Trouble's Brewing (25 page)
Clay vacillated between keeping the photograph and throwing it in the trash. At no time did he do to it, however, what Doreen had done to her daughter, though he wanted to. More than anything he wanted to lay it flat in the palm of his hand and crush it like an autumn leaf left on the ground too long.
He finally chose to lay it on the table next to Woodward and Bernstein. “So, what do you think, boys? What should I do with this? Open an old wound in hopes that Donna will fall into my arms again or …”
The thought of Donna wrapped in his embrace hadn’t come to him consciously. When it slipped out of his mouth, he was pleasantly surprised by both the thought and the memory. He picked up the photograph again and grinned.
The gerbils scurried about the cage as though a storm were brewing, blowing up the waters of Lake Dillon.
Clay picked up his cell phone to place a call to Donna’s home number, something he’d been doing a lot of lately, though she hadn’t returned any of the calls.
Just as quickly, he put the phone back in its cradle.
He’d let this rest for a while.
He could, he decided, call her about something else …
I’m so glad for a day off
, I thought, luxuriating over a second cup of coffee. Last night’s shift had been icy cold, down to two degrees with snow showers. Not much action though, except a tourist hitting a deer out on the highway to Breckenridge. Luckily no one was hurt, but the rental car was totaled.
I thought I’d never finish my paperwork. But even as I turned it in, I knew my report would provoke a call from Clay.
I thought of Clay and blushed. Had we really shared an embrace right on Main Street? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Though at the time I felt comforted and safe.
But how did Clay feel? I knew the answer to that. I’d seen the look in his eyes, and it had made me feel … heady, warm, confused. A feeling that still lingered.
Once again I’d avoided the Higher Grounds. He was surely there, waiting for me, and I wasn’t sure what I’d say. “Thanks for the hug, pal.” Or “Hey, sexy.” Or … good grief.
So I stayed home and let his messages build up on my answering machine.
“Donna, are you home?”
(BEEP)
“Donna, I’m worried about you.”
(BEEP)
“Donna, I’ve got something to show you when you think you’ve got a minute.”
(BEEP)
“Donna, want to meet me for lunch? Call me.”
(BEEP)
So far, I hadn’t responded, but I would have to talk to him sooner or later, especially now that a tourist had hit a deer. With the lack of real news around this place, Clay might run the story on the front page. He would want a quote from me.
It was almost noon when I looked out my kitchen window at Mount Paul. The weather could change in an instant, and today was no exception. The sun was shining bright, but the high winds that swept over the mountain’s fresh powder created what appeared to be a snow squall surrounding my cabin.
The phone rang, and the caller ID said “Westbrook.”
“Hello?”
Vonnie’s chipper voice asked, “Did I wake you?”
“No, no, I’ve been up for a whole half hour.”
“Oh, good, I just wanted to remind you about dinner tonight. I’m making your favorite, one-pot spaghetti.”
“With a loaf of garlic bread?”
“And my apple pie for dessert.”
“What time?”
“Five, and bring your coat, gloves, and snow boots. Fred and I want to take you out on a drive to show you something.”
“What?”
Vonnie sounded a little nervous. “You’ll just have to trust us, dear.”
When we hung up, I wondered if I should head down to the Higher Grounds for a bowl of chili, or if I should just make a baloney sandwich here at the house. Before I could decide, the phone rang again.
It was Clay, and this time I decided to pick up. “Hi, Clay.”
He sounded relieved. “Heard about the run-in with the tourist and the deer last night.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Not much else to report except for what the man who was driving said, and I quote, ‘I didn’t know the Colorado Donna Mountains had deer thingies. Someone should have warned us. The deer should at least be kept penned up at night.’”
Clay laughed. “Great line. I’ll use it in my story.” He paused for a moment. “Today’s your day off, right? Want to hang out tonight?”
“You mean like a date?”
“Just dinner. I’m worried about you.”
I put my coffee cup in the sink and rinsed it out. “I can’t. Going over to Vonnie’s.”
“Vonnie’s a great cook,” Clay said. “Do you think they could set a place for one more?”
I was tempted to invite him but quickly changed my mind. Knowing Clay, he’d get Vonnie to spill the beans about David Harris, which could be his true intent in the first place. I frowned. “Ah, this is more of a … they’ve got a … thing they want to show me. This probably wouldn’t be a good time.”
“A thing? What kind of thing?”
“I don’t know. I was told to wear snow boots.”
“December nights aren’t warm enough for a barbecue in the backyard.”
“I know.” I opened the refrigerator.
“I could come along and protect you from bears. I know how you run when you see one. It was in the paper.”
“Ha-ha, very funny. Not tonight, Clay, though …”
“Another time?”
“Maybe.”
“How about meeting me for lunch?”
“Just ate,” I said, slapping a piece of baloney on wheat bread.
“Okay, well. Keep me posted about the Westbrooks’ backyard mystery. Hope it’s not a body. Wait, maybe they found that missing gold from that 1864 stagecoach robbery. We still get a few treasure hunters stopping by the paper, interviewing the staff for clues, as if we’d tell them if we knew where to look. But wouldn’t it make a great headline? ‘Westbrooks Unearth Riches in Their Own Backyard!’”
“I’ll call you if that’s the case. Talk to you later,” I said.
“Okay, but before you go, did you get my message about wanting to show you something?”
“Oh, yeah. I did. What’s up?”
“Uh-uh. You’ll have to wait and see. My turn to say good-bye. Good-bye.”
I hung up and took a bite of my sandwich and chewed slowly as I thought about Clay Whitefield and, well, my feelings for him. What were they exactly? Who knew? My so-called feelings were as muddled as my thoughts.
That night at dinner, I stowed my boots, gloves, and coat at the Westbrooks’ coatrack by their front door.
“So what’s the big mystery?” I asked. Fred and Vonnie exchanged secretive glances. I stopped in my tracks. “It’s not something bad, is it?”
Fred surprised me when he quoted what his wife had said earlier. He swiped at a few gray hairs that had strayed from covering his bald spot. “Donna, you’re just going to have to trust us.”
I should have left right then. But Fred and Vonnie, well, they were a hard pair not to trust.
The table was beautifully set with Vonnie’s favorite blue and yellow pottery. When Fred bowed his head to say the prayer, I should have realized I was getting yet another clue.
“Dear Lord, thank you for our food and the hands that prepared it. Thank you for my wife, Vonnie, whom I love with all my heart.”
I peeked and saw Vonnie smile and give Fred a light shove of her elbow into his ribs. He smiled too but kept his eyes shut. I closed my eyes again and listened as he continued. This time, his voice softened, sounding teary even. “And Lord, please be with our Donna. Let her know how much we love her and that we …”
I peeked again and saw Vonnie pat Fred’s arm, as if in warning.
“… love her. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
When I looked up, I could have sworn Vonnie was wiping at a tear. I shifted uncomfortably, then turned my attention to the big pot of spaghetti on the table. I put my napkin in my lap, and Vonnie handed me her big spaghetti-serving fork, which I twirled through the dish, heaping a lovely serving onto my plate.
I smiled and looked up. “Looks good.”
Fred was already munching on a piece of garlic bread, studying me. “Thank you,” Vonnie said a little too cheerfully.
Still, despite their strange behavior, I tried to relax.
Whatever is going on here, how bad could it be?
After the meal, Vonnie said, “We’ll have pie later, after we get back from …”
“From where?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Fred said.
“Okay. Then let me help you with the dishes,” I said, stacking the dirty plates and silverware and carrying them to the kitchen sink.
“Let them soak for a while. We’ve got to get going.”
A few minutes later, the three of us were bundling up. “I’ll drive,” Fred said. “But let’s go in Vonnie’s Taurus.”
“Okay,” I agreed, seeing as I didn’t know where we were headed anyway.
After we got in the car and pulled out of the driveway, I had a sinking feeling. What if they were setting me up to meet with Wade and the pastor? What would I do? I wouldn’t be able to peel out of the church driveway again, not without my Bronco.
I sighed in relief when we passed the church. But frowned again when we pulled into the All Saints Cemetery driveway. Well, Clay had warned me about bodies, but this? What was this?
We drove to a remote area that was lit by a spotlight. I was surprised to see Daddy’s truck. Uh-oh. It wasn’t the only vehicle there. There was a gray car I didn’t recognize. Wait, Pastor Moore’s? Yes, I thought so.
From the backseat, I said, “Fred, this is creeping me out. You have to tell me what this is.”
Fred pulled to a stop and turned to face me. “This is an intervention.” His voice suddenly cracked, and he couldn’t go on.
“Like you think I’m an alcoholic, so you’re taking me to a graveyard?”
Vonnie turned, leaning her elbow over the front seat. “No, dear, we know you’re not an alcoholic. But this is an invention nevertheless. You know, you really scared me the other day, threatening to take your life like that. Fred and I talked late into the night, and we both agreed. You’ve never had closure with the loss of your baby. And according to Wade, he needs it too.”
“What?”
There was a tap on my window, and I saw my dad’s face as he leaned down. He was wrapped in his heavy dress coat over his uniform. “Open the door,” he said. “It’s cold out here.”
I complied, and he slid into the backseat with me, where he rubbed his hands together. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“We’ve gathered here to say good-bye to your baby, Donna. Wade’s here too. He needs to do this as much as you do.”
He reached for my hand, but I hesitated. “I don’t think I can do this.”
My dad clasped his hand over mine. “Yes, you can. I’m with you, Donna. I need to do this too. If anything, do it for me. I lost my grandbaby, and it’s really starting to hit me. I need closure too.”
I slid out of the backseat and walked with my dad over a rise to where Pastor Kevin and Wade waited. We stood around a small, hand-carved wooden marker, which simply read, “Baby Gage.”
I looked up at Wade and tried to say something, but words wouldn’t come. Wade walked over and put his arm around me. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this, Donna. But we’re all worried about you. Pastor Kevin thinks this will help.”
I turned and looked at Pastor Kevin; he was bundled against the cold in a navy blue parka over dark ski pants. He wore a wool cap over his dark hair. His eyes were closed in prayer. He finally looked up and said, “Family and friends, we’re gathered here today to say a long-awaited good-bye to the baby of Wade William Gage and Donna Renee Vesey.”
Somewhere deep inside of me, I felt grief bubbling to the surface as my shoulders began to quiver. The pastor continued. “We are not here to pass blame. For we know the holy Father forgives, but it’s we who are left behind who haven’t been able to forget. This good-bye service has been deemed to be a time of closure. And it’s a time of new beginnings.” He paused, then looked at the faces of those gathered. “Who would like to say a few words?”
I was surprised when my dad walked to the little marker. He looked down at it and said, “Dear grandbaby, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, me and my foolish pride. I talked your mother into, well … and I drove her to the clinic. I didn’t realize what I was doing. And now, how I miss you. I know you’re safe in the arms of Jesus, but please know how sorry I am to have ended your life.”
I began to tremble harder. Wade gave me a squeeze as my dad wiped his eyes with his hanky, then walked back to where we were standing. Vonnie took his place.
“Dear baby, your parents have never stopped loving you. When one day we each cross over to the other side, we will at last hold you in our arms. But until then, know we miss you terribly.”
I was surprised when Wade pulled his arm away and made the journey to the marker himself. He looked so somber, so mature, unlike the drunk I sometimes had to drive home from the tavern.
“Dear baby,” he said. “I’m your father. And I’ve named you Jamie. Jamie Lee Gage. Your mother and I were going to get married. You would have had my name.
“Jamie, your mother and I were so young and so in love. Your conception may have been an accident, but your life, however brief, was a miracle.
“I’ve missed you so much. Until now, I’ve been stuck in the past. But the pastor tells me that you are with the heavenly Father, and that gives me such peace. It’s time for me to move on with my life. But I want you to know you will be in my heart forever. Until we meet again, with Jesus.”
The pastor looked at Fred, and Fred shook his head. Then Pastor Kevin looked at me. “Donna, do you have anything you want to say?”
How had it gotten so cold? I looked around the tiny circle of those who loved me and saw the hope in their eyes. Vonnie leaned over and gave me a hug. “Go on, now,” she said. “Speak your piece. It’s time.”
I nodded and took shaky steps to the marker. I didn’t know what to say. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jamie. I’m so sorry.”
That’s when the shaking returned, robbing me of my ability to stand. I sank to my knees. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Behind me, I could hear someone take a step toward me, but Pastor Kevin said, “Let her be. Let her get it all out.”
I cried until there were no tears left. When my shoulders quit shaking, Wade knelt down and wrapped me in his arms as I leaned into him. Finally, he gave me his hand and helped me stand. We took our places in the circle.
The pastor looked directly at me. “God forgives you, Donna. A mistake was made here. It cost you your baby’s life.”
I nodded.
“Donna,” the pastor continued, “leave your broken heart at this marker tonight, and know how much your heavenly Father loves you.” He turned to the circle. “Let’s pray. Dear Lord, please close this chapter in the lives of this family. Heal their broken hearts and give them peace.”
I leaned into Wade and wept. Peace? I’d never known peace. I wasn’t even sure how to get it, but it sounded so wonderful.
Later, back at the house, I sat on the sofa with Wade while Vonnie cut the pie. Wade said, “I’m sorry, Donna, this was the only way I thought I could get closure. And I knew you needed it too. So the pastor and Vonnie helped me organize this memorial to our baby. Are you okay with that?”
I nodded and stared at my hands, which I had clasped in my lap. My dad came over and hugged me. “We all love you, Donna.”