She Waits (2 page)

"Ryan? Hmm, well, Miss Ryan, my name is Hannah Winfield and this ungracious young woman is my niece, Margaret Winfield."

I searched the younger Miss Winfield's face. The name seemed familiar somehow. I stuck out my hand. "Margaret Winfield, it's a pleasure," I offered as I gazed down into the blue eyes.

"Miss Ryan, delighted," she said, oozing sarcasm as she took my hand.

I took her small hand in mine and it dawned on me who she was. Jan and Barb had been telling me about this girl. I remembered our conversation distinctly now: "We have a friend we think might be able to use your help, the way you helped Jan last year. She lives in a small town near Galena. Her name is Maggie Winfield..."

Crap...

Chapter Two

I was dumbfounded. What were the odds of meeting her like this?

Hannah broke my thoughts. "Well now, what say we get off the road before we're all run over? How about we take my cart?"

She was serious. She frightened me. "How about we leave the Hannahmobile here and take my car?" I offered hopefully.

We all looked at my car, nestled against the maple tree. I turned to my companions. Hannah grinned evilly.

"The Hannahmobile?" she offered. "I'll let you drive."
Yeah, that was a big incentive.

As soon as we got into the cart, my daffy dog immediately attacked Hannah's face, slobbering all over her. Hannah laughed and ruffled her ears. Margaret climbed in the back and my fickle canine immediately found her new best friend and laid her head on Margaret's lap. What a colossal traitor.

As I was about to pull away, a truck with a trailer pulled up and an elderly gentleman got out.

Hannah leaned across me, and screeched right in my ear, "Bedford! Bedford, for heaven's sakes!" She looked to me. "It's Bedford, and he's a little hard of hearing." Again, she shrieked, "Bedford, over here!"

"It's Bedford," I said simply to Chance.

I glanced at Margaret. I almost saw a smile.

Bedford made his way over to my side of the car with a terrible limp, and, for some absurd reason, the face of Dracula's insect-eating ghoul, Renfield, flashed through my mind. I tiredly rubbed the back of my neck. I glanced at my watch--much too early for a cocktail.

Bedford leaned so far into the cart that I thought that he was going to climb right in with us. "Good morning, Miss Winfield," he said.

"Good morning, Bedford," came simultaneous replies.

Hannah leaned past me and looked out at Bedford. "Bedford, take the creature back to the stables. Under no circumstance is anyone to ride that beast." She turned and looked at her niece. "And I mean anyone."

I glanced back, Miss Winfield said nothing.

"Yes, ma'am." Bedford went to the horse.

The minute the horse saw him, he snorted and stamped, so it took Bedford several minutes to get him into the trailer. I had no idea how the diminutive Miss Winfield managed to stay on that horse.

"Well now, let's be off," Hannah ordered.

I started the cart and promptly received different directions from each woman.

Hannah was chattering away with her niece as we pulled onto another tree-lined road, which took us deeper into the woods. I was suddenly aware of an anxious feeling sweeping through me. You know that feeling of anticipation one has when starting an adventurous vacation? I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I glanced around the quiet woods. No, this anxious feeling in my gut was not the thrill of an adventure. When the sprawling estate burst into the view, I shivered quickly and found myself glancing nervously around the quiet woods. I glanced at Hannah Winfield. Why did these two women suddenly become quiet?

Hidden back in the woods was a sprawling two-story Georgian brick with an enormous greenhouse attached on the left, and a very large garage on the right, complete with what looked like a small apartment over it.

Radiant burnt-orange ivy covered the front of the house and I could only imagine how many rooms there were. A path led from the house to a stable back on the left about thirty yards away, and then off into the woods.

I pulled up the circular drive and stopped at the front door. When I got out, Chance also jumped out and began running around in circles as if for dear life.

"Don't worry, let her run, poor thing," Hannah said.

I turned to Margaret and saw her struggling to get out of the back of the cart. I went and offered my hand without saying a word. She looked up, said nothing, and took my hand. She started to walk, but couldn't.

Hannah screeched for Bedford again. Like nails on a blackboard, it went right through me.

"Oy," I mumbled as my eyes crossed. I had such a headache.

By her reaction, I could tell Miss Winfield felt the same. "Christ, it's too early in the morning for this. Aunt Hannah, please, I don't need Bedford. I can get in the house fine."

"You say Christ far too much for my liking, young lady. Why in the world do you use that word so much?" Hannah asked.

"I was wondering the same thing myself." I couldn't help myself as I felt the blue eyes glaring.

"Can we just get into the house?" Margaret asked vehemently, slowly limping toward the front door.

"Oh, all right, but once we get inside I'm calling Doc Jenkins," Hannah said.

Once inside, I felt very much at home, but still the anxious feeling nagged. Dark oak gave the foyer a warm, cozy feeling. What you first noticed was the large staircase as you enter the foyer. To the left was what I assumed was a library, or perhaps a den, and to the right, a living room.

So, being totally female, or more correctly, just plain nosy, I craned my neck to see into the living room, wondering what lay beyond. "Which way do we go, Miss Winfield?"

"Let's go into the living room, to the right," she said. She sounded exhausted.

I helped her to the couch and propped her foot up on a pillow. I didn't take her boot off because I remembered a bit of first aid: Never, ever, remove a shoe if you sprain an ankle, because it will blow up like a huge blowfish. I'd just let the doctor do that when he got there so I could blame him.

Hannah appeared wheeling in a small teacart. "Miss Ryan--may I call you Kate?"

"Please, we've been through far too much in one morning to be formal," I said.

"Good, then I shall call you Kate, and you can call me Hannah, or Aunt Hannah if you prefer." She seemed so excited. I could tell she loved having people around. She looked at her niece. "Now, what about you, dear?"

"I would prefer not to be called Aunt Hannah or Kate if you don't mind."

I chuckled at that one. Hannah wasn't that amused, or at least she didn't show it.

"Don't be sarcastic, you know what I mean. Do you want Kate to call you Maggie or Margaret or just plain stubborn?"

"I opt for just plain stubborn," I said.

"Whatever."

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Hannah looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Call her Maggie." She went to Maggie and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear, all will work out. I'll call Doc right away."

I sat down in an unbelievably comfortable chair across from Maggie. I took a cup from the tray. "Would you like coffee or tea?" I asked.

"Tea, plain, would be perfect," she said.

As I poured her tea, Hannah announced that the doctor would arrive any minute.

"Aunt Hannah, I'm all right. I'm just tired," Maggie admitted, sounding every bit of it.

"Nonsense, I'll not have my niece splattered all over the road and not have her properly looked after," she said and then saw my horrified look. "No offense Kate."

Maggie offered a smug grin. "You want to see Doc, that's all."

"Why you little... I never heard such drivel! You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Hannah blustered and stalked back toward what I presumed was the kitchen.

We sat drinking our tea in relative silence until Maggie said, "So, what brings you to our little hamlet, besides the urge to knock people off their horses?"

I decided to ignore her accusation. "I heard about your town from a friend of mine. She said she'd driven through a few months ago and said it was quite picturesque. I thought I could get a few good shots this time of year. So, here I am." It was
almost
the whole truth, but I still felt uncomfortable lying to her.

"So, I gather you're some kind of amateur picture taker," she said.

"Amateur? I'll have you know that in my circle, I am much respected."

"Pretty small circle?"

"Small circle?" I replied, feeling like parrot. "Look, do you know how close I came to winning the..." I looked away and shook my head. "Why am I explaining myself to you?"

Hannah came out of the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. "I can hear you all the way in the kitchen, what's going on?"

"Aunt Hannah, did you know we were in the company of a great photographer?" Maggie asked.

I looked up at the ceiling, and counted to ten.

"I thought I recognized you! Margaret, dear, this is the photographer I told you about last month," she said, looking at me. "Her photos have been all over. I understand they're in great demand by wildlife and conservation journals across the Midwest. Didn't your photos of that beautiful bird help the conservationists in Wisconsin? I thought I read about that somewhere."

My mouth dropped open. I had no idea anyone would remember that--it was three years ago.

Hannah looked at her niece, who looked as dumbfounded as I. "Yes sweetie, she's
that
Kate Ryan. Now close your mouth and apologize." She turned, took her teacart, and just like that she was gone, again.

We both stared at the door like a couple of idiots then laughed. I offered my hand to Maggie. "Pax?"

She looked surprised. "Pax," she finally agreed, shaking my hand.

I was slightly impressed she knew the Latin term for peace. It's not that unheard of, but I was impressed nonetheless. "I didn't think someone your age would know Latin."

"
My
age?"

The doorbell rang and, like a bat out of hell, Hannah flew out of the kitchen to answer it. For a second I thought she was wearing roller skates.

I couldn't quite make out what was said at the door, but Hannah quickly ushered in a handsome elderly gentleman--and I do mean
gentleman
.

His hair is what struck me first. It was thick, wavy and snow white. He was at least 6'2" with steely blue eyes and an Errol Flynn-type mustache. He looked at Maggie, then me, then back at Maggie.

"Well young lady, what is it this time?" he asked gruffly.

"She knocked me off my horse," Maggie said, accusingly.

I stood there gaping, not saying a word.

"Really? I heard you were on Thunder," he said then turned to Hannah and me. "Would you two excuse me? I have to examine the patient."

As we walked to the kitchen, I heard Maggie say to the old doctor, "I'm fine, Doc, nothing broken. A mild sprain I'm sure..."

The kitchen was enormous, light and airy with counter space everywhere. An island in the middle was surrounded by four barstools. We sat at a breakfast area in the far corner, in front of a huge picture window that had a lovely view of the surrounding woods.

"I am sorry about all this, Hannah. I feel very responsible," I said.

"Nonsense, you've done nothing. Margaret should never have been on Thunder. He's got a wild streak in him. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"If I'd been going a little faster, or if your niece was riding a little faster, which is hard to imagine, she could have been seriously hurt. But I have to wonder why she was riding that wild horse so fast, especially on a main road." I stopped and gave Hannah an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I ask too many questions. Comes from my father, the detective."

She watched me for a long moment then looked out the window. "Do you know that I've lived here my whole life? Nothing stays the same, you know. Everything changes, and not always for the better." She looked directly at me. "Not always for the better."

A shiver ran up my spine at her uneasy tone. I really should have stayed home and done the laundry.

Hannah smiled as we sat at the kitchen table. "I can tell you're intrigued, but I hope it's not a story, or photos, for your magazine that you're after. Kate, my dear, you have an honest face, and I like you."

I felt guilty. I had to tell them I knew more about them than I was letting on. "Hannah, before you go on, I have to tell you. I know two of Maggie's friends. They spoke with me a while ago and told me about Maggie. This morning, when this happened, I swear I had no idea who you were. Then, when it dawned on me, I--"

"Kate, you don't need to explain. I remember talking to those nice girls as well. They told me of a friend of theirs who might help. It's you?"

"Yes, but--"

She put her hand on mine. "I'm going to tell you a little story. I believe I can trust you. It will feel good to tell someone. Where should I start? Six months ago, Maggie's father, my brother, Jonathan Winfield, was killed in a hit-and-run accident in Chicago."

"Hit-and-run? Did they ever find the guy?" I asked.

"No. The driver was never found," Hannah replied, sadly.

"I'm sorry for interrupting."

"That's all right, dear. Now, about two months ago, certain curious things began happening. I suppose I should let Margaret tell you about them. To be honest, I think she needs someone to talk to. Someone objective, like you. She's been so cut off from everyone of late. You're actually the first outsider to come into this house in several months. Maggie's barely gone to visit friends even." She Hannah seemed agitated, looking away from me before saying, "Well, there is Allison, but who actually wants her around anyway?"

I was curious about this last comment especially. However, I said nothing as she continued.

"I worry about her. She needs to join the human race again and see people other than family. Although lately family seems to be all we have. You see our family all live relatively close. My other brother, Nathan, and his wife, Sarah, live about a quarter mile west. This estate is somewhat of a compound, so to speak. I probably shouldn't bother you with our family details, but it does feel good to talk to someone detached from this," she finished with a tired smile.