A Summer with the Dead Page 7

  “Morning.” Elly stood at the bottom of the stairs wearing oversized jeans and a denim shirt. Her hair was gathered into a thin ponytail at the nape of her neck and the ponytail disappeared beneath her collar. Thick socks covered her tiny feet.

  “You coming down with a cold? Your voice sounds a raspy,” Maya said.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “The tea is ready and there will be eggs and pancakes soon,” Maya said.

  “I never eat pancakes.”

  Maya frowned and studied her aunt. “You ate them last Thursday morning.”

  “I never eat pancakes. I’ll take a cup of tea, though and I’ll be back for a couple’a those eggs after I get more firewood from the shed. Wouldn’t mind a piece of toast, dry.”

  Maya stepped back as Elly shoved her stocking feet into boots, slipped on the flannel-lined denim jacket from a hook beside the door and grabbed the leather gloves from the windowsill. “Go ahead with your own breakfast, young lady. I don’t require conversation with mine.”

  Maya shivered. It wasn’t Elly’s voice. It wasn’t Elly’s clothes or Elly’s petite, upright posture. It was as if someone else stood in the kitchen with her at that moment. Maya chewed her lower lip in silence as her aunt opened the back door and exited. Even Elly’s walk had changed.

  This person strode, leaning forward at the hips, arms swinging loose. Determined. Masculine.

  “What the hell,” Maya whispered.

  A tap on the window above the sink startled her. She recognized Coty, and for the first time, she was glad to see him. She motioned for him to come inside.

  He opened the back door and stepped inside, arriving with the smell of crisp spring morning air and pine pitch.

  “What’s Mr. Elly up to this morning?” he said.

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Elly has done this before. This is the third time since I arrived. One moment she’s Elly and the next moment, she’s … someone with a gruff voice and a swagger. I call him Mr. Elly.”

  “Well, Elly ate pancakes last Thursday morning, but now she almost snapped my head off because, she ‘never eats pancakes’.”

  Coty nodded. “That sounds like Mr. Elly all right. I had to introduce myself a second time because Mr. Elly didn’t seem to know who the heck I was just two weeks after I got here.” Coty shook his head. “She’s nuts, you know.”

  “Don’t say that, Coty. She’s just having a hard time remembering things. She has signs of dementia, that’s all.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.” Coty raised his brows and exited.

  Maya shelled two eggs, put them on a plate beside two pancakes and sat down at the table. Her hands trembled as she poured warmed syrup from a small blue pitcher. She’s nuts, you know. The words hurt almost as much as when Benson said the same thing about her.

  Maya’d never told Benson about her father, but somehow he found out. Maya suspected her mother revealed the secret. One evening, when Benson’s friends came over to watch a Seahawks game on the big screen, Benson blurted out how Maya’s father, Stephen Pederson had died in Western State Hospital. “Maya’s old man was batshit loony.” Benson described to their friends how her father’d spent two days laced in a straitjacket and in a padded cell for three weeks before finally being assigned a regular room. “It’s a good thing I decided not to have kids,” Benson added. “Can you imagine raising a pack of psychos?”

  Maya’d felt embarrassed, humiliated, wishing she could dissolve into the sofa cushions all the way through to the condo below theirs. Her face burned when Benson’s friends laughed out loud. Benson’s buddy, Fred, called her the next day.

  “Hey Maya. I think Bens was wrong to say those things in front of everyone. If you ever get tired of his bullshit, just let me know. I’d treat you a lot better than Bens does. Our secret, of course.”

  Maya finished eating and washed her dish and utensils at the sink.

  Elly returned from the shed, the two-wheel pushcart loaded with firewood. She rolled the cart up on the back porch.

  Maya opened the door. “Why didn’t you have Coty get the wood?”

  “Who?”

  “The handyman … lives out in the bunkhouse.”

  Elly tossed a disapproving glance across the driveway. “Oh, him. I got him busy doing other chores. Sides’ that, I don’t want him inside the house.”

  Maya brought in six pieces for the wood box in the kitchen while Elly stacked the rest outside on the porch.

  “One cartload is usually three day’s worth of wood. Let me know when you need more,” Elly’s voice sounded even deeper than before.

  As Elly washed up at the kitchen sink, Maya shelled the other two eggs and made toast while the tea steeped. Then she sat down at the table across from Elly. After a few bites of toast, Elly paused. She leaned forward, holding her head in her palms.

  “Elly? You okay?” Maya asked.

  Elly didn’t answer. Her right hand dropped to the table, sending the fork flying and bouncing across the floor. As if dizzy, she swayed back and forth in her chair and then she straightened.

  “Oh dear,” Elly said, her voice back to normal. “I’m dropping things again.”

  “Wait. I’ll get another one.” Maya hurried across the kitchen, opened the drawer, and returned with a clean fork. She picked up the other one and tossed it in the sink.

  “Mama used to scold me for dropping things or for spilling my milk. I think of her every time it happens,” Elly said. “She said I was a clumsy child, more like a boy than a girl.”

  “What was your mother’s name?” Maya asked. It was a relief to hear Elly’s normal voice.

  “Her name was Eunice but I don’t remember much about her. I remember thinking she was pretty. She died when I was eight. Didn’t Stephen tell you anything about our mother?”

  “Daddy said she wouldn’t ever let the neighbor kids inside to play.”

  “Mom was always cleaning. She was so afraid of germs she boiled our laundry in a big pot over an outside fire. She was raised during a flu epidemic. We had to change our bedding every day.”

  “Want some pancakes with your eggs?” Maya asked.

  “I thought I smelled pancakes. I’d love some, baby girl.”

  Maya strolled the backyard after breakfast. She picked a bouquet of daffodils for the dining room table because that room needed color, something cheerful to brighten the gloom. The dining room was always chilly, even though it was adjacent to the kitchen, the warmest room in the house. The dining room had one south-facing window, the sunny side. Even so, the room always felt cold.

  It’s all that dark wainscoting. Maya centered the vase of daffodils on the dining room table and stepped back to weigh the effect. Instead of the flowers brightening the shadowy room, the room grayed down the bright yellow blossoms to a mustard color. Sunlight cut into the room through the window and painted a golden square on the hardwood floor, but it failed to warm the room. More than once, while passing through, Maya shivered. The dining room felt thirty degrees cooler than the kitchen. Sometimes in the evening she saw her breath in that room.

  Heading upstairs, Maya met Aunt Elly on the landing.

  “Gonna shoot them llamas if that bastard Karl Schaff doesn’t get ‘em off’n my land,” Elly growled.

  “Llamas?”

  “Ain’t ye seen ‘em, girl? Over the hill there? Eight llamas grazing on my property. I told Schaff more’n once to get’em out’a there, but he hasn’t done it yet. I’ll bet when he finds one of them ugly beasts dead, he’ll listen to me then.”

  “I didn’t see any llamas, Aunt Elly.” Maya spoke before noticing the change in Elly’s voice. Elly was gone and in her place, Mr. Elly stood, bending forward at the waist, his brows cinched together.

  “Hmph,” Mr. Elly snorted. “I should’ve bought Karl Schaff’s land when I had the chance.

  I wouldn’t be havin’ trouble with them llamas now if ’n I had.
” Mr. Elly stomped into the kitchen and pulled an aged phonebook from a drawer. “Maybe I’ll call the sheriff.” He thumbed through the pages. “Schaff wanted way more’n his place was worth. He said my offer was ‘insultin’.” Mr. Elly’s thumb halted halfway down a page. “Here’s the Sheriff’s number.”

  “How about you and I take a walk over the hill and you show me the llamas,” Maya said.

  Mr. Elly glanced up with a scowl. “What fer?”

  “I was there just yesterday, remember? When I went for a walk over the hill? There were no llamas.”

  “You callin’ me a liar, girl?”

  “Of course not, but I think we should make sure before calling the sheriff. It would be embarrassing to accuse your neighbor and then have the sheriff show up and say those llamas aren’t on your property.”

  “But I seen’em. Go take a look, girl. I know Karl Schaff’s llamas are on my land. If the sheriff won’t do nothin’, then I’ll load up my shotgun and …”

  “I’m heading up over hill right now. Let me get my boots and jacket on and I’ll check on those llamas, okay? Before you phone anyone, or load that gun?”

  Mr. Elly shook his head back and forth like an angry bull. “I’ll be wait’n right here in my own kitchen. At the age of eighty-four, one trip over the hill and back is enough for one day.”

  “I thought you said you’re seventy-six.” Maya clamped her mouth shut. “I’ll be right back.” Maya hurried out the door and along the driveway toward the upper pasture. At the woodshed Coty wedged the axe into the chopping block and hurried to join her.

  “Where we going?” he said, matching her stride.

  “I’m glad you didn’t sneak up on me this time,” Maya said. “I have enough problems.”

  “I never did sneak up on you. Both occasions were strictly coincidence. What’s the dilemma?”

  “Mr. Elly insists Karl Schaff’s llamas are grazing on his land and he’s threatening to shoot them.”

  “What llamas?”

  “Eight llamas, he said, and if Karl Schaff doesn’t get them out, Mr. Elly is going hunting.”

  “We can’t let that happen,” Coty said. “I like llamas.”

  Ten minutes later they reached the top of the hill and paused to catch their breath. They stood side by side on a ridge above a neighboring valley. Forested foothills back dropped the pastures and rail fences followed the rollercoaster tree line.

  “I was almost hoping we’d find some llamas up here. I have an apple in my pocket,” Coty said. “Do llamas like apples?”

  “I don’t know, but I wish we would have found some llamas too,” Maya said. “I dread telling Mr. Elly there are none. He was getting angry when I doubted him.”

  “I’ll go back inside with you. Maybe if there’s two of us, he won’t be so irritable.”

  Maya nodded. “By the way, Mr. Elly doesn’t like you,” Maya said. “I mean, judging by his expression when your name came up.”

  “I know.”

  They headed back downhill.

  “What are you working on?” Maya asked.

  Coty stubbed his toe on a clump of grass and almost fell before regaining his footing. “Working on?”

  “Around the farm. Building fences, repairing the roof, digging a drainage ditch, stuff like that? Elly said you were handy.”

  “Oh!” Coty sounded relieved and Maya wondered what he’d thought she meant. “I’m replacing the toilet in the bunkhouse, along with new floorboards and support timbers. The old john was about ready to drop right through the rotten floor into the crawlspace underneath, and let’s face it, the timing could be uncomfortable, if not dangerous.”

  Maya grinned, picturing the bunkhouse toilet collapsing the floor in the middle of a rainy, blustery night.

  Coty opened the back door and they stepped inside. The kitchen felt like an oven compared to outside. Maya unbuttoned her jacket and slid free.

  “There’s tea.” Elly stood beside the woodstove, kettle in hand. Her voice sounded normal.

  “No llamas,” Maya reported.

  “What, dear?”

  “You said Karl Schaff’s llamas were on your property,” Coty said. “We went to check.”

  Maya added, “Coty and I just walked up there and there’s no llamas in sight.”

  “Well, heavens no,” Elly said. “There’s been no llamas on Karl Schaff’s land since nineteen seventy-five when Karl died and his son, Eddy, took over running the place. Eddy sold all the llamas to Franny Linderman next county over.” Elly picked up the teakettle. “Did you say you wanted tea?”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  MAYA SPOTTED COTY THROUGH the kitchen window. This time she didn’t duck out of sight. Instead, her neck and ears grew warm. She waited to see if he looked in her direction, her hand raised, ready to wave, but he swung the long handle of a shovel over his shoulder and headed uphill toward the barns.

  She hated admitting she was attracted to him, especially after accusing him of stalking her. Her face burned at the thought. He’d followed her all the way to the top of the ridge and apologized, and she knew face-to-face apologies were not easy.

  She liked the way he looked and the way he moved. He had an attractive profile with a straight nose and even chin. She always exhaled as he approached and inhaled as he passed by, smelling cedar and moss, or sometimes a trace of wood smoke or spicy winter apples.

  Coty disappeared into tall winter grass near the top of the hill and Maya focused on her own reflection in the kitchen window. “We’re both here to help Aunt Elly and that’s all.” She was determined to not make anything more of it than that. Her divorce from Benson was too recent and the wounds too painful to think about starting another relationship. She shuddered, picturing how it would feel, telling Coty about herself.

  The anxiety, the OCD, the Lorazapam.

  Coty was nothing like Benson. Benson had phoned the day after their first date. He sent yellow roses and an embossed card with lilacs and goldfinches on it. At first Maya was flattered, but that same evening her mother phoned.

  “Maya?”

  “Hi Mama. What’s up?”

  “I’m wondering how your date went the other evening.”

  “It was okay.”

  “Just okay? He sounded like such a gentleman when he phoned me yesterday.”

  “Benson phoned you?”

  “He said I must be a very special mother to have raised such a wonderful girl. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Really? He said that?”

  “He asked me what your favorite flowers are, and what kind of cologne you like, and what kind of candy.”

  “And what did you tell him, Mama?”

  “Yellow roses of course, and I told him you love goldfinches.”

  “I do like yellow roses, but lilacs are my favorite flower.”

  “Lilacs? Well … I don’t remember you ever saying that.”

  “What else did you tell him?” Maya asked.

  “L’Air du Temp cologne.”

  “I haven’t worn that since college, Mama.”

  “Well for petesake, Maya, what do you wear then?”

  “Gai Mattiolo. That’s all I’ve worn for the last ten years.”

  “Well.” Mama said again. Her words sounded clipped and irritated.

  “I’m wondering what kind of candy I’m going to have to pretend I like,” Maya said.

  “Maya, I thought I was helping. He seemed so determined to impress you.”

  “He impressed you, Mama. I’m not blaming you, but … he did call you? You didn’t call him, right?”

  “I didn’t call him. Do you still like chocolate covered caramels?”

  “Love them.”

  When Maya thought about those early days with Benson, she realized there had been warning signs, like the way he treated waiters in restaurants, or slammed the receiver down on charity fundraisers. He threatened a neighbor’s Shih-Tzu when the little dog dug under the fence. The neighbor repaired the lawn and then
sought a restraining order after Benson threatened to kill the dog. Maya was relieved when the neighbor moved away because it was one less thing to worry about. She’d never told her mother about Benson’s anger. Mama always praised Benson and Benson could put on a great act. He was in sales, after all.

  Tony Bradley phoned and Maya glanced at the calendar. It was Wednesday, four days since he’d joined them for dinner. That was a respectable length of time.

  “Did Elly say it was okay for me to tramp around and appraise her farm?” he asked.

  “Elly said it’s fine with her. Are you coming over today?”

  “No. I’m leaving town on business for about a week. I’ll phone when I get back.”

  “Talk to you then.”

  “Who was that?” Elly asked.

  “Tony Bradley. He wants to explore the farm sometime soon, to get an idea of its value.”

  “He’s a handsome devil, isn’t he?” Elly said. “I almost remembered, the other day, where I’ve seen him before. It didn’t quite come back to me, but it eventually will”

  “He also suggested having your garage sale closer to Graceville. He said he manages an empty warehouse near the River Lodge Cafe. Lots of parking and a roof in case it rains. He gave us a number to call when we’re ready. I wrote it down on the tablet there.”

  “That’s thoughtful of him, but we’d have to move all the stuff over there. That might take a lot of driving back and forth and there is so much stuff.”

  “Tony said he has a truck and a driver and he’ll transport everything for you.”

  “My goodness, Maya. He must be smitten with you.”

  “I don’t think it’s that,” Maya said. “I think he’s anticipating a return on his investment.”

  “Give it time, baby girl. I knew Harlan for twenty years before we got married.”

  “Tony Bradley isn’t my type, Elly. He’s too suave. I can’t picture ever marrying someone prettier than me. I think he’s more interested in you and this property.”