The Long Road Home Part 36

Nora lazily shuffled the papers. "Here," she said, handing him a memo, "and here, and those over there. I wonder who she is."

C.W. didn't answer. He studied the memos, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the information. A faint blush spread along his ears as he pored over the memos. When he bent to search through the letters, his fingers began to shake. He couldn't believe it. It was all here: deals, loans, illegal banking activities-all in cahoots with Agatha Blair. He had the proof he needed! And it was better than he had hoped. He had to hold himself from laughing out loud.

C.W. pounded his fist in his cupped hand like a baseball pitcher about to throw the winning pitch. Nora recognized that glint of triumph and slowly straightened in her seat.

"What's going on here?"

He paced the floor, still rubbing his hands. Lady luck had at last surfaced; the final piece was in place. All he needed to do now was get to New York and start the game.

"C.W.?" Nora's voice was more insistent.

He stopped his pacing and stood before her, searching for the words to rea.s.sure her. No matter what excuse he came up with, it wouldn't suffice. At this point, he had to open the window to truth. Running his hand through his hair, C.W. walked to her and squeezed her shoulder.

She raised her beautiful eyes to his; small worry lines pinched at their corners.

"I think I have a way to ease your difficulties at the bank."

Nora stiffened in surprise.

C.W. swung around another chair to face hers and clasped his palms together, leaning forward on his knees. "Some of Mike's bank activities were clearly illegal."

"Good G.o.d, what's next?"

"A lot, if this is uncovered. He dealt with one bank in particular, one person in that bank. And these-" he grabbed a handful of papers "-are the proof."

"It has to be the Blair Bank," she exclaimed. "And Charles Blair...I knew he was connected with this! Is this Agatha connected with Blair? If so, let's go after them."

C.W. lowered her back into her seat with a gentle pressure from his hand. "Slow down. This is extremely delicate. It could all backfire, and with Mike's implication, the authorities could seize all your personal a.s.sets. That would include this farm."

He saw confusion then alarm register on Nora's features and he inched his chair closer till their knees touched. "I've told you before that I'm working on this farm while I sort out my life. I'm not a farmer or a hired hand."

"That much I figured out."

"I thought as much." He patted her knee. "I worked at a bank. Yes." He nodded. "I knew of your husband-who didn't? I left New York and I never wanted to return. But I will. I must. I know people in the business and have connections."

"But how will any of this help me?"

"Silence is a precious commodity, Nora. You owe the Blair Bank tons of bucks. These papers can buy plenty. Could save you this farm."

Dawning slowly reflected in her eyes. "Silence is golden."

"Exactly. I'll need to bring these papers to the right people and negotiate for you. Trust me, Nora. This is my bailiwick, I know what I'm doing."

"I should come with you. It's my problem."

"No. You're too vulnerable, and frankly, I'd do better alone. Will you let me take these papers?"

Nora could not quite believe what he was asking. Take Mike's personal papers to his New York connections? She always suspected that C.W. was educated, sophisticated. But a New York banker-with connections?

"Lord, Mr. Walker. You certainly know how to drop a few bombs. This is a lot to swallow all at once."

"I know. It's not by choice, but time is of the essence here."

"Was that one of your 'connections' on the phone?"

"Yes, it was."

"I see." Part of her was glad he admitted that much. "You really think you can do this...without my help? After all, I am Mrs. MacKenzie. Mike's name still opens doors."

Slams them, more likely, he thought. "I'm quite sure."

Nora looked at her hands. Mr. Walker, the banker, wanted her to hand over the only protection she had: Mike's papers. By doing that she gave him custody of her future.

"I don't know," she said.

"Nora, listen to me. Think about what I'm asking. This is not just about the bank. It's about us. It's about trust. Trust me, please. Trust yourself-trust us."

A moment pa.s.sed without words. Part of her wanted to accept his plea, to trust the man she had come to love. Another part called her a fool and warned her to guard against her nature. Mike's last words haunted her: "Don't trust anyone."

But there it was. "Trust me." A covenant offered, a promise begged. Nora closed her eyes. How far did trust extend? She raised her gaze and looked across the short distance at C.W. With this man, trust extended as far as it took.

"Yes," she agreed hesitantly. "You may take them. Except the journal. There are some...well, it's too personal."

"I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know."

"Agreed, then. With the exception of the journal, I'll take these papers and memos, and the ledger, to New York. But I may need access to the journal later."

"The ledger too?"

"Most definitely. Is that agreeable?"

"Yes." The word rolled off her tongue, leaving her without anything else to say.

C.W.'s chest expanded. Nora's love for him manifested itself in that one word: Yes.

"I realize," he said, taking her hand, "believe me, darling, I do, that you have been patient with me and that this const.i.tutes blind faith."

"There are some things worth fighting for."

The light in C.W.'s eyes brightened at the rallying call, then changed from warm to hard as he tapped his fingers in agitated thought. Nora saw immediately that he was already in New York.

"I'll leave tomorrow. I don't know how long I'll be, but I'll be back to you, and to our farm, just as soon as I can."

C.W. was using that deep slow voice he always used when the issues were important and he wanted to be sure he was understood. He brought her to him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Tonight they seemed even more thin and frail.

"Ah, Nora," he said against her temple. "These separations are no good for you. You will a.n.a.lyze and mull over your problems and eventually try to distance yourself. Yes, you will. I know you too well."

"I love you," she murmured brokenly against his chest. C.W. closed his eyes tightly. He'd make this period of suffering up to her, he vowed. And he prayed it would take him the rest of their lives.

They walked out to the deck and stared up at the sky. The storm was long gone and October's normal crisp air made the stars s.h.i.+ne like brilliants. Tonight, they could even see the Milky Way streak a quarter moon.

Nora and C.W. stood together, arm in arm, each praying that wishes did come true.

Two days later, Nora raced for the phone, thinking that it might be C.W. with some news. "h.e.l.lo?" she gasped, out of breath. It was her auctioneer in New York.

"Walton! Is everything all right?" She glanced at the calendar; only two days until her auction.

"I only wish, darling."

She swallowed hard and leaned against the counter. From the corner of her eye she saw Esther turn around and raise her brows. Nora waved her back with a shaky hand.

"Spell it out," she said.

"D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R. Word's out that you can't set a minimum bid."

"No." Nora's knees felt weak. "That secret was buried deep."

"Dealers live under rocks. And they thrive on secrets. The phone's been ringing off the hook for tickets to the advance showing. And all from big name dealers. Darling, it's going to be a b.u.mpy ride."

"They'll set the prices."

"It's already happening."

Nora didn't know whether to laugh or cry. After Mike's disaster, then the farm disaster-was this a trend?

"What do you suggest?" she asked without much hope.

"You've got to squelch the nasty rumor that you're broke.

I don't know how, but if you don't, it's all over."

"How can I squelch it? It's the truth!"

"Can't you talk to someone at the bank? Cry? Plead? Good G.o.d, sweetie, blackmail them if you have to."

"Hold them back, Walton," she said, an idea formulating in her brain. "I'll leave today. And don't worry. I'll think of something."

Nora hung up the phone, amazed at how still her hand was.

"Are the auction people causing a problem?" Esther asked, wiping her hands.

"Unfortunately." Nora rubbed her temples.

"Too bad C.W. isn't here to talk to. He has got lots of good ideas."

"Uh-huh," she agreed, keeping his whereabouts a secret. C.W. hadn't called and she didn't know how to contact him. She desperately needed to talk to him. What did he say? Silence could buy plenty? He had all her main papers, and the ledger was gone. That was the bulk of her ammunition. Nora's heart skipped. She still had the journal.

Nora scooped up the dishes and tossed them in the sink. "Pies can wait, Esther. I'm going to New York."

Esther jumped from her stool. "Take me with you!"

"Oh, Esther. This isn't the time."

"Yes, it is! For me. Please, Nora." She clasped her doughy hands together. "I stayed for Pa, but now he's gone. Frank will handle things here just fine. I've got enough money. For the first time in my life there is nothing holding me back. If I don't get out of here right now I might never have the courage again. Please, Nora."

What else could she do? Esther was her friend. "All right," she said, giving Esther an impulsive hug. "I only hope you have a better life there than I did."

"Oh, G.o.d. Thanks, Nora. I will. I know I will."

"Say your good-byes to May and the kids. And to John Henry."

They gripped each other in a sisterly hug. Nora could smell the country in Esther's hair and, for a brief second, prayed it would always stay there.

31.

SIDNEY NERVOUSLY ARRANGED the files on the surface of his black desk, checked the Windsor knot of his tie, then eyed the clock for the third time in as many minutes. At precisely two o'clock his secretary notified him, in an awed tone, that Mr. Charles Blair was here to see him.

Quickly, Sidney touched his damp palms to his wool trousers and stood as his office door swung open. He stepped around his desk, grin wide and arm outstretched to his colleague, brother-in-law, and president of the bank.

To his credit, Sidney did not break his stride when he saw Charles walk in. Gone was the wild-haired, lumberjack appearance. Charles was immaculate, even elegant, in his navy double-breasted suit. His hair and nails were trimmed and polished, he was freshly shaven, and there was no trace of the dark circles under angry eyes that Sidney remembered from their last meeting. Charles had the sleek, dangerous look of a shark in shallow waters.

Greetings were brief. Charles did not take a seat. Sidney was so unnerved by Charles's cold demeanor that he didn't know whether to sit or stand. He stuck his hands in his pockets and ended up standing by default.

"I'll be brief and to the point," Charles said, holding his hands behind his back and standing with his feet an arrogant distance apart.

Sidney nodded in compliance and wondered how the h.e.l.l this man could walk back in after a rocky scandal and a year's mysterious disappearance and still have the bearing of a king. For despite the current turmoil, Charles Walker Blair was still the king inside this bank.

"This unfortunate affair with the bank loans has grown out of my control," Charles said evenly. "I intend to resign."

Sidney's mouth dropped into a silent no, then he cleared his throat. "I don't think it's come to that yet," Sidney said, his panic rising.

"I wrote the ethics code for this bank. No one has to tell me I'm out," Charles cut him off.

Sidney's face tightened.

"I have a proposition for you, Sidney. The MacKenzie collection will auction off a van Gogh. I intend to offer the successful bidder my controlling interest in the Blair Bank in exchange for that painting."

Sidney paled and his hands lifted from his pockets. "Are you mad?" he burst out before he could stop it.