Aunt Dot wrinkled her forehead. "But...how would he know that Callie had ended up with his stuff?"
"That's what I was wondering." Rick leaned back in his chair and laced his hands over his stomach. "Who all knows about this?"
"Well, besides all of you...I guess Rob. And Todd Whitney." I stopped. "Oh, and the sheriff, of course."
"And there was nothing of real value that you could see in the box?" Rick asked.
"Someone had left it next to a dumpster, Callie. I don't think—" Karen paused. "What if one of the books is super valuable?"
"Yeah, you know. Like how you see something on the Antiques Roadshow that looks like a piece of trash and it's worth fifty million dollars or something." Mona caught her glass with her elbow.
I grabbed it right before Houston was baptized with Dr. Pepper.
“Thanks, Callie.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think any of those books are worth much, at least to my untrained eye.”
"Did any of them have names in them?" Harry asked. "Maybe some ol' boy wanted them back ’cause they belonged to his granddaddy or somethin’."
"One or two had a name in them," I said. "Something like Olsen or Owen, maybe?"
"Callie." Aunt Dot's whisper was strangled.
"What, Auntie?"
"Was one of those books an old copy of Pilgrim’s Progress? An antique?"
"Yes. That’s the one I put up as a display in my shop window the other day.” But Aunt Dot wouldn’t have seen the display.
“How would you know there was a Pilgrim’s Progress book in there?” I asked.
"When you said Owen, I thought of Owen Thompson. He gave me a copy when—" She stopped and glanced at Harry. “He gave it to me when your Uncle Garth passed.”
It couldn't be the same book, could it? And who was Owen Thompson?
"But why would one of your books be in a box of junk at Willowbough? Did you take it with you when you moved there? Or donate it somewhere before you moved?"
Aunt Dot looked relieved. "No, I saved all of my books for you. Maybe it was one that looked like it."
That must be it. "Well, I'll bring it next time I visit you, and you can look at it to make sure."
"Didn't Owen Thompson pass away recently?" Lonnie asked. "I thought I heard something about that."
"Yes," Houston and Harry chorused.
"I did his funeral." Houston sipped his iced tea. "It was, what, a few months ago?"
"Two months," Harry said. His strong voice shook. "He was a good friend."
We were all quiet for a moment as Harry excused himself and headed for the restroom.
"Harry and Owen practically grew up together, Callie." Aunt Dot followed Harry with her eyes. "We were all good friends from way back, but those two were almost like brothers."
"Well, what I want to know is if Karen found this box of stuff by a dumpster, then why was there a message to Callie in it? I mean, who else would understand some kind of Latin thingy?" Mona's abrupt change of subject startled me for a minute.
“That’s a very good question.” Ack. Karen had provided a couple of answers, but now the new questions were multiplying faster than the squirrels in my yard. If the person who drew the festina lente sign and addressed it to me hadn’t sent me the box of stuff, then what did that mean? And how did that person get the note into the box?
Mona was shaking her head. "I think—"
"Who’s the birthday girl?" someone behind me shouted.
I jumped.
Mona pointed at me. "Thirty-six!" she added, loud enough for the entire world to hear.
A waiter who looked like he was all of fifteen materialized at my elbow, joined by three waitresses who clearly would rather be anywhere else than singing the birthday song once again. I groaned.
After the spoon-shaking and loud clapping routine ended, my friends sang a hearty rendition of “Happy Birthday,” while the waiter set a humongous piece of chocolate hot fudge cake in front of me. "Thank you, everyone," I said. "Who wants to share?"
“I can’t believe you guys planned a surprise party for me.” I juggled my purse and my box of leftovers as I slid into Mona’s tiny car.
She slanted me a glance as she started the car. “Everybody needs a surprise party sometime in their life. Rob’s not going to believe it when I tell—”
“I know. Do you know how much sleep I’ve lost over that dumb box of stuff?”
“And then it turned out to be nothing.” She slowed at an intersection as the light turned yellow. “Hey, isn’t that your neighbor’s granddaughter? What’s her name? Jessica? Hailey?”
“Nicole.” I studied the disheveled young woman waiting at the bus stop. She leaned against an enormous rolling suitcase, her black shirt straining over her pregnant belly. She sure looked like Sherm’s granddaughter—but not like I’d ever seen her. Her hair hung over her eyes, and ugly blotches marred her complexion.
“She’s looking a little rough.” Mona glanced at me. “You know her mama died a few years back.”
“I don’t know her at all,” I confessed. “I’ve been so busy since I moved here getting the store up and running and all.”
Nice excuse, Callie.
It’s time now, Daughter.
I know, Lord. But—
“Well, looks like she’s not sticking around long anyway.” Mona glanced in her rearview mirror. “So. What’s up with you and Todd?”
Once the Holy Spirit started on me, there was no escaping. We’d talk about it again. Lots.
I sighed. “There is nothing ‘up’ with Todd and me.”
“Right.” Mona snorted.
She pulled into my driveway and left the car running, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head to peer at me.
I stared out the windshield at Sherm’s rundown yard, somehow not in the mood to banter with Mona like I usually did.
She waited a long minute, then let me off the hook. “Todd is a good man.”
I had never heard my friend so serious.
“I barely know him.” Like I barely knew my own neighbor. Had I been so self-absorbed these past few months…years…nursing my own wounds that I hadn’t even noticed the people around me?
“Todd needs someone like you in his life.”
Someone like me? What was that supposed to mean?
“I’m not sure I’m ready for another relationship.”
“It’s been five years. You have so much love to give.”
What had happened to my happy-go-lucky Mona? It was almost like she was begging me. I blew out my breath. “Just pray for me, okay? When I think about my relationship with Kev—”
“That’s in the past. You don’t live there anymore.” Mona grasped my hand and held on until I turned to meet her gaze. “Come on, honey. God’s opening new doors for you, but you’ve got to walk through them. I’ve watched you bury yourself in your store, in the church, in everything except relationships.”
That was my pattern. I had always held a wall of reserve around myself, even before all the junk of the last five years. And now, though some of that had crumbled in the wake of life’s hardships, it was still there. Even in my relationship with my parents. I could never unbend fully enough to embrace them as they were. And I didn’t know why.
“I don’t know how,” I whispered.
She drew me into a hug. “Yes, you do. Be willing to let other people in, okay?”
I nodded against her shoulder. It had been a long time since I had rested in someone else’s embrace, even that of a girlfriend. “I’ll try.”
“You do know my boss has a crush on you.” She pulled away to grin at me.
Ack.
“I was afraid of that.” I pushed my glasses up on my nose. “When he brought me the stuffed pug the other day—”
“He actually bought you a stuffed animal? Houston?”
“Yep. He brought it to the house after you left. On the Fourth of July.” I grimaced. “It was fairly awkward.”
“Oh, Lord. Th
at poor man.” Mona laughed. “He can be so clueless.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him, but—”
“Girlfriend, you don’t have to tell me about it. I work with him every day.”
We grinned at each other. Houston was handsome, no doubt about it. But he was also plain goofy. In a serious kind of way. It was hard to explain.
I shook my head. “At least I’ve dodged Aunt Dot so far. She’s still after me to meet the tech guy at Willowbough.”
Mona made a face. “I’d stick with Todd.”
Me, too. I could still see us laughing together, throwing the ball for Annie in his front yard—
“Did she ever email you?”
“Who?”
“Aunt Dot.”
“Yep. She told me all about Pastor Brian and the youth group from SCC Church coming and singing for their annual Patriotic Praise and Pasta celebration. She loved it.”
“Loved what? The pasta? I wonder what her secret is?” Mona’s phone dinged and she glanced at it. “Oh, my gosh! It’s getting late and I told Lonnie I’d pick her cat up on the way home. They’re going down to the coast for a few days, you know? I gotta run.”
I leaned down into the car, balancing my container of leftovers on top of my purse. “Thank you, friend.”
“Festina a la rapido to el Todd-o.” She blew me a kiss. “Not lente.”
I rolled my eyes, but I had to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Eight
I picked up the newspaper from the driveway and let myself into the house amidst the pugs’ joyous yipping and snuffling. I had been so busy the last few days that I hadn’t paid as much attention to them as usual. Neither had I read the paper, I thought as I added it to the growing pile. And the next few days would be every bit as busy.
Jenna’s wedding was quickly approaching, and I still had mounds of moss to glue and candlesticks to adorn. And the human-trafficking seminar at church was tomorrow night, too. I couldn’t miss that. I had found the issue more and more on my mind lately, especially since the Star was printing a special series of articles on the topic. I knew nothing about it, except what we had learned from the presentation at church a couple of months ago.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had started to pray about it, thinking that God was nudging me to get involved somehow. But it seemed so out of my league. And I was no longer in a position to be around teenagers as much as I had been when I worked at the middle school. I couldn’t sit in front of the local school and watch for students who might be involved. But neither could I sit by and—
I jumped when my phone vibrated against my leg. I didn’t usually carry it in my pocket. My heart leapt at the number on the screen. It was my brother, Jason, calling from the penitentiary.
“Hello?”
I went through the usual rigmarole of pushing buttons, entering my debit card number and generally signing my life away before I heard his voice on the other end of the line.
“Callie?”
“Hi! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you?”
I grimaced at my own words. I should know by now not to ask that question.
“I’m good, Sis. Really good.”
What? Really?
“That’s awesome,” I said cautiously. “You sound good. What’s going on?”
“I—” His voice caught on a sob. “I’ve come back to Jesus, Callie.”
I sank down onto the kitchen chair. “Thank God! Thank you, Jesus! Oh, Jace. I wish I could be there to give you a hug.”
“Me, too.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you for not giving up on me.”
The tears spilled over onto my cheeks. Tears of joy this time. After so many years. “Tell me about it! What happened?”
“I finally surrendered, Callie. I guess I got tired of fighting so hard against the Holy Spirit.”
“I’m so glad.” Glad didn’t describe it, but I couldn’t seem to get much more out right now.
“The Hound of Heaven finally caught me,” he said. “I knew you and Mom and Dad were praying for me. And Aunt Dot. I would lie in my bunk at night and remember everything I had learned growing up. Sometimes I would feel like I was going crazy because I couldn’t stop thinking of all of the times I heard the gospel being preached. All of the times we did family devotions.”
I was bawling by now. Those were the very things I had prayed for my brother over the years. I had prayed that when he was alone at night, that God would remind Jason of His love for Him. That He would bring scriptures back to his remembrance—even the little Bible songs and stories we had learned together in Sunday school. And now God had answered our prayers.
“And when Aunt Dot sent me the ‘Hound of Heaven’ poem, that about finished me off,” he said.
I knew that poem by Francis Thompson. It had long been one of my favorites, and I had often pictured Jace being “caught” by Him who knew my brother best and loved him the most.
Jason cleared his throat. “Listen to this part. I can barely read it without crying, because this was what I did for so many years!
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
We were weeping together now.
“He finally caught me. I’m free.”
“Yes, you are. I can hear it in your voice. Thank God!”
“It doesn’t matter so much now if I have to spend more years in here. My soul is free. I’ve been reading my Bible lots and going to the church services.”
Wait. This was my brother I was talking to, right? “I can’t believe it. We’ve prayed for you for so long.”
An automated voice broke in. “This phone call will end in one minute.”
Only one minute to relive a lifetime of pain and now joy. My throat closed.
“I love you, Sis. Will you please send like a Bible study or something? I can’t believe I’ve wasted so much of my life. It’s like I finally…like I finally get it, ya know?”
“Yes.” It was all I could get out.
“And tell Aunt Dot, okay? I wanted to write to her, but I don’t have any more stamps or envelopes left. Tell her I love her and that I—”
I laid the phone down and slipped to my knees on my kitchen floor. God had saved my brother. He had rescued him and redeemed him and given him peace in his heart. I was in awe.
“Auntie!” I burst into Aunt Dot’s room. “I just got off the phone with Jason!”
Her hand went to her throat. “Is he okay? What’s wrong?”
I wanted to grab her up out of her bed and dance around with her. Instead, I sat in front of her and took both of her hands in mine. I felt my face crumple before I could even get a word out. She and I had shared so many heartbreaking moments and now—
“Is it bad, darlin’?”
I shook my head, but couldn’t speak for a long moment. “No, no, it’s good, Auntie.” I took a deep breath. “Jace surrendered his life to Jesus.”
She stared at me as if trying to grasp what I had said, and then her eyes filled. “Oh, Callie. Thank God! Oh, thank God. I was praying it would be soon.”
I pulled her to me, and we hugged as if we’d never let go.
“God answers prayer, darlin’,” she whispered against my hair. “Don’t you ever forget that. He is a good God.”
“I know, Auntie.” I did know. He had brought me through so much, and He wasn’t done yet.
“What did Jason say? How did it happen?”
“We only had a few minutes to talk, but he basically said he was tired of fighting. He also said to tell you he loves you and he wanted to write to you but he
’s all out of stamps. I’ll put some money on his account later so he can get more.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Her eyes were shining.
“And he said to tell you that the ‘Hound of Heaven’ poem got to him. Pushed him over the edge, I guess.”
She nodded. “I knew He would never let go of our boy, Callie. I prayed I would still be alive to see it.”
“What are you talking about, Auntie? You’re healthy as ever.”
Wasn’t she? A twinge of apprehension winged its way into my mind.
“No one is guaranteed tomorrow, honey.”
“I know, but—”
She shrugged. “My life is in His hands. And I’m going to use every day He gives me. How about you? Any answers from Mr. Big-pants sheriff?”
I didn’t want to think about him right now. “Do you think I should call Mom and Dad?”
“You mean you didn’t yet?”
“No, I ran right over here to tell you. Plus, they have like an eight-hour time difference, remember? It’s the middle of the night over there.”
“I forgot about that.” She twisted her wedding ring around her finger. “Well, maybe you can email them. Email is a pretty handy thing, you know.”
I stifled a grin. “Yes, it definitely is. I’m sure I’ll connect with them as soon as—”
“Hello there, Dot. I didn’t know you had a visitor.”
Aunt Dot and I turned towards the door.
“Brandon! Come in. This is my granddaughter Callie who I’ve been telling you about.” Aunt Dot beamed at the man as he strode into the room.
Uh oh. I was in for it now.
“Callie! Brandon Delacourte.” He strode over to me and stuck out his hand.
I took it, allowing him to hold onto mine for a tad longer than necessary. Wow. Aunt Dot hadn’t been kidding about the handsome part. I’d never seen such gorgeous brown eyes. He looked slightly familiar, but—
“I hear you’re teaching Aunt Dot how to ‘do technology.’” I grinned up at him. Way up.
He laughed. “She hardly needs me anymore. Your aunt is a technology whiz. Have you read her latest—”
Make Haste Slowly Page 10
