Page 43 of Chosen Path
“Why?”
He almost told her about the odd run-in with the young man he believed to be Derek but stopped himself. He wasn’t quite sure why. He shrugged. “It’s a big city, reasonably nearby.”
She shook her head. “Look, Greg. It’s not the council’s obligation to track down every estranged family member when someone in the community dies. If Corrine and Derek were still in contact, that would be different. But as far as I know, they weren’t. And I’m sure Officers Booth and Perch will make a sufficient effort to find him. If they do, we’ll deal with the fallout then. But let’s not bring trouble down on our heads, okay?”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said reluctantly. What she said made sense, but it did nothing to alleviate the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I am right. We have a more immediate problem.”
He knew what she was about to say. “Doctor Hart.”
“Right. And her friend, the pathologist. He asked me about Derek just now on the street. You can be sure they want to find Derek so they can convince him to authorize an autopsy.”
She didn’t have to say what would happen if that came to pass. They both knew full well.
He sighed heavily. “How did things get so out of control, Kim? The Ättestupa Council’s been handling things since 1838. Back then the villagers had no one else to rely on. Forget impassable roads. Therewereno roads up here. And Scandia Bluff thrived. People pulled together for the greater good. But look at us now.”
“Progress, Greg. That’s what happened. We got a train station, then roads, then telephones. Now we have cell phones and the Internet. We can get to an airport in under two hours. We can order clothes and food and furniture online instead of buying Burke’s honey, and Kit’s scarves, and Nikolas’ handcrafted tables and chairs. The young people go away to college and never come back. Once we stop counting on one another and supporting one another, it’ll only be a matter of time before things start to fall apart.”
“Maybe it’s already begun. Maybe the council’s outlived its purpose. Maybe we should move on,” he mused.
“Maybe, eventually, but we’re not there yet. Not so long as we protect the council and village, Greg. And each other,” she said fiercely.
She was wrong, he knew. It had been a long, gradual decay, but Laura Gardener’s death had been made it clear: the council was on its deathbed.
But he mustered up a smile. “You’re right, Kim. As usual.”
She patted his back. “That’s the spirit. And don’t you worry about Doctor Hart. I’ll fix her wagon.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Thursday
5:00 P.M.
Hope stretched her back and rolled her neck, making a small circle with her head. She’d been hunched over Doc’s files for several hours and her body was demanding a break. She eyed the stacks of folders to her left. She’d worked through six filing cabinets and had removed the files of patients who had died. They were now in a tidy pile on the floor. Off to the side were two other files. Derek’s and her own.
It had taken her a while to get into a groove. Once she grew accustomed to Doctor Larson’s crabbed handwriting and unique abbreviation system, she established a rhythm. She was pleased with her progress. She grabbed Derek’s patient file and the notes she’d jotted down as she reviewed the files of the dead. When she stood up, her stiff knees and back popped and cracked loudly. She sounded like a walking breakfast cereal.
Yep. It was definitely time for a break.
She left the file room and stepped into the magnificent library. She clasped the notepad and file to her chest and paused to soak in her surroundings before sliding the door open and walking out into the empty waiting room to look for Molly and Bodhi. She found them standing on the faded wooden deck off Molly’s kitchen. She wrapped her cardigan around her and went out to join them.
“Brr. What are we looking at?” she asked.
“Molly’s envisioning her future garden,” Bodhi said.
Hope turned her gaze to the weedy, neglected yard. Broken pavement and scrubby grass competed with tall, thorny plants and a handful of scraggly bushes for the title of least attractive element. She was about to crack a joke. But then she caught a glimpse of Molly’s expression. The doctor’s eyes shone and her mouth was parted, her lips turned up in a slight smile. Even in profile she looked at peace. No, more than that, Hope saw joy in Molly’s face. Hope pressed her lips closed and kept her sarcastic comment to herself.
Bodhi gave her a knowing smile. “It takes some imagination to see it, but I think Molly can grow something beautiful here.”
“Definitely,” Hope agreed.
Molly turned toward her. “You’re not wearing a coat. It’s freezing out here. Come on. I can imagine my someday garden from inside.”
Hope raced to the door and the warmth of the kitchen. She rubbed her hands together to create some friction. Bodhi and Molly followed a moment later.
Bodhi glanced at the clock on the wall. “Anyone interested in an early dinner? I can throw together a stir-fry in no time.”
