To Love and Honor

by Irene Brand

  “Put your jackets in the closet,” Violet instructed. “The food will be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Okay if we turn on the television?” Misty asked.

  “Sure.”

  Roger entered the kitchen, and she turned frightened eyes toward him. He put his arms around her and bent for a kiss, and she darted anxious eyes toward the living room. He had never caressed her in front of his children.

  As his lips hovered over hers, he murmured, “They might as well get used to seeing me kiss you. I intend to do it quite often.”

  She was rigid in his arms, and he said, “Is something wrong?”

  “What if they don’t like the way I cook?”

  He laughed at her. “They’ve eaten my cooking for years, and I haven’t heard many complaints. You’re going to make a great mother—stop fretting about it.”

  Violet looked toward the living room where Jason’s developing frame filled her lounge chair. “I hope so, but it’s intimidating to become a mother to someone who’s only six years younger than I am.”

  “He’s still a kid at heart, believe me. Want me to help you?”

  “The salads are in the fridge. You can put them on the table, and put ice in the glasses. I have pitchers of fruit punch or tea—you can have a choice.”

  But Violet stopped worrying about her culinary abilities when Jason scraped the last of the lasagna out of the baking dish and said, “Dad, you surely do know how to pick ’em. Not only did you choose a beauty, but she’s a great cook, too!”

  “Well, if you want me to give you some pointers on finding a girlfriend, you only have to ask. You haven’t been doing so well on your own,” Roger countered.

  Jason groaned.

  “It was a good meal,” Misty said when they had finished their pie. “Dad is a good meat and potatoes cook, but he won’t try his hand in the bakery department.” She stood up. “Now, it’s my turn to work. The rest of you guys go into the living room—I know how to load a dishwasher.”

  “All right,” Violet said, at Roger’s nod. “The dishwashing liquid is under the sink. Let me know if you need any help.”

  By the time Misty finished, the evening news was over, and Violet turned off the television. She brought a notepad from her desk and curled up on the couch beside Roger since Jason was comfortable in her usual chair. Misty took a cushion from the couch and sat on the floor near them.

  “Roger and I thought that the two of you should be involved in planning the wedding service,” she said.

  “Where do we start?”

  The telephone rang, and Violet laughed. “That figures! I seldom sit down that the phone doesn’t ring.”

  As she started toward the desk to answer, Roger said, “If you think your phone rings a lot, wait until you live in a house with two teenagers. I gave up fighting with them for phone time and installed two phones. They aren’t allowed to receive calls on my phone.”

  “We like it that way, Dad,” Misty assured him.

  When Violet lifted the receiver, Mrs. Grady’s worried tones filled her ear.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Conley, but Janie hasn’t come home yet. At first, I supposed she might be helping one of the teachers, although she usually tells me. But now that it’s so late, I’m worried. Is she at your house?”

  A wave of apprehension swept over Violet. “Why, no—I haven’t seen her since she left my class in early afternoon, although sometimes she does stop in at the close of the day. Just a minute. Misty Gibson is here now, I’ll ask her if she knows anything.” Violet lowered the phone. “Mrs. Grady says that Janie hasn’t come home yet. Do you have any idea where she might be, Misty?”

  Misty shook her head. “She was in last period class, and we left the school building at the same time. She started down the street as she always does—I assumed that she was going home.”

  Roger came to Violet’s side as she relayed the message to Mrs. Grady. Violet held the phone so he could hear Mrs. Grady’s answer.

  “I was gone at the time Janie usually comes home, for I had to pick up the little ones at their school. She apparently entered the house, for her book bag is lying on the table in the hallway.”

  Roger took the phone. “Mrs. Grady, this is Roger Gibson. I’ll be right over to talk with you. In the meantime, check to see if any of her clothing is gone.”

  When he replaced the receiver, Violet said, “I’m going with you.” He nodded his head.

  “Jason, you and Misty can go home in the pickup. We can use Violet’s car.”

  Misty eyes were worried. “Do you suppose she’s run away again?” she whispered.

  “I can’t believe it,” Violet said, “but that’s what most people will think.” Violet felt devastated. And confused. Since Clifford Skeen had started arrangements to assume custody of Janie the girl had been delighted. It just didn’t make sense that she’d run away again.

  Mrs. Grady, a robust, florid-complexioned woman, met them at the door, her eyes tearful, her face strained with concern.

  “As far as I can determine, nothing is gone except the clothes she wore this morning. I know she came into the house because of the book bag, but there’s no other sign that she’s been here. Usually, she has a glass of milk as soon as she comes home, but there’s no empty glass in the sink. I’m really concerned.”

  “Calm yourself, Mrs. Grady,” Roger said, taking her arm and leading her to a chair in the living room, where the two small children were watching television. Without permission, he turned down the volume.

  “Have you contacted any of her friends?”

  “I telephoned a few of the people she’s met at your teen group before I bothered Miss Conley, but none of them has seen her. As you know, she hasn’t made many friends.” Mrs. Grady pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and wiped her eyes. “I can’t believe that the child would run away—she has seemed happy, looking forward so much to living with her father.”

  Violet took Mrs. Grady’s hand. “She has been contented, and excited over the prospects that she might find her father. I don’t believe that she would run away—she hated living on the streets. But I shudder at the alternative. If she didn’t leave voluntarily, has she been kidnapped?”

  “That thought terrifies me,” Mrs. Grady admitted. “I’m always gone for a half hour at the same time each afternoon to bring the children from school. If someone was watching Janie, they would know that she was alone here.”

  “But there’s no sign of a struggle,” Roger said. “She wouldn’t have gone voluntarily if she didn’t know the person.”

  “Yes, but it could have been someone we know,” Mrs. Grady said. “Janie can be so trusting.”

  “Perhaps it will relieve your mind to know that there’s very little chance any serious crime has occurred here in Maitland,” he said. He rose from the couch. “You stay here by the phone, and I’ll go to headquarters and see what I can learn. If we don’t hear anything in a few hours, we’ll put out an APB on her. We should also contact Clifford Skeen. Perhaps Janie decided to go to him.”

  “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Violet asked.

  “No, I’ll be all right. She may try to telephone you if she’s in trouble,” Mrs. Grady said. “You should be near your telephone.”

  Violet drove Roger to the police headquarters, and when he got out of the car, he said, “Don’t worry too much. There may be a perfectly logical explanation.”

  “But I’m devastated—just when it seemed that life was straightening out for Janie, this has to happen.”

  Roger squeezed her hand. “I’ll do everything possible.”

  The night seemed long to Violet, and she couldn’t imagine how long it must have been for Janie, wherever the poor child was. Since Roger hadn’t telephoned, she knew he hadn’t learned anything, and on her way to school, she stopped by Mrs. Grady’s home.

  “I’ve haven’t had any news at all,” Violet said when Janie’s foster mother quickly opened the door. She obviously hadn�
��t slept, and her eyes were red from fatigue and crying.

  “I heard something,” Mrs. Grady said. “My neighbor across the street is an invalid, and she spends a lot of time in her wheelchair by the window. She says she has noticed a strange car driving slowly along the street this week. She always naps in the afternoon, so she wasn’t at the window when Janie came home from school. Do you think that could be important?”

  “At this point, we shouldn’t overlook any possibility. Contact Lieutenant Gibson today and give him the information. Did your neighbor note anything about the car?”

  “Only that it was a red compact of some kind, rather old. But she didn’t see the driver.”

  “That isn’t much to go on, but we don’t have anything else.”

  When Violet drove into the school’s parking lot, Roger was dropping Misty off for classes. He strode toward Violet, and in spite of her worry about Janie, her heart somersaulted at the sight of him. What a man!

  “I stayed at headquarters until midnight,” he said, “but we didn’t have any information then, and I left instructions to telephone about any new developments. I’m on my way to work now. Ask kids at school about Janie, her mood lately, anything she might have said about living with her father. Try to learn anything you can.”

  Violet did her best to check with anyone Janie had talked with the day before, but she didn’t uncover any information that would have caused the girl to run away. Ironically, in Janie’s absence, she received more attention than she did when she was present, and her name was on everyone’s tongue before the day ended.

  Violet’s feet were dragging when she reached home at the end of the day. The light was flashing on her answering machine, and wanting nothing more than to stretch out on the bed, she considered ignoring the message until she had rested. Curiosity overrode her fatigue, and Violet slouched on a chair and punched the button.

  “One message,” the automated machine sounded. “I-57 North. My mother—” The message stopped abruptly. Violet sat upright, fatigue forgotten. She replayed the message. Although the words were muffled, there was no doubt it was Janie’s voice. Excitedly, Violet dialed the police headquarters and was heady with relief when Roger answered.

  She repeated the message, and he said, “What time was the message received?”

  “Twenty minutes after noon.”

  “That’s the interstate between Mount Vernon and Chicago, so no doubt they’re in Chicago by now, but we’ll find them. I was beginning to wonder if Janie’s mother wasn’t involved. I couldn’t imagine anyone else that she would go with willingly.”

  “Why would she wait so long to come for Janie if she wanted her?”

  “She probably didn’t know where Janie was until the social agency started making inquiries on Clifford’s behalf—who incidentally didn’t know anything and is quite concerned. I’ll feed this new information into the system, and we should know something soon.”

  Violet placed a call to Mrs. Grady before she collapsed on her bed. Although still concerned about Janie’s welfare, it could have been worse. At least, she didn’t believe Janie’s mother would intentionally harm her, but association with the woman would disrupt Janie’s life again.

  Violet was still asleep on Friday morning when Roger telephoned at six-thirty.

  “We’ve found her,” he said. “Janie’s mother has a record, and the Chicago police knew where she lived. They watched the area until Pat Skeen and a male companion showed up with Janie, who was taken and placed in the custody of a social agency in Chicago. I’m going after her tomorrow. Do you want to go along?”

  “Of course I’ll come. Janie is probably very upset, and she’ll need a friend.” Violet felt so relieved that Janie had been found, but her heart went out to the poor girl who now had to deal with so many conflicting emotions.

  “This is an official duty, so we’ll go in a police cruiser. I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock.”

  Violet hadn’t considered that she could have any greater regard for Roger, but on the trip to Chicago, her admiration increased. When they arrived in Chicago, he exuded an air of efficiency and confidence that commanded respect when he entered the headquarters of the troopers who had located Janie.

  In a short time, they had received the necessary papers to return Janie to Maitland, and two local state policemen accompanied them to the social facility where the girl had been housed overnight. Apparently Janie hadn’t been told that they were coming after her, for when they entered the room where she was slumped in a chair, looking out the window, she stared in amazement for a minute before she ran toward Violet’s open arms.

  “Miss Conley! How did you find me?”

  “Your call to me was the clue we needed. We’ve come to take you back to Maitland, Janie. What happened? Why did you leave with your mother without a word to any of us?”

  “She came to the door right after I got home Thursday. I invited her in, but she said that she couldn’t stay, and had only recently learned where I was and that she had brought my clothes and other things. I didn’t have many clothes, but I did have a collection of stuffed dogs that I had missed, so I went down to the car with her to get them. There was a man in the car, and he pulled me inside, and they drove away with me.”

  “We’ve all been frantic about you, but that telephone call put us on the right track.”

  “We stopped at a restaurant, and when I went to the restroom, I found a phone. I put in that call for you, but my mother’s companion caught me and hung up before I could tell you much.”

  “That was enough,” Roger said. “We have the papers for your release, and we want to return to Maitland today. Are you ready to go?”

  “I guess so—I have nothing to take, but could I see my mother before we leave? She looks terrible,” Janie added in a worried voice.

  “We can’t take you there unless we receive permission from the agency,” Roger replied.

  When he checked with the woman on duty in the office, she told him, “We’ve been trying to get Janie’s mother to sign papers giving Clifford Skeen full custody, but she’s refused. Perhaps you could persuade her, but I don’t want you to go there alone. I’ll contact one of our male workers who knows where Mrs. Skeen lives, and he will go along, thus making the visit official. And, of course, you must take the two police officers—it isn’t a desirable neighborhood.”

  “We’ll take Janie across the street for lunch while we wait,” Roger said.

  Janie didn’t have much appetite and merely nibbled at the hamburger before her. “I feel sorry for my mother,” she admitted, “but I can’t live with her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing most of the time. If you hadn’t found me, I would have run away again as soon as she passed out to try to find my way back to Maitland.”

  “Then why do you want to see her?” Violet asked.

  “I don’t know—maybe to convince her that I don’t want to live with her. Maybe just to say goodbye,” she added quietly.

  Violet’s heart ached to witness Janie’s distress, but she couldn’t close her mind to the dreadful environment when they entered the neighborhood where Janie’s mother lived. How had the sweet-natured, gentle Janie ever been nurtured under conditions like these?

  The man from the social agency followed in his car, but when the cruiser crawled to a stop in front of an eight-story building, the streets emptied of people although Violet sensed that watchful eyes peered from every window and dark corner. The two local policemen stayed with the cruiser, and Violet appreciated Roger’s vigilance as the social agent came to their side and said, “Mrs. Skeen lives on the third floor. We’ll have to walk. There’s no elevator.”

  “Is this where you lived when you ran away?” Violet asked.

  “No, we were living in Springfield at the time. I don’t know when she came here.”

  “Were your surroundings always as bad as this?”

  Janie smiled slightly. “Sometimes worse, although we did have a nice apartment occasionally. But we
were always on the move.”

  A woman in a dirty, ragged terry cloth robe opened the door to their knock. In a faded, worn manner, the woman resembled Janie, so Violet knew this was Pat Skeen.

  “Decided to bring my daughter back to me, have you? You had no right to take her in the first place.”

  “We’ve been through this before,” the agent said. “You abandoned your daughter, and when we found her wandering on the streets of this city more dead than alive, we had not only the right, but an obligation, to rescue her from the dangers she faced.”

  Pat said nothing. She looked down, then glanced up at Janie. For an instant Violet thought she saw a flash of tenderness in the woman’s cold stare. “Your daughter is being taken back to Maitland and her foster home there, but she wanted to see you before she left.”

  Pat stepped aside, and they entered a sparsely furnished one-room apartment with a small kitchenette and bath.

  “We can’t stay long, Janie,” Roger said. “We have a long drive ahead of us, so tell your mother what you want to, so we can be on our way.”

  “Who are these people, Janie?” Pat asked.

  Janie took Violet’s hand. “This is my teacher, Miss Conley, who has been very good to me. Lieutenant Gibson is a state policeman in our town. He was sent to return me to Maitland.”

  She didn’t release Violet’s hand, and Violet returned the girl’s tight grip. “Mother, please don’t try to take me away again. My foster mother is very good to me, and now that I’ve seen how normal people live, I can’t come back to a place like this.”

  “Can’t say that I blame you, but it’s the best I have to offer. I wouldn’t have come after you this time, but I thought you might have been taken against your will.”

  “No. I was so miserable when the social workers found me, that I was happy to find someone to take me in.”

  “What’s this about your father wanting you?”

  “I told you yesterday. He learned from your sister that I was his daughter and he wants me to live with him.”

  “What kind of wife does he have?”

  “I haven’t seen her—Miss Conley has.”