Megan’s eyes rounded in astonishment. “He wants to sell my dolls? People would pay real money for them?”
“He’ll have to take a look at them first. I don’t know how much the retail price would be, but you’d probably get half of whatever he sells them for.”
“I never thought about selling them. I just use old dried husks that everybody throws away.”
“They’re cleverly made, Megan. I love that you’ve created a whole matching family for Gwen, and that cowboy setup and barn for Beck is adorable.”
“How much do you think they’re worth?” She looked eager now, her expression filled with hope.
“I don’t know. I don’t have very good Internet access here at home, but you could use the library’s computers to see what other people get for their dolls. I’m sure Steve would make you a fair deal.”
“I’ve only used the school’s computers, and we’re not supposed to use them for personal stuff.”
“I know what we can do,” Kate said. “Instead of you coming here after school tomorrow, why don’t we meet at the library. We’ll look up cornhusk dolls and see what they’re worth.”
Megan appeared to weigh Kate’s suggestion. “If it doesn’t take too long, can I come back here to work some more?”
Clearly the girl was worried about the money she’d lose by not working.
“Of course you can. A Google search on the computer goes quite fast.”
With a relieved smile, Megan went back to her task, tackling a two-foot-tall stalk of something with prickly leaves. She dug around the unwelcome guest in the flower bed, then yanked it out.
“Where do you usually get your cornhusks?” Kate asked.
“Mostly just when we eat corn in the summer. There’s usually a vegetable stand out on the main road. Sometimes those folks will give me the husks they’re throwing away or corn that’s gone old on ’em. I’ve got a whole box full of husks.”
Kate had an unwelcome thought. “I suppose Sam Gorman at the Mercantile tosses old ears of corn in the Dumpster behind his store.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never looked.”
Kate hoped that Megan was telling the truth. Still, corn wasn’t in season now. Megan and her siblings, driven by hunger, could have dug through the Dumpster more recently.
Kate didn’t want to believe that.
When they’d cleared the weeds from the flower bed, Kate decided to call it a day.
“Would you like me to drive you home?”
Megan shook her head. “Naw, it’s okay. I don’t mind walking.”
After a full day at school and two hours of gardening, Kate was sure Megan had to be tired. But once again, she didn’t want to push the girl too hard.
“Okay, let me get some money for you.” Kate went inside and returned with the money and a bag of apples. “Paul and I have a huge bag full of apples, and we won’t be able to eat them all before they spoil. I thought maybe your family would enjoy them.” Kate suspected that fruit and vegetables were low on the Maddock’s priority list, well behind peanut butter.
“Sure. I guess.” The girl took the money and shoved it in her pocket, then took the bag of apples. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Tomorrow will be easier. No weeding, just planting.”
Megan gave her a shy smile, then turned away to walk home by herself, leaving Kate to feel vaguely guilty that she hadn’t insisted on driving her home.
What should I do about that girl, Lord?
WHEN PAUL CAME HOME, Kate was in her studio sorting through bits and pieces of cobalt blue glass for the background of her sunflower sun catcher.
“I’m in here,” she called to him.
She sensed him enter the room but didn’t look up. “How was your day, dear?”
“Typical Monday. One parishioner called to say my sermon yesterday wasn’t up to its usual standard. Another called to let me know it was the best sermon she’d ever heard.”
“Oh dear.” Smiling, Kate looked up from her glass sorting. “If it means anything, I side with whoever said your sermon was great.”
“You’re the most important member of the congregation as far as I’m concerned. And the tie breaker.” He crossed the room to give her a kiss. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”
“Anytime.”
“Were you in town today?”
“I was. Among other things, I stopped by to see Steve Smith. He’d sold a couple of my stained-glass pieces and wants more for the store and for Old Timer’s Day.”
“I thought he would. Did you hear what happened at Emma’s Ice Cream Shop?”
“No. What?”
“Someone broke in through the back door last night. Got into the ice-cream freezer and made off with two of those big five-gallon containers of ice cream. Emma found them a block down the street this morning. Ripped apart at the seams and empty.”
Kate’s first thought was that Beck had consumed more than one gallon of ice cream. But that didn’t seem possible. Or reasonable. He was only nine years old. No youngster that age could eat that much ice cream without exploding. He’d certainly have trouble ripping the heavy cardboard apart without the help of someone bigger and stronger as well.
“Sam’s Dumpster was ransacked again last night too,” she told Paul. “He was really upset.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Paul picked up a six-inch square of onyx red glass and held it up to the overhead light to look through it. “Skip Spencer came over to Emma’s to take a look at the crime scene, but I’m not sure how easy this case will be for our young deputy to solve.”
“He’s a sweet young man and an eager police officer, but he’s got a lot of growing to do,” Kate agreed.
In terms of being an amateur social worker, Kate knew she had a lot of growing to do too. Then again, she had no right to interfere in a family’s life if the mother was present in the household, even if things weren’t as Kate would have liked them to be. She couldn’t run roughshod over Glynis Maddock.
But that would change if she didn’t get a clearer picture of the children’s situation and what danger they might be in soon.
Chapter Six
Early the next morning, Kate made another trip to Jenkins Nursery, this time to pick up flats of bedding plants—blue phlox and asters and mixed petunias. She had to special-order a flat of bluebonnets. Floyd Jenkins told her they’d arrive in a few days.
In some ways, designing a garden was like designing one of her stained-glass pieces. Colors complemented each other, and the eye saw the whole in a different way than it would when viewing a single piece of glass or an isolated flower.
An overcast sky threatened rain, and Kate barely made it home in time to set out the flats of flowers she’d purchased, change clothes, and toss together a green salad for the potluck luncheon that followed the women’s Bible study at church.
Slightly breathless as she descended the stairs to the all-purpose room in the church basement, Kate found Millie Lovelace and Dot Bagley already there.
“I do hope we’ll be able to start this meeting on time. I have to get to the SuperMart right after lunch,” said Millie, the sixty-year-old part-time church secretary.
“You can always leave early.” Dot had spread a white tablecloth over a long folding table and was putting out paper napkins and silverware for the luncheon. “Of course, we’d miss you,” she quickly added with a sweet smile.
Kate placed her salad bowl on the table beside the plate of deviled eggs Dot had brought.
“I do have one item I’d like the group to discuss before we all have to leave,” Kate said.
“If it’s not on the agenda, we won’t have time.” Millie straightened the napkins Dot had placed on the table.
“It will take only a minute or two.” Kate realized she shouldn’t have brought up the issue with time-conscious Millie. “It’s something Paul wants me to ask the ladies.”
“Oh.” That seemed to give Millie pause. Paul was her boss, after all, though yo
u wouldn’t know it by the way Millie ran the church office.
Others began arriving, including Phoebe West, who carried her sleeping infant in a cuddly sling across her chest. Patricia Harris, always trim and neat with her short blonde hair, followed right behind Phoebe.
As soon as most of the women were present, they sat down in a circle of folding chairs. Dot Bagley opened the meeting with a short prayer, then everyone got out their Bible-study material.
“Before we get into today’s lesson, I have something I’d like to discuss,” Kate said. Before Millie could object, she added, “It won’t take long.”
Seeing nods of agreement from everyone except Millie, Kate launched into the plans for Old Timer’s Day and the food booth she hoped the ladies would support with their time and their baked goods to raise money for the Faith Freezer Program.
Martha Sinclair, a steady volunteer since the beginning of the Faith Freezer Program, spoke up first. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We need the money to buy staples, and I’d like more people to learn about the service in case they know of someone who could use our help. I’ll bring two cakes to sell. What about the rest of you?”
Her enthusiastic support seemed to spur the women into action. They volunteered to work in shifts to cover the hours the event took place and agreed to donate cakes and pastries.
Millie glanced at her watch, and Kate decided to get the lesson going. She nodded to Patricia Harris, who began the lesson about Jesus feeding the multitudes with a few scant fish and loaves of bread.
A lesson those who so willingly gave of themselves to support Faith Freezer had already learned, Kate realized. Thank you, Lord.
BY THE TIME KATE WENT HOME then started for town to meet Megan at the library, the rain had begun in earnest. She wished now that she’d suggested picking Megan up at the school so she wouldn’t have to walk in the rain. Hopefully Megan had thought to wear a rain jacket when she left home that morning.
Kate hurried up the steps of the two-story brick building. Once under the eaves, she shook the rain from her umbrella, folded it up, and pulled open the impressive oak door. Inside, the air felt warm, and there was the faint scent of old paper and ink, contrasting with the sight of modern electronic catalog terminals near the horseshoe-shaped front counter.
Livvy was working behind the counter, her reading glasses perched on top of her head.
“Hey, Kate,” the head librarian said in greeting. “What brings you out on such a wet day?”
“I’m meeting Megan Maddock here after school. She’s the girl I told you about.”
“The family that lives out in Smoky Mountain Hollow?”
“Right. Megan makes very creative cornhusk dolls, and Steve Smith thinks he might want to take some on consignment for an Old Timer’s Day craft booth. We’re going to check the Internet to see what similar dolls are selling for.”
A twinkle brightened Livvy’s hazel eyes. “I see your hand at work here. You think that could be a way for the girl to make a little extra money to help her family.”
“She is very talented.”
The door to the library burst open, admitting a chilly gust of wind along with three young adolescent boys. Laughing and dripping rainwater on the carpet, they bumped against each other in good fun.
“Easy, guys,” Livvy admonished them. “Library rules.”
The youngsters grimaced but quieted down, making their way to a table at the back of the fiction section.
“Sometimes on rainy days the kids like to come here instead of hanging out at the school yard or going home,” Livvy commented without rancor. “Fortunately, I love ’em all. Well, most anyway.”
Kate could understand Livvy’s ambivalence about the somewhat noisy invasion of her domain.
When the library door opened again, it was Megan. Drenched to the skin, her stringy long hair was dark blonde and dripping from the ends. Her old T-shirt clung to her narrow frame, and her sneakers left a trail of damp footprints across the carpet.
“Oh, Megan, you’re soaked. I should’ve picked you up at school.” Kate hurried to the girl. “Let’s get you to the restroom. At least we can dry your hair with some paper towels.”
Megan tried to wring out her wet hair. “I’m okay, ma’am.”
“I guess you didn’t think it was going to rain today and forgot your jacket.”
“Yes, ma’am. I forgot...,” she mumbled. She glanced quickly toward the back of the library where the older students had commandeered a study table, then just as quickly looked away.
Kate heard one of the three boys in the back say something she couldn’t quite make out, but she knew the remark was aimed at Megan and wasn’t complimentary. The other boys laughed.
“Where are the computers?” Megan kept her head down.
Kate’s heart ached for the girl. It was no fun to be singled out as the butt of some boy’s joke, particularly for an adolescent struggling to find her way to womanhood. “They’re upstairs. Let’s go.”
Holding her head high and fixing her eyes on the boys to let them know she’d heard the remark, Kate led Megan up the stairs.
This area was quieter than the first floor and housed the nonfiction section, meeting rooms, and a bank of computers for public use.
“Why don’t you pick a computer, and I’ll show you how to Google for what you want to find,” Kate suggested.
“Oh, I know Google, ma’am. We use that at school.”
Kate chuckled at herself. “Guess I lost track of what you kids are learning these days.”
Megan pulled a chair up to the first computer and sat down. Within moments, she’d connected to the Internet, brought up the Google search engine, and typed in “cornhusk dolls” in the window.
Almost instantly, the screen filled with related Web sites, most of them about how to make cornhusk dolls.
“Since you already know how to make the dolls, let’s narrow our search by adding the word buy to the key terms,” Kate suggested.
Again, dozens of links appeared. Megan began working her way through them one at a time. She clicked through pictures of dolls and checked the prices.
“Look at that!” Megan exclaimed as she came across the most expensive doll she’d found. “They want sixty bucks for that old-fashioned doll. I could make it for nothin’. Cornhusks don’t cost a penny.” She leaned closer to the screen. “That fancy-dancy hat she’s wearing wouldn’t be hard to make either. Just a little swatch of material. The apron too.”
Megan spent another half hour going through Web sites before she turned to Kate. “Is Mr. Smith really going to pay me something for the dolls he sells?”
“You bet.”
“Wow! If he only paid me half”—she did the mental calculation—“that could be as much as thirty dollars for just one doll.”
“Well, that would have to be a very elaborate doll. Yours are a little simpler in style, but they’re still worth good money. At least, I think so.”
“Wow,” Megan said again before moving her chair away from the computer. “I’d better get busy makin’ a bunch of dolls for Old Timer’s Day.”
Based on that comment, Kate suspected she’d lost her gardening helper. “I thought you’d want to. You need to talk to Steve Smith too. He’ll be able to help you figure out the kinds of dolls that are likely to sell best.”
Her eyes alight with enthusiasm, Megan walked downstairs beside Kate. “I can drop by the gift shop after school one day this week,” Megan said.
Looking out the window, Kate could see that a late-afternoon gloom had settled in, and it was still raining. No gardening today, she thought.
Kate waved good-bye to Livvy and said to Megan, “My car’s right down the street. I’ll drive you home.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can walk.”
“I can’t let you do that. Your hair and clothes are just barely starting to dry. I know the school bus has already gone. You’ll catch your death if you walk all the way home in this downpour.”
“I’ve walked in the rain before,” Megan said stubbornly.
Kate wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “If I let you walk home and you catch a cold, I’ll feel terribly guilty. I’ll probably lay awake all night praying and worrying about you,” she explained. “So letting me drive you home would be a favor to me, okay?”
Megan eyed her suspiciously, and then a little smile tugged at her lips. “A favor, huh?”
“Yes.” Kate laughed. “Come on.”
Stepping out the door, she opened her umbrella. Side by side, the two made a dash for the Honda, their feet splashing in puddles that had formed on the pavement. Rain drummed on the umbrella like an acoustic band. Wind gusted, sending tree branches into a gyrating dance.
They reached the car and separated, Kate sliding behind the steering wheel while Megan climbed in the passenger side.
“Whew! That’s some spring shower.” Kate put the closed umbrella on the floor of the backseat. “I’ll get the heater going in a second. That’ll warm you up.”
The girl wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m okay.”
Except for the goose bumps Kate could see on Megan’s bare arms, she might have believed the girl. The child tried so hard to be independent, so grown-up.
Few cars were on the street as Kate pulled away from the curb, and the streetlights had automatically turned on, though they did little to cut through the gloom. The windshield wipers worked frantically to clear away the rain.
“Would you have really prayed for me?” Megan asked.
Kate glanced at Megan. “Of course I would. In fact, I’ve already prayed for you.” A good many times.
“Why?”
Kate smiled as she turned onto the road to Smoky Mountain Hollow. “Well, because I like you, and I want God to watch over you and your brother and sister. Your mother too.”
“I don’t think anybody’s ever prayed for me before.”
For the Least of These Page 5
