Whisper Falls (15 page)

He looked again. “Yes. Four.”

“Look for Jedidiah Pratt's name. Is he a head of a household in 1800?”

Mark shook his head.

“What about Jacob Worth? Is he listed with a wife?”

“Not on this sheet.”

I grabbed it out of Mark's hands and searched the names. Jethro was the only Pratt, and he had four children.

“What's wrong, Susanna?”

“I expected six.” I could barely choke out the words.

“Damn.”

Were two of my babies gone? Which ones?

Already the danger of knowledge had struck, but I would hesitate no more about learning the future, not where the children were concerned. “Can you find the names?”

“Maybe.”

“Please try.” I reached for the wall. I wanted to see my little ones without delay. To ensure they were safe in their beds. “I shall not return again until after the Sabbath. Might that be enough time to learn more?”

“I don't know. I can't make any promises.” His voice softened. “Hey. Do you have favorites?”

I paused, one foot planted on the bottom rung of my rocky ladder. Could I name the two I loved most? Did something become more true once it was said aloud?

“Dorcas and John.”

“Will you want me to tell you, even if it's bad?”

“You won't need to say a word. Your face will shout the tale.”

The garage was ablaze with light on Saturday at seven AM, and it couldn't have been because of my mother. She wasn't awake this early.

“Dad?” I called. He hadn't been here when I went to bed, so he must've taken a red-eye back from California.

My father poked his head out the door of the storage room. “Morning, Mark. How've things been?”

“Great.” I nodded calmly, but inside I was smiling big. Everything flowed better when Dad was home.

“What about business?”

“It's great, too,” I said, crossing to his side. “I have ten clients.”

We shook hands before he pulled me into a manly, back-slapping hug. He was decked out in biking gear.

“Is it okay if I ride with you?”

It was more than okay. “Sure.”

He carried his mountain bike out of the storage room. “What's the plan?”

I lifted mine down from its rack and checked it over. “How about the American Tobacco Trail?” I hadn't ridden on the ATT in a while, but the weather would be perfect for it today.

“Sounds good.”

“Aren't you tired?”

“I slept on the plane.”

That couldn't have been enough, but he still wanted to ride with me.

“Won't Mom wonder where you are when she gets out of bed?”

His lips twitched into a half-smile. “Your mother knows where I am.” He smacked a switch on the wall, and the garage door rolled up. “Will we take the truck to one of the ATT parking lots?”

“Yeah, the one off I-40.”

Soon we were cruising along the interstate. Dad slumped in the passenger seat, eyes shut.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, hoping he was.

“Yeah. It's just better for my health if I don't watch you drive.”

“Thanks.”

He laughed.

I let him relax for a couple of minutes while I drummed up the guts to bring up the next subject. “Dad, I need to talk to you about Mom and Marissa.”

“Might as well stop right there.” He straightened in his seat, eyes open, arms crossed. “I'm staying out of that.”

“I want to, but I can't, they won't let me.”

“Yes, you can. You've got shoulders. Shrug them.”

“Maybe you can shrug off Mom, but I can't.”

“You're smart. You can figure out a way to not engage.”

Right. “Dad, you haven't been here for the last couple of weeks. It's been pretty bad.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Tell her I hate being in the middle.”

“She knows that.”

“Yeah, but she might do something about it if you reminded her.”

His only response was to grunt impatiently.

I pulled off I-40 and parked in the lot. Ten minutes later, we were riding south at an easy pace.

“What's the goal today, Mark?”

“Speed. Especially downhill. There are a few decent inclines a couple of miles ahead.”

“Are they on the trail?”

“No.”

“Good.” He took a swig from his water bottle. “You might not know this, but when Marissa first opened her bank account, she gave me the password.”

Interesting change of subject. I was curious where this was headed. “And…?”

“I can access all of her transactions. She hasn't written any checks to the University of Colorado.”

“I see.”

“I suspect you do.”

“Have you told this to Mom?”

“Not yet.”

“Look, Dad…”

“That's enough.” He pedaled in concentration until we passed some pedestrians. “Your sister needs to tell us what's going on. It's her story, not yours. So don't say a word. Not to me. Not to your mom.”

* * *

After my dad and I got home and cleaned up, my mother claimed him for the rest of the day. “Couple time,” she called it. She had a to-do list a mile long, which seemed to make him happier than it would've made me. It involved a lot of driving on his part and shopping on hers.

I wouldn't be heading down to the falls tonight with Susanna busy until Monday. So I downloaded a movie and flopped on the couch to watch. But I had a hard time paying attention. My mind kept drifting to Susanna. While I was slumped over being lazy, was she working? Avoiding punches?

Halfway through, I flicked the movie off. I needed to
do
something.

Unable to contain my restlessness, I jumped up and looked around until my attention landed on the computer. Might as well get on and check email. Carlton pinged me immediately.

Good, a distraction.

Why did he keep asking about her? To piss me off? I had nothing else to say about Alexis. He knew that.

There was a long pause—not the kind that meant he was typing a lot, but the kind that meant he didn't know how to respond. Carlton could come up with something funny faster than anyone I knew. So he was thinking something serious, which was strange and interesting.

I fell back against my seat and stared hard at the screen. What was going on here? Carlton was the only friend who'd stuck with me when everyone else sided with Alexis. How did he know whether something sounded like her? And why did he even care? The whole time I dated Alexis, he had complained that she was some kind of high-maintenance toddler we were babysitting, and avoided us whenever he could. He'd been happy when she dumped me.

She had to be pumping Carlton for information about me, but it couldn't be doing her any good. I wasn't telling him anything she'd want to know.

I didn't want to tell him. It wasn't as if I was ashamed of her. Exactly the opposite. And I wasn't worried about trying to explain the falls or Worthville. There was no need to explain circumstances I never planned to bring up.

It was mostly about the friendship between me and Susanna. The wrong person could mess it up—and I wasn't sure who the wrong people were.

Why did I hesitate with Carlton? He was my best friend. If he were here, he would already know everything.

Of course, if he were here, I wouldn't be hanging out with Susanna.

So Keefe had decided to go through with it. As much as that race would be great training, it was still too close to the Carolina Challenge for me. I'd be afraid I couldn't recover fast enough.

This conversation was all screwed up. Carlton was supposed to be getting info out of me. Instead, I was getting a lot out of him—and I wished I wasn't.

The chat left me pissed off. I'd lost interest in the computer, in the movie, in everything I could think of. I needed to work off the irritation, but it was too late to ride. I left the rec room, stood in the hall, and tried to figure out how to settle down. The garage door whined open, signaling the return of my parents. I didn't want to face them, either. My mom would be bubbling-over happy, and I wasn't in the mood for that.

I crossed into the weight room and stared at the equipment. Yeah, this was what I needed—to work out. I reset the weights on one of the machines and sat down.

Tonight's goal—upper body strength.

Wrong. Tonight's real goal was sweating off Carlton's preoccupation with my ex.

Mark's news weighed heavily on my heart.

All weekend, I watched the Pratt children with anxious eyes, bereft at the thought of losing any of my little ones. The knowledge made me indulgent. I found it difficult to refuse any request.

Dorcas burst into the kitchen on Monday morning dragging Delilah behind her. “May we walk with you to the village?”

“Indeed, yes. I should like the company.”

I packed the last few items in a pail and covered it with a cloth. Jedidiah had lessons at the tutor's house this morning, and it fell to me to deliver his meal. Deborah coveted this chore—and a glimpse of the much-admired Jacob Worth—but she would forfeit the errand today. Her mother had displayed an uncharacteristic passion for teaching her the art of spinning.

Dorcas and Delilah ran ahead, skipping and holding hands. Had we been walking at a normal pace on the most direct route, we would reach the village in a few minutes. But we weren't interested in a quick trip. It was a beautiful day, worth enjoying, and we did everything in our power to lengthen the journey. First, there was a detour through the woods to pick blackberries amid a vicious array of thorns. Next we stood on the sturdy bridge over Rocky Creek to watch the water bubbling past. Then we managed a stop by the well to cool our scratches before wandering through the shade at the side of the lane.

As we passed the Widow Drake's house, a figure appeared in the open doorway.

“Hello,” Mary Whitfield called with a wave. “What brings you to town?”

“I'm taking a meal to my master's son.”

“May we talk a moment?”

“I'd like that.” I turned to the little girls. “Shall we play here?”

“Oh, yes,” Dorcas said. Delilah agreed with a nod. The two ran to a tree and promptly stomped around it in circles, Dorcas in the lead.

I joined Mary in the shade of the porch. “How do you like working with Mrs. Drake?”

“She's very kind. She teaches me to spin at present. Once I have it mastered, I shall try weaving.” Mary held up reddened, calloused hands with a laugh. “They do look a sight.”

“Indeed.” I slid my fists into the pockets under my petticoat. My scarred hands looked far worse. “Have you seen much of the village?”

“The people are very kind.” She rocked on her heels, the tips of her boots peeking in and out from under her petticoat. “Have you met the cooper's apprentice?”

“Reuben Elliott?” I eyed her speculatively. Was Mary interested in him? “Indeed, I have. A nice man.”

“Is he promised to anyone?”

“Not that I've heard.”

She nodded. “I find this village charming.”

“Indeed.” How many years did she have left on her contract? Would Reuben wait? Perhaps Mrs. Drake would release her early. I hoped it went well for them. “I shall see you at church on Sunday, Mary.”