Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay

Author:Thomas Holladay [Holladay, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Holladay
Published: 2021-03-25T22:00:00+00:00

TWO HOURS LATER, HAVING put Jason to bed, Carolyn sat behind the big antique desk of her dead husband’s father, feeling out of place. She hadn’t yet mentally claimed this office or the master bedroom as her own. She sometimes felt his presence, especially here behind his desk. Not that she believed in ghosts. She didn’t. But, there was something about these two rooms. Tonight that presence felt stronger, like an angry person looking over her shoulder. It intimidated her and made it hard for her to concentrate on her work, a post Christmas, back to school article about a boy, his dog and their snowman.

Some wild animal killing helpless baby cows on her property didn’t help either. At least she’d taken care of that problem, for now. She'd go in and talk to the sheriff about it, put her foot down and put an end to it.

The feeling of some angry person standing over her in these rooms was different. How could she deal with something like that?

The phone rang and it startled her, that old, loud ring you only hear in old movies. Who could be calling this time of night, Thanksgiving night? Maybe it was Mom. It rang so seldom she might never get used to the loud bell. She picked it up on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Your Christmas article was fun.” Tom Kirby’s voice seemed welcome for once. If nothing else, he sounded rational.

She pushed back in the comfortable leather chair and listened, surprised at being happy to hear his voice.

He sounded more excited than usual. “I can’t wait to get up there and have that guy . . . what’s his name?” He must be scrolling down, scanning the article. “. . . John Crow? I can’t wait to get on a horse and have that guy teach me how to ride. We opened the magazine with your article on page three, right past the content page. That picture of your kid on that great big horse was perfect.”

“You mean Jason?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I always do that, don’t I?”

“It’s still nice to hear. It’s the first time, you know.”

“First time?”

“You’ve never opened with one of my articles before. It feels good.”

“Well, get back down here and we’ll do a lot more of that. Your writing has improved every week, which reminds me . . . Say, listen, I want you to rework that book you submitted back when Father first hired you. I want you down here so we can work on it together.”

The offer sounded inviting. “Oh, I don’t know. Jason likes the school up here very much. He’s already made some new friends and the school is really very traditional, not like what’s happening in the California education system.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It feels like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn up here. You know what I mean.”

“You mean they don’t follow the state curriculum? How can they get away with that?”

“They operate on a trust fund from John’s family estate. They don’t take any state funds at all.

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