Sins of Summer (20 page)

“Thank you for the… underdrawers,” Jeanmarie said to Rita. Then, holding the doll tightly against her chest, she headed for
the door.

“Honey, stay here.” Dory got to her feet.

“Want to show Odette’s papa and Uncle James.”

“Maybe… later.”

“Rita will take her down and bring her back.” Marie saw the anxious look on Dory’s face. “Don’t… worry. Sit down, Dory. I
know what you’re… thinking. She’ll not disappear, I swear it.”

“It’s just that I get scared sometimes when she’s out of my sight.” Dory sat down. She could hear Jeanmarie’s chatter as she
and the woman went down the hallway.

“You’ve been afraid we’d try to… take her. To tell the truth we thought… about it.” Marie paused to catch her breath. “Stories
about you caused Chip to… think you were not… a good woman. ’Course your bobbed hair… doesn’t help.” Marie breathed rapidly,
then smiled.

“If my hair hung to my hips, it would be the same. People believe what they want to believe,” Dory said drily.

“Yes. Chip believes his son was… murdered. Nothing will change his… mind.”

Dory remained quiet. She believed with all her heart that Milo had killed the father of her child, but she couldn’t tell this
to Mick’s mother. Nor could she tell her that Chip’s disapproval had made his son so unhappy that he had been planning to
disappear from their lives. Marie Malone had enough grief to bear.

“Chip is an… honorable man for all his rough ways. He has promised me… that he will… never”—she had to pause—“never try to
separate you from your… daughter. He will keep his promise.” By the time Marie had finished, she was so out of breath that
her thin bosom heaved as she gasped for air.

“You’re tired.” Dory covered the thin hand that lay on the bed. Marie turned it and grasped Dory’s fingers. “Rest and let
me talk for a while.”

“One more thing. The… box. Presents for Christmas… for birthdays. And some things… Mick loved. A pin he made for me.” Tears
were rolling down Marie’s cheeks and she breathed rapidly. “I’d be happy if she wore it… on her… wedding day.”

Tears flooded Dory’s eyes and fell on their clasped hands. “I’ll not let her forget her father… or you.”

“Thank you.” Marie sighed and closed her eyes.

Odette placed a handkerchief in Dory’s hand. Dory first blotted the tears on Marie’s face, then wiped her own wet cheeks.

Marie opened her eyes. “I must not sleep,” she said in her weak, breathless voice. “I don’t want to miss… a minute… of your
visit.”

Dory stood and faced Odette. “Tell Jeanmarie’s grandmother what you’ve been teaching her while I get a drink of water.”

“Fresh water… in the pitcher.”

Odette seemed to know Dory needed time to get her emotions in order. She moved to the chair closest to the bed and began to
talk.

“Baby learns fast. She can count to ten.” Odette held up all ten fingers. “She knows the letters in her name and writes some
of them. She can’t put them in order yet. Jeanmarie loves the music box and the books you gave her. Oh, my how she loves books.
She likes Mother Goose rhymes best.”

Listening to Odette talking to Marie about Jeanmarie, Dory wished that Ben could hear his daughter. When they first had arrived,
he had constantly urged her to talk aloud. It occurred to Dory that she and Jeanmarie had been almost as good for Odette as
Odette had been for them.

Dory thought about how afraid she had been to come here and how glad she was now that she had come. She was no longer afraid
the Malones would try to take Jeanmarie. Marie was dying. After she was gone Chip would lose interest in his grandchild. Dory
only hoped that while they were here James would be civil and they could leave without further hostility.

The room where Ben and James waited for Chip’s return was clearly his domain. It was a masculine room with deep leather chairs,
a heavy walnut desk strewn with papers, and a bookcase, sideboard and liquor cabinet. The walls were covered with paintings
of log-rafting, bull-whackers, skid-greasers, buckers and fallers. There were several mountainous landscape scenes, and one
painting showed this very valley in the dead of winter with the house and buildings in the background. The painting on the
wall over the desk was of a man standing with his foot on a freshly felled log, an axe on his shoulder. The face was unrecognizable,
but the red hair identified the man as Chip Malone.

Ben moved closer to study the paintings. He realized they were very well done even though he was not an experienced observer
of the arts. In the lower right corner of all the paintings, so small one had to look closely to see them, were the initials
M.M.

“You like the pictures?” Chip spoke from the doorway.

“Very much. I don’t know a lot about art, but I know what I like.” Ben moved back from the wall. “Do you know the artist?”

“My son. We found them hidden away after… his death.” Chip went to the liquor cabinet. “Drink?”

“Not for me, thanks,” Ben said.

“Not for me,” James said curtly.

Chip lifted his shoulders in a shrug, poured a small amount of whiskey in a glass and tossed it down before he turned.

“Sit down. We have a short wait before mealtime.”

“You don’t have to feed us.” James sank down onto the chair nearest to him.

“That’s right. I don’t
have
to do anything, but when people come to my home, on my invitation, we offer them a meal. Get the block off your shoulder,
James. The only motive I had in getting you here was for Marie to see the little girl.”

“I’m thinking the invitation was a long time coming.”

“Yes. I admit that. Time has a way of lessening grief. Marie has only a short time left. A few weeks at the most. I’m doing
everything I can to make those weeks as happy for her as I can. Lord knows, the woman has had a lot to put up with.”

“I’m sorry about your wife. As far as I know she’s been decent to Dory and Jeanmarie when they’ve met.”

“Yes, I know about the meetings arranged by Mrs. McHenry. Frankly, I was furious at first, considering—”

“—Considering that my sister is a whore?” James jumped to his feet.

“Sit down, James. I was going to say considering the circumstances under which Mick died.”

“Hell. I had nothing to do with that.”

“I know. You were in Coeur d’Alene that week.”

“You checked on me.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t you have checked on me if the situation had been reversed?” Chip turned to Ben, abruptly changing the
subject. “Where are you from. Waller?”

“Over near Spokane—and north along the Pend Oreille Lake.”

“I’ve heard that the Pend Oreille River is a mean one for log driving.” Chip’s eyes went to James, then back to Ben.

“Not as mean as the Wishkah. There loggers have built a splash dam to hold their harvest. The problem is when they open the
gates there’s such a rush of water that many of the logs get hung up along the riverbank. And you know what that could mean.
A massive jam.”

“I’ve not been over around the Wishkah.” Again Chip’s eyes darted to James. This time they stayed. “You been over there, James?”

“No.”

Chip shrugged again, and turned back to Ben. They discussed weather, Indians, politics, the war between the states and every
other topic Chip could think of without bringing the Malone or Callahan lumber companies or the donkey engine into the conversation.

Ben realized that Chip was trying to keep the conversation impersonal and was relieved when Jeanmarie and a woman of Indian
or Mexican descent appeared in the doorway.

“Señor, I’ll be back for the niña after I speak to Consuela in the kitchen.”

Jeanmarie peeked from around the woman’s skirt and saw James. She darted across the room to him.

“Looky what the lady give me, Uncle James. I can take her home.” She placed the doll on his lap. “She’s got hands and feet
and ever’thing,” she said excitedly. “See her under-drawers. They’re like mine. See.” She swiftly lifted her dress past her
knees to reveal the legs of white drawers. “They’re like Odette’s too. She’s goin’ to show me when we get home.”

Trying to keep the grin off his face, James pulled the doll’s dress down and cradled the china head in his palm as he inspected
her face.

“What’a ya know. She’s even got a nose.”

“Uncle James! You’re… silly.” Jeanmarie giggled and grabbed the doll. “I got to show Odette’s papa.” She went to lean against
Ben’s knee. “Want to see her underdrawers?” The child’s laughing eyes looked up at him expectantly.

“Why sure. Hmmm… they match her dress.”

“Does Odette’s match her dress?”

“Well, ah… Odette’s a big girl. Guess I’ll have to ask her.”

Ben glanced at Chip. His eyes were riveted to the child. James was trying not to laugh.

“The lady that made the dress and the drawers said the dolly’s head will break.” Jeanmarie held the doll close to her, reached
up, and pulled Ben’s head down so she could whisper. “I’m not goin’ to let Uncle Louis see her.”

Ben didn’t know what to say. He was sure the other two men had heard the child’s words. In the quiet that followed, he gave
her a gentle push toward Chip.

“I bet Mr. Malone would like to see your doll.”

Ever friendly, Jeanmarie tilted her head to look at Chip.

“You got red hair,” she blurted, then giggled. “Mama said my papa had red hair. Want to see my dolly’s drawers?”

Something like a smile flitted across Chip’s face. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a young lady’s drawers.” He flipped
up the doll’s dress. “They are very pretty.”

“You got a little girl?”

“No. The lady that works here has a little boy.”

“I don’t like boys. When they grow up they’re mean. But not Uncle James and Wiley and Odette’s papa.”

“I guess some grow up mean, but not all.”

“Are you mean like Uncle Louis and Uncle Milo?”

Jeanmarie leaned against his knees and looked up at him with eyes so like Mick’s that Chip looked back at the child as if
seeing her for the first time. He ruffled the red curls on her head, then took her small hand and held it between his. He
had to swallow hard several times before he could speak.

“I sure as hel… heck hope not.”

He was grateful when Rita appeared in the doorway.

“Señor, the meal is ready. I will take a tray to Maria, and send the others down.”

The good-byes were said in the middle of the afternoon. Ben and James insisted that they get back to the homestead before
dark. Dory was misty-eyed when she left Marie’s room with the precious box of mementos Marie had put in her care. James took
it and Odette to the wagon while she put on her bonnet and Jeanmarie’s. Without looking directly into Chip Malone’s face,
she thanked him for the dinner.

“Thanks for coming and bringing Jeanmarie. I want you to know that we don’t hold any bitterness toward you and the child.”
After he finished speaking he squatted down and spoke to Jeanmarie. “Take care of that young lady,” he said, touching the
doll she held clasped in her arms. “And thank you for showing me her underdrawers,” he whispered.

Jeanmarie giggled and hid behind Dory’s skirt.

Holding tightly to her child’s hand, Dory went out to the wagon, which Wiley had brought to the front of the house. Odette
was already seated in the back. James lifted Jeanmarie up to sit beside her and then helped Dory up over the wheel and onto
the seat.

The dreaded visit was over. She had been afraid when she arrived, and she was leaving with a heavy heart.

Why was it that it was the good people who had to die?

Dory stood on the porch. Oh, how she loved spring. She liked the gentle touch of the warm wind on her face, the smell of the
pines, the promise of seeds and bulbs parting the earth, reaching for the sun. Odette, completely recovered from her illness,
was taking the clean dry clothes from the line. Jeanmarie followed along behind her cuddling a kitten that had mysteriously
appeared in the barn after James’s last visit.

Dory was happy—almost.

Since James had told her about the murders, he or Ben had come to the homestead each evening just after dark and left again
at dawn. It was a long journey for both of them. Dory had tried in vain to convince them that it was a trip they didn’t have
to make.

“It isn’t that we don’t trust Wiley to do his best to protect you,” James said. “If someone got to him first, you would be
on your own.”

“Someone could get to both of you,” Dory argued.

“It’s not likely before one of us got to him.”

Tonight would be Ben’s turn. Would the pattern be the same? Would he visit for a few minutes with Odette and then go to the
bunkhouse? It was as if Ben and James had decided between them to spend as little time as possible with them. On the nights
James came to the house, he played for a few minutes with Jeanmarie, then cautioned Dory about barring the doors, and then
departed, leaving a disappointed Odette looking after him with troubled eyes.

Dory was sure that Ben was responsible for her brother’s attitude toward Odette. What had he said to him the night he had
hurriedly left the room and followed James downstairs? James had looked happier that evening than he had in a long time. He
had ignored Odette the day they went to the Malones’, and since then he avoided her as if she had the plague. Poor Odette.
She didn’t understand why.

Tonight Ben would be later than usual. The donkey engine was to be moved. Teams of oxen would pull it five miles over a treacherous
trail to where the big logs were trimmed and peeled and made ready for the chute that would take them downhill to the river.

“I will be late, but I will be here,” Ben had said, then had added drily, “Louis is so excited he is almost pleasant to be
around.”

“That would be a sight to see,” Dory had said laughingly, hoping to get a smile from Ben. But it wasn’t to be. The distance
between them was widening. It was as if he had never held her in that darkened hallway, sheltered her in his arms, or buried
his lips in her hair.