Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (21 page)

Eric dared to rub her tummy. He couldn’t wait to hold his new niece or nephew. “Won’t be much longer and you... still won’t be getting any sleep.” He grinned.

She arched her brows and made her eyes round. “Yeah, but at least then, the baby will wake Colton and Jonah, too.”

Eric spluttered. “You’re evil, Lila.”

“Pfft. Another week without sleep and I’ll show you some real evil.”

Some pregnant women glowed. Lila, not so much. Her face was puffy. Dark half moons marred the fair skin under her eyes. “You okay?”

“Fine. Fine.” She dragged her fingers through her hair. “Just need a decent month’s sleep, is all.” She rolled her eyes. “Damn doctor won’t even let me have coffee. I feel like a zombie, staggering around in eternal twilight.”

He turned toward Grams and held his hands out. “Dramatic, isn’t she?”

“Missed her callin’, I’d say.” Coralinne cackled. “She’d do good on one of them daytime shows. Got drama bigger’n that belly.”

“Don’t make me take your coffee.” Lila glared and pointed at the old woman, but she was laughing.

“Make her share,” he ordered Grams, tipping his head toward the box on the table. “She shouldn’t eat a whole dozen doughnuts by herself.”

“Oh, the
other
joy of being pregnant. Not only do total strangers think they can just reach out and molest my tummy, but every damn body turns into a doctor.” She crossed her eyes and jabbed a finger into Eric’s abdomen. “Although, you’ve probably seen more hoo-hahs than my obstetrician. I swear to God, I’ve got shoes older than that man.”

He blinked. Blinked again. Eric spun and grabbed the doorknob. “Call me when Jonah wakes. I’m doing something today he can help with.” He needed to give his baby brother a hug, a suit of armor, a steel codpiece... something. Poor guy.

Just past Dan’s driveway, the road began to climb. Evergreens lined the road on both sides, planted as windbreaks to protect the orchards. Their boughs were heavy with snow. His destination was near the top of the winding road, but to his relief, no trees had fallen across the rutted lane.

The machine shop had once been a busy spot, since something on a farm was always needing repaired, or some part had to be fabricated. He’d spent a million hours in this place, with his grandfathers and his father. He’d learned to use every tool before he turned eleven.

The pipe threader was mounted beneath a window overlooking an orchard. He’d just about finished adding threads to each end of the pipes when he realized something was different about the view. Yanking off his safety goggles, Eric tossed them onto the work bench and stepped outside.

An uninterrupted ribbon of white ran between the long rows of trees. The grass had been mowed, sometime back in the fall, he judged from the clipped height.

He walked the long shed from corner to corner, stepping over old tractor axles and staring at the scene below. Long-ignored, the De Marco orchards were filled with volunteer trees, springing from seeds in the unpicked peaches after they fell to the ground and rotted.

Their charcoal-colored bark contrasted vividly with the pristine blanket of white. Snow rested in the fork of each tree and laid on the thickest limbs. Not a single sapling marred the linear perfection of this row. Or the next. Or the next. Not one scraggly limb dragged the ground. Eric shoved his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and squinted against the glare.

He returned to the shed. Gathering the pipe, he threw it into the back of his truck, along with a couple of the huge kerosene blowers. On a hunch, he continued up the mountain. Turning left before he reached the old migrant camp at the top, he bumped along the access road that led to the derelict greenhouse and one of the irrigation pumping stations, gaping at row after row of neatly-pruned trees, all the way to the old quarry. Through the arching branches, the first glimpse of his destination was a sparkle of light. The cold sun struck a sheet of glass that hadn’t been there the last time he’d come here.

The greenhouse windows were fogged over, but with condensation, not a decade of grime. Broken panes had been replaced. The fan in the eave had been repaired. The large metal blades revolved at a sedate pace. The door had no lock. Eric stepped inside. The rush of heat made him shiver.

Hundreds of slender trees stood straight in one-gallon buckets, their trunks tied to stakes. White markers jutted from the dirt in the black plastic containers. The names on them tickled long-forgotten memories. Dark Beauty. Stony Heart. He strode down the aisles, his boots crunching on fresh pea gravel and his jaw hanging slack.

Someone was putting the orchard back in operation. But who? Had Dan rented out some of the farm? Granted a license to grow these trademarked varieties? He might do that, in order to generate some money to help Colton with Lila’s medical bills, or start a college fund for the new baby. That was how Dan thought. But that didn’t explain why his brother hadn’t mentioned it, or why Eric hadn’t noticed a strange truck driving past. This restoration had taken some major work.

Striding to his truck, he leaned against the grille and propped his elbows on the hood, staring down the mountainside. Thousands of trees huddled under the snow. The farmhouse was a spot of gold and silver at the foot of the mountain. He could see two deer in the front yard of the cabin, and smoke drifting over the trees marked Colton’s house. A flock of cardinals made vivid slashes against the blanket of white.

Unimpressed by the familiar scene, Eric fought to breathe. A tight knot formed under his ribs. It didn’t matter to him if Dan rented out part of the farm. He’d go along, if that was the plan. What mattered was that his brother was keeping secrets.

“D
id you play that recording for Eric?”

Amy shifted behind the wheel of her father’s car, squinting at the road. “No, but he did tell me something you might find interesting.” She repeated the tale about John Carpenter trying to lure Sarah closer while covered with bees.

Alice was quiet for a long time. “What I’m thinking makes my skin crawl. I know for a fact, women came here with the men working those orchards. Livia was concerned about the younger ones, living in a camp filled with men for months on end. She wanted her husband to stop letting their workers bring women, for their safety. We need to find that girl, Amy. Can you describe her? One of my students might know who she is.”

The recording had been on Amy’s mind, too. “Let’s say we find her. Then what? She might know about a rape that happened years ago. Isn’t there some statute of limitations? How does finding her help anyone?”

Alice sighed loudly. “Don’t they teach anything useful in Social Studies anymore? South Carolina law doesn’t have statutory limits on prosecuting major crimes. You need to watch less television and read more.”

If she had to read much more, Amy thought her eyeballs might explode. “Name me one book I could read that would tell me that.” She huffed when Alice remained silent. “Only a criminal would know that kind of thing. Or a lawyer. Or a librarian.”

Only a criminal would know.
But, if John Carpenter knew he wasn’t looking at much time for killing Cammie De Marco, then why hide her body? “Did her husband agree? To stop allowing women in the camp?” She felt weird asking such a question about Eric’s grandfather.

“No. He said it wasn’t any of his business if the migrants brought a few whores along. Made for happier workers. Livia almost divorced him over that. She moved out of their bedroom, she was so upset.”

Amy hit the turn signal and slowed to turn into the elementary school. “Wow, y’all must’ve been close friends.”

Alice shook her head. “Not really. Sometimes, it’s easier to be honest with someone you barely know. She came by the library twice a week for years and years. People didn’t just run to divorce court back then. They worked things out.”

Sleeping in separate bedrooms didn’t sound like working things out. Amy made a slow left turn into the elementary school and steered her father’s car into a parking space. Tucker had elected to ride with Gene, handing Amy his keys. “Did her husband change his mind?”

“About a week after she moved her things to a different bedroom, Nance had a heart attack. While he was in the hospital, she got his partner to see things her way. Emilio De Marco was a third-generation immigrant. He agreed that those Mexican women were vulnerable, so he stopped the crews from bringing young, single women.”

Amy turned off the ignition and handed Alice the keys. “Sounds to me like Eric’s family would make a good Social Studies learning module.”

Alice nodded. “Livia’s family traced their roots back to the earliest English settlers at Charles Towne Landing. Rafe’s great-grandfather landed at Ellis Island from Italy, around 1900. Worked his way south. You should get Eric to tell you his story. I can’t remember the details. Only took about seventy-five years for the son of an Italian immigrant to be considered good enough to marry a granddaughter of one of the town’s more illustrious families, but Livia adored her son-in-law. Until Eric’s sister got pregnant. While Livia and Rafe could agree on many things, they disagreed violently on abortion. She was furious because he wouldn’t put his daughter’s welfare above some church doctrine.”

Amy winced. She and Drew had similar disagreements. “Jonah’s a great kid,” she assured her mother.

Alice opened her door. “When did you plan to tell me you and Drew broke up?”

Amy exhaled loudly. Could her father keep nothing from her mother? “You might say he and I bumped heads over some of the same things that tripped up the De Marcos and the Chapmans.” When Alice’s eyes widened, Amy hastened to add, “Philosophically speaking.”

Her mother put an arm around Amy while they trudged through the snow. “Find a man who loves you for what you believe. What he does for a living isn’t as important as the rules he lives by.”

Amy nearly tripped over the curb. “I thought you’d be upset. I mean, I thought you liked Drew.”

“He’s a nice young man. Because you loved him, I liked him. Your dad....”

Amy nodded, glad the gymnasium door was unlocked when she pulled the handle. “Dress pants on Saturday. I know.”

Alice frowned. “That’s his way of saying he didn’t think you and Drew had much in common. But love is blind.”

“What a load of crap. Why do you put that garbage in her head, Alice?” Amy jumped and turned to look behind her. Her father stepped into the building, tapping his sneakers on the floor to shake off the snow.

“Didn’t you see the rug outside?” Alice demanded, glaring at Tucker’s snow-covered shoes.

“Infatuation is blind. Love sees every flaw, but still wants to be with you.” Tucker’s grin was wide when he threw an arm around Alice. “Go on, try and explain me and your mom being together for thirty-five years any other way. We got all day.”

W
hen Eric pulled out of the elementary school parking lot, dusk was just falling. Amy turned in the front seat to smile at Jonah, seated in back. “So, how’d you like wheelchair basketball?”

Before the teen could answer, his cell phone rang. Jonah silenced the rap music ringtone mid-note. Eric grinned. Jonah had ignored more than one phone call this afternoon.

“That was awesome. Would one of those guys let me use their chair to see if I could play like that, Amy?”

“I’m sure Kevin would. They let able-bodied people play in the league. You just can’t use your legs.”

“That’d be so co—” The ringtone blared again. Jonah sighed loudly. “Uncle E, you’re the break-up artist. How do I get rid of this Annabelle girl? She won’t stop calling and texting. She’s scared off the girl I really like.”

“Who might that be?” Amy asked.

“Estrella. Cutest little senorita north of the border. She’s helping me with my Spanish.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your Spanish,” Eric protested. “Every time I quiz you, you’re golden.”

Jonah chuckled. “Well,
obviamente
. But until I get rid of Annabelle, I can’t find out whether Estrella’s any good at French. So, you gonna tell me your secret, or not, Uncle E?”

Eric cleared his throat. They’d spent all afternoon together and Jonah waited till now to bring this up? Colton was falling down on the job. He needed to have “the talk” with the kid, about things you didn’t say in front of women. “Um, well, do you know some guy Annabelle doesn’t like?
Really
doesn’t like?”

“Yeah. How does that help me?”

Eric felt Amy’s stare, but kept his eyes on the road. “Act like that guy instead. She’ll dump you fast enough. Works every time.”

“Jeez, that’s brilliant.” Jonah reached over the seat, extending a fist. Eric dropped his on top.

“Wait a minute,” Amy protested, punching Eric on the arm. “Jonah, this thing with Annabelle? Is it incidental contact or did you commit a deliberate foul?”

“Huh? Whadda you mean?” Jonah asked.

Eric cringed.
Dammit, kid. Save yourself. Shut up.

Amy straightened. The dashboard lights illuminated her waving hands. “Incidental contact. You both were just playing the field. A call here, a text there, nothing serious, but you got bored with flirting before she did. Versus an intentional foul. You made Annabelle think you felt the same as her. Returned every call, sent her texts at night, walked her to class, but now you want to be with Estrella and you can’t man up and tell Annabelle the truth.”

Jonah flopped against the back of the seat, groaning. “I like your way, Uncle E,” he muttered. His ringtone sounded again. Eric offered to throw the kid’s damn phone out of his window.

Jonah laughed. “No way, dude. I love my cell phone. Besides, this is a text from Lila. She’s got dinner ready. Y’all wanna eat with us?”

Amy wouldn’t let the topic drop. “I’m serious, Jonah. This is the difference between being a decent person and being a jerk.”

Ouch.
“Cynda made us a roast.”

He didn’t respond to Amy’s few remarks while they ate, until she mentioned taking a dip in the pool. “Go for it. If I put in a few more hours on the project I started today, I can finish up.” He slid his plate onto the coffee table and got to his feet. “See you in the morning. Fair warning, Cynda and Lila have a snipe hunt planned tomorrow.”