Children of the Fog (21 page)

She thanked him, slid the laptop from its carrying case and set it on the counter. Once the laptop and phone were plugged in and charging, she settled into a stool, elbows propped up on the polished wood of the bar.

Ed slid a steaming mug toward her. "You look like you need this. Didn't get much sleep last night, did you?" His eyes strayed to her damp, messy hair and gaunt face.

"You could say that." She took a sip of coffee and let out a contented sigh. "This is heaven, Ed. Thanks. I still haven't figured out how to make coffee back at the cabin. Percolators are a bit before my time."

Ed swung a dishcloth over his shoulder. "The trick is to use a half a scoop less and a dash of cinnamon. And don't boil it too long."

"How about you just deliver me a carafe of coffee every morning," she suggested jokingly.

The grin that spread across the old man's face could have lit an entire town. "That's the best offer I've had in…well, decades." His face reddened, as if he just realized he'd spoken out loud.

Over the mug, she said, "How's the wife this morning?"

"You just had to go and spoil it," he grumbled. "Martha's doing fine. She works at the library."

He pronounced it "
lie-berry"
.

That gave Sadie an idea. She needed something to do for an hour while she waited for her things to charge.

"How do I get there?"

"Drive down to the main lights, turn south and it's two blocks past the Esso on your right hand side."

"Is it okay if I leave these here to charge?" she asked, indicating the laptop and cell phone.

"Sure, I'm here 'til midnight. No one'll touch 'em."

A waft of cool air made her shiver. Behind her, someone had entered the pub. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw a bald man veering down the hall to the washrooms.

She turned back to Ed. "Thanks. I'll be back in an hour."

"Take as long as you like."

As she headed outside, the lyrics of
Pretty Woman
trailed after her from the jukebox. Ed's gravelly voice sang along. He sounded just like his sister. And just as bad.

Sadie drove to the 'li-berry'. In the almost empty parking lot, she slid into a spot by the door, next to a dented maroon-colored Cadillac with a vanity plate that read BUKS4U, which could have meant
bucks for you
or
books for you.

She rolled her eyes. "Ten
bucks
says that's Martha's car."

Hinton Public Library held a modest collection of books and the walls displayed a montage of colorful posters, painted by the town's children, no doubt. The far right corner held a cozy children's nook with fluffy pastel pillows and low bookshelves. Overhead, a lifelike toy bat hung from the ceiling. A breeze—maybe from an open window—sent it fluttering the moment Sadie stepped inside. She stared at it and her mouth quivered.

"Can I help you?"

Sadie turned. A smartly dressed woman in her sixties rushed toward her, a stack of children's picture books in her arms. The woman was pleasantly rounded in a grandmotherly way, with curly gray-black hair that framed a plump face, hazel eyes and a cheerful smile. Attached to a silver chain around her neck, a pair of glasses rested against her chest. A nametag on the lapel of her jacket read,
'Martha V'
.

"I'm in town for the day," Sadie explained. "And thought I'd check out your library, Martha."

"Well, let me know if you need anything, Miss…uh…"

"Sadie O'Connell. I'm—"

The woman just about dropped the books. "Not Sadie O'Connell, the author!"

Sadie winced. "Actually…yeah, the author."

Martha's chin dropped. "Good grief! I didn't even recognize you. You look—" The woman caught herself, beamed a bright smile, then motioned Sadie to a table in the corner. "Can I get you a coffee or anything?"

"Thanks, but I think I'm all coffee'd out. I was just at your husband's pub."

Martha set the books down and settled into a chair. "Please, have a seat, Miss O'Connell. Are you feeling all right? You look a little under the weather."

Under the weather
was an understatement, and Sadie knew damned well that the woman was being polite.

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"That's dreadful." Martha folded her pudgy hands primly in her lap. "So what brings you here?"

An appointment with death, Sadie wanted to say.

"I'm staying in Cadomin for a while."

A swift smile lit up the woman's face. "You know, we don't get too many authors of your status around here. Would you consider doing a reading?"

A reading was the last thing Sadie wanted to do. That meant socializing with people, lots of smiling and no time to finish Sam's book.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just passing through. I have a…deadline to meet."

Martha's smile drooped. "Maybe later then. In the summer, perhaps. Wait! How long are you staying?"

"Not long. Another month maybe."

"Well, if you change your mind…"

I won't.
"I'll let you know."

"So what can the Hinton Public Library do for you?"

Sadie shrugged. "I'm trying to kill some time while I wait for my laptop and phone to charge. They're over at Ed's."

Martha rose gracefully. "Well, how about I give you a little tour, then? We have some historical memorabilia here that might interest you." She slid her glasses over her nose as they reached a wall of photographs. "This is our history wall. Hinton became a real settlement when the Grande Trunk Pacific Railroad passed through over a hundred years ago. Then in 1931, the Hinton mine opened. Ten years later, Hinton was a ghost town. Until 1955, when the first pulp mill went in." She paused, breathless. "Am I boring you?"

"Not at all."

And that was the truth. History had always fascinated Sadie, and it often found its way into her novels.

Martha tapped her mouth with one finger. "You're staying in Cadomin, you said?"

"At Harmony Cabins."

"How wonderful. Ed's always fretting about his sister being out there by herself. Well, if you don't count those men in the other cabins. It'll be nice for Irma to have another female around."

Sadie's attention drifted to a photo of a cave. "Is this nearby?"

"Cadomin Cave, one of the major sights in these here parts. It's not too far. Just follow the signs on your way back to the cabins. It's well marked."

Sadie sighed. "My son would've loved it."

"Unfortunately, it's closed. Can't go in until May, or you'll disturb the bats and kill them."

"Kill them?"

"If they wake up too early in the spring, they'll starve to death," the woman explained.

Sadie moved on to the next set of photos. Many were restored black and whites with curled edges, illustrating the progression of the town's development. In some of them, hardworking farmers plowed fields of barley and hay.

"Agriculture always was very important in this area," Martha continued. "It still is. Many Hinton families have been farmers for generations."

Farther down, a row of women's portraits graced the wall.

Sadie nudged her head in their direction. "Who are they?"

"All of our librarians."

"How come you aren't up there?"

"I'm just a volunteer," Martha said, looking disappointed.

Sadie patted her arm. "I'm sure you're much more than that."

She studied the portraits, admiring the artists' techniques. It was interesting to see the progression of fashion styles and facial expressions. In the earlier paintings, the women stared straight ahead, unsmiling. Halfway down, that changed.

But it was the portrait on the end that made her pause.

The woman in it looked vaguely familiar. She sat in a green plaid wingback chair, her pale blond hair swept up into a loose bun. She had a half-smile on her face, but it didn't reach her vacant blue eyes.

Martha cleared her throat. "Did you know Carissa?"

"She looks…familiar. I think I've seen her recently."

"That's not possible." Martha's response was quick, almost breathless.

"No, I'm sure I've met her. Somewhere."

"She's passed on."

"Passed on?" Sadie caught sight of the mournful expression in Martha's eyes.
Dead, you idiot. Like Sam.

"Yes. Four years ago."

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any of my books here, would you?" Sadie asked, adroitly changing the subject.

"Of course we do," Martha replied proudly. "We have all of them. It was Carissa who discovered you, when she went to the city the year before she died." She waddled over to a bookcase and pulled a hardcover from the shelf. "Here we go.
Deadly Diamonds
. It's one of my favorites."

Sadie dug in her purse for a pen. "Can I sign some of them?"

"Really? Oh my! That would be wonderful."

On the title page of
Deadly Diamonds
, Sadie wrote a dedication to the library and signed her name. Then she signed three more books and handed them to Martha.

"The rest have been checked out," the woman said. "Of course, we'll have to keep an eye on these, make sure no one checks them out
permanently
." She let out a girlish giggle and her double chin shook. "Maybe I can get you to sign one of mine sometime."

"I'll be back in two days. My laptop doesn't last much longer than that. I'll try to stop by."

"I'm here every day 'til two."

Sadie peeked at her watch. Her laptop had been charging for almost an hour. It was now past one, past lunch. She was getting hungry. Time to go home and dig into the bologna and cheese she had in the cooler.

"Well, I'd better get back to the pub." On the way out, she remembered something. "Martha, what kind of car do you drive?"

"A red Caddy," the woman replied. "Why?"

"Just curious."

Sadie smiled. Ten bucks! She'd get takeout.

At Ed's Pub, she picked up her laptop, phone and an order of fish and chips. She bought a small yellow flashlight—the only one in stock—and extra batteries at the hardware store and drove back to the cabin. Passing the sign for Cadomin Cave, she felt an impulsive urge to turn down the road, but remembered Martha's warning—the cave was closed until May.

She thought of the blond-haired librarian in the photo.

It wasn't until she was eating her lunch on the veranda that she remembered where she had seen her before. The woman had been wearing a teal jacket.

And holding Sam's hand.

22

In a daze of confusion, she struggled with the impossible idea that she had seen a dead woman.

And Sam.

"So, what—you're seeing ghosts now? I see and hear dead people. Great. Now what would Philip say to that?" At the sound of her husband's name, she recalled something. "Damn!" She'd forgotten to mail his documents.

Intent on packing everything into a box and bringing it to town the following day, she hurried down the path and unlocked the Mercedes. She grabbed the plastic bin, hefted it to her hip and slammed the trunk. Then she started back, walking cautiously, since she couldn't see her feet.

By the time she reached the cabin, she was covered in a thin layer of sweat and every muscle in her arms ached. She pushed aside the back door with her hip, realizing too late that she'd nudged it a bit too hard. The door hit the inside wall. Then it rebounded back at her and threw her off balance. The bin flew out of her hands and upended on the ground, scattering papers, binders and file folders everywhere.

"Shit!"

Startled by her unusual outburst, she covered her mouth and giggled. Leah was right. Swearing
was
liberating.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Grinning, she swept the mess of papers and files into a pile, and as she dumped everything back into the bin, a plain white envelope caught her eye. It was addressed in block letters to Philip. At his office. Besides the fact that it had no return address, there was something peculiar about the envelope, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

She opened it.

The letter had one paragraph of typed print and was dated over two years ago.

Philip, it began. Leave me alone! I told you that night was a mistake. It can never happen again. Ever! I will never forgive myself if Sadie finds out.

It was signed
L
.

"LaToya," she said, scowling. "I knew it. Just another notch in Philip's belt."

Since there was no time to surrender to jealousy and regrets, she tucked the letter back inside the envelope and tossed it into the bin, which she dropped on a kitchen chair and hastily put out of her mind.

She spent the afternoon outside on the veranda, painting and soaking up the warm sun. The drawings had evolved to watercolors, and time flew by as she lost herself in her work.

"Soon you'll be done, Batty."

More and more, she caught herself talking to the comical little rodent on the paper. Around four o'clock, she finished shading the entrance of a forbidding cave and she would have continued painting, but a strong breeze made her look up. The sapphire sky was being gobbled up by ravenous charcoal clouds.

"Damn. Time to pack it in."

She brought everything inside, and the moment she shut the door, the wind kicked up, howling in rebellion like a toddler in a full-blown temper tantrum. Immediately, the skies unleashed a torrential downpour that pounded the roof. Between the rain, wind, crackling fire and occasional sickened gong from the grandfather clock, Sadie felt as though she were sitting front row at a symphony that was seconds from an earsplitting crescendo.

Since there wasn't much else she could do, she curled up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate and a photo album. It was the perfect time to do something she had been putting off for weeks—a melancholy but necessary trip down memory lane.

Taking a deep breath, she flipped open the album.

Her mouth lifted. "You were so tiny, Sam. So perfect."

The photo had been taken in the hospital the day Sam had been born. His eyes were open and his skin emanated a healthy blush. She remembered how her heart had ached for nine months wondering if he'd be born healthy or if she'd miscarry like the others. After Sam was born, she kept asking the nurses, "Are you positive he's okay?" They assured her that he was.