The Treasure Seeker Read online

  “Did you do it?”

  “I sure did and she grew some of the best tasting tomatoes I’ve ever eaten.” He stopped by Doreen’s chair and kissed her on the top of her head. “Why don’t you plant a garden? Maybe you could grow some of those great tomatoes.”

  “That’s why the good Lord created market days,” her mom responded. “Sit down and I’ll get your coffee.”

  “No, keep your seat. I’ll get it.” He made his way to the coffeepot. “Ry, do you remember any of the carpentry I taught you?”

  She looked up, surprised. “I think so. Why?”

  “Granny Jeter’s cabin needs some work. Nothing major, mind you. A few loose shingles and the front porch rails need some work. You know. It’s a few little things, but if I keep putting them off it won’t be long before they become major issues.” He poured his coffee. “Looks like it’s going to be a few days before the claims adjuster gets around to checking out your place, so I thought you might not mind fixing up the cabin. It shouldn’t take you more than a day or two at the most.” He sipped his coffee.

  “No, I don’t mind at all. I always loved going there to visit Granny Jeter.”

  “Good,” her dad said as he sat down across from her. “As soon as it gets light we can toss whatever you might need onto my work truck and you can take it. All the tools you need are already in the truck.”

  Her mom stood. “You’ll need some food,” she said and went to the pantry.

  “Mom, I’ll only be there a couple of days, so don’t over pack,” Ry said. She knew her mom’s version of a snack for the road was enough food to feed a family of four.

  “While you’re out there, keep your eyes open,” her father said. “I received a call from Nat Zucker last week. You know he owns that stretch of land that’s southeast of ours.”

  Ry nodded.

  “Poachers have gotten so bad out his way he had to call the Fish and Game Department. They promised to investigate, but you know how busy they are with only two game wardens for the entire county. If you see anyone you don’t know messing around out there give me call.”

  Ry fought the slight nervous twinge that tightened her stomach. The last thing she wanted was another encounter with an idiot toting a gun. “Do you think they’re dangerous?”

  “No. I wouldn’t have suggested you go out there otherwise. You know how Nat gets. He finds a couple of deer carcasses and he overreacts. Those deer may have died of old age. You never know with Nat.” He sipped his coffee before continuing, “When I was out that way I looked around, didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.” He eyed her for a moment. “You can take one of the hunting rifles with you if it makes you feel better.”

  She waved off the offer. “No, thanks. I’m not sure I ever want to touch another weapon.”

  “Ry, you can’t punish yourself for what happened. You had to defend yourself and Kate.”

  “Dad, on an intellectual level, I know all of that is true.” She looked at him and lowered her voice. “I intended to place those shots exactly where they struck. I could have just as easily wounded him, but at the time, it never occurred to me to do so. Why didn’t it? Why was my first instinct to kill him?”

  Her father stared into her eyes for a long moment. She could see the conflicting emotions in his gaze.

  He cleared his throat. “Instinct maybe. I don’t know,” he replied. “Thank God you reacted exactly as you did. I certainly don’t ever want to be in the position where I have to tell her that her little girl is gone.” He stood suddenly. “I need to get going. I have to drive over and pick up James. Then, we’re going to go finish up that fence for you. Okay if I drive your truck? I don’t like to leave your mom without her car.”

  “Sure. If you don’t mind nature’s air-conditioning. The keys are on the entryway table.” Ry hopped up and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you, Dad.”

  He kissed her forehead. “You be careful when you climb up on that ladder to fix the roof. You never were overly nimble.”

  Ry slapped his arm gently. “Are you trying to say I’m a klutz?”

  “Well, you know there’s a reason we didn’t name you Grace.” He winked and left.

  Chapter Nine

  Ry parked her father’s Ford F-250 beneath a towering cypress tree. Then she slowly made a circuit around the oak plank cabin. It was exactly what her father had described. There were a handful of missing shingles, a few nails needed to be reset and the front porch banister needed tightening. She sat in one of the four rockers on the front porch. It faced the pond that was less than sixty yards away. As she rocked and watched a couple of mallards swimming around the pond, she began to suspect her father had sent her here more for her mental well-being than that of the cabin. A hummingbird swooped across the porch in front of her. It hovered near her for a moment before zipping away with its iridescent wings sparkling in the sunlight. The bird reminded her of an afternoon she had spent helping her great-grandmother weed her flower garden. There had been a wide variety of flowers, but one particular plant put the hummingbirds into a feeding frenzy. She tried but failed to remember what her granny had called it. The hummingbird returned and hovered near the edge of the porch. His actions made Ry remember the glass feeders that her granny had kept out. She went inside and dug around until she located a feeder in a kitchen cabinet.

  Since some member of the family was always using the cabin, it was always fairly well stocked. She put a pot of water on to boil and soon the feeder was filled with the sugary water the hummingbirds so dearly loved. She hung the feeder on the front porch and within minutes five hummingbirds battled for the sweet liquid.

  Ry watched their aerial acrobatics for a long while. She marveled at the brilliant flashes of reds and greens as the hummers darted to and from the feeder. After watching them for several minutes, she began unloading the back of the truck.

  The cabin was essentially a square box divided into four rooms. Rather than use the bedroom, she put her suitcase in the same tiny niche behind the kitchen chimney that she had slept in as a child. The space was barely big enough for a twin-size bed and tiny side table. As a child, she had pretended the small cubby was her treasure cave. She had hidden her multitude of treasures beneath the bed.

  It didn’t surprise her to discover that her mother had packed two large ice chests. One filled with a gallon jar of lemonade along with half a dozen frozen dinners her mom was famous for making. The other chest contained nonperishable goodies that included a large can of coffee. Ry transferred the lemonade and the perishable items to the refrigerator and left the rest stored in the ice chest.

  Back at the truck, she saw another smaller ice chest. In it she found several beers in ice. “Thanks, Dad,” she said and smiled. Next to the ice chest containing the beer was a fishing pole and tackle box. She put the ice chest in the cool shade of the tree and unloaded a large toolbox. It only took a few minutes to reset the nails and tighten the porch rail. Replacing the handful of shingles took less than an hour.

  By midafternoon, she was sitting beneath a cypress tree with a fishing pole in one hand and a cold beer in the other. Her mom had packed an entire link of German sausage and Ry had chopped part of it up into small pieces to use as fish bait. The mallards kept their distance, but continued their diligent foraging. From somewhere in the distance came the erratic drumming of a woodpecker. Ry’s body absorbed the serenity of the world around her. When she reeled her line in and found the hook cleaned, she laid it aside and began idly tossing the bits of sausage into the water.

  For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt at peace. Several decisions still needed to be made and she’d make them when the time came. She didn’t know how everything would work out, but if it was meant to be then she would find a way.

  When the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon, she locked her father’s tools in the truck and went inside the cabin. She didn’t bother with lights but went straight to bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
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  Someone called her name. Her body, heavy with sleep, was slow in responding. When her name was called again, she made herself sit up. It sounded like her mother. She turned to get out of bed but something was in her way. She tried again. Something had been moved against her bed. On the verge of screaming at her brothers for pulling one of their juvenile pranks, she suddenly remembered she wasn’t at home but rather at the cabin. She turned over and swung her legs off the bed. Moonlight poured through the kitchen windows allowing her to see clearly the woman standing by the doorway. Ry stared in disbelief and surprisingly enough wasn’t frightened. “Granny Jeter, is that you?”

  “Ry, there’s a storm coming. It’s a bad storm, honey.”

  Ry looked beyond the shadowy image of her great-grandmother. The moonlight was bright. There didn’t seem to be any clouds obscuring it. “Granny Jeter, I must be dreaming. You’re dead.” She wanted to run to her, but her feet wouldn’t move. “We miss you so much.”

  “I’m never far away. Ry, you have to be strong. When they come for you, you stay strong and fight them.”

  Scared, Ry looked around her. “Who’s coming? Why are they coming for me?”

  “Who doesn’t matter. What matters is that you keep fighting and don’t give in.”

  “I promise,” Ry said.

  “Your life is changing and it’ll never be the same. When the weak come to you for help, don’t withhold it out of fright. You have a lot to do. Don’t be afraid. I’ll always be near. And, Ry, remember, it’s not a sign of weakness to forgive.”

  A god-awful racket brought Ry to her feet. Morning sunlight from the kitchen windows blinded her. Frightened by her great-grandmother’s ominous words still ringing in her ears, she held up a hand to block the light. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find. When she saw nothing the least bit scary she breathed a loud sigh of relief and gave a nervous chuckle. It had been a dream. Yet, it had seemed so real. A strange nervousness hit her stomach. Was Granny Jeter trying to warn her of something? She had heard of such things happening to people. Her thoughts were interrupted when the racket began again. It was nothing more than a blue jay shrieking an alarm.

  Ry sat back down on the edge of the bed. The bird had probably seen a hawk or maybe a snake. It was his job to alert the other birds. She put on her clothes and boots. Her watch indicated it was after nine. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had slept so well. After starting a pot of coffee, she brushed her teeth and washed her face in the bathroom sink. She needed to call Wilma Brown and follow up on when the claims adjuster would be out to look over the shop. As soon as the coffee was ready, she poured a cup and retrieved her cell phone from the kitchen table. The day was too beautiful to stay inside the cabin. She decided to have her coffee on the porch. She dialed Wilma’s number as she walked.

  As she stepped out onto the front porch, the squawking blue jay flew directly at her. Ry instinctively jumped back. As she moved, a strong gust of wind kicked up. She clearly heard the creaking of the massive cypress tree limbs. The hummingbird feeder swung wildly in the blast of air. The liquid inside the feeder caught the sunlight creating a brilliant rainbow. As she watched, the myriad of colors suddenly exploded, sending a multitude of glass shards into the air. The sugar water from the feeder seemed to hang in midair for a second before splattering across the porch.

  Confused, Ry tried to comprehend what had happened to the feeder. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. The sound recognition had barely been processed when something hard hit the right side of her forehead. As her knees folded, she felt the phone and coffee cup slip from her hands. She fell face forward onto the porch. Something warm ran down her face. At first, Ry thought it was the spilled coffee, but then she saw the stream of blood oozing across the porch plank. She had been shot. So this was how it would happen. This was the way she would die. Granny Jeter had attempted to warn her. Ry tried to move, but her body no longer obeyed. Nothing on it seemed to work.

  Oddly enough, she felt no pain. All she felt was a sense of sadness. No one would come looking for her for at least another day or two. Her father would blame himself for sending her out here. Her mom would grieve. Blackness began to close over her.

  Voices filled her head. “A parent shouldn’t bury a child. Fight. Don’t give in.”

  Light, blinding light moved toward her.

  More whispers.

  “Fight, Ry, don’t give in.”

  She fought against the heaviness that was settling over her.

  The light dimmed but continued to hover nearby.

  “Ry, tell your mother the earring she lost fell behind the baseboard at the back of her dresser. It’s a little gold heart with a sapphire in the center.”

  Was that Granny Jeter’s voice? Ry wanted desperately to open her eyes, but they were too heavy.

  Couldn’t Granny Jeter see she was dying? Why was she talking about earrings? Faces began floating before her. They all seemed to want something from her. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

  Even with her eyes tightly closed, the faces of strangers continued to float before her. She fought to push them away. The pleading face of a young woman caught her attention. As soon as she made eye contact, the young woman seemed to jump forward and stand right next to her.

  “Don’t be afraid. They won’t be with you long,” her Granny Jeter’s voice cut through the clamoring voices around her. “Listen to her. She needs your help.”

  The young woman leaned down and whispered. “Tell my mother that my diary is hidden in my closet behind a fake panel. Please tell her. She needs to know.”

  Ry tried to ask the woman’s name, but before she could form the words another face was there talking to her. This time an older man, his voice so heavily accented she could barely understand him. “Tell my grandson the one he loves is in Tulsa. My grandson has lost his way. He needs to find his way back to her. It was meant to be.”

  The light closed in again. It seemed so peaceful, so welcoming she moved toward it. Ry could see silhouettes of people in front of the light. Some were beckoning her to come closer, but there was a much louder group waving her away.

  A voice shouted near her ear. “Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes and talk to me. What’s your name? Come on, you’re making me do all the work. Fight.”

  Ry ran away from the light. “I’m fighting. I won’t let you down, Granny Jeter, I promise.”

  A sharp spasm of pain shot through Ry’s body. The faces and voices disappeared. The pressure in her head was nearly unbearable. She screamed in pain and desperately searched for the peaceful light, but it had abandoned her as well. She called out for her great-grandmother, her parents, Kate, anyone who could stop the pain. The voice that finally cut through the pain was unknown to her, but she clung to it desperately. Somehow, she knew that if she lost that voice, she would die. “Talk to me,” she begged. “Don’t leave me.”

  A warm hand caressed her cheek. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

  * * *

  Water dripped on Ry’s face. She tried to reach up and touch her face, but the darkness kept dragging her back.

  “Mom, come on. Let the doctors work.”

  Daniel’s voice. Ry tried to call out to him. Where was the other voice? She needed to hear the other voice.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Shelton, please. You have to leave.”

  Darkness.

  “…get you if…”

  Darkness.

  “…changes…”

  Kate. Was Kate here?

  Darkness.

  “Fight, Ry.”

  Darkness.

  Ry lost track of the number of times the voices and the darkness pulled her back and forth. She was so exhausted. She again looked around for the comforting light, but it continued to elude her.

  Was she doomed for all eternity to hear the voices of her loved ones without being able to speak to them? Maybe this was Hell. After all, she had killed a man. She
had gone to Sunday school and the Bible definitely frowned on killing. But, there was that eye for an eye thing. Did that include self-defense? Except for a few minor slips, she had tried to lead a good life. She shouldn’t have been so mean to Lenny Morton in the fourth grade. She had superglued the wheels of his skateboard after he put a dead frog in Linda Sue’s gym shoes. And she had stolen a couple of copies from Lewis’s hidden stash of girly magazines when she was fifteen. Before she could ponder further on whether she was in Hell or not, the menacing darkness gave way to a less threatening void.

  Ry pulled herself from the void by following the voices. They were nearby, whispering. One voice seemed familiar, but not the other. She tried to concentrate.

  “I’m sure I put my keys in my bag after I got out of the car.”

  That was Kate’s voice.

  “You probably dropped them,” replied the unknown voice.

  A hand clasped Ry’s hand. Instantly her body grew hot as an image flashed through the blackness. She saw keys in a dark, almost tunnel-like area. She recognized the keys by the small penknife with Kate’s initials. Where were they? She studied everything around the keys and finally identified what she was seeing.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t find them,” Kate said.

  “Keys un…er car seat. In air con..it…on…ent,” she tried to tell Kate, but something in her mouth prevented her from speaking. She wanted to yank it away, but her arm wouldn’t move.

  The voices stopped.

  Ry felt herself slipping back into the darkness.

  “Ry, can you hear me?”

  Someone was gently touching her face. It sounded like Kate. Ry imagined she could even smell the slightly citrusy scent of Kate’s favorite body wash. Maybe it really was Kate. She again tried to tell Kate where her keys were and again her words sounded garbled.

  “Ry, if you can hear me squeeze my hand.”

  She struggled to make her hands move. Nothing happened. It seemed as if her body was frozen into position.