“Now comes the tough one, missy,” he said. “How’d he take the news? That you’re pregnant?”
She didn’t have to make anything up. “That’s easy. He appears to be thrilled.”
“That’s wonderful, June,” he said, and for once he didn’t tease. He’d been the one to examine her just last week and surprise her with the news that the pregnancy was advanced. Doctors weren’t infallible. “You really didn’t have any idea, did you?”
“It was the farthest thing from my mind.”
“I can’t imagine,” he said. “Susan and I knew Sydney was on the way when she was about three weeks gestation.”
“You’re an OB first and family practitioner second. You’re supposed to be obsessive about that. Plus, for whatever reason, I kind of figured I wasn’t going to ever have a baby. At least not as easily as this.”
John laughed loudly. “I bet you were pretty lazy about birth control.”
Stunned by his accuracy, she asked, “Now, why would you say that?”
“That’s what women who haven’t gotten caught always think.”
June almost had a heart attack when they drove into town. There were so many cars parked on Valley Drive and in the church and clinic parking lots, it resembled a town meeting. The last time she’d seen congestion like this, word had just hit town that a deathly handsome new doctor had come to the clinic to practice with June. Women came from miles around to catch a glimpse of John Stone.
“What the heck is going on?” she asked.
“Oh, as if you don’t know,” John said.
And then it became obvious. Everyone was inside the café it was virtually bursting at the seams. Her truck was parked across the street at the clinic where Jim must have left it, right next to her father’s truck.
There being no readily available parking spaces, John stopped the ambulance in the street, blocking a couple of pickups. “I’ll take it over to the clinic to clean and restock in a little while. I’m not going to miss a second of this,” he said, opening his door and jumping out.
“John,” she protested. “The owners of these trucks might want to get out.”
“Not until after they’ve heard your story,” he shot back, heading into the café.
The last thing she wanted to do was go in there, but worry about what might be happening to Jim propelled her out of the vehicle and into the café. A roar of “hellos” and “heys” and a general cheer went up at the sight of her. The crowd parted, and as she passed through the throng, men patted her on the back and women gave her shoulders brief squeezes. At the front of the café stood the guest of honor, leaning back against the counter and holding a coffee cup. The preacher and police chief flanked him on one side, her father and Sam Cussler on the other. They all held coffee cups as if they were tankards.
Jim did not appear to have been harmed in any way.
“Well, there’s our girl,” Elmer boasted excitedly. “Give her a cup, George, but don’t put any liquor in it. She’s pregnant!”
“Dad!” she gasped, appalled. She immediately began to color and glared at Jim. But he simply shrugged his shoulders helplessly. More than a few chuckles rose from the crowd.
George passed a cup over the counter to Elmer, who passed it to June. She looked into the cup, which appeared to have milk in it. She made a face. She hated milk.
“Sorry, June,” Elmer said. “I tried to sit on it, but I got a little excited. I thought I was going to the grave without a grandchild. Have you had an ultrasound? Do we know the sex yet?”
“None of your business!”
“When’s the wedding?” someone from the crowd asked in a shout.
“When’s the baby due?” came another shout.
“Where’d you find this guy? He ain’t from around here,” asked yet another.
June twisted her head around, trying unsuccessfully to find the people responsible for the questions. But her glance took in a great deal—John’s wife, Susan, the clinic nurse; Birdie Forrest, her late mother’s best friend and June’s godmother; Burt and Syl Crandall from the bakery; Charlotte Burnham, her retired nurse; Jessie Wiley, her secretary and receptionist. A great many friends and patients. The clinic must be closed.
Elmer was busily circulating with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, pouring a dollop into a few coffee cups, including Jim’s. Passing the bottle off to someone in the crowd, he leaned toward June and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He gave a nod in Jim’s direction and a wink. “He held up pretty well, June, facing everyone solo.”
“Dad,” she said pleadingly. “The poor guy!”
“Poor guy, hell. Look at him! When have you ever seen anyone more puffed up?”
Jim smiled and a chuckle shook his shoulders, but he was not in any way puffed up. He was being a damned good sport, and she was going to owe him big time. But what if he bolted? She wasn’t sure what bothered her more, that he could take all of this pressure so unflinchingly or the possibility that he’d tear out of here.
An arm stretched over June’s shoulder with an empty cup. “Hey, Doc,” John begged.
“Get John here a little something,” Elmer commanded. “He’s going to need it if his partner’s getting married and taking maternity leave!”
Again, cheers rose with a laughing roar. June’s cheeks flamed.
“Now, everyone taken care of?” Elmer asked. “Because I’d like to toast the young couple and…”
“They’re not that young,” someone yelled.
Elmer raised his cup. “To my daughter, her intended and my grandchild!”
“Here, here!” The crowd heartily intoned. Many a drink was tossed back.
June unhappily sampled her milk, then said to Elmer, “Isn’t it a little early for that?”
“I’d say we’re all a little late,” he returned, his eyes pointedly fixed on her middle.
There was a part of her quite grateful for the fun and games; she’d anticipated scorn. She was pretty far along in years to be an unmarried woman, with a secret lover to boot. She mentally acknowledged that, then pushed it to the back of her mind because the teasing was likely to go on for a while, and it was already annoying. Plus, this teasing could easily turn to badgering if she didn’t appear before them reciting vows. But every time she thought about making that kind of commitment, her face lit up like a firecracker and her insides twisted into a knot.
“When’s the wedding?” Harry asked them.
June stammered so Jim answered, keeping an eye turned to June, who squirmed in discomfort. “We haven’t had time to even discuss the when and where. You’ll have to give us time on that.”
“Doesn’t look like you have a whole lot of time,” someone said.
“You’d better step up to the plate, young man,” someone else roared.
“Now,” Jim said, holding up a hand. “You’re going to have to leave that to June, and it should be clear just from looking at her that she’s still a little stunned by this whole thing.”
“You’re not hedging, are you?” Elmer asked pointedly.
“Absolutely not,” Jim assured him. “Patience isn’t really a virtue around here, is it?”
“Was I mistaken, or did I hear she’s well along?” Elmer asked.
Jim lifted his cup. “She’s not going to get any less pregnant while we discuss the particulars,” he said, drawing laughter from the crowd. “We’ll take care of it when the time is perfect.”
She couldn’t help but feel warmed by his rescue, when it must be puzzling to him that she wasn’t rushing him off to the altar.
“What?” a familiar voice demanded. June’s godmother separated herself from the crowd and stood before June. “Did I hear right?” Birdie asked. “You don’t have a wedding date?”
“Birdie, we’ve barely had time to talk about it,” June repeated. “We’ll come up with something and let you know.”
“Over my dead body,” Birdie said. “You’re the closest thing to a daughter I have. And there’s going to be a weddin
g!”
June reached for Birdie’s hand. “You know, you really need to leave this up to us,” she said pleadingly.
“You just leave this to me,” Birdie said, giving her hand a reassuring pat.
But June was not reassured. She cast a worried glance at Jim, but he only shook his head as if to say, “This is your town…and your hesitation.”
Then June felt the baby fluttering inside of her. A smile found its way to her lips. A smile that Birdie completely misinterpreted.
“See?” Birdie said. “Everything is going to be wonderful.”
About a half hour later, after many hugs and congratulatory kisses, June left the café with Jim. “You held up very well in there,” she said.
“You didn’t do so well,” he said. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that there’s something you seem to be avoiding.”
She took his hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s not because it’s you. It’s the very idea.”
“What are you saying?”
“Only that I’d appreciate your patience. And that we should talk about it before we do it.”
“Unlike the way we went about getting pregnant…”
“I don’t mean to put you in a bad position,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to be married, to have a family. But I’ve been on my own a long time. I’m set in my ways. That’s probably why the first time you mentioned marriage, something in me just froze up.” She reached for his hand. “I need to get comfortable with the idea. I do love you.” He didn’t look at her and didn’t respond. “Hey. Did you hear what I said?”
But he was staring down the street toward Cussler’s garage. Sitting out front, tilted a bit to one side, was the dilapidated old truck, weighted down with all the Davis family’s possessions.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
Inside the café the partying died down to a quiet roar, an occasional burst of laughter, the clatter of glassware in the background. Elmer, Sam and Harry sat in a booth, finishing their libations, which by now were down to coffee. People were drifting off, having checked out and toasted June and Jim.
“I suppose I ought to get over to the clinic and see if John needs me. I don’t imagine June’s going to be much good to him today.”
“I heard her say she had to take Jim out to Myrna’s for a looking over,” Sam said.
“I’d like to see how that goes, but I wasn’t invited,” Elmer said, hefting himself out of the booth. “We having poker at the parsonage on Thursday, Harry?”
“You bet. Is everyone in? Even Myrna?”
“I’m sure wild horses wouldn’t keep her away.”
Harry made a face and shook his head. “Nobody loves Myrna more than me, but if she doesn’t miss a poker night one of these weeks, I’m going to have to file for bankruptcy.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Reverend,” Elmer said, making his departure. It was a well known fact that Myrna had been cleaning up at poker for many a year. She rarely had a downslide.
“Is the mail dependable around here, Sam?”
“I wouldn’t know, Harry. No one ever writes me.”
“I can’t tell if it’s the post office or my friend. I made a loan to someone a few months ago and, well, I know he’s good for it…. Or maybe he’s not and I was foolish. Anyway, he said he sent it, but—”
“Don’t say another word, Harry,” Sam said, pulling a thick wad of bills out of his pocket and folding out some twenties. “I can give you a little something to tide you over.”
“That’s awful nice of you, Sam. I hate to take advantage….”
“Think nothing of it, Harry. Since Justine passed away, I have no one and nothing to spend it on.” He counted off a hundred dollars and put it on the table in front of Harry. “Anytime I can be of help.”
“Much appreciated, my friend. I’ll get it back to you the second my check arrives.”
Three
Perhaps the most beloved resident in Grace Valley was Myrna Hudson Claypool. June’s aunt Myrna had lived in the valley longer than any other resident, having been brought by her parents at the age of four. Her father, Charles Hudson, had been a successful Bay Area banker who had built a mansion for his much younger wife, where they could live in comfort, raise a large family and entertain lavishly. In so doing, Charles had founded a town, though he didn’t get to live in it long. Eight years after moving into Hudson House, Myrna’s mother died giving birth to her second child, Elmer, and two years after that, when Myrna was barely fourteen and Elmer but two, Charles joined his wife in eternity.
For the next seventy years Myrna lived an eccentric and fascinating life. Rather than playing with other little girls or being courted by young men, she raised her younger brother from infancy and saw him through a college education and medical school on the generous funds left to them by their father. All through this period of single parenting, she devoured books; reading saved her from loneliness. When Elmer was gone from the house to further his education, she began writing novels—first Gothic, then mysteries and finally suspense stories. By the age of eighty-four she had published more than sixty books and was still hard at it.
Though no one knew the measure of Myrna’s wealth, she had extended her generosity to the town as though it was a part of her family. She gave a piece of land for a town cemetery, carried a million-dollar note to fund the building of the clinic, and just last summer at the Fourth of July picnic, surprised June with a brand new ambulance. She employed the sixty-five-year-old bickersome Barstow twins, Endeara and Amelia, simply because no one else would and without work they would be destitute. And she did this despite the fact that they weren’t much help around the house and couldn’t cook any better than Myrna, whose cooking was legendary for its inedible quality, a fact that had never prevented her from having large dinner parties.
One of the quirkiest and most entertaining stories about Myrna was her marital history. She didn’t indulge until she was in her forties and then married a stranger to the town. Morton Claypool was a traveling salesman who loved to read, thus their attraction to each other. He spent little enough time in Grace Valley, which appealed to Myrna as well, she being an older matron and quite set in her ways. Then after twenty years, Morton went off and didn’t return.
That she was quite piqued by this disappearance Myrna kept mostly to herself for a couple of reasons. First, to her wifely chagrin, months had passed before she’d even noticed he hadn’t returned home. And second, she suspected another woman, a rather embarrassing fact. Rather than let it upset her unduly, she lifted her chin and wrote her way out of the funk of a disappeared husband. Literally. In many of the books that followed Morton’s departure, a murderous wife gets even with a philandering husband by killing him. Book after book, the murders varied in style but somehow get more gruesome with each telling. The first one she wrote for personal vengeance at being jilted, but the subsequent ones were for pure entertainment. The town thrived on both the books and the conjecture.
Then bones were found in her garden, an event that threatened to topple Myrna and her writing career. Speculation grew into an accusation and the assistant district attorney looked at pressing charges.
The bones turned out to be from more than one skeleton, eliminating the possibility that they were Morton’s. But during that scare, June, Elmer, Myrna and her attorney, John Cutler, all began investigating Morton’s disappearance in earnest. Their efforts were not rewarded; Morton seemed to become “more missing” all the time.
June explained this to Jim as they drove to Myrna’s house. “We learned that six months after departing from Grace Valley, he retired and drew a pension, but it was mailed to a post office box. He continued to have a portion of his pension withheld to pay social security while the pension lasted, but the company he’d worked for went bust and the pension dried up. Then there was no record of his death or of his collecting social security. Poof.”
“Your aunt must have been very upset,” Jim said.
“Well…um…
You’ll understand this better when you get to know her a little, but no, Myrna didn’t seem to be very upset. She was a little miffed that the sheriff’s department dug up her yard looking for a body and said, ‘They’re all going to feel so stupid when this is over.’ I was upset, almost unconsolable, bursting into tears at the mere thought of my precious little old aunt going to jail, but as we learned later, all that crying probably had more to do with being pregnant than being distraught. My father was fit to be tied. Tom Toopeek was in a nasty mood about the whole thing. But Myrna held up well, never doubting for a second that she’d be vindicated. In fact, last time we talked she hadn’t even given up writing the ‘missing husband capers.’” June sighed. “You’d think she’d have learned by now.”
Though June said that, truthfully she wouldn’t have Myrna any other way. She could be so wonderfully oblivious, so unshakable. Doubtless the murdered spouse tales would go on indefinitely, getting only more shocking.
Endeara answered the door, but behind her, peering out of the kitchen, was Amelia. Endeara stared up at Jim—he was more than six feet tall and very broad shouldered—and June could have sworn the woman swooned slightly. Amelia’s sigh was audible all the way from the kitchen. It was an extremely rare occurrence to find them both at the house at the same time. They quarreled so much that Myrna insisted they job share, coming to the house one at a time.
There they all stood, June and Jim on the front porch, Endeara and Amelia staring soulfully at the handsome man beside June. “Are you going to invite us in?” June asked, but neither of them moved an inch.
June heard the click-click-clicking of her aunt’s shoes on the hardwood floors. Myrna pulled off her glasses and let them dangle around her neck as she came around Endeara. “For goodness sake,” she complained, gently pushing her maid out of the doorway. “Come in, darling, come in. This must be your man.” Myrna, perhaps five foot one, stood aside so they might enter. Her white hair was a little springier than usual. She’d fixed a large bun on the top of her head with her pencil stuck through it, but it rebelled and little curls escaped around her face and ears.