The Last Chance Matinee

by Mariah Stewart

  He kissed her again and she forgot whatever else it was she had to thank him for.

  “See you on Saturday,” he said. “Go on in. It’s getting cold.”

  “Hey, just for the record, how many girls have you taken to the gun club on bluegrass night?”

  “You’re the first.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. That oughta tell you how special I think you are.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was kidding, but then he kissed the side of her cheek before he went to the car.

  Grateful that no one else was in the kitchen, Cara poured herself a glass of water and drank it down. She sat on the window seat and looked out at the dark woods and thought about the evening. The touch of Joe’s hand on her back as he’d passed behind her. The haunted look in his eyes as he told her about his father’s death and the deaths of those much-loved souls his father had taken with him into the next world. The depth of a friendship that had remained strong even under the most terrible of circumstances. The way Joe’s mouth had claimed hers, as if she’d been his all along. The way his arms felt around her, the warmth and the strength of his hands, the touch of his fingers, as he’d held her face.

  Somehow, she’d thought moving on would have been harder, would have stirred up much more angst and almost a kind of guilt, but Cara felt none of those things. Instead, she felt wanted and cared for, desired.

  For the first time since Drew had walked out on her, Cara felt like she was enough.

  “You were out late last night.” Des looked up as Cara came in from her run.

  “Not so late,” Cara said as she pulled off her gloves. The temperature had dropped overnight and was barely into the thirties. She poured a cup of coffee and tried to ignore the questions on Des’s face. “Joe gave me some estimates we need to go over. He gave me his opinions, but I don’t feel comfortable giving my okay without everyone knowing what’s going on. Oh, and Eddie the exterminator handed in his first bill.”

  “Why don’t we take our coffee into the library and talk there.” Des stood and grabbed her mug. “I need a refill.”

  “Why do we even have to talk about it?” Allie complained. “Cara’s in charge of getting the building redone, right? It’s her decision.”

  “We’re talking about a lot of money, Allie. I don’t feel comfortable spending it without you and Des knowing where it’s going.”

  “I agree. We all need to be on the same page.” Des started for the door. “Move your butt, Allie. It’s showtime.”

  Grumbling, Allie followed her sisters down the hall.

  “Where are Barney and Nikki?” Cara asked as they settled into cozy chairs.

  “They went on a hike about fifteen minutes ago. Nikki wanted to see the falls, and Barney took her. Can you imagine, in this freezing cold?” Allie shifted and pulled her legs up under her.

  “Oh God, I hope there are no bears,” Cara said.

  “Bears?” Allie scoffed. “Yogi? Boo-Boo? Smokey?”

  “It’s not a joke, Allie. There are bears all around here,” Cara said. “Joe told me.”

  “Oh, Joe told you. Well, then, that makes it true.” Allie rolled her eyes.

  “He was attacked right up there on the path where Barney and your daughter are walking.”

  “Attacked by a bear. Right.”

  “He was. He has these scars that run from here to here.” Cara demonstrated the location of Joe’s scars.

  “Is this secondhand information, or did you see these scars with your own eyes?” Allie pressed.

  “I saw them.”

  “So he must have taken his shirt off. . . .” Allie’s eyes danced with humor.

  “Yes, he did. And I don’t mind saying it was a fine sight to see. The guy is sculpted like a god, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are bears in these woods.”

  “I’m willing to bet that Barney knows when it’s safe,” Des said. “Besides, bears hibernate, and it’s really cold out.”

  “It was warm most of the week,” Cara reminded them. “They might have awakened.”

  “Okay, now you’re freaking me out.” Allie grabbed Cara’s arm. “Swear you’re not lying.”

  “Cross my heart,” Cara told her. “I saw the scars.”

  “I should go tell them to come back.” Allie stood.

  “If they’re not back in ten minutes, we’ll all go tell them,” Cara said.

  “I really think Barney’s lived here long enough to know when the bears wake up,” Des said, then paused. “I need to take some notes. Let me get my pad and a pen. My bag’s in the kitchen.”

  Des was back in a minute. “I’m expecting to hear from Dr. Trainor’s office anytime after nine, so we may be interrupted. I’m not sure if both dogs will be released this morning, but I’ll need to call their fosters and let them know.”

  “You mean Tattoo Guy and the sheriff.” Allie rested against the arm of the wingback chair.

  “Seth and Ben. You know their names,” Des said.

  “I know the sheriff, but I didn’t actually meet the other guy. Tattoo Guy. He looks like he belongs on Sons of Anarchy. I bet he rides a Harley,” Allie said. “Go on, Cara. Throw some big numbers at us.”

  “Let’s start with the bill from the exterminator.”

  Cara passed the bill to Allie, who barely looked at it before passing it on to Des.

  “This is for one week?” Des asked.

  “Yeah. Hopefully, as time goes on and more and more of the rodent populations are removed, he’ll need to make fewer stops at the theater,” Cara said, “but in the meantime, the mice and rats have got to go.”

  “Agreed.” Des was still looking at the bill. “I don’t see where we have a choice.”

  “Unless we want small, hairy things dashing across our feet,” Allie noted.

  “Speaking of small, hairy things, where’s Buttons?” Cara asked.

  “Hiking with Barney and Nikki. I told Barney to . . .”

  “. . . carry her if she started to look tired.” Allie rolled her eyes. “Des, we get it. You’re like a helicopter mom for dogs.”

  “Allie . . .” Des stared at her, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Nikki’s going to miss that dog when she leaves on Sunday,” Cara said.

  “I think the dog is going to miss her, too.” Des tapped her pen. “They’ve spent a lot of time together. Last night Nikki moved Buttons’s quilt into her room so they could sleep together.”

  “Maybe she’ll start bugging Clint for a dog when she gets back home. That’d drive him crazy,” Allie said with a smile.

  “Why would that make him crazy?” Cara asked.

  “He’s allergic to dogs.”

  “Well, make sure Nikki washes everything before she leaves,” Des cautioned. “The dander will travel home on her clothes.”

  “Oh, that would be too bad.” Allie’s smile never faded.

  “Yeah, poor Clint. All that sneezing and scratching,” Cara said.

  “He’d be so miserable,” Allie agreed.

  “So much for Clint and his allergies. Do we all agree to pay the exterminator as Cara suggested?” Des held up the bill.

  Allie and Cara nodded, and Des put the bill in the checkbook. “I’ll take care of it today. Next item . . .”

  They’d just finished talking about the plumber’s bill when they heard the back door open and the sound of little feet running down the hall. Seconds later, a white ball flew into the room and, panting, flung itself onto Des.

  “Well, someone had a good walk.” Des laughed.

  “She had a good carry, mostly,” Barney told them as she and Nikki followed the dog into the library. “She pooped out about halfway up the trail.”

  “Mom, you have to make the climb with me.” Nikki sat on the love seat across from Allie. “The waterfall is so beautiful. The way the water tumbles over the rocks—you have to see it, Mom. It’s, like, a mystical experience.”

  “Doubtful, pumpkin. I hear it’s a long way up
,” Allie told her. “And there are those bears.”

  “What bears?” Nikki asked.

  “Joe told Cara he was mauled by a bear up on that very trail,” Allie told her.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Barney dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “That was so long ago. Joe was just a kid. And the bear had cubs. Besides, it’s too early for them to be out of their caves.” She turned to Cara. “When did Joe tell you this?”

  “The other day. Oh, the lake. I forgot to tell you about the lake,” Cara said excitedly. “He took me to Compton Lake and we took a canoe—”

  “You had a date with Joe and you forgot to tell us?” Allie poked her. “What’s wrong with you? Stop holding out on us.”

  “There was so much excitement with the dogs, it slipped my mind.” Cara turned to Barney. “But speaking of holding out on us, why didn’t you tell us you owned a lake?”

  “A lake?” Des asked. “An entire lake?”

  Cara nodded. “A beautiful pristine lake surrounded by woods.”

  “Is that when Joe showed you his ‘scars’?” Allie’s fingers made quotation marks.

  “Yes. And before you ask, he pulled his shirt up to show me the scars only because I didn’t believe he was attacked by a bear.”

  “So how was the view?” Des asked.

  “Pretty amazing,” Cara replied.

  “Girls, please,” Allie deadpanned. “Not in front of the k-i-d.”

  Nikki laughed. “I know she’s talking about the view of Joe’s chest and not the woods. I’ll bet he looked fine, Aunt Cara.”

  Cara gave her a wink.

  “Okay, let’s get back to business here,” Allie said, then whispered to her daughter, “You’re too young to be noticing such things.”

  “I’m not blind,” Nikki muttered.

  “How did this conversation even begin?” Allie moaned.

  “We were talking about the falls,” Cara said. “And I agree with Nik. They really are something to see.”

  Des nodded in agreement.

  “Wait, Mom, are you the only person here who hasn’t seen the falls?” Nikki frowned. “Seriously? Everyone but you? The hidden falls of Hidden Falls?”

  “Yes, everyone but me. I’ll do it. Someday. Maybe.”

  “Mom, besides being a mystical experience, it’s great exercise.” Nikki leaned closer. “Something you don’t seem to be getting much of.”

  “What are you talking about?” Allie protested. “I walked all the way to the theater.”

  “Mom, you don’t get enough exercise. It’s not healthy.”

  “That’s because there’s no spin class. I’ll bet there’s no personal trainer within at least a hundred miles of this outpost,” Allie grumbled.

  Nikki took out her phone and sat on her mother’s lap. “These are the pictures I took this morning. Let me show you what you’re missing. . . .”

  Cara looked at the clock on the mantel. It was time to call Meredith and see how things were going back at her studio in Devlin’s Light. She knew Meredith was a highly capable assistant, and she was sure things were fine, but she wanted to be brought up-to-date on the business.

  Thinking back to last night and her conversation with Joe, she thought it might not be a bad idea to check into the possibility of opening a studio in Hidden Falls, even if only for the time she was here. After she made her call, maybe she’d check out the inside of the carriage house. It couldn’t hurt to take a look—just for the fun of it—and see if it could be suitable.

  Des and Nikki had taken Buttons to the park, Allie was taking a nap, and Barney was off with her friends. Cara had tried every door—from the big double doors in the front to each of the side doors and the back door—but all were locked. On a whim, she checked the hooks near the back door, and there was the key, clearly marked CARRIAGE HOUSE. Certain that Barney wouldn’t mind, Cara took it and began to try the locks, but it didn’t fit the lock on the front or back doors.

  “Third time’s the charm,” she murmured as the side door swung open. She stepped inside and looked around.

  There were marks on the floor where carriages had stood who knew how many years ago. Cara wondered what happened to them. Had they been sold along with the horses once the horseless carriage came to Hidden Falls? All that was left from the carriage era was a discarded wheel that stood against the back wall. There were windows across the back and both sides, but they were covered with dust and cobwebs, and little light passed into the space.

  She walked through the large, empty room, trying to picture it completely redone. The floor, being concrete, was hard as, well, cement. Hardwood or a thick pad under wall-to-wall carpet could rectify that. The walls could be painted white—actually, she thought, they might be white, but years of dust and dirt had darkened them. So white paint—or at the least, something light—and a more comfortable floor. Lights along the sides of the room rather than overhead to soften the effect. It could be done, if that was what she wanted to do. She had so much on her plate now with the theater, she wasn’t sure she was up to yet another renovation project. Still, she missed teaching. Maybe once the theater was further along she could seriously consider opening a studio here. It was a dream she wasn’t about to give up—she’d just shelve it for the time being.

  A narrow stairwell rose from the side wall, and Cara climbed the steps tentatively. Once upstairs, she found the second floor divided into several rooms, all much brighter than the carriage room below. Though the air still held a dusty chill, the sun spilled brightly through the tall windows. The room at the top of the steps was one large rectangle that clearly revealed that someone had once called this home. The kitchen took up the back wall, and the placement of furniture on strategically situated area rugs defined the other spaces. The living room furniture, arranged around a brick fireplace, was covered with sheets, but a peek underneath revealed a 1950s-style sofa and two chairs. The dining area was little more than a long farmhouse table that stood between the kitchen and the living room. A partially opened door on Cara’s left led to a bedroom, beyond which was a bathroom. Another bedroom was off the kitchen and a powder room off a small pantry. The apartment could be charming, she thought as she completed a second tour. Cara wondered who had lived here, and when.

  She opened a desk drawer in the living room, but found it empty except for a few paper clips and a yellow pencil that someone had anxiously gnawed. The wooden kitchen cabinets held two chipped yellow cups and a broken saucer. The door of a small refrigerator stood open, and a single glass stood upside down on the dull Formica counter next to the sink. A copper teakettle had been left atop the electric stove. Bookcases on either side of the fireplace were built into the wall, the books long gone except for a worn copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

  Cara went into the first bedroom and ran a finger over the top of the dresser where the dust was thickest, and wondered how long the apartment had been unoccupied. The bed was covered with a faded green spread that matched drapes bleached by the sun. She opened the door to the closet, but it was totally empty. The bathroom sink had rust stains and the plastic shower curtain stuck to the wall. The remnants of a white bar of soap had been left in the soap dish on the side of the tub next to a neatly folded hand towel.

  The second bedroom was bare of furniture, but there was a built-in window seat covered with a thick cushion. Cara sat and parted the checked curtains and looked out onto the woods. She shifted slightly on the cushion and felt something hard jab into her hip. She shifted again, but it was still there. She got up and turned the cushion over, expecting to find something on the seat, but nothing was there, so she unzipped the cushion and stuck her hand inside. Her fingers closed around a wooden object, and she pulled it through the opening.

  The box was made of rough pine, unpainted, smaller, but the same shape as a tissue box. There was no closure, so the lid opened easily. Inside Cara found a thick envelope and a handful of yellowed newspaper clippings folded together.

  She
unfolded the clippings, articles dated over a series of days, all relating to the death of Gil Wheeler. She read through the unemotional recounting of the incident as the reporter had written it.

  Gilbert Jefferson Wheeler, age 25, fell to his death from the rocks overlooking the falls for which this town—Wheeler’s hometown—was named. According to two witnesses, Wheeler had been sitting close to the edge of one of the largest rocks, and it appeared when he stood up, he misjudged his distance and slipped before either of his companions could reach out to save him.

  “It all happened so fast,” said Peter Wheeler, 22, brother of the deceased. “We just couldn’t get to him in time.”

  The second witness, Franklin Hudson, also 22, could not be reached for comment.

  Another clipping was the obituary, which was glowing in its praise of the young man, listing his accomplishments—academic and athletic—as a bragging parent might do.

  Cara was surrounded by an overwhelming sense of sadness for the Wheeler family as well as for Barney. It occurred to her that Fritz must’ve been mourning Gil’s death as much as Pete, if he’d been too upset to speak with the reporters.

  But then off he went to California with Nora, just a few days later. How odd was that?

  She opened the envelope and found several letters wrapped inside another. She unfolded the top one and began to read:

  F. ~

  I’m sending back your letter. I don’t ever want to see you or hear from you again. Not that I would anyway, since you’re leaving Hidden Falls with her. You’re just a liar and a cheat and I will always hate you for what you’ve done to me. I never should have believed you when you said you and she were just friends. It was just another lie, like “You’re the only girl for me.”

  I should have listened to my sister.

  J.

  “Whoa,” Cara said aloud. Looks like Dad did someone wrong. Curious, she opened the letter that had been folded inside the one from “J.”

  J. ~

  It’s really hard for me to write this letter. I don’t know how else to say it, so I’ll just say that I’m leaving for California on Tuesday morning with Nora. I know you will hate me now and that is the worst thing about this. I know you will think I lied to you, but every word was true. You are the best girl I ever knew. I’m sorry I can’t stay and be with you.