Free The Double Cross by Clare O'Donohue Page B

easy. Lots of old vines, a few half-dead raccoons, even some old traps. You want to steer clear of that stuff, don’t you boy?” He patted Barney’s head and Barney wagged back. “Besides, a lot of folks up here aren’t keen on people or dogs tramping on their land. You need to be careful.”
    “I don’t think George or Rita will care,” I pointed out.
    “They own everything up till the woods start. The owner of this land is a grumpy old guy with an antisocial streak.” He smiled widely while he watched me guess.
    “You?”
    “Too obvious a description.” He laughed.
    “Exactly the opposite. You’re the nicest guy in the class.” It took me a second to realize what I’d said. “Well, Frank isn’t exactly competition. But you’re not grumpy or antisocial.”
    “Just old,” he teased.
    I laughed. “I don’t want to get in trouble for trespassing.”
    “I’m just giving you a hard time. People trample through here once in a while, but very few stop to sketch it.”
    “It’s quite pretty here,” I said.
    He nodded. “This has been my dream my whole life. I wanted a nice piece of land close to where I could hunt and fish. It took everything I had to get this place. I love it.”
    “I can see why.”
    “Just be careful. Don’t want to see your dog get himself in a mess.”
    “I guess I should get him back before my grandmother misses him too much.”
    “She’s a nice lady, your grandmother. You’re all nice women,” he said. “Especially that Bernadette. She seems like a nice, old-fashioned lady.” Then he turned and walked farther into the woods.
    I stood watching him. Old-fashioned wasn’t exactly the description I would use for Bernie, but maybe something good would come of this trip after all. There was a little bounce in my step as Barney and I headed back toward the house, until a flash of light and a crash of thunder turned my nice stroll into an all-out run for safety.

    Barney and I were soaking wet by the time we got back to the Patchwork, and I knew that Rita would flip out if there was a wet dog tramping through her premises, so I left him in the entryway and headed to the kitchen, in search of paper towels.
    As I opened the kitchen door, I caught sight of a familiar figure. I took a step in to say hi, then realized that if I did I would be interrupting something, so I stepped back and listened. Walking away would have been the polite thing to do, but I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. My friend was making a big mistake, and I wanted to be nearby to stop it if I could.
    On the other side of the door, Bernie and George were talking in muffled tones, broken up by long silences. I knew what those silences were. She had clearly reconnected with her high school love.
    “Looking for something?” Rita was coming up behind me.
    “Paper towels,” I said loudly. “Barney got wet. I figured I could get something to dry him before I took him upstairs.”
    “I have some old towels in the basement,” Rita said. She turned into a dark hall and disappeared down some stairs.
    I coughed and headed into the kitchen, hoping I’d given them enough warning. I had. Almost. Bernie and George were standing several feet apart, but they both had a flushed, embarrassed look that would have been unmistakable to Rita had she seen it.
    “Is it still lunchtime?” I asked. “Can I get something? I just got back from doing some sketches in the woods.” I knew I was explaining way too much, but it gave me time to watch their faces for signs of guilt.
    George’s voice was calm. “It’s a buffet. Sandwiches and soup,” he said. “I think everything you’ll need is out there.”
    “I could use some company. Bernie, you want to sit with me?”
    Bernie nodded and walked out of the kitchen ahead of me. I stayed behind and almost said something to George. I just didn’t know what to say. It was none of my business, but if you see someone walking into traffic, you call out to stop them. And from