by Joyce Magnin
“When, dear? Did I go to the county police station when?”
“Don’t play games.”
Harriet sat down at the table and put her head in her hands. “I’m bushed. Working with the FBI is tiring.”
“Well?” Henry said. He was unwrapping a Little Debbie snack cake.
Martha sat down at the kitchen table. “Yes,” she said. “We went to the police station. Harriet just wanted to check on Lily. She’s grown kind of fond of her. And, well … so have I. She really is a sweet kid. A little misguided, maybe, but that’s understandable.”
“I hope they treat her right,” Harriet said. “The FBI lady said she’s upset with her father, but I bet she misses him—considering everything.”
“It’s standard procedure,” Prudence said. “They’d want to keep them apart. As I said, they told me they took him to the FBI field office in Sacramento. As long as you were there, did you give a statement, Mother?”
“Not yet. Agent Willers said I should wait and the FBI will call me.” Harriet took a breath. “Imagine that, the FBI calling me.”
The sounds of hammering drifted into the room.
“Look,” Henry said, “why don’t we all go into the living room? It’s more comfortable and it’s getting noisy in here.”
“But it’s a good sound,” Harriet said. “It means they’re framing the walls and rafters. It’s the sound of normal.”
Once in the living room, Prudence settled into the over-stuffed chair. “How was she? Did they say anything? Did they let you see her?”
Harriet sighed. “No, they wouldn’t let us see her. Not even to say a quick hello and check on her, you know? I didn’t like that. But like we said, we did run into that nice FBI lady.”
“Agent,” Prudence said.
“FBI agent,” Martha said. “She told us Lily will be going first to a children’s house of some sort.” She let go a deep sigh.
“Are you okay, Martha?” Prudence asked. “I bet you weren’t expecting this on your vacation.”
“No, I wasn’t, but I’m okay. Just thinking. That’s all.”
“Martha offered to take her,” Harriet said.
The room fell silent until Prudence said, “Really, Martha. You would consider taking her?”
Martha nodded. “I … I would. I know it sounds impulsive, but I’ve been thinking and asking God about it and … well, yeah, if it could be worked out, I would take her.”
“Martha,” Henry said with a little squeak. “You can’t be serious. “She’s … she was working with her father. Scamming old ladies.”
“She was doing what she had to do,” Martha said.
“I guess, but still, she knew right from wrong. She could have gone to the police.”
“Really?” Harriet said. “A kid? Go to the police and turn in her father? The only family she has? Poor thing lost her mama a few years ago and everything went kablooey after that. She has no one else.”
“But still. People should know right from wrong.” Harriet looked at Martha. She could only imagine what she must have been thinking—about Wyatt. “I will still take her,” Martha said.
“Why would you want to do that?” Prudence asked. “She’s probably a handful.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I think she desperately wants a stable home life. It would be good for both of us.”
“I could check into it for you,” Prudence said. “But don’t get your hopes up. I’m pretty sure you living in Pennsylvania will make it impossible.”
Martha tilted her head. “Oh, I didn’t think of that.”
“Why, Martha?” Henry asked. “Why would you want to take a troubled kid, I mean, at this time in your life?”
Martha’s knees shook, and Harriet could see tears form in her eyes. “I guess it might have something to do with Wyatt. It’s kind of like a second chance. Maybe I can keep Lily out of trouble.”
“But what if you can’t?” Henry said. “What if she’s too far gone?”
“Like Wyatt?”
“Maybe,” Henry said. “I’m sorry, but … you could be getting yourself into a lot more heartache.”
Martha took a breath. “Oh, sweetie, there’s no greater heartache than what I’m carrying these days. At least not for me. I just know in my heart that I’ve got to at least try. Try to help that girl.”
Humphrey scooted into the room. He flopped near Martha. “See? Even Humphrey thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Okay,” Prudence said. “I’ll make some calls. I can’t promise this will work. I seriously doubt they’ll let her cross state lines.”
“Thank you,” Martha said. “That’s all I ask. Try. It would mean the world to me and to her.”
Harriet felt tears well up in her eyes. “Oh dear, this is just … well, it’s been such a day. Such a day.”
“It certainly has been a day,” Prudence said. “I think we all deserve a peaceful evening.”
And fortunately, it did turn out to be a mostly peaceful evening. For the rest of the afternoon Henry and Pru worked while Harriet and Martha rested. Harriet hoped Prudence was trying to figure out a way for Martha to take Lily—if that was what Martha really wanted. Then Martha was still resting when Harriet and Henry were sitting on the deck before starting dinner, after the workers had gone home.
They heard Florence’s “Yoo-hoo” around five-thirty.
“Yoo-hoo,” Florence repeated. “I brought corn. Fresh corn.” She carried a paper bag onto the deck. “Just bought it today. And I thought after the day you had it might be welcome.”
“What?” Harriet said. “How did you know?”
“I saw a news report,” Florence said. She handed Henry the bag. “Ten ears. Already shucked. Just throw them in some boiling water for a few minutes. Not too long.” She seemed to have forgotten Henry was a cook himself.
“Thank you,” Henry said. “But … but the news?”
“Now, I wasn’t certain at first,” Florence said. “But then I figured it just had to be your gold mine they were talking about. They arrested that Crickets fella. Showed them taking him out of that ramshackle old house up in Rough and Ready. And get this. He was in his underwear.” She let go a hearty laugh. “Boxers. Baby blue boxers, and he only had a skinny T-shirt and raggedy old moccasins on too. He looked terrible. Matter of fact, he kind of looked like a big old cricket.”
“So they got him,” Harriet said. She leaned back in the chair feeling pretty good about the whole caper. “And I did this. I ratted him out. Well, Lily did, but still.”
“Guess you’re kind of a hero,” Henry said.
“Yep,” Florence said. “Probably sitting in an interrogation room right now, rubbing his legs together.”
Harriet laughed. “The rat fink.”
“Oh, I can think of stronger words than that,” Florence said.
“Me too,” Henry said.
“Did they mention me?” Harriet asked.
“Nah. Just something about an anonymous tip. They’ll air it again on the six o’clock news, I bet.”
“I can’t believe it. The news,” Harriet said to Florence when Henry carried the bag into the kitchen.
“Your fifteen minutes of fame,” Florence said. She sat down at the table. “Say, the addition is shaping up. I bet you can’t wait to get settled.”
“It will be nice.”
“Now, you don’t seem too happy. You did a good thing. Them rustlers need to go to jail.”
“It’s just … I feel bad about the money.”
“It’s only money,” Florence said. “Don’t give it any brain space. You got twins coming and an addition to decorate.”
Harriet invited Florence for dinner that evening. Henry was going to grill burgers and boil the corn Florence had brought over. But first they watched the news.
She had thought it would be kind of exciting. But no, it was actually sad. Martha nearly cried because it made her think of Lily. Henry thought Crickets looked like a gangster. “Look at the guy,” he said. �
��I’m so glad you never had to deal with him directly.”
“Yeah,” Prudence said. “Men like him shoot first and ask questions later.”
The air was just a little too cool to sit on the deck, but dining in the dining room was just fine. Soon Florence called it an evening. “Thank you for the great meal,” she said. “And congratulations, Harriet. Job well done.” Then she turned to Martha. “And, oh, Martha, Mabel is really interested in seeing your work.”
“Maybe,” Martha said. “Just maybe we can work something out.”
Harriet closed the shades in the bedroom. “I’m glad it’s over. But … but finding gold would have been pretty fun, don’t you think?” She then took a pair of jammies from the dresser. “I think I’ll shower in the morning.” She yawned wide. “I’m plum tuckered.”
She turned, expecting to see Martha changing for bed. But Martha was sitting on the edge of the bed with elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m being rash. Maybe I should just let her go, but I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about Lily.”
Harriet sat next to her. “You’re not being rash. It’s a fine idea. I think you’d be great for Lily.”
“Yeah, but, what if she’s more trouble than I think she is?”
“She might be, but … I just don’t get that feeling about her. I think she really wants to be a good kid.”
“That’s how I feel. But … but …”
“The truth of the matter is,” Harriet said, “you don’t even know if you can take her. I doubt she can go across the country anyway.”
“But I feel something, something inside, that is telling me I have to try. Even if I have to move to Grass Valley, I’ll do it.”
“You mean it? But, Martha …” Harriet had to sit down. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She flopped onto the bed. The wingback chair had to be removed to make room for Martha’s bed. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” She smiled wide. “I know you didn’t want to leave Wyatt. But I am so happy you changed your mind.”
Harriet watched a twinkle appear in Martha’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Wyatt made his choices. He knew right from wrong, and look at what happened to him. I hardly ever see him, to be honest. And maybe now, now I have a chance to kind of start over. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard after all. Maybe I can really help Lily.”
“She’s almost eighteen,” Harriet said. “She could just bolt out the door. You’ll be taking a big risk.”
“Hopefully she won’t. But really, Harriet, I feel like I have to try. I know in my heart that this is right. It just feels right, you know what I mean?”
Harriet thought back to when she first arrived in Grass Valley. It had been a long road, but she knew it was right in spite of all the trials and worries. She knew she was right where God wanted her.
Humphrey ambled up to Martha. He laid his head on her knee and looked up at her. Martha patted his head. “You know, don’t you, boy?”
“Okay,” Harriet said. “If it’s really what you want, then let’s make it happen.”
“It is. You know, Harriet, for months, maybe even years, I’ve been feeling like everything was unraveling. It started after Jack died. I didn’t bounce back the way you did when you lost Max.”
“I thought you did.”
“Everybody did. But the truth is, it was just a show. I pretended I was doing well. I got involved with my art, and I hid there. I could shut the world out when I was working with the glass or pottery. When I threw a pot on the wheel I could smash it if it didn’t go right, didn’t look right, and start over. But I couldn’t do that with the real stuff—like Wyatt. And then I didn’t even want to do my art.”
“And now maybe you have a chance to get better with Lily.”
“In a way.”
Just then Harriet heard Henry calling. “Mom! Mom! Come quick!”
“What in the world?” Harriet said. She and Martha dashed to the living room.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet looked into her son’s eyes. All she saw was fear.
“It’s Prudence!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN, MOM.”
“Where is she?” Martha asked.
“The bedroom. We have to get her to the hospital.”
Martha dashed off to the bedroom. “I’ll go see.”
“Okay, okay,” Harriet said. “I’ll go start the car. You go get her. Can she walk?”
“Not sure. Mom, why is this happening?”
“Henry, stop. Focus. Go get Prudence. Carry her if you have to.”
Martha returned as Henry ran to get Prudence.
“Come on,” Harriet said. “Let’s get the car started.”
Humphrey said, “Woof.”
“She’s cramping,” Martha said.
“Blood?” Harriet asked with a swallow.
“Not that I saw,” Martha said.
Henry carried Prudence to the car. Martha and Harriet followed.
“Now, don’t worry. It could be nothing,” he said. “Just relax. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll drive,” Harriet said.
“No, Mom,” Henry said. “Wait here. Please. I’ll drive.”
“But, son, I should go with you.”
“Mom, please stay.”
Martha took Harriet’s hand. “Let them go. We’ll wait here. It could be nothing.”
Prudence wiped at tears flowing down her cheeks. “But it doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like … like before.”
Harriet leaned into the car. She kissed Prudence’s cheek. “I love you, dear. I’ll pray.”
Harriet watched Henry back down the driveway. “I don’t believe this is happening.”
Prudence squirmed. “My back hurts.”
“I know. I mean, I don’t know. I mean, I do, but look, it’s okay. I’m going to go fast. Just hang on tight. I’m running red lights if I have to.”
“Okay,” Prudence said. She grabbed the handle above the door. “Hurry, Henry.”
Henry pulled into the ER parking lot. “Come on,” he said. “Slowly.” He took Prudence’s hand and helped her gently but quickly into the ER. It was crowded, but Henry didn’t care. He told Prudence to sit while he went to the check-in. No one was there. He waited. “Come on,” he said. “Someone come.”
“You have to write your name on that check-in sheet,” someone said.
“Thanks.” Henry wrote his name, crossed it off, and wrote Prudence Beamer and then waited some more. “Come on. This is an emergency.”
Finally, a nurse arrived.
“Please,” Henry said. “It’s my wife. I think she’s having a miscarriage. It’s twins.”
“Okay, sir, just calm down. We’ll get to her as soon as we can.”
“No. Now. You don’t understand. We can’t lose these babies.”
“Okay, sir. Calm down. Where is she?”
Henry pointed.
“Does she need a wheelchair?”
“Yes,” Henry said.
The nurse instructed a young woman in green scrubs to take Prudence the wheelchair. Prudence gingerly sat herself in it, then cried out. Henry followed as the nurse pushed Prudence toward an examination room.
“How far along is she?” the nurse asked.
“She’s … she’s …”
“Nine … ten weeks,” Prudence said.
“Okay. We’ll take care of her.”
“Henry,” Prudence said as the nurse wheeled her through the double doors. “I … I feel better.”
“What? No, don’t say that. I mean yes, say that, but …”
“It’s not unusual,” the nurse said. “But we’ll check her out anyway.”
“Thank you,” Henry said. “Are you sure? What about the pain? How’s your back?”
“My back is a little achy, but the pain is gone.”
“They were like contractions,” Henry said. “That’
s what she said. Cramps.”
“All right. We’ll see what’s going on.”
“Should we call Dr. Kate?” Henry asked.
“We have an OB on duty. He’ll be in to see her.”
The nurse helped Prudence onto the table. “Oh no,” Prudence said. “It’s … it’s starting again. Oh Lord, it hurts.”
“Settle down, honey,” Henry said.
“Henry, it hurts.” She leaned back on the table and cried. “It’s starting again. I’m scared, Henry.”
Henry held her hand. “Please,” he told the nurse. “Get the doctor.”
Harriet paced the living room. Humphrey paced with her. She held a fishbowl and kitty cat salt and pepper shaker set in her hands, one of the few sets she had had on display in her bedroom. She liked the way they stuck together with the tiny magnet.
“Aren’t these cute?” she said. “I found them in Missouri.”
“They are adorable,” Martha said. “I wish you’d sit down. Let me make you a cup of tea.”
“No, I can’t,” Harriet said. “I’m so worried. What if she loses the twins? She can’t. God wouldn’t let that happen, would he? Not four babies. He couldn’t take four babies from them.”
“Don’t even say that,” Martha said. She stood up. “It is a little nerve-wracking. But it is probably nothing. It usually is nothing.”
“But this is Prudence.” Harriet set the shakers on a side table. “My heart is racing. I wish he’d call.”
“He will when he has something to say.”
“I know, but maybe I should call—”
“No. Let’s do something else. Show me the plans for the Grammy Suite. You haven’t shown me yet.”
“I haven’t? Oh, well, then let’s go to Henry’s den. He keeps them in there. The builders have their own copies.
“You’re a good friend, Martha,” Harriet said as she unrolled the plans.
“I try. Now, you’ll have to explain to me what I’m looking at.”
“Okay. Well, this big area is the main sitting room. It’s not real large but big enough for a couch and TV.”
“So it’s going to be like a little apartment,” Martha said.
“And this here is a bathroom. So far it’s just big enough for a shower but I think I’ll ask them to change that. Make it bigger, to fit a tub.”
