“I don’t know, honey. That’s a sensitive situation.” He rolled out of bed and staggered half-asleep to the bathroom.
Julian rarely got upset with her, but the combination of his silence and sullen expression from that moment through checkout at the hotel and the drive to the airport spoke for itself—he was irritated. She waited until they were buckled into their first-class seats, the only ones available for their return trip home, to speak.
“I’m sorry, Julian, for dragging you down here on this wild-goose chase and for keeping you awake all night, tossing and turning. I don’t blame you for being annoyed with me.”
He thumbed her cheek. “I’m not annoyed, Ellie. I’m worried about you. I don’t need to remind you that your pregnancy is high risk. All this stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted this baby so much. If something happened to it because of anything she’d done, she’d never forgive herself. “You’re right. We’ve waited long enough for Lia to sort out her life. We need to schedule an appointment with Tyler to discuss how to proceed with the adoption.”
“I’ll get in touch with him first thing in the morning.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I promise everything’s going to work out the way it’s meant to.”
Ellie wished she felt as optimistic as Julian. A gnawing doubt in her gut warned her that things would get a lot worse before they got better.
#
Ellie felt the urge to paint. Her fingers longed to hold the brush, but her canvas remained blank when she stood in front of it in her studio later that afternoon. When Julian took the kids and the dogs to the park across the street, she gave up on getting any work done and went with him. While the girls chased the dogs, Julian and Ellie stretched out on a blanket and discussed plans for the twins’ birthday party.
“Dad looked tired when he left,” Ellie said, rolling over flat on her back.
Julian snickered. “I think the girls wore him out.”
“I’m sure they did, but he’ll never admit it.”
“Why didn’t you break the news about the baby?”
Ellie picked a twig off the blanket and broke it in half. “I’m too tired today. I want to enjoy the moment. I thought we’d tell him when he comes for dinner on Wednesday night. We can celebrate the baby while we christen the kitchen.”
“Oh boy!” Julian clapped his hands. “We’ll make it a party. What should I cook? Mexican? Italian? Thai?” His eyes got big. “I know. What about a turkey dinner with all the traditional Thanksgiving fixings?”
She mussed his wiry hair. With all his new appliances and gadgets, he was as giddy with delight as a boy in a sporting goods store. “Whatever you decide is fine with me—as long as it’s not pizza.”
#
Ellie was grateful when Monday morning arrived. The structure of the work week made her feel more like herself. After a brisk forty-five-minute walk along the seawall and through the neighboring streets, she returned home to find the girls eating Pop-Tarts at the small table in her studio with Maddie.
Maddie hauled herself out of her chair when she saw Ellie watching them from the doorway. “How’d your trip go, Miss Ellie? Did you have any luck finding your”—she cast a glance at the twins—“your friend?”
“Unfortunately, no. Have you seen Julian this morning?”
“Yes’m. He’s poking around in the kitchen with the workmen. You ready for your coffee?” Without waiting for Ellie to answer, Maddie went to the Keurig machine she’d set up on a card table in the corner of the room and brewed a cup for Ellie. “I’m so excited about that fancy new kitchen, I can hardly stand it. Mr. Julian says it’s gonna be ready on Wednesday. I’m cooking you something special for dinner that night.”
Ellie laughed. “I’m sorry, Maddie, but Julian’s got first dibs on dinner Wednesday night.”
“Then I’ll bake something for dessert. And I’ll make breakfast for you on Thursday morning.” Her dark eyes stared up at the ceiling as she considered what to make. “Waffles. No . . . pancakes. No . . . eggs. What should it be, girls?” she asked the twins.
“Waffles!” they cried in unison.
“You heard them, Maddie. Waffles it is.” Ellie went to the table and kissed the top of each of their heads. “But no more Pop-Tarts after Wednesday except on special occasions.”
Their lips turned down, and frown lines appeared on their foreheads.
“Don’t give me those sad faces. The two of you have eaten enough Pop-Tarts during this kitchen renovation to last for the rest of your lives.” Ellie crumbled up the empty Pop-Tart foil wrapping. “Becca will be here soon. Run along upstairs to your room and get dressed. I already laid your clothes out for you.”
As they watched the girls skip down the hall hand in hand, Maddie lowered her voice and said, “I’m telling you what, Miss Ellie. My heart done jumped right out of my chest when I heard about Miss Lia’s husband. Do you think she done murdered him?”
“I honestly don’t know, Maddie.” Ellie sank down to a chair at the table. “She’s unstable, but I can’t imagine her killing her husband with a butcher knife. I never met Ricky Bertram, but he’s the girls’ father. Whether he was a good guy or not, it makes me sad to think they will grow up without a father. Like Lia and I did, without our mother.”
“Them girls have loving parents in you and Mr. Julian. Giving birth to chil’run doesn’t make a woman a good mother. God has brought them girls to you for a reason. He’s counting on you and Mr. Julian to do right by them.”
Tears blurred her vision as she stared up at Maddie. “Do you really believe that, Maddie?”
Maddie placed her hand over her ample chest. “With all my heart.”
Ellie swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”
#
Ellie showered, dressed, and sequestered herself in her studio for the rest of the morning. She felt guilty for not going to her gallery to check on the workmen’s progress, but she knew the sounds of construction would only exacerbate her dull headache until it became a full-fledged migraine. Home was quiet for a change with just the swish of the painters’ brushes as they finished touching up the trim in the kitchen.
At least my commercial painters are accomplishing something. But not me.
Without once lifting her brush, she stared for hours at her two current works in progress, both oils—one of a storm rolling in over the Charleston harbor, and the other a pair of hummingbirds inspired by one of her father’s photographs. She finally gave up and took her sketchpad and graphite pencils out to the terrace. She reclined on the chaise lounge with eyes closed as she considered the detail of the image foremost in her mind. Her pencil flew across the paper as she portrayed the child—cheeks and nose speckled with freckles, eyes sparkling with life through thick lashes, wisps of frizzy hair framing her face. When she was finished, she held the sketchpad at a distance and admired her drawing of Ruby.
She’d hoped to hear back from Rose Bellamy, and was disappointed that she hadn’t. She promised Julian she would stop obsessing about her young student, but she couldn’t help herself. She sensed something was desperately wrong in the child’s life. She’d given Ruby her business card with the understanding that she would be there for her if she needed her. The child had tried to get in touch with her twice, in the middle of the night, which was a cry for help if ever there was one.
Tucking her sketchbook under her arm, she went to her computer in her studio and searched the online white pages for the Fuqua family. She came up with a list of ten names in and around the Charleston area, but only one was in the Peninsula Elementary School district. Seeing no harm in driving by the house, she jotted the address onto a sticky note.
She left her desk and went out into the hall. The house was silent. There were no saws or hammers, no music blaring from the painters’ portable radio. When she saw that the door to Julian’s study was closed, she decided not to disturb h
im. She wouldn’t be gone long enough for him to miss her. She considered riding her bike, but decided against it. The Fuqua address was only a mile or so away, but she was unsure about the safety of the neighborhood. She retrieved her keys from the console table and was on her way out the back door when her decorator arrived.
“I left you a message,” Jackie said, looking fashionable as ever in a black-and-white color-block dress. “I hope this a convenient time for us to deliver your breakfast table and chairs.”
Ellie checked her phone. “I didn’t get your message. Are you sure you dialed the right number?”
“Sorry. I probably dialed your house number by mistake. My delivery guys are on the way. I can wait for them if you need to leave.” Jackie removed her Gucci sunglasses and peered over Ellie’s shoulder into the kitchen. “This place is really taking shape.” She brushed past her and entered the kitchen. She circled the island before moving to the bank of windows on the north side of the room. “I think you’ll be pleased when you see the finished product. Reclaimed oak was the ideal choice for the table, and the upholstered cushion for the bench seat turned out just as I’d hoped.”
“I’ve been pleased with everything you’ve done for me so far, Jackie. I’m sure I’ll love the table as well. Unfortunately, I have to run out on an errand. Can you handle the delivery?”
A look of disappointment crossed Jackie’s face. “I was hoping to see your reaction, but I understand.”
“I promise I’ll call you as soon as I get back. Make yourself at home. Maddie is in the house somewhere if you need anything.” Ellie exited the house before Jackie could object.
Using Google Maps for guidance, she navigated her Mini Cooper through the downtown streets, each appearing progressively more run-down as she approached her destination. Huckleberry Court sounded like a pleasant place to live, but the ramshackle houses lining the street suggested otherwise. The Fuquas’ home, a “single house”—named as such because of its single-room width—was no different. The yard was mostly dirt, aside from a few tufts of weeds. The side porch, slanted with rotten newel posts, housed the family’s collection of junk—a rusted-out refrigerator, plastic patio furniture, and rolled-up carpet remnants. There were no cars parked on the street, and shades were pulled down over the windows. As she idled in front of the house, Ellie said a silent prayer that Ruby was in school where she belonged. Where she was safe from whatever bad things happened to her in this house at night.
CHAPTER TEN
Ellie
Ellie arrived at school early on Tuesday, hoping for a chance to speak with the principal before her class started, but Rose Bellamy was in a meeting and could not be disturbed. She held her breath as her students filed into the room, hoping to see Ruby’s enthusiastic face and bright eyes. But the last student arrived with no sign of Ruby. She waited until the other students were settled.
“Does anyone know where Ruby is? Is she absent today?” She managed to sound casual despite the panic rising in her chest.
“Don’t you get the absentee list, Mrs. Hagood?” Terrell asked. “Ruby hasn’t been to school all week.”
None of the faculty had ever mentioned an absentee list to Ellie. More evidence the other teachers didn’t take her seriously. She was a volunteer, teaching a frivolous art class to a select group of students.
Nikki sent an elbow to Terrell’s ribs. “It’s only Tuesday, dummy. She’s probably just sick.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Ellie said, but she suspected Ruby’s absence was related to more than the common cold.
Her students’ excitement over finishing their self-portraits boosted her spirits, but after class, she marched down to the office and demanded to see the principal. The secretary’s efforts to ward off Ellie failed when she noticed Rose Bellamy’s door cracked and barged right in.
“Did you find out anything about Ruby Fuqua?” she asked as she approached the desk. “She was absent yesterday and today. I’m extremely worried about her, Rose.”
“I contacted a friend who works for the South Carolina Department of Social Services,” Rose said, her eyes remaining on the computer. “I haven’t heard back from her yet. I’ll be sure to let you know when I do.”
Ellie knew the middle-aged black woman more through reputation than experience. She’d had minimum interaction with the principal since she’d started volunteering at the school. From what she’d heard, Rose kept her students in line with strict disciplinary tactics. Ellie was not an expert, but in her mind, elementary students required equal amounts of nurturing and discipline.
“I mean no disrespect, Rose, but that’s not good enough. This child’s life might be in danger.”
Rose turned away from the computer and stood to face Ellie. “Do you have any proof that Ruby is the one who called you on Saturday night?”
Ellie held her phone out to the principal. “I still have the number. The police can easily trace it.”
Rose glanced down at the phone and flinched. “Hold on a minute. It is way too premature to get the police involved. What prompted you to give Ruby your number in the first place?”
Ellie took a deep breath, thinking, I will not let this self-important woman intimidate me.
“I explained all that to you when we spoke on the phone Sunday morning. In class last week, I placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder as we were discussing her self-portrait project, and she winced as though in pain.”
“But did you actually see any bruises?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe the child fell off her bicycle?” Rose asked.
That was the explanation Ruby had provided, but Ellie doubted the child owned a bicycle. “Ruby hasn’t been her usual bright self for the past few weeks. I have a feeling something is very wrong in her life.”
“You’ve done all you can do for now,” Rose said, returning her attention to her computer. “Please close the door on your way out.”
Ellie stared down at the top of the principal’s head, noticing the bald spots where her hair was thinning. “I’m required by law to report it if I suspect a child may be being abused at home. If it happens again, I will call the police.”
Rose’s head shot up. “You do what you think best.” She pointed her slim, manicured finger at Ellie. “But I’ll remind you, you are not employed by this school. You are strictly here on a volunteer basis—a situation that can be terminated at any point.”
Anger surged through Ellie’s body. “And I’ll remind you that I’m donating my time to enrich the lives of children who would not otherwise have an opportunity to explore the world of art.”
“You’re not indispensable, Mrs. Hagood. Anyone on my staff can teach these students how to color pictures.”
Bracing herself against the desk, Ellie leaned in close to Rose. “Whether I’m a paid employee or not, you have no right to speak to me like this.”
The principal jabbed her finger toward the door. “You may leave now. And don’t bother coming back. Your services at this school are no longer needed.”
Ellie straightened. “Fine. I’ll leave. But you haven’t seen the last of me. I plan to report this incident, including your insolent attitude toward me and complete disregard for a child’s well-being, to the school board.”
#
Ellie raced her Mini across town for the meeting Julian had arranged with their attorney to discuss adoption proceedings for the twins. She arrived fifteen minutes late.
“I’m so sorry,” Ellie said when Tyler and Julian stood to greet her. “I got tied up at the elementary school.”
“No worries,” Tyler said.
Ellie approved of the young attorney, who had represented Julian in his divorce from his first wife and custody battle over Katie. Despite his age, Tyler’s extensive knowledge of the law instilled confidence in them. She wanted him on her side in the courtroom. She sensed a controlled aggression simmering beneath his cool outward composure.
“Your husband was just bringing me up to speed on the events of the past week.” Tyler said, motioning her to sit on the sofa next to Julian.
As she took her seat, she gave Julian’s arm a squeeze, an apology for being late. He smiled and winked at her in return. She crossed her legs and clasped her hands together in her lap to stop them from shaking. She was a wreck after her confrontation with Rose and then rushing to get to the meeting on time. Facing a wall of windows in Tyler’s office that overlooked the harbor, she stared out across the glistening water at Fort Sumter and forced Rose and Ruby from her mind.
“So you know my sister is at the top of the list of suspects in her husband’s murder,” Ellie said. “How do these new developments affect our case? I don’t mean to sound crass, but we no longer have to worry about the legal rights of the father since he’s no longer alive. Lia being wanted for murder, though, doesn’t speak well for her character.”
Tyler steepled his fingers. “That may be so, but she is still their mother. All reasonable efforts to locate the biological parents must be made. Your recent trip to Key West will help your case in that regard. However, by South Carolina law, child abandonment occurs when a parent willfully deserts a child or surrenders physical possession of a child without making adequate arrangements for the child’s needs. In your sister’s case, she made adequate arrangements for the girls’ needs by leaving them in your care. Based on what you’ve told me in previous meetings, you offered to keep the girls while your sister figured out her life. She understood you had the means to provide for them. On the flip side is the lack of meaningful communication with the child or caregiver for a period of three months.”
Julian glanced at Ellie and then back at Tyler. “What exactly are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you are facing a long, complicated process. This letter”—he opened a file on his lap and held up a photographed copy of Lia’s letter—“grants you temporary custody. No court will argue that. But to permanently adopt the girls, the South Carolina Department of Social Services will require an investigation to determine that you are mentally and financially capable of taking care of your nieces.”
Beyond the Garden (Magnolia Series Book 2) Page 6
