Irritated, I shook thoughts of both men from my mind. Scrap it. After all, it wasn’t like I was planning on marrying either one of them. Andrew had made it clear he didn’t believe in marriage. Joe was far too young to become a surrogate father.
The road wound through the ravine, hugging it like a snake. During winter, the ice and snow obscured the shoulder, and the lack of leaves gave a stark, black-and-white look to the area. Now that spring was here, leaf buds studded the bramble vines and trees, and the promise of summer to come hovered in the fresh smell of damp moss. Through my open window, the rush of the creek kept up a steady rhythm, the current swift and dangerous. White-water season, we called it. As the snow melted off the Cascades glaciers, the runoff channeled into the streams, bringing with it rapids and whitecaps that spewed mist high into the air. A sudden longing swept over me; if I could only stop and meander along the creek’s side, to sit by the water and let my stress roll away with the waves. The weekend camping trip sounded more and more appealing, the longer I thought about it.
I turned onto the driveway that led to Harlow and James’s home. As I slipped out of the car and headed toward the sidewalk, there was a shout as Kip and Miranda tumbled out of the house. Harlow followed, easing her wheelchair onto the ramp that James had built for her. Her tummy was expanding, all right; her baby girl was going to be a whopper. Though Harl had managed to avoid a recurrence of anorexia, I had a sneaking suspicion that labor was going to be hard on her. She had such a narrow frame and no hips to speak of. What weight she’d gained during pregnancy so far had all gone to her tummy and boobs.
I kissed the kids and leaned over to give Harl a hug. “Hey babe, how are you?” The kids gave me quick pecks on the cheek before racing off to chase frogs. I dropped onto the bench near the front door.
“Miserable. I want out of this chair as soon as possible. It’s driving me nuts to have to sit so still, and my back hurts!” Harl groaned and adjusted her position. I swung around behind her and began rubbing her shoulders. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Oh God, what I wouldn’t give for a cigarette.” Harlow had quit smoking in December when she decided to have the baby. She wasn’t handling it very well but surprised all of us by her determination.
“You can do it, sweetie. Just think, by the end of next week you should be out of that chair, right? And your little girl will be so much healthier if you stay away from the cigs. You’re going to make it just fine.”
“Yeah.” She sniffed and hiccupped. “Thanks, Em. I don’t know how I’d have made it through the past few months without you cheering me on. If only James hadn’t had to make this trip, but I know he needed to go.” She lowered her voice. “I have a problem. Hannah has to leave.”
“What’s up?” I rested on the bench next to her. Hannah, her mother-in-law, was a wonderful if overpowering woman.
“Last night Hannah got a call from Helena, Montana. Her father died. She doesn’t want to tell James yet. If he comes back to the States now, he’ll blow this photo shoot, and once you screw up something this big, you don’t get a second chance. There’s nothing he could do anyway; the funeral will be long over by the time he could get back. But with Hannah gone, that means I’ll be alone for a few days.”
“So she’s heading out today?”
Harl glanced back at the house. “She’s pretty broken up; she and her father were really close because her mother died young. I feel so sorry for her. No matter how old you are, when a parent dies, it still hits you hard. I’ve called for a nurse attendant to help me, but she won’t be able to get here for a couple of days.”
I didn’t like the thought of Harl being out here alone. “You could stay with me. I’ve got the guest room downstairs, and we still have the ramp Joe and Andrew built for me when I was on crutches a few months ago.”
She considered the idea then shook her head. “I’ve got too much work to finish. Professor Abrams is a wuss, fretting all the time, but he’s really a dear.” She laughed. I knew she liked her new employer and he, in turn, adored her. It was hard for anybody to meet Harlow and not go gaga. She was one of those people that made every person she talked to feel special. “The Professor’s asked me to stay on after the baby’s born. I told him that I’ll have to slow down a bit, but he says he’s never had such an organized assistant before.”
I snorted. “Sounds like you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, like you do every man. I’m glad you like the job, though.”
She bobbed her head. “Oh, I do. In fact, James is bringing back a few artifacts that he found for the Professor to look at. They’re from some obscure tribe in north-western Ethiopia. They may actually turn out to be ancient Egyptian.”
“While we’re talking antiques, take a look at this.” I pulled out the dragon and showed it to her.
She held the dragon gingerly. “So this is the little guy. Gorgeous.”
“Hodges gave me a list of experts on art in the Ming dynasty.” I showed her the paper he’d written the names on. “Do you know any of these people?”
She eyed them carefully, tapping her long fuchsia nails on the arm of her chair, then pointed to the last name on the list. “I know Mary Sanders. She’s smart, and she’s friendly. Why don’t you give her a call?”
I took the paper back and folded it, putting it in my pocket. “Do you know where she lives? Obviously somewhere in Washington by the area code but—”
Harl grinned. “Lucky you! She lives in Glacier. Didn’t you say you were headed out that way to go camping this weekend?”
“Yeah. Glacier, huh? I could drive back to the town and talk to her on Saturday while Murray watches the kids at the cabin. I could take the dragon with me.”
“I’ll give her a heads up to expect your call. She owes me a couple favors.”
As interesting as the conversation was getting, I needed to skedaddle. “Okay, I’m taking off. The kids are late for school. Murray’s on Jimbo’s trail. Did I tell you his prints were on the brick that slammed through my window, and we think he might have been the one who trashed my shop? That’ll teach me to head-butt drunken rednecks.”
Harlow shuddered. “I dunno, Em. You be careful. Something doesn’t feel right, and you’re the one who taught me to pay attention to my intuition.”
I called the kids and we piled in the Cherokee. I dropped them off at their schools, making sure their teachers knew why they were late. Making it home just in time to greet the deliverymen with the new window, I tucked the dragon safely away, then joined Joe, who had just arrived, hardware in hand. He and Oliver got to work on the installation while I planned out the camping trip. After a little while, I made lemonade and sandwiches.
Oliver and Joe were discussing various ways of caulking drafts. I cleared my throat. “Lunch is ready.”
“Great!” Joe said. “We’re ready for a break.” They trooped into the house and washed their hands in the sink. I set the plate of sandwiches on the table.
“Ladies first,” Oliver said. “So, any idea who broke the window?”
“Some guy was bothering me the other night while I was out with a friend. They aren’t sure if he was the one who vandalized my shop, though.”
He shrugged. “Most likely. If he went to the trouble of throwing a brick through your window, he’s probably also the one who robbed your store.”
“Well, they aren’t sure, but no doubt you’re right. So, how are you getting on in Chiqetaw? Have you signed up for classes yet at WWU?”
He swallowed his bite of sandwich and washed it down with a big swig of lemonade. “I called the registrar’s office and talked to them. The earliest I can get in is winter quarter, so I’ll get a job until then. I don’t want to live off Aunt Ida any more than necessary.”
The back door opened, and Kip raced in, breathless. “I forgot my homework!” He eyed the sandwiches on the table. “Can I eat lunch here? Otherwise I won’t have time when I get back to school.”
&
nbsp; I told him to wash his hands and got him a plate and poured him a glass of milk. He slid onto the chair next to Oliver. “Hey, Mr. Hoffman! Hi Joe!” After he’d chomped into his sandwich and washed it down with the milk, he cleared his throat. “Mr. Hoffman, Sly says his mom called you a con. Were you really in prison?”
My darling Kip silenced us all with his question, and I immediately turned as red as a lobster begging for melted butter. I hadn’t told the kids about Oliver yet, nor had I informed Joe. Oliver had a right to his privacy, and it wasn’t like he’d been locked up for anything violent. Joe shot me a questioning look.
“Kip, that’s none of your business. I want you to apologize immediately.” I hushed Oliver as he started to speak.
Kip’s lip quivered a little as he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Okay, grab an apple, and get back to school before you’re late. When you get home this afternoon, go out to the shed and haul out the camping gear so it can air out. We don’t need the tent since we’ll be sleeping in a cabin, but we’ll bring it along just in case.”
Joe cleared his throat noisily, but when I looked at him, he just stared blankly at his plate. I gave Kip a hug and, clutching his folder of homework, he took off out the door and grabbed his bike, pedaling as fast as he could.
I glanced at Oliver, hoping he wasn’t too mad. “I’m so sorry. Kip didn’t intend to be rude; he’s at that age where his mouth works before his brain, and if he wants to know something, he’s used to asking. I encourage their curiosity, even though they don’t always get the answers they’re hoping for.”
Oliver shrugged. “I figured it would come out. If this Sly kid knows, then I’d better expect that the rest of the town will know. Ida probably talked about me to people during the time I was locked up.”
“Where are you from?” Joe asked. “Is Ida your only living family?”
“Portland, Oregon, and yeah, my parents are both dead. Why do you want to know?” Oliver polished off the last of his sandwich and chips, then chugged his milk.
Joe persisted. “Where were you incarcerated, and why?” He seemed determined to pick at the subject.
I blushed. I might not be a gourmet chef, but I was, at least, a gracious hostess. “Back off, Joe. My kitchen isn’t an interrogation room.”
Joe glared at me; I knew he wanted to pursue the subject, but I shook my head, and he just shrugged. “Sorry. Sometimes I guess I’m nosy, too.”
Oliver shrugged. “Whatever. Aunt Ida offered me a place to stay so I can get my head together and get back on track.” He gathered up his dishes and carried them to the sink. “If we want to finish that window, we’d better get moving.”
Joe gave him a nod and said, “I’ll be out in a minute.” After Oliver had excused himself to the porch, Joe thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Something’s off there.”
“Jealous?” I meant to tease him, but he scowled.
“If I am jealous, it’s not of your new neighbor. No, Ida’s nephew is hiding something. When will she be back?”
I glanced at the phone. “According to her message, another week or so. Desdemona is in a really bad way. Joe, she loves Oliver, so go easy. I think you just don’t like the idea of an ex-con living next door, but some people who are in prison don’t belong there, and not everybody with a criminal record is dangerous.”
He relaxed a little and gave me a faint smile. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I’m just worried because of everything that’s happened to you over the past few days. Too many upsets in a short period of time.”
I patted him on the arm. “Murray’s on top of the investigation. The insurance check is coming next week, and I’ll be able to replace the stock at my store. Safety-Tech installed the security system there. And as far as my window, well, the cops know who did it and are after him right now. Murray won’t let anybody hurt me. Now how about getting busy?”
I followed Joe into the living room as he headed back outside. A flicker of light from the étagère caught my eye. The dragon had changed positions. It had been facing the kitchen wall. Now it faced the front of the house, looking straight at the broken window, and I could swear the eyes were glowing.
What the hell? Not again. Maybe I hadn’t been imagining things at the shop when I first thought the statue was staring at me. I checked the door handle. Yep, the door was locked. Fumbling with the key, I reached in to flip the dragon back around. As I did, my bracelet caught on the crystal unicorn that the kids had bought me for my birthday two years ago and, startled, I jerked. Tangled in the gold chain, the figurine tipped over, and the horn broke. Swearing, I cautiously removed the unicorn and the broken horn, hoping I could fix it before the kids found out.
Chapter 7
I MANAGED TO glue the unicorn back together before the kids got home from school. After I replaced the horned horse in the étagère, I reached for the dragon. Could I have been mistaken? Had it really moved, or was my memory off? The more I thought about it, the more uncertain I was. But no, I knew that I’d placed it in there facing the door to the kitchen. Of course, with everything that had happened the past week, I wouldn’t be surprised to find my concentration skewed. I hesitated, staring at the figurine. There was a strange aura around this piece, though I couldn’t pinpoint why it unsettled me. And the eyes really had been glowing.
If the dragon had moved, what could have caused it? Poltergeists were volatile spirits that tossed objects around and moved furniture, but I didn’t think that was what I was dealing with. And a spirit directly attached to the dragon would manifest in other ways. I carried it into the kitchen, away from the noise of Joe’s handwork, and tried to tune in to the energy again.
At first, all I got was static, not even the rainbow swirl of colors and energies. Great. We’re sorry, but your astral radar appears to be experiencing technical difficulties. I inhaled deeply and slowly let out my breath, once again lowering myself into the depths of trance. The static washed over me and set my nerves tingling with pinpricks of fire. I was about to give up when I caught the faintest glimpse of an image and abruptly found myself thrust into the middle of an astral adventure movie.
A rider was spurring his mount forward. Long strands of blond hair whipped out from beneath a tufted fur hat, and he wore what looked like an aging leather robe and trousers. He raced out of a wide, snow-covered grassland, across the steppes, urging his horse ever faster toward a path that led up into a range of mountains. Behind him, clouds swirled around the mountain peaks; a storm was brewing.
The image shifted, ever so slightly, and the rider was walking now, leading his horse behind him as he forged a path through the knee-deep snow that covered the ground and turned the trees into a picture-postcard Christmas forest. As the visions marched on in silence, snowflakes, as large as my thumbnail, began to fall, heavy and thick. Stopping in front of the entrance to a large cave, the rider led his horse inside, and I followed, as if in a dream, watching as the man hauled a pack off the back of the animal and shook out two heavy blankets. He gathered together a few branches from the floor of the cavern and tried to light a fire, but the spark wouldn’t take. Finally, looking exhausted, he huddled under the blankets.
As he sat there in the fading daylight that filtered in from the storm, he took out something and began to play with it. The dragon. The jade dragon, as beautiful as it was when sitting in my hand. The man tucked it back into a pouch on his belt and once again drew the blankets close around him, leaning against the wall of the cave. As he closed his eyes, the image faded from my sight.
I shook myself out of the trance, still feeling the pull of the dreamy half-conscious state that always came with working on the astral realms. Jeez, I hadn’t expected a full-scale journey! Though I meditated a lot and had the occasional premonition or psychometric flash, I wasn’t used to being dropped right into the middle of the action. What could the vision be telling me? How had the man come to possess the statue? Had he ever escaped
from the cave, or did his bones rest there still, high on some mountain, forgotten by time?
“You have so many secrets locked away inside, don’t you?” I asked the statue. “What’s your history? How did you get here, from so long ago and such a faraway land?” The dragon remained silent, noncommittal, and with a last look into its milky jade eyes, I replaced it in the cabinet and got out my steno book and jotted down both the position I left it in, along with the vision I’d seen. Next time, I would know for certain if it had moved. If there was a next time.
BY THE TIME Oliver and Joe finished up the last touches on the window, the kids were hauling camping gear out of the shed by the armload. They’d discovered an extra sleeping bag and a number of accoutrements that I didn’t even know we owned. Though we didn’t belong to the Winnebago set, it looked like we’d be roughing it in style.
Roy, on the other hand, had bought an RV for his new wife, but he never asked to take his children along on his camping trips. Come to think of it, I doubted if that RV saw much use at all. His ditz, Tyra, defined “roughing it” to mean staying anywhere except in five-star hotels.
By the time I strolled out front to see what the guys were up to, the window was installed and looked great. All I had to do was give it a good polish. Joe glanced at his watch; he went on duty in an hour and had to get to the firehouse. Oliver had planned to spend the evening exploring Chiqetaw, so I promised to repay them with dinner another night.
As I dug through the cupboards for the Windex and paper towels, it occurred to me that Jimbo had to have been pretty far up in the yard in order to toss the brick over the porch wall. No way could anybody lob a rock from the sidewalk over the fence, across the front yard, into our window. There were simply too many tree branches and hedges and banisters and balusters in the way. No, he had to come in close to get a good shot.
I shivered. The last thing I needed was some psycho near my kids. I finished cleaning the window as the kids came in, covered in dust balls and cobwebs.