Chapter 71

Alma Gordon’s toes were kinked and painful. This happened sometimes for no good reason. Even all that stretching with yoga hadn’t helped. Her horoscope that morning read, “Your limitations are limitless.” At the time, she was annoyed at the lazy newspaper, recycling the horoscopes. She’d read this one before. Now she was just plain annoyed. Limitless. Ha. She couldn’t even walk.

She stopped to try to stretch her foot against the ground. She steadied herself with a hand on the side of the building. Ah, that felt better.

Shouts and cries rose from the area near the cliff. Was that Helen’s voice? Yes, it was definitely Helen, and she sounded like she was in trouble.

Oh, dear! Alma raced to the cliff, limping because of her foot. She tried to move faster and thought how ridiculous she must look, her body lurching up and down with each step. But the voices sounded frenzied.

She couldn’t see them on the path along the cliff. Protected from the edge by a waist-high solid fence, the path twisted and turned with the crags in the cliff, sometimes veering away from the sharp drop-off into forest and bush. Fog obscured any view of the ocean and whispered against her cheek. Even with the wind whistling in the trees and the surf crashing right below, the voices grew louder. She was close. The protective fencing came to a dead end, but Mrs. Gordon could see the path continued. If she could only climb over. No easy feat. She was more limber now after her yoga sessions, and she could hoist her leg over. It wasn’t pretty, but eventually she was on the other side. I could never have done that a year ago, she thought.

She saw them as she came around the corner, two ghostly creatures in the fog. Helen held by a man, Helen screaming. Her words were lost in the wind. They stood too close to the edge.

Alma hesitated for a moment. Then she thought of those little babies. In a burst of power which surprised her, she pitched forward and tackled the couple from the side. The three of them flew sideways and landed in a clump of ice plant, safely away from the cliff’s edge.

The man was laid out flat but started to sit.

“Helen, run!” Mrs. Gordon shouted. She was down on all fours, and the man was behind her. She could see him through her legs, rising quickly. Helen sat on the ground, dazed, and the man staggered toward her. Just as they practiced in class, Mrs. Gordon thrust her leg out behind her, a faster version of her favorite yoga movement, balancing table with knee-to-nose flow. She caught him under the chin, sending him back down again.

Mrs. Gordon jumped into a standing warrior position. She felt quite proud of herself. Helen looked stunned. Mrs. Gordon reached out her hand.

“Come on, Helen, we’ve got to get you out of here.”

“What? Why?” Helen asked.

“He wants to kill you,” said Mrs. Gordon.

“No!” said Helen. “Scott isn’t like that.”

“Scott? This is Scott?” Mrs. Gordon peered closer at the man on the ground. She’d only met Scott once, and he didn’t look like she remembered.

The poor man lifted his head. “I’m just going to lie here. I’m not going to do anything. So you don’t have to kick me anymore. But why in the world would I want to kill my wife?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear. I am so sorry,” said Mrs. Gordon. “It was the fog. I thought you were the maintenance man.”

“Helen, Alma, thank God!” Mrs. Gordon turned to see Frances Noonan hurtling toward them through the mist, Sarah behind her, and Mr. Glenn far in the rear, Baby Owen still tucked in his coat.

Sarah ran over and hugged her. She motioned at Scott on the ground. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m starting to wonder that myself,” he said. “I drove down here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” said Helen.

“Yeah, I know, it didn’t come out right,” said Scott.

Mrs. Gordon silently agreed. She was heartened to see Helen scoot closer to him.

Scott sat and turned Helen toward him. “I came to say I’m sorry. I drove all that way in the fog. In case you fell off a cliff or drove off the road, I didn’t want that fight to be your last memory of me.”

Helen reached out and took his hands.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately,” said Scott. “I think I’ve got baby brain.”

Helen leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss.

“Where are the babies?” asked Mrs. Noonan. “Are they here?”

“No, I left them with Andy. He was going to watch the Super Bowl with me, but I called him to come early. I borrowed his car to get here,” said Scott.

“Andy’s with the babies?” said Sarah. “Oh, Lord.”

Mrs. Gordon looked down at Helen and Scott. They were covered in dirt and Scott’s chin was bleeding. “I’m so sorry.” She looked at the others. “I thought he was the maintenance man. I kicked him.”

“Maintenance man? We were wrong. It’s the proprietor. He knows we’re here. We have to leave now,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“Maintenance man? Proprietor? What’s going on?” said Scott.

“We think he wants to kill Helen,” said Mrs. Noonan.

“What? Why?” said Scott.

“We’re not sure,” said Mrs. Noonan. “But there’s a pattern. She fits the pattern. Children, insurance money.”

“And an unhappy marriage,” piped in Mr. Glenn.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Gordon said as Scott shot Albert a hard look.

“Anyway, we need to get you out of here,” said Mrs. Noonan.

Helen and Scott rose, still holding hands.

“Not so fast.” There was a rustling in the bushes. A small man stepped out. A small man with a large revolver in his hand.