Chapter Two. I was dumbfounded. What were the odds of meeting her like this?

I was dumbfounded. What were the odds of meeting her like this?

Hannah broke my thoughts. "Well now, what say we get off the road before we're all run over? How about we take my cart?"

She was serious. She frightened me. "How about we leave the Hannahmobile here and take my car?" I offered hopefully.

We all looked at my car, nestled against the maple tree. I turned to my companions. Hannah grinned evilly.

"The Hannahmobile?" she offered. "I'll let you drive." Yeah, that was a big incentive.

As soon as we got into the cart, my daffy dog immediately attacked Hannah's face, slobbering all over her. Hannah laughed and ruffled her ears. Margaret climbed in the back and my fickle canine immediately found her new best friend and laid her head on Margaret's lap. What a colossal traitor.

As I was about to pull away, a truck with a trailer pulled up and an elderly gentleman got out.

Hannah leaned across me, and screeched right in my ear, "Bedford! Bedford, for heaven's sakes!" She looked to me. "It's Bedford, and he's a little hard of hearing." Again, she shrieked, "Bedford, over here!"

"It's Bedford," I said simply to Chance.

I glanced at Margaret. I almost saw a smile.

Bedford made his way over to my side of the car with a terrible limp, and, for some absurd reason, the face of Dracula's insect-eating ghoul, Renfield, flashed through my mind. I tiredly rubbed the back of my neck. I glanced at my watch...much too early for a cocktail.

Bedford leaned so far into the cart that I thought that he was going to climb right in with us. "Good morning, Miss Winfield," he said.

"Good morning, Bedford," came simultaneous replies.

Hannah leaned past me and looked out at Bedford. "Bedford, take the creature back to the stables. Under no circumstance is anyone to ride that beast." She turned and looked at her niece. "And I mean anyone."

I glanced back, Miss Winfield said nothing.

"Yes, ma'am." Bedford went to the horse.

The minute the horse saw him, he snorted and stamped, so it took Bedford several minutes to get him into the trailer. I had no idea how the diminutive Miss Winfield managed to stay on that horse.

"Well now, let's be off," Hannah ordered.

I started the cart and promptly received different directions from each woman.

Hannah was chattering away with her niece as we pulled onto another tree-lined road, which took us deeper into the woods. I was suddenly aware of an anxious feeling sweeping through me. You know that feeling of anticipation one has when starting an adventurous vacation? I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I glanced around the quiet woods. No, this anxious feeling in my gut was not the thrill of an adventure. When the sprawling estate burst into the view, I shivered quickly and found myself glancing nervously around the quiet woods. I glanced at Hannah Winfield. Why did these two women suddenly become quiet?

Hidden back in the woods was a sprawling two-story Georgian brick with an enormous greenhouse attached on the left, and a very large garage on the right, complete with what looked like a small apartment over it.

Radiant burnt-orange ivy covered the front of the house and I could only imagine how many rooms there were. A path led from the house to a stable back on the left about thirty yards away, and then off into the woods.

I pulled up the circular drive and stopped at the front door. When I got out, Chance also jumped out and began running around in circles as if for dear life.

"Don't worry, let her run, poor thing," Hannah said.

I turned to Margaret and saw her struggling to get out of the back of the cart. I went and offered my hand without saying a word. She looked up, said nothing, and took my hand. She started to walk, but couldn't.

Hannah screeched for Bedford again. Like nails on a blackboard, it went right through me.

"Oy," I mumbled as my eyes crossed. I had such a headache.

By her reaction, I could tell Miss Winfield felt the same. "Christ, it's too early in the morning for this. Aunt Hannah, please, I don't need Bedford. I can get in the house fine."

"You say Christ far too much for my liking, young lady. Why in the world do you use that word so much?" Hannah asked.

"I was wondering the same thing myself." I couldn't help myself as I felt the blue eyes glaring.

"Can we just get into the house?" Margaret asked vehemently, slowly limping toward the front door.

"Oh, all right, but once we get inside I'm calling Doc Jenkins," Hannah said.

Once inside, I felt very much at home, but still the anxious feeling nagged. Dark oak gave the foyer a warm, cozy feeling. What you first noticed was the large staircase as you enter the foyer. To the left was what I assumed was a library, or perhaps a den, and to the right, a living room.

So, being totally female, or more correctly, just plain nosy, I craned my neck to see into the living room, wondering what lay beyond. "Which way do we go, Miss Winfield?"

"Let's go into the living room, to the right," she said. She sounded exhausted.

I helped her to the couch and propped her foot up on a pillow. I didn't take her boot off because I remembered a bit of first aid: Never, ever, remove a shoe if you sprain an ankle, because it will blow up like a huge blowfish. I'd just let the doctor do that when he got there so I could blame him.

Hannah appeared wheeling in a small teacart. "Miss Ryan...may I call you Kate?"

"Please, we've been through far too much in one morning to be formal," I said.

"Good, then I shall call you Kate, and you can call me Hannah, or Aunt Hannah if you prefer." She seemed so excited. I could tell she loved having people around. She looked at her niece. "Now, what about you, dear?"

"I would prefer not to be called Aunt Hannah or Kate if you don't mind."

I chuckled at that one. Hannah wasn't that amused, or at least she didn't show it.

"Don't be sarcastic, you know what I mean. Do you want Kate to call you Maggie or Margaret or just plain stubborn?"

"I opt for just plain stubborn," I said.

"Whatever."

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Hannah looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Call her Maggie." She went to Maggie and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear, all will work out. I'll call Doc right away."

I sat down in an unbelievably comfortable chair across from Maggie. I took a cup from the tray. "Would you like coffee or tea?" I asked.

"Tea, plain, would be perfect," she said.

As I poured her tea, Hannah announced that the doctor would arrive any minute.

"Aunt Hannah, I'm all right. I'm just tired," Maggie admitted, sounding every bit of it.

"Nonsense, I'll not have my niece splattered all over the road and not have her properly looked after," she said and then saw my horrified look. "No offense Kate."

Maggie offered a smug grin. "You want to see Doc, that's all."

"Why you little... I never heard such drivel! You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Hannah blustered and stalked back toward what I presumed was the kitchen.

We sat drinking our tea in relative silence until Maggie said, "So, what brings you to our little hamlet, besides the urge to knock people off their horses?"

I decided to ignore her accusation. "I heard about your town from a friend of mine. She said she'd driven through a few months ago and said it was quite picturesque. I thought I could get a few good shots this time of year. So, here I am." It was almost the whole truth, but I still felt uncomfortable lying to her.

"So, I gather you're some kind of amateur picture taker," she said.

"Amateur? I'll have you know that in my circle, I am much respected."

"Pretty small circle?"

"Small circle?" I replied, feeling like parrot. "Look, do you know how close I came to winning the..." I looked away and shook my head. "Why am I explaining myself to you?"

Hannah came out of the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. "I can hear you all the way in the kitchen, what's going on?"

"Aunt Hannah, did you know we were in the company of a great photographer?" Maggie asked.

I looked up at the ceiling, and counted to ten.

"I thought I recognized you! Margaret, dear, this is the photographer I told you about last month," she said, looking at me. "Her photos have been all over. I understand they're in great demand by wildlife and conservation journals across the Midwest. Didn't your photos of that beautiful bird help the conservationists in Wisconsin? I thought I read about that somewhere."

My mouth dropped open. I had no idea anyone would remember that...it was three years ago.

Hannah looked at her niece, who looked as dumbfounded as I. "Yes sweetie, she's that Kate Ryan. Now close your mouth and apologize." She turned, took her teacart, and just like that she was gone, again.

We both stared at the door like a couple of idiots then laughed. I offered my hand to Maggie. "Pax?"

She looked surprised. "Pax," she finally agreed, shaking my hand.

I was slightly impressed she knew the Latin term for peace. It's not that unheard of, but I was impressed nonetheless. "I didn't think someone your age would know Latin."

" My age?"

The doorbell rang and, like a bat out of hell, Hannah flew out of the kitchen to answer it. For a second I thought she was wearing roller skates.

I couldn't quite make out what was said at the door, but Hannah quickly ushered in a handsome elderly gentleman... and I do mean gentleman.

His hair is what struck me first. It was thick, wavy and snow white. He was at least 6'2" with steely blue eyes and an Errol Flynn-type mustache. He looked at Maggie, then me, then back at Maggie.

"Well young lady, what is it this time?" he asked gruffly.

"She knocked me off my horse," Maggie said, accusingly.

I stood there gaping, not saying a word.

"Really? I heard you were on Thunder," he said then turned to Hannah and me. "Would you two excuse me? I have to examine the patient."

As we walked to the kitchen, I heard Maggie say to the old doctor, "I'm fine, Doc, nothing broken. A mild sprain I'm sure..."

The kitchen was enormous, light and airy with counter space everywhere. An island in the middle was surrounded by four barstools. We sat at a breakfast area in the far corner, in front of a huge picture window that had a lovely view of the surrounding woods.

"I am sorry about all this, Hannah. I feel very responsible," I said.

"Nonsense, you've done nothing. Margaret should never have been on Thunder. He's got a wild streak in him. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"If I'd been going a little faster, or if your niece was riding a little faster, which is hard to imagine, she could have been seriously hurt. But I have to wonder why she was riding that wild horse so fast, especially on a main road." I stopped and gave Hannah an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I ask too many questions. Comes from my father, the detective."

She watched me for a long moment then looked out the window. "Do you know that I've lived here my whole life? Nothing stays the same, you know. Everything changes, and not always for the better." She looked directly at me. "Not always for the better."

A shiver ran up my spine at her uneasy tone. I really should have stayed home and done the laundry.

Hannah smiled as we sat at the kitchen table. "I can tell you're intrigued, but I hope it's not a story, or photos, for your magazine that you're after. Kate, my dear, you have an honest face, and I like you."

I felt guilty. I had to tell them I knew more about them than I was letting on. "Hannah, before you go on, I have to tell you. I know two of Maggie's friends. They spoke with me a while ago and told me about Maggie. This morning, when this happened, I swear I had no idea who you were. Then, when it dawned on me, I..."

"Kate, you don't need to explain. I remember talking to those nice girls as well. They told me of a friend of theirs who might help. It's you?"

"Yes, but..."

She put her hand on mine. "I'm going to tell you a little story. I believe I can trust you. It will feel good to tell someone. Where should I start? Six months ago, Maggie's father, my brother, Jonathan Winfield, was killed in a hit-and-run accident in Chicago."

"Hit-and-run? Did they ever find the guy?" I asked.

"No. The driver was never found," Hannah replied, sadly.

"I'm sorry for interrupting."

"That's all right, dear. Now, about two months ago, certain curious things began happening. I suppose I should let Margaret tell you about them. To be honest, I think she needs someone to talk to. Someone objective, like you. She's been so cut off from everyone of late. You're actually the first outsider to come into this house in several months. Maggie's barely gone to visit friends even." She Hannah seemed agitated, looking away from me before saying, "Well, there is Allison, but who actually wants her around anyway?"

I was curious about this last comment especially. However, I said nothing as she continued.

"I worry about her. She needs to join the human race again and see people other than family. Although lately family seems to be all we have. You see our family all live relatively close. My other brother, Nathan, and his wife, Sarah, live about a quarter mile west. This estate is somewhat of a compound, so to speak. I probably shouldn't bother you with our family details, but it does feel good to talk to someone detached from this," she finished with a tired smile.

"Well, I don't want to pry or intrude, but I've been told I lend a pretty good ear. So, I don't mind if you don't," I said. I watched her suddenly weary face as she looked out the window and found myself wanting to comfort her. However, not knowing her at all, I felt like I was trespassing.

"You can ask me anything you like Kate, anything at all."

"Where is Maggie's mother?"

"She died twenty years ago when Margaret was a young girl."

"That's terrible. How did she die?" I asked. Hannah searched my face as I waited.

"Miranda was like a sister to me. I loved her the minute Jonathan brought her home. Everybody did. Miranda was a sweet, wonderful woman who always seemed to be laughing. She was smart, attractive and loved her family. She married someone she thought she loved. She was in love, but Jonathan didn't know how to love her back. However, Miranda had a weak side where Jonathan was concerned. He bullied her sometimes. I don't know why. She took it and I don't know why. Then, again, Jonathan was like our father."

I waited for her to continue and when she didn't I felt uneasy. "Uh, was that a bad thing?"

Hannah let out a small snort. "Well, it wasn't good. You see my father Alexander Winfield loved money and loved power, but had no clue how to love people. He was rarely at home, and Jonathan unfortunately, was the same. They were like mirror images. Jonathan started working harder and being at home less. He would spend weeks at a time away on business and come home only long enough to see that all was fine before he was gone again."

"That had to be as hard on Miranda with her husband, as it must have been for you and your father." I was still wondering why she avoided my question of Miranda's death.

"It was. It's no secret my father had a wandering eye, which Mother was tempted, I'm sure, to remove on more than one occasion."

We both laughed as she continued. "Miranda and I spent so much time together in those days that we became like sisters. I made sure she was not alone. We spent a lot of time with Nathan and Sarah. Still, I knew she missed Jon. When she found out she was pregnant, I thought that would bring them closer and bring Jon home more. In fact, after Margaret was born, everything seemed fine for a whole year, but then he went back to his old ways. I remember at a dinner party, even Nathan got angry at Jon, and Nathan rarely got angry at anyone." When she smiled this time, I could see how much she loved her younger brother. "Nathan is a very affable fellow. He's so different from Father and Jonathan; he's more like mother and me. But he's married to a hard woman. Sarah can be tough as nails." I could hear the sadness in her voice. "I'm sorry, my dear. I didn't mean to go on so. You caught us all at a bad time. Would you like another cup of tea?"

"No, thank you. Please go on."

She got up and poured herself another cup of tea. "Our parents had a great deal of money. My father had a knack for buying up companies and selling them at a great profit. He made millions because he was rather ruthless at it all. When he died, Jonathan fully took over the business he'd been helping Father run for so many years. Jonathan was just as ruthless as Father, and, just like Father, Jonathan knew business, but didn't know people.

"Nathan on the other hand knew a great deal about people, but very little about business. Becoming a doctor was something he always wanted. He and Walt went to the University of Chicago together. Walt was a brilliant student..."

"Sorry, who's Walt?" I asked, feeling the conversation getting away from me.

"Dr. Walt Jenkins. He's the handsome man out there examining my stubborn niece. He's known around town as Doc, but I call him Walt," she said and I heard the affection in her voice. She then blushed and cleared her throat. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, poor Nathan. Medical school was a little more difficult for him. He struggled, but got through. He has a small practice in Galena, mostly wealthy old women with nothing to do all day but complain," she said and shook her head. "If I ever get like that I hope somebody shoots me."

"I can't imagine you ever being that old," I said smiling. I really liked her. "So tell me, Hannah. Did you go into the family business as well?"

"Good heavens, no. I spend most of my time on the Board of Directors at the clinic, and I love charity work. My father used to tell me I'd give it all away if I could. I suppose he was right. Jon chastised me severely for the very same thing. Sarah was the brains behind getting the clinic up and running. She's also been the fund-raiser from the beginning."

"Which clinic are we talking about?"

"I'm sorry, dear. The Winfield Clinic. My father Alexander started it way back when. Anyway, I was very wise with my share of the inheritance, as was Jonathan, who had controlling interest in both the clinic and Father's business. Nathan wasn't wise at all. He and his wife Sarah spent it like there was no tomorrow. They would travel and spend. Jonathan felt he was making money for the company so Nathan could throw it away. He would tell Nathan he was weak, letting Sarah wear the pants. And make no mistake, she does to this day.

"Now, Nathan's and Sarah's son Charlie is taking up where his father left off. He takes trips abroad, alone, to have his little flings. He's lost, though. He's the wandering son of a weak father. Sarah dotes on him, as she always has. However, I notice tension between all three of them whenever we are together."

"Hannah, what was Charlie like as a kid?"

"God, when he was younger he was full of the devil...a typical boy. He and Maggie never got along. He was quite a bully actually. Sarah spoiled him and Nathan allowed it, I'm afraid. Even Jonathan tried to step in on several occasions but I think he hindered Charlie more than helped him. He should have taken such interest in his own daughter," she said with a wry chuckle. "I personally think Jon never understood or wanted to know about Margaret's lifestyle and the fact that she's gay. He was wrong and I told him so. Don't get me wrong, he loved Margaret, but as I said, he didn't know people. The fact that she is gay happens to be the way God made her. That's very liberal for an old broad, eh? But don't you feel the same way about yourself, Kate?" she asked me directly and smiled broadly.

I was caught completely off guard. I remembered when I told my family. It was a little hard on my father and mother. My father thought he had done something wrong in his parenting...like maybe they should have made me wear a dress more often, and not let me play softball, or climb trees with the boys as much. I explained to him that he did everything right, and he and my mother let me be myself. What more can you do for a child?

My sister Teri, on the other hand, knew all along. She and Mac, my brother-in-law, loved me unconditionally. They all loved me, not in spite of being gay, but because I was Kate.

I looked to see Hannah sporting a contagious smile that made me smile in return. "Boy, you're good," I said. "I'm not even going to ask you how you knew. And to answer your question, yes, I feel the very same way. I have always been comfortable with myself. I like who I am. Being gay is a part of me like my hair or my skin. It's who I am."

I told her of my family, and how they felt about my being gay. "I'm very fortunate to have a family that loves me. Maggie is lucky to have you even if you do drive around in a golf cart. Why in the world do you, by the way?"

"I was in a little accident a few months ago. I was driving Margaret's car and when I tried to stop the brakes gave way. I wasn't going too fast but I slammed into the side of a building and injured my hip. It was hard for me to get in and out of a car and I couldn't stand staying at home so Walt suggested I try a golf cart. I'm fine now, I just like riding around in the little thing. I am sorry I panicked this morning. That was close, wasn't it?"

"You lunatic, you almost ran me over." I was laughing in spite of myself. The woman made me laugh. "So, you sly thing, now we have our cards on the table. Tell me, dear Aunt Hannah, who is Allison?"

She looked at the door to see if anyone was coming. I foolishly looked as well. When she leaned forward, so did I. With a mischievous look in her eye, she said, "Well, I never cared for her. Two years ago when Margaret and she were in London..."

With that, the door banged open and we both jumped...interrupted, yet again.

Doc walked through the door. "You better go and sit with her," he told Hannah. "I can't get the waterworks to stop. Do you have any coffee?"

"Is she all right, Walt?" Hannah asked.

"Hell, she'll be fine. It's just a mild sprain. Good idea not to take that boot off," he said. I gave myself a mental slap on the back and smiled inwardly.

"She's a strong, healthy young woman, Hannah. She'll be right as rain by tomorrow. Keep her off the foot. Why don't you give her your cane? You don't need it. It's been two months. You're not Grandma Moses, yet."

Hannah blushed and ignored his last remark. "Oh, the poor child. Walt, what are you looking for? The coffee is on the stove as usual, you nut."

"That's my girl," he said affectionately.

She patted him on the shoulder as she walked by and out the door.

I got an overwhelming feeling of love. I felt at home and at ease. I turned to see the good doctor scowling at me and I took a step back. Well, so much for love and ease.

I felt like I was going to confession when I was a girl. Not knowing what you did wrong but sure you had to say something, anything.

"It was my idea to keep her boot on," I blurted, then winced. Good God, Kate.

He looked down and poured a cup of coffee as he smiled. "Would you like a cup?"

"No, but I'm sure there's a cup of hemlock here somewhere."

Doc laughed. "Don't worry. Maggie told me it was all her fault because she lost control of the horse."

"And was on a horse named Thunder I heard was supposed to be destroyed. What's up with that horse?"

"Nothing special, it trampled Bedford a year ago, and left him lame. The only one who could handle him was Maggie's father. Now, Maggie stubbornly tries to continue where Jonathon left off. Thunder is high-spirited as you can now attest. I guess she doesn't want to part with him," he said. "Hannah bending your ear?"

"No, she has quite a way about her, though. She mentioned Maggie's parents. I am sorry. That's very sad."

Doc hesitated then nodded. "Yes, it is. So Maggie told me you're a photographer...wildlife and such."

Well, I'm not going to get much information out of him. "Yes, and such." I felt like I was on an interview.

"Much money in it?"

"Enough for my lifestyle," I answered, looking right at him.

"Good girl." He drained his coffee cup. "Well, I'm off. If you stick around, make sure Maggie stays off that foot. She could use a friend about now. I know you just met, but perhaps you might keep her company for the day. It might help take her mind off things..."

"And those things would be?" I'm getting the runaround here. First, Hannah ignores my question of Miranda. Now, Doc.

Our eyes met and I could see him gauge his next words. "I think you came around at the right time, young lady. As I said, she could use a friend. She doesn't have many. In any event, I'm sure I'll see you again." He held out his hand and gave me a very hearty handshake as he looked over my shoulder. "Whose dog is that digging in the yard?"

"Oh, God!" I said. "It's mine. Excuse me Doctor, won't you?"

I let go of his hand and ran out the back door. Good grief, how embarrassing. I wanted to kill the little cur.

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