Page 55

CHAPTER TEN

M ax stood with his arms folded across his chest. He was surprised to find a keen sense of disappointment in Becca residing in his heart. Though he’d been suspicious of her, the knowledge that she’d played him for a patsy rankled more than he’d thought it would. There had been something different about the young woman, something that tugged at his emotions in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well?” he asked when she shut the door behind Molly. “This had better be good.”

She wetted her lips, and he saw the fear in her eyes. She was afraid of him? The startling thought made him drop his gaze and look away.

“I’m not here to pry into Laura’s death,” she said quietly.

“Then why are you here? And don’t tell me it’s for the job. I’m not that stupid.”

“I—I knew the people who died on the boat last month. I was trying to find out about the explosion.”

“How did you know them?”

She looked away. “I’d rather not say.”

“I think you’d better.”

She hadn’t been looking at him as she spoke, but she looked up from her studied perusal of the carpet at his sharp tone. Her chin jutted out. “No. That’s all I’m saying. But I’ll continue to do the best job I can with your work. You need me, Max, and you know it.”

He scowled. She was right about that. He needed someone to organize his notes and help keep him on track. It was unlikely he could find someone else to come out here. And Molly loved her. But was she more trouble than she was worth? He was beginning to think so.

He sighed and chewed on his lower lip. It could wait until he had her investigated. Maybe he’d be far enough along in his work to be able to do without her then.

“You can stay,” he said abruptly. “But stay out of family business. It doesn’t concern you.”

She didn’t respond to his terse comment but merely nodded and turned to leave. She turned back around. “I can see under that gruff exterior, Max. You’re not as tough as you’d like people to believe. And God still loves you, even if you don’t believe it.”

Her tall, willowy figure slipped out the door. Max closed it behind her. What did she know about the way God had deserted him? He glanced at his watch. Nearly nine o’clock. Adam should still be up. He grabbed the phone and dialed the number.

“Hey, Adam,” Max said when his old college friend answered the phone. “I’ve got a rush job for you. Find out what you can about a Becca Lynn.” He told Adam what he knew and gave him Becca’s last address. His friend promised to see what he could find out.

Max hung up the phone and went to the window. The moonlight glimmered on Lake Superior’s waves. To the west, he could see the lighthouse on the mainland flicker on and off. The old lighthouse had been dark for years until Bree Nicholls had restored it. Now the beacon guided ships through dangerous waters, and Max often wished there was a beacon like that for him. He felt adrift these days, rudderless.

Becca’s arrival had sparked a yearning he’d had when talking to Gram in the old days. Gram would say it was God tugging at him, and maybe that’s what was happening. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad.

Becca’s pulse still throbbed as she escaped to her room. Max wouldn’t let things ride for long. She could sense his impatience to know the truth. He’d get it out of her before too long. It was all she could do not to spill all of it when his gaze pinned her to the wall. She had to maintain her composure long enough to discover the truth. Max was still a suspect himself. She had to remember that.

Her room felt tainted as her eyes fell on the bed where the figurine had been. A trickle as cold as Superior ran up her spine. She fell to her knees beside the bed and prayed for safety and for God to cleanse this room of the evil that had been here.

“Help me to be a light in the darkness here, Lord,” she whispered as she got up and wiped her eyes. She had to lean on God for courage because right now she wanted to turn and run.

This place needed light. Through the window she could see the lighthouse beacon flash on and off. She hadn’t done a very good job the last few days. Sometimes the darkness seemed overwhelming. The lighthouse never tired of its job out on the water, and she needed to have that same steadfastness.

Her grandmother would be a haven for her. She glanced at her watch. Would Gram still be up? One way to find out. She slipped out the door and tiptoed down the hall. A light shone from under Gram’s bedroom door. Becca tapped lightly on the door.

“Come in.” Gram’s voice sounded strong and alert.

Becca heard a sound down the hall to the left. She stepped quickly into Gram’s bedroom and shut the door behind her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she prayed no one had seen her enter her grandmother’s room. It would be sure to arouse suspicion for the secretary to be spending time with the house owner for no apparent reason. She was going to have to watch how she interacted with Gram.

Her grandmother was propped in bed on three pillows with her Bible in her hand. Her face brightened when she saw Becca.

“I was just praying for you, my dear,” she said, holding out her hand. “You look upset. What is it?”

“Max is suspicious of me,” Becca said, hurrying to the bed. “He was ready to throw me off the island.”

“We can’t have that,” Gram said.

Becca could see the wheels turning in Gram’s head. “I have an idea,” her grandmother said. “The kids have been after me to do something about my books. Do you have any bookkeeping experience?”

“Yes, I have a minor in business,” Becca admitted. Of course she also had minors in art history, interior design and economics, though she didn’t admit it. She didn’t want her grandmother to know she’d been such a flake in college and had changed her major so many times she’d spent six years in school.

“Perfect. I’ll tell Max he has to share you, and that I want you to keep my books and help me get organized. What are your hours with him?”

“Nine to three.”

“We’ll change those from nine to one and you can work on my books for a couple of hours a day.”

“He’ll be angry,” Becca warned.

“Most likely. But there will be nothing he can do about it. And he can’t send you packing without my permission,” her grandmother said with obvious satisfaction. “I can take his bellowing.”

“I’m not sure I can.” Becca shuddered. “He was so angry with me tonight.”

“His bark is worse than his bite.” Gram pulled her down and kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Now get out of here before someone finds you. Look into the hall before you go out.” Her cheeks were flushed as though she was enjoying the secrecy.

Becca suppressed a smile. This was likely the most excitement her grandmother had experienced in years. She kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek then went to the door. She put her ear against it and listened. Nothing. Turning the knob silently, she poked her head out of the door and looked. The hall looked empty. She slipped through the door and closed it behind her as quietly as she could.

She sped down the hall toward her door, nearly reaching it before she saw a dark figure at the top of the stairs.

“I just knocked on your door.” Tate stepped out of the shadows. “What were you doing in Gram’s room?”

He’d seen her. Becca’s heart sank, and she fumbled for an answer. “Um, she has some work she wants me to do for her.”

Her cousin’s eyes widened. “What work could Gram have to do?”

“Accounting stuff, I guess. She wants me to help organize her a couple of hours a day.”

“I wonder what brought that on,” Tate said thoughtfully. “We’ve all been after her for years to do something about her affairs. Max has been in charge of her buying supplies and keeping an eye on her finances, but that’s been as far as it’s gone.”

“It shouldn’t take long to get her books in order,” Becca said.

“She probably thought now would be the time with a secretary in the house.” Tate smiled.

“Why were you looking for me?” Becca asked.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“Shayna has been lonely for female companionship. She really likes you, and it was good of you to befriend her.”

Becca’s heart warmed toward her cousin. In spite of his problem with alcohol, he must love his wife. “I like Shayna. I didn’t do it as a favor. I need a friend as well.”

Tate smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I haven’t been the best husband.”

He stared at Becca, and she saw a hint of desperation in his gaze. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked him.

“You’re a praying woman,” he said. “You might think to ask God to help me get this demon off my back.”

“You could ask him yourself.”

Tate shook his head. “I used to go to church all the time, and me and God were on a first name basis. Then little by little I got caught up in other things. Now look at me.” He smiled wryly. “God has probably forgotten all about me.”

“I know that’s not true,” Becca said softly. “God still loves you, Tate. He has never stopped.”

Tate smiled. “You’d make a good preacher, Becca.”

She could see he wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. “I’ll pray for you, Tate.”

“You know, you remind me of someone. I’ve been trying to put my finger on it ever since you came, but I can’t seem to remember. Another benefit of drinking.” He lifted his beer in a silent toast. “It will come to me.”

As he walked away, Becca could only pray he never remembered. They’d been close as children. She was surprised it had taken him this long to realize she was familiar. Hopefully, the memories would elude him until she was free to reveal who she really was. She resolved to pray he’d turn his life around.

The next morning Becca approached the dining room with trepidation. She’d barely slept last night as she wondered what Max would say when Gram revealed her plan to him. A heavy cloud cover with accompanying drizzle dampened her mood even more.

The weather seemed to have affected everyone in the house. Becca stepped into the dining room and went to her place. Her grandmother greeted her with a smile, but the rest of the group barely grunted at her good morning. Even Molly seemed subdued.

Mrs. Jeffries brought in the platters of eggs and pancakes, and everyone passed the food with little discussion.

Shayna glanced at Becca. “I suppose you want to pray.”

At least it was getting easier. Sometimes courage worked like that. Start down a path and it got easier.

Becca exchanged a glance with Gram.

Gram cleared her throat. “You’ve all been after me to get my affairs in order, so I’ve decided to do just that. Becca here has graciously agreed to help me out. Max, I’d like her at one every day for a bit. Once I get organized, a few hours a week will likely suffice.”

Max gaped, and Becca suppressed a grin. “I need her myself, Gram,” he said finally. “Once I have my notes more fully in order, it would be easier.”

“I realize it may put you back a few weeks, but I’ll pay her salary for you so that won’t be an issue.”

Becca had never seen this inflexible side of her grandmother. From Gram’s tone, it was clear Max had no choice.

Max didn’t seem to take the hint. “It’s still an issue. I’d like to help, but Becca is my employee, not yours. I’ll pay her salary, and she’ll answer to me not you. I can spare her a few hours a week, but that’s all. If Becca is agreeable to work for you, she’ll need to do it after the hours I need her. She’s done at three. She could work until five for you.” He glanced at Becca as if daring her to contradict him.

“Those hours are too long,” Gram objected. “How about if we compromise, and Becca joins me from two to three? It will take a bit longer to get my office organized, but it can still be done.”

Max frowned then shrugged. “Okay, I guess I can live with that.”

“Let’s not fight this morning,” Tate said in a weary voice.

Tate’s face was pale, and Becca wondered if he had a hangover or if he’d just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed.

“That’s all settled,” Gram said. “I’d like to get started today.”

Becca smiled at Gram’s wink. “Okay by me. Thanks, Gram.”

“Then we’d better get to work.” Max shoveled one last bite of pancake into his mouth and stood.

“Max, really! Poor Becca hasn’t had a bite to eat yet,” Shayna chided.

She had taken to visiting with Becca every evening and they discussed the books they’d been reading. Becca warmed at Shayna’s defense of her and gave her a grateful smile.

Shayna smiled back. “Sit down and enjoy your breakfast. The world won’t end if your story takes two weeks longer than you’d hoped.”

Max didn’t answer Shayna but went toward the door. “Finish your breakfast, Becca. I’ll see you in my office when you’re done.”

“That man,” Shayna said when Max had left the room. “He is so driven.”

“He has good reason to be,” Gram said gently. “He’s feeling he can’t write anymore, and a comment like you just made makes him feel what he does is unimportant. You really should apologize, Shayna.”

“He knows I don’t feel that way,” Shayna said. “I’m one of his biggest fans.”

“I love his writing,” Becca said. “I’ve read everything he’s ever written. His characterization is phenomenal. I’d read his laundry list.”

Too late she realized she sounded like a groupie. She smiled feebly. “He really is remarkable. I’m glad for the opportunity to work with him.”

Gram’s smile was warm and approving. “You might try telling him that, Becca.”

Becca nodded and picked at her food. The bickering had dispelled any hunger she’d had. She finally pushed her plate away and got up. “I’d better get to work.”

“I’ll see you at two,” Gram called after her.

Becca nodded and went to Max’s office. The few bites of food she’d managed lay in her stomach in a hard knot.

Max was bent over his computer. He straightened up when she entered the room. “I want to know one thing,” he said.

“What’s that?” Becca went to her desk and pulled a book toward her.

“How did you get Gram to agree to letting you help her?”

“It was her idea.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He stared at her steadily until she looked away.

“It’s the truth,” she said. “I didn’t even know she needed any help, so how could it have been my idea?”

“I want to know how you know Mason and Suzanne Baxter,” Max muttered. “I don’t like all this secrecy.”

Becca sighed. “Let’s just get to work.”

He shoved a stack of papers away. “I’m warning you—don’t do anything to hurt Gram. I love her, and you won’t like the consequences if I ever find out you’ve stepped over the line.”

“I love her too,” Becca protested.

“You don’t know her that well. Or so you claim.” His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

Caught. She looked away. “She’s a darling. Anyone can see that,” she said.

“Yes, she is. She’s always been there for me, and I will always be here for her. So take that as a warning.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Becca said.

“Oh, I am. But I’m watching you as well. You’re going to have to tell me the truth sooner or later. I’d rather it be sooner, but I can wait. I’m good at waiting.”

Becca knew how a mouse felt when it was trapped in a hole by a patient cat. Maybe her brother and sister could come soon. She could use an ally. The heavy load of what she had to accomplish nearly crushed her shoulders. But she’d do this. Her parents deserved that much.

She looked at the desk. “What do you want me to do first?”

“Just keep working on taking notes of pertinent Ojibwa legends. Group them by type of legend.”

She nodded and got to work. When she ran across the section on the Windigo, she sat up and paid even closer attention. According to the three books she had looked at, some researchers thought the legends may have started with men who contracted rabies or who went insane from the isolation of the far north.

That didn’t apply here. Becca’s thoughts wandered to the figurine left on her bed last night. Mrs. Jeffries seemed the most likely culprit, in spite of her professed horror at seeing it. She was the one who talked about the Windigo all the time. What if she had recognized Becca and wanted her gone? But that still didn’t answer the question of why. Becca was no threat to the housekeeper.

Becca sighed and pushed the book away. Her head ached from the sleepless night and the stress of the last few days. She longed to kick off her shoes and wander in the sand, though looking at the inclement weather, that wasn’t a good option today.

Max leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “It’s nearly lunch time. Molly is supposed to go to her friend’s for a sleepover. Would you care to ride along? There’s an Ojibwa burial site I thought we might stop and see on the way home.”

“Today?” Becca glanced at the wet, gray skies.

“You afraid you’ll melt?”

His derisive tone smarted and implied he knew she wasn’t sugar. “Not at all,” she said. “I’m game. I was wanting a break anyway.”

“Bring an umbrella and stout shoes. It’s not an easy walk.”

Even as she nodded and went to gather her things, Becca wondered if it was safe to go off with Max. Accidents happened, and he wouldn’t be held accountable for it.