Secrets (60 page)

The whole thing had kept her awake all night, producing a wonderful freestanding closet and raccoon circles under her eyes. That wouldn’t matter as long as he didn’t see her, and he wouldn’t see her if she just had something to do. Evvy. She had said she’d visit Evvy and if she did it now, while he was cleaning up, Lance wouldn’t try to come along.

Rese left the shed and took the driveway to the street, then headed for Evvy’s house, but her steps jammed. The ambulance parked in the driveway made no sound, but the lights … Her throat closed up. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t move. Waves of terror; Mom swaying like a branch in the wind.
“Go to sleep, Theresa.”

She started to shake. Her feet had sunk into the concrete, were concrete themselves. Her neighbors stood outside the door, the two night nurses. They must have called for the ambulance. They must have checked on Evvy when they’d come home from their shift. As she watched, the medics came out with the stretcher, the form on it covered completely.

Rese staggered, groped for something, then felt the hand on her back. She turned, and Lance took hold of her. They weren’t supposed to touch, but she was not reminding him.
“Everything will be different in the morning.”
She closed her eyes as memories surfaced so powerfully she felt herself lifted and borne, the oxygen mask pressed to her face.

She drew hard, shallow breaths, fighting for control, hating the helplessness. Even then she had fought it, swearing she would never be helpless again. She tried to pull back, but inertia had claimed her limbs.

“It’s all right,” Lance murmured.

It wasn’t, and it never would be. She couldn’t just put away the experience as though no one had tried to kill her. It was embedded deep inside.
“Poison gas. Breathe in. Breathe in.”

His arms closed tighter. “It’s okay, Rese.”

She fought to come out of herself. She wasn’t the one on the stretcher. It was Evvy. And that brought a sorrow of its own. “She’s gone.”

“She was ready. I sensed it last night.”

“I should have gone with you.”

He rubbed her back. “There’s no place for should-haves.”

Wasn’t there? It seemed like that was all she had.

“She gave you something.” He eased her away and took a carved bird from his pocket. “There are four of them. Ralph did the carving. She thought you’d appreciate them.”

She took the bird and stroked the whittled lines. Not a masterful job, but he’d captured the essence. She looked into Lance’s face. “I wish I could have thanked her.”

“That’s why I tried to catch you. I was going to give them to you before you went over, but you slipped out.”

She looked away, sorry for the reminder.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t know. Seeing the ambulance…” Panic seized her again, but she fought it down.

“I guessed as much.”

He would have. “Will it ever go away?”

“It’ll get better. Especially now that you’re dealing with it.”

Was she? Did freaking out at the sight of an ambulance and accosting him yesterday mean she was dealing with it?

He eased her into motion and she made her legs work. They went in through the gate but not up to the door. Instead he cut over to the side of the house, around the almond tree and behind the sweet bushy honeysuckle.“This’ll do.”

“For what?”

He didn’t answer, just kissed her long and deep.

What was he trying to do, keep her so off-balance she couldn’t find her feet? “I thought we weren’t doing that.”

“That was yesterday.” He clamped her head between his palms. “New rules.”

She rolled her eyes. What good were rules that changed for every situation?

“Kissing and hugging only. Oh, and neck rubs—you need them.”

“Does it do any good to say no?”

“Only if you mean it.”

Did she? “How good is your memory?”

“If you’re referring to yesterday against the truck…”

She grimaced.

“It’s stupendous.” He tipped her face up. “I’ll just consider that your bid.”

She frowned. “Will you be taking others?”

“As I recall, you rejected my counter offer.”

And there went her legs again. “You weren’t serious.”

“Wasn’t I?”

Rese stiffened as the ambulance drove by from Evvy’s, but the paralysis was passing. Maybe she was facing it, taking hold of what happened and dealing with it. Just as she had with the pranks and struggles she’d handled before. Affliction causing endurance causing character causing hope. Maybe, just maybe…

Lance had spent the early morning hours in prayer, begging the Lord for answers. He had searched out and denounced every selfish desire connected to the situation: his attachment to the property, his sense of family entitlement, his sense of injustice, his longing for rectitude, his craving for Rese, his fear for Nonna.
Just give me a sign!

He’d come back from church and made breakfast, still uncertain in his mind. But watching Rese stagger at the sight of the ambulance was sign enough. No wonder she’d panicked when he threatened to call one for her. It wasn’t a conveyance of life and hope; it was part of a nightmare. People had hurt her, but he wouldn’t be one of them.

Evvy was gone. The thought brought a slow, seeping sadness, even though he had sensed her peace last night, her readiness. It would have been a quiet step from this world to the next, and a pretty good time at the other end. He would miss her wit, her spunk, even her scolding.

She had trusted him with something important to her, and he didn’t take that lightly. He couldn’t give back the deed, couldn’t tell her it compromised Rese, or that he knew Antonia. All he could do was handle it as he saw best. Rese had bought the place on good faith. And Nonna had all those years, while people held the deed, to go back if she’d wanted.

How he’d tell Nonna that, he wasn’t sure. And how he’d explain it all to Rese was even less clear. That was the problem with departing from the truth to start with. Chaz would agree. But he’d made a commitment to Rese. They were partners in the business, a responsibility he intended to fulfill. And Rese might not believe it, but he wouldn’t have asked her what he did yesterday if it wasn’t a possibility taking greater hold of him every day.

He would try to understand what Nonna needed, but she would have to see Rese’s side as well. He hadn’t expected it to line up that way, and he didn’t want to fail Nonna, but the time had come to choose from the possibilities. And the hammer-wielding woman making the best of a traumatic past and a daunting future paled every other choice.

Rese Barrett was brave and determined, frustrating, amusing, and in need of everything he offered. He didn’t care how long it took for her to come to the same conclusion. This time he would see it through.

He went into the carriage house and nodded at Vittorio. “I’ll introduce you soon.” He would have to communicate with Nonna, go there maybe, during a gap in the reservations that seemed to be coming in spurts and bunches so far. He could show Nonna what he had and hope it was enough.

He took out the box that held the things from the attic, the book and letter from Conchessa, and the deed. He laid it all out on the table. It wasn’t much to offer, except for the deed, the one thing he’d fight her on if he had to; the property belonged to Rese.

He started to gather it all up, then remembered the briefcase from the cache in the cellar. He had shoved it against a rack as they scrambled to close things up when Star came down. In the panic of it all, he’d left it there. He shook his head, exasperated. It could hold all the answers he hadn’t found, and he’d left it lying in the cellar.

Rese was napping after her all-nighter finishing the wardrobe he and Chaz had carried in earlier. It was beautiful, and she had drawn plans for a real table and chairs, but she didn’t put up much of a fight when he told her to sleep first. They would lick that insomnia somehow, but right now he was glad she slept. The guys were in the attic teaching Star songs, and once Rico got going he wouldn’t stop.

Flashlight in hand, Lance opened the hatch and went down, stopping at Quillan’s side, not to explain exactly—it was only bones after all, bones that had lain undisturbed for over seventy years—but to confirm the sense that it was almost over.

The air was cool and still, not chilly or damp, but he felt a shiver up his spine. What did the briefcase hold? Proof of misdeeds? The reason for Vito’s murder? Answers, or more questions?

He got through the racks to the one they had pushed aside. The briefcase listed against the next rack over.
Let it be the answer, Lord
. He squatted down and propped the light up. The clasp was the sort that could be locked, but it wasn’t. Pulse quickening, he opened the briefcase.

There were brown envelopes inside with little cardboard disks and string to hold them closed. He unfastened one and removed the papers inside. A photograph of a man and a couple of handwritten pages that seemed to be a dossier: name, age, marital status, employer. Then it got more detailed: who he talked to and when, dates, times, and money amounts.

Lance slid the papers back and opened another. Probably more of the same. But the name jumped out at him.
Jackson, Arthur Tremaine
. The name Jackson struck him for obvious reasons, but where had he heard Arthur? It had to be from Sybil, but what had she said?

He racked his brain back to their early conversations. Banking. Her family was in banking and … her great-grandfather. Didn’t she say Arthur? Or was he just trying to make it fit? He sat back on his heels. This one read like a who’s who of American families. A prominent banker would be expected to meet with such people, but at four A.M.?

He pushed the papers back into the envelope. Without a careful study, he couldn’t tell what they were or what they’d been intended for, but they’d been hidden in a cache in a cellar for seventy years—a cache with enough bundled bills to raise eyebrows and suspicions, his own included.

He’d made excuses to Rico, but when it got right down to it, he might not like the answers to his questions. Lance dropped the envelope into the briefcase. Should he check the hole one last time? Star’s shriek had put the fear of God in them before they finished searching the last time. He stood and put a shoulder to the rack. With so many partial answers, he didn’t want to miss anything else.

The bundled bills lay as they’d been scooped back in, and he pressed his arm through to the bottom where his fingers found stone all around. Nothing in there, unless you counted a few hundred grand. He picked up a stack and fanned it. All twenties, and at least twenty bills in each bundle. He could use some money to get back and see Nonna, but he wasn’t about to spend it, not without knowing where it came from.

Had Vito robbed the bank? Sybil had not given a sterling impression of her great-grandfather. More likely he and Vittorio were in on something together. Then why did Vito end up dead? Double cross? Had he stashed the money for himself, thinking he’d get away with it? Lance dropped the single packet of bills into the briefcase. He’d show it all to Nonna and maybe get some answers.

He pushed the rack back into place. The scraping echoed on the stone walls, the motion jingling the empty bottles in their curved cradles. He glanced up the stairs toward the pantry entrance. Even if the sound had traveled up to the kitchen, there was no one to hear it. Thank God he’d be done with the secrecy soon. He would tell Rese everything. He just had to communicate with Nonna first, get her blessing.

He picked up the briefcase and headed back through the tunnel, past the moaning metal gate to the stairs. He would present the pieces he’d found, hope she could put them together, and pray it would be enough. His head had justed cleared the hatch when the door opened. Lance froze, but Rese stood there with his cell phone in hand.

Lord!

“It’s an emergency.” Rese held out the phone.

It hit him in the pit of his stomach as he climbed out and took the phone. “Momma?”

“It’s a minor episode. No new damage, but Nonna won’t rest until she talks to you.”

He swallowed. “Put her on.” Rese was staring at the hatch from which he’d emerged. Her confusion mingled with his fear for Nonna and the growing sense that once again he’d blown it.

There was the sound of the phone shifting hands, then, “L-l-ance.”

“I’m here, Nonna.” She was speaking, not lying unconscious like the first time. A minor episode Momma had said.

“Fin-d Nonn-o. Qu-Qu-Quil-lan.”

He closed his eyes. “I found him, Nonna.”

“Bury … him.”

Lance rubbed a hand over his face. That was what she wanted? A proper burial for her nonno? “I will, Nonna.”

“Goo-d boy.”

His eyes stung. She always thought the best of him. “Nonna, there’s other things. I have lots of questions.” Not as many as Rese must have right now, but if Nonna could just answer …

A long silence in which he pictured her struggling for words, then she ground out, “Bu-ry Nonno.”

“Okay.” He swallowed. He had way too much to worry about as it was. “I love you.”

He hung up and looked at Rese. He must have left the phone on the desk when he had processed reservations.