Lover's Knot (11 page)

Kendra couldn’t resist one more probe. She was, after all, a journalist. “I’m sure Leah was devastated when her daughter left.”

He continued staring toward the river. “She was.”

Kendra thought he had finished, but he added, almost to himself, “She tried to find her, you know. Spent the rest of her years looking, as far as I can tell. Rachel called me once, but she wouldn’t tell me from where. At least I could tell Ms. Spurlock that much, that Rachel was still alive, even if I couldn’t tell her what Rachel said.”

Kendra couldn’t let that go. “It must have been something you were afraid to share.” It wasn’t a question, but it was a lead, if he took it.

“Rachel was furious with her mother. She said Ms. Spurlock was not the angel she seemed like to everyone else. She said she would spend her days in hell.”

The evening had turned cool, but the goose bumps rising on Kendra’s flesh had nothing to do with the temperature. “That must have been hard to hear. You must have been worried about her.”

He looked down, as if he had just remembered she was there. “I didn’t mean to go on and on. Maybe it’s standing right here. It was the first place I ever kissed Rachel.”

“I can’t help being curious. What a thing to say. Did she explain?”

He stared a moment, then he shook his head. She had seen that shake a thousand times, and she knew what it meant. She had reached a dead end. If there was anything else, she was not going to learn it. Not tonight.

“It was never a happy house,” he said. “Not the way it should have been. But they loved each other, those two women. So it was a shame they never saw each other again to put things to rights.” He stuck out his hand. “Glad to do business with you, Kendra. We’ll talk again soon.”

She shook and thanked him; then she watched him de-part. And all the while she thought about Isaac’s mother and grandmother, and the sad history that had been revealed this night.

C
ash Rosslyn was younger than Kendra had expected. And earlier. He appeared on her porch just after seven, with a cap in his hand and his father’s grin. She took one look and knew that this charmer had probably sold oneway tickets to half the female hearts in Shenandoah County.

He was probably not much more than thirty. His hair was a little too long, a cane-syrup brown; his eyes were a flawless merger of blue and green. A deep tan made the color even more startling.

“Kendra Taylor,” she said, holding out her hand. Now she was glad she’d risen and showered when the birds began their morning serenade.

“Sorry I’m so early, but this was the best time for me. We’re going to start on the barn this afternoon.”

“That soon?”

“The owner has plans for that hill. We start today, the price drops a lot.”

“Clearly I chose the right people to work with.”

The grin flashed again. He was adept at using it, but it also seemed perfectly natural. “Yes, ma’am, you sure did. We
are
the best, no question about it. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

She laughed. This was a man who enjoyed himself, and she bet if he wasn’t enjoying himself, he simply moved on to something better.

“Would you like coffee? I just made a pot.”

He followed her inside, running his hands over the walls as he moved toward the kitchen. He stopped halfway, pulled out a pocket knife and began tapping the handle along the length of one of the middle logs on the outside wall.

“You got some rot here. Mind if I probe a little?”

“Be my guest.”

He flicked open the knife. “These long cracks? They’re called checks. Usually not a problem, just a natural part of settling, but I’m guessing some moisture got inside this one.” He slipped the knife in the crack and moved it around.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to have to pull logs out of the middle of the house and replace them.”

“Nothing so drastic. This one isn’t going to be much of a problem, anyway—at least I don’t think so. But I’ll be checking outside, mostly.” He snapped the knife shut. “Usually we can do what we call the Dutchman’s repair, carve out the rotted part and piece in sound wood. I’m guessing there will be problems outside. The house needs gutters, maybe even a new roof. I’ll know more after I do the whole inspection.”

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Black as sin.”

She poured him a mug, one of her Wal-Mart purchases. In the condo she had a set of sleek white stoneware from a home decor shop in Georgetown. Here she had settled on mugs with sunflowers and cardinals, and liked their cheery greeting every morning.

“My dad tell you the two buildings were built decades apart?”

“He thought so.”

“Notching of the logs is different. Had you noticed? If you want to come outside, I can show you.”

She was entranced that she had stumbled into history just by making one phone call. She poured herself another cup of coffee and followed him down the steps and around the side of the building, where it was easier to see how the house had been constructed.

Cash was in lecture mode. “Now this is a dovetail notch. You don’t see this a lot. Whoever put this cabin together knew what he was doing. The other side? A half dovetail, which is a lot more common and easier to do. Not well done there, I’m afraid.”

As they walked, he demonstrated the difference, which was, for the most part, a function of the angle of the notches. By the time they stood looking down at the river, Kendra was at peace with her decision. Cash hadn’t made the full inspection, but without question it was going to take work to keep this structure intact. Like his father, he believed that starting from the ground up would be better. But more important, he’d also made it clear he would abide by her wishes.

No one except a New Yorker named Kendra Taylor cared what happened to this little piece of Virginia, but Cash and his father were the men to move the house solidly into the twenty-first century.

“I’m growing awfully fond of this view,” she said.

“There’s a lot of grading and foundation work we’ll need to do here, and keeping the cabin will make it harder. Now that I’ve seen it for myself, I’ll help my dad draw up some preliminary plans. I brought some books for you to look through, and a list of questions. When you’re ready, we’ll work out the details. But there’ll be a lot of coming and going. You’re up for this?”

“I don’t see how I can say no.”

“Then I’m not going to build anything too permanent in the way of a railing. We might want to enlarge that porch, or tear it down. So today I’ll just stick up something temporary. Don’t be judging my craftsmanship.”

She wondered if he was still hoping she would change her mind and take the cabin down. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I gave up on mint juleps and the winner’s circle.”

“Kentucky?”

“Horses and racing. I still do some training, but this is what I do to make a living. For at least as long as it’ll take me to finish this project.”

He was as different from the men she knew as D.C. from Louisville, and a welcome change.

“I’ve been thinking about visiting somebody. Now might be a good time, since you’ll be working here,” she said.

“Might be. Though maybe you need to get used to it.”

“Maybe I do. But not today.”

They finished their tour, with Cash stopping twice to poke around the foundation. When they reached the front, it was in time to see Godzilla slithering toward the woods for breakfast.

“Now that’s some snake,” Cash said after a long, low whistle. “Never saw one quite that big.”

Kendra forced herself to breathe. “I really wish it would find another place to live. You don’t know what it is, do you?”

“Black rat snake, near as I can tell. Nothing to worry you. You won’t have a mouse in the house, that’s for sure.”

“How about a snake?”

“Well, they can climb near about anything. Seen ’em in trees raiding nests. But he’s got what he needs out here, and your house is secure. I don’t think you’ll find him in bed with you, if that’s what you’re worried about. That’s not a snake you’ll want to go after with a hoe. You’d need a steamroller.”

“Is there such a thing as snake repellant?”

“Sure is. But save yourself some money and just put up a No Vacancy sign. Works about as well. He’ll probably leave when we get going here. He won’t want the company, and I’ve got a couple of men who’d sooner shoot him than look at him.”

She liked Cash, and she supposed if her life was going to be in turmoil for the next few months, she might as well enjoy the people who were causing the disturbance.

She thanked him for coming and added, “I was injured about a month ago, and the steps are hard for me without something to hang on to.”

“Car accident?”

“In a manner of speaking, I guess. I was shot because a man in a D.C. parking lot wanted my car.”

The whistle again. A low, mournful sound, a freight train at midnight. “Your neighbors will be watching out for you here,” he promised.

She liked the sound of that. “Well, I’m off to see Helen Henry, one of those very people.”

“Ms. Henry? Now there’s a character. She’ll get you quilting. See if she don’t.”

“Little chance of that.”

He stuck out his hand. “We’ll shake on it. And you can buy me a six-pack of some fancy microbrew when you go off to buy those needles and pins you’ll need.”

“And what do I get if you’re wrong?”

“Heck, I’ll shave ten bucks off your bill.”

She extended her hand. “It’s a deal.”

With a smile on her face, she returned to the house for her car keys.

Kendra went out for breakfast first, which meant a trip to the Milestone Restaurant, a glorified truck stop with a buffet. She read the paper and indulged in pancakes and sausage, although she left most of her food on her plate. Between articles, she listened to the men who drove the big rigs comparing war stories. By the time she finished she thought it was late enough to visit Helen and Cissy.

She pulled up in front of their place just in time to see Cissy backing out in the old pickup. Cissy rolled down her window, and Kendra went to say hello. A blond toddler with pigtails sticking straight out from both sides of her head and eyes as big as the world around her was sitting in a car seat beside her, singing to herself.

“Meet Reese,” Cissy said. “Reese, this is Miss Kendra.”

Reese turned to assess her. She was absolutely adorable in a green smocked dress and tiny white tennis shoes with bells tied in the bows. Kendra’s traitorous biological clock ticked a little faster.

“Hello, Reese,” she said. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“You got cookies?”

Kendra managed a laugh. “How old are you?”

Reese raised an eyebrow.

“Old enough not to ask for things she can’t have this early. She’s two and a half.” Cissy turned to her daughter. “No cookies.”

Reese pouted.

Cissy ignored her. “My brother’s home from school today, and we’re going off to buy him some new shoes. Caleb lives up the road with the Claibornes.” She lowered her voice. “If I’m any judge, Reese’s grandma will have homemade doughnuts waiting when we pick him up.”

Kendra had never lived in a place where family ties were such an ever present and somewhat convoluted part of daily life. “Reese is precious. And smart.”

“Her nickname is Hellion.”

“Is Mrs. Henry up? Will I disturb her?”

“She’s up with the sun every morning. Reese helps with that—don’t you, girl?”

Reese went back to her song, in no language Kendra had ever heard.

“I’ll just go up and visit with her a while,” Kendra said. “If you don’t think she’ll mind?”

“She’ll mind if you don’t. She fretting a lot, you being out there by yourself and all. Do her good to see you getting around so well.”

“I’ll tell her about the renovation. Rosslyn and Rosslyn are going to take down the old barn and add some rooms to the house. And right now Cash is putting up a railing along the steps, so when Zeke comes back, he won’t have to worry.”

“Sorry he couldn’t get to it first, but he had a bluegrass festival just ripe for some banjo picking. You’ll make Ms. Henry’s day. Ms. Henry, she’s happiest when people do what she tells them.”

Kendra stepped back and waved, and Cissy put the truck in Reverse again and drove off. Some would say Cissy was too young to be a mother. But she seemed to be doing a good job with her little girl. Kendra wondered at the way things fell into place.

Up on Helen’s porch, she knocked cautiously on the screen door.

Helen trundled into the room to push it open. “Look who’s here.”

“You feel like a visitor?”

They chatted a little. Kendra turned down more coffee, and Helen gave her a quick tour of the downstairs. This was an old Virginia farmhouse with a comfortable, if not perfectly assembled, ambience. Paint and decorator touches were attractive and recent. Kendra suspected another’s hand in that, perhaps Helen’s daughter or granddaughter.

She knew that Elisa had lived here before marrying Sam, and that Helen’s offer of lodging had been a godsend. Cissy and Zeke lived here now with Reese, supposedly to keep an eye on Helen. But Kendra wasn’t really sure who was taking care of whom. Helen Henry was a kinder woman than she wanted anyone to know.

“Where do you do your quilting?” Kendra asked. “I’ve seen some of your work. It’s spectacular.”

Helen pointed to the ceiling. “Up there in my bedroom. Just something I learned as a girl. We all quilted then. We had regular quilting bees in this house when I was growing up, out in the parlor. Sometimes even Leah Spurlock joined us, though she wasn’t much of a needlewoman.”

The lead-in was too perfect. “You know, Helen, I’m here because I want to talk about Leah.”

“You had a chance to talk to Manning Rosslyn yet?”

“I did. But I haven’t really been straight with either of you. And I wanted to clear that up.”

“This sounds like it might be interesting.”

Helen went back into the living room and settled on the sofa. Kendra took a seat across from her.

“We didn’t buy our property,” Kendra said. “It was left to my husband. By Leah.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, that sounds fishy. Leah died a long time ago.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I got nothing but time. Not sure how much, as a matter of fact, so you ought to dive right in.”

Kendra made herself comfortable. “Isaac, my husband, is Rachel Spurlock’s son. We know Rachel ran away from Toms Brook when she was in her teens. We don’t know much about what she did or where she went afterward, but we do know at one point she ended up in Kansas City. She was in her thirties by then, old enough to know better, but she gave birth to Isaac, then gave him up for adoption.”

“If she gave him up, how come Leah left the boy her cabin and land?”

“That’s where it gets interesting. Everything we do know, we know from Leah’s stepson, Mark Jackson. He’s an attorney out in California now.”

“I might remember him, from when he was a boy here. Lived over at the other end of the county, so I didn’t see him much, but his mother and daddy would stop by my vegetable stand in town. I remember them that way.”

“You probably know this part. Leah nursed Mark’s mother. The mother was sick a long time, and Mark said Leah was faithful and gentle to the end. Even though he was young, he remembers his mother telling him no one could have been kinder. Some years later, Leah and Mark’s father, Tom, met again and decided to marry. She moved to New Market with him. Mark was almost grown by then, but she finished raising him. Apparently the Jacksons were happy together, and Mark has nothing but good things to say about Leah.”

Helen considered this for a moment. “Not many people had anything bad to say. She was a pretty woman, and a pretty woman by herself, well, it sets other women watching, if you know what I mean. I was a widow, too. Me, I didn’t have a thing to worry about like that, since I turned old before my time, but Leah, well, she caught more than one man’s eye, and some of them were married. But there was never anything that went on I ever heard about. She was a good Christian woman, and she didn’t encourage men, and that’s a fact.”