He waited with her on the porch while she unlocked the front door. Then, when she eased open the door, she turned to him. “Would you like to come in for some decaf or a glass of iced tea?”
He smiled. “Not tonight, Cathy. Perhaps another time.”
“Certainly.” She kissed his cheek, a simple act of gratitude. “Thank you for trying to help me with J.B. and Mona.”
His round face flushed a light pink. “I’ll continue doing all I can to help you and Seth and the Cantrells.”
Cathy stood in the open doorway and watched Donnie until he got in his SUV. Then she went inside and closed and locked the door. She felt a sense of hope wash over her. A day that had started off with a trip to the sheriff’s office was ending peacefully. Thanks to Brother Donnie Hovater, she felt that it might be possible not only to reclaim her rights as Seth’s mother without involving lawyers, but to salvage her relationship with her in-laws.
In all the years they’d been together, Bruce Kelley had never lied to his wife. But today, not only had he lied to her, so had their three children. However, the deception had been for her own good. If they had told her Mirabelle Rutledge would be living with them as her companion and jailer, Sandie would have protested. She wouldn’t have understood. In her lucid moments, she tried to deny her illness. And in her incompetent moments, she was incapable of understanding.
“I met Mirabelle when I visited Bright Side recently, and I really liked her,” Kira had said shortly before Kim and Mirabelle arrived. “She’s such a dear, sweet person. I think you’ll just love her.”
“This arrangement will be good for you and Dad and for Mirabelle,” Kevin had told his mother. “She needs a home and-”
“Of course we’ll give the poor child a home,” Sandie had said without hesitation. “Your father and I have worked with foster children in the past, so this won’t be very different, except that Mirabelle is a grown woman with a child’s mind.”
“Actually, she’s quiet intelligent,” Bruce had said. “I believe she’s simply a little slow.” He had reached over and squeezed Sandie’s hand. “She’ll want to stay with you all the time, you know, the way a child would with her mother.”
Sandie had smiled. “And I’ll do my very best to be a mother figure for her.”
Later in the afternoon, before Kim left, she had reinforced his earlier comments. “Mirabelle will want to stay right with you whenever Dad’s not around. She doesn’t like to be alone.”
As Bruce looked down on a sleeping Sandie, her lovely face peaceful, her slender body covered only by a sheet and lightweight blanket, he swallowed his tears. An hour before bedtime, she had become disoriented and for a few moments hadn’t known where she was. As happened occasionally, this evening her mind had wandered back to a time in her own childhood, and oddly enough she had thought Mirabelle was her mother.
The sweet, gentle young woman had helped him with his wife, taking over with an ease that surprised him. She had aided Sandie with as much patience and tender care as a mother would have taken with her own child. And when Mirabellele tucked Sandie into bed and kissed her on the forehead, Bruce had known that bringing this girl into their home had been the right decision. Indeed, it seemed to be a blessing.
“I will stay here,” Mirabelle told him. “You mustn’t worry, Mr. Bruce. I won’t leave her. I will sleep beside her. It’s all right that she doesn’t know who I am. She’s happy because she thinks I’m her mother.”
He patted Mirabelle on the shoulder. “Yes, she did go to sleep happy, didn’t she. I’ll be in the guest room across the hall. If she wakes in the night or if you should need me…”
“I’ll come and get you, Mr. Bruce.”
He gazed into the girl’s warm brown eyes and saw beyond the slow mind and into the loving heart. Abruptly, he turned and walked out of the bedroom just as the tears he could no longer control trickled down his cheeks.
The room is dark and quiet. Lying on my back staring up at the ceiling, I see only a glimmer of moonlight creeping through the closed blinds. I feel as if I’m floating on a peaceful black sea. Safe in God’s hands. Nothing bad can happen to me. No one can hurt me. I am surrounded by a cloak of holy protection.
What is that tune humming inside my head? Oh, yes, it’s a beautiful hymn that I learned as a child. My earliest memories are of being at church, inside the blessed sanctuary for the righteous, each service a haven for God’s true children.
That’s what I am-one of God’s true children. I am not like so many who profess to be brothers and sisters of Christ and yet prove themselves unworthy of the name Christian.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” The words of Psalm Twenty-seven echo inside my heart. “When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.”
With my eyes closed against the ugliness of the world, I am so blessed to be able to recall the Holy Scripture. King David’s psalms are some of my favorite passages from the Old Testament. “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up. Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty.”
The world is filled with evil and cruelty, with those who profess to love the Lord and do His work. But some are false prophets. Those are the ones God commands me to punish.
I’m listening, Lord. I know who You have chosen next to receive Thy swift and harsh punishment. Give me the time and day of his death, and I will do Thy bidding. I am Your humble servant, Your avenging angel of death.
Knowing she had a busy day tomorrow, even with Treasures closed, Cathy took a shower and prepared for bed earlier than usual. She and Lorie were in charge of the Lansdell Estate sale, which was scheduled for two weeks from yesterday. They would have to begin clearing the junk from the old house and preparing the furniture and the saleable contents to be displayed and priced. As she towel-dried her hair, she debated whether to use the blow-dryer or simply let it dry naturally overnight. After hanging the towel across the shower curtain rack and running a comb through her wavy, damp strands, she put on her floor-length cotton gown and padded barefoot into the bedroom.
The sound of the doorbell at-she glanced at the bedside clock-nine-thirty on Sunday night surprised her. She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. By the time she’d found her house slippers and lightweight cotton robe, her visitor had rung the doorbell again.
She rushed down the hall, through the living room and to the front door. When she peered through the viewfinder, she sucked in a deep breath. What was Jack doing on her doorstep at this time of night?
Without hesitation, she unlocked and opened the door. He stood there with a peculiar expression on his face.
He looked her over from head to toe. “Were you already in bed? I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” she replied. “It’s been a long, tiring day, which started pretty early this morning, and I have a busy day tomorrow, so I thought I’d try for an early bedtime tonight.”
“I guess I should have called first.”
“It’s all right.” When he kept staring at her so oddly, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
He glanced from side to side. “Mind if I come in? I’d rather not include your neighbors in our conversation.”
“Oh, of course.” She stepped aside to allow him entrance. “Please come in.”
After he entered, she closed the door and turned to face him. He was close. Too close. Only inches separated their bodies. Jack was a good nine inches taller than her height of five-five, and the lanky young guy she’d fallen in love with years ago was now broader and more muscular but equally lean and fit. She stared up into his blue eyes, eyes she had never been able to forget. A shiver of pure sexual awareness rippled along every nerve in her body.