Testy. Kate tried the word in her head and found it surprisingly useful. Funny that it occasionally described Lena Hemp’s granddaughter to a T.
“You say the daughter moved away when she was young?”
He nodded. “Took up with some fella from Pine Ridge before she was even outta high school. Lena threw her out, and she and her young man moved away.”
“Do you remember Lena’s granddaughters?” she asked him.
Parsons shoveled in another bite of apple pie and raised one finger, indicating that she should wait. He chewed laboriously and swallowed. “Just a bit,” he said. “They were city kids. Come all the way from Philadelphy, where her daughter lived. Can’t recall their names, but they were cute little things.”
“Francie and Emmaline.”
Joshua frowned. Slowly, he said, “No, that don’t sound right. Familiar, but just not quite right, y’know?”
Kate figured after ninety-plus years, a little memory lapse wasn’t such a terrible thing. “What do you remember about them?”
He shrugged. “Not too much. One was a lot older ’n t’other. Used to come round for the county fair every year and stay for a coupla weeks.” He smiled. “Lena was prouder ’n a rooster with shiny tail feathers when those girls got married. One of ’em had children. Don’t think t’ other ever did, though.”
So Emmaline might really have children. It wasn’t implausible, since Kate knew now that Emmaline had misled her about having a sister. On the other hand, the children could be the sister’s. The story about her sister’s hospital bracelets could have some element of the truth to it. But how much?
Kate already knew that Emmaline had once been married, but she still didn’t have a clue about what had happened to her husband.
Kate had already glimpsed flashes of sorrow in Emmaline’s eyes from time to time. Was the grief from the loss of a loved one? Otherwise, what had precipitated it?
She visited with Old Man Parsons for a while longer, letting him ramble about years past in Copper Mill. As he talked, she idly glanced at the headlines of the Philadelphia newspaper on top of the stack closest to her. The Eagles had lost in their play-off bid for the Super Bowl. A notoriously savvy congressman from the Pennsylvania House of Representatives had secured yet another major highway contract. A man was accused of insurance fraud. And an eighty-year-old man was training for a marathon.
Chuckling at the marathon headline, she asked Joshua if she might borrow the paper. Paul would enjoy that article.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Kate baked several loaves of bread for the Faith Freezer Program.
She had just removed the last pumpkin pie from the ancient oven and changed the temperature to better bake her apple pies when the telephone rang. “Hello?”
“Hello, Kate.” It was Emmaline. “Are you free any time this afternoon?”
Recalling Paul’s warning about maintaining boundaries, she said, “I’m sorry, Emmaline. I have a busy afternoon. I believe I mentioned that before. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine. But my sister, Francie, wants to meet you. I told her how kind you’ve been during my time here.”
Kate considered. She was having lunch with Livvy, after which she had a number of errands to run, but she was curious to meet Emmaline’s sister. “I could stop by around three thirty if you like. But I can’t stay long,” she warned.
Kate had barely set down the handset when the telephone rang again. “Hello?”
“Hey, Sherlock.”
Kate chuckled at Livvy’s greeting. “Hey, yourself! Are we still on for lunch?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I am swamped here. Could we possibly make it tomorrow instead?”
“Of course.” Kate thought fleetingly of changing the time of her visit with Emmaline. But after a moment’s consideration, she decided to keep it as they had left it. She had some cleaning to do, so she still wanted to keep the visit brief.
AFTER LUNCH AT HOME, Kate delivered her cooled loaves of bread to the Bixby house next door where the Faith Freezer Program was located, keeping one aside for Emmaline and Francie. She also ran to the bank and the pharmacy before she turned her car in the direction of Emmaline’s little white house. When she arrived, there was an SUV parked in the driveway, so she parked along the street.
She retrieved the bread from the seat next to her, then headed for the house. She wasn’t even halfway up the walk when the front door flew open.
“Kate!” cried Emmaline. “Hello, hello.”
Emmaline was neatly dressed in a pair of light blue trousers and a pretty matching sweater with a bluebird embroidered on the front. Her hair was styled and shining, and she had on a bit more makeup than Kate had seen her wear, but her eyes looked slightly panicked as Kate drew closer.
Before Kate could enter the house, Emmaline stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
Kate offered her the loaf of bread. “I just made this earlier today. I thought you would enjoy some. It’s cracked wheat bread.”
“Thank you.” Emmaline accepted the loaf. Then she leaned close and said, “Kate, I have to ask you a favor. Could you please not mention what happened at the Bristol to my sister?”
The request was startling. Kate had assumed that part of the reason the sister was coming was to lend support to Emmaline during a difficult time. Surely her sister would be the one person with whom Emmaline would be willing to share her troubles. But apparently, Emmaline was secretive even with her own kin.
On second thought, if Emmaline was indeed having psychological problems, she might have good reasons for not wanting her sister to know it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to your sister about what’s been happening?” Kate gently placed her hands over Emmaline’s as the woman gripped the loaf of bread Kate had handed her.
Emmaline’s eyes filled with tears. She nodded. “Please, Kate, don’t say anything.” She turned away and placed her hand on the doorknob as she said, “She would be so upset with me.”
At least, that’s what Kate thought she said. She had already turned away, and Kate still was standing behind her on the porch. Kate could imagine that Francie would be upset. She couldn’t imagine a sibling failing to share news of a serious illness with another, particularly one serious enough to land her in the hospital.
As Kate followed Emmaline into the house, another woman stepped forward. She was slightly taller than Emmaline, but with features and hair color similar enough that it was easy to tell that the two were sisters. She looked somewhat younger, although Kate couldn’t have guessed at an exact age.
“Hello,” the woman said. “I’m Francie Morlen.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Francie,” Kate said.
“You too. Em has told me how much you’ve done for her since she moved here. Thank you. I know it’s hard to settle into a new community, but I felt certain that once she met a few people, she would be fine.”
“Um, yes, that’s certainly true.” Kate was afraid of saying something that might let Emmaline’s secret slip out. The safest thing was to talk about herself, she decided, though normally that wouldn’t be her choice of topic. “We moved here not long ago when my husband, Paul, came to lead a church in Copper Mill, so we went through the whole new-kid-on-the-block syndrome too.”
“So your husband is a pastor?” Francie led the way to the living room while Emmaline went to the kitchen.
“Yes. He was with a large church in San Antonio for years, so this has been quite a change for us.”
Discreetly she studied Francie Morlen, wondering why on earth Emmaline wouldn’t want to confide in her sister. Francie wore an oatmeal-colored twinset that looked like cashmere to Kate, paired with fine wool trousers and trendy leather shoes that probably cost more than the contents of Faith Briar’s weekly offering plate.
“Is this sort of a retirement?” Francie asked.
“Not exactly,” Kate said. “Paul felt called in a different direction.”
“It is,” Kate agreed. “It’s been quite an adventure.”
Emmaline returned to the room with a tea tray after a few moments. It bore three cups of tea and a selection of cookies. The three women ate and drank as Kate shared the story of their dramatic arrival in Copper Mill at the very moment their new church was burning to the ground.
Both sisters were horrified. Emmaline said, “Why haven’t I heard this story before?”
Kate shrugged. “We always had other things to talk about.”
Emmaline’s gaze slid away from Kate’s as she said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” To her sister, she said, “Kate’s an artist too. She works in stained glass.”
“How interesting!” Francie smiled. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. I’ve always envied Em’s talent.”
For several minutes, the talk turned to art, and Kate began to relax. Kate thought of her conversation with Old Man Parsons. It was clear that Emmaline was the elder by some years. Possibly a decade. Was there any way to tactfully find out exactly how many years? Kate knew she was clever at figuring things out, but even she couldn’t find an appropriate way to mention a woman’s age!
Eventually, she said, “So, Francie, tell me about yourself. Are you also from Philadelphia?”
“I am,” she said. “I’m a Creative Memories consultant, and my husband is a lawyer. He has his own practice.”
“What a coincidence! My son is also a lawyer in Philadelphia. He practices real estate law. Perhaps they know each other.”
“Perhaps.” Did Kate imagine it, or did Francie’s jaw tighten just the slightest bit? Emmaline, oddly, almost seemed to shrink in her chair.
Kate said, “And Emmaline mentioned that you have children?” That led to a discussion of Francie’s three teen-age children, Emmaline’s nephew and nieces.
Since Kate also had a boy and two girls, she and Francie found quite a bit of common ground there, and before Kate knew it, the tea tray held nothing but crumbs.
Just as Kate was about to say she must go, an electronic melody began to play.
“Oops, that’s my phone. Excuse me,” said Francie. “I promised my children I would answer if they called.” She stood and headed for the stairs, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she went.
Emmaline stood also. “I just need to visit the restroom, Kate. I’ll be back in a moment.” She, too, went in the direction of the stairs.
Well, thought Kate, do I smell? She grinned to herself, deciding that she might as well begin clearing away the tea tray. It wasn’t as if she was a stranger to Emmaline’s kitchen.
Picking up the tray, she backed through the door that led to the kitchen and set it on the counter beside the sink. As she turned on the water, put some soap in the dishpan, and began washing the dishes, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
The footsteps approached, and Kate heard a voice. It was Francie, apparently still on the phone. Then the footsteps halted just outside the kitchen door. Kate turned the water on more forcefully, so there was less opportunity for the conversation to be overheard. But Francie’s voice carried, and Kate still could hear every word. She began to say something so that Francie would realize she wasn’t alone, but then Francie’s one-sided conversation became clear, and Kate closed her mouth.
“No, she hasn’t told anyone here, I’m almost positive...I don’t know if I should warn them or not. What do you think?”
So did Francie know that Emmaline’s television wasn’t tuned in to the same channel as most of the rest of the world’s? Was she referring to warning folks about Emmaline’s sudden illnesses, or was the warning about something else? It helped, somehow, to know that someone else recognized that Emmaline had problems.
“No, it’s very nice. She could live here permanently if you don’t want her to come back to live with us. But I don’t know where else she’d go. And she doesn’t want to stay here in Copper Mill...I know, honey. I’m not trying to push the decision off on you. But after all, you’re the one who was hurt most by what she did...Well, of course it impacted my life too...”
Kate nearly dropped the teacup she had just picked up. It sounded very much as if Emmaline’s sister, Francie, had a deciding role in whether Emmaline would return to Philadelphia. What could Emmaline possibly have done to make her own sister consider banishing her?
Kate plunged her hands into the dishwater just as the kitchen door swung open. Francie came into the kitchen. “Oh my goodness,” she exclaimed. “Here you’re a guest, and we put you to work.”
“Not a problem.” Kate smiled as Francie picked up a dishtowel and began to dry plates. Kate debated with herself for a moment, then realized she might never have a better chance to get the answer to her question.
“Would it be rude of me to ask you how far apart you and your sister are in age?” Kate asked.
Francie chuckled. “Only if you ask Em. I’m the younger by thirteen years.”
“Wow,” Kate said. “So she was a teenager when you were born.”
Francie nodded, her expression softening. “She was like my second mother. At least, she wanted to be. Our mother was very protective, and it seemed as if she spent a lot of time scolding Em for touching me or picking me up. By the time I was in school, Em had moved out, and we really didn’t have a lot of contact until after Mom passed away when I was fifteen. Then Em stepped back into my life.” She smiled. “For a while, we even lived next door to each other. Those were good days,” she added as her smile faded.
Francie’s sad expression nearly mirrored Emmaline’s, Kate realized. Although Kate didn’t sense the deep-seated loneliness that Emmaline seemed to wear like a second skin.
Just then, the door opened again.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Emmaline cried, rushing forward to take the dishcloth out of Kate’s hands. “Here you are again, working. That just won’t do, Kate.” Emmaline babbled on and on in an animated tone about how happy she was to have two of her favorite people in one room.
It was too much for Kate. After the way Emmaline had behaved with Livvy and Paul, she was distinctly uncomfortable with being one of Emmaline’s favorite people. She backed away and began to dry her hands.
“Em, I haven’t had a chance to ask you how you’ve been feeling,” Francie said, turning to her sister.
“I’ve been fine,” Emmaline said abruptly. “And you don’t have to worry. I’m perfectly well.” She didn’t look at Kate as she said this.
Kate stayed silent. What was going on here? Emmaline had not been perfectly well by any means. It was becoming clear that, as Kate had suspected earlier, Emmaline was indeed lying, either to her sister or to Kate. Kate suspected both. She intended to figure out exactly what the lie was, but the bigger question was why Emmaline was lying.
Was it simply embarrassment or shame? Kate could almost understand if this were the reason. But she strongly suspected something altogether different was going on.
Chapter Thirteen
At ten thirty on Saturday morning, Kate changed into a pair of silky olive pants and a warm beige twinset. She was meeting Livvy for lunch after doing some Internet research at the library, and she enjoyed the chance to put on a pretty outfit even though she and Livvy weren’t going anyplace that required a particularly nice dress code.
After fastening on a beaded necklace, Kate slipped into a pair of comfortable beige pumps and transferred the contents of her handbag into one that matched the pumps. Then she headed for the library.
Livvy was busy. Kate slipped by her with a wink and a wave and went straight upstairs to the computers.
Quickly, she slid into one of the few empty seats and opened an Internet browser. Although she had done a search on “Emmaline Ashford” at home last week, she wanted to try it again on the faster, more powerful computers in case a link showed up that she had
n’t seen before. And this time, she was going to try more specific sites.
First, she brought up the home page of the Philadelphia Inquirer. With Livvy’s library code, she was able to gain access to the entire paper. She typed “Emmaline Ashford” into the search box and hit Enter.
A moment later, she saw she had gotten no results.
There were a few other options. She also searched on the Daily News and the Philadelphia Inquirer, both of which featured local news. But she found no news about one Emmaline Ashford. On a hunch, Kate ran a search for “Emmaline Ash,” but she came up with the same results.
She sighed. She’d have to try being less specific. This time, she just searched for “Ashford” on the Inquirer site. If Emmaline’s husband had indeed passed away, perhaps his obituary would be listed. Or perhaps she would get lucky, and something would have been posted recently about one of Emmaline’s articles.
A few minutes later, she came up empty yet again. It was as if Emmaline didn’t exist. Not a single mention at all, even for just “Ashford.” It was hard to believe there were no Ashfords in Philadelphia. Perhaps they were all quiet and unnewsworthy people.
Sighing again, she gave up. It was time to meet Livvy for lunch, anyway.
Kate was just closing the Internet connection when she heard her name called. She turned to see Livvy walking toward her. Her sedate navy suit and accessories made her look every inch the librarian, particularly when one noticed the glasses pushed haphazardly atop her head and the pencil she’d obviously forgotten she’d tucked behind one ear.
Kate greeted her, then reached out and gently removed the pencil. “Here.”
Livvy rolled her eyes, accepting the writing instrument and stashing it in her handbag. “Sheesh. You can’t take me anywhere, can you?”
Kate laughed. “Ready to eat?”
“Famished!” Livvy tugged open the door and motioned to Kate to precede her.
They walked the short distance to the diner. Kate shared her excitement over the impending visit from Andrew and his family the very next day.
How the Heart Runs Page 13
