Previously Loved Treasures Page 21
When the glow of Rose Hill came into view, Joe’s heart began to thump hard against his chest. Rowena was here, he could feel it.
Three blocks into town Max pulled onto a side street and parked the car. Joe stopped the tow truck on a far corner where he had a clear view. He watched as Max climbed out of the car and went into a building with apartments above a row of stores that were closed for the night.
Once Max disappeared into the building, Joe got out of the truck and walked down the street. Not wanting to be recognized, he wore a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead. Backing into the shadows on the opposite side of the street, he stood and watched the building. After several minutes a light came on, and he could see shadows of people in the room. Max was easy to identify, small as he was. The woman was farther away, but Joe knew it wasn’t Rowena. This woman was full and round, whereas Rowena was tall, narrow, and lean.
Joe stood there for more than an hour, but nothing changed. He heard laughter and music, but there was no sign of Rowena. “Sooner or later,” he grumbled and returned to the truck to wait.
When Max left Maggie Sue’s apartment it was after four in the morning, and when he pulled away from the curb Joe missed seeing it because he’d fallen asleep.
~ ~ ~
A glimmer of sunlight bounced off the fender and woke Joe. The first thing he looked for was Max’s car. Gone. He glanced at the clock—seven-ten. By now Abe had arrived at the locked-up gas station and discovered the truck missing. “Shit,” Joe said.
He’d figured to get the truck back before Abe got there; now it was too late. Joe knew he’d be canned for what he’d done, so he had nothing more to lose. That’s why he decided to stay in Rose Hill and find Rowena. Once found, he’d toss Rowena and Sara into the truck and take them back to Mackinaw. That would be it. He’d explain to Abe and maybe even get his job back. If he didn’t, so what? It was a lousy job to start with.
What Joe failed to realize was that Abe had already called the sheriff and reported the truck stolen.
Watching
The next morning when everyone gathered around the breakfast table, Max was missing. It was not all that unusual, because he was hit-and-miss on breakfast, and if his disposition was sour he was likely to miss dinner also.
On this particular morning the group seemed in a happier mood than usual. None of the missing items had yet been discovered other than Louie’s shoes. While he maintained that someone had stolen the shoes from under the round chair in the parlor, most everyone else believed it to be simply a case of forgetfulness.
“They’ll show up soon or later,” Caroline assured him. Then she began talking about the new book she’d begun to write. “I’ve found my true voice, and I’m writing a story about Grandma.”
Of course with everyone contributing bits and pieces of stories they felt should be included, breakfast stretched out until eleven o’clock. Rose served two more trays of biscuits, slices of honeydew melon, and leftovers of ham, and when everyone finally stood to leave the table they all agreed that lunch would be unnecessary. Even Louie.
“Don’t worry,” Rose whispered in his ear, “if you get hungry, just come in the kitchen and I’ll fix you a snack.”
Shortly after the residents had all gone their own way, Max emerged from his room and whooshed out the door. He jumped in the car and headed for town. This time he passed right by Maggie Sue’s apartment and headed for the drugstore. He bought a fresh roll of film, then went home and loaded it into his camera. He never noticed the tow truck that pulled out behind him as he drove past Maggie Sue’s apartment building.
~ ~ ~
Joe watched as Max went into the drugstore and came out carrying a small package. He stayed a full block behind when he trailed Max back to the Sweetwater house, and when Max parked in front of the house Joe circled the block. When he came around the second time, Joe parked the truck directly behind Max. He scrunched down in the seat and began watching the house. Luckily he had a bottle of Jack Daniels to keep him company.
~ ~ ~
When the clock chimed twelve, Max came to the dining room with his camera ready. He’d expected that everyone would be gathered for lunch, but no one was there. Not a single person. Doc was in the back yard snoozing behind a dental magazine, Wilbur and Louie were watching a ballgame, and Laricka could be heard threatening the two grandsons with punishment if they didn’t stop running through the house. Rose was nowhere in sight. Max wandered from room to room looking for her. She was usually in the kitchen fixing lunch at this time but not today. There was no tray of chicken or ham on the counter, no dishes set out, no chopped up vegetables. Even the salt and pepper shakers were stored away.
Max walked into the center hall and hollered up the stairs. “Hello?” His voice was loud but not angry. Actually for Max it was an almost friendly sound. “Anyone here?”
Caroline came from the top floor. “I’m upstairs working. What’s the problem?”
It would seem entirely too suspicious to flat-outt ask where Rose was, so Max settled for, “Where’s lunch?”
“Breakfast ran really late this morning, so we decided to skip lunch,” Caroline said. “I can fix you a sandwich if you want.”
Anxious as Max was to get the picture taken, he couldn’t run the risk of looking like he was up to something. “Oh, okay.” He wasn’t the least bit hungry but to decline the offer would mean questions.
He followed Caroline through the hall and into the kitchen. He sat at the counter, and as she scooped up some leftover chicken salad, he said, “Nice how you’ve got Rose here to do the cooking and all, huh?”
Caroline looked over and smiled. “Yes, it is nice.”
“She’s good for the place, gets along with everybody.” Without skipping a beat Max segued into asking where she came from and whether she was married.
Caroline moved past the question without answering. “Having Rose here has certainly made it a lot easier for me. I’ve gone back to writing.”
“Good.” Max nodded. “Good to do something you enjoy.” More flies with honey, he reminded himself.
“I’m really glad to hear you say that, Max. I’ve been worried that you were still angry with me because of the house.”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m over that. I figure if this is what Ida wanted, then it’s good with me.”
“I never thought of it as me or you owning the house,” Caroline answered. “We’re family, so I’d like to believe we own it together.”
A bitter swell rose in Max’s throat. “Yeah,” he said in a hollowed-out voice, “except your name is on the deed.” He picked up the sandwich Caroline had made and started toward the door. “I’ve got a few things to take care of. See you later.” The tone of his voice was glossed over, not to the point where it sounded chummy but enough to hide the anger churning inside.
Max headed back toward his room, but on the way he stopped in the bathroom and flushed the sandwich down the toilet. He didn’t want a hand-out sandwich; what he wanted was what should have been rightfully his anyway. He stood there and watched the last chunk of chicken swirl away; then he carried the plate back to the kitchen and plunked it down in the sink.
The afternoon seemed endless as Max waited for the dinner hour. He listened hoping to hear Rose in the kitchen, but there was no sound until almost five-thirty. When he walked into the kitchen, Caroline was preparing dinner.
“Where’s Rose?” he asked.
“Sara’s not feeling well,” Caroline answered. “Rose is taking care of her.”
“What about dinner?” The agitation in Max’s voice was now apparent.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me tonight.” Caroline laughed.
“Shit!” Max turned and walked out of the room.
“But I thought you said…”
~ ~ ~
Joe Mallory sat in the truck watching the house for six hours, but he saw very little. Two women came and went, but neither of them were Rowena. Inside the house he could see no
thing until the lights were switched on shortly after sunset. At first it was only shadows moving about, but gradually they took shape and came into view. Using darkness as a cover, Joe stepped out of the truck and crept closer to the window. He could see into what was most likely the parlor.
The first person to arrive was a tall man with light hair. He carried a sheath of papers and settled in the high back chair. Next came a man in work clothes, rounder than Max but only a head taller. The two women were back, but still no Rowena and no Sara. He moved closer to the house and squatted behind the azalea bushes.
When Joe heard voices, he raised himself up and peered into the window. That’s when he thought he saw Rowena, not in the front parlor but walking through the back hall. She was little more than a shadow with brown hair, but he knew it was Rowena. She was unlike the others, taller, straighter, a youthful lean body. She stopped a moment and called out something; then the others rose and walked toward the sound of her voice. They disappeared into a room where he could no longer see.
Joe worked his way around the side of the house but could see nothing. Both windows were darkened. They had moved to the back of the house, he was certain of it, but there was no way around. A tall wooden fence and thick hedges surrounded the backyard. Fence or no fence, he had to see what was back there.
Returning to the truck Joe found a pair of pliers and a claw hammer. He crossed the street again and made his way toward the rear of the house. Following the fence around, he moved to the far back corner where if a board should splinter or nails pop it was less likely to be heard. He pressed his hand against several boards; they were all solid and strong. Finally he found one that wobbled ever so slightly. Using the thinnest part of the claw, he gouged the wood until he could edge the hammer’s claw under a nail. He pulled the handle back, and the nail popped loose.
After he’d pulled five nails from the first board, it swung sideways. Then he moved on to the second board and repeated the process. After nearly two hours of work, he was able to push the boards aside and slip through the fence.
The back window was high off the ground, too high for Joe to look directly in. The light in the back room was dimmed, but he could see shadows. It was Rowena, and she stood close to the tall man he’d seen in the parlor earlier.
Joe heard her laugh and felt a sharp pain shoot through his heart when he watched her reach up and wrap her arms around the man’s neck. “Son of a bitch,” he grumbled.
For nearly a month Joe had suffered pangs of guilt, believing he’d driven Rowena away with his careless behavior. Now he realized that wasn’t it at all. She’d come here to be with another man.
“You’re not getting away with this,” Joe growled. He crossed the yard, stepped outside the fence, and returned to the truck.
Mistaken Identity
After Wilbur said he’d be happy to read the remainder of Caroline’s book whenever it was ready, she hugged him around the neck for a second time. “Thank you,” she said and brushed a kiss across his cheek.
Although their relationship was new, it didn’t feel new. Wilbur had come into her life just as Ida had, and when Caroline stood alongside him she could already sense he was the grandfather she’d been waiting for. After so many years of drifting through life like dandelion floss loosed from its stem, she now had roots. She had someone she cared about, and that someone cared about her.
After Wilbur left the kitchen, Caroline clicked on the radio. She was listening to Whitney Houston sing “I Wanna Dance with Somebody,” which is why she missed hearing the clap of the fence boards when Joe Mallory banged his way out of the backyard.
~ ~ ~
When Joe climbed into the truck, the anger he felt churned and roiled like the fire of a volcano. The heat of it burned through his body and caused his heart to kick against his chest with such force that it took his breath away. He heaved a desperate gasp, then reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels.
He downed several swigs before his hands stopped shaking and his heartbeat slowed to an angry rumble. At first he cursed Rowena and wished her dead, but once the flow of anger crested the misery of a man who’d lost everything surfaced.
A stream of tears began to cascade down Joe’s face, and he wiped them back with his shirtsleeve. When the stream became a flood, he dropped his head onto his chest and sobbed aloud.
Joe had to talk to Rowena. He had to convince her to come back. The more he drank, the more logical such a plan seemed. He sat there for hours thinking it through, and by the time the bottle was near empty he’d come to believe this was not her doing. It was obviously that man’s fault. He’d turned her against Joe. He’d said things, done things, maybe even made promises. Joe’s tears stopped, and the anger returned. He tipped the bottle to his lips and drained it.
“Damn him,” Joe said as he stumbled down from the cab. He pulled a box from behind the seat and fished through it for a length of hose and a rag. As he searched, he cursed the man who had taken Rowena; he ranted, saying hell and damnation were too good for such a man. Once he found what he was looking for Joe circled around to the side of the truck, unscrewed the cap to the gas tank, and dropped in one end of the hose. He lifted the other end to his mouth and pulled a long sucking breath. When gasoline churned through the hose, he filled the Jack Daniels bottle then tossed the hose aside.
After he’d stuffed one end of the rag into the bottle, Joe started back across the street. He stumbled as drunken men often do, leaning forward and listing first to the right and then to the left. Putting one foot in front of the other he drew closer to the house. The parlor was now dark, and he could see no lights in the upstairs rooms. Joe followed his earlier path until he came to the opening he’d made in the fence; then he climbed through and started across the lawn. At first it appeared that room was also darkened, but then a light clicked on and a figure appeared.
~ ~ ~
Wilbur’s acid indigestion was acting up again. It was the third night in a row. It didn’t come from what he’d eaten; it came from an uneasiness that had settled in his mind. Vague thoughts that carried a sense of foreboding but came without an understandable meaning. He’d kept a close eye on Caroline, even walked up to the attic several times to check on her, but everything was just as it should be. Throughout the evening Wilbur had tried to convince himself it was simply reawakening thoughts of Ida that set his mind on edge, but his argument was less than convincing.
After he’d tossed and turned for nearly an hour, he decided a glass of warm milk might help. Wilbur climbed from his bed and headed toward the kitchen. From the hallway he could see a sliver of light coming from beneath Caroline’s door. He smiled. She was still working on her book. With only the dim light of the hall lantern, he descended the stairs and walked toward the kitchen. Seconds after he snapped on the overhead light he heard the voice.
“Rowenaaaa!”
It was not a name, not a word, just a desperate, urgent cry. Wilbur stopped and listened.
“Rowenaaaa!”
Suddenly lights began popping on all over the house. Caroline opened her door and started down the stairs. “What was that?” she asked Doctor Payne who was already in the hallway.
He shrugged and followed her down the staircase. Harriet came seconds later.
When the cry came a third time, Caroline realized who the voice was calling for.
Wilbur did not, so he turned and walked toward the sound.
It was the sight of a man he’d come to detest that caused Joe to strike a match and light the rag in the bottle. After downing all that Jack Daniels he was so drunk he wobbled when he stood, but somehow he found strength enough to draw back his arm and hurl the bottle through the kitchen window.
The explosion shook the house and threw Wilbur to the far left of the kitchen. Within seconds the fire began to spread across the kitchen floor and up the walls, grabbing curtains, dishtowels, cookbooks, and anything else it could find. Black smoke rolled through the kitchen and into the hall.
; Caroline ran back upstairs and began pounding on the doors. “Fire! Get out! Get out!” When all the upstairs rooms were emptied, she ran down and caught Max and Laricka already on their way out the door. By then lights had gone on all over the neighborhood, and a patrol car screeched to a stop in front of the house.
“What happened?” a police officer asked, but no one knew anything other than that they had heard a strange yell followed by the sound of an explosion.
In the distance the sound of a fire engine screamed through the night.
Neighbors from several houses now crowded the street, everyone asking everyone else what had happened. Caroline scanned the faces and found Rose clinging to little Sara. The fearful looks they wore said they too had heard the cry.
Caroline pushed her way through the crowd and took Rose by the hand. “Come with me.”
Barbara Ann Percy, an elderly neighbor who Caroline often ran errands for, stood in the crowd of onlookers. When she saw Caroline coming, she stretched out her arms. “Oh, you poor dear—”
“I need your help,” Caroline interrupted. “Take my friend, Rose, and her daughter to your house, go inside, and close the door.”
“But—”
“Please.”
The urgency in Caroline’s voice was argument enough. Barbara Ann gave Rose a nod and said, “Follow me.”
When Caroline turned back to the crowd, she began to look for each of the residents. The upstairs rooms had all been emptied out, but Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. “Have you seen Wilbur?” she asked Doctor Payne. When he shook his head she asked Max, Louie, Harriet, and Laricka. No one had seen him.
By then the fire engine had arrived.
“Wilburrr!” Caroline screamed. “Wilburrr!” When no answer came, she turned and started toward the house.
A tall redheaded fireman dropped the hose he was unfurling and grabbed her by the arm. “You can’t go back in there!”