by Traci DePree
Somehow those words didn’t irk her as they would have a few short weeks ago. She’d seen loving compassion in the people of Copper Mill firsthand. And somehow, in that compassion she felt God’s care for her. She supposed that as much as she had underestimated Marissa’s ability to forgive her, she’d done the same with God.
A moment of silence passed between them. Patricia started to speak, then hesitated before she finally said, “Pastor?”
Paul’s blue eyes were filled with kindness. “Yes?”
“Would you mind praying for us?”
LATER THAT MORNING a whole bunch of visitors started coming and going. Whether LuAnne Matthews had been the one to alert them or Pastor Hanlon or both, Patricia didn’t know, but Marissa was enjoying the attention. And to Patricia’s surprise, she was glad for the company too.
At ten thirty, LuAnne Matthews arrived, having scrubbed and gowned. “Hi-ho,” she said as she came in. “How are you kids doin’?”
The redheaded waitress set a plastic bag on Marissa’s bed and proceeded to lay out a full meal on Marissa’s tray, including hot soup, canned peaches, a salad, and a dinner roll.
“I brought you some good food from the Country Diner,” she whispered. “Hospital food is for the birds!”
In the first container was a steaming batch of chicken and dumplings; its scent of thyme and pepper filled the room. Marissa looked hungrily at the feast before her.
“She can have the hot food and peaches,” Patricia instructed, “but the doctor said she can’t have anything that might carry germs.”
LuAnne pulled the salad and roll off the tray and winked at the girl.
When it was all ready, Marissa lifted her plastic fork and tasted the dumplings. She closed her eyes in rapture. “This is wonderful!” she said. “You’re right, LuAnne. Hospital food is for the birds.” Then she dug in, a smile on her face. Patricia watched, grateful for the moment, and LuAnne said, “She’ll gain her strength real quick if she keeps eatin’ like this.”
Several minutes later, Marissa sat back with an expression of satisfaction on her pale face. “That was very thoughtful of you, LuAnne. Thank you.”
The plump waitress shrugged. “It would’ve just gone to waste sittin’ around at the diner! You’ll let me know if there’s anything else you have a hankerin’ for, won’t you? I can sneak food out without a problem.” She winked at Marissa again, and the girl giggled.
“I better get back to work,” LuAnne said, looking at her watch. “The lunch crowd will be coming in soon. You know how crabby people can get if they have to wait for their meal!”
She waved good-bye and left.
At around noon Renee Lambert arrived. The older woman came bustling into the quiet of the hospital room. She was all made up as if she were on her way to a formal event—full makeup and false eyelashes, and an icy pink dress with matching nail polish and shoes.
“I heard on the prayer chain that you were here,” Renee announced. Then she asked Patricia, “Do you remember me?”
Patricia knew the woman only slightly when she was a teenager. Renee had been an acquaintance of her mother’s from the Rotary Club. Patricia smiled and walked over to the counter to retrieve a mask, which she handed to Renee.
Renee raised an eyebrow at it, then gingerly slipped it over her head, trying not to disturb her neatly coiffed hair. “I tried to sneak Kisses in,” Renee admitted as she settled the mask into place. “He’s my Chihuahua. But that mean nurse made me take him back to my car! They have rules about no animals. I think it’s pathetic, if you ask me. What’s more comforting than a snuggle with a little umpkins?”
“That was very nice of you,” Marissa said. “What was your name?”
“Oh dear. I assumed that since your mom knew me, you would too. I’m Renee Lambert. I go to Faith Briar Church...” She paused, then said, “I heard about how poorly you were feeling. But I want you to know that we’re all thinking of you and praying for you.”
Renee stayed for over half an hour before excusing herself and offering to come back the next day. Patricia didn’t know what to say to the woman. She thought of her initial reaction when Kate Hanlon had started visiting, yet that had turned into a good thing. Who knew? Maybe even visits with an elderly drama queen could bring joy into their lives. So she said, “That would be nice, Renee. Marissa usually gets sleepy a little before supper, so if you could come around the same time...?”
“I’ll plan on it,” Renee said with a big smile.
A few minutes later, yet another visitor dropped by to see Marissa—Betty Anderson from Betty’s Beauty Parlor. She had been their regular hairdresser for several years, so when she poked her bleached-blond surgical-capped head into the room, Patricia waved her right in. She too wore a gown, mask and gloves.
“Hey,” Betty said. “I thought you two could use a visitor.”
“You don’t have a dog in your purse, do you?” Marissa asked with a laugh.
Betty wrinkled her brow, then winked at Marissa. “Now why would I have a dog in my purse?” She bent over to kiss Patricia on the cheek, then leaned back to look at her as she put back on the mandatory surgical mask. “You look awful!”
“Thanks!” Patricia said.
“I just mean that you look like you need to get some rest,” Betty explained. She glanced down at her hands. “And a manicure wouldn’t be a bad idea either!”
“She’s right,” Marissa said. “You do need to take better care of yourself, Mom.”
“I’m just fine,” Patricia said.
“Well...” Betty went on, this time to Marissa as she reached into the large tote that was tucked under her arm. “I came with an idea for you, young lady.” She withdrew a makeup bag. “How about a little dolling up?”
Marissa touched her face, which hadn’t seen makeup in ages, and then the flowered scarf that was tied around her bald head. “I doubt it would make a difference.”
“At least let me try. I guarantee a little pampering will make you feel like a brand-new girl.”
Marissa nodded and sat forward on the bed, tugging the IV stand, whose tube was attached to her arm, out of the way so Betty could sit next to her.
Betty pulled out a wig from another bag she’d set on the floor. “Want to try it on?” she asked.
Marissa smiled weakly and Betty nodded. “You’re right. Now’s your chance to go blond,” she said, pulling a long blond wig out of the bag.
Marissa laughed and shook her head. “I’m not really a wig kind of person,” she said.
Betty shook her head, pulling out a third wig, this one with short red hair. “You sure?”
Marissa nodded.
“I thought that might be the case,” Betty said, “so I brought you a couple of new scarves.” She pulled out two new head scarves, both in pretty, vibrant shades—one in blues and greens, the other in reds and oranges. “Can I?”
Marissa smiled and leaned forward as Betty removed the scarf she was wearing and wrapped one of the new scarves around her head, fastening it with a butterfly-shaped pin.
Then she handed Marissa a mirror. “What do you think?”
Marissa gazed at herself, turning her head one way and then another. She handed the mirror back to Betty and said, “I look like a new woman. Thank you, Mrs. Anderson.”
Marissa smiled gratefully, but Patricia could see the weariness etched in the corners of her daughter’s eyes It had been a long day, and while she was grateful for the kindness that everyone had shown, she also knew Marissa needed to rest. She moved to Marissa’s bedside and helped the girl lie back as Betty gathered her makeup supplies.
“This was so thoughtful of you,” Patricia said to Betty.
Betty’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I didn’t do anything. Really.” She glanced at Marissa, whose eyes had already closed in sleep. “Take care of her, okay? And take care of yourself too.” She met Patricia’s gaze. “That’s an order.”
When Betty finally left, Patricia sat back in the recline
r and closed her eyes. Marissa slept with a contented expression on her face.
“You need to go home and sleep, Mom,” she said later that evening when she roused. “Betty was right about that.”
Patricia opened her mouth to protest, but Marissa interrupted her. “You won’t be any good to me exhausted and sick. I mean it. I’ll be fine. Go home and sleep.”
Patricia finally agreed, and Marissa closed her eyes and was soon breathing in a deep rhythm of sleep.
Patricia had thought the world had deserted them, and yet today it had been made irrefutably clear to her that she wasn’t alone. Even though Ray was gone, life didn’t need to end for her. And as long as Marissa was alive, she would fight for her and pray, because she was beginning to see the power in that act. That sensation was something she didn’t want to let go of.
Her thoughts turned to Kate’s trip to Nashville to find Valerie. Her stomach fluttered, both in nervousness and excitement with the possibilities that that discovery could bring. To have both of her daughters together, and to have Marissa healed of this horrible nightmare, would be beyond her wildest dreams.
Chapter Sixteen
Kate rang the apartment buzzer in the tall downtown Nashville building. After driving what seemed like an eternity, she’d finally located the address in the maze of streets. Her heart pounded in her chest with the hope that she’d finally meet Valerie.
“Yes?” A man with stringy blond hair, who looked to be in his late twenties, answered the door. He wore a green and gold knit cap with a bill. It looked like something she’d seen Bob Marley wear on TV. The young man’s teeth were so crooked that Kate had to fight to keep from staring at them.
“I’m looking for a Valerie Olsen,” Kate said. She held up the picture that the elderly man had given her in Chattanooga. “According to my information, she lived...or lives...here?”
“No Valerie Olsen here,” he said. He started to close the door, then added, “You might want to check with the super. He lives downstairs in the first apartment.”
Kate’s frustration bubbled up. How many dead ends would she have to hit before the road went somewhere? She made her way to the downstairs apartment. The elderly woman who answered hardly looked the part of an apartment superintendent. She was a petite woman, no more than four feet ten inches tall, with white hair in a straight bob that gave her a youthful appearance.
“Now, who was it you were looking for?” she asked, obviously confused by Kate’s appearance at her door.
“The super?” Kate said.
“Oh, my husband’s the super,” she explained. “He’s out right now.”
“I’m actually looking for someone who used to live here. I’m not exactly sure when, although I’m fairly certain it was within the last two years...”
“We’ve lived in this building for fifteen years.” The woman leaned to get a better look at the photo Kate held out.
Kate repeated the name as the woman gazed at the picture.
“I remember Valerie,” she finally said, nodding her head. “Nice girl. Pretty. They moved not too long ago. I think I have a forwarding address somewhere in here.” She motioned for Kate to come inside, then scurried to a file cabinet that was tucked in a corner of the dining room. Kate stood at the door and watched as the woman rustled through the papers. When she returned, she had a sheet of paper in her hand. “Here it is. They’re in Memphis. I recall the mother saying she’d gotten a job there, now that I think about it. I think the daughter went with her. It was just the two of them, you know.”
Kate nodded her head. “I’m aware of that...May I?” She reached for the sheet of paper and copied the address into a small notebook she kept in her purse. Then she thanked the woman and made her way back to her car.
Memphis was in the southeast corner of the state, a good three-hour drive away. Kate dreaded the long drive alone, especially if she got there only to come up empty again.
Deciding she needed to do a little more research before making the long drive, she stopped a young woman on the sidewalk and asked where the public library was. She quickly copied down the directions and wound her way to the regal-looking building on Church Street. Quickly moving to the checkout desk, she signed out a computer and found her way to an empty station. Kate gazed around the quiet sanctuary as other patrons perused periodicals and browsed the biographies section.
When the screen saver faded away and the desktop came to life, Kate connected to the Internet. Searching the online Yellow Pages for “Memphis” and “Valerie Olsen,” she hit the Go button, but no matches came up. Next she tried “Mary Olsen.” This time a phone number popped onto the screen. Kate keyed the number into her cell phone so she could call it once she was back out in the car. She clicked on a few more links to see whether any other Mary Olsens lived in the area. There weren’t any, so she decided it must be the right number and closed the search window. If it was a dead end, she could always come back in and try again.
When she was back in the car, she hit the Talk button and waited for someone to pick up. She was just about to hang up when a female voice came on the line. “Hello?” the woman said.
Kate cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m looking for a Mary Olsen?”
“This is Mary Olsen.”
“Are you the mother of Valerie Olsen?”
“Yes...”
Kate’s heart pounded out a beat even as she ran out of words to say. She fumbled, then began, “My name is Kate Hanlon. I’ve been looking for Valerie...on behalf of her birth mother.” She paused, bracing herself for the woman’s reaction.
The phone was silent. “Mrs. Olsen?” Kate said.
“Wow,” the woman finally said. “I guess I thought this day might come, but I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely prepared for it.”
“I’d like to meet you if that’s okay,” Kate said. “Rather than talk over the phone.” A pickup and a car-hauling semi passed on the busy street.
“You’re not her birth mother, then?”
“No,” Kate said. “I’m just a friend.” She watched through the windshield as a slew of pedestrians crossed at the next crosswalk.
“Okay...When would you like to meet?”
“Tomorrow?” Kate said. “I’m in Nashville right now, so it’ll take me a few hours to get there.”
“Tomorrow is good,” Mary said. “Wednesday is my day off, actually, so I’ll expect you around...?”
“Let’s make it one o’clock?”
“One o’clock at my house, it is.”
TWO REPRESENTATIVES from the How Now Dog Chow Company from Pine Ridge arrived at the Hanlon’s house the next morning. It was a warm day for the end of February. The judges wore stiff-looking dark suits. Paul half expected them to put on their Ray-Ban sunglasses and talk into hidden microphones in their neckties.
“Welcome to Copper Mill.” Paul held out a hand to the men, who looked at it as if it were a cobra.
“Okay, then,” Paul said under his breath. He stood aside so they could come inside, then led them to the dining room. “I’m glad you came.”
“So, remind me, what is this all about, Mr. Hanlon?” the taller one asked. “I know we talked on the phone, but it seemed a bit peculiar.” He had almost-black hair with a mustache and goatee, and when he said “Mr. Hanlon,” Paul thought he could detect a bit of an accent in his tone.
“Both of the brothers say the dog is theirs. They aren’t willing to share the prize, apparently. That’s why we asked you to come. We needed someone impartial to decide. All we’re asking is that you watch our contest and together decide who the rightful owner of the dog is—”
“And therefore who gets the prize and the ad spread,” the shorter, blond one finished for him.
Paul nodded. “Basically.”
“So, what does your contest entail?” the tall one asked as he folded his hands together.
Paul pointed through the dining-room window to the backyard, where he’d set up their course. “It’s a good thing the snow m
elted,” he said. “I thought we’d start with some basic commands—sit, roll over, stay—and have each of the brothers run the dog through that. There’s also a tire swing to jump through, a balance beam, cones for her to zigzag through...”
“Impressive,” the taller man said, nodding his head as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest.
The doorbell sounded, so Paul went to answer it. Aunt Susan was there, a broad smile on her round face as she held Scout in her arms. She’d dressed the cocker spaniel in a Tartan-plaid doggie coat with a matching hood.
“Hi there, Pastor Hanlon,” she said. “Here’s Scout for her little contest.” She brought the dog inside and set her carefully on the doormat, wiping each of her paws with some diaper wipes from her purse. “Don’t want her to track all over the place,” Susan explained.
“I appreciate that, Miss Wilson,” Paul said.
Susan started to take off her coat, but Paul motioned for her to keep it on. “The contest will be outside,” he informed, “so you’ll want to keep your coat on.”
“Outside, you say?” She rubbed her hands together. “This ought to be fun.”
The dog took off toward the back of the house, with Susan following behind, just as Jack and Carl arrived in separate cars. Paul could hear the dog howling, no doubt at the “secret agents” in the dining room.
Jack parked his restored ’76 Ford Maverick while Carl climbed out of his Toyota Corolla and made his way toward Paul. Eli had called earlier, explaining that he was too busy at the antiques store to get away, so he wouldn’t be there for the big event.
Paul wished his friend could have been here. He could use his perspective in figuring out how to navigate the waters with these brothers. He offered a prayer for wisdom to heaven, but it was still overcast.
“Good morning,” Paul called to Carl, who waved back.
Jack walked with his head down, offering a “Let’s get this over with” expression when he reached Paul.
When they were all in the dining room and introductions had been made, Paul went over the ground rules, which were basically what he’d told the dog-food representatives earlier, including that both brothers had to abide by the judges’ decision, whichever way it went. Scout wove through their feet in a hyper circle.
