The House on Creek Road Read online

  “Oh, no.”

  “I’m not sure what to do. There’s general agreement that it would be a pity to sell it, but that it’s too big and too dark for anyone to take.”

  “We can’t sell it.” Every family occasion had involved gathering around that table. “Remember how we used to go from house to house at Christmas? Aunt Edith’s for Christmas Eve, here for dinner on Christmas Day, our house for games and turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day. This was the only place big enough for everyone.”

  Eleanor lifted the lid of the waffle-maker. Two fragrant circles fell away from the grill. “The children never need to sit at a card table in another room. I like that. I like babies at the table.”

  “I don’t remember babies—”

  “You were one of them. And you missed the next batch.”

  “I just remember Emily being smaller than the rest of us. Not quite a baby, though. A toddler.” Emily was born a few years after Liz and Susannah, the only child of Eleanor’s only daughter, Julia. She had shadowed her older cousins as soon as she could move fast enough to keep up. Now, she was a teaching assistant at the elementary school, dividing her day between the kindergarten room and the library. She still lived with her mother, about a mile down the road from Eleanor’s house. “This barbecue tonight, Grandma. Do we have to go?”

  “What a question.” Eleanor looked startled and not at all pleased. “It’s in your honor. Your aunt has gone to a lot of trouble.” Using a tea towel, she pulled a plate of waffles from the warming oven and added the two she’d just made to the pile. The stack had fallen over, forming a large, rounded mound, enough to feed them all week. “Would you get the syrup? There’s raspberry preserves, too.”

  Liz rummaged in the fridge. Of course she couldn’t avoid the barbecue. It was a few hours with family and friends. She’d be glad to see everyone. She’d fill a plate and mingle and then, if necessary, plead jet lag, or burn herself on the grill, and they’d understand why she had to leave early.

  “The syrup’s right there, Elizabeth, by the milk. Don’t let all the cold air out.”

  The syrup appeared in front of Liz, beside a carton of whole milk she hadn’t noticed, either. Wasn’t whole milk extinct? Everything inside the fridge had a foreign look to it, now that she thought about it. Three dozen eggs, real butter, whipping cream. Had the news about cholesterol not reached Three Creeks?

  As she set the syrup and preserves on the table, heavy footsteps sounded on the veranda. The dogs lifted their heads, but they didn’t budge from their spot by the stove. After a token knock, the kitchen door pushed open, and Liz’s brother looked into the room. He grinned when he saw her. “Hey, kiddo. How ya doin’?”

  Liz wanted to throw her arms around him, but something held her back. She made herself busy carrying the teapot to the table. “I hoped I’d see you today.”

  “Got you working hard already, has she, Grandma? Waffles—she’s got no shame. It’s from living in the city. They get used to being pampered.”

  “Join us, Thomas. We’ve got plenty.” Eleanor was already setting another place.

  “I suppose a little more breakfast won’t hurt me.” If anyone could tolerate two breakfasts, it was Tom. Since their parents had retired and sold him their land a few years before, he’d been farming a thousand acres and raising a hundred head of cattle. Any spare time was spent playing with his three children.

  He reached for the serving plate before he was in his chair. He helped himself, then pushed it closer to his sister. “So, Lizzie, what’s the penalty for bashing up a rental car?”

  She hardly noticed slipping into the bantering tone they used with each other most of the time. “You bashed up my rental car? That’ll cost you.”

  “What’d you do, hit a deer?”

  “I hit a rock, avoiding a deer.”

  “That was careless. I could have fed my family all winter.”

  From across the room Eleanor said, “Your sister had quite a scare.”

  Tom’s chastened expression gave Liz’s heart a twinge. He looked about eight years old. “You’re all right, though?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little more aware how nice it is to be breathing.” Even now, thinking about her near miss made her queasy. She cut one of the waffles down the middle and put half on her plate. Slowly she poured on syrup, giving as much attention to filling the little squares as she had when she was a child. “How are my nieces and my nephew?”

  “Let’s see.” Tom’s face brightened just thinking about his children, but he spoke in an offhand tone. “Jennifer’s had her ears pierced, Will says it’s not fair. Anne has joined Brownies, Will says it’s not fair. Will’s going to play hockey this season, Jennifer says it’s not fair. We’ve made a rule they all have to do an hour of chores on Saturdays before they play and they all agree it’s not fair—”

  “Pretty much business as usual, then.”

  “But more so. Pam’s bursting to see you. She says she’ll be around to help with the sorting and packing when work allows.” Tom’s wife taught grade five at the local school. Half the teachers there were at least distantly related to the Robbs. “I suppose you’ll still be in the house for part of the winter, Grandma? Need some firewood?”

  “Thank you, but I’m all set. Jack brought me a good load last week. It should be enough with what I have left from last year.”

  Tom’s cheerful mood was gone, just like that. “What’s Jack McKinnon doing bringing you wood? I’ve always brought you wood.”

  “You’ve been so good about it, but look at all you have to do.”

  “Bringing you firewood has never been a problem—”

  Bella and Dora stopped scrutinizing each forkful traveling from Liz’s plate to her mouth and ambled to the door, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. More company? Liz hadn’t even washed before coming downstairs. There was a light tapping on the door, and then Emily stepped into the kitchen, beaming. Liz’s chair scraped back, and she hurried to her cousin, reaching for a hug.

  “You finally, finally came home!” Emily said. “How long can you stay?”

  “A week. Maybe two.”

  “Not longer?”

  Eleanor brought another plate from the cupboard. “I’m sure it will be two. We need at least that much time to get the work done. We’re starting with the furniture today, Emily, if you’re interested. Thomas, would you pour your cousin some tea?”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” The dogs followed Emily to her chair. “No, Bella, no matter what you might think, and no matter what happened last time, I’m not going to give you my breakfast. Is that your car in the driveway, Liz, with the big dent? Don’t tell me you hit a deer.”

  “She tried her best,” Tom said, “but all she got was a rock. There’s not much point hitting a rock.”

  “I swerved to avoid a car and the deer came out of nowhere. You’d think it had transported in—”

  “Transported?” Eleanor didn’t watch much television.

  “Like in a sci-fi program,” Liz explained. “Beamed from one spot to another…the idea is, they break you down into atoms and reassemble you at your destination.”

  Eleanor grimaced. “I don’t think I’d like that. Although I wouldn’t mind a shorter trip to Winnipeg, especially in the winter—and I suppose you could drop in and out of here more often, Elizabeth.”

  “And we all could have made it to Susannah’s wedding,” Tom added.

  “Oh, could you believe she did that?” Emily asked. “Marry a guy like Alexander Blake in the middle of the badlands when we’d stopped thinking she’d ever get married at all, and not wait for me? I’m afraid my telegram turned into a bit of a lecture—”

  This time there was no knock, and no warning from the dogs. Susannah’s father stepped into the house as if he owned it. He was tall and tanned, with graying hair cut very short. A pale band of skin just below his hairline showed where his cap usually sat, pulled down low to shade his eyes.

  “There she is!” He took Liz’s
face between two large hands and kissed the top of her head loudly. “Looking like a million bucks, as usual. Got all your dad’s beauty and your mother’s brains.”

  Liz smiled. It was a long-time claim. “Hi, Uncle Will.”

  “And Emily. Look at the two of you. All we’re missing is Susannah. Shove over, Tom.” Will squeezed into a chair next to his nephew. “Got some coffee, Mom?”

  Eleanor set a jar of instant on the table. “I bought a special kind for Elizabeth.”

  “Hazelnut Heaven? Sounds like a lady’s drink to me…I suppose I’ll still get my caffeine, though, won’t I?” Will smiled at Liz. “Quite a dent on that little Cavalier out there. Brand-new car, too. Reminds me of when you were learning to drive. I kept telling you to aim for the road— Oh, well, why change now?” He stirred a heaping spoon of coffee crystals into a mug of hot water his mother placed in front of him, then flinched when the smell of hazelnuts hit his nostrils. “Did you get the extra insurance?”

  Liz nodded. She’d checked the rental agreement before bed.

  “Always get the insurance. Otherwise, something goes wrong, you’re on the hook for the whole thing. I’ll take the car back for you—” He raised one hand to stop Liz’s protest. “I’m going into the city on Saturday anyway. I’ll settle everything, take the bus back. They won’t give me any trouble.”

  “Uncle Will—”

  Tom spoke under cover of their uncle’s confident voice. “Give up, Liz.”

  “I’ll need a car—”

  “You can use Grandma’s. It’s old, but it’s in good shape.”

  “We’re all set then,” Will said with satisfaction. “So, angel, here’s the thing. Your aunt wants you to stay with us for a while. How about it? You can use Sue’s old room and keep us company.”

  “I’ve come to help Grandma, Uncle Will.”

  “How about over Christmas? I’m sure Sue’ll be finished at her quarry by then. Of course, it won’t be quite the same, will it? She’ll have Alex with her.” He frowned into his cup. “The way they got married, in such a hurry, with no family— It’s been tough on your aunt. She saved a picture of the perfect wedding cake from some magazine twenty-odd years ago and she was heartbroken not to have the chance to make it.”

  Tom spooned a big dollop of raspberry preserves on a second waffle. “If they’d waited one measly day we could have got to Alberta in time. Would one day have made such a difference?”

  “That’s what I said,” Will agreed.

  Liz tried to defend her cousin, although she’d been disappointed to miss the wedding, too. “There aren’t all that many flights to the Gobi Desert.”

  “Trust you to be in favor of a rushed marriage, Liz. What is it with you and eloping, anyway—” Tom broke off when Eleanor made a warning sound. With a guilty glance at his grandmother, he apologized.

  Liz forced a smile. “That’s okay. I did elope. It’s no secret.”

  “And everybody was very happy for you,” Will declared, “no matter what they said at the time.”

  Emily jumped up. “Let’s get the dishes cleared away, Liz. Then we’ll take a look at the furniture. My mother’s hoping for that cabinet radio, Grandma.”

  Eleanor tapped the table. “Settle down and enjoy your breakfast, Emily. Your cousin isn’t a child with a short attention span. You can’t distract her that easily. And you, Elizabeth, I’m sorry to say it, but you bring it on yourself. If you’d transport in here more often, people would be done commenting on that episode of your life.”

  Episode. Liz smiled weakly. It was beginning to look as if two weeks would be more than she could handle. At this point, two days was in question.

  JACK SCOOPED SOIL INTO a specimen jar and twisted the lid tight. Eleanor’s field looked promising. Coming through the woods he’d noticed a few small conifers growing in the shade of the poplars…if nature was already beginning to diversify the deciduous forest, it just might be willing to accept a push from him. He should know for sure in a week or two. So far it had never taken longer than that for the provincial lab to fax the test results.

  He yawned and stretched. He’d been awake most of the night, his mind ricocheting between Reid, who had somehow found a way into his house, and the granddaughter with the spicy hair. Cinnamon, with darker strands, like cloves. She smelled like Christmas. She shouldn’t. People who refused to visit their grandmothers for as long as she had should smell like Scrooge—all dust and cigars.

  In the middle of the field he used a trowel to dig a small hole so he could get another sample from deeper down, where the trees’ roots would be looking for nourishment. He was hoping for a slightly acidic soil, the kind white spruce and balsam firs preferred. Balsams were a safe bet to grow. They were always popular because of their thick growth and festive smell and because they hung on to their needles longer than some trees. The more sparsely branched spruce he liked for old times’ sake. It was the kind he and his uncle had always decorated.

  When he straightened from collecting the second sample he noticed a figure coming across the field. A female figure. Tall and slender, with light curly hair tousled by the breeze. Elizabeth Robb. She was heading right for him. Striding toward him, in fact. Barely arrived after an absence of fifteen years, Eleanor’s granddaughter had spotted a trespasser, and she wanted to do something about it. Jack waited, surprised how glad he was to see her.

  She stopped a couple of yards away. Even at that distance he was sure he caught a whiff of cinnamon. Maybe she wore cinnamon perfume. Was there such a thing? If there wasn’t, his nose was hallucinating.

  After a guarded greeting, she said, “I didn’t expect to see anyone way out here.”

  “There never is anybody.” Usually he could walk for half the day without seeing a single person. It was one of the things he liked about country living.

  She had noticed the specimen jars nearly hidden in his hand. “I was thinking about you this morning, wondering if everything was all right when you got home last night.”

  “Because of the car? Everything was fine. It must have been someone turning around in my driveway. I wondered about you, too. The accident didn’t leave you with any aches or pains?”

  “It wasn’t much of an accident.” She was still eyeing the specimen jars. “The car seemed a bit sinister without headlights and disappearing the way it did, but I guess the simplest explanation is usually the right one.”

  “I hope you warmed up eventually.”

  A brief smile relaxed her features. “I don’t think I’ll warm up until I get back to Vancouver.”

  “Overheating isn’t a problem in these old houses,” Jack agreed.

  “They do provide some protection from snow during the winter.”

  “And they keep the coyotes out.”

  “But not the mice.” She squelched the growing feeling of friendliness by adding, finally, “I’m not sure if you realize you’re on my grandmother’s property.”

  He nodded. “I’m collecting soil samples.”

  His calm admission stalled her for a moment. “I suppose you’re looking for somewhere to grow evergreens.”

  “That’s right.” He started walking, and Liz fell into step beside him. He shortened his stride to match hers.

  “My grandmother won’t sell this field. It’s part of the original homestead.”

  “Nobody else is using it.”

  “I’m sure my brother would like it for pasture. He’s expanding his herd.”

  “It borders my land. It’s miles from his.”

  They walked in silence, dry grass brushing their legs. He saw that her shoes were splotched with paint, nearly every color ever invented as far as he could tell. For the first time it occurred to him that illustrating children’s books meant she actually painted pictures.

  They had reached the edge of the field. A well-marked path led to Eleanor’s; Jack would have to cut through the woods to reach his house. He found he didn’t want their conversation to end. He tucked the offending specime
n jars into his pockets. “Have you and Eleanor been working this morning?”

  “We’ve being going through the furniture, making lists of everything. She has to get rid of most of it.”

  “That must be hard for both of you.”

  “The time had to come eventually. It’s just stuff.”

  He scuffed the toe of his hiking boot into the ground. “And this is just land.”

  As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. She looked at him indignantly, all her suspicions in place. He understood. He had never belonged anywhere in particular, she had always belonged here. They both knew what roots were.

  DESPITE THE DULL BROWNS AND GRAYS of late fall, Will and Edith’s place looked beautiful. Evening sunlight sparkled through the leafless oaks and elms, and small fires flickered here and there in the yard so guests could warm themselves. Coal oil lamps stood on picnic tables, ready to light at dusk. People had come prepared for the temperature to dip when the sun went down—coats were open over sweaters, hats and gloves stuck out of pockets. Children ran through groups of chatting grown-ups, playing Statues, or jumping in fallen leaves.

  Liz pulled over, as far off the road as she could get without driving into the ditch. If she parked in the field that was already bumper to bumper with cars her escape route might be cut off by people arriving later. She pulled down the sun visor for one last check of her appearance. The view in the small rectangular mirror wasn’t reassuring. She looked pale and pinched, like someone in the dentist’s waiting room anticipating a root canal.

  “You look lovely, dear.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.”

  Pretending not to notice the curious faces that had turned their way, Liz offered Eleanor an arm out of the car, then lifted a monster salad bowl from the back seat. When she turned around, she found herself inches from a small woman with short, graying hair and bangs, and a girl who looked about ten.