Secret Sisters

by Tristi Pinkston

“And the Dunns don’t eat meat,” Ida Mae pointed out. “I bet whoever was in that Jaguar dropped this.”

  Ren slid the wrapper into his pocket, heedless of any ketchup that might be on it. Ida Mae opened her mouth to warn him about possible stains, but then clamped it again. He was a grownup and did his own laundry. He could handle it.

  When they met with the rest of the presidency the next morning, they all agreed they now had some evidence.

  “Someone was in that shed, and I bet they weren’t there just to eat a hamburger,” Ida Mae said.

  “How do we know it was a hamburger? Wendy’s also makes a fine chicken sandwich,” Arlette pointed out.

  “That has nothing to do with it, Arlette! Someone drove onto the Dunns’ property, went into the shed, and probably had a clandestine meeting with Nick. He wasn’t in the house until after the Jaguar left. We heard him come in not long after the car drove away. I bet he was meeting the driver.”

  “Did you get the license plate?” Arlette asked.

  “I couldn’t. It was too muddy.”

  “The mud was wet?” Hannah leaned forward.

  “Yes. A big chunk plopped off as the car drove past us.”

  “The roads were completely dry yesterday,” Hannah pointed out. “I went and did some errands and noticed that I even kicked up a little dust.”

  Ida Mae looked at Ren. “Did you see any mud back by the shed?”

  “Not a speck.”

  “And was the rest of the car dirty?” Hannah asked.

  “No. It was shiny.”

  “But what does that mean?” Tansy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ida Mae confessed. “Hannah, what does it mean?”

  She leaned forward, her eyes alight. “Someone purposely found some mud and smeared it on the license plates.”

  “So no one could track them,” Ida Mae added. “Genius.”

  “Well, not so genius if the rest of the car was clean,” Hannah said. “It’s pretty obvious they were just trying to hide the plates.”

  “Obvious to everyone but me,” Ida Mae said, wondering how she could have missed something so simple. Hannah hadn’t even been there, but she’d figured it out. “It’s time to go the sheriff again.”

  *

  Ricky Shelton didn’t even hide his disdain. “Ida Mae, you really need to find something better to do with your time. Doesn’t the Relief Society keep you busy enough?”

  “Oh, I’m very busy,” she assured him. “We have a funeral tomorrow and some new move-ins arriving next week. Plus—”

  “I didn’t ask for a play-by-play of your daily activities,” he said, pressing his eyelids with his fingertips. Ida Mae noticed how tired he looked. Probably up all night playing those video games his wife hated. “Listen, I appreciate the fact that the roads are dry and there isn’t any mud. But did it occur to you that the car could have picked up the mud wherever they got the sandwich wrapper? And for that matter, maybe that wrapper was Nick’s. It’s not natural for a man to live without meat. I bet he eats burgers on the sly all the time and just doesn’t tell Mary to keep the peace.”

  “You don’t present marriage in a very positive light, do you, Ricky?” Ida Mae wagged her finger at him. “Playing video games, eating on the sly—just what do you think it means to be married?”

  Ricky sat back, a pink hue creeping up his face. “Ida Mae, we’re talking about your so-called evidence here. We’re not analyzing my marriage, all right? Now, listen. Maybe the guy in the Jag drove back there, ate his sandwich, and drove back out. Maybe he brought a sandwich for Nick and they had themselves a nice little picnic in the shed. Maybe he smeared mud on the plates so Mary wouldn’t know who to blame for the secret hamburger. I don’t know, and I don’t care. It is not illegal to eat meat, okay? Now, listen. Go take care of your funeral. Knit some leper bandages or whatever it is you do.”

  “Crochet,” Ida Mae interjected.

  “Knit, crochet, I don’t care. Just let me get back to work and stop bothering me with hamburger wrappers.”

  “Arlette said it could have been a chicken sandwich,” she added.

  Ricky took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I don’t care what kind of sandwich it was. There is no evidence of any wrongdoing, and you need to let me get back to work. We’ve got a vandal at the elementary school, and I have work to do.”

  Ida Mae walked out of the office, irate and indignant. What was the world coming to when you couldn’t count on law enforcement to keep you safe? Dismissing the wrapper, not understanding the significance of the mud—it was clearer to her than ever that they were on their own. She might have doubted the wisdom of this project to begin with, but not anymore.

  Chapter Eight

  The older I get, the crankier I am,” Rose Hunter said, reaching for another cookie off the fresh plate Ida Mae had brought in. “I’m getting to where I can hardly stand myself.”

  “I think we all go through that from time to time,” Ida Mae said, knowing exactly what Rose meant. She didn’t know what she would have done if Ren hadn’t moved back in—he kept her from spending too much time alone with herself. He also kept involving her in illegal covert activity, but she’d overlook that for the sake of the good company he provided. He also got free movie rentals at work. There were definitely advantages.

  “I just hate to think what I’m putting Heidi through,” Rose said. “I think Reed’s hair is getting thinner, too.”

  “I’m sure we can get it all worked out. I’ll go talk to Heidi and see how things are over there.”

  “Well, when they release me tomorrow, I don’t think she’ll be excited to have me back,” Rose said, taking another cookie. “What kind is this, anyway? I’ve eaten four now.”

  “That’s a sour cream coconut chocolate chip. My mother’s recipe.”

  “Well, if my mother cooked like this, I think my father would have eaten out a little less,” Rose said. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”

  “You certainly could use it. I bet a sneeze would blow you over.”

  “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” Rose wiped her mouth with a tissue. “If you would go talk to Heidi, I’d appreciate it. I’ve tried, but she still acts skittish around me.”

  “Consider it done.” Ida Mae had two more plates of cookies out in the car, and she knew she’d find a place for them to go. Tansy and Arlette had a full two dozen keeping them company out at the Dunns’ that afternoon. Good thing the recipe made so many.

  An hour later, she strode briskly up the walk to the Hunters’ door, noting the peeling paint on the eaves. Heaven knew Reed was a busy man, but if he wanted to keep his property value up—she bit the inside of her lip. She’d try again. My, how nice the evergreen bushes on either side of the door look. They’re so . . . green. She winced at her sad attempt to be positive, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

  Heidi opened the door, her eyes going wide at the sight of the plate in Ida Mae’s hands. “Come in, Sister Babbitt. You didn’t have to bring me anything, although I won’t turn them down.”

  Ida Mae relinquished the plate and stepped into the spacious foyer. “I’ve just come from the hospital,” she said, shucking off her coat. “Rose’s terribly worried right now.”

  “What about?” Heidi grabbed Ida Mae’s coat with her free hand, not—Ida Mae noticed—loosening her grip on that plate.

  “She feels she’s a burden to you. She knows she’s added to your plate.” Ida Mae winced at her unconscious choice of words, but Heidi didn’t seem to notice.

  “To be honest, Sister Babbitt, I’m not the caregiving type. I fall apart if any of the kids get sick. Reed gets a hangnail and I’m in tears. I don’t know how to nurture. And now, with Mother Hunter needing a little extra care, I’m so stressed just thinking about it, I don’t know what to do.”

  “You can start by sitting down and having a cookie,” Ida Mae said, motioning toward the couch. Heidi sat down, her very carriage indicating the stress she was under. Her mo
uth full of cookie, a tear rolled down her cheek, and Ida Mae pulled a new package of pocket-sized Kleenex out of her purse.

  “I’m sorry to be such a bawl baby,” Heidi said with a loud sniff. Ida Mae offered the Kleenex a little more pointedly, and Heidi finally took the hint and accepted a tissue. “But it’s this whole Mormon woman thing. Aren’t we all supposed to be the perfect housekeepers, the perfect nurturers, the ones who hold it all together? It’s all I can do to keep the dishes done, and anything else on top of that is just too much for me to handle.”

  Ida Mae sat back and pondered for a moment. “You know what, Heidi, I don’t think any woman on earth measures up to this ‘perfect Mormon woman’ image we’ve all got in our heads. I don’t even know what started that nasty rumor in the first place. I don’t think we’re supposed to be perfect about everything all the time—I just think we’re supposed to be the very best we can be.

  “Take DeeDee Wheeler, for instance. She has a lovely singing voice and has been working to cultivate it. It’s not a perfect voice, but she’s making the most of it and using it to bless those around her. At the same time, she’s not as good a cook as Iris Standing, but she’s learning new recipes and asking the other sisters for advice. There’s no such thing as perfection. We’re just working with what we’ve been given and forging on every day. The main thing is that we don’t give up.”

  “I feel like that’s what I’ve done,” Heidi said. “The twins run me ragged every day, and . . . you don’t know this yet, because we’ve just been told ourselves, but it turns out that Tommy is deaf.”

  “Oh, no!” Ida Mae looked down at the floor where the two-year-old played with cars. She noticed, for the first time, that he wasn’t making the typical car-crash noises little boys like to make. He was silent. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  Heidi reached for two more cookies and handed one to Tommy. “It’s been a blow. I’m still in shock, and Reed has totally withdrawn from the situation. We’re going to talk to specialists to see if there’s anything we can do, and we’ll be taking sign language classes and teaching him to lip-read.” She took a huge bite and barely chewed before swallowing. “I know a hearing-impaired person can live a wonderful, rich life and achieve everything they want to, but I’m worried about his safety. I don’t want him to wander out in the road and not hear an approaching car.”

  Ida Mae reached out and patted her hand. “I don’t even know what to say. This will certainly be a challenge.”

  “Am I selfish to feel like I can’t deal with Reed’s mother right now? We’re the only ones with a house big enough to accommodate her. I don’t work out of the home, so it seems like I’m the perfect candidate. But I’m drowning, Sister Babbitt. I’m absolutely drowning.”

  To accentuate her statement, the tears started to flow again. Ida Mae sat quietly while Heidi had her cry-out, her mind working furiously.

  Service was a wonderful thing. Christlike compassion for others was one of the greatest attributes she could name. But was it right for Heidi to feel so burdened because of it? Was it right for Rose to feel like an inconvenience? Were everyone’s needs being met by this situation? She just didn’t think they were.

  “Does Rose know about Tommy?” she asked.

  Heidi shook her head. “We only got the final diagnosis this morning. I was planning to go tell her this afternoon.”

  The news would surely devastate Rose and make her feel more like an intruder. That just wasn’t fair—she deserved to live joyfully.

  “Let me think some things over, Heidi,” she said, knocking an idea around in her brain. “You told me a while back that she said she’d go live in a care center?”

  Heidi sat up straight. “That’s what she said, but I won’t hear of it. It just seems wrong to send her out to pasture when we’re right here and can take care of her.”

  Ida Mae held up a hand. “I wasn’t saying you should send her off. I was asking if she had the means to live somewhere.”

  “Yes, she does. She has a good monthly income.”

  “That’s what I needed to know,” Ida Mae said. Heidi visibly relaxed, although her back was still rigid.

  “Now, I have another surprise for you, in addition to the cookies.” Ida Mae reached into her purse and pulled out a jar of bath salts. “These are the best for soaking out stiff muscles. I want you to go upstairs, run a bath, and soak for a good hour. I’m going to stay down here and play with Tommy.”

  Heidi blinked. “Oh, I don’t know, Sister Babbitt. That seems like such an imposition.”

  “I’m suggesting it. How can it be an imposition?”

  Heidi looked down at Tommy, then back at Ida Mae. “Okay. You’re on.”

  She disappeared, and Ida Mae heard the bath water start up. She nodded. That ought to help, at least a little.

  She looked down at Tommy, at the golden ringlets that covered his head. He was a beautiful child—he looked like he should be on the front of an old-fashioned Valentine card. She painfully lowered herself onto her knees so she could look at his cars. He glanced up at her, gave her a sweet smile, and handed her a blue truck.

  They played cars together for the better part of an hour. When Heidi reentered the room, her hair still damp, she looked like a whole new woman.

  “I haven’t just relaxed in—I don’t know how long,” she said, sinking into a chair. “Thank you for giving me this time to myself, Sister Babbitt.”

  “You needed it, and we had a wonderful time, didn’t we, Tommy?” She touched the child’s head, and he leaned over to give her a hug. “You know, with his temperament, I think he’ll accept his lot in life with a good attitude. I can see him really tackling this challenge and conquering it.”

  “I think you’re right,” Heidi said. “He doesn’t seem to have an angry temper. Maybe he’ll be able to deal with his frustrations better than I would.”

  “And because he’s so young, he may not have that frustration,” Ida Mae continued. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had, and maybe it won’t be as difficult as you’re thinking it might.”

  “I’ll try to stay positive,” Heidi said. “You’ve been a lifesaver today, Sister Babbitt. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome. Now, I wonder if you’d do something for me. Will you give me a hand off this floor?”

  Heidi bent down and tucked a hand under Ida Mae’s elbow. After regaining her footing and grunting just a bit more than was really flattering, Ida Mae picked up her purse. “I’m going to give your situation some thought, Heidi, but I’m sure we’ll be able to find a way. This life is about finding joy even while being tested. Let’s find you some joy.”

  “Thank you, Sister Babbitt. I really appreciate that.”

  I wonder, Ida Mae thought as she walked to her car. I wonder if there’s a way to make it work . . .

  Chapter Nine

  This week has been duller than dishwater,” Arlette proclaimed, jabbing her knitting needle into her ball of puce yarn. Honestly, why the woman couldn’t choose better colors, Ida Mae simply didn’t know. She pulled her brain back before heading too far down that road and concentrated on the meeting at hand. “Nothing has been happening out at the Dunns’. Not one thing. Unless you count the fact that the baby took his first steps.”

  Everyone in the room oooh’d and ahhh’d at that until Ida Mae brought the meeting back to order.

  “On other fronts, the bishop’s blood pressure is down another two points and his wife is feeling somewhat better, although the doctor doesn’t want her up and around. He wants her flat down until the birth.”

  “Remind me when she’s due?” Tansy asked.

  “In two months,” Hannah said, checking her notes. “But they think she may come early, what with it being triplets and all.”

  “Her sister is still there and is planning to stay until after the birth, but they do need someone to sit with the children while she gets the grocery shopping done and whatnot.”

  “Someone should go over and
let the sister have a break,” Tansy said. “I saw her at church on Sunday, and the poor thing looked tired to death.”

  “What’s her name?” Arlette asked. “We can’t just keep calling her ‘the sister.’”

  “Her name is Janet,” Ida Mae said. “She’s single and lives in Idaho. Her coming at this time is a blessing.”

  “Do we have a volunteer list?” Arlette asked, and Hannah pulled one out of her folder.

  “Looks like we’re covered for help and dinner until Thursday,” Ida Mae said. “I’ll go over Thursday and take dinner and send Janet out for the evening. The bishop has interviews at the church that night, so they’ll need a sitter.”

  “That’s good of you, Ida Mae,” Tansy said. “Let’s see—I’ll go sit with them on Saturday afternoon.”

  They worked out a schedule for the Sylvesters, then turned the conversation back to the Dunns. “Ren’s at work, but he told me to put him down for evenings this week,” Ida Mae said. “He’s mostly working mornings and afternoons these days.”

  “Thankfully,” Arlette added. “I hate sitting out there in the dark.”

  “Do you really think we’ll find anything out?” Tansy asked. “We’ve been waiting for such a long time now.”

  “It hasn’t been that long,” Ida Mae reminded her. “It only seems that way because we’re anxious.”

  The phone rang, and Ida Mae rose to get it.

  “Sister Babbitt? This is Hannah’s husband. Is she still there?” Ned’s usually calm voice was contorted. “I need to talk to her.”

  “I’ll get her for you.”

  Ida Mae took the phone into the living room and handed it to her secretary, who listened for a moment and turned a shade of green.

  “I have to go,” she said, hanging up. “Joey was just hit by a car.”

  *

  Tansy sat on one side of Hannah with Ida Mae on the other. Arlette had gone down to the cafeteria to scare up some juice, and Ned paced the waiting room while he talked.

  “I was going to the store,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I put the children in their car seats and got them all buckled in. We went into the store—we were fine. Everything was just fine.” His voice broke, and he stopped pacing to stand by the window. “When we got back out to the car, the cart hit a slippery patch and started to roll. I grabbed it, but Joey must have thought we were still walking and he went on ahead. I called out to him, but just then a car started to back out and didn’t see him.”