The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (28 page)

Finch tramped in from the barn, and Hector appeared a few minutes later, yawning as if just out of bed. Laura glanced up at him, then away, struggling to maintain her composure. Didn’t her heart know to stop pounding? Judging from last night’s activities, she’d been the furthest thing from his mind.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be joining us,” she remarked mildly.

“Me neither.” He yawned again, scrubbing his head.

In his jeans and sleeveless undershirt he seemed almost indecently exposed. She tried not to stare at the ridges on his chest and back, to which the thin cotton clung; at the tightly packed muscles in his arms, with their veins that would pulse warmly beneath her fingers. She was careful, too, not to meet his eyes, the color of the dark beans he was scooping into the grinder—his own private stash.

“I figured you’d want to sleep in. After getting in so late, and all.” Laura kept her tone light.

He didn’t even look up. “Did I wake you? Sorry. Muffler’s going on the truck. I’ll get it looked at next week.” The whir of the coffee grinder saved her from having to reply.

When he was seated at the table, steaming mug in hand, Laura slid a piece of toast onto his plate. He shook his head when she passed the butter. “Better not. I’m taking it easy on my stomach.”

Maude glanced at him in alarm. “I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

“More like the dog that bit me.” He gave a low chuckle. “Used to be I could kick back with a few beers and not feel it the next morning. Must be getting old.”

“I know the feeling,” Maude sighed.

“I’ll get you some Alka-Seltzer.” Laura started to get up.

Hector reached out to lightly capture her wrist. Their eyes met briefly, and she felt a little current of electricity travel up her arm. “I know where to find it. You stay put.”

His fingers burned against her skin. Could he feel her pulse racing? She waited a polite beat before slipping free to butter another slice of toast she didn’t want or need. “I’m interviewing another person on Monday,” she said to no one in particular.

She glanced up to find Hector regarding her thoughtfully over the rim of his mug. “You’re sure your mom won’t change her mind?”

“She won’t.”

“You sound as if you wish she would.”

“It’d be better than feeling guilty all the time.”

Maude patted her hand reassuringly. “Your mother has a mind of her own. I’m sure she’s only doing what’s best for her.”

“She’s been doing a lot of that lately,” Laura muttered darkly.

“She’s having a baby.” Maude spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, never mind that Sam was old enough to be a grandmother. “When women are expecting they do all sorts of things they wouldn’t normally.” She was getting that far-off look again. “I remember when I was carrying Elroy. I took it into my head to visit my Aunt Ida. Didn’t make a whit of difference that she lived all the way out in Providence, Rhode Island. I wouldn’t rest until I was on that train.” Maude smiled absently at the framed sampler on the wall:
NO MATTER WHERE I PUT MY GUESTS, THEY ALWAYS LIKE MY KITCHEN BEST
. “It was two days before I could keep anything down. By the time I stepped off that train, I was so faint I could barely stand up.” She sighed. “There’ve been times I’ve wondered if that’s why Elroy turned out the way he did.”

“It’s not your fault,” Finch said.

Maude turned to her. “What? Elroy?”

“You didn’t make him the way he is.”

Out of the mouths of babes,
Laura thought.

“Maybe not, but he’s still my son.” Maude shook her head sadly.

Finch shot her an apprehensive look. “That doesn’t mean you have to live with him.”

“Who said I was going anywhere? Goodness, I’d already made up my mind about that long before he came to see me. And after the way you chased him off, I’m fairly certain he won’t be back any time soon. Though I would welcome an occasional visit”—she smiled naughtily—“as long as it didn’t include Verna’s cooking.”

“I hope my mother doesn’t see me the way you do Elroy—as someone trying to bully her,” Laura fretted aloud. “I certainly never intended for it to turn out this way.”

“I don’t know about your mom quitting.” Hector chewed thoughtfully on his toast. “But moving into a smaller place makes sense. That big house of hers is a lot to handle.”

“At least she had Lupe and Guillermo. Out there, she’ll be all alone.” Laura didn’t have to mention the murderer on the loose; it was all anyone could talk about these days.

“What if she’s not alone?” Finch glanced innocently about the table.

Laura sighed. “You mean Ian? Nobody seems to know.” She didn’t add that no one had had the guts to ask, either. And with Ian off on some other project, it was anyone’s guess. “All I know is that I’m going to have a hard time replacing her at the shop.”

“I could work for you,” Finch said tentatively.

You’ll be in school,
Laura almost said, but bit her tongue. “It certainly is a thought. Maybe you could start by lending me a hand until I work something else out.”

Maude rose from the table. “Why don’t I wash up? You must have other things to do.” She cast a pointed look at Laura.

Laura remembered the scream Maude had heard.

“I should check up on the Vincenzis,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “You know Anna. When I phone, she always says everything’s fine.” The last time she’d dropped by, Laura had found poor Anna close to tears as she struggled to restrain her mother, who had her coat and hat on and was insisting she had to pick her children up from school.

“I’ll keep you company. Bet she could use someone to trim that hedge.” Hector’s chair scraped over the worn linoleum. “Wait here, I’ll get my clippers.”

It wasn’t until they were strolling side by side along the dusty road that Laura began to relax. It should have been just the opposite; she should have found it tougher being alone with Hector. God knows he wouldn’t have noticed if she’d stripped off her clothes and danced naked in the road. What was he thinking about as he ambled beside her, grass-stained clippers in hand? The woman he’d been with last night?

After a few minutes, he cast her a sidelong glance, observing mildly, “You’re awful quiet. Everything okay?”

“I was just thinking about Finch,” she lied.

“Still haven’t figured out what to do with her?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I just have to find a way of doing it.” She wished she could confide in him, but a promise was a promise. “Listen, if I have to go to New York for a few days, you’ll look after everything while I’m gone, won’t you?”

“First your mom, now you,” he teased. “What’s so special about New York?”

“I can’t tell you yet. Just trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

He nodded. “No problem. Take as long as you like.”

“I have to make some calls first. I’ll let you know, okay?”

They walked in silence a little longer, then Hector touched her elbow. “Everything else okay? With you, I mean.” His eyes glinted in the shadow cast by the brim of his hat.

She knew what he was referring to: the baby. “I’m fine.” Laura kicked at a rock. Along the shoulder wild-flowers heavy with dew—prickly poppy and golden yarrow, meadow rue and wild onion—nodded drowsily in the morning sunlight.

“That’s good.”

Laura squinted up at the hot blue August sky, where a scattering of clouds scudded over distant Sulphur Peak. “All right,” she said at last, “I’m still not happy about it, but if my mom wants to screw up her life that’s her business.”

“Maybe it wasn’t so great to begin with.”

Laura shot him a narrow look. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Look, it’s not my place to say anything, but I had the impression your mom wasn’t all that happy.” He didn’t have to say it:
before Ian.

There was a time Laura would have told him he was crazy, but now she found herself asking, “Did she say anything to make you think that?”

“Just a hunch.”

Laura sighed. “Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

Around the next bend, the Vincenzi house came into view. Ranch style, like hers, with a long dirt drive. But that was where the comparison ended. Anna, her hands perpetually full with her mother and Monica, clearly had no time or energy left over for upkeep. Paint peeled from the clapboard siding, and the roof was a checkerboard of missing shingles. In the yard, weeds had overtaken the lawn and the hedge, as Hector had predicted, was badly overgrown. It would take weeks to get this place in shape.

Laura felt angry all of a sudden. You’d think Monica, with all her money, would do more than simply employ Anna. Mrs. Vincenzi was
her
mother, too. The same was true of Anna’s younger sister, Liz—not as rich as Monica, but successful enough. The least they could do was pitch in for full-time nursing care.

She knocked on the front door. Usually Anna rushed to answer it, looking flushed and a bit anxious, as if half expecting bad news. But when the creak of footsteps finally came, they sounded weary and defeated—as if bad news had already found Anna.

Laura barely recognized the woman who answered the door. Anna’s mousy hair was disheveled, her skin blotchy as if from exertion. Even the robe she had on was buttoned up wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Vincenzi who’d screamed, Laura thought, but Anna herself. Out of sheer frustration.

“Laura. Hector. What a nice—I wasn’t expecting you.” Anna’s smile flickered like a faulty bulb. “Sorry, but this really isn’t a good time. I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

She broke off at the sound of a loud shriek: old Mrs. Vincenzi having one of her spells.

“Anything we can do to help?” Laura asked gently, not wanting to intrude. At the same time, it would have been inhumane to walk away.

“No. Thanks. I can handle it.” Anna cast an anxious glance over her shoulder.

Laura was grateful when Hector pushed past her into the house, saying firmly, “We’re here. Might as well pitch in.” Anna must have been grateful, too. She didn’t protest.

The living room was dark, as if there hadn’t been a moment to so much as draw the curtains. It smelled, too. Like a house that had been shut up too long. There was something so tired and sad about it all. Like a tire with the air slowly leaking out of it.

They found Mrs. Vincenzi crouched inside the hall closet, arms over her head, and knees pulled in tightly against her chest. She lifted her head only long enough to let loose another shriek. “Joey, no! Not the face!
Please not the face.
”

Laura turned to Anna. “Who’s Joey?”

“My father.” Anna’s shoulders slumped. Right now she looked closer to her mother’s age than Laura’s. “He died when I was little.” She didn’t need to elaborate.

Hector lowered into a crouch, the worn heels of his boots hovering an inch or so off the floor. “It’s okay, Mrs. Vincenzi. Nobody’s going to hurt you.” He spoke soothingly, the way he did to horses.

“Please, no.
Noooooooooooooo.
” The old woman began to sob, clutching her head as if to shield it from imaginary blows. Empty hangers clacked overhead.

“Mama. For God’s sake, Mama.” Anna sounded close to tears herself.

The old woman’s head jerked up to reveal pale wet eyes staring in naked terror at something only she could see. “Don’t you
dare
lay a hand on those children! Joey, don’t you dare!”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Vincenzi. He’s not here. You can come out now.” Hector went on in that low, gentle voice no horse or human had ever failed to respond to. He held out a blunt, work-hardened hand.

The old woman eyed it with suspicion. “Go ’way.”

“Mama…” Anna pleaded.

The old woman dissolved once more into sobs, rocking back and forth as she keened, “No…not the children…
no…no…no…
”

Laura hunkered down beside Hector. “Would you like to see your children, Mrs. Vincenzi?”

This time, when she lifted her head, the expression on the old woman’s pale, doughy face—which bore a disquieting resemblance to Anna’s—was one of trembling expectancy. “They’re all right?”

“They’re fine. I’ll take you to them if you like.” Laura held out a hand.

A long moment passed. Then all at once, the old woman went as boneless as the old coat sagging from a hanger overhead. Bony fingers, more claw than hand, closed around Laura’s. She couldn’t help noticing, as Mrs. Vincenzi staggered to her feet, that her quilted pink robe was the twin to Anna’s. She had a sudden image of Monica killing two birds with one stone at Christmas. Wouldn’t that be just like her?

A short while later, with her mother settled on the sofa in front of the TV, peaceful as a baby, Anna turned to them. “I don’t know how to thank you. If you hadn’t come along when you did—” Her voice caught.

“What are neighbors for?” Laura was careful not to make too big a deal. It would only embarrass Anna.

She bit her lip. “You’ve done so much already.”

“It goes both ways. You have no idea what a load off my mind it is knowing you’re just down the road.” One day, when she could, Anna would return the favor.

Anna smiled weakly, fingering a button on her robe. “Isn’t this awful? I can’t even offer you a cup of coffee.”

“We’ve had ours. Why don’t you sit while I make you some?”

Laura looked around to find that Hector had slipped out the door—no doubt to trim the hedge. She took Anna’s arm, leading her into the cheerless kitchen with its wallpaper sporting a faded pattern of windmills. It was spotless except for the dirty dishes in the sink.

Anna followed her gaze and blushed. “I haven’t had a chance to wash up. She kept me up half the night.”

Laura wondered again about the scream Maude had heard. “Did she wander off again? Maude thought she heard—” She broke off at the sound of Hector yelling from the backyard. Lord, what now?

The two women raced to the back door. The yard was as overgrown as the front, and it was a moment before Laura spotted him, standing under an acacia tree from which an old tire swing hung, staring fixedly at something on the ground.

She was halfway to him when she saw something sticking up from the tall weeds: a hand with long red fingernails. Below it, a pale belly over which flies swarmed thickly.