At Risk (33 page)

“Hmm,” Katie teased. “I think the plot thickens. Give with the dirt.”

“Nope, you’ll have to wait. I was wondering if you’d like to do some sightseeing, maybe rent a car and see some castles?”

“Sounds great. I’ll ask around, see if I can get a line on some neat places to stay. I know it’s kind of cornball, but I’d really love to go to one of those medieval dinners where everyone’s in costume.”

“I know you have classes, but I might even take a mini tour, the ones where you bike through quaint villages. There are some standing stones in the north.”

“Moms, there are stones everywhere! And sheep. Tons of sheep. They’re gorgeous from a distance, but they can really stop traffic. I know there’s some other stuff I need from home. I’ll e-mail you a list.”

“I don’t doubt it. Just keep in mind that I can only bring two suitcases, and I need room for my own stuff.”

They talked for another ten minutes, and then Katie had to run to meet a friend at the library. Liz hung up the phone with a grin on her face. For a little while, she’d reached out and touched the Katie she loved more than anything in the world. She knew it was natural that they’d hit a few bumps in their relationship. Katie was growing up, and she was as adamant about her independence as Liz herself had been at that age.

Liz realized she was hungry. It was too late for a real dinner, so she settled for a frozen low-cal pizza, a salad, and an apple. She thought about calling Michael and telling him her decision, but decided that the phone was a coward’s way out. No matter how hard it was, she had to do it face to face. She had just poured herself a glass of iced tea when the phone rang.

Caller ID showed a local number and the name A. Rafferty. Was Jack calling her from his parents’ home? She didn’t want to talk to him any more than she’d wanted to speak to Michael, but she picked up anyway.

“Lizzy?”

She was surprised to hear Nora’s voice rather than Jack’s. “Hi, Nora.”

“I wanted you to know that I’m bringing Georgie’s boat over tomorrow morning. No, before you start arguing with me, this is what my son wanted. It has nothing to do with you and Jack.”

“I can’t accept it,” she said. “I’d love to buy the boat, but—”

“Hush that talk, girl. Of course you can take it. Georgie loved it, and it’s the last thing I can do for him. You’ll take it, or I’ll know the reason why.”

“Nothing is settled between me and Jack. I’m scared, Nora. Too much has happened, too fast. I’m going to Ireland to visit Katie, and—”

“You’re scared? You’re not the only one. But you’re not to worry your heart over takin’ Georgie’s boat. There’s more reasons than you being the nicest young woman I know or you and Jack liking each other . . . It’s got nothin’ to do with Jack.”

Liz stretched the cord so she could reach her tea and took a sip. “What does it have to do with?”

“Your daddy and Georgie. You were too little to remember, but my Arlie used to drink as bad as Donald. Only, your daddy was a happy drunk, and whiskey made Arlie mean. He was hard on his boys, too hard. And I’m ashamed to say that I wasn’t much better. I used to take a belt to them, but Arlie was worse. The two boys were stubborn and ornery. Always sneakin’ off from chores, or talkin’ back. Georgie was the oldest, and he caught the most hell. Your daddy used to stick up for him. Said a boy without spunk wasn’t worth salt. Once, he and Arlie come to blows over it, and Donald took Georgie home to Clarke’s Purchase and kept him for two months.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true,” Nora said. “You can ask Jack. He remembers the bad times. I think it was thinkin’ he was losin’ Georgie for good that made Arlie see the light. Or it was just time we grew up and started actin’ like a mother and father ought to. We started going to church. I quit drinkin’, and Arlie gave up the hard stuff. It made a new man out of him. Oh, he takes a beer now and then, but it don’t set him off like the moonshine used to. You know your daddy made whiskey, didn’t you?”

“No-o-o.” Liz sank onto the kitchen stool, the glass of iced tea clutched in her hand. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yeah. He made good whiskey. Had him a still on a high spot deep in the marsh. That old Buck Juney worked for him on and off for years. It’s the reason he let Buck build a shack on your land. I always thought your daddy made up some of those crazy tales about Buck to keep people away from the still.”

Gooseflesh rose on Liz’s upper arms. “He worked for Daddy? Are you sure?”

Nora chuckled. “Who can be sure about anything, now that they’re both dead? But Georgie’s the one who told me, and he thought the sun rose and set on Donald Clarke.” Her voice grew serious. “Take the damn boat, Lizzy. It’s either that or start a family feud between the Clarkes and the Raffertys. And you know watermen. Once a thing like that gets teeth, it will last for at least three generations.”

“I’d like to pay something.”

“Nope. Consider it a gift from your daddy. I’m bringing it first thing in the morning. I should be there by nine at the latest. I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a ride home. If it’s not convenient, I can have Arlie—”

“Nonsense, Nora. Of course I’ll drive you home.”

“Good. Arlie and Jack are going to have their hands full tomorrow anyway. You heard the weather reports, haven’t you?”

“No. I haven’t had the TV on in days.”

“That hurricane that made such a mess down in the islands, it’s headin’ straight up the East Coast. Hurricane warnings are already being posted for the Carolina coast. It’s one reason I didn’t want to wait to bring Georgie’s boat. That old shed is rickety, and it’s liable to fall in on the boat and do real damage. You make sure you’ve got batteries and kerosene in case the power goes out. We haven’t had a bad blow in a while, and we’re about due.”

“I’ll check to be certain I’m prepared. I saw something about the hurricane in the paper yesterday, but it was supposed to be losing strength and turning east.”

“Well, Cassandra changed her mind. Winds are 120 and gaining speed. We’re safe here for another forty-eight hours, but after that . . .”

“I’ll check the weather station on the internet.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll see you in the morning then. And Lizzy . . .”

“Yes?”

“When you go to bed tonight, say a prayer for my Jack. He needs all the help he can get.”

Later, after Liz had finished her meal and gotten to the computer, she found the weather forecast as dire as Jack’s mother had warned. If the storm continued on track, it would pass directly over the DelMarVa. And when she went to her e-mail, she found three messages that had all come in after seven p.m.. The first, from Michael, said that he’d located a six-month-old German shepherd pup on eBay, out of the same bloodline as Heidi, and he was driving to Pittsburgh to see her. The second was from Jack. It read simply,
Let’s talk this out
.
Jack
. Finally a brief note from Amelia’s husband, Thomas, explained that he’d decided to postpone the memorial service for another week due to the threatening hurricane and travel difficulties for relatives driving up from the Deep South.

Thomas’s spare message brought back the loss of her friend, and Liz broke down and wept for the second time that day. She tried to imagine what school would be like in the fall without Amelia, and she couldn’t. How could the life of such a brilliant teacher end on a simple drive to her beach house? It was so unfair.

As she crawled into bed, eyes red and swollen, Liz mentally went over her emergency supplies and decided to run into Dover after she took Nora home in the morning. The hurricane might veer out to sea or it might hit the Carolinas and weaken, but it paid to be prepared, especially in such an isolated area. Hurricanes didn’t particularly worry Liz. She’d been far more apprehensive about the continual earthquakes in California. The brick walls of this old house had stood for three hundred years and probably would be standing long after she was dead.

Clarke’s Purchase had seen its share of heavy weather. Liz could remember once, when she was small, water rising within a few feet of the back porch and her father tying his rowboat to the gate. Luckily, the old house was built on a rise and the ground around it was sandy. There had been plenty of electric failures, but no water damage, unless you counted the rain that poured through the attic roof when high wind tore off a few shingles. Still, Liz was glad that Katie was safely away in Ireland.

“Everything bad comes in threes,” Nora had said. Three people around Liz had died. If the old superstitions were true, her run of tragedy was over. Wasn’t it?

Morning dawned gray, and the air felt still and heavy without the hint of a breeze. A quick check of the morning news told Liz that Cassandra was still moving north-northwest, bearing down on the Carolinas. Evacuations were under way all along the coast, and Norfolk was under a storm watch that extended all the way to Cape Cod.

Liz hurried though her shower and breakfast, then took Otto out for his morning run. She had found several heavy mooring ropes in the barn and carried them to the water’s edge before she heard the first rumbling of a boat motor. She walked to the end of the dock and watched as Nora rounded the bend in the river.

“Mornin’, Lizzy!” Nora waved as she covered the distance between them and brought the craft expertly to the dock. “Runs like a clock,” she called as she cut the engine and let the bow nudge the piling.

The two women quickly secured the runabout to the posts. It had been decades since Liz had helped her father ready their fishing boat for bad weather, but it all came back to her. The wind would likely push the tides much higher than usual, so she and Nora had to leave enough line so that rising water wouldn’t sink the boat, and at the same time, the line had to keep the craft snug enough against the dock to prevent damage.

“Would you like to come in for coffee?” Liz asked when they were finished.

“Love to, but I can’t,” Nora replied. “I need to get back and give Arlie moral support. Plus I promised to drive old Mrs. Horsey to the foot doctor. Those daughters of hers both work and can’t seem to find time to take her. And she don’t drive anymore. Not since she got caught going the wrong way on Route One. It’s her eyes. Her mind works fine, but she can’t see worth a damn.”

“No problem. Thank you for bringing the boat. I love it. It’s just what I wanted. I wish you’d let me pay you what it’s worth.”

“No more of that talk,” Nora said. “We’ve hashed that out. Georgie wants you to have the boat, and I brought it to you. Enough said. Enjoy it—that’s the best thanks you can give my son.”

Liz got her purse from the house, put the dog inside, and she and Nora got in the car. She stopped at the end of the lane to put a bill in the mailbox and noticed what looked like a police car parked on the road a few hundred yards away. “That’s odd,” she said. Anxious to see what was wrong, she turned right and drove to the end of her property line.

“Wonder what he’s doing out here,” Nora said.

Liz pulled up behind the state trooper. A young officer stood beside a second vehicle that had been parked on a grown-over lane and was nearly hidden from the road by the trees. The policeman seemed to be writing a ticket. “Wait here,” Liz said to Nora. She got out, barely able to conceal her rising anger.

The policeman glanced up and frowned. “Is this your car, ma’am?”

“No, but I know who owns it.” The Somerville parking sticker on the window removed all doubt. “I live there.” She pointed to her property. “The owner has made harassing phone calls to my home, trespassed repeatedly, poisoned a valuable dog, and threatened me. His name is Cameron Whitaker, and I want him arrested on charges of stalking.”

It was late afternoon when Liz returned from Dover. After she’d driven Nora home, she’d stopped at Wal-Mart to pick up extra batteries, raisins, granola bars, another flashlight, and bags of ice to fill her cooler. She’d wanted to purchase a battery-operated lantern to replace her propane one, but those were sold out. While she was there, she stocked up on fresh fruit, three new paperback novels, and a selection of goodies to snack on if she got bored. Storms always aroused her sweet tooth, and since she’d lost six pounds since Tracy’s death, she could afford to indulge herself. As she pushed her grocery cart out into the crowded parking lot, the sky was darkening and cold needles of rain were falling.

Filing the warrants against Cameron took nearly two hours, and more than once, she wished that Michael were there for moral support. She had the impression that the officer taking her complaint thought
she
was the kook. By the time she arrived back at Clarke’s Purchase, Liz almost hoped that Cameron would show up at her door. If he did, she wouldn’t need Otto’s protection; she was angry and frustrated enough to take him or any peeping Tom on single-handed.

Instead of turning into her drive, Liz kept going, passing the spot where Cameron’s vehicle still sat, a soggy yellow tag hanging out of the driver’s door. Odd, she thought. If he left it here much longer, the state would have it towed, and that would cost him. She imagined that Cameron might have seen the policeman, cut through the woods, and hitched a ride home. But why hadn’t he returned for his car?

As she pulled up to the back gate, Liz reached under the front seat and retrieved the revolver Michael had given her. She felt like a criminal, and she supposed that, technically, she was guilty of carrying a concealed deadly weapon. If she were caught and charged, that might be cause enough for her to lose her job at Somerville. A few weeks ago, after Katie, her professorship was the most important thing in her life. Now, her teaching position didn’t seem as vital. After losing both a student and a friend, she wondered if she could ever pick up her life where she’d left off.

Too much had happened. Everything had suddenly become more complicated, and if she didn’t get away to sort things out, she wasn’t certain she’d retain her sanity. She’d never considered herself overly emotional, yet ever since she’d learned of Amelia’s accident, she’d found herself bursting into tears without warning. She’d come close to it in the check-out line in Wal-Mart today when a tall, slender black woman walked by. For a split second, she’d thought the stranger was Amelia and nearly called out to her. Her friend’s death had hit her much harder than her mother’s, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get over it.