by Arlene James
He moved to the door, saying, “I’m going to find me a bite to eat. Then we’ll talk again.” He wagged a finger at her. “You think on it, and then you’ll know I’m right.”
With that, he went out the door, leaving her to fall to her knees in silent, frenzied supplication.
“I’m telling you, it’s a wonder they didn’t cart her off in a straitjacket,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Wailing and screeching. I mean, okay, it was a shock. The man was dead.” Eddie shuddered. “Falling like that.” He bounced his shoulders up and down as if shaking off the willies. “Let that be a lesson to you, hey? Don’t stop on an overpass to help some chick change a flat. I mean, call a wrecker, for pity’s sake. Right? Am I right?”
From his seat on the edge of one of the black leather couches in the front room, Holt traded a significant look with his grandfather, ignoring Eddie’s question—and everything else about the man that he could. Holt feared that if he paid too much attention to Cara’s brother, he’d rearrange Eddie’s face for him.
“So you’re telling us that Cara’s in-laws had her committed because of her grief over her husband’s death?” he probed.
“Well, no, not right away. She went into the clinic willingly at first.”
“At first.”
“Yeah, you know, because of the shock.”
“Of her husband’s death.”
“That and finding out she didn’t have any place to live, I guess.”
“No place to live?” Hap asked, tilting his rocking chair forward. “Why wouldn’t she have anyplace to live?”
“Because the house belonged to the Elmonts,” Eddie said, as if it were the only sane assumption.
Holt bowed his head, remembering what she’d said about that the day he’d taken her out to his place. She’d been so impressed by what he’d built for himself, what no one could take away from him. When he thought about how hard she’d fought to claim that little kitchenette out back for her and Ace…He swallowed and sucked in a deep, calming breath.
“Look, she’s my sister and all,” Eddie went on in that insufferably reasonable tone of his, “but you can understand why the Elmonts want custody of their grandson. It’s a wonder they didn’t cart her off in a straitjacket that day, and it’s not like they wouldn’t let her ever see Ace again.”
Holt tamped down his temper. “Uh-huh.”
“Between you and me,” Eddie went on, sliding to the edge of his seat and leaning forward, “there’s a reward. Twenty-five grand. I wouldn’t bring it up, but you’ve been so good to her, hiring her off the street and all. And after the way she’s had you on—Cara Jane Wynne, hoo, boy—you ought to have something for your trouble.” He sat back and crossed his legs, pinching the crease in his slacks. “I’ll hook you up with that. Be glad to do it.”
“And what about your sister?” Hap demanded, clearly wondering if he’d heard right.
“Don’t worry about her,” Eddie counseled. “I’ll negotiate a generous settlement for her.”
“In return for custody of Ace,” Holt said, his temper beginning to slip.
“They’ll send her back to that clinic,” Hap declared, looking to Holt.
“She’ll be well taken care of,” Eddie confirmed.
Holt pushed up to his full height. “I see.”
Eddie smiled. “I knew you’d get it. Cara would, too, if she was in her right mind.”
“There’s just one thing I don’t understand,” Holt said.
“What’s that?”
“How is it, with everything that she’s been through, Cara turned out to be so sweet and hardworking and good,” Holt asked, calmly reaching down to yank Eddie up by his shirt collar, “while you became such a creep?”
“Hey!” Flailing his arms, Eddie resisted only minimally as Holt propelled him toward the door.
Hap, bless him, rocked up to his feet and hobbled swiftly across the room. “Here, let me help you.” He shoved open the door, grinning at Holt as he thrust Eddie through it. “Interesting to meet you, Mr. Sharp,” Hap called as the door swung closed. “Real interesting. What do we do now?” he asked Holt, ignoring Eddie’s indignant shouts.
Holt glanced at the door. “You mean, since we can’t give Eddie Sharp the beating he deserves?”
“More’s the pity,” Hap grumbled. He shook his head. “Poor girl. She can’t fight folks like that on her own.”
Holt grinned. “Which is surely why God gave Ty all that money.”
“And gave us Ty!” Hap added, laughing. He pulled himself up straight.
“I’ll go find Cara while you call him,” Holt said, heading for the apartment.
Hap turned toward the office, chuckling. “Them Elmonts just think they got money.”
“And Eddie Sharp isn’t.” Sharp, that was. In fact, unlike his sister, Eddie Sharp couldn’t have been much duller.
He found her on her knees, weeping. Pulling her up, he sat her on the couch, dried her tears and sat beside her.
“Where’s Eddie?” she asked, sniffing.
“On his way to California by now, if he knows what’s good for him.”
She scoffed. “Eddie always knows what’s good for him. But what makes you think he’d leave?”
“I threw him out.”
She goggled at him. “You did what?”
“Threw him out. It’s the least I could after I led him right to you,” he muttered.
“Don’t blame yourself for that,” she said, wincing. “You wouldn’t have gone there if I hadn’t lied to you. Thank you for getting rid of him, by the way.”
“Actually, Hap helped. He opened the door.”
Her jaw dropped. When Holt told her what Eddie had said, though, she began crying again. What could he do but put an arm around her?
“No, no. It’s all right. I only want to hear your side of the story now.”
She told him in fits and starts between tears and fortifying breaths. They had delivered the news of Addison’s death in one breath and told her that she would have to leave her home in the next. Ace, they had said, could stay with them. Tired from having struggled through the night alone with a colicky infant, Cara had simply come apart.
“I couldn’t think, couldn’t take it all in.”
Holt shook his head and pulled her close against his side. “Who could blame you?”
She had gone of her own accord with the doctor summoned by her in-laws, and that, she said, had been her first mistake. “I thought it would appease them and give me somewhere private to get over my grief while I figured out what to do.”
They’d brought a nurse to care for Ace. It hadn’t occurred to her that they meant to keep him, until her “temporary respite” had turned into an actual commitment.
“They told me that I had no choice, that it would look better if I signed the papers rather than forced them to petition the court on my behalf. I decided to go along, thinking I’d get back home to my son sooner that way.”
“So you essentially committed yourself for treatment,” Holt surmised.
“Yes. Later, when I was served with papers saying that the Elmonts had filed for full custody of Ace, I realized what a mistake I’d made.”
Her protests had only made matters worse.
“If I gave in to my anger, they told me I was behaving unreasonably. If I wept, they concluded I was depressed. When I begged, they essentially patted me on the head and told me to concentrate on ‘getting better.’”
“And meanwhile, the Elmonts had your son.”
Eventually Cara had learned to play the game, to give the staff at the private hospital what they wanted in order to “progress.” She’d finally won supervised visits with her growing son, and then, thanks to an astute and sympathetic social services caseworker, weekends and holidays spent with him at the Elmont home. But the deck had been stacked against her, and with no financial resources to enable her to fight via the courts, Cara had done the only thing she could do; she’d run.
“I stashed wh
at clothing I could for the two of us, whatever wouldn’t be missed.”
Holt chuckled and shook his head. “No wonder you showed up outfitted for the summer. What I don’t understand is how you managed to fake your identity.”
It seemed simple when she explained it. “I’d once overheard Addison mention a man in Oregon who could provide fake documents. So that’s where I headed first.”
In an unguarded moment, she’d taken Ace, jumped into the minivan that the Elmonts had deemed appropriate for a mother and driven north. Once there, she’d sold the van and used the money to buy a used car and false documents.
“My husband did me two favors,” she said. “Three, counting Ace.”
“He told you where to get a driver’s license and Social Security card with your aunt’s name on them,” Holt surmised.
Nodding, she added, “And he put the minivan in my name. It wasn’t cool enough for him to own, you see. Oh, he acted all magnanimous about it, pretended that buying it was all his idea, but I knew the Elmonts had purchased it as a reward for us providing them with a grandchild.”
Armed with a new identity, she’d struck out for Oklahoma, the only haven she’d ever truly known. Realizing that Eddie would surely think to look for her around Duncan, she’d chosen Eden, based on its name alone.
“Just picked it out on a map. How stupid was that?”
“Not at all,” Holt told her. “I suspect God was guiding you even then.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, shaking her head. “I just couldn’t let the Elmonts raise my son. He’d turn out just like his father, dancing to the Elmont tune, willing to do anything for a buck, building his life on shallow image and foolish ideas of success.”
“You did the right thing,” Holt told her.
She looked at him in surprise. “You think so?”
“Absolutely.”
She stared at him for several moments before giving her head a decisive nod. “My one regret, really, is that I have to do it again.”
He pulled back a little, frowning down at her in confusion. “Do what again?”
She turned woeful eyes up to him. “Surely you see that I have no choice. I have to disappear before the Elmonts get to us.”
“No,” he said, quite calmly, he thought.
“I can’t let them take Ace!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet.
“Of course you can’t,” Holt agreed, rising to face her.
“But how can I fight them?”
“We,” Holt corrected. “The question is, how can we fight them? And the answer is, with every resource at our disposal.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“Hate you? Of course I don’t hate you.” He watched hope blossom in those soft gray eyes before they slowly filled with tears again. “It’s okay,” Holt promised. “It’s all going to work out.”
“It’s not that,” she squeaked.
“Then what is it?”
She swiped at the tears streaming down her face, and choked out, “Grover.”
“What about Grover?”
“I’m ready,” she managed, gripping his sleeve. “I’m finally ready to say that prayer.”
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Holt pulled out his cell phone. He couldn’t be certain what this was about, but he had the feeling that Grover would know. As for himself, he had no doubt that he’d do anything she asked of him from now on, importune Ty on her behalf, summon the pastor, pray the moon down right out of the sky, whatever she needed.
In a way, he felt an immense relief. The secrets had been uncovered, and knowing why she’d done what she had, he couldn’t fault her. Indeed, he applauded her courage and initiative. Yes, he feared for her, too, but he trusted that right and truth would win out, with God’s help, and surely God was with them.
Cara might not think so now, but Holt would forever believe that God had guided her eyes the day she’d perused that map and let her gaze settle on Eden. He had no doubt at all himself now. He should have trusted, the very first day that she’d walked into the place, that she was the answer to all his prayers.
Grover arrived within minutes. Cara and Holt barely beat him to the lobby. She went at once to her knees, so anxious was she to unburden herself fully at last, barely noticing when Hap handed Holt the house phone. With Grover and Hap beside her, she spilled her sins at God’s feet, begging His forgiveness. She dared not ask for His help, after all that she’d done. It was enough that Holt and Hap seemed willing to forgive her and lend their aid.
She still couldn’t believe that, in the end, she wouldn’t have to pack up and flee with her son. Eddie would be back, and the Elmonts wouldn’t be far behind him. But she wouldn’t think of that just now. Nothing mattered just then but unburdening her heart and, at long last, getting right with God. The rest could wait. For a bit.
After several minutes of conversation with Grover and then more prayer, during which she did ask Jesus into her heart, vowing her belief and acceptance, Grover tried to give her reason for hope.
“You’re not alone now, Cara. Never again. And you need not have waited. God knows your heart, honey. He knows you acted out of fear and concern. Even now the Holy Spirit is lifting up your troubles to the heavenly Father with groans too deep for simple words. He’ll work this out. You’ll see.”
“He already is,” Holt announced, appearing in front of her. He squatted at her feet, bringing himself eye level with her as she sat on the couch between Hap and Grover. “I just got off the phone with Tyler. He’ll have an attorney for us in the morning.”
Cara put a hand to her head, teetering on the edge of relief so great it seemed unbelievable on one hand and a world of all-too-familiar concern on the other. “I—I can’t pay a lawyer.”
“Not to worry,” Holt stated flatly.
Cara shook her head. “You don’t understand. The Elmonts have money, enough to make it very, very expensive to fight them.”
Holt just smiled. “You don’t understand. Tyler says he can’t contribute more than a couple million to start, but that we should give him a few days.”
“A couple million!” Cara yelped.
Holt shook his head. “Personally, I don’t think it’s going to take anything like that, but let’s talk to the attorney before we reign him in. Okay?”
Several seconds ticked by before she could wrap her mind around what was happening, and even then she couldn’t quite believe it. “But why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would Tyler do such a thing?”
Holt traded looks with Hap, who rasped, “Why, because he can. What else is all that money for, after all, if not to do good?”
“But why do this for me?” she persisted.
“Because we asked him to,” Holt said bluntly.
“But I lied to you!” she argued. “I used you.”
“I don’t see how you used us,” Hap rasped, shaking his head. “You’ve done more than your fair share of work around here, more even than what we hired you for.”
“As for the other,” Holt said, “you only did what you felt you had to do. No fault in that.”
Stunned, Cara could only gape at him for long moments, and then she began to sob again, too grateful for words. She knew that the nightmare had not ended, only taken an unexpected turn, but to her everlasting relief, no one even mentioned calling a doctor.
Chapter Sixteen
H olt turned the truck into a small, old-fashioned gasoline station. Flanked by a sheet metal fence meant to conceal a salvage yard and boasting only two pumps and a single garage bay, the circa 1950s building bore the title of Froggy’s Gas & Tires. The place looked closed, however, and Cara had a difficult time believing that Holt had bullied her out into the cold just to show her where she could buy gas for her old car.
“What is going on?” she asked, the tension of the past two days making her tone more sharp than she’d intended.
“Distraction,” Holt answered, driving right past t
he station and across the lot to a small clapboard house beyond. The light above the uncovered stoop came on as the truck drew to a halt. Holt killed the engine and shifted sideways in his seat, facing Cara. “Froggy and Kelly Priddy are friends of mine. You met them briefly at the Watermelon Patch.”
“Froggy?”
“It’s a nickname, but he prefers it to his given name of Filmore. He helped me fix your car, by the way.”
“And we’re here because of that?”
“We’re here because we’ve been invited over, and I thought you could use the distraction, so I accepted.”
Cara didn’t know whether to be touched by Holt’s concern for her state of mind or indignant at his high-handedness. Before she could decide what her reaction would be, the door of the tiny, hip-roofed house opened and a man appeared in the doorway. Squat and lipless, he’d obviously earned his unusual nickname by appearance, but the effusiveness of his greeting instantly endeared him to Cara, who set aside her irritation and followed Holt’s lead by getting out of the car. Froggy jogged across the square stoop and down the steps to pound the much taller Holt on the back.
“Come on in out of the cold! Kelly’s heated some cider. Got them fat little cinnamon sticks in it and everything.”
He bounded back up the steps and into the house. Holt waited until Cara reached him, then climbed the three steep steps at her side and ushered her inside. Kelly Priddy met them with steaming cups containing the aforementioned cinnamon sticks. As plain as her tidy living room with its white walls and nondescript brown furnishings, Kelly stood perhaps an inch or two taller than her squat husband, her straight, light brown hair flowing over her plump shoulders. The bangs gave her a girlish air even before she giggled, showing front teeth with a slight gap between them.
In short order, Cara found herself seated next to Holt on the sofa while Froggy took the only chair and Kelly parked herself on the matching ottoman to one side. The television played softly in the background while they sipped their cider and chatted. Cara took the opportunity to thank Froggy for working on her car.
