stretched as tall as I could and began wiping the chimney and hearth. I was exhausted by the time dark rolled around, but at least the stones sparkled with new life in the glow of my work lamp. Another day I’d borrow a ladder and clean all the way to the ceiling that soared above. While I was up there, I’d change the bulbs in the light fixture. For now, I called it quits and went to bed early, looking forward to meeting with Missy and the Belmont kids the next day in Manistique.
The sun hadn’t even considered rising yet when I heard my cell phone ringing somewhere down in the kitchen. I jumped up and careened groggily down the staircase. Maybe it was Brad. He hadn’t forgotten about me.
“Hello?” My lips were thick from sleep.
“This is Ted from General Heating calling you back.”
My heart shriveled. Brad had forgotten me after all. I cradled my forehead in my hand and leaned against the counter. “Thanks for calling, Ted.” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I’ve got a big old cottage on Valentine’s Lane that needs a whole new approach to heating. I’m hoping you’ll have some good ideas.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Normally I would.” His voice became curt and gruff. “But I don’t do business with drug dealers.”
I looked around the kitchen to see if there was someone else in the room that he could possibly be talking to. “Excuse me? My name is Patricia Amble and I just moved up here.”
“I know who you are. Tell your granddad to get one of his buddies to help you out. I don’t get involved in that stuff.” The line clicked and went silent.
Okay. I’ll tell my granddad as soon as I meet him for the first time, I thought to myself as I flung my phone on the counter. Of all the family skeletons I’d imagined, drug dealers hadn’t been among them. I yawned and rubbed at my eyes. As long as I was awake, I might as well make coffee and get the day started.
The last Sinclair donut became breakfast as the sun lit the icy landscape outside the kitchen window. Six donuts. Six days. The sugary bear claw wasn’t the only thing getting stale. I couldn’t wait to meet Missy at noon. I had to get out of this house. I’d grown accustomed to a social life my last months in Rawlings. Being trapped behind four walls just wasn’t working for me anymore.
I showered, dressed, and put on my regimen of light makeup, then frittered around to pass the time. About 11:00 a.m., I’d had enough. I started up the SUV and came back inside while it warmed.
A corner closet held a broom. I swept the kitchen floor. I gathered dirt into a central pile, deciding to spend the rest of the day exploring Manistique. Maybe I’d come across some of the places Brad told me about. I remembered how pleasantly surprised I’d been to find out he’d visited the Upper Peninsula—and loved it. I simply couldn’t wait to try the pizza at Buddy’s Pub, drop in at the Olive Branch gift shop, and browse the books at Merchant’s Pointe Deli. Some of the other things Brad mentioned, like tackling the rocky jetty in Manistique Harbor to get to the lighthouse and strolling the boardwalk in the moonlight, would have to wait until summer.
I found the dustpan under the cupboard and swept the pile in. Somehow not having Brad around to share my new experiences dampened my enthusiasm. But I’d thought that through before I moved. Back in Rawlings, Brad taught me a lot about taking time to enjoy God’s creation. And now I went for walks, went to town, and even went to church. He’d helped me start a whole new batch of great habits. I could keep up the routine even without him. I’d gone for one walk already this week, hadn’t I? I rubbed the bruise on my backside. That walk might have ended on a less brutal note if Brad had been with me.
I stowed my cleaning tools, locked the back door in opposition to Ethyl Merton’s shaky advice, and started the drive to Manistique. The trees along US-2 looked like they’d sprouted crystals. Soon the forest gave way to Lake Michigan. Turbulent black waters beat against mounds of ice along the shoreline. Towers of spray shot up at random and settled atop the wall of white. A few minutes later, houses cropped up on the narrow strip of snow- covered dunes between the highway and the lake. I crossed the bridge over the Manistique River and took the first left. After three blocks of quaint shop fronts, I came to the high school. I navigated into the parking lot and took a space reserved for public library patrons. I snatched my purse and headed in, excited for a lunch date, minus the food, with my new friend.
Teens peered out at me as I walked past their classrooms. I found the library entrance halfway down the hallway. I entered and passed between the stanchions of a security device, surprised to see the sophisticated system in a U.P. town. But, it was the twenty-first century, even in the Upper Peninsula. Although it seemed like a hundred years since I had last been up here, it was reassuring to know that time hadn’t totally passed the place by.
I paused to get my bearings. A bank of computers filled the center of the large, square room. Tall shelves with numeric and alphabetic guides on the ends took up the right side. And straight ahead, past the librarian’s desk, was the modestly proportioned children’s section. Through the racks, I could make out the back of Missy’s shoulder-length hair. I smiled at the sweet older gal manning the desk on my way by. I rounded a bookcase and stepped into the kids’ section. Missy sat at a child-sized table, flipping through the pages of Curious George with Hannah. Andrew slept peacefully in his car seat next to them on the floor.
Hannah looked up at me as I approached. “Mommy, that lady’s here.”
I smiled. “How are you today, Hannah?”
She ducked her head into the book. Missy barely turned to greet me.
“Thanks for coming,” she whispered.
I circled the table and slid into a seat made for a bottom half the size of mine. I met Missy’s eyes across the Formica top. She looked wiped out. Her eyes were puffy and she’d used heavy makeup to hide the dark circles under them. Her blush had been over-applied, making one cheekbone look almost purple.
I squinted and leaned closer. “Is that a bruise on your face?” The words spewed out before I could add any tact.
Hannah looked up from her book. Missy’s fingers rose to cover the dark spot.
She bent forward and whispered to the girl. “Hannah, honey, why don’t you go find some more stories we can take home with us?”
The four-year-old placed Curious George on a stack on the table and wandered over to a kiddy pool filled with picture books. She gave a long look in our direction before scrounging for new reading material.
Missy slumped and closed her eyes. A tear slid down one cheek. She struggled with her breathing before finally looking up at me.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make him stop.”
“Did your husband do that to you?” I asked. My hand made a move to touch the bruise, but I pulled back, not wanting to make a scene with Hannah so near by.
Missy nodded. “It’s been going on for years. I watched my mom put up with it. But I want it to stop.” Her shoulders shook and her voice croaked. “I don’t want Hannah to think it’s something she has to live with.”
I peeked over toward the pool. Hannah skimmed blissfully through some illustrations. My eyes watered as I turned back to Melissa. “Why don’t you leave him?” I asked.
“I’ve threatened to. But he swore I’d never see the kids again, if he didn’t kill me first.”
“There has to be a women’s shelter in the area. You’ve got the kids. You could go today. He’d never know. He’d never find you.”
She sobbed silently into one hand. “I wish I could. But he would find me.” She exhaled sarcastically. “My own father would probably help him. Between the two of them, they wouldn’t stop until I was back with Drake. He’d want to make sure I wouldn’t tell about the marijuana he grows and the sick friends he sells it through.”
I swallowed hard. I recalled what happened back in Rawlings when someone else had tried to turn over a new leaf at the expense of a career criminal. She’d ended up buried under the concrete in my basement. All the details of the villain’s devious life would have died with her, if I hadn’t somehow ended up unearthing the body, nearly costing me my own life.
“Don’t you know anybody who could help you? Don’t you have somewhere to go?” I asked. The last thing I wanted was to be in the bad graces of some Port Silvan drug ring.
Her eyebrows rippled. “That’s why I’m talking to you. Your grandfather could help me. Ask him. He’d do it for you, I know he would.”
I snorted. “According to popular belief, he’s one of the dealers. Besides, I haven’t even met him yet. I don’t see how he’d do anything for either one of us.”
