The Keeping (20 page)

*****

Mel spent the next
few days in what she dubbed ‘interview limbo’ while waiting for
Ryne to make his final decision. It irked her to wait, but she
sensed this was some sort of test. If she pushed too hard, he’d
refuse, just to put her in her place. And so, with unaccustomed
patience, she waited.

Her days fell into
a lazy pattern. She’d sleep in, drive to town, and spend the
morning at the Gazette where Josh and Beth were allowing her to
hook up her laptop to their internet connection. The hoped-for
phone line connection at the cabin had yet to materialize and Mel
strongly suspected the phone company just didn’t want to be
bothered travelling all the way to Stump River for one service
call. Still, the absence of a phone at the cabin had one benefit;
Aldrich couldn’t contact her.

Phoning the lawyer
was the part of the day she most dreaded. Around noon, she’d leave
the Gazette’s offices and walk around Stump River—which didn’t take
long, but helped fill up her day—and then head to the diner to
place the dreaded call to Aldrich.

The calls followed
a predictable path. He’d ask about her progress, she’d report she
was still waiting, the lawyer would make some condescending
comment, and the conversation would be over. It was barely five
minutes, but felt much longer and left her feeling deflated.

In happy contrast,
once she’d done her duty, she rewarded herself by having coffee and
conversation with Ruth, Al, and Lucy.

A running joke had
developed between them. Everyday she’d ask for a different type of
coffee and they’d hand her a cup of plain black. Purposely, she
made her requests more outlandish each day, enjoying their
expressions as she explained the intricacies of each variety.
Today’s lesson was on one of her favourites, a caramel macchiato
venti.

“So you see Al,
then you take freshly steamed milk, vanilla-flavored syrup, a
double shot of espresso and top it with caramel sauce. Oh, and of
course the key is to
slowly
pour in the milk to create
layers of different coloured liquid.”

The chef rubbed
his stubbly chin and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Right.” As per usual, he
was leaning against the counter, his slightly stained apron
stretched over his rounded stomach. He reached back and flipped on
the coffee maker. “One black coffee, coming up.”

Mel giggled,
loving his deadpan expression.

Ruth just shook
her head, taking a cup down off the shelf and placing it beside the
brewing beverage, ready for filling when the time came. “It beats
me that you city folk have nothing better to do than to spend your
time finding ways to mess up a perfectly good cup of java.”

“Ah, Ruth,” Mel
teased. “You haven’t lived until you experience drinking coffee
properly prepared by a barista.”

Straightening her
uniform on her boney frame, Ruth sniffed, but patted Mel’s
shoulder. “I’ll survive just fine, girly, don’t you worry. The men
on my soap operas give me a better jolt than caffeine any day.”

Lucy wandered over
just then, and Mel settled into her favourite seat for a bit of
gossip with the friendly waitress, all the while keeping a watchful
eye on Miller’s service station in case Ryne should emerge. He did
occasionally, to fill gas tanks, wash wind shields and check oil,
but never to come across the street and agree to an interview.

Mel was positive
Ryne knew she was there. A couple of times, she even thought she
caught him glancing her way, but he always went back inside,
leaving her fuming and irritably drumming her fingers on the
countertop.

The time spent at
the diner wasn’t a total waste, however. Ruth and Al enjoyed
regaling her with tales of small town life. Mel was actually
writing some of the amusing anecdotes down, toying with the idea of
composing a series of articles about the place.

Lucy was all for
the idea when she heard about it. She’d lean against the counter, a
pot of coffee in one hand to give the impression that she was
working, while conspiratorially whispering tidbits of scandalous
yet amusing information on the various patrons of Ruth’s Diner
andThe Broken Antler. Mel was surprised that for a town where
nothing seemed to happen, so much actually took place. It was
amazing, the activities that occurred at the bar and behind closed
doors.

Despite her
enjoyment of the coffee, company, and conversation, Mel was fed up
waiting for Ryne. It was already Friday and she’d made absolutely
no progress with regards to her real ‘mission,’ which was learning
about Ryne Taylor.

“If he doesn’t
come over and talk to me today, I’m going to march across the
street and strangle him,” Mel confided to Lucy.

“I’ll cheer while
you do it.” Lucy agreed.

“You two have a
spat or something?” Mel looked at her new friend with concern.

“Nah, we don’t
have that type of relationship—nothing to really argue over when
it’s just about good sex, you know?” She poured more coffee into
Mel’s cup. “Nope, the problem is he hasn’t been around to see me
since his birthday and he promised me a month ago, he’d stop by and
fix the leaky faucet in my kitchen.”

“Not the reliable
sort, is he?”

“What man is?”
Philosophically, Lucy shrugged and then pointed out the window.
“Hey, there goes Harley. I just love watching him cross the
street.” The two women paused their conversation to watch the dog
wait and cross at the light. Once he was on the other side, he
turned and walked up to the diner, and pawed at the door.

“What’s he doing?”
Mel queried.

“Beats me, this is
a new one.” Lucy walked to the door and opened it. “What do you
want, Harley?”

Harley walked
inside as if it was part of his daily routine, came right up to
Mel, and dropped a piece of paper in her lap. The paper was rather
wrinkled and sticky with drool.

Gingerly, Mel
picked it up, avoiding the worst of the slobber. There was a
message addressed to her and despite the ink smearing a bit from
the dog’s saliva, it was still quite readable. “It’s from Ryne! He
says he wants to talk to me about terms. I should be at his house
at noon tomorrow. The gate will be open and he’ll provide lunch.”
She happily clenched the soggy note in her hand. Finally something
was happening. “This is great news. Thanks, Harley!”

The dog woofed and
sauntered out of the diner, heading back towards the traffic light.
Mel glanced across the street. Ryne was standing by the door of the
Service Station, his arms folded. Despite the distance, they
managed to make eye-contact. He nodded and went back inside,
ruffling Harley’s fur as the dog returned from his mission.

“Well, that’s good
news for you, isn’t it Mel?” Lucy grinned at her. “And when you see
him, remind him about my leaking faucet, will you?”

Mel nodded,
rereading the note and wondering what the ‘terms’ might entail. It
was going to be just a straightforward interview about his life,
nothing that special. Did he want a cut if she sold it to a
magazine? That could be tricky, since Mr. Greyson was paying her.
She’d have to ask Aldrich about that.

Finishing her
coffee, she thanked her friends and headed back towards the
Gazette. She was going to e-mail Aldrich about this latest
development and ask his advice about Ryne’s possible terms. Mel
knew that Aldrich would be peeved about the e-mail, having made it
plain that he preferred phone conversations, probably so he could
‘read’ the speaker’s tone of voice. Oh, well. Too bad for him.
She’d suffered through talking to him once today. He’d have to make
some concessions to modern technology.

*****

Noon the next day
found Mel driving down the road that led to Ryne’s house. She’d
stopped in town to call Aldrich. He’d emailed her back yesterday,
his message terse and simple; call me. And so she did. While he’d
tried to hide it, she was sure Aldrich hadn’t been expecting her to
get an interview with Ryne and it pleased her no end to prove the
man wrong. When she’d mentioned Ryne setting terms, Aldrich was
adamant that no mention of his client should occur.

Aldrich was a
clever sort, she had to admit. He suggested that if Ryne questioned
what publication she was submitting the article to, she could claim
it was a school assignment that she was completing for extra marks
and that only a professor would be reading it. Mel agreed the story
was a good one, but felt a bit guilty about the fact that she
couldn’t be upfront with the photographer.

She firmly
squashed her misgivings as she approached Ryne’s home. Just as he
promised, the gate was open. Slowing down, she made the turn and
looked around, surprised that he’d just leave it open like that
when he was so obsessive about his privacy. Anybody could have just
driven in.

Shrugging, she
decided it wasn’t any concern of hers. All that mattered was that
she didn’t have to climb over the top of the darn thing and she was
safely in her vehicle, where no wolves could get at her.

The drive from the
main road to his house was a bit eerie. She kept recalling her
earlier visit and the wolves that had chased her. Obsessively, she
peered into the woods on either side for signs that they were
watching her. Of course, there was nothing to see, but acre upon
acre of forest.

It was turning
into a cloudy, dreary kind of a day with dark clouds rolling across
the sky and the threat of rain evident in the dampness of the air.
As she travelled deeper onto the property, the trees blocked even
more of the light and the twisting, turning driveway began to seem
as if it would never end. A slight tinge of panic was building
inside of her. When she crossed a little bridge, Mel started to
wonder if she might be lost. She didn’t recall going over a stream
the previous day.

She slowed her
pace, steering around several potholes along the way. The spring
thaw was making a mess of the driveway, similar to the road she’d
driven on to get to Stump River. Taking her time, she decided being
a few minutes late was preferable to explaining to the rental
company why the vehicle’s suspension was messed up. Finally, after
what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the trees began to
thin and a house came into view. She brought the car to a stop and
put it in park, staring at the photographer’s home with a feeling
of dread.

Chapter
15

Mel sat in her car
and stared at the house. The sidewalk was cracked and grass was
popping up between the broken cement slabs. The lawn was filled
with weeds and the remnants of flower beds could barely be
discerned among a tangle of old vines and leaves. A lone tree stood
to the right of the building. Its branches stretched out like
greedy hands and a hole in the trunk reminded her of a gaping
mouth.

“Perfect for
Halloween,” she muttered.

Averting her gaze
from the creepy tree, she began to study the actual house. It was
massive and stood out like something from a horror flick, complete
with a dark stormy sky and a spooky forest in the background. Two
stories high, not including the attic, its wooden siding was a
weathered grey where it wasn’t hidden by ivy vines that seemed to
be trying to slowly choke the entire building.

Over the front
porch there was a rickety looking balcony, access being provided by
a set of French glass doors complete with cracked glass. Extending
from either side of the main part of the house were two large wings
of rooms, each with eight windows that seemed to stare blankly and
bleakly back at her. Mel couldn’t even begin to speculate how many
rooms the house might contain.

The slate roof
appeared to be new and sported a widow’s walk along the top
surrounded by a wrought iron railing. Mel could almost picture some
tragic heroine pacing back and forth, wringing her hands in despair
before throwing herself to the ground in a suicide attempt.

The style
was...well... Mel wasn’t sure. It appeared as if some Victorian
architect had taken bits and pieces from several designs and
centuries and then thrown them all together. It wasn’t a pretty
house; a more apt description would be 'uniquely interesting and in
definite need of repair.' Obviously, Ryne and his friends were
working hard to fix the place up, hence the new roof, but there was
still a long way to go.

Stepping out of
her car, Mel stared at the structure, craning her head back as she
walked towards the front door. On her previous visit she’d been
rather disoriented and hadn’t paid much attention to her
surroundings, but now she was taking in every single feature. Two
sets of long thin windows flanked the front door and she was
surprised to see that there was a stained glass panel over the top
of the entrance. The steps were new and the front door had been
refinished. She took a moment to admire the carved surface before
raising her hand to knock.

Just as she was
bringing her fist down, the door swung open and she suddenly found
her hand held firmly in Ryne’s.

“Trying to hit me
already?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

“No, that comes
later, after the fifth time you annoy me. Right now, I’m just
knocking on your door, but if you insist on opening it when my fist
is up...well, I can’t be held responsible now, can I?” Mel smiled
with fake sweetness, while trying to retrieve her hand from his
grip. He didn’t let go; somehow she’d known that he wouldn’t.
Instead he used his hold to pull her inside.

“Good. I thought
we’d save that rough stuff until later, once we’re better
acquainted.” He leered at her.

Mel bit back the
retort that sprang to her lips. Sternly reminding herself that she
was here for an interview and needed to be professional, she forced
a smile instead. “I was pleased to get your message and I’m sure,
whatever your terms might be, we can come to some form of
satisfactory arrangement.”