by Marta Perry
“Sounds as if he’s pretty possible to me.” Claire’s chuckle floated over the phone line. “Come on, Nolie, loosen up. You haven’t been interested in a man in ages.”
Nolie frowned at the receiver. “I’m not interested in him. Not as a man, anyway. Just as a client.”
“That doesn’t eliminate other possibilities.” Claire seemed determined to be provoking.
“I’m worried about his suitability as a test case for the foundation, nothing more.” She tried to make that sound convincing.
“Well, let’s assume that’s true, for the moment.” Claire didn’t sound as though she believed her. “What’s wrong with him as a test case? Isn’t he cooperating?”
“He’d say he is. But I feel as if he’s holding back all the time.” Even the evening before, when they’d seemed so close for those few minutes, she’d sensed that. “I think he still actually believes that he’s never going to have another seizure.”
“You don’t agree.”
“For his sake, I hope it’s true, but what that would do to my case for the foundation, I just don’t know.”
She rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t even told Claire how close that last tax bill had come to wiping her out.
“Well, it wouldn’t be your fault if the test case they insisted on turned out not to need a service animal.” Claire was practical as always. “Speaking of the foundation, did you decide yet what you’re wearing to the foundation dinner?”
“I don’t have anything suitable, so there’s no deciding to do.”
She massaged her temples again, hating the very thought of dressing up for the no-doubt-elegant yearly charitable dinner the foundation put on. Still, as a potential recipient, she couldn’t very well have turned down the invitation.
“Not the navy suit,” Claire said firmly. “Did you tell Gabe yet?”
“No.”
She should have told him that he and Max were expected at the dinner, as well, but she kept taking the coward’s way out and avoiding it. He hadn’t even wanted to go into the grocery store. How was he going to feel about a fancy dinner?
“Don’t put it off,” Claire advised.
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to deal with his reaction.”
“You’re not letting that man intimidate you, are you?” Claire never let anyone intimidate her.
But she wasn’t Claire. “He has a frown that would stop a charging bull.”
“Charging or not, tell him. Otherwise you’ll just stew about it. Is he there now?”
“No. He went to church with his family.”
Thank goodness. Otherwise Claire would be insisting she do it this very minute, while she waited on the phone to be sure Nolie had.
“That sort, are they?” Claire’s tone made her opinion clear.
“So am I,” she reminded Claire gently. “I just don’t do my worshipping in a church.”
And Claire didn’t worship anywhere. Bringing that up could only lead to a quarrel, and she’d decided a long time ago that quarreling about it wouldn’t bring Claire to God. Praying was the only thing she could do.
“Sorry.” Claire voice had softened. “I didn’t mean anything by that crack.”
“I know.”
God would reach out and grab Claire one day, she was sure. Until then, Nolie would go on with her quiet witness.
“Anyway, about the outfit for the dinner.” Claire’s voice regained its usual briskness. “Don’t do anything. I’ll come out later in the week and bring something.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. You’d probably get the evening equivalent of that navy blazer. And tell the man, for goodness’ sake.”
“I will.” She just wasn’t promising when. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, then.”
Nolie hung up and frowned at the telephone. Anything Claire brought for her to wear was probably going to be far too daring for Nolie’s taste, but that wasn’t her main problem. Gabe was definitely a bigger issue.
However, she had something much more important to do now. Picking up her Bible, she hurried outside before the phone could ring again. She whistled to the dogs and started down the path that led through the old orchard to the stream.
Gabe had gone to church with his family. With Lady and Max at her heels, she headed for her place of worship.
The Macintosh apple trees that arched over the path, creating an aisle into her sanctuary, had probably been planted by her great-great-uncle. They might be elderly, but their fragrant blossoms still perfumed the air in a scent better than any hothouse lilies.
The stream gurgled and gushed, bank-full after the spring rains. Her feet took the stepping stones with the ease of long practice until she reached the large flat rock that had become her pew.
She sat down, feeling the sun’s warmth reflected from the rock beneath her. The dogs nosed along the shallow water at the edge of the creek, intent on business of their own. She was at peace.
She put the Bible on her lap, and it fell open to the verse that had guided her faltering steps into faith. “Now with confidence approach the throne of grace—”
Thank you, Father, for guiding me into Your presence. You know the problem that troubles my heart.
She might not know what to do about Gabe, but Someone did. She could have confidence in that.
“Thanks for the ride.” Gabe shut the car door on his mother’s repeated invitations to come back to the house for dinner. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
His father, less interested in what Gabe was having for dinner than his mother, gunned the engine, and the car accelerated back up the lane.
The Flanagans would have to gather around the dinner table without him today. He had business with Nolie that couldn’t wait.
He stalked toward the house. Nolie should have realized that in spite of its size, Suffolk was really a small town at heart. Someone was bound to spill the beans about almost anything a person wanted kept quiet.
In this case, the someone had been one of Brendan’s parishioners, a wealthy businessman who’d rarely, if ever, bothered to greet the Flanagans after service. And the anything had been the unwelcome news that he and Nolie were expected, dog in tow, at the fancy charity bash the foundation was hosting on Friday.
How long had she intended to wait before she told him? He knocked at the kitchen screen door and then knocked again, more loudly.
No one answered. He peered into the kitchen. “Nolie?”
Nothing. She couldn’t be far away. She wouldn’t leave the farm with the door to the house standing unlocked.
He stood for a moment on the edge of the porch, looking around. She had to be here someplace, and when he found her, he was going to tell her just what she could do with that charity dinner.
The farmyard lay motionless and quiet in the May sunshine. Not even the usually busy chickens made any noise. The place looked for all the world like an old engraving—“Pennsylvania Farm, circa 1910.”
Then he caught a splash of color and a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. The movement turned out to be the dogs, chasing each other in the stream. And the bright blue had to be the shirt he’d seen Nolie wear.
He jogged down the steps and crossed the lawn. He had a few choice words to spend on Nolie Lang.
His rapid pace took him through the straggly remains of an orchard, its clouds of white blossoms disguising the gnarled shapes of the old trees. Eyes fixed on Nolie, he headed for the stream.
As he got close enough to see her more clearly, his steps slowed. Nolie sat on a flat gray rock, the stream’s water chuckling around it. Her jeans were faded almost to the color of the stone, but the bright shirt probably made her changeable eyes look the same bright blue. Her head was bent, her fair hair loose and flowing across her shoulders.
Something about her stillness made him pause. Nolie looked more peaceful than he’d ever seen her.
Then he realized what she held on her lap. A Bible. Her head was bent because she
was praying.
He halted. The sight didn’t alleviate his anger, but it did put a check on it. He had to confront her, but not right at this moment. He’d wait until she came back to the house.
He took a step backwards, and a twig snapped beneath his foot. Max’s head came up at the sound. Then, with a welcoming bark, the dog galloped toward him.
Nolie’s head moved almost as fast as the dog. She’d seen him. There was no point in going back now.
“Hi.” He hesitated on the bank. Max plunged into the creek, sending up a spray of water that dampened his gray flannels. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Well, he had, but not once he saw what she was doing.
“It’s fine.” She closed the Bible and patted the sundappled stone next to her. “Join me. There’s something I need to talk with you about.”
And vice versa. He stepped from one stone to the next, a little less than sure-footed in his dress shoes.
He reached the rock without incident and lowered himself to sit beside her.
“So this is what you do instead of going to church.”
She put the Bible behind her on the flat rock and linked her hands around her knees. “This is church, as far as I’m concerned.”
He glanced around, letting the sun’s warmth, the ripple of water, the rustle of leaves in the breeze seep into him. He looked at Nolie. Her face was relaxed, the worry lines erased from around her eyes.
“I see your point. Maybe your church did you more good than mine did me.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “I thought you liked your cousin’s service.”
“Just kidding,” he said quickly. He’d slipped again, saying more to Nolie than he should. No one needed to know just how far away God had seemed to him since the fire. “So, is this how you worship every Sunday?”
She shrugged, her face tightening a little as if she thought he was being critical. “Well, not if it rains.”
She clearly didn’t want to discuss her outdoor worship, and that fact just made him more curious. “Was this how your great-aunt worshipped?”
“No.” Nolie shot the word at him, her head coming up, hands pressing flat against the rock as if ready to shove herself away from him.
He studied her face. A faint flush touched her cheeks as she seemed to realize how much she’d given away with that instinctive response.
“Obviously whatever she did made a pretty negative impression on you.” He didn’t ask, just left it open, wondering.
She looked at him for a long moment, and then stared down at the water that lapped against the rock inches from her sneakers. “Aunt Mariah would have described herself as a very religious woman.”
“How would you describe her?”
Her hands clenched into fists, her tension so palpable that it seemed to reach across the inches between them and sting his nerves to action.
“I’m not sure you want to know.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
His mind flickered to the reason he’d come looking for her. That issue could wait. Something more important was happening.
Nolie seemed to force her hands to relax, unclenching each finger until they were all loose. “It was a long time ago. Best forgotten.”
He studied her face, sensing that he was close to getting past the barriers she put up. Not sure he wanted to, but somehow compelled to go on.
“You know most of what there is to know about my family. Why so secretive about yours?”
“That’s different.” She said the words quickly, lashes dropping to screen her eyes. “You’re a client. I need to know in order to help you.”
A tiny flicker of anger surprised him. “Are you sure that’s not just a way of keeping yourself superior? You get to look at me like a dog you’re considering adopting, but the dog doesn’t have the same right.”
Answering anger flamed in her face. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t do any such thing. You can’t possibly compare my aunt to your family—”
She stopped, grimacing as if the words tasted bitter. She wrapped her arms around herself, curling into a protective ball.
He was going on instinct now, not sure what to do, but knowing he couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t let her keep hiding something that hurt so much.
“Family’s family,” he said. “Your aunt—”
“My aunt belonged to a cult.” She spat out the words. “I don’t think your family qualifies as that crazy, do you?”
“Maybe not.” Some of the pain seemed to have come out of her on the words. “A real cult, like those people who hang out in airports and beg?”
She shrugged. “Brother Joshua tried to dress it up in Christian terms, but that’s what it was.”
“Brother Joshua?”
“The leader of the so-called movement. Not that it ever really was a movement. He wasn’t charismatic enough for hordes of people to give up everything and follow him. Just a few angry, bitter souls like my aunt.”
He was feeling his way, wanting her to keep talking so that he could understand. “This Brother Joshua was active around here, was he?”
She nodded. “He took over a small country church whose parishioners had pretty much died out. He didn’t buy it, you understand. Just took it. Said the Lord would want him to have it for his work. That’s how he was about everything. Took what he wanted from those who were too gullible to know what they were doing.”
He remembered what she’d said about her great-uncle putting the property in trust. “That’s what you meant when you said your aunt would have given the farm away if she could.”
“She’d have handed everything she owned over to that man.” Her face twisted, but her words were even. “She took his word for every little aspect of our lives.”
“Your life, too.”
Nolie’s parents had abandoned her. Now it appeared that the refuge she’d found hadn’t been a refuge at all.
“Oh, yes.” Nolie took a deep breath, as if she needed more oxygen. “Brother Joshua had plenty of opinions on how to raise a child. Most of them involved punishment. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’ was his favorite scripture verse. It was probably the only one he knew.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak. Nolie’s matter-of-fact tone didn’t hide the pain underneath.
“They mistreated you.”
She shrugged. “Any sane person would call it child abuse, but there weren’t any people you’d call really sane in Brother Joshua’s little flock.” She rubbed her arms, as if just thinking about it chilled her. “I don’t know why I’m talking about it. I don’t, as a rule. It’s in the past. I survived.”
“You’re talking because I goaded you into it.” Amazing, that he could keep his voice so calm when he was raging inside about what had been done to her. “How long did it last? Didn’t anyone from the outside ever interfere?”
“Brother Joshua was good at claiming freedom of religion when anyone tried to look too closely at his practices.” She answered the second question first. “I ran away when I was sixteen. The authorities caught up with me eventually, but by the time they did, my aunt had died.”
She clasped her hands around her knees, rocking back and forth slightly. “Terrible, to have been glad about something like that, but all I could think was that no one would punish me again.”
He was pressing his hands against the rock so hard they’d grown numb. “What happened to Brother Joshua? Is it too much to hope he ended up in jail?”
She bent her head, her pale gold hair falling down to shield her face from his gaze. “I hope he eventually ended up somewhere a lot hotter than that. He faded out pretty quickly once he learned that the inheritance my aunt had promised him consisted only of her personal property. The land came to me.”
“I’m glad you got that, at least.”
She shrugged. “As I said, it’s over. I’m okay.”
Somehow he doubted that anyone who had gone through that could end up being completely okay. He wan
ted to touch her, to offer some comfort, but she was like a porcupine with its spines out. He touched the Bible instead.
“I’m amazed that you’re able to believe after an experience like that.”
“That’s what Claire always says, too, only in stronger terms.” She raised her face, smiling slightly, as if thinking of her friend brought her happiness. “The Bible was the only book my aunt allowed in the house, so I read it out of desperation. And I found a God Brother Joshua had never known—a God who offers unconditional love and mercy.”
His throat was almost too tight to speak, but he forced the words out. “I’m glad you found that comfort.”
She looked at him then, her face very serious. “I appreciated your mother’s invitation, but I don’t go to church. That cuts a little too close to the bad memories. I find God here.”
“Here.” He glanced around. Certainly this was a peaceful spot, but he couldn’t imagine staying at the place where she’d seen so much pain. “I’d have expected you to sell as fast as possible and get out.”
“Maybe I’m a throwback to that great-great-uncle of mine.” Her smile was less strained, as if telling her story had relieved that painful pressure inside her. “I love the land and the animals. They never let me down. I feel as if I’ve done good work here.”
She’d created happiness out of tragedy. Not many people could say that.
“Yes.” His voice was husky. “I’d say you’ve done very good work here.”
She turned toward him. “I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you.”
“I’m glad you did.” He was surprised to discover that was true.
“That really wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What was?” He suspected she needed to move to some more mundane subject in order to regain her composure.
“Well, the thing is, there’s a charity event the foundation is sponsoring on Friday. I’d love to get out of it, but I don’t have any choice about going, and I’m afraid they want you and Max to be there, too.”
She looked ridiculously apprehensive at the thought of his reaction. Somehow the complaint he’d intended to make about the foundation dinner seemed petty in comparison.
