Solomon's Decision (18 page)

He still missed her, and it had been twenty-six years since...damn! He still felt as
if he'd failed his sister!

The child came closer. Erik met his eyes and lost touch with here and now. Gail's
eyes had been an unusual color, lighter than Erik's own dark brown, the rich yellow-brown
of Baltic amber. Her nose, even at ten, had been long and straight, with a faint indication of
a cleft at the tip. A matching cleft, deep enough to be called a dimple, marked her chin.
Erik was blond, but Gail's hair had been lighter, almost silvery, and dead straight, lacking
even the slightest wave.

Erik looked into his sister's eyes. "Gail?" He heard his voice tremble as his hand
reached out to the tow-headed child.

"Uh-uh. I'm Kyle."

"Let's go," the larger boy said. "I want to show Ma my prize."

"We're gonna do the three legged race," the red-haired girl said. "You're just
gonna have to wait, Denny."

"Aw," he began.

"You promised, Denny," Madeline's image said. "You promised, and you gotta
stay. So there!" Her little chin was set, just as he'd often seen Madeline's.

Erik licked suddenly dry lips. "Kyle?" He touched the younger boy on the
shoulder. "Do you live here?"

"Who are you, mister?" Denny's voice challenged him. He moved to stand
between Erik and the girls, and was trying to push Kyle behind him as well.

"I'm Erik Solomon," he said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Virginia Elaine Pierson," the dark-haired girl said, "and that's my cousin
Denny and my cousin Abby and my brother Kyle." She smiled with heart-stopping pride.
"We're twins."

"Ginger, you're not supposed to talk to strang...."

"He's not a stranger, Denny. He's Mama's assistant. I saw 'em talkin' earlier." Her
smile was as lovely as her mother's.

But Erik couldn't appreciate her smile, for he was, as always, tongue-tied and
unable to think what to say to this charming little girl. He was also still mesmerized by the
uncanny resemblance between the boy--Kyle Pierson--and Gail.

Could he be....No! It was impossible! His mouth was dry, his heart throbbing
heavily in his chest. He had to ask.

"How old are you, Kyle? Seven?"

The boy looked to his sister, reminding Eric of how he'd always let Gail take the
lead. "Not for a while yet."

"Our birthday's the third of August," Ginger said.

"Mine's next week," Abby said, obviously not liking the twins to hog the spotlight
of his attention. "I'm older."

"Pooh," Kyle scoffed. "Only three weeks."

The children's squabbling only registered peripherally. Erik was mentally counting
on his fingers.

"Mama!" Ginger's high, sweet voice sounded over the constant mutter of the
crowd. "Mama, look what we won!" She and Abby were slipping through the crowd like
little eels. Madeline held her breath as her niece nearly knocked the plate of barbecued ribs
out of an older man's hands.

"Look, Aunt Linnie!" Abby held up a shiny disk on a plastic cord. "It's a
medal!"

"I got one too," Ginger said. Hers was bright blue to Abby's green. Both were
inexpensive but pretty, the way they split the sunlight into a thousand shards on their
rainbow surfaces. "We came in fifth."

"I didn't even finish the sack race," Kyle said, coming up and leaning against her.
He looked tired, but happy. "But they gave me a prize anyhow." He dug into his shorts
pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic figure. "See. It's a dinosaur, but I don't know what
kind."

"It's a stegalopolis," Denny said, with the dogmatic confidence of his ten years. "I
saw one in a book at school."

"Of course it is," Madeline agreed, trying hard not to crack a smile. "Did you get a
prize too?"

"Yeah, but it isn't much," Denny said. One grimy hand opened to show her a tin
whistle, about an inch long, attached to a red lanyard. "Its only got one note."
Demonstrating, he nearly broke her eardrums. The one note was loud and shrill. "And a
ribbon." He puffed his chest out, calling her attention to the red rosette with a big gold "2"
in its center.

"Oh, my goodness," Madeline said, "I'll bet you're proud of that."

Denny allowed that he was, but his attention had wandered. "Come on, you guys.
It's time to meet Ma."

Without another word, they all abandoned her, at a dead run as usual. Madeline
sighed, feeling unnecessary, but grateful. Denny was so good with the younger children, so
responsible.

She stood, aware that her feet were tired. Perhaps she should have worn her old
sneakers today, instead of these new ones with their bright pink trim. But they matched her
blouse, and she'd wanted to be beautiful in Erik's eyes. He'd said pink was her best color,
but he'd been speaking of blushes, not blouses.

Her skin grew hot as she recalled the conditions under which Erik had admired her
blush. It hadn't been restricted to her face.

Speaking of Erik, her radar was telling her he was nearby. She wished she were a
little taller, so she could see over the heads of the crowd. She'd never seen so many people
in Garnet Falls in her life. Surely they were approaching the projected attendance.

Golden hair shone in the sunlight and she raised on tiptoe. Madeline knew she was
smiling all over her face. While there was no place they could go where fifty people
wouldn't be watching, she just wanted to be close to him, to touch him, for a moment. Then
she would be revitalized and ready to tackle a few more crises.

He looked at her, but didn't stop walking toward the food booths. He looked at her
and didn't seem to know her.

No, that was wrong. He knew her. She could see that, even at the twenty-five or so
feet that separated them. Erik's stare bore into her like a long, sharp icicle, freezing as it
penetrated, draining all the warmth from her.

A clot of people moved between them. Madeline stood, dazed, staring at where
she'd last seen him.

The clot thinned, dissipated, but he was no longer there. She craned her neck,
looking frantically in the direction he'd been moving, but he had vanished.

"Linnie?"

A deep voice penetrated the fog in which her mind groped. She turned. The sheriff
was standing behind her, looking impatient. "I asked you if you were ready to go to the
bank with me?"

Oh, lord, she'd almost forgotten. A deep breath gave her back her voice, but not
her equanimity.

Why had Erik snubbed her like that?

"Yes, Wally, I guess we'd better," she said, checking her watch. "I hadn't realized
the time." They'd made arrangements for him to escort her to the bank with the money
from all the food booths, so none of them would have too much cash on hand during the
supper rush. She had been supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago.

They stopped at the Baptist Church booth. "Hi, ladies. Have you got lots of money
to go to the bank?" She forced herself to smile. Surely Erik had been distracted and hadn't
even seen her.

If she was going to get through the rest of the day with her sanity intact, she had to
put him out of her mind.

"Things are goin' pretty smooth," Wally commented as they walked back to the
park after making the deposits. Driving was out of the question, with two lines of cars nose
to tail along every street in town. Wally had closed most of the side streets to traffic
anyway, except for service and emergency vehicles.

"Don't say that," she told him. "It's like a flat tire--don't mention it and maybe it
won't happen." She showed her crossed fingers to him. "I've been concentrating on positive
thoughts for the past week."

Maybe that was why she couldn't really believe Erik had deliberately snubbed her.
Surely he'd been focusing on something else and hadn't even seen her.

"Well, keep it up for a few more hours," Wally said, "until after the concert." He
touched two fingers to the bill of his hat as he left her at the ice cream booth.

There were no more emergencies, so her crossed fingers must have been effective.
They didn't, however, prevent minor hitches, so it was well after the concert began before
she was able to take a break. And she didn't see Erik again, though she watched for him all
evening.

Thanks to an excellent sound system, she at least got to hear Trace Pickett
sing.

* * * *

Madeline didn't know where he was, where he'd slept. Erik hadn't come to her
house last night, as he had said he would. The Picketts had still been in his room over the
Wooden Nickel, so he'd had nowhere to go.

"Linnie, are you listening?"

She jumped and almost knocked over her coffee mug. "I'm sorry, Amelia. I was
wool gathering."

"Well, pay attention. Wally needs an answer as soon as possible."

An answer? She hadn't even heard the question. "I'm sorry," she apologized again.
"I can't seem to wake up. What is it Wally needs to know?"

"Those motor homes. Some of the people want to stay at the fairgrounds until
tomorrow. He says it's our responsibility. Something about insurance."

Madeline shook her head, trying to clear it. "Insurance? Oh, sure. Our special
liability policy covers us until Monday morning. I don't see any reason why they can't stay,
as long as they don't make a mess."

"That's what I told him."

Well, why did you ask me?
Madeline's head ached already. She knew
Amelia wasn't usually this indecisive, for she'd sat through numerous County Commission
meetings where her friend had kept the men to the topic at hand until a resolution was
reached. "When is Erik coming in?" she said, hating herself for needing to know. If he
hadn't cared enough to let her know he wouldn't be home--listen to her!--wouldn't return to
her house for a second night, she shouldn't care if she ever saw him again.

"Probably not until tomorrow," Amelia said. "He decided to go with the Picketts
when they left, early this morning." Amelia's voice held a gentle question, one Madeline
hope she wouldn't put into words.

"Oh." She tried to make herself sound nonchalant. "He didn't tell me, but I guess
there's no reason why he should. Who's going to take care of the money, then?"

"Everything's copacetic, Linnie." Lester reached across her plate to top off her
hardly-touched coffee. "Something wrong with your eggs?"

She looked down. The liquid yolks were stirred into her hashbrowns and the
whole congealed mass sat in her plate. She poked her fork into it and realized that nothing
could convince her it was edible. "I guess I'm just not hungry," she said apologetically.
With an effort, she took a bite of her toast. It was cold and she almost gagged as she forced
herself to swallow.

"Erik and me, we counted all that money last night and made out a deposit. I'll
take it to the bank first thing tomorrow." He pulled a chair from a nearby table and
straddled it at the end of their booth, leaning his massive arms on its back. "He and Trace
hadn't had much time to catch up on old times, and I told him to scat. I didn't do much
gettin' ready for the Social, so's the least I can do is help clean up afterward."

Lester had been generous with contributions of food and other supplies for the
Social in the past, but he'd always said he was too busy to give his time. Madeline
wondered how Erik had managed to convince him otherwise. Or had it been Amelia?

She pressed her lips together to keep from asking Lester if Erik had seemed angry
with her. "Look, I've got to go. It's not that I don't trust everyone to clean up their messes,
but...."

"Go along with you," Amelia said. "I'm just going to have just one more cup, and
I'll be off myself." She smiled at Lester and held out her cup. His answering smile made
Madeline ache with loneliness. Erik had smiled at her just that way a little over
twenty-four hours ago. And now he was gone without a word.

* * * *

Damn Charlie Bittenbusch anyhow. Erik had just waved goodbye to Trace and his
wife last night when the commissioner had come pounding on the door. "I've got a deal
you can't afford to pass up," he'd said, hinting that it would complete the funding package
for Wounded Bear Meadow.

Erik had agreed to come with him this morning because it was still too soon to
confront Madeline.

Maybe he should have stayed in town yesterday, while his anger was still fresh,
before he'd had time to brood about her betrayal. Certainly he should have slammed the
door in Charlie's face last night, instead of caving to his demand.

It was a good thing he and Trace were old friends, forgiving of each other's
foibles. Otherwise he might have found himself walking home from Hell's Canyon. He'd
been silent and surly far too often yesterday. Worse, he was afraid his apology to the
Picketts had sounded grudging, rather than sincere. How Sarah Pickett could have kissed
him and wished him good luck with whatever was eating at him spoke volumes for the
woman's Christian charity.

And now this...this latest wild goose chase of Charlie's.
God knows I've plenty
else to do today.
And the first task would be to pry the truth out of Madeline.

The truth he already knew.

"I figure she got herself knocked up on one of them business trips...." Alf
Wallace's words echoed in his memory as Erik tried to push his foot through the firewall of
Charlie's car.

No! Madeline would never be so dishonest as to use him to father her
child...children, and never tell him he was a father. Kyle's uncanny resemblance to Gail
was simply one of those bizarre coincidences.

That's all.

Coincidence.

He had been careful. In his entire adult life Erik had never assumed the women he
was intimate with were on the pill or otherwise protected against pregnancy. He wasn't a
stud, but he was human. If the opportunity presented itself, if he liked and respected the
woman, he'd never walked away from a sexual encounter. It was a matter of pride with
him, however, that almost all of them had been long-term, rather than one night
stands.