A String of Beads (Jane Whitefield, #8)(57)

“If I stay home with my husband, what will happen to Jimmy?”

“You won’t do that. Being Jimmy’s guide is something the clan mothers require of you—that life demands of you. But you’ve got to do whatever you’re going to do soon. Time isn’t helping you.”

“That’s your advice? Hurry up?” said Jane.

“Jimmy’s enemies are getting more powerful, so you have to be quick. Follow the poisoned stream to where the spring seeps out of the ground. Find out everything you can and then do what you have to. But you have to act soon. Jimmy won’t see the man in the forest before he swings the club. You might.”

Jane woke while the sky was just lightening from black to blue gray. The stars outside the window were still bright and glowing, but she could see the leaves of the old walnut tree on the far side of the carriage house. She sat up, still naked, slid out from under the sheet, and looked down at Carey sprawled beside her. He always slept with an innocent, peaceful look on his face, especially after a night like last night. He undoubtedly had disturbing dreams sometimes, but white people didn’t study their dreams, or make much of them.

She got up and walked quietly out of the room, passed the master bathroom, and continued down the hall to one of the bathrooms attached to guest rooms and turned on the shower. The warm water felt good.

A few minutes later she saw through the glass door of the shower that he had appeared. “Dr. M.,” she said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He opened the shower door and stepped in with her. “I woke up alone and came looking for you. You’re home now, but you won’t be soon.” He sidestepped past her, ducked under the shower and got wet, then scrubbed himself with soap.

She was very still. “You know that?”

“Since I saw you in the kitchen last night I’ve been listening for you to say this was over—that Jimmy Sanders was safe and you were home for good. You haven’t said it, so it isn’t over.”

She hugged him, feeling the water spraying her back. “I’m sorry, Carey. I don’t have a choice right now.”

“I know you think that,” he said. “I was here for the beginning, the day they asked you to take this on. I didn’t like it, and I still don’t like it. Last night wasn’t the time for the argument. Is this the time?”

“I don’t think so.” She turned off the shower, took his hand, and stepped out of the stall with him. She tossed him a bath towel, took one herself, and led him into the guest room. They made love gently and then passionately, and lay lazily on the bed. After a time she could tell he was looking at her.

He leaned over her and kissed her. “You’re leaving right away, aren’t you?”

“As soon as I check the refrigerator to see what you ought to have but didn’t buy for yourself, and go to the grocery store. But when I get back, we’ll spend about three days just going from room to room doing this.”





14



Jane spent the morning preparing to leave home. She packed the clothes that she would need in a small suitcase and included her empty backpack inside, two more packets of identification and credit cards, and more cash. She walked to the nearest grocery store, which was only about a half mile down the road, bought food for Carey, and walked back. She left a bottle of eighteen-year-old Macallan single malt scotch on the kitchen table with a crystal glass to hold down her note to him. All it said was: “There are still fourteen more rooms in this house.” That would give him something to think about.

She said quietly to the empty house in Seneca, “Thank you for visiting me in my dream, grandmother. I’ll name you Keha kah je: sta e.” It was literally my black eyes.

Jane went outside, locked the door, and walked down the road to the bus stop to catch the bus to the station at Sheridan Drive and Getzville Road. She caught the rural service bus to Lockport, took another to Batavia, but got off at the Pembroke exit of the thruway. She took out her copy of the service order Ray Snow had given her when she’d left her car with him. She dialed the number she found on it and heard, “Snow’s auto.”

“Hi, Ray. This is Jane Whitefield.”

“Hey, Janie. Are you coming back for your car?”

“Well, I’m making my way there. I’ve gotten as far as the Pembroke rest stop on the thruway. I took a Greyhound.”

“Get yourself a cup of coffee. I’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“See you then.”

Twenty minutes later, she saw her white Volvo S60 coast along the exit ramp into the parking lot, and then glide up to the building. Jane tossed her suitcase on the backseat, sat down beside Ray, and fastened her seat belt. Ray smiled. “How was your hike?”

“Tiring. Thanks so much for picking me up, Ray.”

“No big deal. We do this all the time for our customers, and most of them don’t have such nice cars.” He drove toward the ramp back onto the thruway.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s about six years old.”

“Mechanics like a car that’s been cared for, and I like them better if they didn’t just come off the lot. I buy a few used ones now and then and fix them up for resale. If you ever want to get rid of this one, don’t trade it in. I’ll give you a better deal.”