Lily of the Valley in May (4 page)

Joel looked up, wiping his face on his sleeve. “I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to cry all over you. Daddy's having a bad day. Here, I brought you the picture she drew.” He reached under the gown and pulled out Faith's sketch. He held it over the motionless figure. “There's Nessie and Angus just as I imagined them.”

He took a deep breath, not sure what else to say. He couldn't tell him what he'd done today; at least not about the funeral. Had it really only been that morning that he'd met Faith? It seemed so much longer ago than that. “I hope you're being a good boy for the nurses. I know all your tricks to avoid doing stuff you hate, remember.” He leaned over and kissed the bandages over his son's forehead. I love you.”

He sat still, desperately hoping for Bradley to open his eyes and give him the usual reply. Or to hear him beg for one more story, a few more minutes, or one more drink. But it didn't come. He didn't want to acknowledge that it never would.

Shaking his head, he pushed back in the chair. He'd stay here with Bradley for as long as he could.

~*~

Completely freaked didn't even begin to cover the feelings running rampant within her. Faith ran to the house as soon as Grace parked and let herself in. Was she safe here? If Joel worked out where she was from, then maybe someone else would.

I wish Dirk Shepherd really did exist. I could really do with someone coming to rescue me.

Patches ran to greet her, licking her hands.

“Are you hungry? Come on, then.” Flicking on the lights and pulling curtains as she went, she walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, the dog at her heels. She fed him and then jumped as Grace came in.

“You OK, sis?”

“He knows where I'm from—”

“Who knows?”

“Joel.”

“You're my sister. Of course he does.”

“You don't understand.” Faith wrung her hands. “Rick said I couldn't tell you, but everything is such a mess, and I don't want to keep secrets anymore.”

Grace crossed to her side. “OK, start from the beginning. And don't leave anything out. You didn't leave Damien because he hit you and hurt your shoulder, did you? Because I know he's been hitting you for months, and you've stayed out of some idea that you love him.”

Faith swallowed. “I was scared. No; make that terrified of him. He said if I left he'd find me and kill me.” The words tumbled from her as the dam opened. “Damien did something and several people were killed. He said if I told he'd kill me. But I tried talking to Father Haney. I only wanted advice, nothing more. But somehow Damien found out and he killed Father Haney and then shot me. He wanted me dead, but the bullet went through my shoulder.”

Grace paled. “He
shot
you?”

Faith pulled back her top a little so her sister could see the bandage. “The doctor said it was fortunate the bullet didn't do any damage. My arm is sore and the joint stiff, but I'm OK. Leaving him took a huge amount of courage, but it was the right thing to do. As was shopping him to the cops.”

Grace hugged her. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Rick said not to. He said the fewer people that know the safer I am.”

“Safer?” Her sister's eyebrows vanished into her fringe.

“They arrested Damien, but he has contacts everywhere. Rick wanted me to go into protective custody, but I wouldn't go. I wanted to come here. He agreed reluctantly so long as I kept schtum. So he's hiding me here until the trial. I wanted to tell you, but he didn't. He said it was safer for all of us that way.”

“
He's what?
” Grace grabbed the phone. “I'm calling Rick now.”

Faith pushed her hands through her hair. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Yes, you should, and so should he. He's not answering. I'll try later.” She hung up. “We should tell Elliott.”

Faith shook her head. “No. Rick said to tell no one. I shouldn't have told
you
. You can't tell them. The more people that know, the more dangerous it is.”

“Honey, both he and Joel know where we're from, and if we need protecting from something, they're right next door.”

“I'm putting you in danger here as it is.”

“I promise El isn't out to harm you and nor is Joel. Shall I make some tea?”

“No, I'm going to bed. Night.” She hugged Grace and then headed to her room. Patches followed her closely, curling up on the floor beside the bed. Faith climbed under the quilt and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “What do I do?” she whispered.

Be still and know that I am God. I am the Lord, who healeth thee.
The voice filled her head, bringing a sense of peace to her heart.

She closed her eyes.
In Thee, O God, do I put my trust. I need no other hiding place, I'm safe with You.

3

Faith left the house just after seven in the morning with Patches trotting beside her on his lead. Grace had given her directions to the park and she was determined to find it. As she closed the gate, Joel pulled up on the drive next door. She waved to him as he got out of the car. “Morning.”

Joel looked exhausted. He still wore his black suit from the previous day, although the tie must now be in his jacket pocket, as there was no sign of it. His shirt collar was unbuttoned. “Morning. Who's your friend?”

“This is Patches. He was named for the two black patches on his otherwise spotless golden coat.”

“Hello, boy.” Joel bent and petted him. “I miss having a dog around the place.”

Trust had to start somewhere, right, and if Grace trusted him, then so should she. “Why don't you come for a walk with us? I was only going to the park.”

Even the smile he gave her was tired. “That would be good.” He locked the car and fell into an easy pace beside her. “I'm sorry if I upset you last night. I didn't mean to.”

“It's OK. I've got a lot going on, and I overreacted.”

“Yesterday was pretty horrid all the way around I think.” He glanced down at his black suit. “Elliott and I went to a funeral after I spoke to you about the book illustrations.”

“I'm sorry.”

“My ex-wife's. So if I was a little short with you in the car park and in church, that's why.”

Faith looked at him. “That must have been hard.”

“We'd been divorced several years, any love once there had long gone.” He sucked in a deep breath. “She cheated on me almost from the word go. Kept saying it wouldn't happen again, but eventually I made her choose. Him or me. She chose him, and got the house, the dog, my son. I got Elliott's spare room and every other weekend with Bradley, my son.”

“I'm sorry.”
Bradley…wasn't that the name of that little boy they prayed for last night?
She wished she'd paid attention to what Grace had said about Elliott and Joel the night she'd moved in.

“Don't be. Like I said, it's over and done with.” He glanced down at Patches. “That is one very well-behaved dog.”

“He's a former guide dog whose owner died suddenly. They decided he was too old to start over with a new blind person, so Patches retired and I got him. He'll run off to collect a ball or stick, but won't leave my side when we're walking. I guess old habits die hard.”

“It's a good habit to have.”

Faith let Patches off the lead as they reached the park. She pulled a tattered ball from her pocket and threw it. “Has there been anyone in your life since your wife left?”

Joel shook his head. “No, not unless you count Elliott. I have a sister, Helen, as well.”

She watched Patches retrieve the ball. “I'm guessing you know about my family.”

“You have a sister called Grace. She lives next door and is going to marry Elliott. Though they haven't decided where to live yet—or if they have, they haven't told me. Don't think El's realized that'll make me homeless when they do decide.”

“I'm sure you'll think of something. Maybe you could buy his place if they move into Grace's.” Faith threw the ball again. “Aside from Grace, I have a brother called Rick and a sister we haven't seen in years called Hope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Ex. Very ex.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I don't want to talk about him though.”

“Fair enough.” He walked up a steep hill, keeping step with her. “How long are you staying here?”

“I don't know. Have to see what happens.” She glanced shyly at him. “I had this job interview yesterday.”

A light flickered in his eyes for a moment before the sadness returned. “Oh, aye? How did it go?”

“It could have gone better. Turns out I broke the bloke's headlight with a shopping trolley, so he was probably just humoring me all the way through the interview by saying he liked my work.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “That would be pretty mean of him to do something like that. It sounds to me like you don't have a very high opinion of men.”

She caught her breath. She'd gone and put her foot in it again. “Just basing it on personal experience, and I've had plenty of that.” She whistled to Patches. “Time to go home, boy.”

Patches ran to her side, and she clipped on his lead again. She retrieved the ball from her feet and slid it back into her pocket.

“Not all men are the same. Some of us can be self-opinionated, rude, arrogant…” he paused. “And I can't think of a polite word to say next.” He winked as her lips crept upwards unwillingly. “I make it a rule never to swear in front of a lady.”

“You swear otherwise?”

His grin became a chuckle. “Not since I became a Christian, no. Although very occasionally something will slip out if I get angry.”

“Damien, my ex, swore all the time. But then he said church was for sissies.”

“I see. But you and I both know otherwise, right?”

“Yeah.” They walked the rest of the way in silence. As she reached Grace's bungalow, she gazed at him. “Did you want to see the painting now?”

“Sure. I'll just grab my briefcase from the house and be right over.”

“I'll leave the door open for you.” Faith unlocked the door and went into the lounge.

Less than a minute later, Joel joined her. “I shut the door. Don't want Patches getting out.”

“Thank you. Here you go.” She held up the paper.

His gaze ran over the picture, as if taking in every stroke of her brush. At least he seemed to like it. A sad smile crossed his face. “It's good. It's really good.” He pulled the manuscript from his briefcase. “I'd like you to take the job, if you want it that is?”

She nodded, jumping at the chance of working with him. “Of course. I'd love to take it. Thank you.” She took the file, his fingers brushing against hers. “When do you want them?”

Joel held her gaze. “I need them in three weeks at the most.”

Shock resonated through her, and she flicked through the manuscripts, doing a mental tally of the pages. She shook her head. “That's not possible. You must need about thirty drawings. I'd need a day per one at least. More if you want a half decent job done.”

“I'm not able to do that.” Joel's voice carried with it an undercurrent of raw emotion. Something was really wrong, but what? “The publisher needs time to place the drawings for an ARC and the printer is doing a special mini print run because of the situation.”

His hand reached out and grabbed hers, his touch pleading with her. “Please, Faith. I'll pay double or triple if that's what you want, on top of what the publisher will pay you. But you see the characters the way I do, the way I want the world to see them.”

She studied his face for a moment, but the glimmer of emotion had vanished, leaving her no clue as to his motivation. Warmth from his hand shot up her arm, setting her aflame. She needed the money, but did she need the stress?

No, but this was the chance of a lifetime to illustrate her favorite author's first children's book. Plus, it would ease his evident distress. This meant so much to him, and she could do something to help him. And it would take her mind off the fact that Damien wanted her dead. “OK. I don't work Sunday's, but I'll do my best to get them done in time. And I don't want more money. The normal rate per picture is fine. Do you want them painted or pencil drawings?”

Joel looked at the one in his hand. “Like this.”

Faith looked at him. That would double or triple the time per picture. She'd busted a gut over that one and been up half the night as it was, but it didn't matter how much he offered, she'd do it. “Watercolors it is then. May I ask why the time frame is so short? Such a lovely book deserves as much time and care in the illustrations as you put into writing it.”

He swallowed hard. “I want him to see it,” he whispered. “That's the rush.”

“Who?”

“It's for my son, Bradley—” His eyes filled with tears, and his voice wobbled. A struggle for control crossed his face and a tear ran down his cheek before he wiped it away. “He was caught in a fire. No one expected him to survive, but he did. Only now, he has this massive infection and...”

Sorrow course through her. Grace must have told her and she kicked herself for not remembering. She reached out and took his hand. “Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry. What happened?”

“It was an electrical fire.” Joel's voice took on a gravelly quality. He cleared his throat. “Caroline's boyfriend tried to get them out, but he died in the attempt. So did she. Bradley is in the burns unit in Oxford. I—” He sucked in a deep breath. “He isn't going to make it.”

Faith slid her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She had no idea what to say, but hoped this would do instead. “I'll do the paintings within a week. I promise. And I'll pray for him.”

~*~

For the next three days, Faith worked eighteen hours a day, sketching and painting her way through the manuscript. The only times she surfaced was to walk Patches or grab a few hours' sleep. She saw Joel as he left the house, and he'd joined her for the morning walks each day. Sometimes they spoke, other times just walked in silence, simply enjoying each other's company.