Dead Voices (13 page)

“Thanks, though. I’ll keep it in mind,” Elizabeth replied. She glanced toward the kitchen window, where she could hear Junia as she bustled about getting the coffee pot going. She wished Junia would hurry back out to the porch, so that she wouldn’t have to be alone with Frank; just recalling their times together made her feel as if she couldn’t trust herself alone with him. Considering everything else she had had to deal with over the past few days, she wasn’t ready for this. Actually, she wondered if she would ever be ...

“Well,” she said, casting her glance aside, “I see you haven’t managed to keep yourself out of a uniform. “ The remark was meant humorously, as if just to cut through her own nervous tension; but she saw instantly that Frank misread her.

“Let’s not get started on that, all right?” he said. The muscles in his jaw started rapidly flexing and unflexing. “What happened back then, happened.” He snorted and shook his head. “Hey, we were just kids, and we thought we knew what we were doing.”

“Oh, no — no. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, suddenly flustered. Although she hadn’t intended to remind Frank that it was his volunteering to serve in Vietnam right after high school graduation that had been the final wedge between them, she could see the old wounds reopening immediately. She didn’t like feeling as though she had to be on guard against everything she said being laced with double meaning. A silence fell between them that began to stretch out uncomfortably long.

“So, I — umm — heard you’ve gotten a divorce from Doug,” Frank said at last.

“Word travels fast.”

“Once Betty Stevenson — you remember her, don’t you?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Well, once she hears something it bums through town like a brush fire in August.” He paused a moment, searching Elizabeth’s face for a reaction, then continued, “Is it true, though, or should I do my best to squelch this particular small-town rumor?”

“Squelch away if you’d like,” Elizabeth replied somberly, “but — well, Doug and I are separated ... and I’m fairly certain we’ll be getting a divorce. We haven’t-” Her eyes began to sting, but she continued undaunted, not allowing herself to cry. “Well, you know-ever since ... Caroline —”

Frank nodded understandingly, but the ensuing silence threatened to be longer and more uncomfortable. It was all saved when Junia came bursting out onto the porch carrying a tray with cups, spoons, napkins, cream and sugar, a plate of plain doughnuts, and an urn filled with coffee. Frank stood up and pulled over the rickety table so she could put everything down and serve.

“It seems like just yesterday you two used to stop by the house and visit when you were out on a date, “ Junia said, smiling as she filled a cup and handed it to Elizabeth while Frank helped himself. She seemed about to say more, and Elizabeth was bracing herself for an embarrassingly direct question from Junia — such as, Why don’t you two go out together again? — when a burst of static came from the cruiser.

“I’m not on duty yet, but maybe I’d better check that out,” Frank said, placing his cup on the porch railing and dashing down the stairs to his cruiser. Opening the door, he reached inside and grabbed the microphone. Frank held the handset too close to his mouth for Elizabeth to overhear what the call was.

Junia, meanwhile, was casting meaningful glances back and forth between Elizabeth and Frank. Elizabeth had the distinct impression she was sizing them up to see if they still fit together as well as they had back in high school. What made her even more uncomfortable was feeling that she was thinking along those lines, too. She couldn’t help but recall all those days-and nights-they had spent together. Maybe it was true-your first love is always your best. As much as she tried to keep such thoughts at bay, she found that, even after all these years and everything she had been through, she did still find herself attracted to Frank Melrose. Was it just physical, she wondered, or was there more?

Frank replaced the microphone and walked back toward the porch. Looking up at Elizabeth and Junia over the railing, he said, “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. There’s been an accident out on Overlook Road. Thanks for the coffee, Miss Payne.”

Junia nodded.

Glancing over at Elizabeth, Frank’s eyes softened, even as she saw the sullen. hopeful glow in them. “And it was
really
good to see you again, Elizabeth,” he said. His entire demeanor communicated that he would much rather spend the afternoon with her on the porch, rekindling their friendship ... or possibly more.

“Same here,” Elizabeth replied. feeling stupidly at a loss for words.

“So, maybe I’ll see you around,” Frank said, still not wanting to leave. He started for the cruiser, but then looked back at her and said, “Oh. and keep in mind what I said about lake Hardy needing help. I’ll bet he doesn’t pay very much, probably just minimum wage, but it’d at least be something to do until you get your feet on the ground. “

Elizabeth bristled and almost asked Frank who the hell he thought he was to say she didn’t have her feet on the ground. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair. she wondered if her being at loose ends was
that
obvious?

“Yeah, maybe I will,” she said, not even sure herself if she meant, Maybe I’ll talk to lake Hardy about a job at the hardware store, or, Maybe I’ll see you around.

Frank got into his cruiser, started it up, and, after revving the engine, backed out of the driveway into the street. In a swirl of dust, he pulled onto Old County Road and was soon out of sight, heading out of town.

4.

After Frank left, Elizabeth and Junia had almost an hour to sit on the porch and further catch up with each other. The conversation skimmed around more sensitive issues, so Elizabeth never found an opportunity to press Junia further on her claim that she knew someone who could contact Caroline. Just before they went in for lunch. Elspeth woke up from her nap in her chair, feeling refreshed and alert. It bothered Elizabeth that her older aunt seemed to have no conception of the time she had been asleep; Elspeth acted as if there had been no more than a momentary lapse in the conversation when she joined Junia and Elizabeth in the kitchen for sandwiches.

Shortly after lunch, Elizabeth said goodbye to the aunts and left their house. Waving as she angled across the lawn toward the road, she forced herself to smile. The prospect of a three-mile walk home seemed fine, if only so she could clear her mind and let the morning’s revelations and experiences sink in.

... As if they could!

Seeing Frank had been both awkward and tantalizing. She couldn’t deny the warm feeling she still had for him even through the separation of years. She secretly gloried that he had been just as uncomfortable with her as she had been with him. That, at least, was one thing over which she felt she had a bit of control.

There were other things, though ... things she couldn’t accept that were definitely out of her control. Like the revelation of Uncle Jonathan’s suicide. She couldn’t imagine what might have led him to it. After she lost Caroline, she had felt as though she had some kind of reason to lose all faith and hope in life; but what could have driven Uncle Jonathan up to — and over — the edge?

Junia had offered no further information. Elizabeth had been only nine years old when her uncle had died-had killed himself. The only thing she clearly remembered was the impact the loss had on her father, mother, and aunts. She certainly had been too young for anyone to tell her the true circumstances of what had happened at the time, but then why over the years had she never even gotten a hint of the truth? Had Jonathan killed himself because of money problems, or personal relationships, or ... or what? Now that Junia had so casually let her in on this dark family secret, was it something she could talk about with her parents, or should she simply go on as before, pretending ignorance?

And there were other, darker thoughts that cast chilling shadows over her mind ...

In some crazy way that even the cops hadn’t yet figured out, could Uncle Jonathan’s suicide almost thirty years ago be connected somehow to the incident the night before last of someone digging up his body and removing his left hand?

Now that Aunt Junia had revealed the truth to her, Elizabeth actually found herself resenting her for it. She would just as soon have gone on in blissful ignorance about such long-ago family history. Maybe ignorance was bliss. She could very easily have lived the rest of her life without knowing what Uncle Jonathan had done, so why had Junia mentioned it now, after all this time? Like Aunt Elspeth. was Junia sliding into senility and had she inadvertently “spilled the beans”? Or had she done it on purpose ... and if on purpose, exactly to
what
purpose? With her more recent tragedy, Elizabeth felt she had more than her fair share of misery!

But then, who the hell ever said life was fair? she asked herself as she walked slowly along the roadside. The afternoon sun was warm on her face, but it did little to remove the gnawing chill she felt around her heart because — worst of all — what in the name of Heaven had Junia meant, that she knew someone who could contact Caroline for her?

Walking west, Elizabeth had to avert her eyes constantly to avoid the glare from the road. Several people passing by in cars and trucks honked their horns at her, as if they recognized her, but they all drove by so fast she couldn’t tell who anyone was. Why, if they recognized her, no one stopped and offered her a ride home mystified her, but she was content to walk and try to settle the emotional turmoil she was feeling. Maybe she should hike an extra ten or twenty miles.

When she realized she was in front of Hardy’s Hardware, Elizabeth slowed her pace as she cut across the parking lot toward the gray, weathered store front. Wheelbarrows, lawn mowers, and cultivators lined both sides of the door, along with an assortment of rakes, shovels, and hoes. The store windows were plastered with posters announcing the upcoming Shrine circus and various other social events. A few of the posters were well out of date.

“This is ridiculous,” Elizabeth muttered as she mounted the creaky steps and entered the store. It was just as she always remembered it from when she came in here with her father on errands; the little bell on a spring jangled when the top of the door pulled the spring down, and her nose was instantly assailed by a dusty aroma — a curious blend of old rope and wood. Like the aunts’ house, Jake Hardy hadn’t done much to “modernize” his store, in spite of the newer, fancier stores going up around town.

Do I really want to work here? Elizabeth wondered as she smiled a greeting to the young woman at the cash register. She didn’t recognize her, but that was no surprise. The woman seemed friendly enough, but there was a touch of sadness at the thought that, for her, at least, this was probably the job she would have the rest of her life — a second income just to help her family make ends meet, or a bare subsistence salary for a divorced mother.

Is that my future? Elizabeth thought, feeling a cold touch of dread. In spite of everything I’ve been through, does it all come down to my spending the rest of my life working at some menial, low-paying, no-future job?

She hesitated for a moment by the counter. The woman at the register looked at her oddly.

“May I help you?” she asked, arching her eyebrows until her eyes looked like two big O’s. Elizabeth glanced nervously around, then-almost against her will-asked, “I was wondering if Jake was in.”

The woman hooked her thumb over her shoulder toward a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “He’s out back. Lemme buzz him for you.” She reached under the counter and pressed a buzzer, which sounded at the back of the store.

“Thanks,” Elizabeth said, as she turned and started toward the door. She was halfway there when the door opened and Jake Hardy, looking older, balder, and certainly much fatter than she remembered, strode out. He was holding his hand up to his mouth and licking something from his fingers.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Betsy Payne,” he said, a smile splitting his face as he held out the hand he had just cleaned for her to shake.

“You’re the only person who still calls me that, you know,” Elizabeth said, as she mock-scowled at Jake.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Jake said. “And I must say, you do look more like an
Elizabeth
than a
Betsy
. Where are those world-famous pigtails?”

Elizabeth blushed when she remembered how lake had always teased her about her pigtails, threatening to tie them together whenever he saw her in the store or around town. “Gone,” she said. “And so is my last name. My married name is Myers.”

For a little while longer, anyway, she added mentally.

“I know that!” Jake said, chuckling as he rubbed his hands together. “I guess old habits die hard-’specially once you get to be my age. What can I get for you today? Your father need something out to the farm?”

Elizabeth shook her head and hesitated, not quite sure if she really wanted to go through with this. “Well, not really. I was — you see, I’ve moved back home, and —”

“That’s right,” Jake said, nodding. “I heard something about that from Betty Stevenson.”

“Hasn’t everyone by now?” Elizabeth said. “Anyway, I was looking for work and — well, I happened to bump into Frank Melrose today, and he said you might be looking for a little extra help. I’d be —”

“The job’s yours if you want it,” Jake said, cutting her off abruptly. “I can’t pay you more than minimum wage to start. This time of year, what with everyone planting gardens and fixing up around the house, Ester and me been working fifty ‘n’ sixty hours a week. I got a couple of high school kids working part-time, but — well, you know how kids are these days. Do you know how to run a cash register?”

“I can learn,” Elizabeth said brightly. She couldn’t help but be surprised by how fast Jake had accepted her; it made her wonder what and how much about her current situation Jake had heard. The thought crossed her mind that quite possibly she had been set up by Frank, and that Jake was offering her this job simply out of some kind of misguided feeling of charity.

“I’ll just bet you can,” Jake said. “You always were a little whippersnapper.”