A Gift from the Past. Carla Cassidy
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small smile. “What’s the matter, Cookie? Afraid to sit with me in the dark?”
She rose to his bait, a flush of color staining her cheeks. “Just for a minute,” she said and swept past him and out the front door.
He followed behind her and together they sank down on the top step with inches between them. For a moment neither of them spoke. Nighttime in Mayfield was always quiet, peaceful.
There were no sirens in the distance, no traffic noises to disrupt the rhythmic cadence of the insects that filled the air. The sky overhead was a blanket of stars and a plump near-full moon hung suspended in the air as if by magic. “There’s nothing prettier than a Mayfield moon,” he observed.
“It’s the same moon that shines in California,” she replied.
He laughed lightly. “I suppose it is. It just looks prettier from here.”
She released a sigh that whispered of exhaustion, and he turned to look at her, noting how the moonlight bathed her beautiful features in a silvery glow.
“How long do you think you can keep this up?” he asked softly.
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “As long as it’s necessary.” She sighed again. “You’ve just caught us at a bad time. Things will get better. The doctor expects Sarge to be able to get out of the wheelchair with some physical therapy and time.”
“So, he isn’t paralyzed?”
“No, just weak.”
“Is he seeing a physical therapist?”
She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. “Not right now. He’s being difficult and wallowing in pity. But with a little more time that will change.”
“Claire, given a little more time, you’re going to end up in the hospital with a bad case of exhaustion. You need to hire some help.”
“That kind of help doesn’t come cheap.” She said the words with great reluctance. “And don’t even offer because I don’t want a dime from you. Sarge and I can handle things just fine on our own.”
A stir of anger rose up inside him. “Dammit, Claire, your stubborn self-reliance is someday going to be the death of you.” It had already been the death of their marriage. The words rang in his head, but he bit them back before they could be spoken aloud. Nothing could be served by going back to that place in time.
“If you brought me out here to extol my character flaws, then I think this conversation is finished.” She started to rise, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down next to him.
“Wait…okay, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed. She pulled her hand from his and remained tensed as if for flight. Once again, he became aware of her fresh-scented perfume and the heat of her body and he fought a sudden desire to reach out and pull her into his arms.
However, with far too much clarity he remembered how stiff and unyielding her body had been the last time he’d attempted to hold her.
“What are you going to do with the treasure if you find it?” he asked.
She eyed him, her gray eyes almost silver in the moonlight. “I don’t know, maybe hire the help that you think I need. We don’t need anyone full-time, just maybe a day or two a week so I can get a part-time job and help out with the bills.” She reached a hand up and touched a length of her hair.
“And if there’s anything left over, maybe go to the beauty shop and have your hair and nails done?” He smiled at her look of surprise. “I haven’t forgotten how much you used to enjoy a trip to Betty’s Beauty Spa.”
A tiny smile whispered at her lips. “I can’t remember the last time somebody else washed my hair for me.” The smile disappeared. “I still don’t understand what you wanted to talk to me about.”
“I have a deal to offer you.”
“What kind of a deal?”
“I’ll help you find that treasure while I’m here, if in return you help me find out something about Daniel and Sarah Walker.” It had been an idea that had been boiling around in his head all evening. He knew Claire would never take anything from him, but hoped she’d let him help her get at least some of the money they so obviously needed.
“How am I supposed to find out anything about those people?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Mayfield was begun in 1849. Maybe they were citizens. You used to like digging around in the old records at City Hall.”
“I don’t have the time,” she exclaimed.
“You could take the time while I’m here,” he countered. “I can entertain Sarge and give you the time to take a break from here and see what you can find.”
She frowned, obviously thinking about it. “They can’t be long-lost relatives of mine. I did our genealogy a long time ago and I don’t recall any Walkers in the family tree.” She swirled a strand of her hair between two fingers and he wished it were his fingers touching the silk of her hair. “Why do you care about those people in the picture anyway?”
“Aside from the fact that they look just like us?” He stared up at the moon, trying to find the words to explain to her what he’d felt from the moment he’d seen that photo.
He looked back at her, wondering if she’d think he’d lost his mind. “I just feel as though fate put that picture there in the ground for us to find, that we were meant to find it for a reason.”
She stood and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “And I’d say fate already had its go at us and I have no intention of letting it dabble in my life ever again.”
She moved to the front door. “But I’ll take you up on that deal. You help me find the treasure money and I’ll see what I can find out about Sarah and Daniel Walker for you. With any luck, both can be accomplished very quickly.” With these last words she disappeared back into the house.
Joshua remained where he was seated. He tipped his head back and once again stared up at the moon, as the sound of the night insects created a lullaby.
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