Midnight in Christmas River Page 13

At first, I thought it was a noble thing for Ashcroft to do. But then Daniel pointed out that if Ashcroft pursued charges, it would have most likely come out in court that he’d plagiarized the first book in his series. Meaning that dropping the charges was really in his best interest.

  “So, um, what can I do for you, Ashcroft?”

  He smiled a little sadly.

  “Well, first you can stop calling me that.”

  He leaned forward, reaching a hand out toward me.

  “My real name is Travis,” he said. “Travis Leeland.”

  Travis.

  The name was so mundane and run-of-the-mill, it struck me as funny.

  I took his hand and shook it.

  “Nice to meet you finally, Travis. What can I—”

  “I have little time, Cinnamon,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m leaving Christmas River today. I decided to skip out on the lease early.”

  “Really?” I said, a little surprised.

  “Yes. I think it’s for the best. But I wanted to stop by and thank you for your help this month,” he said. “For your husband’s help, too. I know that… that I wasn’t easy to work with.”

  “It’s okay. We were just glad to help.”

  He smiled again, fighting with the muscles in his face, as if he’d forgotten how to do it.

  “So, uh, what are you going to do now?” I asked.

  “I have a flight out of PDX to New York this morning,” he said. “And I have a meeting with Don Wharton.”

  He gazed at me for a long, silent moment.

  “I’m telling him, Cinnamon. I’m telling them all. The truth about the series. And if the publishers won’t help me make it right, then I’m going to the press and telling them.”

  A surge of relief swept through me.

  “It’s the right thing. I see that so clearly now. They need to know about Grant. They need to know that it’s his genius in these books — not mine.”

  I reached forward, squeezing his hands.

  “That’s a brave decision, Ashcroft.”

  “Travis,” he corrected.

  “Travis,” I said.

  A moment later, I heard the faint sound of a honk coming from Main Street.

  “That’ll be my ride,” he said. “Thank you again, Cinnamon. Your assistance was… What I mean is that you really helped me.”

  The horror author backed away, heading out the door, down the back steps, and around the side of the pie shop.

  Curiosity got the better of me. A moment later, I was running through the dining room, heading for the front window.

  I peeked through the blinds, watching as Travis slid into the passenger’s seat of a red Jaguar.

  I smiled.

  I didn’t know whether the two of them were still on the track to divorce.

  But I did know that now at least they might still have a chance.

  A few seconds later, the Jaguar pulled away down Main Street.

  And Ashcroft Black was gone for good.

  Chapter 41

  I stepped into the barn, blinking hard as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights.

  Though the building looked exactly the same as the previous two times I’d been here, there was something different about the place this time. For a while, I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  But then it came to me.

  Metallica still played from the speakers, but the guitar thrashing was turned down low and wasn’t shredding my ear drums like before. The music had been lowered to a reasonable decibel.

  I scanned the room, my eyes falling on Josiah.

  He was standing over the workbench, a fine-tooth saw in his hand. He was carving a sizable gourd, and his tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth in such a way that reminded me of how young he actually was.

  I headed toward the table, carrying the aluminum foil-wrapped plate at my side. He heard my footsteps and glanced up.

  “Oh, hey, Cinnamon. I was just heading over to your shop this afternoon with the pumpkins. I hope there wasn’t any confusion about—”

  “No, no — I just thought I’d save you the trouble and pick them up myself,” I said.

  I walked over, standing next to him, looking at the pumpkin he was working on.

  “Is that one of mine?” I asked.

  A child-like grin illuminated his face.

  “Here, I’ll show you.”

  He grabbed a lighter and lit a couple of tea light candles inside the gourd. Then he went over to the far wall and turned off the lights, plunging the old barn into darkness.

  I couldn’t say anything for a full minute after seeing the glowing pumpkin.

  Because it wasn’t just a pattern carved into a gourd — it was a true work of art. Josiah had carved a view of my pie shop from across Main Street, including the homey sign over the door, the front window display filled with pies, and the aspen grove right outside. He’d even included a woman who looked just like me standing out front in an apron, holding a pie and smiling.

  The level of detail was astounding.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I think this is the best pumpkin I’ve ever seen, Josiah,” I said, still winded. “You’re an artist, you know that?”

  He didn’t say anything, but when he went over to the far wall and finally hit the light switch, I could see his cheeks had turned rosy.

  “I’ve got your other ones over here,” he said. “I’ll load them into your car.”

  I nodded, glancing down at the plate in my hands.

  The pumpkin had so floored me, I’d just about forgotten why I’d come here in the first place.

  “Oh — that reminds me — I brought you these,” I said, handing him the plate.

  It wasn’t quite as many Sour Cream Apple turnovers as I’d planned on bringing. But I figured he’d appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

  “I wanted to thank you for your help with Ashcroft Black,” I said. “And, uh, also to apologize for accusing you of being involved.”

  He took the plate, nodding.

  “I appreciate it,” he said. “But I hardly did anything. It was the spirit that helped. Not me.”

  I didn’t know if it was the gust of wind that wound its way through the barn at that exact moment or what Josiah had said about the spirit, but the hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.

  “It must be… it must be hard,” I stammered. “Doing what you do.”

  “I was born with this… whatever you want to call it. Gift,” he said. “It’s the only way I know how to live. I’ve been dealing with it my whole life.”

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “And you’re right — it has been hard. That’s why I stopped helping the police. But seeing the spirits isn’t the difficult part for me. That part’s easy. It’s no different than talking to a live person.”

  He drew in a deep breath, looking down at the ground.

  “What’s hard for me to accept are the things that happened to these spirits when they were alive. Hearing their stories… there’s so much brutality in the world, Cinnamon. So much pain. And from what I’ve seen in my life, so little justice.”

  He hesitated before speaking again.

  “You know, part of the reason I moved here was to get away. To hide from all of it. I isolated myself in this barn, trying to keep them out. But I’ve been thinking maybe it’s not my decision to make. And maybe I’m judging things without seeing the whole picture. Maybe my job isn’t to judge.

  “Maybe my job is just to help.”

  I paused, thinking about it for a long moment.

  Then I nodded.

  “Maybe in the end, that’s all any of us can do, Josiah,” I said. “Try to help others with the gifts we’ve been given.”

  His lips turned up just a little at that.

  An awkward silence fell over the barn then, and I cleared my throat.

  I felt foolish about it, and even a little scared, but there’d been so
mething I’d come to the barn today to ask Josiah. Something that had been on my mind ever since Mavis confirmed his abilities.

  Something personal.

  “I…”

  I stuttered, searching for the words.

  I gulped hard. Josiah gazed back at me, waiting to hear more.

  I cleared my throat, shifting my weight between my legs. Trying to ask the question.

  But in the end, I chickened out and didn’t ask about her.

  “I… I bet that Daniel would be glad to have your help,” I said. “You know, on Sheriff’s Department cases. He was really impressed with your abilities.”

  Josiah’s eyes lingered on me for a long second. Then he smiled.

  “Tell him if he needs me, I’ll be here.”

  I smiled back weakly, then nodded.

  Maybe there would be another time for that question.

  “Well, I guess I better get going.”

  “I’ll take these to your car,” he said, picking up the first of the carved pumpkins.

  We walked out of the barn into the bright October sunshine, and I led him to the Escape parked on the lane. He placed the pumpkin in the trunk and then shuttled the three others to the car. I closed up the trunk, shook his hand, and opened the driver’s door.

  “Thanks for coming by,” he said.

  “Sure thing. And don’t be a stranger, Josiah. Come down to the pie shop some time. There’ll be a slice of pie waiting there with your name on it.”

  I slid into the driver’s seat, starting up the engine

  “Sounds nice,” he said, resting his hands on the edge of the unrolled window. “But to tell you the truth, I’m just excited about those apple turnovers you brought me. I’ve heard great things about them — that they’re something to really be proud of.”

  Word sure got around fast in a small town, I thought.

  “Well I hope they live up to the praise,” I said. “And I hope to see you soon, Josiah.”

  I smiled one last time at him, then pulled away down the country lane.

  It wasn’t until I was halfway back to the pie shop that I understood what he was really trying to say.

  And what it meant.

  I smiled, feeling my eyes flood with tears.

  I hadn’t had the courage to ask it, but he’d answered my question, anyway.

  Chapter 42

  “Krampus drinking Kolsch, you gave me quite a fright, Cinny Bee!” Warren said, sucking in a deep breath and clutching his chest. “Just what in the heck are you doing prowling around back here in that get-up?”

  I stepped out of the brewhouse freezer room, lugging a keg of pumpkin beer along with me.

  I supposed if I’d been in Warren’s shoes, I might have given myself a scare, too. After all, finding a skeleton in your brewhouse wasn’t exactly something you came to expect.

  “Sorry about that, old man. I was just trying to help. Aileen said you guys needed another keg up at the front.”

  It was early in the evening, with the sun starting to sink low in the sky, and folks were just beginning to show up to the pub in their Halloween garb. Daniel was on his way and would be here any minute.

  It’d been the perfect Halloween day — warm and windy, with colorful leaves blowing all over the place.

  I set the keg down for a moment and peered at my grandfather.

  “Did I scare you bad?”

  “No, no. Just didn’t expect anybody to be back here, is all. And anyway, I suppose it’s payback for that little leg pulling about the Juniper Hollow Cabin that I gave you a couple weeks ago.”

  I smiled, and he peered at me.

  “Say… nice costume, Cinny Bee. You look great.”

  Usually, every Halloween I dressed up as a witch. But this Halloween, I felt like coming to Warren’s brewpub party as something a little different. I settled on a sort of Day of the Dead-inspired skeleton lady. It wasn’t an original idea, but I’d had plenty of fun painting my face and dressing up. The costume was a nice change for me, and I was glad I’d decided to try something new.

  “Thanks, old man. But just what are you supposed to be?”

  Warren was wearing his usual flannel shirt, jeans, and beige boots. There wasn’t a lick of Halloween anywhere on him — something unusual for him considering he enjoyed celebrating the holidays to their fullest.

  “You can’t tell?”

  I furrowed my brow, then shook my head.

  “I’m a 25-year-old in an old man’s body,” he said with a rakish grin.

  I laughed.

  “But that’s not a costume, that’s your everyday life, old man.”

  He shrugged, reaching forward and picking up the keg so expertly, it gave me pause to wonder if there really was a 25-year-old in there.

  “I guess you’re right at that, Cinny Bee.”

  We headed out of the brewhouse and into the pub which was getting increasingly crowded with each passing minute.

  “Say, I meant to tell you — the neatest thing happened to me this morning,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  He set the keg down behind the bar and leaned toward me.

  “Yeah. I came downstairs this morning, and what do I find sitting here on the bar top but this pumpkin.”

  He nodded to the extra-large gourd sitting at the end of the bar now for all to see. It glowed with the words “Geronimo Brewing Co.” carved in horror movie-style lettering, along with an image of Warren holding up a pint of beer.

  It was uncanny how well Josiah had captured Warren’s likeness.

  “I mean, at first it creeped me out a little — it showing up here like that out of the blue,” Warren said. “But it’s just so neat looking. You wouldn’t know anything about where it came from, would you Cinny Bee?”

  Warren eyed me, and I could tell that he already knew the answer to that.

  But I played dumb anyway.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t know a thing about it.”

  Warren stared long and hard at the pumpkin.

  “Well, it’s obvious what that means, Cinny Bee.”

  “What does it mean, old man?”

  He paused for dramatic effect.

  “That your old grandpappy has got himself a secret admirer, that’s what!”

  I laughed, taking a seat at the bar.

  He had an admirer, all right.

  I just wasn’t so secret about it most of the time.

  Chapter 43

  “I lied to you, Cin.”

  Daniel filled my mug with another helping of hot whiskey cider and handed it to me before taking a seat in the Adirondack chair. He gave Chadwick, who was lying in the grass at his feet, a few good pets.

  “About what?” I said, reaching forward and stoking the fire with a gnarled twig.

  After staying at the brewpub for a while and enjoying the ghoulishly fun festivities, Daniel and I had snuck out early to come home and enjoy a nice evening in with the pooches. The trick-or-treaters were petering out, and though it had been fun answering the door and seeing all of their wonderful and creative costumes, I’d been looking forward to this part of the night. The part when we could just sit by our backyard campfire in peace, drink cider, eat dessert, and spend quality time together.

  “Well, remember when you asked whether anything paranormal had ever happened to me before?”

  I nodded.

  Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

  “And remember how I said no? That nothing had ever happened?”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Well, that wasn’t true.”

  I leaned forward in the wood chair, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, ready to listen. My movement caused Huckleberry to adjust his sleeping position at my feet.

  Daniel paused, as if he was trying to find the right words. The fire crackled, and a series of embers shot up into the velvet blue night sky.

  “It was about 17 years ago,” he said, gripping his mug of hot cider. “You know tha
t convenience store where my brother was killed?”

  I bit my lip and then nodded.

  Daniel’s older brother Jared had been shot and killed in a convenience store in California when Daniel was a teenager. Jared had gone in to the store, not knowing he was walking into a robbery going wrong.

  “Well, the fastest way to the police academy from where I lived back then meant passing the gas mart where Jared was murdered. Which meant that every morning and every night, I went about ten minutes out of my way to and from school just to avoid the place.”

  Daniel stroked the stubble on his chin, staring at the fire for a long while.

  “But I remember this one morning, on my way to the academy, I was just driving kind of absentmindedly. And I suddenly realized that I had taken the fast way — the way that passed by the convenience store. I nearly did a U-turn across six lanes of rush hour traffic when I realized that, but then I decided, no — I needed to suck it up and face that place like a man. I needed to stop avoiding it like I was scared. Because I guess on some level, I was. I was afraid of facing my emotions about Jared’s death.”

  From somewhere out in the woods, an owl let out a low hoot, as if on cue.

  I pulled the soft fleece blanket I was under tighter around my body. I stroked Huckleberry’s fur.

  “So I get to the block where the gas mart is, and I take in a big breath and hold back from jamming my foot against the pedal. And I’m about to pass the convenience store when…”

  Daniel paused again, the color fading from his face slightly.

  He shook his head.

  “I swear, Cin. To this day I don’t know what really happened. But right as I’m passing the store, in the oncoming lane, I see…”

  He trailed off again, his voice growing thick with emotion.

  “I see a blue Chevy truck — same as the one Jared used to have. And in the driver’s seat, I swear to you, I saw—”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “I could have sworn it was him. It was Jared, Cin. Same dark hair and same thick eyebrows and same nose as me. And you know what else? He was smiling. Like… like he didn’t have a care in the world. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him that happy before.”