Autumn's Shadow

by Lyn Cote

  Finally, Patsy sat down and looked around the table expectantly. "Jayleen," she said, "why don't you tell Mrs. Weaver and Ms. Turner what you want to say."

  Keely felt a spasm go through her. Jayleen looked like she was going to be sick. Penny looked like she was awaiting execution.

  Jayleen looked at Penny, and then her eyes slid to Keely and back to Penny again. "I talked with my social worker about Rachel."

  They waited.

  "She says," Jayleen began again, "that I need to decide if I want to try to get Rachel back before she gets much older. That the older she is, the harder it will be for her to leave her...to leave you, Mrs. Weaver."

  Patsy nodded, encouraging her granddaughter.

  "We've been afraid—" Penny cleared her throat—"that the social services office might decide to move her to a different foster home. We had started adoption proceedings.... When you returned, that was put on hold...."

  "I never wanted to lose my baby." Jayleen stared at the vinyl tablecloth covered with a pattern of golden fall leaves. "But I did. Then I thought I'd never see her again."

  "You tried to get Rachel to me," Patsy reminded her granddaughter. "How could you have known the car would blow up?"

  How could I have known how far Grady would go? Keely put both of her chilled hands around the hot mug of tea.

  Jayleen wiped a stray tear away. "I still have years of high school to finish and then . . ." The girl shrugged. "I want to help out at the clinic. Dr. Doug was telling me that they need nurses' aides and you need training for that."

  Another pause.

  "Go on, honey," Patsy encouraged.

  "I'm not going to seek custody of Rachel." Jayleen's eyes lifted but then immediately looked back down at the pattern on the tablecloth. "I think she should stay with you and Pastor Weaver."

  The words took Keely's breath away. Jayleen's pain lapping around her like cold water, Keely's own suffering deepened. Oh, Jayleen, I'm so sorry for you.

  "Jayleen," Penny said, "Bruce and I don't want to rush you into anything. We'd be happy to help you regain custody of your baby."

  Keely understood Penny's reluctance. How could anyone feel joy in the midst of the tragedy Jayleen had survived and must go on overcoming?

  Jayleen scraped her chair back. "No, I want you two to raise her. I don't want to mess up her life any more than I have already." The girl looked into Penny's face. "I could have gotten her killed." Jayleen's voice trembled, continuing to rise. "She could have been blown up in that car. Anything could have happened to her. I love her. I'll always love her, but I can't be her mother. I'd make a mess of it." The girl rushed from the room.

  They watched her go. Keely couldn't bring up any word of comfort to share.

  "Patsy," Penny said, "we don't want to rush her."

  "You're not. This has been heart-breaking for her and for me. I want that baby. I wanted my granddaughter to be able to raise her own child." The grandmother shook her head with sudden certainty. "But my granddaughter wants what's best for her baby. You'll raise Rachel like your own, and we'll know where she is and that she's safe. We'll watch her grow up right here. It's not like giving her away and never knowing. That would be the hardest part to me."

  "She's made this decision?" Keely asked finally. "What does her father say?"

  "We all told Jayleen that this was up to her. That we'd all help, but Rachel's her baby. She had to be the one to decide. Not us."

  "I just feel ...," Penny faltered. "I . . ."

  Patsy patted the pastor's wife's hand. "It's better for Jayleen to make this decision and get on with her life. She has thought and thought about what would be best for little Rachel—until I've seen her sick with thinking. She's made her decision. Now let's help her go through with it. There isn't a perfect answer to this situation, you see?"

  Penny nodded, still looking devastated. "I pray we will be able to help."

  Then Patsy turned over the latest Steadfast Times. The front page headline blazoned: "Turner Son to Be Charged with Arson."

  "Now I'm not bringing this up to hurt you, Keely," Patsy said. "But I won't say something behind someone's back that I won't say to their face. If your father hasn't got the message yet, he'd better. We're not going to stand for him trying to hush this up. Your brother's a danger to everyone, including himself."

  "But that's not Keely's fault," Penny countered.

  "No one in the county thinks that it is," the older woman agreed, reaching over to pat Keely's arm. "Nobody reasonable that is. If your father had any brains, he'd have listened to you. Everybody who's not just mean knows you've done your best."

  This was too much for Keely. She stood up. "I'll be going then. Penny, you and Bruce will make lovely parents for Rachel."

  Patsy tried to send a plate of cookies home with Keely. She managed to escape without them and fled, her own sorrow clogging in her throat. Outside in the cutting wind, Keely opened her car door and got in. Behind the wheel, she broke down, sobbing. The Weavers would be excellent parents for Rachel. But Jayleen would have to live with this decision for the rest of her life.

  Finally, Keely forced herself to drive away. Her eyes were swollen and her head hurt from thinking. Her emotions felt as though they'd been beaten and mangled. Maybe the right decision had been made for the baby. Who was she to judge? She focused on driving safely back home. That was all she could cope with now.

  At least now Jayleen was taking care of her daughter in the best way she thought she could. If only Keely's parents were doing that much for Grady. Her mother hadn't left her home even to visit Grady at the clinic. She just called Keely and wept on the phone. Keely had been shocked by her brother's lack of remorse and how much help he'd need to come back from this. This was something that might last a lifetime too.

  Keely sat in the back of the high-ceilinged courtroom feeling physically sick. Bandaged and in an orange jump suit, Grady was being arraigned on charges of arson. Their mother was still hiding at home. Keely wished she could have, too, but her conscience wouldn't let her leave her brother to face this with only their father at his side.

  The courtroom was packed. Watching the proceedings against a Turner had drawn a crowd, mostly retirees who looked grim. A few of them had nodded politely to her as she entered. Most glared at her father's back and whispered heatedly. Keely recalled Harlan's warning to her father about what the county thought of Grady. Would it have made any difference if he'd heeded Harlan then?

  Looking combative, her father sat behind Grady and their family attorney at the defense table, seemingly unaware of the hostile crowd. The bailiff called for all to rise as the black-robed judge entered. They all took their seats with a rustling of jackets and thudding of boot soles. It had snowed today.

  As the arraignment started, Keely tried to follow the legal procedure, but her own reaction to this awful moment interfered with her ability to comprehend it.

  Burke Sloan and Sheriff Durand were both in the courtroom. To give evidence? She remembered Burke's calm recitation of the facts against her brother at the clinic that night. How did her father expect to nullify Grady's confession in front of witnesses?

  In the glaring light of the large room, she gazed at Burke's profile, and she felt as though she were a different person. It was like she'd died and had been reborn with someone else's emotions. Just a week ago, she'd felt so close to Burke. Now she felt distant, removed. And her nightmares had gotten worse.

  Numbly, she waited for the grim-faced judge to charge her brother and set the trial dates. Grady had gotten lucky; this wasn't the judge who had released Walachek early. But now after much discussion between the lawyers, the judge agreed to a private conference in his chambers.

  Grumbling swept the gathering as Keely watched her father accompany Grady and their lawyer along with the district attorney through another doorway. Burke and Rodd followed too.

  Keely felt the eyes of everyone boring into her, and she could almost hear their thoughts: The fix must be i
n....Turner pulled some legal trick.... Do you think he bought off the judge? Her stomach clenched.

  A few minutes later, the bailiff came to her. "Ms. Turner, the judge wants you to come in too."

  "No, please ...I . . ."

  The man gestured her toward the door. "Don't keep the judge waiting, miss."

  Rising, she went to the door and knocked. Hearing permission to enter, she walked in. All faces turned to her.

  "Thank you for coming in, Ms. Turner," the judge said and indicated a chair for her. "I want you to hear what I'm going to say to your father and brother, since as a family member, this will affect you too."

  She sat down on a maroon leather chair, not making eye contact with her father. She nodded to the judge.

  "These charges are serious—," the judge began.

  Her father tried to interrupt, but his lawyer laid a hand on his shoulder. Her father subsided.

  "I don't want to go through a long court battle. I don't want to drag the Turner name through the mud. But something has to be done. Franklin, your son is a danger to this community and to himself."

  Again, her father tried to speak.

  The judge held up his hand. "Don't interrupt. Your family and mine have been in this county forever, so we both know that I'm trying to do what is best for everyone. We can go ahead and prosecute Grady and send him to a correctional facility. I don't want to do that. Though fire setting can be a seductive addiction, I'm hoping that he can be rehabilitated. Now, Franklin, do you want to get your son the help he needs, or do you want him incarcerated in a youth facility? He's still a minor, thank heavens, or I'd have very little latitude here. What do you say?"

  Their family lawyer spoke up. "What are you proposing?"

  "Grady needs more than just counseling. He needs to be committed to a private hospital that can meet his needs and better serve the needs of this community. Franklin, if you will send Grady to one of the facilities that the DA has in mind, I will give Grady a suspended sentence—on one condition."

  Tingling with surprise, Keely couldn't believe her ears.

  "What's the condition?" her father asked in a voice that was nearly a croak.

  "That he not be released until the DA and I are shown proof that he is no longer likely to offend again. We refuse to hush this up here and send him off to do the same elsewhere."

  "And if I refuse?" her father asked, his face red.

  "Then I will keep him in custody until trial. No bail. The community has made it quite clear that they don't want an arsonist on the loose. Popular opinion doesn't usually sway me, but in this case I agree. If your son goes to trial—given his admission of guilt—he will most likely be convicted and sentenced to a juvenile facility."

  "I need time." Her father's complexion had whitened.

  "You have until tomorrow."

  Keely wondered why she had been included in this. What would her father decide? Would he fight it or accept it? Knowing him, fighting would be more likely. The meeting ended Not wanting to have to deal with her father and his lawyer, she headed swiftly to the door.

  After leaving the judge's chambers, the family lawyer had detained Keely's father on the steps of the courthouse. That had given Keely the chance to drive off to the rear of the Black Bear Cafe. She sneaked in the back way and slid into a booth. If she went home or to the school, her father, who had been motioning for her to wait, would catch up with her. I can't face all this—any of this.

  The waitress came back with a pot of coffee and poured a cup for Keely. The scents of cinnamon rolls and buttered toast and bacon woke her stomach. Realizing that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch the day before, she ordered a late breakfast.

  Then from her purse she slipped out the Christmas card that she'd received this morning. Opening it, she studied it. The snowy New England scene on its front took her back to her days at college. She read the note from her friend on the inside again and then slid it back into its envelope. Maybe she should take advantage of her friend's offer. Holding her cup in her chilled hands, she closed her eyes.

  "Ms. Turner, can I talk to you?"

  Keely's eyes flew open. Walachek. No. She sat up straighter and started to slide out of the booth.

  "Please." He held up a hand. "I need help with Carrie."

  "You'll have to speak to social services about that."Keely stood up.

  "I did. I have. Lots of times and I've done everything. Help me. Please."

  She paused. The conversations around her had ebbed. Everyone had obviously noted Walachek approaching her. She'd come in the back way and had wanted to leave the same way, barely noticed. That, however, was not to be."Okay," she gave in and sat down, not wanting to make a scene.

  He sat down across from her. "I've done all the stuff I was supposed to. I went straight through anger management counseling. I started AA and I did that community service. But Carrie still won't speak to me. What do I do?"

  "Mr. Walachek, I don't know what to tell you." Why does everyone turn to me? I couldn't even help my brother. "Abuse has consequences."

  The man looked like he might cry. "I let everything fall apart after my wife died. I didn't drink too much until she got sick. Then I just couldn't leave it alone. The trailer was empty without her. How do I get Carrie to talk to me?"

  Keely pushed aside her coffee cup. "Have you talked to her aunt?"

  He nodded. "But she says she doesn't know how to get through to my girl either. My sister-in-law accepted my apology for what happened back in August." He shook his head. "She said that she hoped the Family Closet program would help Carrie, but . . ."

  But now it's crippled until we can get the insurance money and decide what to do about a new facility. Carrie wasn't the only one who needed the Family Closet. Children were going without winter coats this year. Keely's head ached. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

  Burke walked through the front door of the cafe.

  Keely panicked. She couldn't face him. She slid to the edge of the bench. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Walachek. I don't know what to tell you." Keely found it exhausting just forcing out each word. "Carrie has to see the need to change before she can make a change. We can want it for her, but she has to want it first. I wish I could do more."

  Dismal, dismal advice. How had she thought that opening a thrift shop could turn lives like Carrie's around? The girl was headed for disaster and even Carrie's own father could see it. And he was helpless to stop it. So am I.

  The waitress was talking to Burke and looking back toward Keely's booth. Burke turned and headed her way.

  Lord, please, can't everyone just leave me alone? I need time to think. I can't think. Keely considered making a run for the back door but gave up the idea. She'd been ducking Burke's calls all week. She'd have to face him here and now.

  "Walachek?" The one word was a clear challenge. Burke stood beside the booth. He said no more, simply stared at the man, waiting for an explanation.

  Walachek stood up, palms open. "I was just asking her for help with my daughter. I wasn't making any trouble." The man looked to Keely.

  "That's right," she agreed. "And I'm afraid I was unable to help him. Good luck, Mr. Walachek."

  "Will you ...would you ...talk to my daughter?" the man asked.

  "I have talked to her, Mr. Walachek, several times. She hasn't listened to me either." Keely gave him what she hoped was a sympathetic look. The man walked out the back door and Burke took his place across from her in the booth.

  "Do you think your father will do what the judge proposed?" Burke asked without preamble.

  Keely grappled with her flattened emotions. She shrugged. "I have no idea what my father will do."

  "You look like you haven't been sleeping well."

  The concern in his voice didn't ease her. It made her tighten up. "I'm fine," she lied.

  The waitress brought her breakfast. But Keely had lost her appetite. She took a sip of coffee, stalling.

  "I've been concerned about you. I want to h
elp you get through this."

  She stared at him. How could she explain how drained, how lifeless she felt?

  "Things should settle down now."

  His words came to her as though from a long way off. What's he saying? That everything will be fine now that her brother was found to be the guilty party? That everything's okay now that the Weavers are getting Rachel for good?

  "I'll be quiet and let you start eating." Burke gestured toward her untouched plate.

  She looked down at the pancakes and bacon. She thought of the Christmas card again. "I'm not hungry now."

  Burke moved forward, his hand reaching across the tabletop.

  She moved her hand out of his reach. If she let him touch her, she'd break into fragments and blow away.

  "Keely, you need a break. I'm worried about you. Won't you let me help you through this?"

  Tears filled her eyes. "I can't talk about it now." She slid out of the booth. "Stay and eat my breakfast. I'll call you."She rushed out the back door. She'd left her car in the alley, so she slipped inside and headed away. Burke stepped outside, but she drove by him.

  Lord, I don't feel like me. What's going to happen now?

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the next Sunday morning already deep into mid-December, Burke sat between Nick and Harlan in a rear pew of Steadfast Community Church. The pews were crowded as though people had come for comfort, solace after an autumn of fires, runaway gossip, and just plain shock.

  But the service which concerned the prophet Elijah had been a blur to Burke, just as the days after Grady's arraignment had been. Keely hadn't shown up in court the next day. The arrangements for a suspended sentence and Grady's transfer to a private institution had been carried out.

  Grady's complete shock over this turn of events had demonstrated just how disconnected the kid had been from reality. Grady had kept demanding that his father "fix this."But Franklin Turner had sat stolid and silent, unable to"fix" anything.