Just Over the Mountain

  “Uh-oh. I hope I haven’t started something…”

  “It’s a good thing you did, Harry, if he’s going around telling people we’re dating, when nothing could be more inaccurate. I’m going to hunt him down and give him a piece of my mind, before he ruins my reputation!”

  Harry put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He grinned and seemed to actually get a bit taller. “Well, then, if you’re not actually seeing him, do you suppose we might—”

  “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry. Can you keep a secret? I’m completely unavailable. I am spoken for, as it turns out. Just not by Chris.”

  “Oh. Well, then, who is the lucky man?”

  “That’s the secret, Harry. Not only can’t I tell you who, you must not tell a soul that I have a special man in my life. Not a soul. I’m counting on your pastoral discretion here.”

  He made a face. “Sometimes it sucks being a pastor.”

  Sixteen

  The Thursday-night Graceful Quilters were in for a shock. They were expecting to finish their heirloom quilt just in time for the fair, but instead they would be entertaining a guest.

  Sarah Kelleher had contacted Birdie and asked if she could speak to the quilters. She wanted help with a problem she was having with Blythe, though Blythe was about as far from being a fabric and needle type as one could be. Blythe was more the pick-and-shovel type and had worked beside Daniel from the beginning. Still…

  “There are a few little enclaves in town that seem to anchor Grace Valley,” Sarah explained to Birdie. “This group is one. Judge Forrest’s poker table is another. The Presbyterian Women’s League is another. I just want to talk to someone who will help me keep Blythe from moving away. And I’m in a terrible hurry.”

  Birdie was not one to take credit for such influence, but neither was she naive enough to suggest it didn’t exist. Calling the quilting group an enclave was a kindness. It was more of a clique, made up of the police chief’s wife, as well as his mother, the town doctor, a superior court judge’s wife, a county social worker who knew where every legal button was and how to push them, and little Jessie Wiley, who some believed would study medicine and perhaps be the next town doctor one day. Yes, they could be a formidable group. But how in the world were they to convince a person to stay in Grace Valley, if leaving was what she wanted to do?

  “When they hear the story, they’ll want to help,” Sarah assured her.

  “I can’t predict the outcome,” Birdie said. “But these women are my friends and they’ll listen to you politely. That much I can promise.”

  So Sarah went home and made the most delicious fudge cake imaginable as her offering. She was already waiting with Birdie when the first of the group, Philana and Ursula Toopeek, arrived. To say they were surprised would be an understatement. Philana said hello and stared shyly at her hands. Ursula, whose standard for marriage was high, lifted her chin and glared. “Save your anger, Mrs. Toopeek,” Sarah said sweetly. “When I tell the story, you’ll find no reason for it. And I’ve brought a delicious cake.”

  June came next. She was confused by Sarah’s presence. It had only been a few days since she’d visited the woman’s home with news that Blythe was packing. “Sarah, what are you doing here? Is Daniel all right?”

  This made Sarah smile, for she knew she could count on the town doctor to put judgments aside and show concern where concern was due. “Better every day, June. He’s anxious to get back to work.”

  “Not too fast,” the doctor warned.

  Jessie was just behind June. Jessie’s own mother had died when she was young and she’d been raised as the only child of an eccentric artist father. When she came to quilting, it was like coming to all her surrogate mothers. Jessie didn’t really know Sarah, though she’d seen her at town meetings and events. But she knew of her because she was a part of the art world and acquainted with Jessie’s father. “Sarah,” she greeted in thinly veiled disbelief. “Have you joined the quilting circle?”

  “Unfortunately, no, Jessie. I’ve just come for a visit. How is your father doing?”

  “He’s madly painting, so the answer must be ‘good.’”

  “Of course.”

  The last to arrive was Corsica Rios. She came in in a whirlwind, straight from her job in Social Services, toting her huge case-purse, chattering about just experiencing the longest day she’d had in months. She said a cheery hello to every quilter until her eyes fell on Sarah. Then her expression turned dark and unwelcoming.

  “Is the coffee ready, Birdie?” Sarah asked somewhat nervously.

  “It is.”

  “May I have a cup? For courage? Ladies, I’ve come to ask your help. We can’t let Blythe leave Grace Valley. Although Daniel’s putting an angry face on his feelings, he’d be lost without her.”

  The cups were stacked by the electric pot and Sarah helped herself. The voice behind her must have been that of Corsica. “You hadn’t considered that before?” Sarah’s back stiffened in discomfort. She had been through an awful lot for Daniel and Blythe. It was a good thing she had a forgiving nature.

  She turned back to the uneasy group. “Can we sit in a circle, like you do for quilting? And I’ll tell you the whole story, the whole truth about it even though to do so breaks a solemn promise I made.”

  “Get your coffee or tea, everyone,” Birdie said. “I promised Sarah you’d listen, but I didn’t promise anything beyond that.”

  So the story began.

  About two years earlier, Sarah had sought out Blythe’s help in training two saddle horses she wanted to keep on her property for her grandchildren. Sarah had known nothing about horses and needed a full education in order to feed and care for them. But she’d never been shy about taking on some huge project. Inexperience was no excuse!

  Blythe helped her some, Daniel helped her some, and she found herself attracted to Daniel. But so what? She never let it show. He was a married man.

  Still, he kept coming around, long after Sarah was doing fine on her own. Finally she had to confront the situation head-on. “I told him, I can’t have this, Daniel. You’re a married man and I have strong feelings about that.”

  Someone in the quilting circle groaned. Sarah wasn’t sure who but she narrowed down the culprit to Ursula or Corsica. She let it slide.

  “He only said, ‘It’s not the way you think it is.’ I fully expected him to tell me his wife didn’t understand him or some other nonsense, but before he would tell me a word he asked a question. If he were not a married man, could I be persuaded to keep his company? An odd thing to ask, isn’t it? He’d lived in Grace Valley with his wife for over thirty years! I answered that if he were a single man I might consider a date, a dinner or two, but I couldn’t promise anything. I’ve been divorced for years. I’ve been quite satisfied with my life, independent of a spouse.” She smiled and for a moment the women could see the light she had from within, the beauty and gentleness that Daniel might have been drawn to. “I had never been lonely. I had never wanted another husband. But Daniel was persistent. And he told me that he and Blythe were not married, nor had they ever been. They are brother and sister.”

  June actually gasped. Jessie’s mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. Corsica made a sound of distaste, Philana reached for Ursula’s hand and Birdie said, “That can’t be!”

  “Oh, but it’s true. They haven’t lived their adult lives incestuously, believe me. But as business partners and best friends. At first it was a huge relief for Blythe to have someone in on the secret, but as you can see, it has now become a terrible burden for her. Let me begin at the beginning so you can understand.

  “When Blythe and Daniel were just children back in Kentucky, their father died and their mother remarried a man who handled horses. He was a hard man in the best of times—abusive and cold. Then their mother died. Blythe was only fifteen and Daniel seventeen. They were turned into free labor by their cruel and greedy stepfather. There were many beatings and fights. Many nights Blythe cr
ied herself to sleep and Daniel lay aching from the last thrashing. On a particularly terrible night, the fighting escalated until the kids actually fought back. Daniel hit his stepfather over the head with an iron skillet and the man fell, still. They couldn’t find a pulse.

  “Well, they ran. They changed their names, worked odd jobs and hitched rides across the United States. It was the ‘60s and there were a lot of young people on the road. They were drawn to the Golden Gate because of the racing and their experience with horses, but they were afraid to be around too many people. They thought it very likely they were being hunted for the murder of their stepfather. By the time they got to Grace Valley they were nineteen and twenty-one. Someone mistook them, quite innocently, for a young married couple. It only made sense for them to continue the charade. If the authorities were looking for a brother and sister, they wouldn’t suspect a young man and his wife.

  “A good twenty years later Daniel went to a lawyer about his past. Taking advantage of the confidence of legal counsel, he told the lawyer everything. The lawyer did some simple checking and learned that the mean old stepfather had gotten no more than a nasty bump on the head and never spent a nickel looking for his step-children. He was glad to be rid of them. He’d since remarried, died of natural causes and left the stables that had originated with Blythe and Daniel’s father to his widow and her family.

  “Daniel was so relieved, he wanted to come clean to the town, to their friends, immediately. But Blythe was too afraid. She thought the lie would be judged harshly rather than understood. She thought they’d be hated and run off. Well,” Sarah said, “until Daniel and I met, there was really no reason to insist. Besides,” she added apologetically, “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, Daniel can be passive.”

  For the first time, one of the listeners spoke. “If I’d known he waited till his fifties to court a woman it might have become obvious,” Birdie said. The relief of laughter followed.

  “For a year, Daniel and I courted secretly. The three of us spent a good deal of time together. I believe Blythe was happy. We were like sisters. Then we started to pressure her to agree to telling the truth and panic overcame her. The past year has been a nightmare for all of us.”

  “What the devil does she think will happen?” Corsica wanted to know.

  “I believe she thinks she’ll be tarred and feathered,” Sarah said. “And, please understand, I don’t think her fears are unreasonable. People are going to snicker, point, talk behind their hands. We know how small towns are, and we’re ready to stand together against whatever painful gossip erupts. But Blythe just can’t face it. Once you’ve kept a secret for almost forty years, it’s hard to let it go.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t that she wishes you would go away so she could have her old life back?” Corsica asked.

  “By now there’s no question of that,” Sarah said. “I’m bringing her such terrible discomfort. And when she finds out I’ve told the secret, she’s going to be so angry with me. But we can’t let her go. Don’t you see? After all Daniel and Blythe have been through together, I can’t let them become separated now.”

  “Have you considered just breaking it off with Daniel and letting them have their secret?” June asked.

  “I’ve offered that. Though it would hurt, I could do it. I’ve been married, had children, have grandchildren. I’ve had a husband, and while it didn’t work out to be forever, we had some good years. But Daniel is fifty-five and all he’s done his whole life is work and protect his sister. He wants to have a little something for himself before his life is over.” She shook her head. “She’s more comfortable with people thinking Daniel cheated on her than with the truth, that’s how afraid she is. And that’s where I need your help.”

  “You think we can convince her the town won’t treat her meanly if she and Daniel open up, tell the story?” Corsica asked. “Because this is a town like all towns and—”

  “I don’t think anyone knows how people will act,” Sarah said. “But maybe you can tell her that you know the truth, and that you understand.” She looked at each quilter. “You do understand, don’t you?”

  June was thinking that, for the first time, she finally did understand.

  June had a piece of business with Chris Forrest that she wasn’t about to let anyone in on, especially Birdie. She could have hung around after quilting to talk to him, but talking to him wasn’t really what she had in mind. Besides, she’d prefer to do this in daylight.

  She asked John to cover her appointments while she did rounds at Valley Hospital in Rockport. After rounds she took a side trip to Bob Hanson’s insurance office. Her timing was good; she was there at lunch time. But Chris had already walked down the street to a Rockport pub for a sandwich.

  She’d been rehearsing what she’d say—“Did you tell the new preacher that we were a couple, you slime-ball?” Or maybe, “Who do you think you are, telling people you had me on your arm again?”—but nothing seemed to carry the force she was looking for. She could only hope that something magnificent would pop to her lips when she saw him.

  And then she saw him.

  She was driving her truck toward the pub and he was out front. There were benches on either side of the pub’s double doors and an attractive woman in her early thirties sat on one. She wore business attire—skirt, hose, heels. Her shapely legs were crossed and her coppery hair bounced in thick tendrils on her shoulders as she laughed in amusement at whatever entertaining thing Chris was saying to her.

  His back was to the street. He had raised one foot to the bench and was leaning on the raised knee so that he hovered over her. It looked as though he was telling her secret, intimate, playful stories. He leaned closer and closer to her face, smiling, whispering. She chuckled again and gazed up at him with adoration. She gently caressed the calf of his raised leg and he twisted one of the coppery tresses around his finger.

  He hadn’t changed a bit since high school.

  It all came flooding back to June, how he had always been this big flirt who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He’d wanted June as his official girlfriend, but he’d wanted others on the side. That’s right, others. It hadn’t been just Nancy, though it had been mostly Nancy. Indeed, Nancy had done her the biggest favor by winning him!

  The louse. He had the temerity to tell people he was happy to be back and wanted another chance with June, yet he was clearly courting this pretty young woman. He was a joke! And he needed a taste of his own medicine.

  Talk about closure. It certainly wouldn’t take much more than this.

  She stopped at the curb, but the couple on the bench were oblivious. She rolled down the window on the passenger side, then leaned on the horn in a huge, long blast that caused them to jump. The woman grabbed her heart and Chris whirled around in surprise.

  “How can you do this to me?” June cried out. “After telling Pastor Shipton we’re a couple?”

  Chris looked completely perplexed. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times in a silent stammer. His hands moved in futile gestures that said nothing. He lumbered unsteadily toward her truck and, placing his hands on the door at the opened window, leaned down. “June,” he began.

  “How many times in one life do you plan to break my heart? How many women will you cheat with, you oaf?” she yelled. He looked stunned, and that made it all the harder to keep a straight face. She might have felt a little bit bad about the way the attractive young women went pale, her eyes as huge as saucers. Of course, she thought she was the only one.

  “June…” he attempted.

  “Don’t you ever speak my name again, you… you… monster!”

  “Hey, June-bug, I was just—”

  She pressed the heel of her hand against the horn for another long, loud blast, causing him to jump back from the truck and put his hands over his ears. “Bye now,” she said, and drove away. She laughed all the way back to Grace Valley.

  Birdie had stayed up late working on the festival quilt be
cause there was only one week in which to finish, so she was tired and perhaps a little cranky. Then she was up early, as usual, on Friday morning. Judge was in a foul spirit over this Myrna Claypool thing, Chris had showered and left the house as quickly as possible, and she was stuck with the noise and mess of her grandsons. And their insolence. She was just about at the end of her tether.

  The Graceful Quilters had decided, unanimously, not to converge on Blythe. Birdie would go to her first, Corsica and Ursula would be backup if Birdie failed to make headway, and June was to be the last line of defense. Philana and Jessie were excused—Philana for her shyness and Jessie for her inexperience.

  Birdie said a quick prayer for patience as she drove her big yellow sedan up the road toward Culley Stables. No one answered the door, which wasn’t much of a surprise. Birdie went out to the stable closest to the house. She heard a scraping sound and called out, “Blythe?”

  Shovel in hand, Blythe stepped out of the shadows. “Mrs. Forrest?” she said in surprised confusion.

  “I’m sorry not to have called first, Blythe. I must talk to you. Do you have a minute?”

  “What is it?” she asked, worried. Birdie Forrest was about the last person Blythe ever expected to see in her stable. “Is anything wrong?” Would Birdie be sent to the stables to inform her of Daniel’s death? Surely not.

  “I think everything is going to be fine, Blythe, if we can just talk a minute. I’ve had such a rugged week. Could we go to your porch? I’m done in. And Lord knows, I don’t want to go back home and face those little delinquents my son is raising…or rather, sticking me with.” She lifted a hand to her forehead and tried to push her silver curls into shape. “They’re going to be the death of me, Blythe.”

  “Well, mercy, come on then. I’ll get you some lemonade.”

  “Would you? That would help so much.” They walked together toward the house. “It seems unusually quiet around here, Blythe. Where are all the hands?”