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The musky scent of closed rooms assailed her when she entered. She pulled back the drapes and threw open all the windows to let the fresh air roam through.
The parlor had been turned into a bedroom. The wall between the pantry and herb room had been removed, creating a combination office and library for her grandfather after he’d had the stroke and could no longer walk upstairs.
Megan paused, then went to the bedroom closet. Few clothes remained. Patrick Windom had stubbornly worn his ranch clothing until the jeans and work shirts had worn out, then he’d gone through the dress shirts and pants. The suit jackets had been donated to charity long ago. There was little to do but place the remaining items in bags for the dump or the church emergency supply.
The drawers and shelves took little time, and she was soon finished with the task. She stood at the office door, staring at the massive desk that had served several family patriarchs through the years.
Tomorrow, right after the chores, she would go through this room. Unexplained dread wafted through her. She didn’t know what she was afraid of, but it was time to face those fears. She knew Jess would be interested, but she didn’t intend to ask for his help. This was something she needed to do on her own.
If she discovered anything, she wanted to evaluate the information first, then…then she’d make a decision.
The next morning, Megan woke at dawn as usual. She put on a pot of coffee, then, munching on an English muffin, headed out to start the chores. Saturday was livestock auction day, but she decided not to go. She didn’t want to take on any more training chores just yet, although she made part of her living buying, training and selling Western riding horses.
In a field near the house, she waved to the farmer who leased their land. He was cutting hay, which would be stored for winter feed.
After feeding the mare, she let mother and daughter into the pasture next to the barn. Cattle roamed the meadows and rocky hillsides with their young ones. The sky was clear. The lake was still. All of nature looked peaceful.
Sitting on the rail fence, she studied the tranquil waters and wondered if Kyle was out in his boat again.
Probably not. The sun was barely up. She’d have heard the engine in the quiet of early morning. Gazing toward the section where the lake narrowed to a point and a creek flowed into it from the high mountain peaks, bringing down snow melt and glacial runoff, she considered an idea that had been running through her mind all week.
Why not investigate the wrecked sailboat?
Surely no one had a better right. Besides, she’d read the police reports. She knew exactly where the wreck was.
Once she’d gone out there by herself and, with her snorkeling mask on, had been able to make out the lines of the craft on the rocky shelf beside a huge block of granite pushed into the lake by a glacier long ago.
Excitement pulsed through her. The water was icy cold in the depths, but it was bearable near the surface in the summer. She could stand the temperature long enough to dive down to the wreck and look it over, see what there was to see. Maybe she would discover something.
Or maybe seeing the boat would trigger her memory. That’s what she wanted more than anything, to simply remember, to find the child she’d been and put her and the memories to rest.
The troubling sadness struck her again. It was as if her adult self felt sorry for the child she’d once been. She didn’t understand it at all.
Leaping from the rail fence, she jogged to the house. There, she called Kate’s number and asked for Jess.
“He isn’t home,” Kate said. “He and the kids have gone to Medicine Bow for the auction. They’ll be gone all day.”
“Darn.”
She thought for a minute. Her two female cousins lived along a creek that ran into a shallow finger of the lake. Jess and Kate often took their kids for a cruise in the evening. They would surely notice any activity, even if it was at the opposite end of the long, narrow lake.
“Can I take a message?” Kate asked.
Megan took a deep breath. “I want copies of all the information he has on the sailboat that went down, all the photos and police reports. I’m going to—”
She tried to think of an explanation.
“Check it out?” Kate finished on a curious note.
“Yes.”
“Sometimes,” Kate said slowly, “it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
A chill crept up Megan’s neck. “I may remember,” she reminded her older cousin. “Seeing the sailboat could trigger my memories of the past.”
“The memories might not be pleasant, not all of them.”
Kate was the nurturer in the family. She always considered the impact of events and worried about the consequences. Her concern warmed Megan.
“I know, but…I want to know.”
“Even if you remember everything that ever happened to you, even if we discover all the facts, we still might not understand the why of it.”
“It’s something we all have to face,” Megan said, resolute in her quest. “I’d just like to know what happened. The whys and wherefores I’ll leave to those who want to speculate on them.”
“It’ll stir up old gossip, that’s for sure.”
“That’s why I want to keep it quiet. Mrs. Herriot has gone on vacation for a month, so there won’t be anyone around to notice. That should be enough time. I thought Jess should know what I’m doing.”
“Of course. He’d be upset if you left him out. Looking for clues to his sister’s death was what brought him here in the first place.” Kate paused, then said, “Aunt Bunny was a wonderful swimmer. If she’d been conscious, she could surely have saved herself.”
The chill entered Megan’s heart. “That’s what I’m thinking, too. I’ll need to use the boat for a while. Is that okay?”
“I’m sure it is. Jess can bring it up to your dock when he gets in this evening, along with the police file.”
“Great. Thanks. Why don’t you and the kids come up, too? We have a ton of stuff left over from the reception still in the freezer. I can drive you home later.”
“Okay. See you around six, maybe seven.”
After Megan hung up, she showered and changed to shorts and T-shirt. Going to her grandfather’s study, she started on the bookcases first.
The ranch ledgers were stored there, dating from a hundred years ago and detailing the life of the ranch in terms of cattle sold or lost to storms, predators and disease, crops raised, including costs and selling price per bushel. Every penny earned and spent was recorded.
The records from the prior hundred years had been lost due to fire, her grandfather had once told her. The house had been rebuilt at that time.
Pausing, she studied the tatter of memory. She was sure the information had come from her grandfather before his stroke, but she didn’t know when.
She went methodically through every ledger right up to the present and found nothing unusual. No notes tucked inside any. No confessions or incriminating information. She dusted the shelves and returned the cloth-bound records to their place. By late afternoon, she’d gone through the three glass-fronted bookcases.
Surveying the massive rolltop desk with its many nooks and crannies, she really doubted she’d find anything in it that might jog her memory of the past.
The sailboat was the key. She didn’t know why she thought that, but she kept coming back to it.
Tired and dusty, she quit for the day. After washing up, she checked the time. Surprised at the lateness of the hour, she thawed wedding leftovers, little two-bite sandwiches of chicken and ham salad, which she ate along with string cheese and an apple for her supper. She put out some frozen pastry swans filled with whipped cream and several fruit tarts for Kate and her family, then put on a pot of coffee.
Hearing a boat motor on the lake, she looked out in time to see Kyle pull up to his dock and disappear into the attached boathouse. She frowned in his direction, wondering what the heck he was doing and how she could avoid him while she searched for clues.
Fear and anticipation ran through her as she thought of unlocking the door to her past. Kate worried that she would be hurt, but it was a chance she had to take.
A few minutes later, the old fishing dory that Jess and Jeremy had rescued from the barn and restored to running condition pulled up to the Windom pier. Amanda jumped out before anyone could help her, her brother hot on her heels.
“Mandy,” he said sternly, “you wait up or else I’m going to pound you.”
“You won’t really,” the five-year-old informed him with irrepressible humor. “Mom won’t let you.”
Jeremy grabbed her hand. “You’re not supposed to run on the dock. You might fall in.”
“I can swim,” she said with righteous indignation.
“Yeah, and the Loch Ness monster might eat you, too.”
“Ha.”
Amanda obviously didn’t believe in monsters. Megan smiled even as the unpredictable tears crowded her throat at the affectionate teasing. She wished their lives could always be as happy and carefree as they were at this moment.
Foreboding hummed through her, a never-forgotten melody that hinted at death and unspeakable grief.
“Hey, Megan, guess what?” Amanda demanded. “Larry Leighson lost his front two teeth. He looks yucky.”
Larry had been Amanda’s man of the moment prior to this misfortune. “It happens,” Megan said sympathetically. “Next year your teeth will start falling out, too.”
“I bet the tooth fairy leaves me a whole dollar. Larry only got two quarters and a book.”
“Wow. That was pretty nice. I never got more than one quarter.”
“Oh.” Amanda paused, checked her front two teeth and looked disappointed that neither was loose.
Megan hid a smile as Jeremy rolled his eyes. She greeted Jess and Kate. “Thanks for bringing the boat.”
“Here’s the folder,” he said, handing over the information she’d requested. “So you want to check over the sailboat? Are you going to try to bring it up?”
“Well, I’m not sure about that. I mean, how would you go about it?”
Jess pushed a lock of unruly hair off his forehead. “Use a compressor to blow air into the hull and force out the water. That’s what we did on marine rescue.”
Megan was startled by this information. “Kyle Herriot was asking about a compressor at the feed store last week.”
Jess looked more than a little interested. “Hmm, maybe he’s going to try to float her to the top. With two boats, you could probably pull her in to the dock if you get her up, even if the hole is below the waterline.”
“Oh, really?”
This possibility hadn’t occurred to Megan. However, it obviously had to her close-mouthed neighbor. Now all his “fishing” trips made sense. He was after the wreck, too, and she didn’t like his sneaky way of going about it.
But, in all fairness, his father had been involved. If he was searching, too, then maybe they should join forces. Later, when they found out the truth, or all that they could about the tragedy, then they could part ways and forget each other’s existence.
Uneasiness washed over her. Kyle Herriot might be a hard man to forget. Their lives were entangled on an elemental level that involved their families over two generations. Maybe it was unwise to add a third generation to the mix.
For the next hour, she and Jess and Kate discussed the known facts concerning the sailing incident, plus ways and means to bring the vessel to the surface so they could study it up close. Jess wanted to be in on the latter part.
Megan promised him that if she succeeded, he would be the first to know. After all, Bunny had been his beloved older sister, the one who had practically raised him while his mom had had to work to support the family. His father had been an alcoholic and drifter.
After driving them home in the old station wagon, Megan returned to her house. Its loneliness rushed out to greet her when she entered the door to the mud room off the kitchen. Seeing the envelope on the counter, she picked it up and hid it in a kitchen drawer.
The key to her past might lie in that envelope. She realized she was ready to face it, whatever it might be.
The air was hot and listless on Sunday afternoon when Kyle turned the key on the powerboat. The engine caught, and he eased out on the mirror-smooth surface of the lake. With the engine at half throttle—because he hoped not to attract his neighbor’s attention—he pointed the bow toward the far end of the cool waters.
He wasn’t having much luck in finding the wreck. He’d searched the dark depths in a grid pattern, but a whole week had been spent in futile exploration.
Had he known who’d done the original diving, he would look them up, but he didn’t. He could ask the sheriff, who had been the investigating officer on the case at the time, but the sheriff might mention it to Shannon, a former cop, who would surely mention it to her cousin, Megan.
He didn’t want any interference from the Windom side of the lake.
Following his grid plan, he slowed when he came to the boundary of the last search area.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
Another boat was three hundred yards away, anchored next to a huge slab of granite that jutted from the water like a monolith to some ancient god. Angling around, he glided over to it.
“Hey,” he called.
His voice echoed off the cliffs at the edge of the lake and came back to him. With an irritated curse, he pulled alongside the slab. He tossed the anchor out, then tied a line around a handy boulder. He climbed out of the boat and walked along the granite slab to the other boat that had a small motor mounted on the recently replaced transom.
Looking over the old dory for clues to its ownership, he spied a cooler and a backpack. Sneakers and socks lay on the bottom of the fishing boat. A long-sleeved shirt lay on the plank seat. They were on the small side.
Probably a boy exploring on his own. What was Kate’s stepson’s name? Jeremy. Yeah. Jeremy Fargo. But he’d never seen the boy out without other members of his family.
Where the hell was the person?
Bubbles preceded an answer to that question. A head broke the surface of the water. Through a snorkeling mask, Megan Windom’s eyes locked with his.
She removed the mask. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured, “and look who’s here.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, ignoring her snide attempt at humor.
Without answering, she kicked her way over to the slab, then tossed the mask and flippers out before climbing up on the granite. “Mm, this feels good. The rock is warm.”
Heat pulsed through him when she stretched out and closed her eyes against the sun. She was dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, high-cut on the sides. Her legs went from here to forever, long, lean and shapely. There were faint tan lines at her ankles and high on her thighs.
The heat became an inferno. He was aware of the tight discomfort of his swim trunks under his jeans. The reaction increased his annoyance.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
She opened her eyes a slit. Shading them with an arm over her forehead, she studied him for a long minute. “I’m doing what you suspect,” she said coolly.
He wondered if that was true. Without admitting anything, he drawled, “Then we’re both out for a leisurely cruise of the lake.”
“Right. The way you’ve been all week.”
So she’d known of his prior trips. Damn. Looking into her frank and somewhat hostile gaze, he made an instant decision. “I’m looking for the wreck.”
“The sailboat?” she said with only a slight questioning inflection.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “To reclaim what once belonged to my family. I’m thinking of restoring it.”
“You want to study it,” she corrected, her tone as icy as a winter wind off the mountains. Her gaze challenged him to deny it.
There was an honesty in her that he hadn’t expected. It forced him to answer just as candidly. “The thought had occurred to me.”
Instead of objecting, she became introspective. “Jess is interested, too. Bunny was his sister.”
“Jimmy was my father. The boat was his.” He figured that gave him first priority.
“Bunny was my mother.”
“There is that,” he conceded.
She was silent for a long minute, then said, “Okay, I’ll work with you.”
This was a development he hadn’t foreseen. He didn’t want any interference. “No way.”
“It’ll save you time.”
“How?”
She smiled. “I know where the wreck is.”
Glancing at the water, he returned the smile. “So do I…now. What brings you out here at this late date?”
“Curiosity,” she said easily. “I want to see whatever there is to see.”
He realized the same feelings drove her that drove him. But to work together? It was a volatile mixture in more ways than one.
“Why are you searching now?” she asked. “It’s been a long time.”
He decided on maximum honesty. “Your grandfather is gone. My mother’s on a trip. I figured no one else would care or object to my prowling around.”
“What are your plans?”
“Do some diving, locate the wreck and see what the chances are of bringing it up. The water is deepest here, around a hundred feet.”
“The boat is on a shelf. It didn’t go to the bottom.”
That was news to him. He gave her a sharp perusal. “How do you know so much?”
“Jess and I studied all the reports. The sheriff’s divers took some photos. Shannon got us copies.”
“I see.”
What he saw was more complications. He hadn’t planned on anyone else horning in. He wished he hadn’t been quite so open with his attractive neighbor. Working with her, if she really did insist on participating, was another twist he didn’t need in his life.
“I’ll get the photos to you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I want to look the wreckage over first. Before we bring in anyone else.”
Megan didn’t tell him she already had the information, or that Jess already knew about Kyle’s suspicious fishing trips. “Compressors are dangerous for a lone diver. You can inhale carbon monoxide and pass out, if that’s how you’re going to get air while you’re underwater.”
He was surprised at her knowledge. “I have air tanks. I used to dive a lot during my college days.”
“Oh.”
“I’d rather not broadcast what we’re doing until we know more about it. I don’t want my mother upset if I can prevent it.”
“Were you going to hide the sailboat, assuming you bring it up?”
“We still have the boathouse. I’d put it there until I had a chance to talk to her upon her return. I don’t want to shock her…or the community,” he added, warning her that he wanted to keep the quest strictly between them.
“I see.” She stood and went to the dory. After pulling on the shirt, she turned to him. “You’ll need a wet suit to stay down any length of time. The water’s too cold to stay in for more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”
He’d figured he could stand the cold long enough to do what he needed. However he had a buddy in California who would ship him a wet suit, if he needed one.
“So, do we work together and pool resources?” she asked.
He couldn’t figure out an argument to dissuade her. There was also the fact that she could observe his every move. Stalling for time, he nodded. “Why not?” he said.
But if he moved fast, he could get what he wanted and get the sailboat to the boathouse before she realized what was happening.
“You’ll call me when you come out here?”
Suspicion was rampant in her expression. He smiled as guilelessly as he could. “Sure. You’re right. Two can work faster than one.” He realized he’d been too cheerful when she frowned in distrust.
“I can hear any boat coming this way,” she warned.
“So can I.” But only if the wind was in the right direction off the lake. She had the advantage of him on that point. Damnation.
Nodding, she untied the dory, tossed the line into the boat and hopped in with a push to start her off. In a minute she had the motor running and was headed toward home.
Releasing a deep breath, he stripped to his trunks and dived into the chilling water. That took care of the rampant hormones that plagued him in her presence.
He made it down to the wreck in a free dive, but couldn’t stay long. She was right; the cold was mind-numbing, too dangerous for a lone diver to attempt.
So, he’d work with her as long as he had to…but whatever they found, the sailboat was his.
On Monday evening, after her last riding class was over and the chores were finished, Megan debated with herself, then picked up the telephone and dialed Kyle’s number, after looking it up in the book. Her scalp prickled as she waited for the call to go through.
He answered on the first ring.
“This is Megan. I have the police photos and the file information, if you’re interested in seeing them,” she told him in formal tones. She was irritated with him.
There was silence on the other end.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” he said in that smooth voice that reminded her of summer breezes and long summer nights. “That was fast. I thought we’d agreed not to let others in on what we were doing until we knew more.”
“I believe in acting once a decision has been made. As you apparently do, too. I saw you on the lake earlier.”
Another pause. “I see.”
“Did you do any diving this afternoon?” She wanted to let him know she was keeping an eye on him.
“No.” His tone was a chill wind off the mountain. “I was checking out the rocks in the vicinity.”
“I called you when I got information. I expect the same courtesy from you.” She was cool and crisp, businesslike.
“Yeah, sure.” He sounded distracted.
Maybe he had someone there with him and was impatient to get back to her. Feeling slightly guilty for bothering him and further irritated by the fact, she asked, “Do you want to come over tomorrow and see the photos?”
“No. I want to see them tonight. I’ll be right over.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. The moon is bright. I’ll be over in the boat in about ten minutes.”
He didn’t ask if it was a convenient time for her. He just assumed it would be okay and hung up.
Fuming, she put on some decaf coffee. Although she wasn’t feeling particularly neighborly, she still had about twenty pastry swans stuffed with whipped cream in the refrigerator. She’d offer him dessert.
After kicking off her shoes, Megan flicked on the dock lights, then sat at the kitchen table and waited. When she heard the sounds of an engine, blood pounded with unexpected ferocity throughout her body.
That was another concern to add to all the others. Nothing good had ever come of a Windom getting mixed up with a Herriot.
Chapter Four
M egan answered the door on the first knock. “Come on in. I’ve made coffee. Would you like some cream-puff swans?”
“Like those at the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I forgot about dinner.”
That information put her into a dilemma. As a good neighbor, she should offer him something to eat. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to cook for him. With a grimace, she asked if he’d like some leftovers. “There’s about a dozen of those little sandwiches left.”
“Any with the ham spread?”
“Yes.”
She placed all the remainders on a platter on the kitchen table, put out a plate, pointed out the microwave oven and told him to help himself.
He did. When he’d finished, the finger sandwiches were gone, along with the pâté, stuffed olives and some kind of veal loaf, then he polished off the last of the cream-filled swans. He finished off the glass of milk she’d also offered.
“That was good. Thanks.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Please.” He put his dishes in the dishwasher while she poured two cups of coffee.