The keepers, p.21
The Keepers, page 21
Jessie walked carefully through the first week of the season. She didn’t want to cause trouble, only watch for it. Sunday afternoon marked a goal for her. She stood on the deck and congratulated herself on making it this far. Mrs. Winslow and some of the others were leaving tomorrow, their stay had been uneventful and Jessie began to relax. From behind her, inside the dining room, came the clatter of silverware and the clink of china as the girls set up for dinner. It was accompanied by the aroma of chicken frying to a golden crispness. Sunday night was Velma’s down-home-country-cooking night. She had made cream gravy, hot biscuits with clover honey, whipped potatoes, and blackberry cobbler with ice cream for dessert. Earlier Mrs. Winslow had chattered on about how special Sunday night was to be.
Velma’s shrewd handling of the kitchen was a marvel. She served shish kebab on wild rice, trout amandine, and chicken curry during the week, then, to make the guests feel they were experiencing a real Ozark atmosphere, she cooked up a country feast.
Again the smooth, perfect flow of the resort struck Jessie, and a chill rippled across her neck. She gripped the deck railing and reminded herself to keep a hold on reality as well. She couldn’t let imagined fears detract from her purpose. After getting her priorities once again in order Jessie stretched her lips into a smile and went inside to help with the evening meal.
By eight thirty Velma had given the kitchen what she called a lick and a promise.
“Thought those folks wouldn’t ever get through,” she said as she threw a load of towels into the laundry bin outside the back door. “They know I close this kitchen early on Sundays. Well, there now,” she put a fresh pot of coffee on the back burner. “That’s set. Hope you don’t think I’m running out on you, but we look forward to Sundays, gets us home in time to rest up for the next week. I imagine Posey and the girls have took off already. You ought to make it an early night yourself. From what I figure you got about eight checking out in the morning, that isn’t hard, but getting the new ones settled takes some doing.”
Jessie nodded. “I’ve found that out. Things did go smoother from Tuesday on. Velma, I haven’t had time to tell you, but I think you’re doing a wonderful job. We couldn’t manage without you.”
Velma’s long rough face darkened to a mottled red and she shrugged as she lit a cigarette.
“Shoot, not much to it. Keep their bellies full. Then keep out of their way the rest of the time.”
Velma narrowed her eyes giving Jessie a searching look. “How you taking to it so far? None of these people getting to you, are they?”
There was a sudden chill in the warm humid kitchen. Something with tiny clawed feet scurried up Jessie’s spine.
“I’m doing fine, much better than last week. I might have had a touch of flu.”
“Yeah, you’re looking more pert.”
“... and the guests haven’t given me a minutes trouble.”
“That’s good. I guess you’ll get the hang of it all right. Now, I wouldn’t want to say anything out of place, I get along here cause I mind my own business, but some of these people got funny ways. It’s best not to get chummy with them. Like that skinny Winslow woman, anything you might overhear her say, well, it’s best forgotten.”
“I didn’t hear anything. What do you mean?”
“See there now! I’d do well to take my own advice. I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.” Velma removed her apron and hurried to the pantry to gather up her purse and bottle.
“Velma, wait. You can’t say something like that and go home. What are you trying to tell me?”
Velma lifted her rawboned shoulders in a sigh and put her purse and sack-wrapped bottle on the end of the worktable.
“Could be I’ve had a nip too many today, I meant you shouldn’t give any credit to her silly talk. That is, if you ever hear it. She’s got some spooky ideas about spiritualism. A lot of them that comes here have. They sort of gather here, like a retreat, you know. Like a church camp meeting once a year.”
“Are you saying this resort is a meeting place for a type of cult?”
“Now I didn’t say that, exactly. Look, you seem like a decent woman, Miz Nolan. I’m trying in my own dumb way to give you a little help.” Velma turned her back and reached for the abalone cross hanging below the matchbox.
“Is that why you hang the cross there every day?”
Velma stiffened, then crammed the abalone cross into the side compartment of her purse.
“I told you at the start this was my kitchen. I don’t expect to be questioned on what I do in it. I might not strike you as a religious person, but we got our ways and this happens to be mine.”
Velma’s sudden harshness stung and Jessie winced.
“I’m sorry, Velma. I wasn’t prying. You can do anything you want and thank you for caring enough to tell me about these people. Does everyone know about them?”
Velma picked up her purse and bottle and started toward the back door. It was clear she didn’t intend to stay and discuss the matter.
“Shorty’s waiting. He may look like a mild little man, but he does get touchy if I keep him sitting too long. I wish I hadn’t opened my big mouth, but I thought you might have noticed something and I didn’t want you to worry. They’re a group of harmless nuts. I suppose they got to congregate someplace and, let me tell you, it’s lucky for Lost Crossing they picked here. If you and your husband are half bright you’ll turn your head the way we do. Just be happy to take their money. Believe me, it spends every bit as good as if it came right from the mint. I sure hope you aren’t going to make more of this than what it is. I just thought it would be better if you knew how things was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Right off hand I can think of a dozen reasons. Course I don’t know your Mr. well as you do, but I doubt he would a turned them away cause of some old hill country talk. And if he did, where would I be? I been cooking here five years and don’t relish the idea of the lodge closing and me losing my job. Guess I don’t make myself too plain. I was trying to keep you from worrying if something you didn’t understand cropped up. Don’t you see?”
“I suppose I do.”
Velma gave a wide, toothy grin and stopped to pick up a large sack setting on the cabinet by the back door.
“Hope you don’t mind, I always take Shorty some chicken on Sunday night.”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, see you tomorrow.”
Jessie watched Velma hurry away, her long-legged, splay-footed stride covering the distance to the truck in minutes.
Jessie slumped against the doorjamb as if someone had dumped a load of sand on her. She could barely move and each labored breath dried her mouth and nose like a blast of hot desert wind. Above her the sky creaked and groaned as the threatening crack opened wider.
With a few words Velma had destroyed Jessie’s last thin hope that Jack was crazy and she and Andy were similarly deranged. It was true. The evil was real.
Jessie summoned her strength to fight off the panic. She tried to be objective. Surely not all the guests were involved, and nothing strange or harmful had happened this week. Still, Velma’s information brought a rush of fear.
Jessie whirled and hurried from the kitchen to search for Stan. He couldn’t shut his eyes to this!
Chapter Twenty-Four
There were no guests in the lounge. Stan was alone at the bar. In the dim room he was caught in a circle of soft white light spilling from an overhead baby spot. From speakers concealed on either side of the bar came the soft strains of A Summer Place. The music floated out into the rich, blue evening. Jessie stood in the doorway watching and trying to calm her thumping heart and trembling hands. If she ran to Stan and screamed out her news he might never listen. The only chance of reaching him was through reason and logic.
Jessie had given up hope of Stan ever listening to anything she said about the lodge, but perhaps Velma’s words would carry some weight. Jessie stepped into the lounge and Stan swung around on the barstool. For a second his eyes caught and reflected a spark of light, it accented his harsh look of contempt. Jessie tried to ignore the look and quickened her step. As she sat down beside him she smiled.
“Some week, huh?” Jessie said.
“Went pretty well, I’d say.” Stan lifted his glass and drained it, the ice cubes bumping softly against the glass. “You want something?” He slid off the stool and stepped behind the bar.
“Maybe a little brandy,” Jessie answered.
He poured their drinks and Jessie looked out toward the deck. “Where is everyone?”
“Sunday evening moonlight stroll,” Stan said without looking up. “It’s a tradition they tell me. A nature walk. Melanie shows them where to find night blooming flowers, they watch the moonlight on the river, that sort of thing.”
At the thought of what they might really be doing a rising panic pushed behind Jessie’s breastbone and sweat popped out across her upper lip. Stan shoved a glass across the bar to Jessie. She took a drink and tried not to clench her teeth. She wanted to skip the small talk, plunge right in, but caution held her back.
“I’m glad they’re gone,” Jessie forced a smile. “We haven’t had a minute to ourselves.”
“Maybe it’s better that way.”
“Stan, I don’t want to upset you and I don’t want to fight. But, please, we need to talk.”
“What about?”
“This place, I know it’s a touchy subject...”
“I thought you were feeling better, Jessie. That we had decided to let things ride until next spring.”
Jessie kept her eyes fixed on the brandy glass. The night she came back after talking with Jack she had purposely let Stan think this. It was the only way to remain at the lodge and protect Denise. And perhaps Stan, too.
“Yes, I realize that. But...”
“But nothing.” Stan’s voice was low and menacing. “I’m trying very hard to keep my temper, but you aren’t helping. We should stop this conversation before it goes any further.”
“We can’t, Stan. Velma told me something you can’t ignore. This is not my imagination. And if you have one shred of common sense left, you’ll have to admit something is strange about this place.”
Jessie repeated the story as carefully as possible, doing her best to keep the quaver out of her voice. Stan listened in stubborn silence, two patches of color burning high on his cheekbones. Calmly Jessie continued.
“Stan, we must not let these people stay here. We’ll have to start advertising and develop a new clientele. No wonder the lodge has such a steady occupancy. It’s a haven for some weird cult.”
Stan raised his hand and for an instant it hung poised as if to strike her, then he clenched his fist and slammed it on the bar in fury. The glasses trembled and Jessie drew back. Stan glared at her, his eyes dancing with yellow sparks.
“I can’t believe this. You’re trying to drive me crazy, too. Stop this nonsense or I’ll be forced to take you to a doctor. You’ve got me tied up in knots. Part of the time you seem normal, then you explode with insane ideas. Some twisted part of you can’t stand the thought of my success. And it’s getting dangerous.
“Have you been seeing Jack Tanner? Do you know where he’s hiding? Melanie says he has disappeared, hasn’t been at his station this week. Have you got him stashed away waiting to finish what he started if you can’t get me to leave?”
Speechless before his wrath, Jessie shook her head.
“You want it for yourself, is that it? Get rid of me and it will be yours, the grieving window’s inheritance, is that right?”
Jessie grabbed Stan’s arm, the muscles beneath her fingers tightened into hard knots.
“Please, Stan. Listen to what you’re saying. You know that isn’t true. Can’t you see what’s happening to us? The way we’re acting is proof that something is trying to destroy us. Someone or something wants us here and they gave you the lodge knowing you wouldn’t turn it down. You always accused me of being unrealistic, but in this case you can’t see straight. Think for a minute. No one gives something for nothing. It’s the basis for every con game in the world. If something seems too good to be real, it usually isn’t real. So far we don’t know who it is or what they want, but there will be a price to pay. You can count on it. So please, let’s give it up. Nothing is worth this.”
“If it weren’t for you, Jessie, I’d be a happy man. Everything else is perfect. You imagine Denise and Melanie are plotting to harm you, you believe kitchen gossip rather than trust me. Your suspicious nature has turned Andy into a weak, sick little boy. I admit falling heir to the lodge is unusual, but not impossible. As for the people who come here, maybe they did arrange it. They might want an owner who is so grateful he’ll take it with no questions. And that’s me! In your scheming did you stop to think that perhaps what they want is a well run retreat? A place they won’t be bothered? But they did slip up on one point... my wife.”
Jessie’s mouth was dry and she finished her drink. It gave her a minute to think. Stan had worked the situation out to his satisfaction and refused to consider the flaws. There was no hope of reaching him with Velma’s gossip or her fears. Still, Jessie couldn’t give up.
“Okay. Suppose you’re right. Then why not lay their cards on the table, come right out and say the property is yours if you continue to run it the way they want? Why the pretending, making up a phony relative? If whoever is behind it came out in the open and explained maybe I’d go for it, too. But we don’t know anything. And until we do, I say drop it and run.”
Stan lowered his head. Icy waves came off his body. Jessie’s skin crawled. She had never see Stan with such a strange look in his eyes.
“Get out of here, Jessie. I can’t talk to you any longer.”
In the dim light Stan’s face darkened, his lips drawn in an angry white line. For the first time Stan seemed capable of striking her. It was a shock. They weren’t that kind of couple. Stan was not a wife beating bully and she was not a victim. They were being forced into alien roles. Jessie didn’t say another word. She slipped off the bar stool and left the lounge. She had never felt more alone in her life. Whatever was at work in the lodge had successfully broken her marriage.
Jessie climbed the stairs with slow, heavy, plodding steps. She was convinced they were trapped, caught in the gray edge of that dark evil where the terror of nightmares becomes reality. The last unanswered question was, what could she do to save them? Jessie stopped in front of Denise’s room and slowly pushed open the door. The room was dark except for a shaft of milky blue moonlight stretched across the empty bed.
Jessie moved on down the hallway to Andy’s room. His door was closed. A crack of light edged the bottom. She waited a minute to gain her composure and if possible hide her fear. But her eyes didn’t respond. They felt dull and dead, like hard polished jade.
Life was a game of blind man’s bluff. You poked here and there, took a cautious step in one direction then another, never able to see the chasm inches before you. Some people said to hell with it and rushed forward at full speed. They were the go-for-broke, win-or-lose, crowd, the ones that either made it to the top or ended in the gutter. Sometimes Jessie wished she could take that path, be as fearless as they were, but there was something else, too. You couldn’t win by going against your nature. And no matter what your speed, the tomorrows were hidden. No one knew what lay ahead. She turned the cold brass knob and opened Andy’s door. As it swung inward Andy cried out, “Who is it?” His voice had a sharp edge that cut Jessie.
“Me, honey.”
Andy sat up in bed. A tiny blue streak smudged his chin. Jessie came to him and wiped at the faint stain with her thumb.
“Didn’t you take a bath? You still have dessert on your face.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to go to sleep.”
“I know. Where is your sister?”
“She went with Melanie and those people.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“To the old castle. I heard Denise and Melanie talking. I was hidden so they didn’t see me. It’s up the river, past the swinging bridge on the cliff above where Posey lives.” Andy looked down and primly smoothed the cover over his legs. He straightened each fold and crease, paying strict attention as if it were an important job.
“Why don’t we leave?” he asked without looking up.
“I think you know, Andy. Your Dad and Denise won’t come. Do you want to leave them here, alone?”
With great deliberation Andy shook his head. “No, we can’t do that. They don’t know.”
“Know what, Andy?”
“That there is something bad coming. I can’t tell what it is yet. When that man shot at you I thought he was the bad thing. I was worried because it happened and I didn’t feel anything. But then I thought about it and now I know he wouldn’t hurt anyone, not on purpose. He doesn’t have...” Andy pounded his knee. “Oh, I can’t say it right. I just know. He’s like a dog with sharp teeth. He could hurt if he wanted, but not unless something hurt him first. But I don’t feel that way about these other people. They are creepy, Mom. They’re like Melanie.”
Suddenly Andy’s eyes flashed with knowledge and fear.
“Don’t follow them, Mom.” Andy grabbed her hand and squeezed. His palm was moist and cold.
Jessie held out her arms and Andy lunged into them burying his head against her chest. She rocked back and forth slowly patting his back.
“I can’t fool you, can I? It’s hard to know too much, isn’t it?”
“No.” Andy raised his freckled face. “It’s hard because I don’t know enough. Let me go with you, you’ll get lost in the dark.”
“No, Andy. I’d be too worried with you along. I’ll not let them see me. I have to find out what’s going on. Then maybe we’ll know what to do. Okay?”
“What do I tell Dad if he comes looking for you?”
