He adjusted his apron ties. “Sounds like a plan. Whom should I contact?”
Sadie recited Carmen Rios’s number and lifted a half-full bag of potting soil to hide her flaming cheeks.
“Here. Let me.” Without hesitation, he took the bag from her and deposited it in the corner where she indicated.
She couldn’t help but notice how the muscles of his arms rippled under his short-sleeved, tan T-shirt. His chivalry intensified her blush. Her ogling his arms hadn’t helped either. “Thanks, I can get the rest.”
“No problem. You sound like my Nana. She never let me help her either.” He dusted his hands off on his pants, dug in his pocket for a pen, and wrote the shelter’s phone number on his palm.
“Nana? I thought you were raised by foster families?” Sadie gathered her tools and returned them to the shelf.
He propped against the shelving unit and lowered his gaze. “Right. My brother and I lived with Nana until she passed away. Then the state took over.”
Sam’s chatting provided her with more information about his background, but could any of it be true? Although her heart ached for the lost little boy, she figured a little more probing couldn’t hurt.
“You have a brother?”
“Yeah. Just the two of us. I’m the youngest. How about you? Do you have any brothers?”
A cold wave hit her, dousing the flush. She hadn’t thought of Aaron’s brother for months. He was the closest person she—Sadie—ever had to a brother. Cal Malone had been the perfect brother-in-law, but Debra Johnson had no one.
“No. I don’t have any family.” She grabbed the handle of the empty dolly and focused on its rusty, scraped surface. “Thanks for the help. I need to get back to work.”
With the dolly rumbling in front of her, she left Sam standing in the corner. She vowed to stay away from him. Every question he asked catapulted her into the past. True, she had to refresh her CPR skills to volunteer at the shelter, but she already knew how to do the infant Heimlich. She and Aaron had taken CPR lessons before Hannah’s birth.
Hot tears pooled. But these skills couldn’t save her precious child the day Aaron’s car slithered off the bridge into the dark waters of the Santa Ana River.
4
Hairspray fumes and the fragrance of a bouquet of floral shampoos filled the Hair To Dye For Beauty Shop. While Sadie sat in the hot pink vinyl chair, a black rayon cloak covering all but her head, Yolanda’s incessant chatter bombarded her. The petite, olive-skinned beauty shop operator had already touched up Sadie’s dark roots and now trimmed her unruly curls.
The salon, around the corner from Sadie’s apartment, had been one of her first stops after moving to Texas. At her initial appointment, Yolanda had chopped off her dark wavy locks. The resulting curls still surprised Sadie. She guessed the drier California climate and the weight of her hair had held them in check before.
Yolanda fluffed curls with her fingers. “There you go, honey. All set for another six weeks.”
“Thanks.” Sadie tilted her head to examine the curls in the large mirror above Yolanda’s workstation. “You have magic fingers, Yolie.”
She paid the receptionist and headed home. Plans for the rest of her day off included laundry, dusting—which she hated—and relaxing with a novel she bought last week at the book exchange.
Three washers were already occupied in the overheated and musty laundry room. Sadie piled her sorted clothes into the other two machines. When the water trickled into each one, she gathered detergent, fabric softener, and her basket, and sauntered towards her apartment. She once made the mistake of leaving her basket on the machine, only to have it disappear. Now she lugged her supplies back and forth.
Mrs. Gaffney, her neighbor, stuck her head out and called as Sadie approached her door. “Debra, dear, I need to talk to you. Can you come inside a minute?”
“Of course.” She set the laundry basket by a stack of flattened cardboard boxes on Louise’s living room floor. “What’s up?”
Mrs. Gaffney motioned to the sofa while she sat in a plush maroon armchair rocker. “Sit, please.”
Sadie sank into the chintz-covered cushions.
Intertwining her gnarled fingers, Mrs. Gaffney rocked back and forth. “Remember I told you my kids in Dallas want me closer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll be moving soon. My daughter bought a house with separate quarters for me.” Her voice wavered and she hiked a bony shoulder. “I guess her heart’s in the right place, but…”
“I’ll be sorry to see you leave.” They’d been neighbors for a year, and she’d mothered Sadie in many ways. “But I’m sure your grandchildren will love having you close by.”
“I know. I know.” Her gaze roamed the room. “I’ll miss this place and my independence. Bonnie will hover and before I know it, she’ll take my car keys away.”
“Louise, she won’t do that.” But Sadie had met her daughter once and could sympathize with Mrs. Gaffney’s apprehension. “You have many active years ahead of you. Show Bonnie how well you can manage.”
Louise slumped in the chair as a tear channeled down the wrinkles on her cheek. “You’re right.” She dabbed the moisture with a lace-edged handkerchief. “I should be grateful I have family who care about me.”
Although her mention of family dampened Sadie’s mood, she forced enthusiasm into her words. “You’ll do fine.”
“I suppose.”
“When will you be leaving?”
Expelling a sigh, Louise tucked the handkerchief into her pocket. “Wednesday. Bonnie’s hired a packing company. A young couple will take over my lease.”
“Wow. That’s quick.”
“I know. Bonnie and Henry settled the house deal sooner than expected. I thought I’d have problems with the lease, but Cathy said a couple recently inquired about renting.”
Cathy, the efficient apartment manager, no doubt jumped at the chance to raise the rent.
A dark cloud appeared in Sadie’s mind. “I can’t believe it.” New neighbors meant admitting more people into her life. “Have you met the couple?”
Louise picked up a slip of paper from the coffee table. “Yes. They came by yesterday afternoon.” She glanced at the paper. “Janelle and Pete Williams. And they have the cutest little boy, Zack. About eighteen months old. Cathy agreed they could move in the weekend after I leave.”
“Interesting.” A myriad of thoughts invaded Sadie’s brain.
Mrs. Gaffney decided to leave and immediately a couple showed up to take over her lease. Why here? Why not the unit on the other side of the pool where two apartments stood empty? Why not the apartment complex across the street where the vacancy sign flashed every day?
“Are you all right, dear? You’ve gone a little pale.”
Sadie tried to dislodge the doubts. “Yes, I’m fine. It must be the thought of losing you.” She cleared her throat and stood. “Do you need any help? I’m off work today.”
“No, thanks, dear. I’m packing my personal items. Then I have to organize a bit so when the movers come next week everything will be ready for them.”
“Come and say good-bye before you leave.” Sadie picked up the laundry basket.
“I will.”
The thought of losing Louise bothered her, but knowing people were ready to move in concerned her more. Should she contact Griff or wait until she’d met the Williams family? Sadie decided to wait and give her paranoia a rest.
****
Friday and Saturday zoomed by with customers scouring Sadie’s department for items to spruce up their awakening gardens. Although still early in March, the warming temperature inspired amateur landscapers by the droves.
She had little contact with Sam. In her heart, she knew it best that way, but she couldn’t help searching for his dark curls or listening for his deep voice.
The Sunday morning service at Hillcrest Church started at nine o’clock. She could attend and still make her afternoon shift at Rhodes.
&n
bsp; Slacks and blue jeans comprised the bulk of her wardrobe, but today she picked out a pink swirly dress, a deeper pink sweater draped over her shoulders, and wore high heeled black sandals. After parking, she stepped onto the graveled lot and stumbled over a small rock.
A warm hand grasped her elbow. “Hey, watch out.”
Her knees buckled. Not from the near fall, but from hearing Sam’s voice.
“Thanks. What are you doing here?” Her gaze traveled over his striped tan shirt and khakis. She freed her arm and focused instead on where to place her feet as she made her way to the sidewalk leading around the stone building.
“Hi, to you, too. I’m here to worship. Is that all right with you?” The warmth in Sam’s words diluted their sting.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Your presence surprised me. That’s all.”
He opened the heavy wooden door and waited while Sadie entered the vestibule in front of him. “April told me she attends here. I thought I’d give it a shot.”
“I see.” You’re not following me? “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Head lowered, she elbowed her way down the aisle to her favorite pew, five rows from the front. April worked early and wouldn’t be joining her today.
When Sadie bowed her head, she shuddered at her rudeness. Here in this special place, how could she be so cold? She should have asked Sam to sit with her, but how could she encourage him to find what he sought when many Sundays she didn’t even know why she came? And there was the matter of his lies. She still didn’t know who Sam Boudine could be.
People filled the pews around her, and still she kept her head down. Often when she entered the hundred-year-old building, she cringed at her hypocrisy. She had no business coming to worship, because she lied every day, too, but she couldn’t stay away. Something drew her most Sunday mornings.
“Dear God,” she whispered. “Help me open my heart to You again.”
Hymns echoed around her. Words of prayer gnawed at her soul. She and Aaron had operated a puppet ministry in Los Angeles. They wrote and acted out Bible stories for Sunday school classes, for vacation Bible schools, and for inner-city youth groups. They lived for their ministry.
Then the crimes she’d uncovered destroyed everything. Running, hiding. The accident that took Aaron and Hannah. The trial. WITSEC.
In Seattle, she avoided church buildings, and when she moved to Austin, she had no desire to visit either. But one Sunday morning, on what would have been Hannah’s sixth birthday, Sadie passed Hillcrest Church on the way to a coffee shop. Words of a favorite hymn soared through the open windows, spilled out onto the sidewalk, and coaxed her in. How she needed light in her soul. She had to enter the building.
She’d attended almost every Sunday since, but some mornings, she sat like a stone in a rock pile, waiting for the Word to penetrate her apathy and ignite the passion that once burned so fiercely.
At the conclusion of the service, without a clue to the sermon topic, she shuffled out of the building with other parishioners.
Reece Patterson shook her hand at the door. “Good to see you, Debra. How’s the job?”
He always asked a specific question, and she gave a general reply. “Fine, thanks. How are the kids?”
“A handful, as usual. See you next week.” Reece turned to the couple behind her.
Sadie moved to the shade of a live oak and berated herself. Why did she keep up the pretense? She wasn’t a Christian. At least she didn’t act like one. Her inner thoughts vanished when someone tapped her arm.
Sam beamed a smile at her. “Hey, why so glum?”
Flippant words pranced on her tongue, but she bit her lip and waited a second for her self-loathing to dissipate. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I should have asked you to join me.”
“That’s OK. I found another visitor and sat with him.” Sam glanced over Sadie’s shoulder. “There. That guy carrying his jacket over his arm.”
Sadie turned, but didn’t recognize the man.
“Said his name’s Pete Williams. They’re moving here next week, and he’s scouting for a church.”
Sam’s words hit her like a ballistic missile. She blinked as the pain between her eyes blurred her vision. Rubber replaced leg muscles and she teetered. She gripped Sam’s arm. “Did he say why he came to Hillcrest?”
The church was not exactly in the neighborhood, being a good fifteen miles from the apartment complex.
Sam frowned as he stared at her. “Are you OK?”
How could she share her skepticism with him? She chewed her lip and nodded.
The furrows eased, and he covered her hand with his. “Pete said friends told him about the church. He liked the service and wants to bring his wife and kid next week.”
Sadie drew in a quick breath and removed her hand. It sounded plausible, but why did no one comment on the wary hackles she felt sure were poking through the back of her dress? “Gotta go. Good-bye.” She turned and fast-stepped away.
Sam kept pace as she scurried down the sidewalk. “Um, can you join me for lunch?”
Surprised by his question, she slowed her pace a tad. “Sorry, I can’t. Have to be at Rhodes in an hour.”
“I have to be there at one. Maybe another time.” He doffed an imaginary hat and then crossed the parking lot and climbed into his cream-colored pickup.
Her emotions in turmoil, Sadie staggered when she was tapped on the shoulder again. Behind her stood Grace and Tyrell Evans, Sylvia Guerra, and Kyle Nelson. The group, known as a dynamic foursome, inspired many of the innovative programs at Hillcrest.
Grace, her dark eyes sparkling, slid her arm through her husband’s. “Hey Debra. We have a question. Can you sew?”
They all seemed to be waiting for her answer. Sadie pushed her glasses up on her nose and worded her answer with care. “I’ve handled a needle and thread before. Why?”
Kyle, the newest member of the group, adjusted the strap of his ever-present fancy camera. “You know our attendance has been climbing, and the number of children coming for classes is growing.”
She didn’t know, but nodded.
“We want to start a ministry for kids and need a couple of extra helpers.” Kyle gestured to include the others. “We’re aware that you volunteer at the children’s shelter, and we’ve seen your interest in the programs the youngsters perform during services. And Reece told us you’re good with words. Are you game?”
How had her editing the pastor’s book become public knowledge? “What kind of ministry?”
Sylvia took a step forward. “A puppet ministry.”
Blood deserted Sadie’s brain. Air fought its way into her lungs. Sylvia’s words roared in Sadie’s ears but made no sense. She closed her eyes and wished she could disappear.
“Debra,” Sylvia patted her arm. “Is everything all right?”
Forcing her shoulders to relax, Sadie exhaled. “I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. I think it must be low blood sugar.”
Sylvia seemed to accept the excuse and continued. “I’ve researched this puppet business and found a great website. Hands for Hannah.”
Colored spots flashed before Sadie’s eyes. Old wounds in her heart burst open. She and Aaron had helped develop the website. She blinked to dig herself out of the past.
Tyrell’s voice helped. “And we’re ready to start. Want to join us?”
Of all the programs she could participate in, a puppet ministry suited her skills the best. But could she overcome the precious memories and move forward? Was this the avenue God intended to use to awaken her spirit and generate the healing process? Pros and cons fought for supremacy in her addled brain. Why not do something worthwhile and get involved?
Sadie allowed a genuine smile to break. “OK. I’m in.”
“Way to go, Debra,” Sylvia said.
In unison, Grace and Tyrell let out a chorus of whoops, causing a blush to warm Sadie’s cheeks.
Kyle grabbed his camera strap. His well-groomed sandy mustache twitched as he spoke. “So
glad you agreed to be part of this venture. I’ll walk you to your car and give you details of our plans.” He took Debra’s arm, leading her through the parking lot.
“I could see your hesitation. But don’t worry. Sylvia’s got a handle on things. That website is fantastic. You should check it out.”
“I will.” She had no intention of going anywhere near it.
When they arrived at her car, she punched the remote.
Kyle opened her door. “Our first meeting is this evening at seven. At my house. Can you make it?”
Her shift ended at seven. “I’ll be a bit late.”
“No problem.”
Debra slid into the car and attempted to pull the door shut, but Kyle stepped closer and leaned towards her until his breath fanned her hair.
He held out a black business card with gold lettering. “Here’s my address.”
She grasped it, and Kyle held on for a couple of seconds before letting go. Odd. “Thanks. See you later.”
Debra expected him to back away, but he straightened and said, “Interesting name for a website.”
His slight delay confused her. Kyle had been friendly over the past few months, but his behavior now seemed strange.
“What name?”
“Hands for Hannah?”
After swallowing the cold lump in her throat, she shrugged.
His eyes stayed glued to her face. “Wonder who Hannah was?”
5
Bowen shook his head as he slid his time card into its slot. He’d been at Rhodes a week already. How time flew when he lived undercover. A large contract order awaited him. He adjusted his navy blue apron and trekked through the store to the outdoor lumberyard. Stacks of oak, pine, and cedar filled the air with remnants of their essence. Breathing deeply, Bowen flew back to childhood days when he’d helped his dad craft custom furniture.
The beep-beep of a forklift backing up wiped his memory slate clean. After strapping on his safety goggles, he measured and sawed two-by-fours and six-by-fours, mitered corners, and beveled edges until sawdust piled at his feet. But he couldn’t keep his thoughts off Pastor Patterson’s sermon. Bowen had visited Hillcrest Church because Debra attended services there. He had planned on quizzing people who knew her. But he hadn’t planned on the pastor’s words touching his heart.
Weep In The Night Page 3
