by Brenda Novak
“So why didn’t you tell me?” Molly asked. The tone of her voice indicated she’d shifted to a new topic.
“Tell you what?” Miserably hot, Grace pulled off the T-shirt she’d slept in and sat directly in front of the fan in her panties. The sweat moistening her bare skin made the air feel cooler.
“That you were finally returning to Stillwater.”
Grace had thought about it. She knew Molly would’ve joined her, had she asked. Molly was the pleaser in the family; she tried to take care of everyone. But Grace refused to lean on her the way their mother did. “It came up at the last minute.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true.”
“You had to make a lot of arrangements.”
“Which came together quickly.”
“If you say so.” Obviously, Molly didn’t want to argue further. “How does it feel to be back?”
Dropping onto the bed, Grace stared up at the ceiling, searching for an answer to that question. She was definitely apprehensive about being here. But for now, in this moment, she seemed to belong in Evonne’s space. And not having to hurry off somewhere or finish something felt good.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“How long are you planning to stay?”
“I’ve got the house for three months. But I’m not sure I’ll last the whole time.”
“Please tell me you were going to call Mom.”
“I was. I just—I’ve been busy.”
“A phone call only takes a minute.”
“Molly, don’t start.”
“I won’t, because I’m in too much of a rush. I’ll be late for work if I don’t get a move on.”
“I’ll let you go, then.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” Grace knew her sister was about to hang up, but she had one more question. “Mol?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Come back here, visit Clay in that…that house, have lunch with Madeline, when you know—”
“I don’t think about it,” her sister interrupted.
How could she not think about it? The man who used to be their stepfather was dead. Ever since Grace had helped drag his body down the porch steps, where Clay loaded it into a wheelbarrow, she’d spent almost every night fearing she’d wake up to find the reverend staring in her bedroom window.
“I know Madeline’s still hoping her father will drive back into town and surprise her someday,” Molly went on. “But you and I know the reverend’s gone, Grace. Gone for good. And the world’s a better place for it.”
“Amen to that,” she murmured. “Except it’s not so simple.”
“It can be if you’ll let it.”
Did she really mean that? If so, how? “What if someone finally figures out what happened? These days, cold cases are solved all the time. Someone could discover the car in the quarry. A storm could unearth something too macabre to imagine. A particularly credible witness could set the conflicting stories straight.”
“Calm down. It’s been eighteen years. We’re fine.”
“The people of Stillwater will never forget, Molly. They thought that bastard could walk on water. They didn’t know him the way we did.”
“They can’t even prove he’s dead. You, of all people, should understand how the legal system works.”
She, of all people… Somehow Molly wasn’t making Grace feel any better. The fact that they were still conspiring to hide what had happened so long ago troubled Grace because it suggested that maybe she was still who she used to be and not who she’d become. “You’d better get to work.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Fine.” Grace hung up, then walked to the window to gaze down on Evonne’s backyard. She could tell that Evonne’s family didn’t care as much about the garden as Evonne had. It didn’t look as though anyone had tended it since her death.
Grace was going to change that—
Suddenly, she realized that a black SUV had come to a complete stop in the side street just beyond the fence.
“Oops,” she muttered and jumped out of sight. Had the driver seen her? It was possible. She’d hung a sheet over the bare window, but she’d tied it back in the middle of the night, hoping for more air.
Embarrassed, she bit her lip as she wondered what to do about it. But there wasn’t anything she could do.
Whoever it was couldn’t have seen a great deal from that distance, anyway…she hoped.
Putting on a spaghetti-strap T-shirt, some shorts and a pair of Keds, she headed downstairs. She’d call her mother and Madeline in an hour. First, she wanted to start on Evonne’s garden.
Kennedy Archer cursed at the coffee he’d spilled in his lap when he saw the topless woman at the window. Evonne’s house wasn’t on the market yet, so he hadn’t expected to see anyone inside. Least of all a woman as stunning as the dark-haired beauty who’d just flashed him. Especially at six-thirty in the morning. Judging by the way she’d darted out of sight the moment she realized he was there, she hadn’t meant to put on a show. But a body like that was quite a sight for a man who’d been celibate since the death of his wife two years earlier.
“Daddy? You okay?”
Kennedy pressed his cell phone tighter to his ear. As timing would have it, he’d answered his son’s call seconds before noticing movement at the window—and cried out when the coffee scalded him.
“I’m fine, Teddy,” he said, still trying to hold the hot liquid puddling in the crotch of his pants away from his more sensitive parts. “What’s up?”
His son lowered his voice. “I don’t want to stay with Grandma today.”
Kennedy was well aware of that. Heath, his ten-year-old, seemed to handle Camille Archer quite well. Heath rarely complained. But he was calm, patient, deliberate—a bit of an intellectual. Camille always called him her “good boy.”
Teddy, on the other hand, had a completely different personality. Active, headstrong and already opinionated at eight years of age, he challenged his grandmother at every turn. Or that was how Camille interpreted it. They plowed into one power struggle after another. Yet Kennedy knew that with the right touch Teddy wasn’t a difficult child at all. When Raelynn was alive, she’d been very close to their youngest son.
“Where else would you like to go?” he asked.
“Home.”
“You can’t go home. There’s no one to watch you there.”
“What about Lindy?”
Lindy was a sixteen-year-old neighbor. At least Kennedy thought of her as a neighbor. His house sat on quite a bit of land, so there wasn’t anyone in the immediate vicinity. He liked Lindy, but the last time she babysat, she’d invited her boyfriend over and they’d watched R-rated horror movies with the boys.
Kennedy no longer trusted her judgment. “Not Lindy. But you could go to Mrs. Weaver’s.”
“No, I hate it there!”
Kennedy wished Raelynn’s parents hadn’t followed her brother to Florida ten years ago. Teddy got along better with Grandma Horton than Grandma Archer. But, of course, he only saw his other grandparents once or twice a year. “Teddy, we’ve been through this before. Considering our options, my mother’s is the best place for you. Anyway, it’s not all torture. She took you to the zoo in Jackson last week, remember?”
“That was fun,” he admitted. “But…now I’m bored. Can’t you come and get me?”
“Sorry, buddy. I’ve got to work today. You know that.”
“Then take me with you,” he breathed into the phone. “I like playing in your office at the bank.”
Kennedy maneuvered his Explorer to the side of the road. The street was still empty, but he needed to reach the napkins in his glove compartment and do what he could to keep the coffee from spilling elsewhere in the car. “I can’t. Not today. I’m meeting my campaign director and several key supporters for breakfast. Then I’ve got to speak
at the Rotary Club. After that, I have a shareholders’ meeting.”
“Why do you have to run for mayor?”
Kennedy wondered if now might be a good time to tell Teddy about Grandpa Archer. It would be easier to discuss the subject when Kennedy didn’t have to see his son’s face, when he himself could be more objective about the doctor’s findings. But he couldn’t expect Teddy to deal with that kind of news on his own. Not after losing his mother.
“Your grandpa’s retiring, which will leave the seat vacant for the first time in thirty years. It’s something I’ve been planning to do since I was little.”
“When’s the campaign over?” Teddy asked.
“November. Then, win or lose, life should get easier.”
Teddy groaned. “November? I’ll be back in school by then.”
“I know. This has been a tough year.” But certainly no more difficult than the one before.
Yanking his mind away from those first few months without Raelynn, Kennedy went through his schedule and decided he could skip meeting Buzz and the guys at the pizza parlor later this afternoon. He liked getting together with his friends occasionally. They’d known each other since grade school. But Teddy’s needs came first. “Why don’t I pick you up at four o’clock and take you and Heath out for ice cream?” He supposed they could even stop by the pizza parlor afterward to say hello to the gang.
“Can we go at six instead?”
Kennedy stopped swiping at the coffee in his lap. “Six? That’s when I usually pick you up.”
“I know, but Grandma said she’d take us swimming at four.”
“So you have something fun planned.”
“Not until four!”
“Come on, Teddy.”
There was a lengthy pause. “Can we go camping this weekend?”
“Maybe.”
“Say yes, please?”
“I’ll say yes if you can manage not to argue with Grandma today.”
A dramatic sigh met this response. “O-kay.”
“What’s Heath doing?”
“Watching TV. Until we go swimming, that’s all there is to do. Grandma’s afraid we might get a speck of dirt on her carpet.”
“I thought you were having fun with that mowing service you started.”
“Uh-oh, Grandma’s comin’,” he said and hung up.
Kennedy knew Camille would consider Teddy’s plea to escape her place a personal betrayal. She tried to please him and his brother. But it was difficult for her to be around kids five days a week after not having any for so long. And yet she needed Teddy and Heath with her. Looking after the boys helped keep her mind off his father’s diagnosis. She often tried to convince Kennedy that they loved every minute they spent with her.
Uh-oh, Grandma’s comin’….
Evidently, Teddy was learning how to avoid a confrontation with her.
Chuckling, Kennedy slipped his phone into the extra cup-holder on the console. His youngest son was a handful, all right—but in a boisterous, exuberant way. If Camille had been younger and if she wasn’t so stressed, she’d be able to see that.
“He’ll survive another day,” Kennedy told himself. Camille’s domineering personality might not blend well with Teddy’s, but she loved both boys as much as she loved him. No one, not even Teddy, questioned that.
He glanced at the clock on the dash. He had to get going. He had a lot to do today. And thanks to his sudden glimpse of that woman in the window, he wouldn’t be able to start any of it until he went home to change.
“You weren’t going to let me know you’re in town?”
Still on her knees, Grace shifted around to see her mother standing in Evonne’s backyard. Irene came to visit Grace in Jackson about once a year, but this was the first time since Grace had graduated from high school that they were both in Stillwater.
Clearing her throat, she rose stiffly to her feet. She’d meant to garden for only a couple of hours, but the morning had gotten away from her. It was after noon. Somehow, restoring Evonne’s garden had turned into her mission for the day. Even with her clothes sticking to her, and the knowledge that she’d be sore tomorrow, it felt good to dig and pull weeds and work the earth, to save one plant after another from the neglect of the past few weeks.
Because of the muddy gloves on her hands, Grace wiped the sweat from her forehead with one arm. “I’m sorry,” she said, attempting a smile. “I meant to, Mom. I just…got busy.”
Irene motioned toward the garden. “I guess these weeds couldn’t wait?”
Obviously her mother was hurt. Drawing a deep breath, Grace crossed the lawn to give her a hug. Grace was excited to see Irene, even though she’d dreaded this moment. She admired her mother, missed her, but Irene stirred too many other emotions, as well. “They bother me,” she admitted. “I’m sure Evonne wouldn’t like it. And—” she stepped back and removed her floppy hat to check the gray sky overhead “—I thought I’d get as far as I could before the rain starts.”
Irene didn’t appear convinced that Grace’s concern over the weather had stopped her from calling. But Grace doubted her mother would push the issue. Over the years, they’d established a pattern for dealing with the strain between them, which was better ignored than confronted.
“You’re looking good,” Grace said, and meant it.
“I’m too fat,” Irene responded, but if she had any weight to lose it wasn’t more than ten or fifteen pounds. And the fact that she dressed up for even the smallest errand provided sufficient proof of her vanity.
“No, you’re just right.”
Grace’s smile grew more genuine when she saw her mother brighten at the compliment. Although Irene was only five-two, they had the same oval-shaped face and blue eyes. Grace generally pulled her dark hair into a messy knot at the back of her head and wore little makeup. Her mother went heavy on the mascara and deep-red lipstick, and backcombed her hair into a style vaguely reminiscent of Loretta Lynn.
“Molly told me you’re seeing someone,” Grace said, eager to discover whether her sister was right.
Irene waved a dismissive hand. “Not really. She and that guy she brought for Christmas are dating again, though.”
“Bo’s just a friend, and you know it. But you’re trying to change the subject, and that gives me the impression you’re hiding something.”
“Who would I be seeing? No one around here has ever liked me,” she said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
Whether or not that was the case now, it’d been true in the past. When Irene married the Reverend Barker and moved with her three children from neighboring Booneville twenty-two years ago, Grace had been only nine years old. But nine was old enough to understand that the whispers she frequently heard about her mother weren’t particularly flattering.
Look at her, walkin’ ’round with her nose in the air. I swear I’ve never seen a more uppity woman…. As if we don’t have a dozen ladies right here in Stillwater who would’ve made our good reverend twice the wife…. Why, Irene’s gotta be ten, fifteen years younga than he is. She’s afta his money, that’s what she’s afta.
The reverend had only a modest living and the farm. But that was still more than Irene and her children had possessed in Booneville. And it was enough to make the people of Stillwater resent them. They’d been outsiders, treated as if her mother had taken something she had no right to.
Of course it hadn’t helped that the reverend made subtle yet demeaning comments about his new wife at every opportunity—even from the pulpit. Or that the blush of excitement her mother had experienced in the beginning faded fast as Irene came to know her new husband better.
Grace had always marveled at how loyal this town had been to Barker, that such an evil man could convince so many he was a saint.
A callused hand closed over her arm, and a low, gruff voice grated in her ear, “Don’t make a sound.” When she whimpered, the man she called Daddy squeezed tighter, using the pressure to warn her of the consequences should she disobe
y. Madeline, his own daughter, slept in the bed directly across from her. But Grace knew he’d get his revenge if she woke her stepsister—
“Grace, what’s wrong?” her mother asked.
The memory shattered. Folding her arms tightly across her body to ward off the chill left in its wake, Grace forced a trembling smile. “Nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” she said, but the peace and tranquility she’d enjoyed earlier eluded her now. It felt as if she’d stepped out of the sun into a cold dark cellar. The images and sensations she worked so hard to avoid seemed to bang around inside her head. “I—it’s too hot out here. We should sit on the porch,” she said and started for the house.
“After thirteen years…I can’t believe you’re back,” her mother said as she followed.
Grace spoke before she could catch herself. “I can’t believe you never left.”
“I couldn’t leave,” Irene said indignantly. “Do you think I’d abandon Clay?”
“Like I did?”
Her mother looked stricken. “No, I—I didn’t mean that.”
Grace pressed three fingers to her forehead as she sank onto the porch swing. Of course. No one who knew the truth ever blamed her. They pitied her, didn’t know what to say or how to make things better. But they didn’t blame her. She was the one who blamed herself. “I’m sorry.” She willed her pulse to slow, her calm to return. “Coming here is difficult for me.”
Her mother sat next to her and took her hand. She didn’t say anything, but held on while they rocked back and forth.
Oddly enough, the tension eased. Grace wished her mother had been capable of reaching out to her eighteen years ago….
“Evonne’s place is nice, isn’t it?” Irene said at last.
“I like it here,” Grace told her.
“Will you be staying long?”
“Three months. Maybe.”
“Three months! That’s good.” Letting go, her mother stood. “I love you, Grace. I didn’t say it enough, and I…I let you down. But I do love you.”
Grace didn’t know how to respond. So she asked the question she’d wanted to ask Irene for a long time. “Does ignoring something ugly mean it doesn’t exist, Mom?”
