In Plain Sight (2 page)

An old car. Getting ever older. Like me. Both showing our age and dents.

Okay, enough with the pity party,
I decided, annoyed with myself.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
True, as the years have shown me. And the Lord always lives up to his promise never to forsake us.
But I could use some help
with details here, Lord. Any suggestions?

A cruise? With the gray rain drizzling down, sea and sunshine beckoned. Yet a cruise would severely strain my limited budget and not put me out of reach of the Braxtons for more than a couple of weeks.

Take refuge with my young friends, police detective Matt “Dix” Dixon and his new bride, Haley? They’d invited. And they’d successfully hidden me out to protect me for weeks before the trial. But they had a life to live, and not one on which I wanted to intrude.

Sell the house, pick up, and move far, far away?

Probably the most effective long-term solution, but the thought of abandoning my home forever gave me a jolt inside. Surely so drastic a step wasn’t necessary! And it would also be too time consuming. Selling the house and moving could take months, and I needed to get away—now.

I heated leftover spaghetti in the microwave for supper, washed up the dishes, and was just settling down in front of the TV when the phone rang. I considered not answering it. My good neighbors the Margollins were off in their motor home now, and Dix and Haley were visiting her parents. I couldn’t think of anyone except another telemarketer likely to call, and I was not in the market for vinyl siding or windshield repair.

Yet someone with my “mutant curiosity gene,” as Dix once grumpily termed it, is genetically incapable of
not
answering a ringing phone.

DeeAnn spoke before I even had a chance to say hello. “Aunt Ivy, Mike just got home, and he has the most wonderful idea! You can come live in the house even if we’re not going to be here!”

“Really?”

“Of course. It’s perfect. We don’t want to sell the house yet, not until we know how things work out in Hawaii—”

“You could rent it out. It’s a nice big house, right there beside the lake. It should bring a good rental price.”

“I know. But we’re concerned that renters might not take care of things. And if you live here I can just leave a lot of this stuff and not worry about it. Your being here will be a big help in this move.”

I suspected she might be exaggerating the “help” factor, but I felt a huge swoop of relief. “That sounds great!”

Thank you, Lord.
Even after all these years I’m still sometimes surprised at how fast and efficiently he can solve problems.

“There’s just one thing. Not exactly a
drawback
, but—”

“Mother!” I heard Sandy wail in the background.

“And you don’t have to do it, of course,” DeeAnn added hastily. “It won’t make any difference.”

“Umm,” I said, carefully noncommittal.

“The thing is, as I mentioned earlier, Sandy would rather not change schools this far along in the year. She’d like to stay here with you until school lets out.”

Shock waves. I didn’t want to hesitate. I love my grandniece Sandy. She’s bubbly and fun and smart and dependable, a committed Christian. I enjoy her. But she is a teenager, and what do I know about the current teenage generation? “What do you think of the idea?” I asked cautiously.

“I have to admit, I find it a little scary.”

“Scary?” Not reassuring. “Scary how?”

“Scary for you. Everyone knows teenagers are the scourge of the universe. Scary for Sandy. She’s never been away from us for more than a couple weeks at summer camp. And scary for us too. We’ve just gotten used to Rick and Rory being gone, and then to leave Sandy behind …” Her voice wobbled.

“It’s less than three months until school lets out for the summer,” I pointed out. “It’s not as if you’re looking at a permanent empty nest yet.”

“Yes, that’s true. And not having to cope with a mid-year school transfer would make the move easier for us too.” Ever the woman to whip away the clouds and polish the silver lining, DeeAnn suddenly turned upbeat. “Hey, it might even be fun. Just the two of us, like being newlyweds again!”

Noise in the background. Sandy gagging at the thought of her parents as playful newlyweds?

“But it’s just fine if you’d rather not,” DeeAnn repeated. “We want you to come and live here as long as you want, no matter what. Why don’t you think about it and let us know in a day or two?”

DeeAnn is too good and generous a woman to be resentful or insulted no matter what my answer. A no wouldn’t change our relationship or their offer of hospitality.

Yet, with my first jolt of shock absorbed, I peered a little further into the situation. As a librarian and Sunday school teacher, I’d always enjoyed children. And I’ve never wanted to be isolated in some antiseptic, no-kids-allowed system. Sandy was mature enough that it wouldn’t be like a babysitting job.

What do you think, Lord?

I’ve never been on the receiving end of advice chiseled into stone tablets by the Lord. No sonorous voice has ever boomed in my ear and told me exactly what to do in any given situation. Which, I must admit, I’ve sometimes wished would happen. But somehow the Lord has usually managed to guide me, and just now I had the definite feeling this was the way to go.

“I’d love to have Sandy stay with me,” I said firmly.

“Really? Aunt Ivy, that’s wonderful. You’re a jewel. I’ll tell her—”

Sound of a small scuffle, then Sandy’s victorious voice as she claimed the phone. “Hey, Aunt Ivy, we’ll be almost roomies! We’ll have a great time
.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I accidentally bumped into this Internet chat room of old—” Abrupt break while Sandy apparently considered a tactful rephrasing. “This chat room of senior citizens, and I’ll show it to you, and you can meet all these interesting men. One of them has a yacht!”

I’m afraid I have a strong suspicion of Internet males bearing yachts, but we could discuss that later.

“Are you sure about Sandy staying?” DeeAnn interrupted.

“Absolutely.”

“She’ll have strict instructions that she’s to help with the cooking and housework. That she isn’t to fill the house with herds of noisy teenagers. That she has to keep the same curfew she has when we’re here. That the rock band can come over only when and if you say it’s okay. That you aren’t some full-time chauffeur for her. That just because Skye wears all that makeup and those outrageous outfits doesn’t mean Sandy can. That—”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I cut in hastily. Much more of this list of eye-opening possibilities for errant teen behavior and I’d be thinking the Braxtons looked like the safer alternative.

“Will you be able to get here before we leave? If not, I’m sure Sandy can stay with someone for a few days.”

“I’ll be there by the end of the week.”

Yet there was one other thing. I’d convinced myself that staying with DeeAnn and Mike wouldn’t put them in any danger, that even the hostile Braxtons wouldn’t gallivant all the way down to Arkansas to do me in. Especially if they didn’t know where I was. Mike was also a big guy not even the Braxtons were likely to outsmart or push around. But if it was just Sandy and me there alone …

By then I really wanted Sandy to stay. But Mike and DeeAnn, and Sandy too, had a right to know that the possibility of danger existed, so they could judge for themselves if they wanted her to be with me. Or, for that matter, if they even wanted me in the house.

“Are you still there, Aunt Ivy?” DeeAnn asked, and I realized the silence had stretched to an awkward length.

“I’m here.” Finally I said, “There’s a … detail I need to talk to both you and Mike about.”

DeeAnn must have heard the worry in my voice, because she immediately said, “Mike can get on the other phone.”

So Mike did that, and I explained everything about Drake Braxton’s threat and, even though the police hadn’t come up with any definite proof, the strong probability that he or his clan had something to do with my house fire.

“You mean you’re on some kind of hit list with these people?” Mike asked, sounding astonished. An understandable attitude, I suppose. How many little old ladies with possum-gray hair wind up on a homicidal hit list?

“Even though the Braxtons do have this hostile attitude, I honestly don’t think they’ll come down to Woodston after me. I’m hoping they’ll figure running me out of town is sufficient.”

Finally Mike said, “Let us think about this and do some checking, and we’ll call you back, okay?”

I spent the night berating myself. I never should have involved them in this. I should have simply packed myself off to a cheap rental in the middle of nowhere and hidden out for a few months. Why hadn’t I thought of that in the first place? In the morning I got out Harley’s old road atlas and started studying places out West with names such as Remote, Lizard Valley, and NoWhere.

When the phone rang I was prepared to hear Mike say, in a diplomatic way, of course, that they’d decided to take Sandy with them and rent the house out. I figured that by now, any renters, even people with eight dogs, a collection of junk cars, and a taste for barbecuing possum in the fireplace, would look preferable to one LOL on some killer/arsonist’s hit list.

But what Mike said was, “Okay, we’ve talked to an acquaintance in the county sheriff’s department, Sgt. Yates, and he got in touch with some contacts up there in Missouri. He says that Drake Braxton has big legal problems with his construction and land development business. There’s a criminal negligence charge hanging over him, and the definite possibility of prison time. So he’s probably too deep in his own problems to worry about hunting you down and getting revenge for helping convict his brother.”

“Which doesn’t mean he won’t make time for a little roadkill action on the side. And there’s the rest of the Braxton clan to worry about too.”

“That’s possible, of course. But we’ve also contacted a security company, and they’re coming this afternoon to install a good alarm system. If you’re careful not to leave a trail behind for the Braxtons to follow—”

“I won’t! I intend to make it look as if I’ve disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Good. So we think the danger is minimal.”

“What does Sandy think? Is she scared?”

“Sandy loves the idea.” Mike sounded mildly exasperated with his adventurous daughter. “She’s already thinking about all these
Home Alone
–type schemes in case the bad guys show up. I don’t think we could drag her away now.”

“I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

“I think she figures she’ll take good care of you. Not that we’d consider doing this at all if we thought there was really any danger.”

I put in a forwarding address at the post office and arranged to have the phone, electricity, and water disconnected. I decided I wouldn’t arrange for yard upkeep. I’d just let the place look abandoned, like the other empty houses on Madison Street. The city officials might get up in arms about this eventually, but hopefully I’d be home before that.

I followed the advice I’d given DeeAnn about using moving time to get rid of excess baggage. Out went polyester pants that refused to wear out and apparently intended to march into eternity with me. Shoes so pointy-toed they’d fit into keyholes. A dark suit with shoulder pads large and square enough to deter a halfback tackle.

On the last morning, I left a noncommittal note on the Margollins’ back door and sent an equally vague note to Dix and Haley. I didn’t want them to have the responsibility of actually knowing where I was in case the Braxtons pressured them.

I took a final tour through the house. I got teary in the kitchen where I’d baked Harley’s favorite pot roast and apple cobbler so many times, and real tears flowed in the bedroom Harley and I had shared for so many years.

The house already looked sad and forlorn when I scooted into the T-bird and started the engine. A window blind drooped like a tired eyelid, and the windows needed washing.

Good. I wanted the Braxtons to think I was gone for-ever.

Although this was, I assured myself as I backed out the driveway, only a temporary move. I just wished it didn’t feel so much like a permanent good-bye.