Time Is a River (18 page)

“How often did he come to town?” Mia asked, gently steering her back to the story.

Mrs. Minor leaned back in her chair. “For four years he came every spring and every fall. Behind their palms folks used to joke they knew when to change their clocks by when that fancy rail car showed up at the depot. Course, the reason he came was for the fishing. Everybody knowed that. And course, he always got Miss Watkins for his guide. Nobody gossiped, at least not much. I guess you could say the town looked the other way. We all had too much respect for the Reverend. And them two never did nothing that anyone could point a finger at. He rented that fishing cabin from the Watkins family when he came. It was all up-and-up. They’d fish together, of course. I remember Kate had this real pretty white horse. Lord it was a big animal. Testy, too. He scared me half to death. But not Kate. She’d ride that horse most every day in the mountains and when DeLancey came, he rode with her. Once in a while they would come to town to eat dinner. But they never did any of that lovey-dovey stuff. At least not in public. Kate knew how to be proper and DeLancey was a gentleman. But anyone who saw the way he looked at her…” She sighed. “And the way she looked at him. Well, you knew. You can’t hide a love like that.

“I never understood why her daddy allowed it. I asked my mama once and she said he just knew Kate was different and he wanted her to be happy. I guess we all did. She went all dark inside when her cousin, Lowrance, died in the war. But when DeLancey came she was her old self again.”

She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “I’m not saying that DeLancey wasn’t a fine man. He was all right. I don’t reckon he meant to get caught up in all this, same as Kate. It weren’t that he was bad. More that he was…weak. My mama said he never should’ve come sniffin’ around Kate’s door. Him being married and all. It was bound to turn out bad for Kate. But none of us saw where it was heading. People said afterward that poor DeLancey paid the highest price for his loving Kate. But I say that ain’t so. They don’t know. Kate paid, all right.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She paid and paid and paid.”

Mrs. Minor’s head drooped forward and her shoulders shook as she silently wept. Lucy wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders, then looked to Mia.

“I think you’d better go now.”

Mia nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She rose and stood for a moment in agony, thinking there was something more she should say.

“Good-bye,” she said awkwardly. “Thank you for talking to me.”

Mrs. Minor looked up with red eyes and waved her hand. “Now honey, don’t be feeling sorry. You did nothin’ wrong. I’m an old woman and I feel things stronger. You come back. I want to tell you the whole story before my time is over. I’m just tired now, is all. Come on back and visit with me some more, hear? And bring Belle. I want to see little Theo’s daughter.”

T
hunder rumbled overhead, low and threatening. Mia looked up to see a large, angry front of dark clouds coming in from over the mountains, covering the late-morning sky like a lid being slowly pulled over the earth. When she looked upstream toward where Stuart stood, she saw that he, too, had stilled his rod and was checking the weather. A sudden gust of wind swept across the water, bringing cold droplets across her face.

“We’d better get out of the water,” he shouted.

Before he’d finished the sentence the first drops of rain fell, icy and hard. She drew her line in as quickly as she could and made her way across the stones and silt, feeling the wind pushing at her back.

Stuart was already at the bank swooping up their backpacks. “Hurry!” he called to her, and his voice mingled with another roar of thunder, louder this time. Over the ridge lightning lit the underbelly of the clouds, turning them an electric purple and yellow. “It’s going to be a downpour. Give me your rod. Let’s try and make it to the Jeep.”

Mia began to sprint, holding her hat with her hand as the cold wind tugged. The temperature was dropping and looking up she could see a slate gray line of rain moving toward them. All she could think while her heavy, booted feet pounded the earth was
Why did we wander so far from the Jeep?
Stuart was way ahead of her on the path carrying the rods, but though the Jeep was in sight, she knew he wouldn’t make it to the car dry.

Lightning flashed, turning the sky white, and only seconds later thunder cracked, shaking the earth. The sky opened up. Cold rain plastered her hair down her face and soaked her clothes. She could barely see the Jeep through rain as thick as fog, but Stuart spotted her coming and pushed open the door and helped her in. When he slammed the door shut behind her, she slumped against the seat and caught her breath. Prying open an eye she saw Stuart leaning against his seat, his mouth open and water dripping down from his hair. When he turned his head and saw her looking at him with the same shock and wonder, his mouth moved to a grin and they both burst out laughing.

“Whoa,” he said, mopping his face with his palm. “That storm came on fast. I thought that lightning was going to fry us.”

On cue the thunder cracked seemingly right on top of them. Mia jumped and grabbed his arm, then laughed again.

“You’re soaked,” he said. “I’ve got to have a towel in here somewhere.”

He climbed up to reach over the seat and scrounged in the back. He tossed a ratty old towel over his shoulder. It smelled musty but it was clean. Mia dried her dripping hair and face while Stuart continued to search the back. His hips butted her head as he stretched, so she pulled back flat against the door. When he slid back to his seat he carried with a look of triumph an insulated bag, a thermos, and a fleece.

“Always be prepared,” he said with a self-righteous smile.

The peak of the storm was right over them, a maelstrom of wind, thunder, and flashes of light, but with Stuart she wasn’t afraid. Rain battered the black, soft top of the Jeep like a drum, creating a din that they couldn’t speak over. She handed him the towel and watched him sweep it across his face and hair. Then he returned it to her, following up with the fleece. She indicated with her hands that he should take it. His eyes flashed like the sky outside and he pushed the fleece firmly her way.

She accepted his offering gratefully. She was shivering in her soaked clothes, and the fleece felt like a blanket around her shoulders. Stuart opened the thermos and she caught the heady scent of coffee, almost swooning when the steam rose from the black liquid. He handed the plastic cup to her and, sipping, she felt the warmth slide down her throat and into her bloodstream. She drank quickly, then handed the cup back to him so he could have some as well. Next he unwrapped peanut butter sandwiches from zip-lock bags and handed her one.

She was having a good time, she realized. She felt snug and safe in the compact space, sitting thigh to thigh with Stuart, feasting on sandwiches and coffee. It was exciting to look out the window and through the sheets of rain to see the power of the wind as it bent the grasses and bowers of trees and swept across the water like a broom.

The storm passed as quickly as it came. The mighty clouds marched to the sea like Sherman’s army, the thunder now muffled like the distant boom of cannons. The rain had slowed to a rhythmic patter, and from the northern ridge she could see a slice of blue sky.

She turned from the window to see Stuart still looking out. She stole the moment to study his unguarded face. His thick, dark eyebrows and the scruffy stubble along his jaw made his pale blue eyes shine out like beacons. They were his best feature and always drew her attention.

“Nothing like a good summer storm,” Stuart said, turning his head back.

“I’ve always liked thunderstorms,” Mia replied, settling comfortably against the door to face him. She slicked her hair back from her head and zipped the large olive green fleece high up her neck. Bringing her knees up, she felt like she was tucked under a blanket. “We always used to play the counting game between the flash and the crack of thunder to see how far away the storm was.”

“Me, too. And it was pretty close today.”

“I know,” she said, curling her toes. “The storms seem more violent up here in the mountains than down by the shore. Probably because we’re closer to them.”

“I remember a storm once when the thunder cracked so fierce a whole herd of cows dropped to their knees. You don’t forget a sight like that.”

“Did you grow up in the mountains?”

“I did. I grew up in this great old place in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s part cabin, part house—added on to here and there over the years.” His eyes warmed as he envisioned the homestead and he leaned back, tilting his shoulders to face her.

“It originally belonged to my grandfather and his five brothers. What a bunch of characters they were, all fresh off the boat from Scotland. And all of them fly fishermen. They shared the cabin growing up but as the years passed my grandfather bought them out as they lost interest, bought other places, you know how it is. My grandfather worked in insurance but his life was fly-fishing. He taught my father and my father…Well, we fish together, but you know how it is sometimes with fathers. They don’t always have time to spend with their kids. So my grandfather picked up the slack, happily. He took me out with him every weekend and I don’t know who enjoyed it more.” His voice grew wistful. “My dad came along when he could. Don’t misunderstand. He’s a great guy. I come from a close family. My mother and father still live in the house I grew up in. My two sisters live within a day’s drive away. So we see each other a lot. But when my grandfather died, I don’t know, home just wasn’t the same for me.”

“What happened to the cabin?”

“It’s still there.” He took a sip of his coffee. “My grandfather left it to me.”

She smiled, understanding how much that inheritance meant to him. “How old were you when he died?”

“Twenty-seven. I was grown up. It was time for me to move on. But I still feel cheated. There isn’t a day I’m on the river that I don’t feel him with me. He’s just casting farther downstream.” He refilled the thermos cup and handed it to her. “How about you?”

The coffee steam wafted to her nose as she brought the cup close. “There aren’t many of us. My grandparents have all passed on.”

“And your parents?”

She sipped her coffee and felt the familiar pang of loss. “My parents are gone, too. My mother died when I was thirteen. My father five years later.”

“I’m sorry. That had to be a terrible loss.”

“It was. Still is. I’ve spent my life searching for my mother in one way or another. She died of breast cancer. Back then detection and treatment were not as high-tech as they are today. She had a radical mastectomy, chemo—the works. But she went downhill fast. My father was devoted to her. She was his whole world. After she died, he aged right before my eyes. We all grew older seemingly overnight. She was such fun. She loved packing us all up and going to dinner and a movie on Friday night, or to the beach on Sunday afternoons. My dad had this sailboat and he used to take us out in the harbor. She used to say that he was the captain but she was the navigator.”

Mia’s heart kindled with the memory, seeing her mother in white shorts and tennis shoes, laughing with her hair in the wind. She’d always wanted a man to look at her the way her father had looked at her mother.

“Were you an only child?”

“No, I have one sister. Madeline.” Mia’s eyes softened at the thought of her. “Maddie is six years older than I am and she’s been more a parent to me than sister. She’s coming up next week and you’ll meet her then. I warn you, she can be a little bossy, but I guess she’s earned the right. She was there for me growing up, then during the cancer. She’s my best friend. In fact, she was the one who sent me to Casting for Recovery.”

“Does she fly-fish?”

“Maddie? No,” Mia replied with a light chuckle. “She’s more the tea and antiques kind.”

“Hey,” he replied with a hint of reproach. “Fly-fishing is for all kinds.”

“You’re absolutely right. Who would have thought that I would ever be fishing?”

“What did you do, before?”

She wondered what
before
alluded to. Before she came to the cabin? Before cancer? In a sudden flash of insight as searing as the bolt of lightning moments before, she realized that
before
, a storm had rolled over her life in the form of cancer, scattering the water, shredding bits of leaves, and causing beasts and birds to huddle before moving on. And her time at the cabin was like being here in the Jeep, snug in a safe place while the storm passed. But what was coming
after
? That remained to be seen.

Stuart sat across from her, waiting patiently for her answer. He was a good listener, she realized. He didn’t feel the need to fire off his own opinions but allowed her the time to fully express herself. It was that quality that made him a good guide.

“I was in public relations,” she replied. As she said the words, that life she’d led in Charleston seemed ages ago. She smiled to herself and thought,
Before
. “My job was to manage the talent for an arts festival. It was what one might call a glamour job, but as with all such things, in reality it was still a lot of work. I think I was good at it. But after the cancer, well, let’s just say it was easier for everyone if I left.”

He was not naïve and let that matter drop. “What will you do next?”

She lifted her shoulders to say,
Who knows?
“That’s part of the reason I’m up here. To figure all that out.”

Stuart looked out the window at the sky. The rain was now a light drizzle and the sky was clearing up. Shafts of sunlight lit up the river.

“We should go. You need to get out of those wet clothes.”

Mia was sorry to leave but nodded her head in accord.

He put the key in the ignition but before firing the engine, he turned to her, his eyes searching.

“What about a husband?”

She hesitated, unwilling to muddy the water by bringing Charles between them. She’d placed him in the
before
category. Stuart…she decided to place him in the
after
phase of her life.

“Divorced,” she replied, meaning it, but stunned by the finality of her word.

Stuart didn’t comment. He faced the road and fired the engine. The Jeep sprang to life and like an old dog it took off across the field, shaking the rain off its back as it headed for home.

The small, gold bell over the door at Shaffer’s chimed when Mia walked in. The heady scent of dark, rich coffee and freshly baked pastries assailed her. Like Pavlov’s dog, her mouth started salivating.

“Mornin’, Mia!” Becky called out in her cheery voice from behind the glass counter. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion but she looked healthy and in good spirits.

It was a busy morning at the bakery. A young woman wearing a pink uniform like Becky’s was behind the counter making coffee in the shiny, steel industrial machine. Becky must have hired some help, she thought, and was glad for it. The brunette was buxom and had twinkling blue eyes. She turned to smile in welcome and Mia immediately saw the family resemblance.

Becky looked at the girl with pride pouring out of her pores. “Meet my daughter, Katherine. She’s going to help me out for the rest of the summer, maybe even take over, if I can convince her. We’ll see.”

“You’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill,” Mia told her.

“Don’t I know it,” Katherine called back before returning to her job.

The air conditioner was struggling against the residual heat of ovens and a half dozen patrons eating at the small tables, each graced with pink flowers in small bud vases. The chalkboard in the front of the store announced cinnamon buns as the special of the day and the front of the glass cabinet was filled with them, each topped with glazed icing.

“Hey, did you see the
Gazette
today?” Becky asked, eager for Mia’s response. “They got an article written by Kate Watkins!”

Mia came to an abrupt stop. “It’s out already?” She was stunned at the speed at which Nada had printed it. They’d discussed the idea only a week ago. She felt her stomach clench at the thought that Kate’s name would be bandied about in every conversation in town that day. And yet she couldn’t wait to see the article.