Written in Stone (15 page)

“Good,” Rawlings said. “You can put the memory jug on display.”

“Wouldn’t that be awesome?” Harris asked quietly, his hand resting on the bubble wrap
enveloping the piece of pottery. “If someone just walked by and said, ‘Hey, this must
be one of Munin Cooper’s pieces. Yeah, I know her. We go way back. Want me to tell
you about all the objects on this jug?’”

“Dream on,” Millay murmured and the group headed toward the main path.

Once again, the smell of fried food wafted through the trees. Haviland raised his
nose, his nostrils flaring in interest. Laurel consulted the vendor map and led the
Bayside Book Writers past tables of dream catchers, wood carvings, leather bags, etched
copper jewelry, dolls, yarn hair accessories, bead medallions, pottery, and paintings
of Lumbee in ceremonial costume. Next to a tent filled with a rainbow of quilts was
Talley’s stall.

The first of Talley’s works to catch Olivia’s eye was a large hearth basket. It had
been woven with reeds dyed a rich, forest green and was sturdy enough to hold several
pounds of kindling. She picked it up and examined the tight weaving.

“These are cool,” Millay said, pointing at a berry basket decorated with pink reed
strawberries growing from a vine of pale green reed tendrils.

“Thanks.” Both women turned to find Talley standing behind them. “That berry basket’s
my bestseller. I don’t make enough profit to cover the hours of work these things
take, but it’s what I do at night while I’m watching TV.” She looked down at Haviland.
“Hey, sweetie.”

Haviland moved forward, inviting her touch, and Talley seemed grateful to be able
to run both hands through his fur.

Olivia glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that Harris, Rawlings, and Laurel
had paused at a booth across the aisle. Rawlings was showing the jug to an old man
whose mouth was filled with a plug of chewing tobacco.

“Who taught you how to do this?” Millay asked Talley, pivoting the berry basket. She
pointed at the taut underside. “If you told me it was watertight, I’d believe you.”

Talley rewarded Millay with a small smile, but there was no trace of pleasure in her
eyes. They were filled with shadows instead. Gone was the radiance that had animated
her features during yesterday’s performance. Now her skin was dull and her face was
puffy from sedative-induced sleep. Her hair fell down her back in tangled, unwashed
strands and her nails had been chewed until they’d bled.

“My mom had lots of talent,” Talley said in a low, fragile voice. “She had my brother
and me doing all kinds of things by the time we were ten. We could sew, weave, chop
wood, do our own laundry, and cook. Willis was way better than me in the kitchen but
I had him on log splitting. Mine would go right down the middle every time.” Her eyes
had grown glassy and Olivia knew Talley was miles and years away from them.

“Talley,” she whispered, gently pulling the young woman away from her memories. “We’re
so sorry about Willis. My friend Millay and I have come to work in your booth today.
Is that all right?”

She looked lost. “I don’t know. What would I do then? I need to keep busy until the
dancing starts or I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” She put her hands out in a gesture of helplessness.

“I understand,” Olivia assured her. “Why don’t you show us how to write receipts?”

Relieved to be able focus on her business, Talley showed Olivia and Millay where she
kept the cash box, receipt book, and shopping bags. She then dug an inhaler out of
her purse and gave herself a quick dose of medicine.

“The air’s terrible today,” she murmured. “It’ll be tough to dance later.”

While festivalgoers looked over the baskets, Millay sat next to Talley in a folding
chair at the back of the booth. “I wish I could make something that reflected my cultural
heritage,” Millay said. “Both my parents are from mixed-race families, so they could
have shown me all kinds of things, but they never did.” She continued to hold the
berry basket in her hands. “This must feel so good. It’s like a cord tying you to
generations of Lumbee.”

Talley nodded. “I don’t know what my life would have been like if I didn’t have my
people. We take care of each other. That’s why I couldn’t stay away today. I need
this. I need
them
.”

Seeing Talley choke up, Millay grabbed the younger woman’s hand and squeezed. “It’s
okay,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The booth suddenly became crowded with customers, and soon all three women were too
busy collecting money and putting baskets into shopping bags to talk.

After they’d sold half a dozen baskets, Talley turned to Millay. “Do you have brothers
and sisters?”

Millay shook her head. “Nope. No tough guys to stand up for me or an older sister
to warn me how nasty the other girls were going to be because I look different.” She
paused. “Speaking of different, we met your chief this morning. She seems like a very
cool chick.”

Talley nodded. “She looked in on us all the time after my mom died. And she totally
helped us navigate this crazy land lease deal.”

“The whole tribe will benefit from this thing, right?”

“Our tribe’s pretty big,” Talley said. “Some of us will get jobs from the deal; some,
like the chief, are investors, so they’re hoping to make a profit. The bottom line
is that once Golden Eagle opens, there’ll be more money in Maxton. Most folks are
pretty happy about it.”

“Are there non-Lumbee investors?” Millay asked casually.

“Sure. Fletcher Olsen, a lawyer most of us know, and other local businessmen. The
biggest loan is coming from the bank.”

Millay rearranged a few baskets. “You said most folks are happy about it. Who isn’t?”

Talley averted her glance. “People who don’t like seeing my tribe flourish.” She began
to organize the receipts, making it clear that she didn’t wish to elaborate.

Olivia sidled closer to the pair of dark-haired women. “Annette mentioned that your
house was recently vandalized. Do you think it had something to do with this deal?”

Talley pinched her lips together.

Millay leaned closer to her. “Hey, it’s happened to me too.” She listed some of the
offensive names she’d been called in high school and told Talley how much it had hurt
to be ostracized by her peers. “So tell me about what they said to you.”

“It’s happened a few times—graffiti, a busted mailbox, toilet paper in the trees—but
most of that was when I was a little kid. Things were quiet for so many years that
I forgot about being targeted or whatever you want to call it. But while Willis and
I were at the bank signing papers, someone visited our house.” She paused, steeling
herself. “Our cars were spray-painted.” Talley locked eyes with Millay. Her gaze was
haunted. “Nit, half-breed, pie face, squaw humper, redskin, scalper, filthy Injun,
dirty crow.” Pink spots had bloomed on her cheeks. “And bush nigger. All written in
big, black letters. Looking at them felt like . . .”

“You’d been punched in the stomach,” Millay finished for her.

Talley nodded and then sought relief from her inhaler again.

Horrified by Talley’s revelation, Olivia stared at the young woman. She could picture
a deranged white supremacist spraying graffiti on the two cars, incensed over the
idea of two Native American kids making good, of the tribe opening a successful business
during tough economic times. The Lumbee would run the casino, forcing the non-Indian
locals to make nice in order to get a piece of the pie. Were remnants of the Klan
still active in Robeson County?

At that moment, several customers entered the booth and Talley and Millay stopped
speaking to help them.

Rawlings was there too, holding the memory jug in his arms. “The gentleman with the
impressive walking stick was at the Battle of Hayes Pond,” he said, indicating the
man with the mouthful of chewing tobacco. “He didn’t recognize anything on the jug,
and though Munin’s name sounded familiar to him, he couldn’t remember why. He’s going
to introduce us to the other Lumbee who were present at the battle. Laurel and Harris
are asking him a few follow-up questions and we may pull something from Laurel’s notes
later, but so far the guy hasn’t told us anything new.”

“Millay’s been great with Talley,” Olivia whispered. “But I think the two of us being
here is all she can take. I’ll ask her about the jug while you guys talk to the Hayes
Pond folks.”

Rawlings picked up a cutlery basket and examined the yellow and green floral pattern
woven around the handle. “My sister would love this.” He handed Olivia some cash.
“Would you put that aside for me?”

She smiled at him, knowing that he was buying the basket more for Talley than to brighten
his sister’s kitchen. “Of course.”

When she swiveled to tuck Rawlings’ purchase under the table, she hit a basket woven
into the shape of a teacup with her elbow. It bounced off Haviland’s back and landed
between his paws. Startled, the poodle grabbed it between his teeth and trotted out
of the booth, prancing in the middle of the aisle. He was ready for a game of chase.

“Captain!” Olivia scolded.

Talley put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Even if he slobbers all over the basket,
he’s going to attract lots of attention.”

She was right. Within minutes, people gravitated to Haviland. When they reached out
to pet him, he’d dance to the side, swinging his head around so that they’d be looking
directly at the basket in his mouth.

“Aren’t you the cutest thing?” a woman wearing a fanny pack and an enormous sun hat
exclaimed. “And what a sweet basket!” She marched into the booth and purchased two
items.

An hour later, Talley’s stock was so depleted that Olivia decided to place the jug
at the end of one of the tables. “Do you mind if I display this?” she asked Talley.
“I’m trying to identify the objects on here and I was hoping a passerby would recognize
one of them.”

Talley was instantly curious about the piece. “I’ve seen jugs like this before, but
those pieces were mostly covered by bottle caps or other junk. This one has real valuables
on it. Look at this starfish necklace.” She carefully spun the jug. “And somebody’s
class ring? Where did you get this?”

Olivia watched Talley carefully. “Have you ever heard of a woman named Munin Cooper?”

Straightening, Talley considered the question, but her expression was totally blank.
She shook her head. “No. Is she a famous potter or something?”

Stroking the smooth lid of a picnic basket, Olivia wondered how much to say. In between
customers, Talley had been shedding her tears into a paper napkin, but her red-rimmed
eyes and blotchy skin betrayed her grief. Was it right to talk to her about Munin
now?

“She lived on the other side of this forest,” Olivia said after a long pause. “I only
met her once, but it was a memorable interaction.” Studying Talley, she added softly,
“She was an old woman, but I swear there’s an undeniable resemblance between you two.
I know that sounds ridiculous, but the moment I saw you onstage, I felt like I was
looking at a much younger version of Munin.”

Talley didn’t seem to find Olivia’s confession strange. In fact, she pretended not
to notice the customer searching for a price tag on a hearth basket. “Maybe we are
related. My mom’s parents moved to Florida when I was a baby and they passed away
before I was three. I never knew my dad’s folks. And both he and my mom were only
children, so I have no aunts or uncles. No cousins.” Her eyes filled with tears and
her fingers shook. She curled them around the jug, hugging the clay with her hands.
“And no brother. I have no one.
Willis!
” she cried. “How could you have left me alone?”

Millay was at Talley’s side in seconds. She put an arm around the distraught young
woman and led her out of the booth and away from the crowd.

As Olivia watched them disappear into the trees, she noticed a pack of children racing
down the path directly toward Haviland. The poodle clearly didn’t like the speed with
which he was being approached and began to retreat for the safety of the booth.

Dropping the basket at Olivia’s feet, he stood behind her, anxiously shifting his
weight from one leg to another.

The children didn’t slow their pace, but turned the corner into the booth screaming,
“Here, doggie!” and, “I saw him first!”

Before Olivia could react, one of the bigger boys gave his brother a powerful shove,
careening the smaller boy backward into the table’s edge. The memory jug wobbled and
then disappeared from view, falling to the ground on the far side of the table.

Olivia heard a muted crack and felt a surge of sadness course through her. The children
backpedaled slowly, clearly wary of Olivia’s reaction. Spying something else of interest
farther down the row of booths, they turned and rushed off, calling out apologies.

Slowly, Olivia walked around the table and stared down at the broken jug. She sank
to her knees, feeling that something inside her had broken as well, and reached for
one of the larger shards.

Its flat, undecorated shape indicated that it had once been the jug’s bottom. Turning
it over in her hands, she drew in a sharp breath. There was a key embedded in the
ruddy clay.

Glancing around in hopes that Rawlings and the others had returned, Olivia’s heart
skipped a beat. And then another. She forgot to breathe.

For there, gazing at an oil painting of a Lumbee warrior, was her father.

Her father
.

A man who’d died right in front of her. Months ago.

Chapter 14

For many men that stumble at the threshold are well foretold that danger lurks within.

—W
ILLIAM
S
HAKESPEARE

O
livia stood on rubbery legs, the piece of broken pottery clutched in her hand. She
wanted to run after the aberration but couldn’t move. As she watched her father melt
into the crowd, a small cry escaped from between her clenched lips. Haviland nudged
her with his nose, whining in concern.

“I’m okay, Captain.”

Glancing around the empty booth, Olivia knew she couldn’t just leave. She’d have to
take the cash box with her and gather up the clay shards before chasing after the
hallucination.

Her gaze swept the crowd, but the ghost of her dead father had vanished. None of the
Bayside Book Writers were within sight either.

Grabbing a plastic bag from Talley’s supplies, Olivia squatted near the broken jug
and collected the pieces. She then dropped into a folding chair at the back of the
booth and dialed Hudson’s cell phone number.

“I saw him,” she croaked when her brother answered.

“Hold on, I can’t hear a thing!” Hudson yelled over shouts, clanking utensils, hissing
steam, and laughter. “Okay, start again,” he said a minute later, the background noise
somewhat faded.

Olivia looked across the aisle, staring at the exact place where her father had been
standing. Except that it couldn’t have been her father. “I saw what you saw,” she
blurted, before she lost her nerve. “He was here.”

Hudson sighed, and Olivia couldn’t tell whether the sound reflected relief or resignation.
“I knew I wasn’t crazy,” he said. “Or maybe we both are. What the hell is going on,
Sis?”

She gripped the phone so hard that its edges dug into her palm, but the discomfort
allowed her to think, to process the impossible. “No, no, no. It can’t be. This guy
walked like a man with no troubles. Our father was as tense as a spring. He moved
like a wounded animal, always ready to lash out at a potential threat, always looking
for a fight.”

“How many troubles can you have if you’re dead?” Hudson asked, a lame attempt at wry
humor.

Ignoring him, Olivia went on. “And his clothes were all wrong. Willie Wade in Italian
loafers? An ironed dress shirt? No way.” Her voice became steadier. “This guy was
squeaky clean. No filthy jeans, no chin stubble, no ratty baseball cap, no greasy
fingernails. In fact, I’d dare to suggest that this man uses hair product.”

Hudson wasn’t convinced. “Forget the clothes and the hair, Olivia! Did you see his
eyes? Did he look at you?”

“No.”

“Then you haven’t seen him. Not really. When you do, he’ll look right through you.”

He always did,
Olivia thought. After all, she’d spent ten years with a man who rarely spoke to her,
let alone showed her affection.

“Well, I can’t go chasing him now,” she said testily, standing on tiptoe in order
to get a glimpse of the festivalgoers heading toward the exit. She didn’t see her
father’s lookalike, but she did spot Fletcher, Judson, and Annette heading in her
direction. “How’s The Bayside Crab House tent going?”

Hudson seemed to welcome the change of subject. “We’re slammed. People are lined up
all the way down to the beach and we’ve handed out three hundred take-out menus already.
I’ll have to send someone back to the restaurant for supplies or we’ll never make
it through the dinner rush.”

“Wow, you’re knocking it out of the park, Hudson. All those competing vendors and
you’re running out of food? Nice job.”

“Thanks,” Hudson mumbled and Olivia could practically see him scuffing the ground
with the toe of his sneaker, smiling with pleasure over the compliment. “Michel stopped
by earlier. Bought a sampler platter to share with his pretty chef lady. She asked
me a bunch of questions about Oyster Bay. Guess she’s thinking of moving.”

Olivia raised her brows. “Oh? And what did you tell her?”

“That it’s a good place with good people. You’ve got your fair share of annoying tourists,
but those folks’ll fill your piggy bank. Schools are decent. There’s stuff to do.
Cost of living isn’t too steep and there’s plenty of beach to go around.”

Laughing, Olivia said, “What a romantic picture you’ve painted.”

“Must have been enough to whet her whistle,” Hudson said. “She’s going to ask to see
that space you’ve got for lease.”

“Well, well.” Olivia could already picture the dessert shop opening on Main Street.
She was certain it would be a success, and no one else had expressed an interest in
the storefront up to this point. Then again, how would Shelley Giusti becoming a permanent
resident of Oyster Bay affect Michel? Would he moon after her night after night, the
dishes he prepared for The Boot Top suffering as a result of his fickle passion?

“I gotta go,” Hudson said suddenly. “A pissed-off customer at the front of the line
is making a scene.”

*   *   *

He rang off and Olivia slid her phone into her purse just as Millay and Talley returned
to the booth.

“Sorry.” Talley sniffled. “I’ve got to pull it together before the dancing starts.”
She noticed Annette Stevens approaching and raised her hand in the air. Her whole
being seemed to be willing the tribal chair to walk faster. Olivia could see how desperately
Talley wanted Annette by her side. Her yearning to be comforted was so strong that
it was almost palpable.

Annette Stevens didn’t say a word, but strode into the booth and enfolded Talley in
her arms, rocking her back and forth and stroking her long hair. Talley’s shoulders
relaxed and she sighed. Olivia knew that for a few precious seconds, the heartbroken
girl felt safe and loved. She could only hope that the chief wanted to do right by
Talley, because Talley obviously trusted her. If Annette Stevens were abusing that
trust, she’d be sorry. Not only would she have Olivia to answer to, but she’d also
have to face Millay, who had obviously adopted the role of Talley’s protector.

“This is a Hallmark card in the making,” Millay muttered under her breath as she sank
down on the chair next to Olivia. “Annette had better—” She stopped abruptly, taking
note of the bag on Olivia’s lap.

“The memory jug broke,” Olivia said. “A couple of kids bumped into it. Guess they
saved me the trouble of having to do it myself.”

Millay’s expression turned sympathetic. “Yeah, but still . . . that sucks. I would
have rathered it was your choice.” She gestured at the bag. “Was anything, like, revealed?”

Having been derailed by the vision of her father, Olivia hadn’t yet examined the shards,
so she passed the bag over to Millay. “Why don’t you take a look? I feel like I’m
going to need several shots of whiskey before I can move from this chair.”

“Did I miss something?”

“I’ll tell you later. Here comes Rawlings and the rest of the gang.”

By this time, Fletcher and Judson had joined Annette in the booth. Fletcher handed
Talley a plastic dry-cleaning bag containing a brightly colored dress. “Ms. Talley,
you’re going to be the belle of the ball.”

“Thanks, Mr. Olsen.” Talley took the dress and managed a small smile for Judson. “And
thanks for sitting with me yesterday. I know I was a wreck.” Her eyes filled with
tears again.

Judson wiggled his finger. “None of that, young lady. You need to get your game face
on. Your fans are waiting for you and I know you’re going to dazzle them just like
you always do.”

Talley hugged the dress, looking very young and very lost. “Should I close my booth?
I’d like Millay and Olivia to be able to take a break and watch me dance.”

Fletcher shook his head. “Judson and I will take over here. Why, I bet we sell every
basket you’ve got.”

As Rawlings, Harris, and Laurel drew near the booth, Olivia and Millay moved to the
center of the path to meet them, ensuring their conversation remained private.

“Did you learn anything useful?” Olivia asked.

Laurel shrugged. “It’s hard to say. There’s quite a bit of bluster and bravado with
that group. Don’t get me wrong—I think they’re all heroes for standing up to the Klan,
but the stories of courage grew more and more elaborate with every person we spoke
with.”

“And Munin?” Olivia sent an involuntary glance at the bag in Millay’s arms. “Was her
name familiar to anyone?”

Rawlings frowned. “No. Just with the old-timer behind us. He’s got ten years on everyone
else we interviewed and I asked him to keep thinking about her name. He has my card,
so all we can do is hope he can shake off a few mental cobwebs over the course of
the day.”

Harris pointed at Millay. “Is that . . . ?”

She nodded and Olivia told her friends how the jug had been knocked to the ground.

“Can we see the pieces?” Harris asked eagerly.

“Not now. I need to be with Talley,” Millay said, gesturing at Talley, who was now
walking arm in arm with Annette toward the stage area. “She’ll be alone with Annette
and I’m not sure I trust the woman. After all, if the lady chief wants the land for
herself, it’ll go back on the auction block should anything happen to Talley.”

Rawlings nodded. “I think it would be wise for us to keep watch over Miss Locklear
for the remainder of the day. Especially since many of the elderly members of the
tribe view her mother’s death with suspicion.” He indicated that they should get moving.
“I can fill you in while we walk.”

The friends kept close to each other like a school of fish heading for open waters.
Danger waited in the depths and they moved hurriedly, sensing it close in around them
like a dark shadow.

Olivia was glad to be sandwiched between Rawlings and Haviland. As they progressed,
the chief’s gaze swept over the faces of festivalgoers. Back and forth, back and forth
he looked, as if the answers to all the riddles they’d encountered could be revealed
in a suspicious glance or hostile stare.

“Tell me about Natalie,” Olivia prompted.

Without ceasing his observations, Rawlings reviewed what he, Laurel, and Harris had
learned. “We met a few women who knew Natalie. Their stories reinforce what we’ve
already heard—that she slipped on a patch of ice in the grocery store parking lot.
A cashier saw it happen, raced outside, and noticed that her shinbone was sticking
through her pants. He covered Natalie with a blanket and waited until the ambulance
came. At the hospital, she was put under while a doctor repaired her leg and she died
during the surgery.”

“Why?” Olivia demanded. “From blood loss? Shock? Drug allergies?”

“According to her file, I’d say it was the latter. She had an adverse reaction to
general anesthesia.”

Olivia noted the diverse faces and body types of the people in the crowd. “Some things
are still a mystery. The human body isn’t a simple machine.”

“That’s true,” Rawlings agreed. “We’re complicated. As unique as snowflakes. Or stars.”

She smiled at him, loving that he could still pause to appreciate life’s wonders despite
all that he’d witnessed in his twenty-plus years as a cop. He caught her smile and
gave her a little wink.

“Go on,” Millay said, sounding exasperated. “There’s got to be more to it or you wouldn’t
have brought Natalie’s name up again.”

“There is!” Laurel jumped in. “Apparently, Natalie had been put under once before—when
she was giving birth to Talley.”

Millay turned to her. “And what happened?”

Rawlings gave Laurel the go-ahead. “This is more your field than mine. Whenever the
women around the station start swapping labor stories, I high-tail it out of the room
as fast as my legs will carry me.”

“Men are such wimps.” Laurel snorted with mock disgust. “Natalie had an umbilical
cord prolapse, which means the cord was being delivered before the baby. That’s no
good because the baby’s oxygen and blood supplies can be cut off. The hospital staff
had to move quickly, so they gave Natalie general anesthesia and her doc delivered
the baby by C-section. Talley turned out just fine, but Natalie nearly died.”

“If she had an adverse reaction to general anesthesia once, why would anyone in their
right mind put her under a second time?” Olivia was astounded.

Rawlings shook his head. “I’m not sure, but it would appear that the hospital didn’t
have a record of the complication that arose during Talley’s delivery. I’ll have to
speak with someone on the hospital staff.”

The stage where Talley had performed yesterday came into view and Olivia’s pace involuntarily
slowed. The midday sun was bleaching the patch of grass where Willis fell with a yellow
white light. Without the forest’s shade, the air felt thick and cloying.

Rawlings touched her on the elbow. “Steady now,” he whispered so that only she could
hear.

Talley is amazingly brave,
Olivia thought as they joined the rest of the spectators gathered around the semicircular
stage.

“I’m going to poke my head in the tent,” Millay said and strode off.

Harris followed her with his eyes. “She’s really taking this personally,” he said.
“I’ve seen her angry before, but this is different.”

At the mention of anger, Olivia silently wondered if the person or people who’d covered
the Locklears’ cars with racial slurs were here at the powwow. Were they in the crowd,
waiting for Talley to begin her dance? Would they attend the evening’s celebration
of the Lumbees’ victory at the Battle of Hayes Pond if only to inflame their rage?

Her musings were disturbed by the eruption of multiple drumbeats. Lumbee men of all
ages formed a perimeter around the base of the stage, thumping out an infectious rhythm
in perfect unison. A few seconds later, dozens of women clad in multicolored dresses
burst onto the stage and the crowd released a raucous cheer.

Olivia was just lifting her gaze to search for Talley among the women when Millay
elbowed her way through the crowd and grabbed Rawlings by the arm.

“Someone’s after Talley!” she shouted, frantically waving a piece of paper in front
of the chief’s face. “Look, another time metaphor! It was in her purse!”