Retribution (24 page)

“They're called the invisible population for a reason,” Bill stated. “We don't notice them so we don't have to do anything about them, or more often because they blend in to the environment.”

“Do you always have a sermon after the meal?” the woman asked.

“Almost always. The local pastors volunteer, and some of the local men take turns too. It isn't hard to find someone to share their faith.” Bill grunted. “What's hard is coming up with something that's relevant. Words don't mean much to these men.”

“That's why our presence is so important,” Sandra added. “We're as much the gospel to them as the words from the pastor.”

“More, I would say,” Bill added.

“Well, I'll come back again, next time our church volunteers,” the woman said.

Sandra gave her a hug. “We appreciate it.”

As the volunteers headed out the back door to the parking lot, Bill switched off the kitchen lights. “Everyone done in the clinic?”

“I'll go check, and get the lights back there. Meet you in the parking lot.” Sandra walked down the hall, her hips swaying slightly with each step.

Bill stared after her. He had delayed going back to Ohio at the end of the summer so he would be around to help when Trina delivered his soon-to-be grandchild. But there had been more to his decision.

Sandra tugged at his heart. Nancy had been dead over fifteen years now, but still the feeling of being unfaithful remained. He wanted a wife, had prayed for a mother for Trina, but he wondered if he could really love another woman as he had loved Nancy. And if he couldn't, cultivating a relationship when he doubted the strength of his love was wrong. And yet, he looked forward to being with Sandra. She had become entwined in his life, as had little Jimmy.

And now he couldn't leave if he wanted to.

So far Lillian seemed to be exactly what she said—a Midwestern woman with a tragic past.

But fear put him on alert when around her. Sometimes strong, other times not so much. He had tried to analyze the feelings of danger to determine a pattern, but there didn't seem to be any. Sometimes when she was gone, the sensation of imminent danger almost bent him over. Other times the feeling hit when she was present, like at the Friday night meals. Never when just the two of them were together. And the Ohio house created another complication. When had his simple life become so complex? He scratched his head as he walked toward the car.

Light escaped from the windows in the back of the building and created puddles in the dark parking lot.

Sandra exited the side door and checked to make sure it locked behind her.

A smile creased Bill's face. Sandra, always the cautious one. Who would want to break into a building of homeless men? He held the car door for her.

Companionable silence accompanied them as they drove the short distance to her house. That was one of the things he loved about her—no need to constantly chat about nothing.

“Want to come in for awhile?” she asked as he turned the car into her drive. “Jimmy's spending the night with Trina again. I hope he isn't too much for her right now. She doesn't have to keep him, you know.”

“Trina loves it. The two of them have a special connection.”

Sandra placed her hand in his as they walked toward the house. He wrapped his fingers around hers. Soft, but not too soft. Warm. And comforting. Too soon, they were in the kitchen, where she pulled her hand from his to flip on the light. Heading to the sink, she began filling the coffee pot.

“I just don't want caring for Jimmy to become too much for her. He can be a handful.”

“She'll be fine.” Bill settled in a chair at the kitchen table and thrummed his fingers on the wood. “The realtor called me again today.”

She shut off the water and turned toward him. “Does he still want to cut the price on your house?”

He rubbed his jaw. “Yeah. Betsy says I have it priced too high, too. But it seems the place ought to be worth more.” He watched as Sandra opened the plastic storage container and measured out the grounds. He always liked the smell of fresh coffee. Made any place feel home-like. Not like that sweet tea southerners liked.

“You should trust your sister's judgment, Bill.”

“I know. I have to give it some thought.” It was proving hard to sell the place. The house represented his last connection to Nancy, and it was where he had raised Trina. What if he decided to go back to Ohio? Had he really made up his mind to stay in the south forever?

The coffee finished and Sandra poured two mugs and sat across from him. He sipped and watched as Sandra poured just the right dab of milk into her cup, and added one level teaspoon of sugar. Very precise, very sure of what she wanted. A woman who knew her mind. He liked that about her.

“The exterminator came today. He killed most of the ants, but the tree is rotted and needs to come down. I'll call and check on the cost of having it taken out.”

“Ted and I might be able to do it. There are ladders and ropes out in the garage. I might be able to scrounge up some extra help at work.”

“Some of the guys at church might be willing to help.”

“Let me check into it before you go and hire someone. All we need is a bigger chain saw.”

The wind swirled outside. Dry leaves, oak and magnolia, brushed against the house. This would be his first winter in the south. Trees didn't shed leaves in South Carolina like Ohio: maples, all done and over within a week or two. These southern leaves dribbled off a few at a time. It kept him busy raking here and Trina's. And the flowers he and Sandra had planted were still blooming. Who would have thought? Flowers in December?

Lillian had commented about that back in October.

“I saw Paul come in right before we closed.” Sandra's voice was laced with question marks.

“Yeah, he wanted to take Lillian out for coffee. Asked me where she was.” He sipped his coffee, enjoying the hot burn. “So what do you think she's up to?”

“Bill, you need to give this up.”

He ran a hand across the top of his head. “I just can't. God keeps sending me these signals. I ignored them when Jimmy was missing. I won't ignore them again. Something is wrong.”

“But remember, Bill, you misinterpreted God's message with Jimmy. Isn't it possible you're getting this wrong too?”

He drew his brows together. “I just don't know. Danger surrounds her. That much I'm sure of.” Lillian meant danger, but right now, at this very second, he was where he wanted to be, and the comfort lulled him.

“Do you ever regret moving?” Sandra asked. Her expression looked dreamy. A soft smile, Madonna-like, shaped her lips.

“No, I don't regret being here. Trina needs me, and I was fortunate enough to get the teaching job. I hate leaving Betsy alone in Ohio, but she has her friends and really doesn't need me.” He stared at Sandra. She was so beautiful, just what he had always prayed for: a Christian wife who loved Trina as her own. But there was no way he could ever love another woman like he loved Nancy, not even Sandra, and the thought settled heavy in his heart. “I'd better get home. It's off to work tomorrow.” He leaned over and kissed Sandra on the cheek before letting himself out the kitchen door.

The temperature had dropped, and he shivered in his cotton shirt. Clouds covered the stars that surely were shining overhead, just as they always did. His heart should have been filled with joy. He had a baby coming soon, his first grandchild. But he knew the reason for his despondency: Sandra deserved to know that there would never be more between them than friendship. She should be free to accept other relationships if she wanted. He needed to tell her, but the time never seemed right. The longer he put it off, the harder it became. But he needed to do it before Trina's baby came. Not only did he have to worry about breaking Sandra's heart, but he also had to figure out what was going on with Lillian. The feeling of danger was getting stronger as time went on. One challenge felt weighty enough, but his back bent with responsibilities.

Could he battle whatever loomed ahead?

19

Lillian woke and glanced at the clock radio. Six-fifteen. Almost time to get up. Her droopy eyes closed until the radio flipped onto the Christian music channel. She rolled to her side, her body still heavy with sleep. Dangling her legs over the edge of the bed, she looked around for her slippers.

Beside the far wall sat her walking shoes, covered with dirt and grass. She tried to focus her thoughts. There shouldn't be mud on her shoes. When had she worn them last? As she bent to pick one up, the room began to spin. Gripping her knees with her hands, she waited for the dizziness to subside before turning her attention back to the shoes. The mud felt damp and the grass fresh.

The floor waved and rolled. She tried to gauge where to place each foot. Was she getting sick? She couldn't remember ever being light-headed. Her muscles ached as if they had already done a day's work and deserved time off for good behavior. Feeling slightly nauseous, she headed to the bathroom.

A shower helped clear her head, but the fatigue remained. She dressed for work, her hands clumsy as she tried to fasten buttons. Maybe a cup of coffee would help. She went to the kitchen, each footstep an adventure.

“Hey Lillian!” Jimmy sat at the old oak table, a bowl of frosted cereal in front of him. His brown hair had already been slicked down for the day, a futile activity since the wispy section on top would be standing up again before he made it into the school building.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Lillian replied, surprised at feeling thick tongued. She poured a cup of coffee, gripping the cup tightly, and carefully sat in a chair at the table.

The sound of clinking china came from the dining room. Trina would be setting the table for their new guest who, usually, was a late sleeper. Apparently her supper meetings started earlier today.

“I only have ten more days until school is out for Christmas break.” Jimmy spooned another bite to his mouth. “Then I get two weeks off.”

“I thought you liked school,” Lillian said, the caffeine already loosening her tongue.

“I do, but I like Christmas better.”

She chuckled. “Well, I have you beat. I only have two more
days
until I'm off for Christmas, and I get three
weeks
off.”

The two of them had made a game of being able to beat each other at anything that came along: who finished eating first, who got the car door open first, who colored the best picture.

“Wow, three weeks. I wish I went to your school.”

“You will someday, or one like it.” She sipped her black coffee, trying to focus on the boy across from her. “So what's happening in school today?”

“Art. I love art.” He looked around mischievously. “Don't tell Gram, but I'm making her a present.”

Lillian pretended to zip her lips closed.

Trina wobbled into the kitchen. “Hey, I thought I heard your voice. What can I get you for breakfast?”

“You know I get my own breakfast.” She turned back to the boy across from her. “So, Jimmy, do you recommend that cereal?”

He pointed both thumbs into the air.

“That good, huh? I guess I'll have what he's having.”

“I hate it that you don't let me help you,” Trina said. “You're living in a bed and breakfast.”

“And I slept in a bed and now I'm having breakfast. I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to.” She poured cereal into her bowl and added milk.

“Ha, you spilled yours!” Jimmy said when some of cereal fell over the top of the bowl. “I didn't spill mine.”

Lillian yawned. “Well, that's one for you. That makes us even so far today.”

Trina sat down beside Jimmy. “I might as well rest while I can. Mrs. Blackwell shouldn't need anything else.”

“You mean Nadine,” Lillian said with a chuckle.

“I can't bring myself to call her by her first name.”

“Me neither. She looks like a Mrs. Blackwell to me.”

“May I be excused?” Jimmy asked, his spoon clattering to the table.

“Yes, you may,” Trina replied. “Go brush your teeth. But remember to walk.”

The boy ran out of the room and stomped up the stairs.

Trina grimaced. “So much for walking.”

“You'll be a great mother, Trina.”

“Hmm. I hope so.” She grabbed a banana off the tray and pulled back the peel. “You look tired. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

Bill's footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Hey, you should have the news on,” he said. “Another house burned down last night.”

Suddenly she was awake, tracing a line of thought to a horrible conclusion. First, there had been the gas cans in her car. Now dirty shoes in her room. And fires that began
after
her arrival in Darlington. It was impossible, and yet, how did her shoes end up with
fresh
mud and grass on them? No one had access to the house, or to her room, except the family. She trusted them with her life. Her spoon fell to the table as she stared ahead, unseeing.

Dr. Widder had warned her about the potential of unexpected behavior, and she had exhibited some, but that had been months ago. Many months.

She was better now. Better than she had ever been in her life. Why would she suddenly start sleep-walking? Shaking, she took her half-empty cereal bowl to the sink and crawled up to her room. She had to clean her shoes, and destroy any potential evidence.

Should she seek mental help? Call her old psychiatrist, Dr. Widder? Tie her feet to the bed at night? Her hands trembled as she watched mud swirl down the drain of the sink and disappear, much like her disappearing life. Now she couldn't even trust herself.

~*~

Christmas had never held much interest for Roger except during the few years of his marriage. But he had to admit, when Ted and Trina trimmed for Christmas, they did it big. The old house stood transformed, like one of those old-time Christmas cards where the room was draped with ribbons and garland. All that remained was the tree, a hovering seven-foot pine that occupied the place of honor by the front window of the family parlor.