ISBN: 9781623095345
Chapter One
Laura Kingsley stood in the church foyer listening to her fiancé with growing unbelief.
“I’m sorry, Laura, I just can’t get away right now. It’s an awkward time for me with having to take over the reins of the church in a couple of weeks.”
She looked up at the tall, well-built man standing before her. “But Alan, she was the dearest person in the world to me. I hate going up there alone and facing that empty house.”
“You know I’ll be praying for you in this time, darling.” His well-modulated pastoral tone was at odds with how he glanced at his watch from time to time. “God will go with you. It’s just not a convenient time for me to leave.
She pulled away from him. “Since when do loved ones die at a convenient time?”
“Laura, she was an old woman. You can do what you have to do in a few days and probably make it back here by Friday.”
She stared at him, unable to process what she was hearing. Because she had no words, she turned and quickly walked away, something she had never done to him before.
When she reached her apartment, she grabbed a tissue, pulled herself together and dialed a familiar number.
“Mother? I just got a call from an attorney in Big Bear Lake. Aunt Estelle died”
There was a pause. “Estelle’s dead? I didn’t know she was ill, but then we haven’t spoken much in the last few years.”
Laura could hardly speak through her tears. “The attorney says I’ve been named as her executor. I have to go up there and settle the estate. Will you go with me?”
Gloria Kingsley-Dalton-Finch sighed. “First of all, Laura, pull yourself together, I can hardly talk to you if you are going to weep like that.”
Laura sniffed and wiped her nose again as her mother continued, “Darling, you know how I am about business details. They are so boring. I wouldn’t know what to do with Estelle’s run-down place. Just list it with a local realtor. I’m sure you’ll be fine, wrapping up all those tedious matters. Why don’t you take Alan? He’s a minister. Surely he’s dealt with things like this before.”
Laura winced. Right. “He says he’s unable to get away.”
“Really?” Her mother drew the word out, managing to put a great deal of meaning in it.
Laura sighed. “I’ll take care of it. Do you want to know when the memorial service is?”
“Darling, I don’t do funerals. I look terrible in black. Besides, Laura, you know we weren’t exactly on the best of terms. Wouldn’t it be a bit hypocritical for me to show up and act the bereaved sister?”
Laura choked back the retort that came to mind at the moment. It wouldn’t help.
“I’ll let you know anyway. I have to go.” She punched the end button cutting her mother off,, and let the hot tears of anger spill down her cheeks. “So much for my support group,” she muttered at the phone.
Laura gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. Lightning nearly danced in front of her small, white Camry as she wound her way up the mountain. On top of the lightning, the rolls of thunder seemed as though they were going to sweep the car off the road. She hated driving in the rain, it hit her windshield as if flung a giant bucket. Lord, help me get through this. Get me there safely.
When she finally reached the Village of Big Bear Lake, she spotted a deli and grabbing her umbrella, hurried to the door. A cup of hot coffee and a sandwich sounded really good right now.
She found herself third in line behind a young man who was built like a football player, with a trim waist and broad shoulders. He’d tossed the hood of his jacket back to reveal a head of dark, almost black hair. Shifting from one foot to another, he seemed impatient as an elderly man in front of him slowly ordered. He glanced around and she got slight jolt as a pair of cobalt blue eyes flicked over her briefly. His face would have been handsome except for the frown. He turned back to the counter as the elderly customer left.
He finally paid for his order and brushed past Laura on his way out of the deli. The young high school girl at the counter looked after him and shook her head briefly before turning to Laura for her order.
“Someone is having a bad day,” Laura commented.
The girl shrugged. “That’s just Sam. He’s been through some stuff.” She didn’t elaborate.
Laura debated about eating in the deli, but was anxious to get to her aunt’s house and be out of the storm. Juggling the deli sack and the umbrella, she made a dash for her car.
She turned onto a familiar street and into the gravel driveway of her aunt’s house and sat for a moment in the car. The wind continued to blow the rain in small gusts against the windows as she twisted the diamond ring on her left hand.
The pale green clapboard house sat quietly, almost expectantly. The stenciled flowers on the eaves, once vibrant with color, were faded and worn. She’d never come to the house before when there wasn’t a light in the window, the soft glow a promise of the warmth that waited inside. The stenciled white Dutch door remained closed. There would be no welcoming figure in the doorway.
Why hadn’t she come sooner? How long had it been, almost two years perhaps? She promised Aunt Estelle she would visit in the spring, but this was September, and Estelle DuPont was gone.
A gentle tap on the window interrupted her reverie. A vaguely familiar figure with a bushy, gray beard peered at her, the rain dripping from his yellow slicker. She rolled the window down.
“Laura? Don’t know if you remember me. I’m Pete Wilkins from across the street. Saw Matt Devers, your aunt’s attorney, at church. He said you’d be coming.”
She relaxed and stuck her right hand out the window. “Oh, hello, Mr. Wilkins, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”
He gave her hand a warm squeeze. “Yep, it has. I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place for Esty. She’d want things looking nice when you came.”
Esty? Had her aunt’s friends called her that? Laura couldn’t remember. “That was nice of you, Mr. Wilkins.”
“Call me Pete--everyone else in the neighborhood does. Real sorry about Esty passin’ away, she’ll be missed by all of us.”
“Thank you, Pete.”
Seeing the rain was falling only lightly now, Laura quickly got out of the car and opened the trunk. Pete lifted the ice chest out. “Let me help. Just tell me where you want this.”
She ducked under the portico over the front door, pulled a small notepad out of her purse and checked the number for the alarm code.
“You can just put it in on the kitchen table, Pete.”
She glanced around the mud room and then up at the familiar stained glass windows with their woodland scenes on either side of the stone fireplace. They were still intact, after all these years. She opened the wooden door that led into the living room and after removing her wet shoes, stepped gingerly onto the carpet. Everything was the same. The stuffed pheasant and deer head on the wall. The birdhouses her aunt collected sitting on crossbeams. She flipped on the light and the deer antler chandelier gleamed. The cross beams and even the fireplace were stenciled with leaves, a project her aunt had completed a few years before.
She dropped her purse on the big overstuffed cream couch with its plethora of colorful pillows. Yes, everything was the same, almost.
“Sure hate to track on your carpet.” Pete stood in the mud room holding the ice chest in both hands and looking down at the puddle at his feet on the stone floor.
“Oh, Pete, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Just set it there for now and I’ll empty it later.” She shivered suddenly and not only from the cold. Pete stuck his head through the doorway.
“Yep, Ginny’s been here. Said she’d get the place ready for you. You remember, next door?”
“Oh yes. She and Aunt Estelle’s were good friends.”
“She didn’t want you comin’ to a musty house.”
Laura made a mental note to visit Ginny at her first opportunity to thank her.
“I’ll be goin’ now, so you can get settled. I turned the water back on for you and there’s kindlin’ by the fireplace. If you need anything else you just holler, okay?”
She shook his hand again. “Thank you so much, Pete. You’ve made my return a lot easier. Aunt Estelle was fortunate to have such nice neighbors.”
“She was a good neighbor herself. Anytime someone in the neighborhood got sick or needed help, she’d be right there with a pot of soup or a plate of cookies. When we had my grandkids for a week and my wife took sick in the middle of the night and needed to go to the hospital, Esty came right over.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
When Pete left, she remained standing in the living room, listening to the steady ticking of the clock on the mantle. For a moment she wanted to hurry back to her car and run away from the burden that had been given her. The clock echoing in the silence of the house seemed like a rebuke for the time she’d stayed away, busy with school, a new job, and Alan.
“Okay, Laura, you can do this.” She wandered absent-mindedly from room to room. Nothing had changed. On one wall was a wonderful pen and ink drawing of the house, given to her aunt as a birthday gift, years ago. Glancing around, the sameness of the house, each knick knack in its appointed place, gave her a sense of security as a child, but now, only reminders of the gentle person she’d loved so much, the one person who made a difference in the lonely years of her childhood.
She poked her head in the bathroom off the kitchen and ran a hand over the rim of the claw-foot bathtub. How many times had Aunt Estelle prepared a bubble bath for her in that tub?
The guest room was always the warmest room in the house and she began to feel the heat having turned the thermostat up to eighty-five to take the chill off the house. She remembered the weekend when she and her aunt had wall-papered the small room with a tiny rose print. It was Laura’s room whenever she came to visit. One had to pass through the kitchen, step down one step into the pantry, and one step more down into the guest room. Beyond that was the laundry room. The washer and dryer seemed newer than she remembered, but she was glad they appeared in good shape.
Coming back through the living room, she noted the potbelly stove in the alcove. A brass dragon for adding moisture to the room sat on top along with a small hand lettered sign that said, “Do not use stove.” When had the old stove become unusable?
She stopped and glanced into the storage room, where everything from blankets and pillows to light bulbs were in orderly boxes or stacked on a shelf. It didn’t smell musty and she was relieved she might not have to wash everything.
She headed towards the master bedroom with its wooden beams and small paned windows. Lacy curtains hung on the windows and covered shades that were partially pulled down. A glass paned door led to a small porch. The free-standing electric fireplace was still there and Laura hoped it was working. The master bedroom didn’t get the warmth like the rest of the house. Reluctantly she faced her aunt’s bedroom. A lump formed in her throat as she gingerly opened the door and stepped into the room. Everything looked as it had when she’d been there last.
Laura picked up a bottle of lavender cologne on her aunt’s dresser and slowly removed the stopper.
Her hand paused in mid-air as she became aware of sounds on the other side of the house. Had Pete come back for something?
She walked into the living room and listened. It was coming from the family room. She went back to the living room and opened a door by the fireplace, entering a narrow hallway she moved slowly down to another door that opened to the family room. There it was again.
She opened the door to the family room. All was silent. Then the sound came again. She turned slowly towards the window and saw a branch from the pine tree outside slapping against the window, moved by gusts of wind.
She shook her head. All right, Laura, get a grip on yourself. Then there was another sound, a tapping sound--another tree branch? No, it was coming from the front of the house. As she went back through the hall and living room, she realized someone was knocking on the front door.
Chapter Two
Sam Matheson felt the weariness of a long day as he unlocked the door of his house and tossed his truck keys on the hall table. He’d dealt with more problems the storm had caused than new jobs.
He wandered into the kitchen and opened the freezer to see what there was for dinner. His father urged him to stay and eat with them as usual, but it was time to stop imposing on his parents. After working with his father all day in their electrical business, tonight he just wanted to be alone. His mother would sense his mood and he just couldn’t face her tender looks of solicitude.
The valley was quiet, enjoying a short break from the storm and Sam’s spirits lifted a little as he stared out the window over the kitchen sink. He marveled at the magnificence hues of orange, pink and gold that painted the sky. Marcy used to love to watch the sunset. She had an eye for beautiful things. Her touch graced every room and the garden too. The old tightness gripped his chest. I miss you, baby, so much.
“I should have sold this place. It doesn’t help to have a reminder of her everywhere I turn,” he muttered aloud as he walked slowly through the house out to the deck and looked up at the mountains.
He shouldn’t have been impatient with the young girl in the deli today. She was just a kid. And he’d almost run over the woman standing in line behind him. He paused, contemplating. She wasn’t bad-looking, but there was something familiar about her face, a little pinched, and her eyes looked like--like the ones that stared back from his mirror every morning. Eyes full of sadness.
He went back in the house and opened the freezer, pulling out a TV dinner; meatloaf, mashed potatoes and corn. It was as good as anything. He put it in the microwave, turned the timer on and went to take a quick shower.
Savoring the soothing warmth of the water, Sam stared at the walls of the shower. Where was he headed? He filled his days with work but the nights seemed endless. When would it end? When could he think of his wife and not hurt?
He needed to pull himself together. He thought he was doing well, but today had been a bad day. Why was he so out of sorts? Then he knew. His father had mentioned Estelle Dupont’s memorial service. His parents planned to go and his father intimated they were expecting him to go also. He hadn’t set foot in a church since Marcy died. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing he should go for Mrs. DuPont’s sake. It was the right thing to do.
He shut the shower off with a sudden angry twist, and glanced heavenward. “You turned a deaf ear to my prayers. I trusted You, hoped in You—for nothing.”
He put on a clean pair of sweats and pushed his feet into a pair of size 12 moccasins that looked like they’d been around the world. A gift from Marcy their first Christmas together. They’d just moved into their new house and Sam felt as though his heart was bursting with happiness. Things just couldn’t get any better.
Right. Then their world fell apart. Leukemia. The doctor said it was a lethal form with no known cure. Like a thief pouncing unexpectedly, it devastated their lives.
He gripped his chest as the anguish welled up again. For two years they had a perfect marriage but by early spring, her brave struggle was over.
He shook away the shadows and busied himself with lighting a fire. Collecting his dinner from the microwave and a beer from the fridge, he sat down on the sofa, eating slowly and staring into the flames. He knew he needed to let go of Marcy, to find someone to share his life, but the girls he dated all seemed to go the same way. Two dates and they were planning the wedding. He hadn’t met anyone he didn’t compare to Marcy.
He slammed the plastic plate down on the coffee table and covered his face with his hands. The loneliness tore at his heart like a monster, bowing him down.
“What kind of a God are you? She was my life. We grew up together. Why? How can you leave some rotten people in the world and take someone as sweet and fine as Marcy? She loved you and served you all her life. It doesn’t make any sense. If that’s the way you work, I don’t want any part of you. I can do without all those good promises you tantalize us with. They don’t mean a thing!”
Sam chugged the beer down and drank another. The only way he could sleep, to keep the dreams at bay. He stared at the empty can and with a moan, crushed it in his hand.
Sam
He covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear that gentle voice that spoke to his heart. He wanted to nurse his anger and pain. It was all he had.
Sam.
He got up and turned on the sound system. The beat of the music pounded in his head. He switched over to the television and watched the news and finally an old war movie until he fell asleep.
A small gust of wind swept through the open window ruffling the hair on his forehead. He didn’t hear the rain start up again.
Chapter Three
Laura opened the front door to a thin, wiry woman in her late seventies holding an umbrella. Her gray hair, cut in a pageboy, framed a pixie-like face with laugh lines at the corners of her blue eyes.
“Mrs. Morgan, please come in. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I just wanted to see if you were all right and needed anything. And please, call me Ginny, everyone else does.”
Laura smiled at her. “Pete told me you cleaned the house. That was very nice of you.”
Ginny leaned her dripping umbrella against the stone wall of the entry and as they stepped into the living room, glanced around with a satisfied smile. “I didn’t really have a lot to do. You know what a stickler your aunt was for a clean house.” She turned to Laura, “I’ll miss her, but it’s good she went quietly in her sleep. Her heart just gave out.”
“Was she having heart problems?”
“She had a couple of minor strokes over the past year and evidently they weakened her heart.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Laura’s lower lip quivered and Ginny stepped forward and put her arms around her. “Now don’t you go taking all that guilt. You had a life of your own to lead and she knew that.”
“I…I miss her so much.”
Ginny patted her on the shoulder.
Laura stepped back and grabbed a tissue from the box on the stone coffee table. Then, remembering her manners, she turned back to Ginny.
“Won’t you sit down?”
“Thanks honey, but I have to be getting back home. I just came over to invite you to supper with us tonight.” She reached over and patted Laura’s arm. “George and I thought you might not feel like eating alone. We’d love to have you. I’m making some fried chicken.” She eyed Laura expectantly.
Laura remembered Ginny’s fried chicken. “I’d love to join you. Are you sure I won’t be any trouble?”
“Nonsense, child, we’ll be glad for the company. George may even try to talk you into a cribbage game.”
She didn’t feel much like playing any games tonight, but she wouldn’t hurt the Morgan’s feelings for anything after all they’d done for her aunt.
“Aunt Estelle taught me to play that.” A young girl and an old woman laughing in front of the fire, playing cribbage on the coffee table. “Sometimes I thought Aunt Estelle put her best cards in the “crib” on purpose for me.”
Ginny grinned outrageously. “George gave you the benefit of the doubt too until you started beating the pants off him. I know he’ll enjoy a game or two. We’ll see you about 5:30. Is that time all right?”
“That’ll be fine, thank you.”
Ginny waved a hand as she hurried towards the front door and picked up her umbrella.
The mention of food made Laura realize she was hungry. She heated some water for tea to have with the sandwich she’d bought on the way. As she unwrapped the egg salad sandwich she couldn’t help thinking of the man in line ahead of her at the deli.
He’d towered over her. Not in a good mood either. She thought of the girl’s remark “That’s just Sam, he’s had a hard time.” What kind of a hard time? Maybe his girlfriend had broken up with him. She found herself looking down at her ring.
Now, as she waited for the kettle to boil, she glanced up above the stove. The stuffed chickens on the shelf above the stove looked down at her, their bright glass eyes seemed to be watching her with curiosity. She turned and unhooked one of the cupboard doors with framed chicken wire fronts and took out a cup and saucer in the Blue Willow pattern. She’d always liked these dishes.
Maybe I’ll keep those.
She felt more comfortable in the house now. Like her aunt’s arms, the house seemed to wrap itself around her.
After fumbling with the matches and tinder, she built a small fire in the fireplace and settled on the couch with the tray. The rain, rejuvenated after its short reprieve, pelted the window with persistency. Here, alone, she was going to have a lot of time to think and examine her feelings, yet she was not sure she was ready to do that.
Her cell phone rang, but when she flipped the lid there was just static and she noted the number that had called. It was Alan. The mountains probably interfered with reception. She debated calling him back on the house phone but decided she wasn’t ready to do that yet either. Alan McKay could just wait.
After her lunch she wandered through the house, opening cupboards, drawers and closets, peering at the contents. Finally, she went back into her aunt’s room and stood looking at her aunt’s pink bathrobe. She slipped it from the hanger and all at once felt like the young girl who had come here so long ago. She wrapped the robe around her shoulders. The lump returned to her throat and the hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Oh Aunt Estelle, I miss you. You’d understand about Alan. You’d know what to do. I need to talk to someone. I’m so confused right now.” She twisted the ring on her left hand and the solitaire diamond sparkled in the glow of the bedside lamp.
Giving way to her tears and the pain in her heart, Laura curled up on her aunt’s bed and pulled the robe around her. With the steady hypnotizing beat of the rain on the roof, she buried her face in her aunt’s pillow.
Chapter Four
Deke looked up through his goggles and saw the foreman heading towards him. He shut off the torch and waited.
“The boss wants to see you, Brucker, pronto.”
Walking towards the office, Deke was uneasy. There were rumors of layoffs. Was he being fired? He clenched his jaw. So what was new?
When he reached the office, he saw a couple of men talking to his boss. Suits. He knew their type. Cops. Feds. They all had the look. He could spot one a mile away.
Deke knocked on the window and Joe Peavy heaved himself up out of his swivel chair and opened the door.
“These guys want to talk to you. Any trouble I should know about, Brucker?”
One of the suits spoke up. “He’s clean. We just need to ask him some questions about his father. Anywhere we can talk alone?”
Peavy chewed on his cigar, looking from one to the other. “You can use my office, but make it snappy, I’ve got work to do.” He went out closing the door hard behind him.
Deke stood quietly, wary. “Yeah?”
“I’m Detective Billows and this is Detective Norman.” They flashed a couple of badges but Deke ignored them.
Billows studied Deke a moment. “Your father, Ray Dupont, died shortly after he got out of prison. Were you able to talk to him before he died?”
“He’s dead?” Deke shook off the strange emotions that heaved his insides. Dead. He lifted his chin. Nobody was going to see how they got to him. “Look, my old man left when I was about three and I haven’t seen him since. He didn’t bother to get in touch with me.”
The police detective’s face remained bland. “He didn’t write to you?”
Deke glared at him, barely able to hold his anger in check. “Oh yeah, every week, we were just regular pen pals.”
Norman moved forward menacingly. “Just answer the questions, Brucker, we don’t need any smart mouth from you.”
Deke glared at him “I didn’t even know where he was.”
“He was in prison for robbery and attempted murder.”
Deke’s eyes widened. “Attempted murder?”
“His partner shot a bank guard. Fortunately for your father, the guy lived. Your father’s partner died in a shootout. ”
A scene flashed in Deke’s mind, his mother grabbing him and running. Men bursting in the bedroom and pulling them from the room. He pushed the scene away.
“And you’re going somewhere with this?”
Detective Norman broke in. “Your old man stole almost a million dollars.”
A Million? Now he got it. “And you’re looking for the money? The LAPD sends you guys out twenty years later to look for the money?”
“We work for the, ah, insurance company. They’re looking for the money.”
Deke sneered. “Look, if I had close to a million grand, would I be working in this place? You guys are nuts if you think I know where it is.”
Billows took another tack. “Did your mother ever talk to you about your father?”
Deke jammed the anger down. After all these years it was still a pain in his gut.
“She died shortly after they took my old man away. I got dumped into the system”. He swore. “I was a kid. Nobody talked to me about anything.”
Billows narrowed his eyes, studying Deke for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, Brucker, it appears you’re telling the truth. We just needed to check out all the angles. You can go back to work.”
He was giving himself away but he had to know. “You say my old man’s dead. How did he die, heart attack?”
Billows hesitated, his smile complacent.
Deke waited, not sure he wanted to hear. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.
“Somebody beat him to death.”
Deke turned away from them. Get yourself under control, Dekey boy, don’t let them see they got to you. You didn’t cry through all the years in foster homes when they beat up on you, don’t do it now. He put on the mask again. The bland face he could hide behind, and faced the detectives again.
“They were looking for the money.” It wasn’t a question.
Norman glanced at Billows and back to Deke. “That’s what we think.”
“Where is the body?”
“City morgue. You can claim it with I.D.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Deke saw Peavy standing outside the office, scowling.
The detectives opened the office door and Peavy stalked in. “You guys done?”
Billows gave him a cold glance. “We’re done. Thanks for the use of your ffice.”
Peavy watched them walk away and turned to Deke. “What was that all about? You sure you’re not in trouble? I don’t stand for any of that stuff around here.”
Deke ignored Peavy, looking after the cops. “They just wanted some info on my old man. He’s dead. I didn’t have anything to tell them.”
“Well, get back to work then. Time is money.”
You’ve got a real heart, Peavy. “Yeah, time is money.”
Deke walked slowly back to his workplace. So his old man was beaten to death by someone who knew about the money. He hadn’t even been out of prison very long. Somebody was waiting for him. It was a rotten end for anyone.
What did he remember about his father? Old memories pushed themselves into his conscious mind and he ran his hand over his face, willing them away. He didn’t want to go there now, he couldn’t. Yet something in those thoughts triggered an unfamiliar response. He was tough, he’d had to be, but he wasn’t like Peavy. Deke swore. No, he wasn’t like Peavy. He knew where he had to go and what he had to do.
Chapter Five
He was walking towards her on the beach, smiling and reaching out with his arms, she whirled away, her white wedding dress floating in the breeze. When she turned back he was walking away. Alan! She called his name over and over, but he didn’t turn around and he disappeared into the mist.
The loud ringing of the telephone jarred her thoughts. Laura waited for her answering machine to pick up. It took her a moment to realize it was Aunt Estelle’s house in Big Bear Lake.
“Hello? Oh, Alan. I’m sorry, I guess I fell asleep.”
His tone was reproachful. “You were going to call me when you got to your aunt’s house. I got your aunt’s number from your mother.”
“I’m sorry. So much has been going on. Everyone has been so nice. The neighbors have been watching the house for me. How is your father?” She listened to his lengthy account. She liked his father and was truly sorry about the cancer, yet found herself listening to the well-modulated voice of her fiancé with a strange feeling of detachment.
She forced herself to ask, “Will he make the announcement next Sunday?’
“Yes. It would be good if you were here, Laura. He’ll tell them I’ll be stepping up as Senior Pastor, pending the approval of the Board, but I’ve already been assured there is no problem.”
“Alan, I told you I can’t be home by Sunday. I don’t even know when the memorial service is going to be yet. I have to talk to the attorney, the bank, the funeral home--”
There was a small huff of irritation and his voice took on a petulant tone she hadn’t remembered hearing before.
“Laura, her estate can’t be that much. Can’t the attorney take care of those details? I’m sure you mean well, darling, but is a memorial service necessary?”
She stared at the phone, struggling to keep the edge out of her voice when she responded.
“Alan, it may be a small town, but my aunt had a lot of friends and neighbors who would like to pay their respects. She wanted a service and I’m going to see that she gets one.”
He was immediately conciliatory. “I’m sorry, darling, I was out of line. I meant no disrespect for your aunt. Of course, you do what you need to do. I was just hoping you could be here for the announcement. It’s a big step for me, and I just wanted you by my side, that’s all.”
She relented at the genuine concern in his voice. He was probably distraught with his father’s illness and the prospect of taking over the large church. He couldn’t have meant what he said.
“I’ll do my best, Alan. This is all new to me and I want to make sure everything is done properly.”
“Of course, darling, you do what you need to do.”
“When will the Board vote on your appointment?”
“They meet this Thursday night.”
She frowned as the implications crowded her mind. “So when do you take over? Two months?”
“Actually, right away, it’s pretty cut and dried.”
“That’s wonderful. Alan, I’ll settle the estate as quickly as I can, but I may be gone the full two weeks. Jack told me I could have another week if I needed it.”
“Well get back as soon as possible. You should give Jack your notice when you return. I’m going to need you here. With my new salary, your job won’t be necessary and you’ll have your hands full with the women’s society. You realize you’re missing the missionary conference and the spring tea. Mrs.Eggert will be in a tizzy.”
She heard the slight irritation creep back into his voice. Alan liked plans to go just as he made them.
“I’m sorry Alan,” why did she have to keep saying that? “Mrs.Eggert is president of the women’s society. She’s quite capable of making sure the tea goes well. It can’t be helped. Oh, I told Rose Daley that we will have to re-schedule the shower she was going to give us.”
“I’ll work out what I can. Get me the date as soon as possible.”
“Alan, will you come up for the memorial service?”
“Darling, it’s a three hour drive up there.”
This time she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Yes, I know, I just drove here.”
He murmured something about seeing what he could do, but left it hanging. He thought it probably wasn’t possible. He murmured a few words of regret, then with a brief endearment, begged off for an important meeting. She sat holding the receiver in her hand then slammed it down in the cradle and lay back against the pillows, gazing up through the skylight at a tall pine tree. Her job at the college and Alan seemed so far away. At the present moment, she found she didn’t mind.
She sat up slowly, reached for the box of tissues and blew her nose. Maybe it was just the emotions over her aunt’s death. She studied the ring, thinking of the day Alan presented it to her. They had been dating over a year and she knew he wanted to be married. He would need a wife when he took the helm of his father’s huge church.
For a moment she was tempted to pull off the ring but reason prevailed and she pulled the robe from around her and got up. She had less than half an hour before putting in an appearance at the Morgan’s house for dinner.
Facing the bathroom mirror she stared at the wan face looking back at her. Her eyes, the pupils so green people accused her of wearing contacts, were puffy from the tears. She needed little make-up, being blessed with fair skin and naturally wavy auburn hair. She splashed cold water on her face and put eye drops in her eyes. A dash of powder and lipstick and a quick brushing of her hair made a difference. She pulled on her raincoat as the rain began to come down in torrents. Her pity party was in full swing. Great, I get to arrive at the Morgan’s house looking like a drowned rat.
Her dark moods, like the sudden rainstorms, wore themselves out in short order. She chided herself for her attitude and breathed a prayer of thankfulness for the Morgan’s kindness. She locked the front door, opened her umbrella, and made a dash for the Morgan’s front porch.
A tall man, about six feet four with thinning gray hair and a warm smile, opened the door and literally swept her inside.
“Let me take that wet umbrella and coat and hang them up.”
“Thank you. Mr. Morgan.”
“Please, call me George, I haven’t been called Mr. Morgan since I taught high school, makes me feel old.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink.
She laughed in spite of herself. How comforting to be around the nice people that were part of Aunt Estelle’s life.
He led her into the living room which appeared the same as Laura remembered it years ago. Colorful burgundy, blue and green knitted throws graced the back of the deep green velour sofas, accented by plump burgundy pillows. They still had the antique maple rocking chair she’d curled up in to read while her aunt and Ginny chatted over tea. The white shades on the end table lamps had yellowed to cream over the years. The warm wood of a maple coffee table gleamed in the light, accented with a bowl of white silk magnolias. Listening to the fire snapping and crackling in the fireplace, she felt very much at home.
Ginny hurried out from the kitchen. “Laura dear, let me get you something to sip while you’re waiting.” She set down a tray and mugs. The hot spiced cider smelled wonderful.
George settled in his easy chair. “Now if you have any questions or anything you need help with, just let me know.”
“Well, actually, I was wondering, didn’t Aunt Estelle drive any more?”
Ginny perched on the wide arm of the couch next to Laura and shook her head.
“No, dear, after her last stroke, they wouldn’t renew her driver’s license. She took it well but you know how independent she was. I took her to the store and her doctor’s appointments.”
“You were kind to do that. Is her old Chrysler still in the garage?”
George broke in. “It’s still out there and a beauty too. Original upholstery and paint job, a real classic.”
Laura shook her head in wonder. There were few people she knew, if any, that still had the car they’d bought thirty years before. She turned to Ginny, “You and Aunt Estelle have lived next to each other a long time, haven’t you?”
Ginny considered the ceiling for a moment. “I’d say around thirty years. We both moved up here when our children were young. Esty’s boy was around five and my two boys were six and eight. They were the Three Musketeers, did everything together.”
Laura’s eyebrows went up as she stared at the older woman, “Aunt Estelle had a son?”
Husband and wife exchanged looks and Ginny put a hand on Laura’s shoulder.
“Oh my dear, Tommy died, years ago. He was around eight years old when a car struck him as he walked home from school. It was raining, rather like today and the driver didn’t see him. He lived for three days in intensive care and the whole town prayed for him. Esty stayed at the hospital night and day but his injuries were too massive. The doctor said he wouldn’t have been the same little boy had he lived.”
“What about my uncle? My mother told me he left one day and never came home.”
“Tommy’s death hit him hard. Ray DuPont was never a strong man and the light just went out of him. You see, he forgot to pick Tommy up from school that day. Got busy with work and didn’t pay attention to the time. Esty needed Ray’s comfort, but his grief consumed him. He had no comfort to give.”
George shook his head. “Nearly drank himself to death that year. Esty tried to reach him. She had the Lord’s strength but Ray didn’t want any part of God. One day he just left. Esty never heard from him again.”
Ginny shook her head. “That’s not exactly true, George. Before he was arrested there were signs that he had been in the house.’
Laura’s eyes widened. “Arrested? What for?”
George looked reproachfully at his wife. “I believe you’ve stepped in it, old girl.”
“Oh dear, you didn’t know, did you?”
Laura shook her head.
George squared his shoulders. “Might as well tell her the rest.” He gazed kindly at Laura. “Your uncle robbed a bank. We don’t know why, we just read about the robbery in the paper. His partner was killed in a shootout with the police but your uncle went to prison for armed robbery and attempted murder.”
Laura gulped. “Uncle Ray tried to kill someone?”