Wallpaper with Roses

by Jenny Andersen

  “Always making sure we were safe. Seems like forever ago.”

  ****

  “Before we end the services today,” said the Reverend Mr. Dobbs, “I’d like to tell you about the wonderful and selfless actions of a member of this congregation.”

  Sarah sighed and settled back in her pew. Mr. Dobbs was a wonderful man, but he could get just a touch long-winded. Her mother and Violet listened raptly however, so she couldn’t be impatient.

  “Some of us have criticized this young woman in the past for sporadic attendance here, but her actions prove that she has a true Christian heart, and I think you’ll all agree with me when you hear what she’s done.

  “This young woman has, without complaint, given up her home and many of her own activities in order to look after an aging parent. In today’s busy, overly busy, in my opinion, life, that is really taking the fourth commandment to heart.”

  Sarah swallowed a yawn and gave up the effort of following Mr. Dobbs’s syntax. It was wonderful that she wasn’t the only person in town willing to make sacrifices for her family, but she had a lot of laundry to get done this afternoon, and it wouldn’t hurt to do a little cleaning, although goodness knew her mother and Violet were tidy and clean enough, and...

  She reined in her wandering mind and concentrated on Mr. Dobbs again.

  “...not satisfied with caring for her own parent, she’s provided a home for an older friend in need, and now has taken in a young woman who is barely out of childhood and in desperate need of a Good Samaritan.”

  Good Lord. Could he mean her? Sarah squirmed. The last thing she wanted was attention drawn to the possible illegality of having Violet share the house. And she truly, deeply hoped that Christine really was over eighteen. The potential problems there made her shudder.

  “Yes, this woman has set a standard for generosity and Christian behavior that we would all do well to live up to.” Mr. Dobbs looked around at his audience with an encouraging smile. “Let us pray for guidance to help us do just that.” He bowed his head. “Heavenly Father...”

  Slumping down enough to hide behind her mother would only attract attention, Sarah knew. But holy cow, how she wanted to. From the heat in her face, she was sure she was ninety-seven shades of red. If she didn’t get that under control, no one would have any doubts figuring out just exactly who Mr. Dobbs had been talking about.

  “Isn’t that wonderful, dear? How charming of Mr. Dobbs to honor you so,” her mother said while they waited for the aisle to clear.

  “Oh, yes, it was,” Violet added. “But Hilda, he should have given you some credit, too. I’m going to tell him so. Not that I mean to take credit away from you, Sarah, dear. You know that. I know that I make so much extra work for you, and I’m deeply appreciative.”

  “You really are no trouble at all, Violet,” Sarah lied. “Where’s Rob today?” The minute the words were out of her mouth she wanted to kick herself. Maybe Violet wouldn’t notice?

  Violet giggled. “That’s an interesting train of thought, dear. Do you think of Rob as trouble?”

  She looked so hopeful that Sarah almost said yes. “Look, the aisle is clear. We can go now,” she said instead.

  “You don’t seem at all happy. What’s wrong, dear?” Hilda edged into the aisle and unfolded the walker that had become a constant companion again.

  “Let me help, Mama.” Sarah made sure the locks engaged so the walker wouldn’t fold up in mid stride. “Remember. Small steps,” she cautioned, and sighed when Hilda pushed the walker far out in front of her where it wouldn’t be any help at all in case of a slip.

  “Sarah, my dear,” Mr. Dobbs said when she reached the doorway where he stood shaking hands with his congregation. “I hope you don’t mind that I shared a bit of your story today. You should be very proud of your actions. As I said, you are showing the true spirit of Christianity in action. You are an example to us all, and...”

  Sarah’s frustration mounted as he droned on and on and on, reprising the entire little homily he’d just given. Suppressing the urge to scream, she peered past him to make sure that Violet was with Hilda, although what she’d do in case of a fall was open to question.

  No Violet in sight. To her surprise, her mother and Homer Macklin stood in the shade of a hydrangea bush, talking. How nice to see something other than disapproval on his face for once. She looked at her mother and smiled. The velvety lavender flowers were the perfect backdrop for Hilda’s soft lilac dress and fragile, silvery beauty.

  Nothing was a perfect backdrop for the thunderous expression on Macklin’s face.

  Hilda had disappeared by the time Mr. Dobbs finally stopped talking. Sarah went in search of her and found her with Violet in the Friendship Room, enjoying gossip and cookies.

  While Sarah stood in line for a cup of coffee, Mr. Dobbs came into the room and began reprising Sarah’s good deeds to two women standing near the door. Sarah sighed and wondered how long he’d keep this up. When she turned away from the coffee urn, she had an uncomfortable sense of being watched. She looked up, and through the door saw the pinched features of Homer Macklin. He stood not five feet away, listening intently to Mr. Dobbs and staring at her.

  His expression made her heart sink.

  Chapter 9

  “No good deed goes unpunished,” she told Beth that afternoon as she pegged sheets onto the backyard clothesline.

  Beth handed her another clothespin. “Macklin. I didn’t even know he went to church. It’s hard to believe.”

  “That’s my cue to say something about how we don’t know what stresses he has in his life, and we should be more forgiving, or something like that.”

  “So are you going to do it?”

  “I don’t think so. I just know the little weasel is going to make trouble for me over this.”

  “But are you doing anything illegal?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t want to know.” Sarah grimaced. “Probably. What isn’t illegal these days?”

  She picked up the empty laundry basket and headed for the house. Beth followed.

  Christine came down the back stairs just as they got to the kitchen. “Oh, Sarah. I would have done that. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because you were busy upstairs?” Sarah said. “Look, Christine. You are not required to do all of the work in this house. Trust me, there’s plenty to go around.”

  “Yes, but I should be helping.”

  “You should be concentrating on making a healthy baby,” Beth said. “I don’t think anyone would argue that that’s your job right now.”

  “I agree,” said Sarah. “Besides, if you start doing everything now, you’ll have me spoiled by the time the baby arrives.”

  “I’ll still be able to do lots of work.”

  “Less than you think,” Sarah told her. “You’re going to be busier than you believe possible now, and I don’t think my mother and Violet are going to be helping with the two A.M. feedings.”

  Christine drew herself up to her full five foot two. “Of course not. Anyway, I’m going to be nursing, so no one can help. Breast milk is very important for a baby, and this kid is going to need all the help he can get, given what his father is like.”

  Not much Sarah could say to that. She exchanged a glance with Beth over Christine’s head. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “You seem to know a lot about child care already.”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse. I’ve read a lot, and once...” The look on her face said it had been a lifetime ago. “Once I was a candy-striper, and I’ve taken a lot of first aid and child care courses.”

  “Well,” Sarah said, taken aback both by the Christine’s competence and vehemence. “I guess we hit the jackpot when my mother asked you to move in.”

  Christine slanted her a look out of the corner of her eye. “I guess you didn’t much want me here.”

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” Sarah admitted. “But it seems to be working out fine. Are you happy here?”

  “Are you crazy? Of
course I’m happy here. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Except...” She paused and studied the toes of her shoes.

  Sarah followed her gaze and saw the hole in one toe, and the loose sole. “Except?”

  Christine didn’t meet her gaze. “I think Violet is going to be pretty unhappy when the baby is born. She keeps saying she doesn’t like children.”

  Sarah laughed. “Don’t sweat that one, honey. Violet’s a sucker for babies. She just had some miserable neighbors before she moved here. Everything will be fine the minute she sees the kid. You’ll see.”

  “Gosh, I hope so.” Christine studied her toes again. “After the baby’s born, I’ll get a job. Then I can pay my own way here, like Violet. And maybe someday I can go back to school.”

  Sarah smiled. “That’s a great idea.”

  “I can take nursing classes at the junior college here. And train at the hospital. And there are scholarships. I checked.”

  Well. Ambition. “That’s great. I’m really proud of you, Christine.”

  “Thanks.” Christine blushed. “I wanted to ask you about that guy in church this morning. That little skinny, shriveled-up looking one that was talking to your mom when you were talking to the minister afterwards. He was standing outside the Friendship Room, just staring at you.”

  “Homer Macklin,” Sarah said.

  “Why was he looking at you like that? Is he gonna make trouble?”

  Sarah and Beth exchanged glances.

  Sarah sighed. “If he can, yeah, probably. He’s my boss, and he’s always coming down on me at work. But even if he knows you and Violet live here, what’s he going to do? Violet’s ‘sharing expenses,’ so the zoning board can’t get me for renting out rooms. And it won’t do him any good to report me to the IRS, ’cause I’ll declare everything. I don’t think there’s anything he can do, really.” Besides cause her more worry and work. “But he’ll probably try.”

  “Oh,” Christine said in a tiny voice. She looked everywhere except at Sarah. “That’s not good.”

  Sarah’s heart jumped. “Is there something about you that I need to know? Some way Macklin will cause trouble because of you?”

  Christine didn’t answer and Sarah’s panic level rose. “Christine?”

  “Not your boss. My dad.” It was so soft it was almost a whisper. Sarah and Beth leaned closer. “If he finds me, he’ll make trouble.”

  Sarah thumped into one of the chairs around the kitchen table. “Christine. How. Old. Are. You?”

  Christine whirled to face here. “Eighteen. Really. I haven’t lied to you or your mother, Sarah. Honest.”

  Yeah. Well, maybe, but she surely hadn’t heard the whole story, that was for sure. “So what kind of trouble can he make? And why are you so afraid he’ll find you?

  Christine shivered. “He’s just...used to getting his own way. He shouts a lot and he’d probably get the police out here. He lies. And people believe him.”

  And that was far from the whole story. “He might have a little more trouble with the police in Crowley Falls than he’s used to. They all know us, and have for years. They’re not going to believe a lot of lies.”

  “That’s good.” Christine’s voice was back to the whisper. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Of course not. As long as you’re not under eighteen, we can deal with whatever happens,” Sarah said.

  And hoped like hell that she was right.

  ****

  Sarah went to work the next day with a heavier heart and more trepidation than usual for a Monday morning. Mr. Macklin wasn’t at the door, so she managed to get to her own office undetected.

  At eleven, she’d gotten through all of the most urgent tasks and decided to try the Fleider account again. She knew there was something wrong there, just knew it in her bones. She started on the inventory lists.

  “Sarah, come on,” Beth said from the door. “It’s lunchtime. You can finish whatever you’re doing later. Even Macklin doesn’t dare object to a lunch hour. Lunch half hour, that is.”

  Sarah laughed at Beth’s disgruntled tone and got up. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.” But even as she followed Beth down the hall to the lunch room, she was thinking about the Fleider account. She’d really like to figure out what was wrong there. Maybe that would get her the raise she needed so badly.

  She spent the afternoon in a maze of order and inventory sheets, with more to come in the morning because she hadn’t figured it out by quitting time. All the way home, numbers danced in her head. Tomorrow she’d have the answer, she knew it.

  When she turned the corner and saw the police cars in front of the house, her heart almost stopped and Mrs. Fleider’s problems were forgotten. She started running and made it down the block in record time.

  Violet and her mother sat on the porch with Brent and George. Oh God. It must be something awful to have gotten the chief of police out on a call. But they were drinking iced tea, just as though this were an afternoon social visit.

  “What happened?” she panted. “Are you all right, Mama?” She looked around. “Violet? Where’s Christine? What happened?”

  “Calm down, honey,” George said. “Everyone’s just fine.”

  Just then, Christine came through the door, followed by Hank with a pitcher of tea. “Oh, Sarah,” she said. “Let me get you a glass.”

  “I’ll get it, Christine,” Hank said, setting the pitcher on a small table.

  Sarah sank into a chair. “What happened?” she asked in her steeliest tone.

  “It was Charley,” Christine said.

  Hank returned and handed a full glass to Sarah.

  “He came back.”

  Charley? “Your—”

  Christine nodded. “Boyfriend,” she said, and then amended the statement with a sidelong glance at Hank. “Ex-boyfriend.”

  Oh boy. That was one Sarah hadn’t expected. She leaned back and swallowed blissfully cold, sweet tea. Now that she was calmer, she realized that she recognized his old junker parked at the curb. But Charley was nowhere in evidence. “Where is he?”

  “Jail,” Violet said with evident satisfaction. “Some of Brent’s friends took him off to jail, which he certainly, certainly deserves. Doesn’t he dear?” she concluded, looking at Brent.

  He nodded.

  “And Violet’s a heroine again, Sarah,” George said. “She had that good-for-nothing on the run like a mangy coyote by the time Brent and the boys got here.

  Sarah glanced at Brent to see how he liked having his officers referred to as ‘the boys.’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “So Violet was just about to tell us what happened,” George said. “Hilda was upstairs taking a nap, and Violet, you had just gone up to do the same, and Christine was in the kitchen, making some cookies for tea. Then what?”

  Brent leaned forward and flipped on a small recorder.

  George frowned. “This isn’t an interrogation, Henderson,” he said.

  “It’s always a good idea when it’s Aunt Violet, sir,” Brent replied.

  “Oh, and I don’t mind at all, George,” Violet twittered. “It’s just like being on the radio. I always wanted to do that.” She patted Brent’s arm and smiled. “Isn’t it a lovely day for a tea party, dear?”

  “Yes, Aunt Violet. But you were going to tell us about Charley’s visit.”

  “I don’t know anyone named Charley,” Violet said, frowning.

  “My ex-boyfriend, Miss Violet,” Christine said. “You know, the one you—”

  “Let her tell it,” George interrupted. “No leading the witness.”

  “Oh, him,” Violet said with an air of relief. “Of course, George. You should have asked.”

  Sarah met Brent’s gaze and crossed her eyes. He smothered a snort.

  “Well, I had just gone upstairs to take a nap,” Violet said. “Hilda was already asleep in her room. I had just taken off my sweater, and thank goodness I still had my shoes on, it must have been some kind of psychic foresight because
I usually take my shoes off first, but then, anyway, my little brown ladies clustered around me and they were so upset that I thought I’d better see what all the fuss was.”

  Sarah closed her eyes. This was the first she’d ever heard about little brown ladies, but somehow it didn’t seem all that much of a stretch for Violet to have an imaginary cadre in the house.

  “They were so excited they weren’t even making sense, and one of them actually pushed me toward the door, and another was tugging on my hand, and I’d never seen them so agitated. So I let them lead me out in the hall, and they wouldn’t let me use the elevator. They kept miming hush.” Violet demonstrated a finger to her lips. “And they almost pushed me down the stairs.”

  Sarah looked at her mother and shook her head. Hilda was listening with every indication of interest and, possibly, belief. George’s expression was a priceless mixture of oh-my-God and get-me-out-of-here.

  “When I got downstairs, I could hear this sort of hushed yelling coming from the kitchen, like someone was really angry but didn’t want to make much noise. And it certainly didn’t sound like Christine, so I tiptoed down the hall. The ladies stopped me in the dining room and pointed to the skillet I’d left there this morning.”

  That sounded like Violet, all right. Sarah spent more time picking up and putting away than the mother of three toddlers.

  “So I picked it up and went in to the kitchen, and there was that dreadful person twisting Christine’s arm and yelling at her.”

  Sarah identified the strange noise she heard as Hank grinding his teeth.

  “Well! Just as I came in, he pushed her down, and his back was to me, so I just hit him on the head with the frying pan. Thank goodness it was one of the cast iron ones. And then I called you, and that’s what happened.” Violet sat back with a satisfied air and gazed at her stunned audience.

  “Does the term ‘loose cannon’ come to mind?” Sarah murmured to Brent.

  “At least once a day,” he replied. “Man, Rob is gonna be pissed when he hears about this.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Reno. Went to pick up a big order of wood and stuff. It’s only a couple of hours each way. A lot faster than having it shipped. He’ll be back tonight.”