He didn’t tell anyone about Lenore.He figured the town knew, but he didn’t care.What happened between them was his business.She was like the money in hispocket, tucked away where no one could see but where he could feel it and know the pleasure of its presence.
She was one of the many secrets he had.Another was that he wished Eugene were his father.Another was that he was grateful he wasn’t, since that would have made him a brother to John St.George, and if there was a single ogre at the mine, it was John.
Word was that John had an office in Boston and hated coming to Timiny Cove, and Cutter believed it.The man was stiff-backed and somber-faced.His concern was with tourmaline as a commodity rather than a gem, and he viewed the men the same way.Whereas Eugene was demanding when something displeased him, John was caustic whether he was displeased or not.He never had a good word for the miners and found fault where neither the foreman nor Eugene did.When he was around, the atmosphere in the mine was more tense than usual.
Likewise, when John was around, Cutter saw less of Eugene than usual.John came north only when Eugene ordered him there, either when Eugene couldn’t be there himself or when his little girl was visiting.But it made things hard for Cutter.John didn’t like him.Whether it was his age, or the fact that he was a reliable worker, or the fact that Eugene liked him, Cutter didn’t know, but John went out of his way to hassle him in front of the others.If ever Cutter’s self-control was tested, it was at those times when he’d have liked nothing more than to haul back and smack John in the face.But Eugene would never have approved of that, so Cutter didn’t risk it.Self-control, too, became a matter of pride.
Cutter was amazed that someone like John could beEugene’s son.On the other hand, Eugene’s little girl, Pamela, was as friendly as her father and ten times cuter.Cutter had been charmed the very first time he’d seen her at the mine.He stopped work, helpless to do anything but watch while she greeted all the men she knew with hugs.When she reached him, Eugene introduced them.There wasn’t any hug, of course, and she suddenly grew quiet, but the shy smile she gave him when Eugene nudged her had stolen his heart.
She was nine then and filled with boundless enthusiasm.Eventually Cutter found himself becoming as protective of her as the other men were.If Eugene was called off while she was at the site, she had her choice of guardians, and in the same subtle way that Eugene gave Cutter attention, she sought him out.She would smile and laugh with the other workers while she made her way to where he was.Then she’d stand with her hands locked behind her, and in a soft, near-whisper ask how he’d been, whether she could see the crystals he’d found, and didn’t he think they were beautiful.Always, before she left, she gave him the shy smile that lingered with him until he saw her again.
She was eleven when she first showed up at his place.It was a Saturday morning, and he was sound asleep when she called his name.“Cutter?”It was soft, almost scared.“Are you in there, Cutter?”
Though he’d held his job at the mine for nearly two years he didn’t socialize with the locals.Guests to his home were as rare as ever.Therefore, it took him a minute before he realized that he hadn’t dreamed the voice.When it came again with the same cautious inquiry, hetumbled out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and peered out the window.Seconds later he pulled open the door.
Pam was sitting high on the bare back of the horse that Cutter had seen grazing in the meadow a short distance from Eugene’s big brick house.She looked so small atop the horse that he couldn’t help but smile.
“What are you doing, Pamela St.George?”
“Visiting.”
“I didn’t know you were in Timiny Cove.”
“We came last night.It’s the Memorial Day weekend.There’s no school on Monday, so John drove Marcy and me up.”
“And you came all the way out here on that horse?”
“It was nice.Besides, he did all the work.”
“Does your daddy know where you are?”
“He’s off with John.Marcy’s at the house, and she knows I’ve gone for a ride.I wanted to see where you live.”
“It’s nothing like your house.”
“I think it’s more exciting, living out in the woods like this.Can I come in?”
“Not on that horse, you can’t.”
“Help me down.”
Dropping the reins, she held out her arms.He swung her down and tied the horse to the birch at the side of the house.By the time he turned, she was running up his front steps.
“Wow,” she breathed, looking through the doorway.Her eyes grew wider.“This is super!”Flashing him a smile, she stepped inside.
That eleven-year-old’s smile made him proud of whathe’d done to the house.The table was clean, sanded and polished, with a stool on either side.The potbelly stove had been freed of its grime, the shelves around it repaired and made sturdy for the dishes stacked there.The walls, once covered with peeling paint, had been stripped and stained.He’d made a small bookshelf, on which rested not only books but a radio, and beneath the old loft that he’d slept in for so long, in the space where his parents’ bed had stood before he’d used it for kindling, was a large four-poster that gave his eighteen-year-old body the room it needed.
“I’ve seen that before,” Pam said, pointing to the bed.“It used to be in our attic.It belonged to Nana and Papa.”
“Your grandparents?”Eugene hadn’t told him that.
She nodded.“They died a long time ago.I never met them.I was wondering where the bed went.I’m glad Daddy gave it to you.”She sent him that shy smile of hers.“This is really nice, Cutter.It’s like a secret hideaway in the woods.If I had this, I’d spend all my time here.How can you stand going to work?”
“If I don’t go to work, your daddy will fire me.What would I do then?”
“Go to work for someone else.But then I wouldn’t see you, so don’t get fired.”She went back outside.“What’s in the woods?”
“Trees.”
