Touching Stars (42 page)

I would tell the soldiers what I knew, which was no more than Uncle Eb would probably already have recounted. I would guess out loud that the man realized he had aroused suspicion. With only my observations and no Blackjack to question, I doubted they would pursue him. Everyone believed the real John Wilkes Booth had died in Port Royal. Why would they waste time looking for a man who was already in the ground?

I walked down the steps with him. He stuck out his hand, and we shook. Then he drew out something from his sack and handed it to me. “I’d like you to give this to your mother.”

I took it before I looked down. In the moonlight, I could see I was holding a small leatherbound book.

“Shakespeare’s sonnets,” he said. “She has the plays, but not the poems. I’ve marked one for her. Will you see that she gets it?”

“I went through your things when you came. I never saw this.”

“The sack has a false bottom. Something for you to remember the next time you suspect you’re harboring a fugitive.”

I didn’t laugh, and neither did he. There was nothing more to say.

He gave a short salute, which was as much a wave goodbye as anything. Then he turned, and in a minute he had disappeared into the darkness. I waited there until I heard the sound of hoofbeats. I saw a shadow along the side of the barn; then the hoofbeats grew fainter until they could no longer be heard.

I stuck the book in the waistband of my trousers under my shirt and turned to go inside. I hadn’t heard the door open, and I hadn’t heard my mother come out. But when I looked up, she was standing on the porch.

“He’s gone, then.” She came down the steps and stood beside me, gazing off into the distance where Blackjack had ridden away.

“I’m sorry.”

She began to cry.

I didn’t know what to do. Ma’s tears were as unexpected and alien as the decision I’d been forced to make. I couldn’t remember seeing my mother cry. She hadn’t even cried when the word had come about my father, although she had held me as I’d cried hard enough for both of us.

My sadness turned to something else. She was crying for a man she’d hardly known, young, handsome and charming, yes, but in the end, still a stranger. They had never been wed. He had not adored her, provided for her, given his life for a cause because he believed winning would keep her safe. Blackjack had ridden into our lives, put us in danger, taken what he could, then simply ridden away.

Despite myself, anger filled me, as it had earlier that afternoon. “You never cried for my father!”

She reached for me, pulling me close. Her arms went around me.

“It’s like that morning. Just like it. Just…the same. Oh, I remember everything about the morning your father rode away, Robby. I don’t…want to remember.”

I couldn’t pull away. I loved her too much to hurt her more, but I didn’t understand. “It’s
not
the same,” I said. “Blackjack isn’t your husband. How can you cry for him when you never cried for Pa?”

“That morning…that awful morning when he rode away…I knew things would never be right again. I knew…I…we would lose your pa. He was such a good man. I knew he would…sacrifice himself for others…if he was called to. And I’d never been able to tell him how much I loved him—I’d never even known how much until that moment. I stood right here, just like tonight…and I heard the hoofbeats of his horse fading into…the distance.”

My arms tightened around her then, and I was crying, too. “He knew,” I told her, and for the first time in my life, I realized it was true. “Oh, Ma, that’s why he chose that quilt, don’t you see?
X
s. Like kisses. He knew…you loved him. He took your love with him.”

Maybe I was a man then, and maybe men aren’t supposed to cry, but although the tears scalded my cheeks, they cleansed us both.

Much later, I made sure Ma got to her room. She took my father’s photograph when we passed through the hall and set it beside her bed. I went to my own room to undress, and it was only then that I realized I still had the book Blackjack had asked me to give my mother.

I wondered what she had felt for our temporary boarder. Nothing like what she’d felt for my father. Of this I was now sure. But had she loved Blackjack, too? I didn’t think so. I thought he had been a diversion, something to think about instead of a difficult life. He had brought light into her darkness, enough that the heart she had so carefully sealed had been opened, and she had been forced to feel again and acknowledge what she had lost.

I stared at the book. I could see that a page was marked with a leather lace, but I didn’t open it. I didn’t want to see what Blackjack’s final message to Ma might be. Even more, I didn’t want to see if a certain name graced the inside of the cover.

Some questions are better left unanswered.

I placed the book under my pillow. Early in the morning, I would hide it where no one would ever find it. I knew exactly where and how. If someday I changed my mind, it would still be waiting, intact. But I doubted I would ever want to look at it again.

I got into bed and closed my eyes, but the image I saw was a man riding away. Whether the sun shone too brightly or night was dark around him, I couldn’t tell. I heard hoofbeats moving farther and farther into the distance.

I fell asleep to the sound and knew it would haunt me for the rest of my days.

T
he rain began during the night, for a short interval just a gentle shower, then a steadily accelerating, crescendoing downpour that shrouded landmarks and slid in silver sheets off the terrace. Most rain was a natural lullaby, but this was accompanied by wind that rattled shutters and lashed against windows. When a strong gust sent something crashing into a wall of the carriage house, Gayle knew she wasn’t going to sleep another minute.

Belting a robe around her waist, she padded into the family room to turn on the outside light. A heavy Adirondack chair that had been sitting at the edge of the carriage-house deck was now on its side, just a few feet from the French doors.

“Wow.” She flipped off the light, afraid it might wake Noah, but she was too late. He came down the stairs, clad in flannel boxers and a Vampire Hunter T-shirt.

“What was that?” He said it so quickly it sounded like one word. “Even Buddy’s cowering and cussing.”

“A chair. This must be the remnant of that tropical storm that hit Florida. I knew we were going to get some rain, but it must have come right up the valley between the mountains. It’s hitting us just right.”

“We could turn on the TV—”

The lights went out.

“Or not,” Noah finished.

Gayle’s eyes adjusted slowly, but moments later she could see the dimmest outlines. “I’m worried about the campers. Do you think we ought to drive over and get our crew?”

“Yeah, we could do that—if you don’t mind them not speaking to you for the next hundred years.”

“I’ve seen those tents. They look like something from a Civil War reenactment. They aren’t exactly state of the art.”

“Mom, they’re camping next door. Mr. Allen will make everybody get inside his house if there are problems.”

He was probably right. Dillon would be the most embarrassed if she showed up to fetch him, but neither Jared nor Leon would be pleased with her. And besides, the older boys wouldn’t leave unless all their campers left first.

Noah whistled. “Wow, it’s really dark in here. It’s, like, black.”

“I’ve got flashlights in the kitchen drawer.”

“I know where you keep the candles.”

“Me, flashlights. You, candles.”

A few minutes later the room was softly lit. Noah didn’t show any signs of going back to bed as Gayle took one of the flashlights.

“I’m going to throw on some clothes and go over to the inn just to make sure everybody’s okay.”

There were emergency lights in every room of the inn, but some guests might still be edgy. Gayle suspected that Miss Onion Allergy, who prided herself on quality control, would be up and complaining. There was a backup generator, but she was in no hurry to turn it on. The storm was loud, but the generator was louder.

Noah didn’t stir. “You’re going to get soaked.”

“You’re such a nice son. You could do this for me.”

“I sure could.” He didn’t offer.

Gayle was already on her way to her room anyway. Both of them knew who really had to go and deal with consequences.

Minutes later she was dressed, and her jeans and shirt were covered by a bright yellow slicker and hat that the boys had given her for Christmas. She owned matching boots, too, but she was depending on slip-on sneakers to do the job tonight.

In the family room, a bleary-eyed Noah was still staring at candlelight flickering on the wall. “Maybe you ought to tie a rope around your waist and anchor yourself to a tree.”

“Feel free to go back to bed, dear.”

“You might need me.”

“I can probably think of ideas like tying myself to a tree without you.”

“I’m a creative thinker. What can I say?”

“Not another thing.”

She let herself out the door closest to the inn and waited for a lull. When it seemed like Mom Nature might be taking a breath, she streaked across the yard, sneakers squishing in the soggy grass. Lightning wasn’t a problem yet, and she was grateful.

Entering through the kitchen, she peeled off slicker and hat, and kicked off sneakers. There were two emergency lights, both giving off just enough of a glow that she could move around islands and counters without stumbling. She shoved the swinging doors and went through to the reception area at the same moment the telephone rang.

A tall figure materialized on the stairs, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“Gayle?”

Her heart was beating double-time. “Eric! You scared me witless.”

“I’m sorry. A couple of guests were up. I was making sure people were okay.”

She grabbed the receiver before the answering machine could pick up, then remembered the answering machine depended on electricity. She was glad that this phone was more or less a dinosaur.

“Daughter of the Stars,” she said.

“Gayle? Travis. Are you all right over there?”

“Fine. What about you?”

“I’ve got a dark house full of soaking wet campers.”

“You need us?” The
us
came out without thinking, but of course she knew Eric would help.

“The kids are calling their parents. If we can’t reach their folks, I’ll keep them here.”

“We can take some if you need us to.”

“Let’s see how it goes. But the Johnson kids live across the river, and their dad’s car is in the shop. Before they get rivered in, I need someone to drive them home. You’ve got the truck, and you know the roads.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Then I’ll come back and get Dillon and anyone else willing to come here. Tell Caleb not to wake the Claibornes. He can come home with us.”

“If he hasn’t talked to them already. A lot of the parents have been calling.”

She hung up and told Eric what was happening. “One of us had better stay here. I need to go, since I know the roads better. The Johnson kids live several miles down.”

“I hate to see you go out in this.”

“I’m just glad you can stay here in case something comes up.”

“It makes sense to have a team in place, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like such a luxury to have a man helping her. She couldn’t deny it.

“You know what else?” he asked.

“No.”

“Happy birthday.”

She closed her eyes. “I hope this isn’t an omen.”

“Just because you’ve started your forties with an emergency doesn’t mean it’s a trend.”

“I’ll be back with the kids.”

He smiled. “I’ll be waiting with lots of towels.”

By dawn the rain had stopped, but Gayle didn’t bother to greet what passed for sun. She had spent too much of the night ferrying other people’s teenagers home and packing up her own waterlogged brood. The low water bridge had remained above the water line when she’d crossed back to Travis’s house, and now she thought that if the rain was finished, nobody would be cut off. Crisis averted.

She was just drifting back to sleep for a few precious minutes when her bedroom door flew open. She tried to put the pillow over her head, but Noah tugged it away. She lay in place and listened to a chorus of “Happy Birthday” and tried not to cry like a sentimental sop.

“Not everybody gets raspberry coffeecake with candles,” Jared said. “Sit up, Mom.”

She groaned, but managed somehow. Through bleary eyes she saw that the room was filled with the male of the species. Eric, her sons, Caleb and Leon. “Why aren’t there any girls in this family?” she asked.

“If my understanding of genetics is correct, it was my fault.” Eric put a tray with an insulated carafe of coffee beside her. “You are not to get up this morning. Stay in bed. The boys have breakfast under control, and Paula’s here to make sure everything else goes okay.”

She almost couldn’t remember a morning off. Not a whole morning off with nothing to do. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Here’s the paper.” Jared held out the
New York Times.
“Last Wednesday’s, but who cares?”

“Wait a minute, is the electricity on?”

“Came on about five,” Eric said. “All is well, and you can relax.”

“We’ve got presents and stuff, but we’ll give them to you—” Dillon glanced at his father “—later.”

Noah set a tray with eggs and bacon beside her. Leon added a bowl of fresh fruit. They left enough coffeecake to vault her up to the next dress size. Then, pushing and shoving and oozing testosterone, they left her alone to enjoy herself.

All she could think about was that someday soon, all these guys wouldn’t be in residence anymore. That this moment had passed too quickly. That four decades had passed too quickly.

Then, resolutely, she put that revelation aside, flipped on the CD player beside her bed, and determined to enjoy her leisurely and well-deserved treat.

An hour later, Jared came in for the tray. He looked tired and preoccupied, but he smiled. “How was it?”

“Fabulous. Whose idea was this?”

“We thought of it together.”

She patted the bed, and although he seemed reluctant, he sat.

“This was exactly the kind of celebration I like,” she said. “I’m so glad you did this and not something big and splashy.”

He bent over to tie his shoe, which seemed to take a while. “Well, you said you wanted a simple family party,” he said while he was still upside down.

“You’ve had a hard week, haven’t you?” she asked.

“You’re going to pry, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying hard not to, but it’s my birthday, so humor me.”

“That’s going to go on all day, isn’t it?”

“As long as I can make it work.”

He sat up. “Brandy and I broke up.”

She felt an absurd stab of relief. Jared’s life was back on track. He was going to MIT as planned, and now all was explained. His long face. The obvious tension. The way he had avoided talking to his mother.

“I can just imagine how hard that was and is.” She touched his hand. “You’re okay?”

“Uh-huh. With me going away and all, it didn’t make sense to stay a couple.”

“Sometimes things make sense but they still hurt.”

“Like when you and Dad got divorced?”

“Like that.”

“Since he’s been back, I understand better.”

She was surprised. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Dad’s great, don’t get me wrong. But how did you ever get together? Could the two of you
be
more different?”

She didn’t know what to say. Vindication wasn’t exactly the result she’d expected when she’d invited Eric to stay for the summer.

She turned the conversation back to her son. “You and Brandy were pretty different. That should help you understand. We’re not always attracted to people just like us.”

“I don’t want to be like Dad, not in every way, anyhow. But maybe I am. I’m not a homebody like you are. I want to see the world.”

“Of course you do. You’re supposed to. Has that been worrying you? That you were abandoning Brandy? You’re eighteen, Jared. Both of you need to see the world and figure out who you are. Then you can make better decisions about your future.”

“Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’m…” He looked away. “I’m going to do everything I can to figure out who I am.”

She patted his leg. “Good for you, and I know Brandy’s going to be okay. By the time her senior year is over, she’ll be a lot more grown up, and by then she’ll probably be ready to fly the nest, too.”

He got to his feet. “Dad said to tell you he’s over at the dig with Mr. Allen. They’re checking to see what’s up after last night. And I think they’re working on one of the units, trying to see what’s there before they cover it up.”

Gayle was relieved. Eric would probably spend a good part of the day at the dig. She wouldn’t have to talk to him about their future or even try to figure out what he was thinking today. And if she was really lucky, she could put her own thoughts and feelings on hold as a birthday present to herself.

“I bet I’m going to get a good dinner out of this birthday, aren’t I?” she asked.

“You’ll think a professional cooked it.” He leaned over and kissed her head. “I love you, Mom. Don’t ever forget it.”

Eric got out of his car to greet Travis, who had pulled up right after him. The ground where they parked was wet, but, at least for now, the sun was out.

“For a man who probably didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, you look almost rested,” Eric said.

“I’m basking in the knowledge that camp is over, no matter how it happened to end.”

“You did a great job. I’m glad Dillon could take advantage.”

Travis opened the rear door of his Highlander and started setting tools on the ground. “I like your boys. They’re smart, well mannered and funny. I’m always glad to have them around.”

“They like you, too. I get the impression you’ve been a stand-in father when I’ve been out of the picture.”

“You’re one of a kind in their lives.”