Another Stab at Life Read online

  Still resting on my back, I lifted my hand to assess the cut on my wrist. A pearl of blood seemed suspended in the air and then plunged onto my forehead. I dabbed at the blood with the hem of my dress.

  I rose to my feet and looked at myself, appraising my evening dress. The goofy thing was hopelessly tattered and filthy. Oh well. Even though the dress hadn’t really done that much for my figure, it had helped save my life. I was one grateful woman.

  I finally turned my attention to the chest. There it sat, sort of glaring at me. Grimy. Tarnished. And probably empty. How apropos. I almost wanted to forget about the box now, since it had been the source of all my troubles.

  But after a few more seconds, I succumbed to my inquisitive nature and situated myself on the bed with the chest on my lap. The latch looked corroded. What did I expect? I pulled on the fastener and lifted the lid, which made the hinges moan in protest.

  Inside were permanent dividers for cash, but the only objects in the box were miscellaneous belongings: a watch, an empty perfume bottle, a photograph of a woman, a faded red hanky with embroidered edges, a tarnished key, and two stray green marbles. The twin glass balls seemed to look up at me like the eyes from the dead cat I’d found on the night of my arrival. I shivered, remembering that poor lifeless animal, now buried in my backyard. I picked up the key and held it up to the light. Hmm. I wonder what this might open. Probably just an old door key. I tossed it back inside. After removing the photo from the chest, I quickly closed the lid.

  I shook my head and sighed. There inside were the answers to so many of my questions—the finale to the greedy quest. No money. No treasure. No valuables of any kind. Just a rusty brass chest with a few mementoes. “Don’t store up treasures on earth,” I said aloud.

  As I ran my finger across the yellowed photograph, I wondered who the woman was. Could she still be alive? Did she actually sell the liquor that lined the walls of the passage? With her Victorian hair and dress, the woman certainly didn’t look like a bootlegger. I placed the photograph on my night table next to my beta fish, Liberty.

  I sighed and shook my head. The past few weeks were too staggeringly clear. Mr. Lakes, Boris and Eva Lukin, Seth, and perhaps others, had conspired to find the chest in the passage in my closet. Yet the box was mostly empty. No cash or treasure. They had won nothing. I had lost my peace of mind. It was definitely a lose-lose situation.

  What could I do? I desperately needed closure. Now. I recalled the final plot twist in my favorite mystery, Another Stab at Life, which was a bizarre cat-and- mouse story. The central character, a Realtor named Whittaker, searches for his sister who had turned up missing. After deciphering a series of clues, he is grief stricken to find his sister in an abandoned house, stabbed to death. Since they had both witnessed a recent burglary, he knows the thief will stop at nothing to kill him as well. Whittaker is soon pursued by the killer in what becomes a mysterious and deadly game. He becomes weary of being chased and desperate to see justice served for the crime against his sister, so he suddenly decides to face his foe head on. No more flight. Whittaker ends the journey—forcing a collision with the truth.

  Hmm. I like that. Of course, that method had nearly gotten the hero killed, but I still felt the technique had some merit. So why couldn’t I just give Boris and Eva a little call? Oh yeah. We could have a neighborly chat. I didn’t have the phone number, but after a trot downstairs and a call to information, I had their home number. But would the Lukins even pick up their phone since Magnolia said they never answered their door? Would they have Caller ID? Somehow I doubted it, since they used such primitive tools as Morse code and walkie-talkies.

  I scribbled some notes on a notepad to help me with my peculiar little speech. I sent up a prayer for courage and picked up the phone. One ring. Two rings. Maybe I should hang up. Three rings. Someone picked up the phone, yet no one said “hello.” I could hear the faintest breathing. Either Boris or Eva was listening.

  Okay, here goes. “Hi. This is Bailey Walker, your new next-door neighbor. The reason for my call is. . .I wanted you to know I’m not afraid anymore, and I’m not leaving. The chest was found, and it contains no money and no treasure.” I paused to catch my breath. No response came except ragged breathing.

  A woman cleared her throat on the other end of the line. Then I heard some faint arguing. She must have covered the speaker with her hand so she could hash it out with Boris.

  “We’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” the woman said in a heavy accent. “But. . .we were planning. . .to sell our house anyway. In fact, we were on our way outside to put up a For Sale sign when you interrupted us.”

  I couldn’t help but notice her haughty air sputtering and dissolving into panic. “Well, all right then.” I wasn’t sure what to say next. Eva’s statement had taken me by surprise. “Good night.” My hand shook so violently, I couldn’t get the phone back on the cradle. I steadied myself and sighed. Okay, you done good.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter and let out a long breath. I just hoped the Lukins were indeed the perpetrators. If, by some wild chance, they weren’t the offenders, and they really didn’t know what I was talking about, then the Lukins would certainly think they had a very troubled neighbor named Bailey who needed some serious psychiatric help. But even though Eva didn’t offer a confession, her voice had betrayed her.

  All of a sudden I felt like crumpling to the floor in a heap. Was it over? Surely they would give up now. I decided to celebrate prematurely with some coffee. Yes, a big honking stay-awake-all-night pot of French roast. I intended to stay up just in case there was a momentous event—the unveiling of the For Sale sign on the front lawn of my inimitable neighbors, Boris and Eva Lukin. I laughed out loud. Hadn’t done that in a while in my own home. It felt good to seize the day.

  Later, as I poured myself some steaming coffee from the pot, I let my mind wander back to the dark passageway. Dangling in that shadowy space had reminded me of something. Oh yeah. Like the way my life had looked over the past couple of years. Without friends and family, or love and hope. But I’ve opened my heart a little, God. Haven’t I? Isn’t that what you and Granny teamed up to do?

  But really, I’d experienced so much more than just a fissure in my hard, cynical heart. I’d learned to trust once more. To truly love again. I could no longer keep my feelings buried. I loved Max. I love him with my whole heart. In fact, I felt the urge to tell him now— tell the whole world right this very minute. What time was it? I didn’t really care. I would fix up a little and then go over to tell him the news. But he loves me with messy hair and dirty clothes. What beautiful words. The time was now.

  I slipped on my shoes, thinking of his endearing smile as he would wake up and wonder why I’d come. Just as I turned to leave, I noticed a tall figure in my backyard, illuminated by the ornamental lights. Not at all the boy, Seth, I’d seen before. Funny, it almost looked like Max. I moved closer to the kitchen window. It was indeed Max. But why? What was he doing in my backyard at this time of night? He was in bed. Wasn’t he?

  I wanted to rush into Max’s arms, but something held me back. Instead of going to him, I watched this man I loved as he searched the ground. What was he looking for—the two-way radio? But I hadn’t even told him about the walkie-talkie. Then a thought came to me that was too terrifying to believe. Had Max been involved with the Lukins’ plan all along? And what about Dedra? Was she caught up in the deceit as well?

  Perhaps they would still believe there was a treasure, and they wouldn’t give up or let anyone stop them. Had Granny somehow been in the way and had to be silenced? Had I come to this place, lonely and afraid, only to land in a nest of treachery and murder?

  23 – Please Catch Me

  I steadied myself against the counter, thinking I might pass out. No, God. Please don’t let it be. But even as I prayed, words of accusation filled my head.

  I balled my fingers into a fist so tightly I winced, but the twinge of pain was nothing compared to what
I felt as I stared out into the night. Another love would be lost. Another trust broken. This time, I knew, I would never recover.

  Max picked up what looked like a notebook. He didn’t even bother looking around to see if he was being watched. I suddenly felt ashamed, wondering if I’d jumped to conclusions. Had the multitude of mysteries I’d read somehow distorted my perception of reality? Had I given up on trust and love so easily? What was I made of anyway—paper and air? No more, Bailey. I will take this leap of faith before I know all the answers. Even if I’m dead wrong. I’m leaping, God. Please catch me! I unlocked the door and rushed outside toward Max.

  He opened his arms. “Bailey. What’s happened? Did Sam do this to you?” His voice held concern mingled with anger.

  I shook my head and clung to Max. I noticed he had on PJs and no shoes. He must have left in a hurry. “I can see a bit of your backyard from my bedroom window,” Max said. “I thought I saw someone back here. I thought it might be Sam.” He gently pulled me away to look into my eyes. “Why didn’t you answer the phone or the door earlier? I got so worried, I almost called the police.”

  There was such love, such tenderness and concern in Max’s voice, I knew that the emotion I’d been holding back was about to blow. The passion of my sentiments—the absolute relief—started with a single tear and then turned into a real gusher. But instead of making me feel childish, Max stroked my head and said all manner of soothing things until I could calm down. Nothing had ever felt so good. All the doubts and fears ended right there. “Thank you, Max,” I whispered.

  “Now will you tell me what happened to you? You’ve got blood on your face. And look what I found. A notebook in your backyard with the name Seth on it.”

  “Seth is a boy. And now I’m beginning to think he wants to be caught. Maybe he got tired of the game.”

  Max looked at me with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment.

  “I have some things I need to tell you. But first, I need to look at the Lukins’ front yard.”

  “You mean Eva and Boris?” Max asked. “Why?” “Humor me.” I touched his cheek. “I have to know if they’ve put out a For Sale sign.”

  “I’ve always hoped they would move, but what makes you think they might?”

  Max did humor me. We walked down the sidewalk and peeked around the trees and shrubbery, which separated our properties. I gasped when I saw Boris busily hammering a For Sale sign into their front lawn. Eva was shouting at him in her native tongue. Apparently, Boris had gotten the sign crooked. I nodded, satisfied, so we headed back inside.

  “Now will you please tell me why we needed to see that?” Max looked amused and curious.

  “Max, I have a lot to tell you. I just made a pot of coffee. Want some?”

  “Got decaf?” Max asked.

  “No.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Now that’s love.” I poured Max a steaming mug of coffee and began my tale from the very beginning. “Well, it all started with a passage.”

  “You mean the hole you talked about. . .where your grandmother left you the money?”

  “Yes, that’s it. But there’s a bit more there than just a hole.” We both sat down, and I explained the passage in detail.

  Max glanced up. “The jars still have moonshine in them?”

  “Some do,” I said.

  Max’s face flooded with surprise. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Incredible. So, when are you going to show me this amazing closet?”

  “Tonight, if you’d like. But I still have a great deal to explain.” Then I told Max about the walkie-talkies, the ants on the wall over the mantle, Mr. Lakes, Seth, the Lukins, the chest, and every other detail I could think of along the way that I hadn’t told him before. I even mentioned my strange encounter with Annie.

  When the pot of coffee had been drained and I’d gone through my long and arduous account, Max raked his hand through his hair. “No wonder your grandmother hired me to watch out for you. She knew you needed it.”

  I smiled.

  “Why didn’t you tell me everything that was going on?”

  “I wish I had now. Oh, I’m so sorry, Max. I promise I won’t do that again. Will you ever forgive me?”

  He huffed a bit and then sighed. “You are exasper- ating, Bailey Marie Walker. But you figured it all out on your own. Amazing. All of it. I’m so proud of you.” Max pulled me into a hug. “But I still think we should have called the police.”

  I grinned again. More warmly this time. Things were going better than I’d hoped. And someday when the time was right, I’d tell Max about the suspicions and doubts I’d courted and how some of them had gotten absurdly out of control. But not right now. The time had come for something else. “Max. I love you. I should have said it before. I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Love and cherish. The whole thing. Marry me, please.”

  Max appeared stunned. Like I’d done something he’d never expected.

  “You haven’t changed your mind?” I suddenly felt anxious. “Have you?” In spite of the blood, sweat, and tears, Max kissed me thoroughly. And I thoroughly enjoyed kissing him back.

  Max snuggled in my hair and neck. “Maybe we could get married tomorrow.”

  He sat down on a chair, and I sat on his lap as if I belonged there. Which I did.

  “Hey.” Max hugged me to him.

  “Hey, yourself.” I touched his face. A little scratchy, but who was I to talk? My dress was dirty and torn, my hair had become a nest for vermin, and my makeup had melted down to my chin. Not a pretty sight.

  “Well, you’ve been through quite a bit today,” Max said. “I’ll have another story to tell our kids. . .which they will never believe.” He dampened a napkin and gently wiped the dirt and blood off my face.

  I smiled most genuinely at Maxwell Sumner, the man who I’d marry. Out of the blue, I thought of my huge set of Fostoria dishes Granny had left me—the ones I was convinced I’d never use. With the size of Max’s family, I’d have to dust them off and learn how to cook in army-sized portions. Maybe Granny had planned the whole thing right down to the dishes.

  “And so when do you want to marry?” Max took my hands in his.

  I wiped the September heat from my brow. “Some- time when it’s not so humid. So my hair won’t droop and my skin won’t be covered with this. . .slimy film.”

  “Trust me,” Max said. “You’ll get used to the humidity here. After awhile it feels more like. . .a warm comforting bath.”

  I gave Max an imploring expression.

  “Okay. I know you brides like to keep fresh, so we sometimes get our first cool front in say. . .late September.”

  “But that’s right away. How about a wedding around Thanksgiving? I have a lot to be thankful for.”

  “Okay,” Max said. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  I did indeed like the way I felt in Max’s arms. Couldn’t imagine ever tiring of it. “So I guess the deal Granny made with you is off. You’re no longer my brother-type guy friend watching out for me?”

  “Right. Now I’ll be your husband-type guy friend watching out for you.”

  I nodded. “I think I can handle it.” I reached up and touched Max’s hair, moving a lock or two out of place. “You know, if Granny were here, I’d tell her you did a good job finding me a husband.” Max chuckled.

  Then I reminded him I expected a delivery of my engagement ring early the next morning. I guess he liked the idea, because we celebrated our appointment with another slow kiss.

  In spite of the day’s rip-roaring ride, I fell into bed with the most serene and glorious emotions. I was now officially Max’s one and only. Guess we’d have to carve our initials in that old oak after all.

  As I snuggled into the goosey softness of my bed, I glanced over at Granny’s sack of seeds on the night table. Tomorrow morning I thought I might try planting a few of those seeds. See how they’d grow.

  Sudde
nly, a few lines of Granny’s letter came to mind. Her simple declaration had rung true like a clear sounding bell, and I knew I would encourage my own children with the same words someday. Always talk to the One who created you. Even when things seem too dark or too impossible. He’s the God of redemption and of love. In fact, He’s watching out for you, even now.

  I turned over and gazed at my little beta friend in the pink glow of the nightlight. He sort of boogied around in the bowl, and if he were capable of smiling back at me, I think he just might do that. “Sweet dreams, Liberty.”

  Epilogue

  Boris and Eva procured a Realtor the very next day. I decided not to press charges, even though the Lukins did turn out to be the masterminds behind all the dark deeds. Boris and Eva sold their house in record time and then decided to return to their homeland, which was a village in the heart of Transylvania.

  Mr. Lakes, Granny’s attorney, who’d been paid by the Lukins to dispense bits of information concerning my comings and goings, disappeared suddenly and was never seen again.

  Max and I found Seth Martin in my backyard the morning after our engagement. Apparently, the ten- year-old Seth had become concerned about visiting juvenile detention, so he came clean. Seth had agreed to help the Lukins frighten me into selling my home. Boris and Eva intended to buy Volstead Manor and then find and split the so-called bootleg treasure. Except for my inheritance from Granny, no fortune or jewels were discovered in the passage.

  Because of my growing curiosity in knowing how the Lukins came to find out about the treasure, we questioned Seth further and discovered Eva Lukin had overheard someone speaking of it. Seth claimed Eva never saw the man she’d overheard, since she was busy hiding behind a cedar tree as the man talked on a cell phone. In our inquiry, we also learned that Seth was a distant relative of the Lukins, which may have been why Boris and Eva trusted Seth to join their scheme.