attached?”
“I wish I knew.” Graham turned his face away from me and toward the fire instead. I was sort of glad. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see his eyes when he sounded so lost.
“Sounds like you haven’t ever been homesick yourself.”
“I haven’t.”
“Lucky you.” I said it as a joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“That’s one way of looking at it.” He turned back toward me and I could see it was no time for jokes or for clinging to a tree root at the shallow end of the emotional pond. I decided if this relationship was worth pursuing, it was time to let go of safety and discover where things might drift.
“But it wasn’t your way, was it?” I placed my hand on the canvas of his insulated pants. Even through my mitten and his trousers I could make out the warmth and closeness of him physically. I hoped my words hadn’t ruined the chance to feel close in other ways, too.
“You’re right about that.” Graham placed his hand over mine and squeezed. “My mother was an alcoholic and she lost custody of me for neglect when I was a toddler. My father was never more than a stranger’s name on my birth certificate. By the time I was old enough to remember anything I was a ward of the state. I bounced around from foster home to foster home.”
“That must have been rough.”
“It was. I never got to feel like any place was enough of a home to get sick over.”
“That explains why you want to come home to your wife and kids every night.”
“It also explains why I love camping. I went to camps paid for by the state during the summer for several years. I even worked as a counselor when I was older. At camp, everyone was only living there temporarily instead of just me.” And right then, that’s when my heart broke. From sadness, from shame. Thinking about the contrast between what Graham hadn’t had any of and what I’d had in excess left a lump the size of a biscuit in my throat. I thought of how frustrated I had been lately with everyone sticking their noses into my love life and my business dealings and I felt sick. I usually thought of myself as a grateful person, someone who counted her blessings and numbered them in the thousands. But at that moment I just felt like a birthday girl who took a tire iron to a car because the gift was the wrong color.
“I wish I could somehow change all that for you. All kids deserve better.”
“You know what they say. You have two chances to enjoy a happy childhood; by having one yourself or by providing one for your own kids.”
“You’re going to make a wonderful father one day.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” He squeezed me a little tighter. “You’re shivering.”
“I think I’ve turned completely purple.”
“Your lips definitely have. Let’s see if there’s some way we can warm them up.”
Eleven
It was just past noon by the time I got home from Mindy’s. Even though the only body parts Graham had tended to were my lips, I felt a little like I needed to sneak back into the house. After all, I didn’t want to report anything to Celadon. Grandma was in the hall when I opened the door. She took one look at me and shook her head.
“Mindy called and told me about the confrontation with Frank but you look even more worn out than she sounded. You didn’t stay up too late getting into mischief, did you?” Grandma pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket, spit daintily in its center and reached out to rub my face with it. “Why don’t you take a hot shower and put on some lip balm while your sister and I finish Sunday dinner. We’ve baked a ham.”
“With maple-apricot glaze?” My own spit started to spurt at the thought of it.
“But of course. Don’t be long,” Grandma said. I sprinted up the stairs to the second floor in search of a shower. With their pitch they would never meet code today but the stairs do help to keep my backside in shape. I feel grateful to the original builder every time swimsuit season rolls around. I may not have a lot on top but I don’t have what you wouldn’t want on the bottom either.
My bedroom stood at the end of the long hall. It was the least desirable when we were teenagers because it was the farthest from the bathroom. And it had the most places where the floorboards gave a warning creak when you tried to sneak in late. Back then I tried desperately to trade with one of my siblings but they refused.
Our bathrooms are old. Not harvest gold sinks old or even pink and turquoise tile old. They are indoor
-plumbing-is-the-newest-thing old. The second-floor bathroom was actually scouted for a historical-movie set. The toilet flushes with a chain dangling from a box mounted to the wall. The tub is big enough to bathe three children at the same time. Can you guess how I know? Wasting water is a sin. Not enough of a sin to install a low-flow toilet, but enough of one to see no reason not to share the bathwater with someone if you shared the same mud puddle earlier in the day.
The shower is a handheld affair and makes for a bit of a juggle in the winter if you want to keep any hot water aimed at your shivering body while you shave your legs. I usually just give up smooth legs for winter. Not only was it not worth the showering difficulties, it helped keep me warmer when I wasn’t in the shower, too. A real win-win in my book. It was one of the few real upsides to being single in New Hampshire in the winter. No one could be relied on to start my car on a bitter morning or to scrape it after a storm but I didn’t have to take anyone else’s ideas of beauty into account when I made my personal grooming decisions either.
I wrenched on the taps and heard the creaking, groaning, shuddering that contributes to Mom’s belief that the house is haunted. She keeps threatening to invite a team of crack paranormal investigators to come check the place out. I tested the water for temperature and shed my camping attire. I finished scrubbing off whatever had gotten on, then toweled dry and headed to my room for a change of clothes.
As in all the rooms in this end of the house, the ceilings were high and the light streamed through wavy, bubbled-glass windows. My room looked off toward the west and the vegetable garden, now tucked up for winter under a thick layer of shredded maple leaves. This part of the house dated to the 1870s. For around two hundred years, generations of family members put their own unique stamp on the house by adding wings and turrets and conservatories.
By the time my grandparents acquired responsibility for the place, they were all out of ideas for additions and turned to the landscaping and community projects. Which is why so many endowments have sprung up around town. We are always building something, even if it is only a castle in the air or a scholarship fund.
Maple Mayhem (A Sugar Grove Mystery) Page 10