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Authors: Lea Wait

BOOK: Thread and Gone
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Chapter 42
Come now let us forget our mirth
And think that we must die
What are our best delights on earth
Compared with those on high.
 
—Stitched by Sally C. Lovejoy, age ten, 1811
Josh's car wove in and around the narrow village streets.
Ethan was on his tail, siren blaring. I tried to keep up.
Other cars, drivers out for a quiet evening, pulled as far as they could to the side of the road.
Josh drove through two red lights, swerving around other cars.
He didn't slow down.
Within a few minutes we were all out on Route 1, heading north on the two-lane road.
Josh veered from one side of his lane to the other, passing cars to his right and his left.
My hands clutched my steering wheel. Why was I following them both? But I'd gotten this far. I needed to know how it would end.
I drove faster than I ever had before. But I couldn't keep up with the others. Every moment, I imagined one or all three of us crashing.
My stomach muscles lurched as trucks and cars going both north and south pulled over onto the shoulder, trying to get out of our way.
One car hit a ditch. It teetered precariously on its side before falling back onto its wheels.
Josh put his hand on his horn and held it there.
One pickup he narrowly missed ended up in a ditch, trying to get out of his way. As I passed it I hoped no one inside had been hurt.
I hoped Ethan had somehow called the guys at the local police station.
As our speed increased, and the road became curvier, the chances of the chase ending well dropped.
I almost pulled over, following the lead of other cars on the road. But my foot stayed on the accelerator.
The sun was going down. It was harder to see in the dark. I switched on my lights, focused on the road, and accelerated again.
Neither Josh nor Ethan had turned on their lights. They were driving close to ninety. Maybe faster. I didn't take my eyes off the road to look at the speedometer.
Even on this relatively straight stretch of Route 1, we were going way past the speed limit.
Way too fast
Suddenly Josh braked. His car fishtailed into the southbound lane where an RV was trying to get to the side of the road, out of his way.
That driver wasn't fast enough. The RV was wide and long. Josh and Jude crashed against its side, leaving the RV on its side off the road, caught between two trees.
Ethan braked in response. His car skidded sideways, coming to a halt across both lanes of traffic. I stomped on my brakes and barely missed hitting Ethan's car as my tires screeched in protest.
I sat, frozen, my car still shaking, as I tried to figure out what had happened.
I turned off my engine.
Ahead of us my headlights showed a small brown and white dog barking loudly and running back and forth from one side of the road to the other.
That's why Josh put on his brakes. To avoid hitting the dog.
I got out and ran to the other vehicles. Ethan was standing near where Josh's car had smashed into the RV. He was calling the scene in.
The driver of the RV was carefully crawling out of his vehicle. He looked shaken but intact. His RV wasn't.
The front of Josh's car was smashed in.
Josh and Jude were both trapped in the car.
I couldn't see either of them behind the torn, crumpled metal that had been their car.
Slivers of glass shone in the long grasses by the side of the road, caught by the RV's headlights.
Chapter 43
When I am dead and in my grave
And all my bones are rotten,
When this you see, remember me
That I may not be forgotten.
 
—Stitched by Polly Young, age eleven, 1801
The next half hour was a blur.
The fire and police departments and ambulance arrived. They had to cut Josh and Jude out of their car. By some miracle, both of them were alive, but unconscious and covered with blood. They were airlifted to Maine Medical in Portland.
I heard later that Jude's back was badly bruised, her face was cut, she'd lost several teeth, one of her arms was shattered, and both her ankles were broken.
Josh wasn't as lucky. He hadn't made it.
Ethan said he was fine. My chest was bruised by my seat belt, but that was minor.
In the luggage compartment of Josh's car the police found a duffel bag containing twenty-five thousand dollars and Josh's clothing.
He and Jude had been planning to leave Maine that night and head south.
Lenore Pendleton's emerald ring was in Jude's backpack, along with all her savings. She'd withdrawn it from the bank earlier that day.
No one knew the whole story until Jude was well enough to answer questions and her parents convinced her to cooperate.
It seemed she and Josh had heard from Rob and Mary how valuable Mary's needlepoint might be. After a few too many beers, Jude and Josh had gone to Lenore's house Wednesday night to convince her to open her safe. When Lenore hadn't agreed at once, they'd threatened her.
Then, after she'd opened the safe, Josh had killed her out of fear she'd identify them. It had been on impulse. Killing hadn't been in their plan.
They'd taken the needlepoint and the jewelry.
Then they'd panicked. What should they do? Who would buy stolen goods?
Neither of them had planned their next steps.
But they'd remembered Rob talking to Uma, and then to the Nolins, about the needlepoint.
Their goal was to make enough money to leave Haven Harbor. Jude called Mrs. Nolin, whose hair she'd cut at Maine Waves. She agreed to sell the Nolins the needlepoint if they'd get rid of the jewelry by putting it in Uma's room at the inn.
They kept out the sapphire necklace, to tie Uma to the crime, and the emerald ring, because Jude wanted it.
After Uma was back from lobstering with Arvin, Josh had followed her to the ledges by the lighthouse and hit her with a rock. Before he pushed her body into the water he'd fastened the sapphire necklace around her neck. He and Jude assumed Uma would be blamed for Lenore's death, especially since the Nolins agreed to plant the jewelry in Uma's room using her key, which Josh had taken.
They'd paid Josh and Jude twenty-five thousand dollars for the needlepoint and headed home to Quebec.
The needlepoint might have been worth more if they'd had the provenance we'd been working so hard to provide, but under the circumstances, they weren't picky.
The Canadian police had no trouble finding them. Or the stolen embroidery.
Mary would be getting her needlepoint back—after Jude's trial.
Chapter 44
Teach me to feel another's woe
To hide the fault I see
That mercy I to others shew
That mercy shew to me.
 
—Stitched by Susanna Magarge
at the Quaker School,
Bristol, Pennsylvania, 1827
Rev. Tom's sermon on the Sunday after that was on forgiveness.
I wondered how Uma's family felt. They weren't in church, of course. They'd taken their daughter's body back to Connecticut.
I wasn't as worried about Lenore's ex. Although I was surprised to see Charlie slide into a back pew after the first hymn.
Maybe he had things to think about. And maybe he'd even get his jewelry back. I didn't know what Lenore's will had said.
It didn't seem important anymore.
Mary and Rob were there, holding hands. I hoped the events of the past week would pull them closer together.
I was most worried about two people who weren't in church: Ob and Anna Winslow. They'd spent the past week sequestered at home, trying to deal with the loss of their son.
I hoped they'd be ready to talk soon. Josh's funeral was scheduled for Tuesday.
What Josh had done wasn't his parents' fault, but I knew how Haven Harbor reacted when one of their own made a mistake. Forgiveness might sound good on Sunday morning, but it would take a while for the community to absorb what had happened.
Jude's family wasn't in church either.
But the town would heal. I knew that, too, from personal experience.
After all, I was here.
Haven Harbor had accepted me back. I was settling in, making myself at home.
I even had plans. I'd started making new lists.
First, I'd contact interior decorators in Portsmouth and Boston about Mainely Needlepoint's services.
Second, the kitchen could use a coat of paint.
After that, I vowed to ask Gram to teach me to make blueberry muffins.
And to show me how to do more needlepoint stitches.
I might even get a cat.
I was going to be all right.
And Haven Harbor would go on.
Angie Curtis's Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie
Classic June/July Maine Dessert
 
 
Ingredients
2 frozen 9-inch deep-dish pie shells (Angie's never learned to make pie crust; if you have, make your own!)
2½ cups fresh rhubarb, cut in ½- to 1-inch pieces
2½ cups fresh strawberries, stems removed and cut in half
cup flour
1
cups granulated sugar plus a little to sprinkle on top
2 tablespoons cinnamon
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons salted butter, cut in small pieces
Heat oven to 425 degrees. Remove pie shells from freezer.
Mix flour, sugar, and cinnamon in large bowl.
Add lemon juice and cut-up rhubarb and strawberries. Mix together lightly—with hands is usually best.
Put everything inside one of the pie shells. Dot top of fruit with small pieces of butter.
Cover with second pie shell, squeezing edges together. Cut several slits in the top shell and sprinkle with sugar.
Place on rimmed baking sheet (to catch juices that will escape from the pie while it is cooking) and place in center of oven about 45 minutes, or until juices bubble and crust is browned.
May be served warm or cold. Top with vanilla ice cream for an extra treat.
 
Variations
 
Use blueberries instead of strawberries. Use both blueberries and strawberries. Use small pieces of pear or apple instead of berries.

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