Free The Alpine Traitor by Mary Daheim

sorts of conflicts of interest.”
    I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I suppose it could,” I replied glumly. “Not to mention that I doubt Kelsey and Graham have any warm and fuzzy thoughts about me.”
    “My point,” Ben said, and I heard him yawn. “Call Adam. See what he thinks. With that crazy radio delay, you’ll each have time to consider the other’s words. Do it now. It’s early evening there, isn’t it?”
    “Evening goes on forever in St. Mary’s Igloo this time of year,” I said. “Okay, maybe I will. Or could you ask him?”
    “I’m not his mother. Love and prayers,” Ben said and yawned again.
    “You’re right,” I agreed. “That was cowardly of me. Sorry.”
    Ben didn’t respond. I waited for several seconds before I realized I could hear snoring in the background. My problems might keep me awake, but it seemed they’d put my brother to sleep.
    I hung up but stayed on the sofa, watching through the front window as twilight descended over the mountains. It never quite got dark this time of year where Adam lived. Endless days during summer, endless nights in winter. I wouldn’t like that. But Adam didn’t seem to mind. I marveled at his maturity, which I had thought would never come—and when it did, he decided to be a priest. I still sometimes found that hard to believe. There had never been the slightest thing about my son that led me to consider he might be harboring a vocation. How little, I thought, we knew about the people closest to us.
    After fifteen minutes of rumination, I decided against calling Adam. As much as I wanted to hear his voice, my news was not the sort to deliver over a flawed telephone hookup. I’d e-mail him instead.
    It took me another five minutes to figure out how to explain what had happened. “Dear Adam,” I finally typed, “I had a very strange day. Don’t worry—I’m fine, but around noon I got a phone call from…”
    I brought him up to date on all the information I had except for the bracelet and the enclosed note. I couldn’t explain that to myself, let alone to Ben—or Adam. After mentioning that I’d talked to Ben, I stopped, fingers poised above my laptop’s keys. Should I suggest—even
hint
—that Adam come to Alpine?
    No. That wouldn’t be fair. I didn’t want to be a burden on his conscience.

    It strikes me as strange that Kelsey and Graham want to buy the
Advocate,
and even stranger that Dylan and Kelsey are moving here, where her father died. I would think they’d avoid the place. Yes, dearest Adam, I realize that Tom was your father as well, but you lived here long before your crazy parents reunited. I’m not sure I’ll know how to deal with Kelsey and Graham if, in fact, they do come to Alpine as a result of Dylan’s murder. Will sign off for now and try to sort out my feelings. As I mentioned, it’s been a really odd and upsetting day.

    I frowned at the screen. Of course I realized I’d sown the seeds of my maternal martyrdom in Adam’s mind. But I couldn’t keep this type of secret from my son. Ordination as a priest doesn’t cancel the bond between mother and child.
    I left the laptop turned on, hoping Adam would reply before I went to bed. At ten-thirty, just as I was about to head into the bathroom, his e-mail popped up.

    Mom—Just got in after having supper with a dozen or so of my parishioners. Your news is startling. I understand why you’re upset, but it’s not your problem except for having to put it in the newspaper. Try to distance yourself from the Cavanaughs. It isn’t as if you ever had any real contact with them, even after you and Dad got engaged. Got to figure out what my homily will be for the weekend. I’ll remember Dylan in the Masses. With love, your son who still marvels at the never-ending daylight this time of year.

    I was disappointed. I didn’t know what I’d been hoping for from Adam, but it certainly wasn’t this rather peremptory response. For a few minutes, I sat wondering