by Diane Noble
The doorbell rang just before nine. It was Renee and Kisses. Early. They were dressed in matching pink sweaters, and Kisses had a satin ribbon taped to his head, between his oversized ears. He promptly ran to the slider, yapping and jumping and growling at some blowing maple leaves outside.
Renee handed Kate a pink satin tote with Kisses’ photo silk-screened on one side. “I’ve had to return to his special diet. He was getting awfully gassy. You probably remember how to fix his—”
“Hamburger sautéed with some vegetables and bone meal. I remember.” Kate took the bag. She pictured working Kisses’ feedings into her schedule with a baby in one arm and a toddler running every which way.
“And he likes it best warm. Otherwise, he’s persnickety.” With another of her kissy-kissy sounds directed at the Chihuahua, Renee headed back to the car as Caroline beeped the horn impatiently.
Kate had just deposited the gourmet dog-food fixings in the fridge when the doorbell rang again. It was Lorna, carrying multiple diaper bags, a little suitcase that contained changes of clothes for everyone, and Baby John to boot. Before Kate could step aside, the towheaded twins spotted Kisses in the living room and jumped behind each of Kate’s legs.
The little Chihuahua barked and yipped and ran in circles, then the boys, quickly gaining their courage, barked and yipped back. Lorna handed the baby to Kate and went back to the car for Lucy and a Portacrib. A minute later she returned with a sleepy-looking toddler, who blinked at Kate and then started to cry.
Kate grabbed the crib so Lorna could set Lucy down on the living room floor. Finally Lorna gave Kate instructions for fixing the baby’s formula, which was less complicated than the recipe Renee had given her for Kisses’ gourmet fare.
“Wow,” Lorna said a moment later, “look at the size of this room. The kids are going to have a ball in here.”
They already were. Kisses trotted along the top of the piano, baring his teeth and growling while Matthew and Mark banged out a tune.
“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this, Kate.” Tears filled her eyes. She stooped down to hug her children, then headed for the door, and the children raced back into the living room.
“I am woman,” Kate whispered to herself, then prayed for another heaping dose of grace.
Invincible. Strong. Hear me roar.
The trouble was, the twins were pretending they were horses, snorting, pawing the floor, and galloping in place; Lucy was squealing and thunking the piano; and Kisses was barking and racing in circles.
How could a woman roar if she couldn’t hear herself think?
With Baby John asleep on her shoulder, she was about to herd the crew into the kitchen to make homemade play dough when the doorbell rang again.
It was Lorna, looking sheepish. She held out a pacifier. “Lucy’s binky,” she explained. “She won’t go to sleep without it.”
As Lorna turned to leave, Kate could see she’d been crying. The twins were racing down the hallway, Lucy was chattering to the Chihuahua, and Baby John sighed against Kate’s shoulder.
Lorna blinked back fresh tears as she looked longingly at the baby and reached over to touch his fuzzy head.
“They’ll be fine,” Kate said. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just relax and have a good day.”
“That’s what Carmella tells me.”
“Carmella?”
“My neighbor. She’s taking me shopping and out to lunch today. And she’s going to teach me how to knit. That’s why we’re going shopping...for yarn and knitting needles. She’s part of a group that makes prayer shawls for people going through tough times. I thought maybe if I could create something beautiful for someone else, I wouldn’t think so much about my own troubles.”
She gave Kate a soft smile. “It was the angel candleholder that made me think of it. When someone does something nice for you, well, you don’t feel quite so alone. Especially when you know the person who made it was thinking about you and praying for you.”
Kate squeezed the younger woman’s hand. “That’s it exactly,” she said, thinking again about Paul’s sermon. Yours are the hands with which he will bless others...It was especially meaningful because the last thing Lorna had to give to others was time. Yet here she was, so willing to try.
“Well, I’d better be on my way.” Lorna turned to go, then looked back at Kate. “You know, Carmella told me what wonderful people you are...”
“I don’t believe I know Carmella...”
“Carmella King. She lives right across the street from me. Little mobile home set back a ways from the road. Her son is Caleb.”
“Yes, of course. Faith Briar’s new guitarist,” Kate confirmed.
“He’s the sweetest boy you’d ever want to have around. Would do anything in the world for anybody. Takes after his mom that way.”
“I noticed their lights when I pulled out of your driveway.”
Lorna smiled. “It’s from his childhood. After his father deserted them, Caleb became terribly afraid of the dark. His mom said she always left the lights on for him, so he would know someone was waiting for him and loved him.”
Lorna paused, then said, “He’s had a rough life in many ways, growing up without a dad...” As she said the words, a sad expression crossed her face. “Caleb’s gotten himself into some scrapes with the law. But everyone who knows him is pulling for him. He’s a good kid at heart.”
She paused, her hand resting on the brass handle of the door. “Money is tight, and I know Caleb does what he can to help out.” She reached for a tissue. “That’s why what she’s doing—the lunch treat—means so much.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Kate said, “what was Caleb’s run-in with the law all about?”
“He was arrested because he was in the car with someone who did the actual crime. He was later found to be innocent. But it was breaking and entering.”
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Kate was astonished when she picked up the clock on her bedside table and squinted at the numbers: 9:24. Sunlight streamed through her bedroom window, and dappled patterns of leaves danced along the lacy swags on either side.
She yawned and stretched and pushed her aching bones from the bed. She was tying her bathrobe around her waist when Paul came around the corner. “Sleeping beauty awakes at last...”
“I must have been pretty tired.”
He grinned. “You think?”
“Okay, okay. So I was utterly exhausted.”
“And then some,” he added gently. “I’ve got fresh coffee waiting when you’re ready.”
“I can’t wait.”
A few minutes later, Kate was curled up on the sofa, sipping Paul’s special cold-brewed coffee—ground coffee soaked in tap water overnight, then strained and heated in the microwave the following morning. She sighed deeply as she savored the smooth flavor.
“You didn’t have to go in early today?”
Paul shook his head and sat down across from her. “My first appointment isn’t until right before lunch. Stephen Easterwood, for some counseling.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to rush off. Yesterday was a busy day for us both.”
“But a good day.”
“A really good day,” she agreed, remembering. “I was so glad to hear from Renee that the doctor thinks time will heal what ails Caroline—either that or getting back her grandfather’s things.”
She took another sip of her coffee. “Speaking of Caroline, did you see how she jumped right into the chaos, saw what needed to be done, and did it? She literally took Baby John out of my arms and rocked him to sleep. I’d tried all afternoon to get the little guy to stop fussing, and it took her all of three minutes.”
“No, I missed that,” Paul said. “But I loved how the teens took over helping with the other three children in the kitchen. By the time I got home with the chili fixin’s, Denver was rolling out cookie dough with Matthew, Ashley was making things out of play dough with Lucy, and Caleb was showing Mark how
to mix the ingredients together for cornbread.”
Kate took a sip of coffee. “I wish our parishioners could have seen these teens in action last night. Maybe they’d change their minds about the music.”
Paul’s face tightened. “I’m not holding my breath. Some of our people are mighty set in their ways.”
“They love their traditional hymns.”
“And they’ll remain a huge part of our music program. I love them too. But what I can’t see is why they won’t give the young people a chance. Let them play their music.”
Kate reached for his hand. “Next week’s meeting will be difficult, won’t it?”
He nodded. “All-church meetings can be forums for anyone with a gripe, large or small. I want to give the folks plenty of opportunity to voice their opinions, but I won’t let it turn into a free-for-all.”
“We’ll pray that it won’t.” She smiled and squeezed his fingers. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Katie, what if the church splits over this? There’s already talk.”
Their eyes held for a moment, then Kate said, “I think we need to trust that God will hold Faith Briar together. He has us all in his hands, not just one faction or the other.”
He sighed, nodding slowly. “Amen,” he said softly.
He walked over to the sliding-glass door, opened it, and gazed out at the backyard. “If only they could see the blessings they’re missing.”
“If only they could see in those teens what we saw yesterday.” Kate smiled at the memory, trying to put aside her suspicions of Caleb.
Paul came back over and sat down, looking refreshed by the cool breeze. “Do you realize it took three adults and three teens to take care of those four little people?”
“Something Lorna Easterwood does by herself, day in and day out. All alone, at least right now.”
He looked thoughtful. “That’s what I plan to tell Stephen. And what he’s missing by not being with them.”
AFTER PAUL LEFT for his counseling meeting, Kate showered and dressed and headed for her studio to work on the next two angel votives for Loretta Sweet and Caroline Johnston. As she carefully cut the pieces of glass, her thoughts returned to the library break-in. The previous day had been too chaotic to think about much except caring for Matthew, Mark, Lucy, and John.
But now that she was rested and refreshed, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Especially troubling was what Livvy faced with the Chattanooga museum and its insurance carrier. Equally troubling was the possible loss of funding for the new children’s section of the library.
As Kate worked, she reviewed what she knew about the library break-in. There were no visible signs of entry. That meant someone either had a key—stolen—or it had been an inside job. Or someone had opened the door for the intruder after Livvy locked up. Could someone have hidden inside and waited until she had driven away to either do the heist himself or let a partner in?
She laid down the glass cutters and stared at the shards of glass for a few minutes.
That could have happened, she supposed, but knowing how careful Livvy was with anything entrusted to her, she was sure her friend would have done another sweep of the library just to make sure it was empty.
There were tools that people used for breaking and entering. A bag of little gadgets cat burglars carried in their coat pockets. She’d never seen such a kit in person, but in the movies it appeared a break-in could be performed incredibly fast without a scratch.
Then she remembered what Lorna had told her about Caleb King’s run-in with the law and thought about the transaction she’d seen at Willy’s Bait and Tackle, as well as LuAnne’s report about Willy and Caleb working on something at the diner.
Were these events connected, and if so, how?
Then images from yesterday’s chaotic but joyful afternoon with Flame and the Easterwood children came back to her. Caleb seemed to have an unusual willingness to help others as he patiently helped Mark measure the cornmeal and crack open eggs all by himself, and later when he sat Matthew, Mark, and Lucy down and sang with them. She had never heard anyone sing “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” with so much expression.
But appearances could be deceiving. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to believe Caleb was involved in the library theft.
She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t count him out either.
That strange nagging feeling that she was missing something important came back.
She picked up the glass cutter again, reached for a piece of blue glass, and began to think about Caroline’s loss, the theft of her grandfather’s effects.
Her thoughts turned back to the questions she had been pondering since the break-in...and the answers she didn’t want to face:
Why J. P. Beauregard’s things and no one else’s? The answer was now clear. She’d found it on the Internet when she added up the value of the stolen items and reached the sum of a half-million dollars.
She now knew his dress uniform was thought to be one of the finest examples of a Confederate officer’s uniform in any of the Civil War museums in the South. His writing desk once belonged to General Lee, which made its value skyrocket. And the original photograph of Beauregard on his magnificent horse, so prized by the family, had been reproduced and hung in homes throughout the South—almost as often as the quintessential portrait of Robert E. Lee himself. Beauregard was the epitome of the Southern gentleman officer and was famous enough to add even greater value to his collection.
With a sigh, Kate realized there was one theory she needed to reconsider.
What if something had been hidden inside the writing desk? An important document perhaps? Or a map? Perhaps there was more behind this theft than just the monetary value of the artifacts. Perhaps, instead, the person responsible wanted something that was often more valuable than money: information. The thought took root, and she made a mental note to ask Renee and Caroline if the family had ever checked the desk for hidden drawers or false walls.
Pleased with her new lead, she bent over her work again and lost herself in the beauty of the design that was coming to life before her eyes.
Moments later the phone rang, jarring Kate from her reverie.
“Mrs. Hanlon...Kate? This is Clementine.”
“Clementine, hello.”
“I found something strange while I was digging by the back door. I think you need to get over here right away.”
Chapter Sixteen
Clementine’s voice rose with excitement. “I don’t want to alarm you, but you should have a look. It’s probably nothing...but then again, it just might have something to do with the break-ins.”
“I’ll be right over,” Kate said. “Give me ten minutes.”
Clementine was waiting at the front door when Kate pulled up in the Honda. She quickly exited the car and trotted up the walkway to the front steps.
Kate instantly noticed a transformation in Clementine; it was astonishing. Her face had taken on an almost peaceful look, her shoulders were no longer slumped, and she walked with a new spring in her step as she led Kate to the big table in the kitchen.
“It’s probably nothing,” Clementine repeated, rummaging through a scattered pile of gardening books. She shrugged, then said, “Aha! I knew I put it here someplace.”
Then the older woman turned toward Kate, waving a knitting needle in her hand. “It was caught in some tall grass by the back door. I wouldn’t have noticed it except it was in the spot where I wanted to plant some tulip bulbs.” She handed the long, slender aluminum needle to Kate.
“You found only one?”
Clementine nodded.
“Could you have lost it and forgotten?”
“I never learned to knit. I crochet.”
“Do you have any friends or neighbors who’ve stopped by recently to visit and maybe brought along their knitting?”
Clementine shook her head. “Enid comes over once in a while, but she’s a quilter. So it’s probably nothing, right?”
“If there were two
, I might think so,” Kate mused. “But just one? That’s a different story altogether. Let’s go outside and have a look at the door.”
The first thing Kate noticed was that Clementine stepped outside with her, so eager to show her progress with planting the bulbs that she seemed to forget she was outdoors.
The second thing she noticed was the transformation in the yard. The newly turned soil looked rich and smelled earthy and fragrant.
“Come spring,” Clementine said, standing beside her, “can you imagine what this yard will look like? I’m about halfway through the bags of bulbs my secret angel left for me.”
“Your secret angel?”
“That’s what I call him...or her.”
Kate gave Clementine a gentle smile. “That’s a perfect name,” Kate turned back to the door, fiddled with the lock and the knitting needle. It didn’t fit. Didn’t even come close.
“Well, I thought it might be a clue,” Clementine said, sounding disappointed. “I’m sorry I called you all the way over here for nothing.”
“I’m glad you did,” Kate assured her. “And it wasn’t for nothing. I wanted to stop by for a visit anyway—to see your progress and to see how you’re feeling.”
She was rewarded with a big smile. “I guess it really doesn’t matter who my angel is,” Clementine said. “Maybe all that matters is that someone cared enough to give me a reason to wake up every morning.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Kate said.
When Kate was back in her car, she held the knitting needle up to the light, rubbed her thumb against its tip, turned it, put on her reading glasses, and examined it again.
It was smooth except for some scratches and minute dents at the very end.
Very strange for a knitting needle that usually didn’t rub against anything sharper than a strand of eight-ply yarn.
Chapter Seventeen
That night it was Paul’s turn to fix dinner. By the time Kate arrived home, he’d stirred together the ingredients for a Tex-Mex version of Sloppy Joes. She walked into the kitchen, welcomed by the scents of sautéing onions, garlic, and ground beef.
