Chapter Nine
February 13th. 2009© 2005 Kimberly J. Fish
This is a work of fiction
An Emerald Marks the Spot
Chapter nine
Kali hated to leave Brad to Olivia’s care, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She shifted the vintage telephone table in between bedroom doors so she could pull down the attic stairs. She still couldn’t believe she was in Annalise’s house searching for the William’s family engagement ring. The only treasure she’d ever cherished.
The night Brad had proposed telling her the story of the emeralds’ heritage, she known she’d never be given a greater gift. For the three months she’d worn the ring, she’d felt like a princess. They’d agreed to keep the engagement under wraps due to graduation requirements and final exams, but it was the hardest secret she’d ever kept. How did one hide total happiness? Not well, as she remembered a professor asking if she’d taken jello shots before class. With almost no effort, she could easily remember lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling and watching the movie of “The Brad and Kali Story” play out overheard. They were going to be clear-headed and forward-thinking about the tricky balance of beginning a law practice with ranching. She’d planned to specialize in agricultural issues and had already met with a law professor to get some guidance. Brad was interested in exploring the new ideas of harnessing wind energy and he couldn’t wait to see if the ranch could accommodate turbines and cattle.
Kali climbed off the attic steps, avoiding the Christmas decorations and the rest of her broken heart shambles. No need to let the three dark-headed children step through her memories too.
Their story was never meant to be, that’s all there was to it.
Wiping her hands on the back of her Levis, Kali surveyed the dark corner where they’d found the first box. The shadows scared her. Though she was a practical woman by nature, there was no getting around some unexplainable neuroses.
Kali drew in a ragged breath and headed over toward Ringo Starr. Because of his cardboard height, he was right in the middle of the angled roof and nearest the single bulb radiating a pitiful amount of light.
Despite every inclination to fight for a reasonable approach to finding the emeralds, she’d dropped a day’s worth of work to hurry Brad along. Thanfully, in a few hours she could hide again in Comfort. She’d never deny that goat farming and cheese making gave her inordinate pleasure, well at the least the accolades and growing check balances, but the real blessing of finding the raw acreage along the Guadalupe River a few miles outside Comfort had been the noticeable lack of unmarried men. In Washington, she’d been hounded and at first she’d thrown herself into the whirl to help forget she’d ever been in love. After a while, the drudgery of polite conversations, first date politics and finding that few could compare to Brad’s standard just wore her out. The endless good intentions of happily-married friends, and their chides that she just wasn’t giving these guys a chance, almost made her consider an international move . . .to Iceland.
Kali lifted boxes marked with various people’s names and universities. Annalise had been reluctant to throw out any of her nieces’ mementos. She used to say reflecting on the past reminded one of how far the journey had progressed. She also used to say, God gave us memories to teach.
Fat lot of good that was doing now, Kali grumbled. The only truth she’d learned today was . . .scabs don’t always heal.
There was only one other box with her name on it and it contained a polyester prom dress, a scrapbook from high school and the small stack of letters she’d received from her mother over the years. Kali picked up the fragile envelopes, tied in blue ribbons. The old-style keepsake reminded Kali of the Anne of Green Gables movie she’d watched over and over again until the VHS tape split. For a brief time, she’d inhabited Anne. Kali smiled. This could explain that summer she’d dated the guy from Toronto.
After she weighed the skimpy letters, most tear-filled recriminations about the injustices of life and little about love and forgiveness, Kali bent over to search for the small, carved fruit-wood box Annalise had given her for high school graduation. A tiny key fell from between the envelopes.
Kali heard the key ping against the pine flooring otherwise its leaded hue would have blended right into the shadows. She felt the thin metal between her fingers. Heat warmed her skin. This key opened her keepsake box.
If only the box were anywhere in storage. Kali shuffled a few more belongings; convinced most of the odds and ends could be donated to Good Will. Tucking the letters into her back pocket and the key into a front, Kali determined the box had ended up somewhere else. Or there was another storage box somewhere up here, maybe behind her uncle’s war memorabilia, but she wasn’t going through the rafters without daylight as a guide.
Finding her way to the stairs, she climbed down into the air conditioned hallway. Brad would have to wait. Then she remembered his dying mother.
So maybe she’d make arrangements with Olivia to come back tomorrow.
Dusting her hands on her backside, Kali folded the stairs back into the ceiling. Jumping to give the stiff brackets a final oomph, she backed into a warm body.
“So, I’m guessing you found what you were looking for?”
When Brad studied her like she was the answer to all life’s problems it was hard to answer. She’d gone a long time without someone staring into her eyes like she was worth a million kisses. Corners from the letters poked her back and she wiggled a bit. “Um, no, not really. I’m sorry.”
Brad’s expression dimmed. “But you were gone for a really long time.”
“I couldn’t find it. I’d like to come back tomorrow when there’s better light. Maybe I overlooked a box or something.”
“Or maybe you’ve decided finders keepers was part of the original law code.”
Kali stood straighter, but when she did the letters scraped against the hem of her t-shirt causing her to shift uncomfortably. “I did not.”
”You’re hiding something.” Brad’s eyes narrowed on her shirt, specifically on the cleavage revealed by a very washed, very stretched under shirt.
“Oh, my word,” she hissed stamping her foot. “I did not hide the ring there!”
To be continued