The keep, p.26
The Keep, page 26
Honey downed a gulp of her wine. "Don't tell anybody." Rosie's eyebrows raised. "I'm a chef. Nobody will trust my cooking again."
"Dad is good." Willow entered, a bandage on her throat. "Hey. Where's mine?"
"In the kitchen. I can get you some." Rosie leaned forward to stand.
"No, sit. I'll get it. I'm sick of sitting." Willow walked into the kitchen and returned a minute later, her own glass of wine in hand. "He woke up and asked about you." She looked at her mother. "When he heard you were fine, he went out again. The floor nurse said we shouldn't bug him until morning."
As much as Honey wanted to see Booker, she was relieved. The tension of the past two days had drained out of her and left her limp and weak. She couldn't have driven to the hospital in her current condition.
"I'm ordering pizza," Willow said.
"Pizza?" Honey parroted the word as if trying to remember what it was. It seemed a long time since she'd eaten any.
"I'll make it a veggie everything," Willow said, mistaking her mother's question for argument. "But I need carbs." She turned her gaze on Rosie. "You'll stay?"
"Only if we can watch a chick flick."
"Only if it's funny. If it's not funny, I'm not watching it," Honey said.
"Veggie everything, funny movie, got it," Willow said.
"You have more wine?" Rosie asked.
"Of course," Honey said, and closed her eyes again so she could feel the comfort surrounding her. She was safe. More important, Willow and Booker were safe. That knowledge grew inside her and became larger and larger until it was a solid presence. A presence that satisfied something deep inside of her that hadn’t been satisfied since her mother died. It filled her being, splashed over into her living room, and flooded her entire home.
She opened her eyes. She’d be able to sleep tonight. To function tomorrow. They were safe.
5.6.8
One Month Later
Honey coasted past the gate and into the lot of Black Star Canyon. Tracey wheeled alongside. "Good riding," she said. Tracey was the well-muscled Trail Angel who'd found Honey and Booker that night a month ago. A week after the ordeal, she'd wandered into Honey's shop to see how everyone was doing. Sweeter than Honey had been mentioned in the Orange County Register's article about the event.
Before Tracey left that day, Honey had surprised herself by agreeing to a beginner's ride with the Trail Angels the following Saturday. Tracey had an old bike she could lend her. All Honey had to do was show up.
It was scary, but not nearly as scary as being weak and helpless. Honey had been on six rides since and had grown more confident with each. She'd gained physical strength more quickly than she'd imagined possible, but that wasn't the greatest gain. The greatest gain was the emotional reserves she sensed from so many in the group. These were strong women in more ways than one. After everything she'd been through, she was ready to join their ranks. As a bonus, she was also losing weight and getting her cholesterol under control.
She smiled as she remembered Charlie's disbelief that there could be such a thing as good cholesterol, but it was a sad smile.
Honey pulled her bike up to her new SUV. The police had found her van in a gully way up Black Star close to Beek's Place. A family of raccoons had moved in and done what raccoons do. It was no longer fit to drive even if she could get the smell out, so she’d bought a new Toyota 4Runner. She hung her bike, another new purchase, on a rack extending from its hatch.
"Want to get a taco?" Tracey said.
"No. Can't," Honey said. "Willow is bringing her boyfriend, Jonathan, home to meet us."
"Fun. Are you cooking for everybody, or going out?"
"Jonathan is making his famous ribs. I'm doing salads."
"Sounds amazing. What time should I be there?" Tracey threw her bike in the bed of her pickup, then turned to Honey and grinned. "Seriously, have fun. I hope you like him."
"He sounds wonderful. He's attentive, thoughtful, has a good job, and he's a foodie."
"If Willow breaks up with him, give him my number, will you?" Tracey climbed into her truck. "See you next week? Wednesday?"
"I'll be there." Honey closed up shop early on Wednesdays and headed out for a ride with the girls. When Booker's medical bills started rolling in, she'd had a realization. Even with good insurance, doctors were expensive. Exercise had to be a priority.
Honey’s cell phone rang before she turned off the engine. It was Friar Philip. “Honey, wondering if I can impose.”
“You’re never an imposition, Father.”
“Friar Ambrose has come down with a cold. Would you be able to cook for the pantry on Monday? The guests miss you.”
“I’ll be there,” she said. They decided on the menu, what Honey would bring and what would be waiting for her, and hung up. Honey hadn’t hired anyone to replace Angela yet, but she hadn’t hesitated even though she’d have to close the shop for the morning. She didn’t mind. Not anymore.
Honey had decided money wasn’t the great security blanket she’d once thought. Money hadn’t saved her from Zach or Angela. In fact, money had placed her in greater danger. What had saved her were the people in her life who cared.
The day after Honey told Friar Philip about Joe’s death, he had contacted Booker to offer his condolences. In the course of the conversation he’d explained that Joe had visited him on his last trip to Orange County and had confessed his affair with Angela. Booker realized she, either alone or with Zach’s help, must have been Joe’s killer and the one who held his wife prisoner.
He’d taken that information to Sylla and begged her not to send a battalion of deputies to the canyon, but to send only him and Kirk Wickett. She’d agreed if both men stayed in radio contact and wore Kevlar vests.
Booker and Kirk had risked their lives to save Honey. Willow would have if she’d had the chance. Rosie had understood her unspoken pleas and brought help. Even Fury had done his part, preventing Zach’s early break-in attempts.
Poor Rick. Honey had sympathy for the man even if he had tried to shoot her. His stockpiles of food were his security just as Honey’s savings account had been hers. It was a delusion. The jars and boxes and barrels hadn’t defended him from Angela any more than the $50,000 had defended Honey.
No. Loved ones, people who cared, that’s what sanctuaries were constructed of. Honey switched off the engine and headed into her home.
Willow and Jonathan arrived just as Honey finished drying her hair. She heard Fury's joyful greeting from the bedroom, checked her lipstick, and walked downstairs to meet the man who'd graduated from not-a-complete-loser status.
Everyone was huddled in the kitchen, leaning on cupboards and counters as usual. Why everyone insisted on standing in the kitchen when there were perfectly good chairs only feet away, she never understood. To annoy her. That was the only explanation she could come up with.
Willow ran to hug her as she entered, then took her hand and drew her toward a young man leaning against Honey's spice drawer. Will was beaming. "Mom, this is Jonathan. Jonathan, my mom, Honey."
He was cute. Honey knew she shouldn't objectify the guy. She was sure he was so much more than his handsome face, thick head of nut-brittle brown hair salted with sunlight, and broad shoulders; but, hey, first impressions were good. She shook hands with him and liked his strong, but not bone-crushing, grip.
"Willow talks about you all the time," he said. "She's so proud of you."
"Proud?" A knot formed in Honey's stomach. Images of Angela holding a knife to her daughter's throat haunted her dreams. "I almost got her killed."
Willow squeezed her hand. "You saved my life, Mom."
"If I hadn't hired—" her throat constricted, and she couldn't continue.
"Dad and I were after you to hire somebody," Willow said.
"You couldn't have known," Booker said, his voice raised. Honey knew he meant to be encouraging, but he sounded angry.
Honey shook her head. "I should have known."
It didn't seem as if Booker heard her. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor. "If we're attributing blame, I think it falls squarely on my shoulders. I knew who Joe was. I tried to whitewash his behavior, but I knew who he was. I knew the kind of people he associated with."
"Joe was sorry. He came to Orange County to make things right." Honey couldn't believe she was defending Joe to Booker.
"How do you make something like that right?"
Booker's body had almost completely healed from the bullet wound, but his psyche was still fractured. Honey often found him sitting, staring into space, his old enthusiasm gone, the bright flame of his personality reduced to a smoldering wick. "Don't—"
Jonathan interrupted her with a soft voice. "It sounds like Angela may have borderline personality disorder. It's fairly common in people who struggle with eating disorders. They are masters at hiding things they don't want people to know. You can't blame yourselves, either of you."
"Jonathan has a cousin like Angela." Willow barked an ironic laugh. "Well, she never killed anybody."
Jonathan's mouth twitched. "That we know of."
"But the family worries about her. I mean, not that she’ll kill anybody. She’s a nice person. Not like Angela that way." Willow’s eyes widened. “I think I need to shut up.”
"What Will’s saying is half my aunt and uncle's retirement account has gone toward treatment centers and therapy. It's been rough on them," Jonathan said. "But that's what you do, right? It's family."
Booker's gaze shot to Jonathan's face.
"Yes," Honey said trying to catch Booker's eye. "I haven't always understood that. Maybe it was growing up in a big family. We struggled financially, and there were so many of us it was every man for himself. Especially at mealtimes. You could lose your hand reaching for the breadbasket."
Booker's mouth tipped into a half-grin. "She's not kidding. I've eaten meals with the Baumgarten clan."
"Speaking of food," Willow said.
Jonathan clapped his hands together. "I should start the ribs if we want to eat sometime today."
"Right." Booker pushed himself off the counter he'd been leaning against.
"Lead me to your grill," Jonathan said.
The men disappeared into the backyard, and Honey began pulling salad ingredients from the refrigerator.
"So, how are you guys?" Willow said. "Really?"
Honey didn't meet her gaze. "We're okay."
"Dad?"
Honey dumped an armload of vegetables into the sink and began running water over them. She wasn't sure how much she should say. She was worried about Booker, but she didn't want to transfer that worry to her daughter. "He's struggling, but he'll figure it out. Your dad is the strongest man I know. I was glad Ash could get away for the funeral. He’s good for your dad."
"Dad took Uncle Joe's death hard," Will said.
"I thought the trip home would help. Closure and all that."
“It was nice to see everybody.”
“It was, but I’m not sure it did much to mend what Joe’s death broke.”
They worked in silence for a while. Honey washing lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, and green onion. Willow patting them dry. The men's voices rumbled through the window. Honey was about to comment that Jonathan and Booker seemed to be getting along when a laugh floated in from the yard. It was Booker. A second later, Jonathan's guffaw joined her husband's.
Honey moved to the window and gazed out. The two men stood next to the grill, beers in hand. Jonathan was regaling Booker with a story that must have been hysterical. Booker's face was raised to the sky, his mouth open in a hearty laugh. Honey grinned in response.
Willow stepped next to her. "He's pretty amazing, isn't he?"
Honey wasn't sure if she meant her father or her boyfriend, but she agreed on both counts. "Yeah."
"Jonathan reminds me of Ash." Willow waved a hand as if trying to erase her words. "Not in some Greek tragedy, creepy kind of way. Just his sense of humor. He's upbeat, optimistic. When I get all musician melancholy, he cracks a joke, and it blows away."
Honey saw something sparkle on her daughter's uplifted hand. She reached for it. "What's this?"
Willow tried to suppress a smile. "I was going to tell you right away, but everything got so serious."
"Booker," Honey yelled through the window.
"Yes, Hon," he said.
Honey dragged Willow toward the sliding glass door by her finger. "You need to see this."
Booker's eyes grew wide. Jonathan crossed the patio and put a protective arm around Willow's shoulders. "I wanted to wait until you tasted the ribs," he said.
Willow sparkled almost as brightly as the diamond on her finger. "Jonathan proposed. I said yes."
Honey was frozen in place, the cascade of emotions that washed over her too great to navigate. Joy and excitement tempered by loss and concern. They hadn't been dating long. Willow hardly knew him. She and Booker had just met him.
Booker saved the moment. "That's great news, sweetheart." He wrapped his arms around Willow, then slapped a hand on Jonathan's shoulder while shaking his hand with the other. "If you hurt her in any way, I'll kill you," he said with something between a smile and a snarl.
"Book," Honey said. "He didn't mean that." But as she hugged the couple, she thought he just might.
"You and Dad didn’t date all that long, did you?" Willow said as if she sensed her mother's concerns.
“No, but we knew each other forever. We dated in high school.” Willow’s jaw muscles clenched like Booker’s did when he was getting stubborn. Honey dropped it. Her daughter was an adult. Jonathan seemed like a great guy. He came from a good family.
The ribs were excellent. You could tell a lot about a person by the food they prepared. He was a good cook, his process professional, and his food delicious. Honey had to admit she liked what she saw. Not that she fully trusted herself yet.
The way Angela had drilled into Honey's affections like a tick on a dog, had left her doubting herself. On the other hand, she hadn't seen Booker in such a good mood since Joe's death, and that was something.
Honey began clearing dishes from the outdoor picnic table. "I made apple crisp for dessert."
Booker groaned. "If I eat one more thing, I'm going to explode."
Jonathan stood to help. "I saved room."
"Can you two sit for a minute," Willow said.
Honey set down the plates in her hand and perched on the edge of her chair.
Willow pulled Jonathan into his seat. "We have more news. News you're going to be excited about."
"We're moving back to Orange County," Jonathan said.
Booker's face erupted in a broad grin. "You're coming home?"
Willow's head bobbed as Jonathan gave them the details. "The bad news is my dad had a stroke. He and my mom need help, so I started applying for jobs in the area."
"He got an offer, a great offer," Willow said.
Jonathan tipped his head, a humble gesture. "It's good, but it’s better that I'll be around to take some of the pressure off my sister. She's a bit overwhelmed."
"But what about your job?" Honey asked Willow.
"I'm going to finish the school year in San Diego, but I've been applying to schools up here for the fall. I’ve already had interest. I don’t think it will be as difficult to find something now that I have a teaching gig on my resume."
Honey wasn't thrilled about Willow leaving a good job, but the excitement of having her daughter close again diluted the disappointment. Honey watched Booker's face as Will and Jonathan filled them in on their plans. The lines that had been etched on his forehead for months softened. The downturned bow of his mouth lifted. The shadows in his blue eyes cleared. He’d be okay. They were all going to be okay.
All those empty places in Honey's heart, the hollows Angela had filled with her poison, would mend. There was something about being pinched between death’s fingers that now made her world feel big and full. Sure, there were things she wanted. She wanted to move to the next level in her business. She wanted Booker to be his old happy self. She wanted to write a cookbook, find a publisher, and hit bestseller lists. But she was satisfied with the way things were.
“Want another splash of wine?” Honey picked up the almost empty bottle and held it up for Willow to view. “Where’s your glass?”
Willow smiled. “I don’t have one.”
Honey’s brow furrowed. “You’re not drinking wine?” Willow loved wine. She’d considered becoming a sommelier at one time in her life.
“Nope. I’m going to check on the guys.” She flashed another enigmatic smile and walked out the backdoor.
No wine. Engaged. Honey put a hand on her lips. Was her life about to become even more full?
MOLLY: And we end with yet another question, but a happy one. Is Willow pregnant? You’ll have to join me for Season Six, The Manor, to find out.
Before I fill you in on what’s coming, however, I want to tell you about my visit with Lorelei Tanaka. If you remember way back in Episode Four, I mentioned I was going to meet with her to find out if she knew anything about what might have happened to Melissa.
We had an enlightening conversation. While I was there, she pulled out her yearbook. We found photos of all three of the missing students. I’d only seen the newspaper photos of Raphael and Ariana. Going through the yearbook made them seem so much more real. There were pictures of them doing the things they loved, pictures with their friends, candid shots and posed ones.
One thing that struck me when I looked at Ariana’s photos was that she didn’t look much like pictures from the news outlets. In fact, she looked like a different person in almost every shot, like she changed her appearance to fit the circumstances. I got the feeling acting was in her blood.
Lorelei knew I was trying to find a connection between the three students. We talked about the Raven’s Perch, but agreed since most of the student body went there at one time or another, it wasn’t much of link.
Then Lorelei had an idea. She remembered the drama and film departments worked on projects together occasionally, and thought Raphael and Ariana might have known each other. She suggested I contact the head of the drama department, who believe it or not is still at the school.
