Just Over The Mountain (8 page)

Birdie knocked on the bedroom door, but she didn’t wait. She opened it. They were each lying on a twin bed, stockinged feet on the walls, tossing a ball back and forth to each other. The room was a disaster. Their clothes, both clean and dirty, were all over the floor. “Hey!” they said in unison, affronted at being disturbed.

“Did you turn off my oven?” she asked icily.

Brent sat up and shrugged. “It was getting hot in there and we were eating.”

“I see,” she said. “Now it will be two hours longer before we can have Sunday dinner.”

Brad sat up and took his turn at a shrug. “I ain’t hungry.”

Birdie closed the door and thought, briefly, about telling her only son to take her only two grandsons to a hotel.

The Presbyterian church hadn’t held services since the early-summer departure of the last minister, Jonathan Wickham, so June and Elmer had been playing hooky on Sunday mornings. They made a
couple of treks to other churches in neighboring towns, but hadn’t found a service that filled the bill for them.

But that fact hadn’t stopped their Sunday meals together. It just changed the routine slightly. Elmer used to put the pot roast and vegetables in the oven before church and they’d take it out, slightly overcooked and dry, after services. Aunt Myrna joined them most of the time, unless she had a better offer.

Staying home from church allowed Elmer to put the roast in and keep a closer eye on it, adding water when the meat began to dry out. His Sunday meals had improved measurably since, and he was usually finishing the crossword puzzle in ink before June and Sadie arrived. So even though there was a new pastor in town and church had started up again, Elmer and June stuck to their new routine for the time being, sleeping in a little later and enjoying moist and delicious roast-beef dinner.

The three Hudsons met around one. Elmer would have a glass of red wine—sometimes June would join him—and Myrna would have her martini. Sunday was the only day she had it before five, and she confessed to looking forward to the drink all week. They had dinner by two, dessert and coffee by two-thirty, and Myrna was asleep in the big chair by the window by three. It was just as well, Elmer was fond of saying, because he wouldn’t let her drive home in that big old Caddy till she worked off her martini.

That Sunday found June and Elmer settled in rockers on the front porch, their coffee cups on the table
between them, Sadie at June’s feet. June noticed the window ajar about six inches, Myrna not far away on the other side, her head tipped back and her mouth open slightly. She snored softly. “She can’t hear me, can she?” she asked her dad, her voice lowered.

“She appears pretty well out. Why? You have gossip?”

“I don’t know if it’s gossip or a medical issue. Maybe both. Last night I attended Daniel Culley. He was having chest pains. He was in Sarah Kelleher’s bed.”

Elmer’s eyes widened and sparkled in anticipation. “Truly?”

“When the decision was made to take him to the hospital, he told Sarah to call Blythe and tell her. And you should have heard the way Sarah talked to her, telling her she’d been given plenty of time to accept the situation, that she’d have to come around sooner or later and the sooner the better so the three of them could have a relationship. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“Whoa. That’s direct, now, ain’t it.”

“I admit, I was in a state of shock.”

Elmer tsked and shook his head. “Hard to imagine Sarah being like that. She’s so sweet. So— What’s the word?”

“Like Mother Earth. I pulled her aside at the hospital and said I thought it was completely understandable that Blythe would be upset. Sarah said things were not as they appeared, that she’d never steal another woman’s husband, even though it appears another woman’s husband was certainly in her bed.” June went
on to recap the conversation she’d had with Sarah as best she could recall it.

“Neither Daniel nor Sarah seemed in any way embarrassed,” June went on. “They act as though Blythe’s stubbornness is getting to be a bit drawn out.” She shook her head. “Their relationship has been going on for two years and they’re getting tired of waiting for Blythe to accept it. She said there were special circumstances. And she’s worried about Blythe. She asked me to speak to her.”

“And say what?”

“That’s my second question. My first question is, why would I get myself involved? She’s not my patient. Neither is Daniel, really. I just gave him emergency care and transport and put him in the hands of a staff doctor.”

“You’re certainly not obligated.”

“But what if she’s in trouble, Dad? What if she’s badly depressed or despondent because of this affair her husband is having?”

“I guess we know why he got his butt filled with buckshot, don’t we?”

“What if next time she shoots him in the head? Or hurts Sarah?”

“Maybe the person you should talk to about this is Tom. If you think this could lead to some crime, some danger.”

June groaned and let her head fall into her hands. “Oh God, how do people get themselves into messes like this? What in the world sort of special circumstances could Sarah be talking about?”

“Maybe they’re not married,” Myrna said from the living room. They both cast startled looks through the living-room window. “Blythe and Daniel. Maybe they’re not legally married. For whatever reason.”

“Myrna! I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. But it sounds like I woke up just in time!”

The following Monday morning the Stones came to work in separate vehicles. June didn’t think anything of it. It made sense, especially for those days when John would take the ambulance home after clinic and Susan went to the Dicksons to pick up Sydney. Any working couple who didn’t want to be stuck waiting around for each other would do the same.

A couple of hours later when Susan said, “You have Carl Bertrand in room two, Doctor,” June thought, Hmm. Was that a tad stiff?

Just before lunch, when there were no patients waiting, John walked down to the Flower Shoppe and purchased a bouquet for Susan. Jessie fairly gushed at the romantic gesture. Susan placed the flowers on Jessie’s desk and left them there, but did not seem to warm up to John.

June was the last one to leave the clinic at about 6:00 p.m., and as she passed the trash can, there were the flowers. “Ho boy,” she muttered to herself. She was afraid their falling-out might have something to do with the clinic job, but she wasn’t about to ask. There were areas of life in which she was a coward. All these troubles between husbands and wives was underscor
ing her timidity toward involving herself in others’ marital problems. What the heck, she wasn’t married! What did she know about it?

Tuesday passed much the same. Susan was as cheerful and efficient as ever, but John was a little irritable. Susan didn’t go out of her way to smooth things over. When John went to the hospital on rounds, June couldn’t contain her curiosity a moment longer. She asked, “Is everything all right between you and John?”

“Growing pains,” Susan said, forcing a smile. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

That pretty much told her to butt out, so she whispered to Jessie when the Stones were out of earshot, “Do you have any idea what they’re squabbling about?”

“Not exactly,” Jessie said. “But I did hear Susan tell him she had invested enough of her life into his career and constant comfort.”

“Oops. This is big. We’d better tread softly.”

On Tuesday night, over meat loaf, she described the frigid air in the clinic to her dad. Elmer listened without interjecting much comment—a rarity for him. When June had run out of things to add, he said, “You know, I always wondered how your mother did it.”

“Did what?”

“Remained in service to others all her life.”

“Do you think that’s how she saw her life, Dad? Because that would be sad. I’d hate to think she wasn’t entirely happy.”

“Marilyn insisted she was happy. But I was aware of how many sacrifices she made over the years, how
many town parties she went to alone, how many dinners went cold and how many nights she lay awake and worried while I went out on house calls in all sorts of weather. I didn’t have to do many things for your mother, but she did everything for me.”

“It was all about you,” June said, understanding something about her parents for the very first time.

“She told me she envied my love of medicine. She said she wished she had some special talent, something she was driven to pursue, but she claimed to be content with her family, her home, her garden, her friends. Of course, that was Marilyn’s special talent and I wish I’d shown more respect for that. We come to some realizations too late.”

“Mom never felt less than respected, Dad. I know that for sure.”

“I hope that’s right, June. Now, apparently, Susan Stone has decided it’s time to get back to her nursing, and you told me she’s a natural.”

“Dad, she’s remarkable. In just a couple of weeks she had the clinic in the palm of her hand.”

“Think about it, June,” Elmer said. “Think about what Susan has done to support John, starting back when his ex-wife was harassing them, moving away from her family so he could do another residency—and that while expecting their child—and eventually moving here to a small town where she knew no one. She’s done everything John’s way for a long time, and no doubt spent many evenings and weekends alone while he worked. Doesn’t it sound as though Susan
wants to take her turn?” He took another bite of his dinner. “Who knows what brought something like this to the front page.”

June gulped. “I bet you can thank me for that. I let her know that I’d love to have her in the clinic full-time. John must be ready to clobber me.”

Elmer smiled. “John is forty years old. It’s high time he learned the facts of life.”

For some reason, it was that statement that caused June to speak up about something she’d fully intended to hold quiet on. “Dad, Chris Forrest came to the clinic after hours to see me.” Elmer merely lifted his eyebrows so they rose above his glasses. “He wanted to explain, apologize and make amends.”

Elmer looked down, said nothing and began scraping the last of the mashed potatoes off his already clean plate. Elmer had never held much forgiveness in his heart for what Chris Forrest had done to his daughter.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel sorry for him,” June said. “But he did say something that had never occurred to me. He said I hadn’t told him I’d changed my major to premed. He said
you
told him, and added that I’d be in school for many more years than originally planned.”

Elmer lifted his eyes to June’s, but he remained quiet.

“He said that with school being the struggle it was, with me making a decision like medicine without even telling him…well, I guess he felt he couldn’t measure up. And he felt I had abandoned him.”

Elmer made a face and shook his head in apparent disgust.

“Well, you can appreciate how that could happen,” June continued. “We were young, but we
were
talking about getting married. And then I took a fork in the road without even calling or writing to him about it. I changed all my plans, so he changed all of his. And, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but he claims to have felt terrible about it ever since.”

Elmer laid his fork down next to his plate and stared hard at his daughter for a long-drawn-out moment. “There seems to be at least one thing about Chris Forrest you’ve forgotten,” he finally said. “Most of the time he’s full of shit.”

T
he last patient of the morning had left the clinic and June fancied something sweet; maybe a little trip to the bakery would satisfy. As she was leaving the clinic she almost tripped over Julianna and Susan in deep conversation right outside the door. They hushed and bolted apart guiltily.

“Uh-oh,” June said. “What are you two up to?”

“Come with us and find out. Unless you’re chicken,” Susan invited.

Every instinct told June to be chicken this once, but these two intrigued her. And if she was honest, she was a little bit jealous of their fast-and-firm camaraderie. She had good friends, sure, but there was something very special about the bond between the two women. It made you want to play.

“Chicken?” June asked. “Who you calling chicken?”

“We’re going to see the new preacher,” Julianna said. “To tell him what we did to the old preacher.”

June gulped. “Why? Why not leave well enough alone?”

“I can think of about fifteen hundred reasons,” Susan said, citing the approximate population of Grace Valley.

“I brought a cake,” Julianna said. “That should make it go down easier.”

They found the pastor in his office, sitting on the floor, sorting through a mound of papers. The place was in terrible disarray, the new pastor’s things tossed into a room left a mess by the previous pastor. He looked up to see three women standing there, looking down at him, and at first it made him frown. Then he smiled cautiously. “Has the women’s circle come to help?”

“Um, well…if a cake helps, then we have,” Julianna said.

“Actually, Pastor, we were hoping you’d have a minute to talk,” Susan said. Harry Shipton got clumsily to his feet, accidentally knocked a few folders from a nearby chair and watched helplessly as even more papers fanned out over the floor. He bent his long legs to stretch, clearly stiff from having been cross-legged on the floor for a while. He was lanky, but had a handsome face, younger than his forty-something age.

“We met a week or so ago,” she said, sticking out her hand to renew the introduction. “Susan Stone. And my boss and friend, June Hudson.” He nodded to June. “And the baker is Julianna Dickson.”

“How do you do,” he said. He peeked at the cake and his warm smile became a grin. “I don’t keep a very nutritious diet. Cake is perfect.”

“We should get this over with, Pastor,” Susan said. “We have something to tell you.”

The minister half sat, half leaned upon his cluttered desk, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Shoot.”

“I don’t know how much you know about our last minister…”

“That would be Jonathan Wickham?” he offered.

“The same,” Susan said. “Well, we want you to hear it from us. We ran him off. Julianna and I. June wasn’t really in on it till the end.”

“But I didn’t disapprove,” June said. “And when it came down to it, I participated. Besides, he wasn’t really run off. He was boycotted.”

Harry tilted his head, listening, but said nothing.

“Jonathan was a notorious flirt. An awful womanizer. He was always making passes. And at married women, too,” Julianna said.

“Driving his wife crazy,” Susan added. “Offending the entire congregation, except for the old men in town. They just laughed at him, which made it worse.”

“We had a lot going on in town at the time that wasn’t real woman-friendly,” June said. “One young pregnant woman was battered into an early and critical childbirth by her husband. Another woman, the mother of five, barely escaped a life of terrible abuse when she…Well…” she said in frustration, “when she whacked her abusive husband over the head with a shovel and killed him.”

Harry winced. “What happened to her?”

“Oh, she was acquitted,” Susan said quickly.

“She works part-time as a waitress at the café.
You’ll run into her soon if you haven’t already. Her name is Leah.”

“Acquitted?” he asked.

“Acquitted,” the three women said in unison.

“The climate wasn’t real patient toward men who didn’t respect women. So…”

“So…we tried talking to him,” Susan said. “Julianna and I and another young mother he’d made passes at, but he blew us off. Clearly he wasn’t interested in better manners.”

“He had an affair with a very vulnerable young woman,” Julianna said. Then, remembering that Harry Shipton was single, hurriedly added, “No one here stands in judgment of romance, Pastor,” which caused Harry to smile, though weakly. “But Pastor Wickham was clearly on the prowl.”

“He took such advantage, whenever he could!” Susan added.

“We weren’t real sure what to do,” Julianna said. “We could have written letters to the
Signet,
in hopes of having him removed…”

“But we were in search of a bigger solution than having his hands slapped. We wanted Pastor Wickham to understand that he was in our church, not that we were in his.” Susan clamped her mouth shut suddenly, put a hand over her lips and began to flush. “I mean…”

“That’s what she meant,” June said, before Susan could try to wiggle out of that statement. “And it turned out that most of the congregation agreed, because at the
first suggestion of a boycott, no one went to church, and Jonathan and his family left us.”

“He had become such a problem for the women of this church,” Susan said. “He was always asking young married women if they’d like a little private counseling, that sort of thing.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s bold for a single minister, much less—”

“We wanted to tell you ourselves, before you heard it from someone else,” Julianna said. “We’re not really a bunch of hardheaded, bossy women.”

“Even if we are, we’re not mean-spirited,” Susan said, shaking her head.

“It’s been said that we’re dangerous to cross, but that’s such an overstatement,” Julianna put in. “I mean, we’re the most reasonable women in town! Don’t you think, June?”

June nodded. “Absolutely. Extraordinarily reasonable.”

“So if you hear rumors, gossip about us… Well, if you could just not believe the worst, or maybe even—” Susan said.

“Ask us! Yes, ask us to clarify before you start thinking we’re the scariest women in the whole world,” Julianna continued.

“Honestly, we want you to enjoy your stay here. I mean, you’re a single man, right? No reason for you to be afraid to ask a woman for a date, based on what you’ve heard about the women—” Susan stopped talking as she noticed Harry’s frown. “You know what I mean.”

Harry straightened, standing from his perch on the desk. A pile of books seemed to topple from the surface for no apparent reason. It was almost as though things fell or scattered just because he was near. “You must have had your hands full,” he said to them.

Julianna sighed deeply. Susan shook her head and said, “You don’t know the half.”

“Well, not to worry. I’m not very good with the ladies,” he said. “I have an ex-wife who will be happy to attest to that.”

“But Pastor Shipton, we don’t mean
you
shouldn’t flirt or date or—”

He held up a hand. “Please. Harry.”

“Fine, Harry. By all means, you’re a single man. But we’d appreciate it if you’d—”

“I’ll try not to force you into a repeat performance of the boycott,” he said in good humor.

“We could even tell you who some of the single women in your congregation are,” Julianna offered hopefully.

“I imagine I’ll run into the single women in church one way or another, but I hear there’s a fantastic poker game in town. Any possibility I could get in on that?” He rubbed his chin. “Might be a safer bet.”

As the last days of summer gave way to fall, June saw Harry Shipton at the café from time to time, visiting with the locals and getting on just fine. He’d found the poker table for himself—Elmer, Myrna, Sam Cussler, Burt Crandall and Judge Forrest. They’d continued to meet at the café because of the commotion at
Judge’s house, but then Harry stepped in and offered the parsonage for their weekly game.

“The parsonage, huh?” Elmer said. “You think that’d be all right? Gambling and all, right under God’s roof?”

“As long as you tithe, I don’t think anyone will make a fuss.”

“Pastor, I think you’re going to fit in right well around here,” Myrna informed him.

As the days passed, it became even more difficult for June to guess what was going on with the Stones. One day she’d swear they were all made up, the next day she’d feel the chill in the air. She’d learned, through the local grapevine, that the whole thing had started at a card game when John and Mike lost their heads, started joking around and ended up insulting their wives. Oh, they probably hadn’t meant to be insulting, but they hadn’t meant to be stupid either, and now the two of them were in serious hot water. Jessie had whispered to June, “Every time John opens his mouth to apologize, he manages to say something to make things worse.”

At the Dickson house, rumor had it that Mike had tried to explain to his mother why Julianna was so upset with him. June heard it from her dad, about fifth or sixth hand, but Mike had said something like, “You know what I was saying, Mom, that Julianna doesn’t want to work, she wants to take care of me and the kids and the house.” Grandma Dickson, who had worked hard all her life in the aforementioned—or would that be the
not
mentioned?—career field, went pale and wondered
how she had failed to train up her son better than she had. She was now also miffed. And the one thing you want to be careful about is not to piss off the help. Now those two men were paying dearly. But the women seemed to be holding up just fine.

School had started, the temperature dropped and the valley settled into a favorite time of year. The Grace Valley High School football team, loaded with the sons of loggers, fishermen, farmers and vintners, hardworking and very physical men, always made a good showing. The town supported the team well, and not just the parents of high-school students. The bleachers were full for every game.

Another hallmark of fall would be the harvest festival, the celebration of the coloring of the leaves. Local merchants and organizations swung into gear for a town party that would last a weekend and draw vendors and visitors from near and far. Even June’s quilting circle, the Graceful Quilters, would auction a specialty quilt, one in which landmark buildings—houses, barns, churches, et cetera—were sewn into the squares. It was a quilt of Grace Valley.

On one particularly beautiful, crisp fall day, June received a call at the clinic from Ursula Toopeek. “Are you going to quilting Thursday night?” she asked.

“Oh gee,” June hedged. “I’m on call, so it’s iffy.”

“Listen, June, get out of being on call and go to quilting. Birdie thinks you’re avoiding her because Chris and the boys are staying there, and you can’t allow that. She’s not very young and she’s one of your very best friends.”

“I haven’t been avoiding her!”

“Are you sure?”

No, she wasn’t, but she said, “Of course not! There’s been a lot going on.”

“There’s always a lot going on. He’s been back, what…four weeks or more? You can’t avoid him forever.”

“Really, I’ve been busy. And besides, I’m not avoiding Chris. I’ve actually seen him and talked to him a couple of times.” This was quite a stretch. Chris had seen her slop ketchup and mustard on her shirt and visited her at the clinic once. Those were the only two times they’d spoken. She’d seen him, that was the truth. His eyes had twinkled and he’d winked as though they had a secret, and she hated that.

In the weeks that Chris had been back, June had found excuses not only to miss the quilting circle, but also church, which the Forrests attended, and football games. It wasn’t done consciously; it was just a kind of withdrawal. If Chris had been back four weeks, then Jim had been gone longer. Chris was lurking, ever present, suggesting with his sparkling eyes that they could “start over,” while Jim, far away and working undercover, had not even found the opportunity to phone.

“Come Thursday night,” Ursula insisted now. “Trade on-call with John. He doesn’t have anyone at home who’ll talk to him anyway.”

This made June laugh. “I guess that little spat is all over town.”

“Well,” Ursula said, “John’s been buying lots of flowers lately.”

June knew she had to do it—resume her quilting with the circle. It had always been one of the most relaxing and pleasurable parts of her week. And June, a master of sutures, was an excellent stitcher. But quilting was less about stitching and more about coming together. There, with their hands joined by the fabric, these six women gave each other spiritual grounding. They were dear friends, each one. There was Ursula Toopeek and Tom’s mother, Philana, Birdie Forrest, Corsica Rios, Deputy Ricky Rios’s mother, and Jessie from the clinic. When she added together the number of years she’d been friends with each one, it was over a hundred years of friendship.

She could not stay away on account of some man.

Ursula had brought to mind the Flower Shoppe, and a call June had been meaning to make. Justine Cussler, the shop’s owner was both a patient and a friend. Despite the age difference, Sam and Justine made a good-looking couple. Sam was a handsome and fit gentleman with white hair, a tanned face, blue eyes so young and bright they looked as though they might crack, and a keen sense of humor. Six months ago Justine had been a morose young spinster with a sour attitude, but Sam had brought her to life and she glowed with happiness.

There was but one pall on their union—John had been forced to remove a malignant ovarian tumor. Fortunately he caught the cancer early and Justine’s chance for survival from this volatile disease was good. John had even managed to salvage the other ovary, at
Justine’s insistence. Justine was determined to have a baby. John and June had tabled the discussion as to whether that was such a good idea or not because Justine faced a year of chemotherapy before she could even consider a future pregnancy.

The bell on the flower shop’s door jingled when June walked in, and Justine came from the back. “Well, stranger. I haven’t seen you in a while,” the younger woman said.

June’s immediate reaction was Uh-oh. Justine’s skin was pale and she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked to have lost a few pounds. It was hard to tell if her hair was thinning because she had it pulled severely back. “I’ve been meaning to drop in on you for weeks. Are you getting ready for the fall festival?”