Deadly Heritage

by Marissa Shrock

  Before I could protest that Clara and Fiona must’ve worked things out since they’d kept in touch after Clara left town, Mallory squealed and jumped up.

  “Excuse me. My son and daughter-in-law finally made it here with my new granddaughter!” She flitted across the banquet room to the young man and woman standing in the doorway holding a baby carrier.

  While Tyler and Cal continued baseball talk, I pushed mashed potatoes and noodles around my plate and wondered if we’d ever find the truth in this situation.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Grandpa and Wanda’s wedding day dawned clear and cold. As I scrambled around Mom’s guest room in my robe getting ready for my hair appointment at ten, I kept thinking about Cal. After the rehearsal dinner the night before, he’d given me a kiss and followed me back to Mom and Dan’s house.

  But even though our relationship seemed fine on the surface, I felt tension building underneath.

  Was it because of Hamlet? I turned on my blow dryer. I hadn’t asked Hamlet to come to Bible study. That was all on Evan. If Cal didn’t like Hamlet being there, then it was time for him to get over his phobia of small groups and show up. I’d invited him multiple times.

  I’d reassured him that nobody would make him share anything that made him feel uncomfortable, and we didn’t get that deep anyway. If I had a concern that was highly personal, I wouldn’t share it in mixed company. That’s what Brandi and Ashley were for.

  I’d let the issue go because Cal was such a good boyfriend in other ways, but if our relationship got any more serious, I’d have to make a choice about my church attendance, and that meant going to Cal’s church. He’d made it clear he had no intention of attending Wildcat Springs Community. It was too big, and the worship was too contemporary for his taste.

  The fact that I hadn’t started attending with him—at least sometimes—made me wonder about my own level of commitment. What was holding me back? Was it that I’d attended my church since I was a month old?

  Or were church and Hamlet just symptoms of a bigger problem that Cal sensed too?

  Was that why he’d put an offer on a house? The only other explanation was that he wanted to prove he could buy a house and he didn’t need mine.

  I didn’t like either option.

  “You have nice hair.” Fiona donned her red glasses, picked up my locks, and surveyed them while I sat in the chair at her salon. “Walk Like an Egyptian” played over the sound system, and I tapped my foot to the beat.

  Pat lounged on a couch near the door and was flipping through a beat-up copy of Cosmopolitan.

  Merciful heavens.

  I’d already shown Fiona my phone with a message about why I wasn’t talking, so I mouthed, “Thank you.”

  “What would you like me to do?” She spun me around so I faced the mirror.

  I tapped my phone and showed her a picture of a curly up-do I’d found a couple of days ago.

  Fiona pursed her lips and studied it. “I can work with that. Your hair’s so thick that I may have to modify a couple of things, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I gave her a thumbs up, and she patted me on the shoulder.

  “How are you doing? After the fire and all?”

  Okay. You? I know you and Clara were friends.

  Fiona brushed my hair. “I’m hanging in there. We’d been buddies since third grade when we both were in Mrs. Cooper’s class. I was pretty shy as a kid, and Clara decided we were going to be friends one day during recess, and that was that.”

  I caught her eye in the mirror and gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “I thought you’d be lost without talking, but your face and eyes say it all.” She sprayed a section of my hair and wound it around a curling iron. “I’d been trying to convince Clara to come home for years, and I feel awful that when she finally listened, she got killed.” She released the curl and sprayed another section of hair.

  Did she ever tell you why she never visited?

  “No. I tried to get it out of her, but she always shut me down. Before she left, there were some awful rumors about her. There was speculation that she ran away because she was pregnant, and her family was ashamed. Some people said the kid was your dad’s, and he didn’t want to claim it. I had trouble believing that one because I heard him say once he didn’t believe in fooling around outside of marriage, and he would’ve claimed any baby of his. Others said Clara was so wild she didn’t even know who the father was. She and your daddy fought on prom night, and she didn’t have a thing to do with him after that. Graduation was a week later, and she left for Texas the day after.”

  Did her leaving have anything to do with something that happened at an after-party on prom night?

  “Could’ve been, but I don’t know for sure. My parents wouldn’t let me go to any after-parties, but even though Clara and I were in the same group that went to prom together, we didn’t spend much time together senior year. Halfway through, Clara dropped me like a hot potato and started running around with Mallory Smith—well you know her as Mallory Morris. It was Mallory this, Mallory that.” Her face twisted.

  Was it because Fiona had tried to steal Daddy from Clara?

  Did you and Clara have a fight over boys or something?

  “Nope. It would’ve made sense if we had, but we didn’t have the same taste. I liked the brooding musician type—not the jocks. My first husband was a drummer in a rock band. Then the jerk left me for a groupie.”

  If Fiona didn’t like jocks, then why had she begun an affair with Jack Schultz? Unless she was over brooding musicians because of her divorce.

  “I always figured Clara picked Mallory because she was more popular than me and liked to party. Plus, she had a fancy car, and I didn’t. Lot of good it did her. She wrapped the thing around a tree. Anyway. That’s all water under the bridge, but to this day, I’m not a Mallory Morris fan. Eventually, I found other gals to run around with, which was good, because if I hadn’t, Clara would’ve left me high and dry when she moved.”

  How did you start talking again?

  “Years later she sent a letter out of the blue, and I was willing to let bygones be bygones.” She curled another section of my hair. “We talked on the phone a couple of times a year.” She released my hair, set the curling iron aside, and looked me straight in the eye. “Speaking of letters coming out of the blue. I just remembered something.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I forgot all about this.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Years ago, I got roped into serving on the football state championship reunion committee with your dad, and about a week before he died, he asked me for Clara’s address because he wanted to write her.”

  I started to type, but she waved her hand.

  “He didn’t say why, and I didn’t ask. But it seemed like he had something important on his mind, and I figured with the reunion bringing back all those high school memories, he wanted to encourage her to come home and visit.”

  Did Clara ever say if she received a letter?

  “No. She didn’t say, but I think if she had, she’d have told me when we talked after Ray died.” She sprayed my hair. “Evidently he took what he wanted to say to his grave.”

  Goosebumps rose on my arms.

  With my hair finally coiffed to perfection and Pat as my faithful escort, I left Sassy Salon and drove to Ashley’s house for lunch with her and Brandi. I didn’t need to be at the church until around three, so that gave me plenty of time to catch up with my friends.

  Or at least listen while the two of them talked.

  I waved at Pat in his van and walked around to Ashley’s back door.

  “It’s unlocked,” she shouted.

  When I entered, the scent of chicken broth filled her kitchen. I smiled and waved, having already warned her about my vow of silence.

  “I made chicken noodle soup. It might be good for your throat.” She pointed a spoon at the kitchen table where a plate of crackers and mini chicken salad sandwiches wait
ed. “And tea with honey, so drink up.” She brought me a cup.

  I took my place at the table as Brandi entered.

  She pushed her hood off. “How long until spring?”

  “Approximately twenty-five days, hon.” Ashley pointed toward the calendar hanging on the side of her cabinet.

  Brandi laughed as she took off her coat and glanced toward the calendar. “That was rhetorical, but you actually have a countdown.” She joined me at the table.

  Ashley ladled two bowls of soup and gave them to Brandi and me. When she returned from the stove with her own bowl, she was beaming. She placed the bowl on the table and clasped her hands. “I gave my two-week’s notice yesterday.”

  Brandi and I looked at each other.

  Ashley’s smile melted away. “You can’t possibly be surprised. I told you I was going to quit.” She sat, shook out her napkin, and placed it on her lap. “I thought you’d be happy for me. This is a big step.”

  I gave her a thumbs up.

  “How about I bless the food?” Brandi said.

  We bowed our heads, and she prayed.

  “Now,” Brandi said to Ashley. “Tell us more about where you are in your business preparations.”

  “Yesterday, I signed a lease on the building. I’m allowed to make changes, so I want to update the restrooms and improve the lighting.”

  I grabbed my phone.

  Let us know if you need help painting.

  Ashley nodded. “I will. There are several things I need to do myself to keep the cost down.”

  “Have you told your parents yet?” Brandi asked.

  Ashley ducked her head. “No.”

  Brandi arched an eyebrow. “When do you plan to do this?”

  “Soon.”

  “I’ll be praying about that conversation.” Brandi took a sip of soup.

  Ashley stirred her soup. “Thanks.”

  I sensed the need for a subject change.

  J.T. update?

  Ashley rested her spoon on a plate. “We had the best time the other night. The movie was a total dud, so we walked out and went for coffee—and closed the place down.”

  I clapped.

  “I’ve always known J.T. was a good guy, but it impresses me that he’s such a hard worker. He comes across as so laid back, but he was telling me he earned another cruise to the Bahamas because his sales were so good.”

  I hadn’t heard that yet, but I was proud of my cousin.

  “When’s the next date?” Brandi asked.

  “There’s not going to be one.”

  I dropped my spoon, tapped an angry-face emoji onto my phone, and held it up.

  “Explain.” Brandi crossed her arms.

  Ashley stared at her hands. “The timing is terrible. I need to focus on my art studio. I don’t have time for a new relationship.”

  “What’d J.T. say?” Brandi asked before I could type the same question.

  “He understands. He’s willing to be patient.”

  “For how long? You can’t lead him on indefinitely.”

  “I’m not leading him on,” Ashley said. “I’ve been very clear about my inability to commit.”

  “Are you sure this is about the studio and not about you being gun shy because of your broken engagement?” Brandi studied her.

  Ashley had been on many dates but hadn’t let herself get into a serious relationship since her fiancé had walked out on their wedding day.

  “Yes. Besides, it’s not like J.T. and I aren’t going to see each other. He’s offered to help me fix up the studio, and there’s Bible study.” She put a chicken salad sandwich on her plate. “New topic.”

  I sipped my tea. I wanted so badly to be able to talk to my friends about Cal. I needed their input about my confusion. They could reassure me that I was being paranoid. That the bad feeling in my gut was just me projecting past experiences onto my current situation.

  “My sister-in-law set me up with a guy from their church,” Brandi said. “She’s been after me for a while, and she finally convinced me.”

  I typed a softball emoji with a question mark.

  Brandi laughed. “We’ll have to work around my schedule. His name is Dalton, and he’s a physical therapist in Richardville.”

  “When are you going out?” Ashley sat up straighter.

  “Tonight.”

  “Do you need help with your outfit?” Ashley asked.

  “That’d be great.”

  I tucked away the rest of my soup while they scrutinized Brandi’s wardrobe. I’d have to rely on God to help the turmoil in my soul.

  I’m sorry. I’m tied up with a case. I may not get to the wedding. I’ll try to make the reception.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I read Cal’s message. I’d wanted him to hear me sing. I set my phone on my dresser and plunked down on the edge of my bed. Since Pat was stationed outside in his van, I’d decided it was safe to hang out at home until it was time for the wedding. I was thankful for the privacy, but I missed Gus, who was still at Mom and Dan’s.

  Lord, please show me your will with Cal.

  I gazed out the window at my pond, which had developed a thin layer of ice. The morning sunshine had disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds. According to the forecasts, we were supposed to get snow flurries that night—though nothing bad enough to put a damper on the wedding festivities.

  Kicking off my shoes, I sat on my bed, being careful not to damage my hair. Tears spilled over. For Daddy. For Grandma Winston. For Beverly.

  And for everything I feared was coming.

  When my sobs subsided, I stared at the ceiling. I needed to put cold spoons over my eyes, warm up my voice, and get dressed. I hauled myself off the bed.

  Too bad I didn’t have a happy face hanging in my closet.

  I arrived at the church and went straight to the chapel for a sound check. Pat slid into a pew in the back of the room.

  Hamlet waved at me from the sound booth. “Devin has the flu, so he called me to take over.”

  Of course. Why couldn’t I get away from this man? At least he was wearing a dark gray suit instead of a sweater vest. Masking my dismay, I showed him my phone with my standard vow-of-silence message.

  “Would you like to practice your song?”

  I gave him a thumbs up, grabbed a microphone, and walked to the stage. A few minutes later, the pressure lifted. Though my pipes weren’t in top form, my lack of talking had done wonders to heal them, and my voice hadn’t cracked once.

  Hamlet applauded. “That was beautiful. Your Grandpa will be proud.”

  Pat gave me a thumbs-up.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed as I wandered to the back of the chapel and sat in a pew. I couldn’t quite bring myself to enter the bridal room. I’d peeked in earlier, and Mallory had been fluttering around helping Wanda into her dress. Aunt Rhonda and Michelle were providing moral support and representing our side of the family. Knowing Beverly should be there and wasn’t stabbed my heart.

  “Are you okay?” Hamlet asked.

  I made the so-so motion.

  “May I pray for you?”

  I nodded.

  Hamlet slid into the pew and bowed his head. “Father, help Georgia through whatever’s troubling her. Let her know she has many people who care about her. Make her voice sound as beautiful as it did during practice. Amen.”

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat, reached over, and squeezed his hand in thanks.

  “Georgia?” Cal stood in the chapel entrance. “What’s going on?”

  Chapter Twenty

  I scurried over to give Cal a hug—or at least as fast as I could move in my silver shoes with three-inch heels that had me looking eye-to-eye with him for the first time ever.

  “Hey, Hamlet.” Cal eyed Hamlet, who hovered behind me. “Is everything okay? I obviously walked in on something.”

  Hamlet shook his head. “Your girlfriend is upset, though she couldn’t tell me why because of her vow of silence, so I prayed. No big deal.”

/>   “Do you have to keep up this vow of silence?” Cal asked.

  I nodded.

  “It paid off,” Hamlet said. “Her voice sounded beautiful in the warm-up.”

  For about two seconds, I thought Cal was going to deck him. Instead, he put his arm around my waist. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

  We waved goodbye to Pat, and Cal led me outside of the chapel where the first few guests were lining up to sign the guest book. Inside, the pianist began playing as we headed toward the café.

  “You look beautiful, by the way. That dress. . .wow.”

  I smiled at him. I’d hoped he’d like the dress. It was fitted, falling to my knee. Sequins added some sparkle to the all-over, dark blue lace. My favorite part was the long sleeves—perfect for winter and hiding my pasty arms.

  Maybe I didn’t need to worry about my relationship with Cal. He’d made it to the wedding. He cared enough to get a bodyguard. I’d accused Ashley of projecting her fears from past relationships onto her current one when I was guilty of that very thing. I took my phone from my silver clutch and started typing.

  Is everything okay at work?

  “Yes. It’s been a crazy day. We finally have a positive ID for the body the construction workers found a couple of weeks ago, and I needed to be there for the press conference.”

  Who was it?

  “Keith Jefferson. His father and sister are relieved to have closure, since they’ve been living without answers for thirty-eight years. Unfortunately, Keith’s mother died last year.”

  Would my family have to wait that long to find out what happened to Daddy? Or would we die without answers? I stared out the café windows at the parking lot. More and more guests were streaming in.