The Amber Stone (2 page)

Teresa shook her head, trying to analyze what she had seen. She had only recently begun coming to the bay again to calm her sudden restlessness and feelings of helplessness. Her confrontation with Helene was just one of a series of recent failures. It had been four months, but she still felt shell-shocked by the death of her friend Bess Richman, who’d collapsed from a massive heart attack at only fifty-three. It opened up the wound of losing her parents nearly three years before from pneumonia. And then there were the nightmares that attacked her sleep in their vicious and haunting ways. She sought solace here, desperate to find a way to calm her nerves.

Hollow Cove was a hidden alcove off of Catlon Bay and was not a place frequented by many. After hiking a harrowing rocky path down a nearly vertical hill, the beach itself was rocky except for a small section of soft sand for people to laze on. In the distance, rocks rose up like monolithic sculptures varying in shape and size like new recruits to the army. Further down the cove, caves created great hiding places for children and lovers wanting to find a private place.

Though not a place of beauty, Teresa came to this part of the bay to drink her morning or evening coffee and to collect different debris that washed up on the bank—shells, twigs, bottles. She sometimes hoped to find that proverbial note in a bottle carrying a message from a distant place—a sailor lost at sea, a lover waiting for his darling to return. Or she would write poetry in the little notebook she kept in her pocket and try to make sense of her life. Most of the time her trips were uneventful—until today.

Today was the first time she had ever seen a swimmer. If people wanted to be by the water, there was the commercialized area located downtown, with boardwalks, restaurants and a meticulously clean beach. Now, it was a dot in the distance, with buildings rising like concrete trees. Wealthy homes were spotted around the water like great toy houses.

However, Teresa preferred the quiet, the feeling of being alone in a special hidden place; hearing the morning tide crawl up the sandy beach and sink back like an indecisive guest. Who was this intruder that swam on a day that was probably 50 degrees? She acknowledged the coming hints of spring that whispered its arrival, with buds stretching their arms, green grass appearing under the slush of dirty snow, and warmer afternoons, but it was still a cold late February.

Teresa wrapped her blue wool coat tighter around herself. February mornings at the cove were brutal, but the cold wind invigorated her. She watched the man tread towards the shore, his blue trunks clinging to firm legs and a nice solid bottom. Taking her eyes off him, she saw what at first looked like a moving rock come up to greet him. It turned out to be a little grey cat.

The cat nuzzled against his wet leg and he sprinkled it with some water, which it seemed to delight in. It stood on its hind legs to catch the falling drops as if performing a dance. The man bent down to stroke the cat, then looked up to the sky—a clear blue sky that for many days had been white with clouds. The sun was continuing its ascent so half of his face was hidden by shadow. He smiled gently. The sound of seagulls could be heard above.

Teresa wondered what secret thoughts he hid behind that expression. If she were standing half-naked and wet on a cold winter day she would be thinking she was losing her mind, but the man seemed unconcerned as he wrapped a towel around his neck and stretched out his body, lunging and twisting like an athlete getting ready for a race.

She crouched down, hoping he wouldn’t catch her staring. He could be an athlete, she reasoned. His torso was heavily muscled, his shoulders wide, his legs firm. He was hairier than she usually liked men to be—dark hair curled, forming a V on his chest—but he was in excellent shape. He turned back to the water like a merman missing his home and mumbled something to his feline companion. The cat seemed to nod in response.

The man was just about to leave when he turned and looked at her. Teresa gasped, shocked by the awareness that seemed to cut through the distance between them. Her heart pounded in her chest as if she had run a marathon. He did not smile, wave or frown. He just studied her as she had him a few moments before, his gaze questioning her presence there. Teresa grew uncomfortable by the direct way he looked at her. She offered a shy smile, just to break the moment, but he did not return the expression.

She turned away, pretending to find better things to occupy her attention. Teresa had a strange feeling that she knew him; that he knew her. To her dismay, the feeling of awareness did not leave her. She quickly glanced up to see if he was gone. He wasn’t. Her pulse quickened when she realized he was coming towards her. She resisted a wild urge to get up and run, but felt paralyzed in place and anxiously waited for his approach.

“It’s nice weather we’re having,” he said in a casual tone as if addressing a friend.

She peered up at him and smiled, trying to keep her eyes on his face instead of his chest. “Yes, quite.”

He stared at her for another moment. She couldn’t quite read the expression in his eyes because of the shadows. He glanced quickly at her lap, then back up at her face. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you usually like spilling coffee on yourself?”

She stared at him with a blank expression. “I beg your pardon?”

He nodded towards her lap. Teresa looked down and saw that coffee was seeping from her thermos and dripping on her skirt. Already a large stain was spreading like a milky brown blob.

She leaped to her feet. She had completely forgotten about her coffee. “Oh no,” she cried, trying to brush the stain away.

“You’re only making it worse,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Here.” He dabbed at the stain using his towel with a gentleness she had not expected. “This skirt needs to go straight into a washing machine.”

Teresa didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The touch of his hand had left her immobile. She felt her restlessness disappear, replaced with an eerie calm. That had never happened before. Usually by focusing and touching someone else—a gift she’d discovered in her early teens—she could sense something about them, at times even seeing visions of their past, but this time, just the feel of his hand around her wrist opened up an unexpected connection and awareness about him. She knew he had the hands of a healer, that he’d suffered a terrible loss and now saw life through his head and not his heart. His heart had been broken. She suddenly felt shocked and embarrassed by all that she sensed, as if she’d stumbled upon someone’s intimate diary.

She stared at his bent head, wishing the waves would wash her and this entire incident away.

He stood, tossing the towel over his shoulder. That’s when she saw it. A silver necklace, with a charm—accented with tiny amber stones—glittering in the sun, lying flat on his chest. It was elegantly made with no particular meaning to an observer, but a pattern of lines melding into one. She’d seen it before...she knew it. But how? Where? Why did it fill her with both anticipation and dread? Who was this man?

She took an involuntary step back, tripping over the rock she had been sitting on and falling backwards. Fortunately, she grabbed her skirt before it fell over her head.

“Are you all right?” the man asked, leaning over her. He sounded concerned. Teresa was now certain he thought she belonged in a nuthouse.

She quickly righted herself, ignoring the stranger’s offered hand, unsure she could bear his touch again, and brushed sand from her skirt, trying to get her bearings. She briefly looked at the necklace once more then turned away. “Yes, thank you.”

“Did my cat scare you? He’s harmless...usually.”

“No, not at all.”

“You’re fine then?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but shrugged his shoulders in an impatient manner and nodded. “Good day then.”

She was about to say ‘good day’ too before she heard a splash.

He paused. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” She knew it was something big, but she couldn’t imagine what. The few people around them didn’t seem to be bothered, but she sensed something was wrong and he did too. A terrible feeling of dread shot through her a second time, then she looked out and saw something floating in the water. She pointed. “What is that?”

“What?”

Teresa knew he couldn’t see the object clearly and she didn’t have time to wait. Her heart began to pound when she realized what it was. She slipped out of her coat and shoes and ran towards the water.

“Wait,” he called after her.

But she didn’t. Instead she rushed into the cold water. Suddenly the ground disappeared from underneath her feet.

She swam over to the body, her arms already aching. She wasn’t a very physical person, and her body seemed to protest her efforts, but she couldn’t stop. She wished she was a strong swimmer like her younger sister, Jessie, who succeeded at any sport she tried. But she wasn’t, and her lungs felt weary; she just had enough strength to reach the body. She came upon the still figure. She didn’t want to think about what that meant—had she’d arrived too late?—she had to have hope. She pulled the body to the shore, hoping that someone would help her. Suddenly, the weight didn’t feel so heavy. A moment later she realized the man had taken the limp body and laid it on the beach. Then her heart froze when she saw the woman’s face. She wasn’t a stranger. She was her cousin.

Teresa watched the man pumping her cousin’s chest. “Come on, Louisa,” he said.

He knew her too, but Teresa didn’t wonder how. She just wanted to see Louisa open her eyes and breathe. She had to breathe. She couldn’t die like this.

Louisa gasped, then vomited water and took another breath. Soon the paramedics arrived and took her away. Teresa felt relieved and a little vindicated. Death didn’t follow her; she’d helped save someone. She put on her shoes and coat, feeling the cold air but not caring, a small smile of gratitude on her lips. Then she heard a passing voice say, “She shouldn’t be so proud of herself. We still know she’s a murderer.”

Murderer? Murderer!
Why did people still believe that?

Teresa followed behind the ambulance, fighting back tears. She hadn’t killed Bess. Her death had been ruled an accident, but unfortunately Teresa had been the only person at the house with her. And Bess’s family did nothing to stop the rumors. Although Teresa’s family was used to her befriending women twenty to thirty years older than herself, Bess’s family met her with distrust and they’d never liked Teresa’s relationship with the wealthy single woman. Teresa had been her piano teacher. Bess had wanted to play piano since a girl and now, after taking an early retirement and making good investments, she decided to treat herself. They’d become fast friends.

Teresa had been the one to introduce Bess to a more natural way of dealing with her diabetes and high blood pressure, at times spending as much time in the kitchen as at the piano. Teresa remembered Bess’s face when she’d created her own herb garden. It was six months into their friendship when Bess introduced Teresa to her niece Helene, thinking that they’d have a lot in common since Helene was a master herbalist, author, lecturer and owner of The Wright Herb Shop.

But the two women had little in common, although Helene did listen to some of Teresa’s suggestions. They discussed little else.

Despite what people thought, Teresa hadn’t known that Bess had put her in her will and that she’d get a sizable inheritance upon Bess’s death. Nobody knew that Teresa would give all the money back to see Bess alive again.

Instead, some people thought that Teresa had taken advantage of Bess. That she may have pushed her down the stairs, instead of Bess collapsing after her heart attack. Others thought Teresa had convinced Bess not to take her regular medication and that may have killed her. Teresa had her own questions and suspicions. Bess shouldn’t have been as sick as the coroner deemed. She hadn’t sensed anything wrong. But now she doubted herself. She wanted to bring Bess back so that the whispers could stop, so that she wouldn’t keep wondering where things went wrong.

She wanted her life back. She’d been a part-time herbalist and piano teacher, but after getting the inheritance, she’d been forced to stop when a number of students, and not so close friends, kept asking for loans and financial assistance.

Now she spent her time volunteering at the nursing facility. She hadn’t touched any of the money yet. Wasn’t sure she ever would. She didn’t feel she deserved it, but couldn’t reject the offer of a friend. But her concerns about Valley Ray had started with Bess and grown because of the two people at the nursing facility, but the supplement company wasn’t important right now.

Teresa looked at the ambulance, hoping her cousin would be okay. She remembered the last time she’d followed an ambulance to the hospital. Only a few days later she was driving behind a hearse.

***

“At least she’s okay,” Jessie said as she, Teresa and their eldest sister Michelle, sat in Rolland’s Café three days later. Jessie was treating them to lunch at a place that had once been too pricey for Teresa’s budget, though Michelle had frequently visited the place. The food was always excellent and served in an atmosphere of eclectic class. The restaurant had chrome booths furnished with red cushions. Jessie’s husband, Kenneth, was the CEO of a large electronics and software company and was a favorite customer, so any time she visited she was given the best booth—a place with a large window overlooking the main street that was well lit, but tinted, free from prying eyes.