No Shadow (Prodigal Sons of Cane) (4 page)

Now she’d be
more nervous than ever, and he’d probably make her mad again.

“I’m pretty
sure he doesn’t like me,” she said. “He might take it the wrong way.”

“That’s not
your responsibility.” Her father smiled at her—a wide, compelling smile that
was exactly like hers. “What do I always say?”

Helen smiled
back. Knew the words by heart. “Do the right thing and let God take care of the
rest.”

On Monday, Helen worked up the
courage to talk to Andrew again.

She decided to
stop by his house after work. She could have telephoned, but cold calls were
the bane of her existence. She always felt more comfortable in person. If he
wasn’t at home when she got there, at least she could take comfort in having
made the effort.

She drove
through town, slowed down briefly by the line of traffic through Main Street.

Cane was built
in a valley of the Appalachian Mountains. Cane College was on one side of the
town, and the older homes on the other. In between was a small downtown area
with a number of businesses, a few restaurants, and a small independent grocery
store.

Most people who
lived in Cane had been born there, except for those who moved to work at the
college and the few families who worked in the larger towns nearby but lived in
Cane because of the affordable housing.

When Helen
turned down a wide, tree-lined street, she couldn’t help but admire the large
historic houses, even though she’d seen them for years. The Cane house was at
the end of Oak Street, its grounds extending all the way up the mountain.

She felt
flutters of anxiety in her belly as she got out of her car and walked up to the
stately Georgian home. The Cane house had three stories and eight bedrooms. As
a kid, she’d thought it was a mansion.

Helen wasn’t
nearly as shy now as she’d been as a girl, but she still preferred to talk with
people she knew, with people she was sure would welcome her presence. Who knew
how Andrew would greet her?

She saw his fancy
black SUV in the drive and pushed away her judgmental assessment of how much
the vehicle must have cost. Probably more than the house she lived in.

Andrew was
obviously home. It was time for her to get this over with.

She prayed
silently as she rang the doorbell.

The door was
answered by a middle-aged woman who told her no one was home.

Helen frowned,
glancing over to what she knew was Andrew’s SUV. Surely he hadn’t brought more
than one car to Cane. Maybe he’d walked somewhere. Or maybe he was home and
didn’t want to see her.

There was
nothing she could do about it, so she forced back her annoyance at what felt
like a dismissal and smiled politely at the woman who must be a housekeeper.

Walking back to
her car, she saw a flicker of movement from the trees that lined the yard
before it transitioned into woods that sloped up the mountain. She turned her
head quick enough to catch someone darting behind the trees.

“Hello?” she
called out, “I just came over to…” Her voice trailed off as no one appeared.

She knew she’d
seen someone, but she couldn’t imagine Andrew Cane lurking in the trees, hiding
from her. The image of the strong, authoritative man doing such a thing tickled
her humor, and she had a private giggle about it.

Her curiosity
getting the better of her, she walked across the yard toward the trees.
“Hello?”

She peered
through the line of trees, seeing a creek running through the side yard,
parallel to the driveway. She also noticed a tire swing on one of the largest
trees. This must have been a great place to grow up.

“Hello?”

Still no
answer. She decided to give up. She could hardly trespass in someone else’s
yard just because she was sure someone was hiding from her.

She started to
turn around when she heard a whimper.

The pitiful
sound came from farther up toward the house. It sounded distinctly like someone
was in pain.

Her crisis
instinct triggered, she hurried toward the sound, avoiding tree roots and
wishing she weren’t wearing her granny boots because the high heels kept
sinking into the soft ground.

The whimper
sounded again, and this time was accompanied by scrabbling noises. She located
it as coming from what appeared to be a hatch door in the ground.

With a flare of
panic, she wondered if a child had fallen in. “Hello? Is someone hurt?”

No answer. Just
more whimpers and scrabbles.

Helen ran over
and squatted down to peer into the hatch door opening. It must be an old dugout
root cellar, over which the shed had been torn down long ago. It was dark down
in the cellar, but she saw something moving when her eyes adjusted.

“Are you all
right?” she called down, her voice a bit shaky.

When she heard
the next whimper she realized it wasn’t human, and she soon made out the form
of a light-colored dog on the dirt floor several feet down.

“Poor little
thing,” she murmured. “Did you fall in?”

Without
thinking, she climbed down the ladder, wishing she’d chosen to wear slacks
today instead of the plaid A-line skirt. The ladder was rather rickety, but it
held together as she descended.

The cellar was
dark and musty, and the poor little dog tried to slink away from her at first.
It limped, however, and couldn’t get very far.

After she’d
coaxed it into submission, she ran her hands over its body and discovered that
the back right leg was what made it jerk away from her hands.

“Poor old
fellow,” she said in a cheerful voice, “Let’s see if we can get you out of
here.”

She picked it
up and realized it was heavier than she’d thought. Close to thirty pounds. When
she approached the ladder, she realized her problem. The ladder wasn’t stable.
She’d need both hands to get out of here, and she couldn’t hold the dog and
climb at the same time.

She put the dog
down and her heart clenched in sympathy as it whimpered. “I know it’s bad. I’ll
get some help and be right back. I promise.”

She climbed up,
and when her head emerged, she blinked in the daylight. Then she saw another
flicker of motion to her right, in the trees.

This time, she
caught sight of a slight young woman with shiny brown hair. “Oh, hi there,”
Helen called out. “Can you help? There’s an injured dog down here, and I can’t
get it up myself.”

The woman froze
in place. She was dressed in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. She had a pretty,
delicate face and a terrified expression.

“I don’t think
it’s serious,” Helen clarified, assuming the woman must think there was a
serious emergency. “But can you stand up here at the top and take the dog when
I hand him out?”

The other woman
still didn’t move.

Not
understanding the hesitance, Helen added, “It’s not dangerous. I’ll go down and
get him. Just come to the hatch door, will you? He’s a nice little fellow. He
won’t bite.”

She started
down the ladder again, assuming anyone with half a heart would respond to her
request and come to help her.

When she got to
the bottom and picked up the dog, she saw the young woman’s anxious face peeking
down. She looked college-aged, maybe a little older. Her straight hair was cut
in a stylish bob, and her skin was a perfect pale ivory.

Helen had to
balance a couple of rungs up on the ladder before she could reach the other
woman’s outstretched hands. She sighed in relief when the stranger was able to
pull the dog out of the cellar.

Quickly, Helen
ascended the ladder, but near the top one of the rungs snapped. She lost her
balance, and her hands slid on the old wood, causing stings of pain as she
picked up multiple splinters.

Unable to catch
herself, Helen landed back on the dirt floor with a jarring thud.

There was a
gasp from the hatch opening. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Helen
said, orienting herself enough to assess the damage. She managed to stand up,
wincing a little at the bruises she’d probably have on her rear end. “Just sat
down hard.”

She tried the
climb again, winded and little dizzy from the hard impact. Her hands burned
painfully. She managed to get up by skipping the broken rung, and the girl
helped heave her out through the hatch door.

“Thanks,” Helen
said, carefully lowering herself to the grass and wiping her forehead with the
back of her hand. “Does he look all right?”

“I think it’s
just his leg,” the girl said in an oddly breathless voice. “It was nice of you
to go get him.”

“As if I’d
leave him down there hurt and alone. Does he have tags? Do you know who he
belongs to?”

For the first
time, Helen wondered who the girl was.

“He looks like
a stray.”

“Then we’ll
have to get help for the little guy.”

The young woman
scanned Helen’s messy hair, dirty face, and bloodied hands. “I think we better
fix you up first. Come on into the house.”

Helen stumbled
to her feet and followed, astonished and curious about the relationship of the
girl to the Canes.

The housekeeper
opened the door for them. “Missy! Are you all right? What happened?” The woman
stared at Helen with what looked like blank horror.

Confused, Helen
said, “We had a little adventure.”

“She climbed
down into the old dugout to rescue this poor dog.” The young woman’s voice
still wavered a little, and her gray eyes were huge and nervous. “But she hurt
herself.”

“Just some splinters,”
Helen added.

“Let me go get
something to take care of it,” the housekeeper said, “If you’re all right,
Missy.”

It was odd how
she hovered, as if the girl might faint away.

“I’m fine.
Thank you.” When the housekeeper left the front living room, she added, “I’m
Melissa.”

“I’m Helen.
Thanks for your help.”

Melissa still
looked horribly anxious, but Helen figured maybe she was just shy. Helen knew
all about shyness.

“I came by to
see Andrew Cane,” she explained, hoping the transition might lead into an
explanation of the girl’s identity.

Melissa seemed
to live here. It was possible she was Andrew’s live-in girlfriend, but she
looked to be almost fifteen years younger than he was. Although Helen didn’t
know much about Andrew’s lifestyle, the idea didn’t quite fit.

“He’s not
here,” Melissa said. “He walked down to get us some supper. I felt like
takeout.”

Helen forced
herself not to pry, although the effort to suppress her questions was almost
painful. “Have you been in Cane long?” she asked, seeking a topic to distract
her. “I’ve lived here most of my life. I know almost everyone.”

“Andrew and I
just got here at the end of last week.”

Dying to be
nosy, Helen’s lips actually parted with a follow-up question before she stopped
herself.

Melissa’s wide
mouth tilted up a little, as if she recognized Helen’s curiosity. “I’m his
sister.”

Helen exhaled
in relief at the answer, but then she stiffened in confusion. “I didn’t know he
had a sister. I thought there were just the three boys.”

“I’m his
half-sister. After our mother left Cane, she remarried.”

Helen nodded
and made an appropriate response. It seemed strange that no one in Cane knew
about the sister, but it was none of her business. Perhaps the locals weren’t
as well-informed on the Canes as they thought.

In just another
minute, the housekeeper, who Melissa called Trish, returned with some first-aid
supplies and helped remove Helen’s splinters and then treat the wounds with
antiseptic wash.

Melissa stroked
the dog lovingly as Trish worked. The dog was a mutt of some kind with short
ears and a pointy nose. It stared up at Melissa with adoring brown eyes.

“We should get
it to the vet,” Helen said. “Did you want to take it?”

She’d thought
it a sensible question, since Melissa and the dog had obviously bonded, but the
girl gasped loudly and shrank back in her chair.

Helen wrinkled
her forehead. “I don’t mind doing it. He seems like a nice fellow. I’d keep him,
but I rent and am not allowed to have a dog. I guess we could take him to the
pound after getting its leg treated.” She hated the idea but didn’t know what
else to do.

“Oh no!”
Melissa cried.

Really confused
now, Helen asked, “Did you want to keep him then?”

“Yes.”
Melissa’s voice was thin and stretched. “I just can’t take him to the vet.” She
turned pleading eyes up to Trish.

Helen was about
to follow up when a voice bellowed from the doorway. “What
is
this?
What’s going on?” Andrew stepped into the room, his face angry and defensive.

She jumped in
surprise, momentarily intimidated by his unexpected presence.

Melissa, whom
Helen would have expected to shrink back at the loud voice, broke out into a
sunny smile. “You’re home!”

Andrew strode
over to where they were sitting, his hard eyes fastened coldly on Helen. “What
are you doing with my sister?”

Her mouth dropped
open. He was acting like she’d done something wrong, like she was some sort of
threat. “What?”

“Andrew, it’s
all right,” Melissa put in softly. “She and I helped rescue this poor little
dog.”

His gray
eyes—the same color as his sister’s—narrowed as he looked from one woman to the
other. “Are you all right, Melissa?”

Helen sucked in
an indignant breath and bristled at the implications.

“Yes,” Melissa
said. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. The dog needed help.”

The dog started
whimpering, and it distracted Andrew momentarily. He studied the animal a
minute and then ran his hands over the furry body, assessing its health with a
gentleness that astounded Helen—after having been treated so rudely by him. “It
needs to go the vet,” he concluded.

“We were just
discussing that,” Helen put in, pleased that her voice sounded cool and natural.
“I’m happy to take it, and it sounds like Melissa wants to keep the dog.”

Andrew looked
over at her again, studying her tumbled hair, her smudged face, bandaged hands,
and dirty clothes. His expression was torn between bewilderment and suspicion.
“I can take the dog to the vet if Melissa wants to keep it.”