by Susan Breen
Agnes still said nothing, but Helen began to laugh.
“An ethical private detective agency. Oh my God, Maggie Dove, now I’ve heard everything.”
Chapter 39
The coven meeting was days away. Maggie needed to prepare for her Sunday School class, but felt jumpy. Restless. She kept pacing around, and without fail, every time she stood up she stepped on Kosi’s tail. She was beginning to think that some force was leading her to hurt the cat, and it bothered her. They were caught in a cycle of pain, both of them aggrieved with the other. There had to be a way to break the cycle.
Maybe Kosi needed a treat.
She called Helen. “I’m thinking of going to the pet store. Do you think Edgar would like to come?”
“Please, please, please,” she said.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The pet store was a wonderland. They were having a rescue-cat adoption afternoon, featuring tons of cats, all of whom looked much more friendly than Kosi. Maggie and Edgar watched a dog trainer with a bunch of puppies and both found they wanted to adopt a golden retriever, but Maggie, as the responsible one, felt they should hold off. For a bit. Then they went to look at the lizards. Edgar immediately bonded with a gecko. The nice salesperson said he could have it for only $20. Maggie called Helen and asked her what she thought.
“Thank God it’s just a lizard,” she said. “I thought he’d bring home a golden retriever.”
As they waited for the lizard to be packed up, Maggie heard a distinctive voice and turned to see Reverend Sunday admiring one of the iguanas in a cage. Reverend Sunday wore a gray sweater and gray slacks, a sort of casual version of her usual outfit. She seemed a beacon of calm in the middle of the insanity that was the pet store on a Saturday afternoon.
“Hello,” she said when she saw Maggie and Edgar. “I like to come here when I’m feeling homesick for Ghana. I look at some of these little fellows and they remind me of what I used to see on my lawn.”
“You had things like this at your house?” Edgar asked in awe.
“Yes, but much bigger,” she said. “There were also pythons and cobras and the black mamba, which is the most venomous snake in Africa.”
“Didn’t they attack you?”
“No, we left them alone and they left us alone. Are you ready for tomorrow night?” she asked Maggie.
“Yes, I’ve got the limousine ready.”
“No trouble?” the reverend asked, though from the way she raised her eyebrow, Maggie suspected she knew exactly how much trouble there was. Furthermore, Maggie suspected she picked this restaurant for the exact purpose of making trouble. She was staking a claim to who she was. Maggie had just done something similar, she supposed, in standing up for Racine.
“What brings you here?” Reverend Sunday asked.
“I’m getting a gecko,” Edgar shouted, “and Maggie Dove needs to get a present for her cat because she hates him.”
“You hate your cat?”
“I wouldn’t use the word ‘hate,’ ” Maggie said, drawing Edgar to her. She would have put her hand over his mouth but she worried he’d bite it. “It’s more that I dislike him intensely.” She explained how she’d come to adopt the cat after his owner died. “I know he’s grieving for her, and it’s that making him irascible, but it’s hard living with someone who dislikes you, so I thought I’d get him a treat. See if I can win him over, because I have to say, that cat is killing me. I never know when he’s going to pounce.”
Reverend Sunday nodded. She was not a woman who gestured a lot, and yet in that slight incline of her head, she conveyed a lot of meaning. She was thinking about something.
“Have you considered praying about it?” she asked.
“Praying about the cat? No,” Maggie said. “I can’t ask God to bother himself about a cat.”
“Why don’t you let God decide what He wants to bother Himself with?”
They started walking toward the checkout. “It just seems like with the Middle East and terrorism and everything else, God has enough on his hands.”
“Ask him,” Sunday said. “He will answer you.”
Maggie felt silly about it, and put it out of her head. She took Edgar home and helped him get the gecko set up, which was a process. They had to find the right place for its tank, and they had to warm up a rock. Fortunately it ate dry food so they didn’t need to buy frozen crickets. Helen seemed especially quiet. Edgar ran over and asked her to look at the gecko, but she just patted his curly head and went back to staring into space.
“Everything okay?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, Maggie Dove. Don’t you fret.”
That night when Maggie went home, she prayed over Helen—and then, so long as she was there, she prayed over Kosi. Dear God, please help me find a way to deal with this cat. With Kosi, she said, using his name. It seemed good to be specific. She kept on praying, giving God what information she had about Kosi, and then she wound up the prayer by asking, as she always did, for God to let Juliet know that she thought about her all the time and missed her. Then she fell asleep and woke up an hour later, with Kosi scratching at her arm. An hour later he scratched her face. She couldn’t get back to sleep that time, worried he’d scratch out her eyes, and so she lay awake worrying about that, and then other things, and then thinking about Racine, and when she finally fully woke up, it was almost time for church.
“I have definitively proven that prayers to God about cats do not work,” she muttered to Kosi, to God, and to Reverend Sunday.
She looked in the mirror and sighed. She had such dark circles under her eyes. When she was young, she used to put on concealer, but it would take plaster to get rid of these, and she figured she’d just make believe she was French. Somehow that led her back to thinking about Racine, and how she never talked about the time she spent in France. Ten years was a long time. Maggie wondered if she had to suppress that memory now that her life was so different. She was thinking about that when she stepped out the door and almost stepped right onto a kitten on her veranda.
“Now, who are you?” she whispered, peering down.
It was a little gray thing, curled up on her front steps.
Automatically, Maggie looked around, wondering if some large angry mother cat was nearby, but no. It seemed to be just this little kitten, who was all bones and fur and who collapsed so warmly into her arms.
“Oh Lord,” she whispered. “I ask you for help with one cat, and you give me another.”
There was nothing to do but to bring the kitten inside. There were coyotes outside and a host of other dangers. It made little mewing noises as she brought it inside and set it down in her living room and pondered what to do with this new development. And then Kosi came meandering in and at the sight of the kitten he stopped. His tail began lashing the air. He made a slight rumbling sound, but the kitten wasn’t scared. Immediately it went bounding to Kosi and rubbed its head against him. Kosi stood still. He looked up at Maggie as though struck dumb, and then he licked the kitten. Maggie watched them for a while, to make sure Kosi wouldn’t eat the smaller cat, but instead Kosi lay down, the little kitten curling up alongside him. Kosi licked it in the most maternal way, and Maggie thought how odd it was that a person—or a cat, in this case—could be so jammed up with love and unable to get it out, until some little creature showed it the way. She remembered how Edgar’s love for her had just about changed her world. She’d felt so cold and all alone until that wild boy wrapped his arms around her. He brought new life to her, and he brought Helen into her life. Helen was not quite a daughter, but she was the next best thing.
That morning, after Sunday School let out and all the kids were running around outside, Maggie went to the library in the church, where she knew she’d find Helen. She always liked to nap during the service.
“You look exhausted.”
“Phone calls from Syria. There’s a seven hour time difference. It threw me off.”
“Did you have that teacher m
eeting the other day?” Maggie asked. “How did it go?”
“Oh God, don’t even ask me about that. They make it sound like he’s the bad seed.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Maggie said. She knew Edgar’s teacher, a good-natured girl who’d gone to Columbia to get a MA in child education. She was a serious teacher, but Maggie knew she treated Edgar kindly.
“They want to do all sorts of tests, and put him on medicine, and have meetings. It’s overwhelming.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’m not doing any of it. He’s a boy. He’s a boy who’s got to learn to adjust. He’s just going to have to toughen up. That’s all. He’s strong and intelligent. He simply needs self-control.”
“Sometimes kids need a little more than that,” Maggie pointed out.
“Not my kid,” Helen said. She shook her head. “Sorry, Mama Dove, but that’s it.”
She looked so resistant, Maggie thought. So solitary, so isolated and so frightened. She looked like Racine, when you got down to it. Both of them desperately needing help, and both resistant to receiving it. Maggie thought if she just knew the right combination of words she could unlock both their defenses. But she didn’t know it. She felt frustrated with herself.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she said to Helen. “You’re his mother. But if I promise to sit quietly and not offer advice, will you tell me what’s really bothering you.”
Around them Maggie could hear the sounds of the church: people talking, getting cookies and coffee. The choir director was playing on the piano, working with the teenagers on a song.
“As you have probably gathered, I wasn’t married to Edgar’s father. I didn’t know him, truth to tell. We worked on a mission together. I can’t go into details, except to say that he was famous for his skills. We were in Syria, the only two people around. We had a moment, you could say. I don’t regret it, but I never expected to have Edgar.”
“Is he someone you could ask for help?”
Helen brushed back her hair. On her hands was written the word “dinner.” The sort of girl who would forget she wanted dinner.
“He was an assassin, Maggie. He was the man they went to when they needed a hard task done. Not long after that, when we were on a mission, I saw him do something truly evil. I can’t tell you what it was, but it was bad. I was shocked. I thought I’d seen everything, but I hadn’t seen that. I switched to working for the CIA then, where, you’ll laugh to hear this, at least there were rules, and it was then that I found out I was pregnant. That evil, Maggie, is inside of Edgar. I hoped it would never flourish, but now, when I look at him, I see his father and I worry it will come out. He looks exactly like him, and when I get these school reports, I’m afraid that darkness is flourishing inside him. I don’t know what sort of man he’s going to become and it scares me.”
“No,” Maggie said, grabbing Helen’s hand in her own. “That boy is not evil. He’s trouble, he’s a headache. He should probably take Ritalin. But he’s not evil.”
“Can you promise me that, Maggie?”
“Yes, I can promise you, because one thing I know is that goodness is stronger than evil. It always is. Goodness will triumph with that boy and he’ll grow up to be a good man.”
“I wish I had your certainty.”
“It’s not certainty,” Maggie said. “It’s faith. That’s something completely different, but it’s powerful, Helen. It’s more powerful than anything.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, and then she heard the sound of Edgar’s footsteps, and she automatically clenched her stomach, preparing for where he would hit her, and together they went and got cookies, and then it was time for Maggie to go off to visit one of the most ancient members of the church, who was also one of the most inspiring people Maggie knew.
Chapter 40
Since taking over the helm of the church, Reverend Sunday had initiated several new programs, and one of them involved visiting the homebound members once a month. She argued that these souls tended to slip between the cracks. That once they stopped coming to church, people forgot them, and so every Sunday she paid visits, and this second Sunday in November was Maggie’s turn to accompany her. They were going to visit Ella Standards, who was 91 years old.
Ella lived in a small house not far from the church. It was a home filled with pictures. The walls were covered with photos of her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She’d been a great knitter in her time, and every single piece of furniture had an afghan on it. Sarah, her aide, wore a pink afghan. Sarah came from Ghana, which was a great source of joy to Reverend Sunday.
“How is Ella?” Reverend Sunday asked as Sarah guided them to the bedroom.
“Good,” she said. She smiled at the very old lady, who was sleeping peacefully. Ella slept most of the time. She was very pale, but her face wore a slight smile. She clutched a little brown teddy bear that had a knit jacket on it. Her Bible was by her on the bed. Her breathing seemed shallow. Reverend Sunday held her hand and prayed with her for a while. Often the sound of the familiar words would rouse Ella. Maggie was always touched by how those words could have such power, but not today. Ella was in a sound sleep, and after a while the reverend said, “Maggie, I’m going to visit with Sarah for a bit.”
“I’ll stay here with Ella,” Maggie said. “You two go and chat.”
She settled herself into a chair. She had The Brothers Karamazov with her. She was almost at the end, and was content to sit there reading. The fact was that she’d been running around so much, being in a room with this well-loved woman would be peaceful.
Reverend Sunday and Sarah went off to the living room. Maggie knew they liked to talk about their memories of Ghana. She could hear their laughter, and she settled in and began to read, when all of a sudden, Ella opened her eyes.
“Maggie Dove,” she said.
“How are you, my friend?” Maggie asked. She clasped her hand. Ella had always been one of her favorites at church, an elegant woman who was always the first to greet strangers. She was very well organized and had run the annual Attic Sale like a military operation. Once she caught someone stealing and had chased him down with an umbrella. She was a pip, as Maggie’s husband liked to say.
They discussed Ella’s health for a few moments, or lack of it, and then Ella asked how Maggie was doing. One of the nice things about being with old people, Maggie thought, was that they made you feel so young. In Ella’s eyes, Maggie was a young mother and always would be.
Then Ella moved on to a subject that was foremost on her mind. “Is the church budget balanced?”
“A small deficit, I think.”
Ella shook her head disapprovingly. “How’s church attendance?”
“Pretty good. Lots of new families.”
“And this minister. She’s all right?” She searched Maggie’s face.
“Yes,” Maggie said, and she told her about how they were all going to a Ghanaian restaurant with the Dining Out Club. Now that she thought about it, it occurred to Maggie that Ella might have started the Dining Out Club many years ago. “I wish you could go.”
“Soon enough I’ll be dining with the angels,” Ella said. She nodded at the chair in which Maggie was sitting. “My grandfather’s been starting to visit. He sits right there. I think he’ll be the one to guide me over. I’ll say hello to Juliet for you.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said.
Ella closed her eyes. She looked like she was dozing off, but then she opened them.
“What’s this I hear about you having a detective agency?”
“It’s true,” Maggie said. “I’m working with two other women. Solving mysteries.”
“In Ferris’s old offices?”
“Are they? I don’t know.” Everything in the village had belonged to someone else at some point. You would have to build your own house, as Agnes had done, in order to claim something for your own, and even then people said her land belonged to somebody else. It
was Miller’s old farmland.
“You’re making money?”
“Yes,” Maggie said with a smile.
“Good for you. You’re working on the case about Domino Stern?”
“That’s right,” Maggie said, laughing. “Ella, I think I’m going to hire you. You have better sources than I do.”
“I’ve been seeing Leonard,” Ella said. “He comes to visit.”
“Leonard Stern?”
“He comes to me. Sits right where you do, though of course he’s much bigger. I always liked big men.”
Maggie knew enough about the dying to know that they existed in a place out of time. They lived in a dream-like state. She also remembered that Ella’s husband was quite short.
“He was the great love of my life.”
Life was full of surprises. Maggie tried to think it through. Ella Standard was 91, which was the same age as Madame Simone. Maggie had never connected the two of them. Madame Simone had always seemed a force unto herself. A woman closely knit to her husband and daughter. She never thought of her having competition.
“What was Leonard Stern like? I’ve heard stories.”
“Don’t believe the stories. People are jealous of a man like that. You want to know what he was like? He was alive. He was vibrant. He was romantic. Unlike that wife of his, who just married him to come to this country.”
“Didn’t he love her?”
“At first he did, I guess. You know, she told him she was a countess, but that wasn’t true. She lied. She just wanted to get out of France, to marry a rich American. Once she got here, she made it clear she didn’t care about him. She was looking for a servant, not a husband.”
Maggie thought that seemed to be a theme with Madame Simone. She treated her daughter the same way.
“We fell in love. I don’t excuse myself, but it was real.”
Ella started to cough. She gripped Maggie’s hand, and forced back the pain. A woman who could force back a lot of pain, Maggie thought.
“He was going to divorce her, but then she became pregnant with Domino. I thought she was lying when he told me, but that time she spoke the truth. All those years she refused to have another child, and then suddenly she wants one.” That explained the fifteen-year difference in ages between Domino and Racine, Maggie thought. Having seen how strong-minded Madam Simone was, Maggie could well believe she used whatever weapon she had to hang on to Leonard.
