“Jessie Beanfield?” I said out loud.
The woman at the information desk typed in the name.
“She’s in room 3487.”
I returned the newspaper to the woman and took the elevator to the third floor. Jessie’s room was on the left toward the end of the hall. The door was closed. I knocked. There wasn’t an answer. I peeked inside.
Jessie was lying in bed with an IV in her arm and her eyes closed. I stepped closer and looked at her wristband. I could clearly see the name, Jessie Beanfield, with the date of admission beneath it.
“Jessie Beanfield,” I repeated softly.
Jessie’s eyes fluttered open. She touched her face with her free hand.
“They put me in a terrible place—,” she started.
“That you aren’t going back to.”
I leaned over and kissed her cheek as if she were one of the twins. Jessie’s eyes suddenly widened in fear.
“Sister Dabney,” she said. “The man in the blue shirt hit her in the head with his gun.”
I pressed my lips together for a moment to prepare myself.
“She’s dead.”
Jessie shut her eyes. “She told them I belonged to God, and they couldn’t take me.”
“I think she was right.”
Jessie opened her eyes. “I remember hearing your voice before I got in the ambulance. How did you find me?”
An aide arrived with Jessie’s breakfast. While she ate, I told her what we’d done. She listened soberly.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked when I finished.
“To answer that, I need the truth.”
Over the next few minutes, I leaned that she was fifteen years old and didn’t have any close relatives. She also told me about a metal box at the vacant lot where she’d stayed that contained more of the bearer bonds.
“How many of the certificates are there?” I asked.
“About nine or ten. What are they?”
“Bearer bonds issued by the German government. They’re legal, but occasionally used by criminals to transfer money so it can’t be traced. I need to get them and turn them over to the police.”
Jessie seemed more interested in what would happen to the charges against her.
“It will be sent to juvenile court and handled easily,” I answered. “How did you come up with the new name?”
“Whitewater sounded so much better than Beanfield. My father is dead, and I didn’t want Clay to find me or have to go back to live with my stepmother.”
“You’ll have to go back to Jessie Beanfield now.”
“Mrs. Fairmont told me your real name is Tammy Lynn, and you changed it when you came to Savannah.”
“That’s true, but it’s different with last names.”
“Do you think I can live with you and Mrs. Fairmont? I don’t want to go back to my stepmother.”
I couldn’t deny the pleading look in Jessie’s eyes.
“I’ll work on it if Mrs. Fairmont wants you to stay with us as soon as she gets out of the hospital.”
“She’s in the hospital?” Jessie asked, sitting up straighter in the bed. “Can I see her?”
“I’ll check with one of the nurses.”
Ten minutes later, Jessie was pushing her IV pole quickly down the hall toward the elevator.
“Slow down,” I said. “The wheels on your IV pole aren’t built for racing.”
We reached Mrs. Fairmont’s room. I let Jessie go in first, then followed close enough to see the reaction. The elderly woman was sipping coffee. When she saw Jessie, she almost dropped the cup. Jessie rushed toward the bed and they hugged. Jessie sat on the edge of the bed and held Mrs. Fairmont’s hand while I told the older woman about Sister Dabney. To Mrs. Fairmont, who had lost many friends, death was less a stranger. She turned to Jessie.
“She loved you, Jessie. And there’s no greater love than sacrificing your life for someone else.”
Jessie nodded.
Mrs. Fairmont continued, “I’ll see her before you do and tell her thank you.”
When it was time for me to leave, I prepared to return Jessie to her room.
“Please let me stay,” she begged.
“I’ll take responsibility for her,” Mrs. Fairmont said.
I hesitated.
“I’ll talk to the nurse on duty,” Mrs. Fairmont said. “Maybe Jessie can stay until it’s time for the doctor to check on her.”
When I left Jessie was sitting in a chair beside the bed reading Mrs. Fairmont’s stack of get-well cards to her.
THERE WAS A MAELSTROM OF ACTIVITY AT THE OFFICE. TWO TRUCKS from TV stations were parked outside. I remained in the car and called inside on my cell phone. Shannon answered.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In the car in the parking lot.”
“This place is swarming with reporters, and the phone’s been ringing off the hook.”
“Are Maggie and Julie there?”
“Yes, they’re in Maggie’s office.” Shannon paused. “Is it true what I read in the paper about the Dabney woman?”
“Yes. She was trying to protect Jessie.”
“I called my husband last night,” Shannon said, speaking slowly. “We talked on the phone for a couple of hours. I’m sorry I reacted so badly to Ms. Dabney—”
“She was used to people reacting to her that way,” I said. “The important thing is that whatever she told you is helping you now.”
“I think it will. Or at least it’s a start. Hold on. I’ll connect you with Maggie.”
“I’m here with Julie and have you on speaker,” Maggie said. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Stiff and sore but okay otherwise. I’m in the parking lot, but I’m not sure if I should get out of the car—”
“Tami, you’re a folk hero for ramming the bad guy’s car,” Julie cut in. “I told one of the reporters you learned to drive hauling moonshine in the mountains. Many a night you had to run the revenuers off the road to deliver a shipment.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“But I thought it.”
“What should I say to the reporters?”
“How much do you want to say?” Maggie asked.
“As little as possible. If they ask me about Sister Dabney, I’m going to cry.”
“Then tell them you can’t comment on what took place because it’s part of an ongoing criminal investigation.”
I got out of the car. The reporters were camped out in the reception area, making it look very small. I had the unusual experience of being instantly recognized by strangers.
“Let’s take it outside,” one of the lead reporters said.
“I’m going to be praying on the inside,” I whispered to Maggie as we flowed into the parking lot.
I used Maggie’s suggested response to the first question, but when a female reporter asked me about Jessie, I mentioned how people in Savannah like Julie and Mrs. Fairmont had reached out to help her, then made it clear that Jan Crittenden, even though she was a prosecutor, had gone beyond the call of duty to find a positive way to deal with a tough situation. When Sister Dabney’s name came up, I was able to keep my emotions in check and used the time to deliver a short eulogy based on Mrs. Fairmont’s reference to love and sacrifice at the hospital. Sister Dabney might not have a fancy funeral, but people on the evening news would know she’d lived life doing her best to help those who needed it the most. After the cameras were turned off and the newspaper reporters had asked their final questions, Maggie and Julie came over to me.
“That was beautiful,” Julie said without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “You shouldn’t have spouted those nice things about me, but Sister Dabney deserved everything good you said about her.”
“You couldn’t have been more articulate,” Maggie added. “I think God answered your prayer.”
“More than one,” I replied. “And many more than I deserve.”
25
IT SNOWED EVERY TEN YEARS
OR SO AT CHRISTMASTIME IN POWELL Station. On December 24, I awoke to fat flakes drifting down from a gray morning sky. I slipped out of bed and, standing at the bedroom window, watched the soft whiteness cover every imperfection in sight. I pressed my hand to the cold windowpane. The twins were still asleep. Once awake, they would end any chance to enjoy the snowy scene in peace.
Zach was sleeping on the daybed in the downstairs sewing room. Two days earlier, we’d been holding hands on a sunny beach in Southern California. I’d loved California and, a few hours after getting off the plane, stopped worrying that the ground beneath my feet was about to break off and fall into the ocean.
Halfway through a weeklong visit with Zach’s family, I overheard his mother tell his sister that she thought I was the nicest girl he’d ever brought home. Later, I asked Zach how many girls had preceded me. He smiled and told me he couldn’t remember because none of them counted.
The world of the Mays family was very different from Powell Station, but a common faith is the strongest bridge across any divide. And the gospel has the power to unite people from all points of the compass, even a girl from the mountains of Georgia with a family in a suburb of Los Angeles. One evening while sitting beneath a trellis covered in brilliant bougainvillea blossoms, Zach’s family enjoyed a time of fellowship as rich as any I’d experienced with my own family. From that point forward, I felt accepted, not just out of politeness, but with genuine affection.
I gently shook Ellie’s shoulder then whispered in her ear, “It’s snowing.”
She groggily opened her eyes and looked past my head.
“Snow!” she cried out.
“Ugh,” Emma grunted from her place on the bottom bunk.
I knelt down beside Emma’s head. “There are already a couple of inches of snow on the ground.”
Emma propped up on one elbow as Ellie hurtled from the top bunk to the floor with a thump and raced over to the window. In a few seconds Emma joined her.
“I want to tell Zach,” Ellie said, looking over her shoulder at me.
“Not in your pajamas. Get dressed first.”
In a flash, Ellie was off to the bathroom. Emma and I stayed behind. She continued to stare out the window.
“Are you going to play in the snow?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered, “but not like we used to. The last time it snowed Ellie and I spent more time going on a long walk than we did making a snowman.”
Ellie returned.
“Is that dress on backward?” I asked.
Ellie quickly inspected herself.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” I answered.
“That’s mean. While you’re up here being lazy, Zach and I are going to be out in the snow.”
Ellie left, and I heard her footsteps going down the stairs. The sewing room was across from my parents’ bedroom.
“I’m going to wake up Kyle and Bobby,” Emma said.
I took my time getting ready. Snow created a general excuse from most work around the house; however, the chickens didn’t stop laying eggs because of a change in the weather. When I went downstairs to the kitchen, Mama was fixing the morning pot of coffee.
“Add a little extra for me,” I said.
“You’ve started drinking coffee?” she asked in surprise.
“With almost as much cream as coffee, but it’s something Zach and I like to do. There’s a coffee shop in Savannah that’s a great place to talk. I know drinking coffee together has been something you and Daddy have enjoyed.”
“Your daddy is under the covers. It will take an extra-rich cup of coffee to get him out of bed.”
I put on an old coat, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and slipped on some work gloves. I didn’t look very glamorous, but it was perfect for visiting a chicken coop on a snowy morning. I grabbed the pail we used to gather the eggs. When I stepped outside, I could hear Zach and Ellie yelling at each other around the corner of the house. I yawned. The flight from the West Coast the previous day had left me feeling a little disoriented. It was my first experience with jet lag.
I walked across the thin blanket of snow, regretting that I had to mar its perfect beauty with my footsteps. I reached the henhouse. Chester, the rooster, didn’t come out of the house for his normal showy bluster of bravado. I found him inside the coop, scratching around the floor in the far corner of the little building. He ignored me. The hens loudly protested my invasion of their privacy, but once the eggs were gone they quickly settled down.
On my way back to the kitchen, I took a detour around the corner of the house. Zach and Ellie were attempting to have a snowball fight. The new snow was dry and fell apart when they tried to pack it into balls. The clumps they managed to press together disintegrated into powder a few feet after being thrown. Zach looked at me with a big smile.
“Good morning!” he called out. “Doesn’t this remind you of Southern California?”
“Only the inside of your snow globe.”
Zach had shown me a snow globe he’d received as a Christmas present when he was a little boy. His mother brought it out every year during the holidays so he could shake it, creating a pretend blizzard.
Ellie used my arrival to launch a surprise attack. Grabbing a handful of snow, she ran up behind Zach and dumped it down the back of his jacket. Zach turned, chased her across the yard, and took his revenge. I returned to the kitchen to clean the eggs.
Mama was placing strips of bacon in a large skillet. I stood at the sink and washed the eggs in vinegar.
“Let’s have scrambled eggs,” Mama said. “Your daddy thinks you make them better than anyone.”
I took more eggs from the refrigerator and broke them into a metal bowl.
“How is Mrs. Fairmont spending the holidays?” Mama asked.
“Making it as special for Jessie as she can.”
“How is she doing in school?”
“She had a good first semester at school, especially in English. She’s doing great at the house, too. I even think Mrs. Bartlett likes her.”
“And Jessie’s stepmother?”
“Can’t be found. She moved soon after Jessie ran away, and there aren’t any close relatives interested in seeking custody. As part of Jessie’s twelve months’ probation, the juvenile court judge ordered her to stay with Mrs. Fairmont. I can’t imagine anyone happier with her punishment. By the time it ends next year, Jessie will be starting her senior year in high school.”
“What about Vince?”
“He’s with his family in Charleston. Zach and I talked to him before the trip to California. I know he’s disappointed, but I believe the three of us can be friends.”
“Let Zach take the lead in that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And pray that Vince will meet the person who’s right for him.”
Daddy came into the kitchen and raised his eyebrows when he saw me with a cup of coffee in my hand.
“It’s Zach’s fault,” I said. “He’s driven me to drink.”
“That’s one thing he left out when we talked last night.”
“You spent time together after I went to bed?”
“Yes,” Daddy replied. “We stayed in the front room for a while. He wasn’t sleepy.”
The eggs reached the point of fluffy perfection. Mama sent Bobby outside to retrieve Zach and Ellie. When they entered, Ellie’s cheeks were rosy bright.
“I think it’s getting colder,” Zach said, slapping the snow from his gloves into the utility sink near the rear door.
“That’s what the weather folks predicted,” Mama said as she placed the last strip of cooked bacon on a platter.
THE SNOW ON THE GROUND DIDN’T CHILL OUR APPETITES. AFTER Daddy prayed a blessing, there wasn’t much talking for a few minutes. Instead of biscuits, Mama had toasted slices of homemade bread and placed jars of jelly made the previous summer in the center of the table. Zach and I sat across from each other. He focused on the food; I was acutely aware of his every
movement.
“What happened with the case that got you on TV?” Kyle asked. “I found the news report on the Internet and showed it to some of the guys in my dorm.”
“It’s scheduled for trial early next year unless the defendants plead guilty.”
“Will you be a witness?” Emma asked Zach.
“Maybe.”
Ellie turned to me. “You could explain how you solved the secret code. After you showed us how it worked, Emma and I practiced using it. No one else in our Sunday school class has figured it out.”
“Please pass me the butter and stop passing notes in Sunday school,” Mama said.
After breakfast the entire family went outside. The snow continued to fall, but it resisted all efforts to form balls. Our attempt at a snowman resembled a mound, not a man. Later, we went inside, and Mama fixed hot chocolate. While I beat the whipped cream, Zach sat beside me on one of the kitchen stools.
After we finished drinking our chocolate, Zach asked me, “Would you like to go for a walk?”
“May we go?” the twins asked in unison.
“Not this one,” Mama said. “Zach and Tammy Lynn need times together when you’re not along to chaperone.”
“I’ll take both of you on a walk later today,” Zach promised.
I bundled up in a warm coat and wrapped a scarf around my neck.
“Where should we go?” Zach asked when we stepped outside. “I don’t want to get lost in the snow.”
“Putnam’s Pond.”
“The place where I was attacked by the crazed catfish?”
“Only because you didn’t know how to pick one up.”
The well-worn path that linked our house to the pond was hidden by snow. Zach took my hand in his as we walked beneath the trees.
“I liked one part of our walks on the beach much better,” I said, slightly squeezing Zach’s hand. “We weren’t wearing thick gloves.”
We came out of the trees. The falling snowflakes didn’t disturb the water on the pond, which was mirror-still. We stood in silence to admire the beauty.
“Do you want to walk around the pond?” I asked.
Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love Page 35
