A Shred of Evidence (43 page)

Ellen stood dumbfounded and studied her for a moment. Why hadn’t Ned told her the Blanche Davis he mentioned was also the woman who had been walking her poodle on the beach?

“I wouldn’t blame you if you threw me out, but—”

“On the contrary, won’t you please come in?” Ellen heard herself say.

The woman stared at her blankly. “You’re kidding, right?”

Ellen held open the door and Ms. Davis stepped inside. “Would you like something cold to drink: lemonade, Diet Coke, bottled water?”

“No, nothing for me. I’d just like to get this over with.”

Ellen led Ms. Davis out to the veranda and offered her a seat on the wicker couch. “Don’t you have a white poodle?”

“Ah, you do recognize me from the beach. Did you figure out I’m the one who went to your pastor?”

“I wondered. But of course, I had no idea who you were.”

Ms. Davis wrung her hands, and Ellen noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “I felt so bad after I read your letter in the newspaper. I wanted you to know I never really
gossiped
about you to anyone.”

“Other than my pastor and his wife?”

“I suppose he told you what I said?”

“Yes, he did. Both times. After you confronted him in person, and then when you left a note. I assume you got my reply in the mailbox?”

Ms. Davis’s face flushed with color. “Yes, but as defensive as you were, it just made you seem all the more guilty.”

Ellen bit her lip.
Lord, don’t let me lose it
. “Ms. Davis, just so you’ll know, the man you saw me with on the beach the first time was my husband. We’d been out jogging, sat down to rest, and fell asleep. Chief Seevers discovered us there and asked us to leave. It was excruciatingly embarrassing for me. Guy, on the other hand, thought it would make a cute story to tell our grandchildren someday.

“And the other gentlemen you’ve seen me with is Ned Norton, a very wise eighty-seven-year-old man I met while I was out walking and who’s taught me a great deal about how to love and pray for difficult people.”

Ms. Davis’s eyes matched her hair and looked huge through the lenses of her glasses. “What a coincidence. Ned goes to my church. In fact, he made me the most unusual shell necklace. I didn’t recognize him as the man you were with. Then again, I don’t see as well as I used to.”

“Perhaps now you can understand my indignation and embarrassment when you accused me of being unfaithful to my husband, whom I dearly love, and then went to my pastor without even confronting me—
and
followed up with a note implying I was lying. I had no way to defend myself. It was terribly disconcerting, especially not knowing how many people might have been privy to the gossip. I’m assuming you’ve told others about this?”

Ms. Davis shifted her weight. “I may have mentioned your name in my prayer circle at church, but it certainly wasn’t gossip. They don’t even know you—well, except for Lucille Morley at the bank and Helen Ratliff who lives next door to me, but I can go back and clear it all up.”

“Let’s hope so, but it usually doesn’t work that way once the seed of doubt is planted. I’m curious, how did you know where I go to church?”

“I found the church newsletter in your mailbox.”

Ellen took a slow, deep breath and counted to ten … eleven … twelve. “You went through my mail?”

“You have to understand that until I read your letter in the newspaper this morning, I honestly thought you were fooling around on your husband. It never occurred to me that I might be wrong. I don’t blame you for being angry, but I’d like to explain my actions.”

“Yes, by all means. Go right ahead.”
This ought to be good
.

“When I was a young woman, I married a real Mr. Nice Guy whose sales position kept him on the road. I stayed busy at first, but after years of living that kind of life and having no kids to take care of, I got lonely.” Ms. Davis folded her hands. “I started seeing someone. My friends all knew it, but pretended they didn’t. I really wanted someone to confront me with it because I wasn’t strong enough to stop on my own. But no one ever did. Maybe if they had, I would’ve felt pressured to do the right thing. Eventually, my husband found out and divorced me. And back in those days, a divorce was really humiliating. Everyone treated me like a Jezebel. About the only thing they didn’t do was stone me.”

Ellen held Ms. Davis’s gaze. “If you felt that strongly, why didn’t you just confront me to my face instead of passing notes and talking to my pastor?”

“Since you didn’t know me, I didn’t think it would matter who it was that knew your secret—just that someone did—someone who would make you accountable to your pastor.”

Ellen was taken aback by the audacity of this woman. Had she no respect for personal boundaries?

“I can tell by your silence how upset you are,” Ms. Davis said. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this, but I really am sorry. I should probably leave.”

Ellen noticed how her glasses magnified the lifeless look in her eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you and say everything’s fine. I feel violated. And you’re kidding yourself if you think mentioning my name in your prayer circle wasn’t gossip. You could have prayed for me without ever revealing my name and casting aspersions on my character. But I do appreciate what it cost you
to come here. It couldn’t have been easy.” Ellen paused for a few moments, and then decided to say the words and trust God that the feeling would come later. “And I
do
forgive you.”

Ms. Davis stared at her in disbelief. “You do?”

“Well, yes. I imagine we’ll be running into each other again. I assume you live around here?”

“At the end of the block. I inherited the big gray house with white Bahamas shutters. My parents left it to me to salve their guilt since they as much as disowned me after my divorce.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Thirty-two years. But I’ve never fit in. I’ve been accused more than once of meddling. I know what I am, Mrs. Jones. But I promise to go back to your pastor and the ladies in my prayer circle and set them straight. Thanks for not giving me the third degree. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to be this nice.” Ms. Davis rose to her feet. “I’ll get out of your way so you and your husband can enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

Ellen got up and walked Ms. Davis to the front door, and Ned’s words came rushing back to her.
I suspect Blanche Davis needs a touch from God. And we’re His body. Isn’t that what these hands are for? It’s a whole lot easier not getting them dirty
.

“You know, as long as we’re neighbors, why don’t you call me Ellen? Sounds a bit friendlier, don’t you think?” Ellen offered Ms. Davis her hand.

The elderly woman’s eyes turned watery and she looked down at the marble floor, her hands clasped in front of her. “I wish I’d been friendlier, Ellen—and kinder.”

“Then let’s start over. If there’s ever going to be harmony in this community, it’s got to begin with each of us.”

Ms. Davis put her hand in Ellen’s, tears dripping from behind her glasses. “Thank you … and by all means, call me Blanche.”

E
llen Jones opened the front door and threw her arms around Julie Hamilton, not even trying to hold back the tears. “It’s so good to finally see you! Can you believe that at this very moment three weeks ago we were out distributing flyers? It’s amazing what the Lord has done!”

She let go of Julie and looked at Sarah Beth who stared up at her with those bright blue eyes. “Hi cutie. I’m so happy you came to see me.”

Sarah Beth held something in her hands, and Ellen realized it was the
National Geographic
she had taken home. “All done,” Sarah Beth said, handing it to Ellen. “Why, thank you. Come see what I have for you out on the porch.”

Ellen led them out onto the veranda where she had put up a card table, covered the top with waxed paper, and set a place for Sarah Beth.

“What’s all this?” Julie said.

“I’ve got something healthier than cookies that she can play with
and
snack on.”

“Looks interesting,” Julie said. “What’s that in the bowl?”

“I made it with peanut butter, honey, and powdered milk. Those are just raisins in the other bowl. Sit here, Sarah Beth. Let Miss Ellen show you how I used to make honey bears with my boys.” Ellen took a small lump of the mixture, formed it into a ball, and flattened it on the waxed paper to make the face, then took two smaller lumps and did the same to form the ears. She used raisins for the nose and eyes. “Here, taste.”

Ellen pinched off an ear and popped it into the little girl’s mouth.

Sarah Beth’s eyes were wide and round and she seemed to savor it for a moment, then reached for the bowl. “My turn!”

Ellen smiled. “You can have all the turns you want. Your mama and I will be right here.”

Ellen sat in one of the wicker rockers, and Julie sat in the other.

“So how are you doing? How’s Ross?”

“Happier than I’ve seen him since Nathaniel was alive. Somehow this crisis has gotten us out of grief and into gratitude. We’re actually enjoying Sarah Beth instead of fighting depression. Ross started counseling last week. The two of us are talking again and thinking about the future. Would you believe we’ve even made amends with my parents? Ross invited them to come stay this weekend; and truthfully, we can hardly wait to see them.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ellen said. “I can’t get over how terrific you look.”

“Thanks. It’s been a long time since I let myself be a wife and mom. It feels great.”

Ellen smiled at Sarah Beth singing a random medley of “The Farmer in the Dell,” “The Wheels on the Bus,” and “The A-B-C Song.”

“Have you decided whether you’ll be staying in Seaport?”

Julie lifted her eyebrows. “Where else would we go? Biloxi’s out. My folks want us to move to Meridian where they are, but Ross has job security at his Uncle Hank’s body shop. And now that Eddie’s gone, Ross has made friends with the guys and is really enjoying working there. Uncle Hank’s even talked about the possibility of Ross taking over the business in a few years.”

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to say!” Ellen said. “Now that things have settled down, have you thought any more about going to church with us?”

“We definitely want to start going again. I’m ashamed to say Sarah Beth has never been to Sunday school.” Julie glanced over at her daughter. “And the Lord’s certainly chosen an interesting way to humble us about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sarah Beth, sing your special song for Miss Ellen.”

Without hesitation, the little girl began to sing with gusto. “Jesus wuvs me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Wittle ones to Him belong. They are weak but He is stwong. Yes, Jesus wuvs me. Yes, Jesus wuvs me. Yes, Jesus wuvs me. The Bible tells me so.” She stopped singing and glanced over at Ellen, looking as pleased as if she had just performed an aria.

“Very nice!” Ellen clapped for several seconds. “Good job, Sarah Beth.”

“Sweetie, tell Miss Ellen who taught you the Jesus song.”

“Wisa and Billy.”

Julie dabbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “It’s humbling that our daughter’s first introduction to Jesus didn’t come from Ross and me, but from the kidnappers we were so worried would harm her. We’ve prayed about it and decided to drop the charges. You were right. Why should two people as innocent and caring as Billy and Lisa suffer for the sins of everyone else? Not even Eddie Drummond disagrees with that.”

Ellen got up and put her arms around Julie. “What a generous and compassionate decision. I’m so proud of you.”

Gordy Jameson went in his office, closed the door, and looked at Pam Townsend sitting at his desk. “Okay, everybody’s here.”

“Tell me again their names,” Pam said.

“Adam Spalding’s the rich young hunk, Captain Jack’s the one with the anchor tattoo on his arm, and Eddie Drummond’s the wise guy wearin’ a Goodyear Tire shirt.”

Gordy pulled her to her feet, then kissed her hand, his eyes recognizing the uneasiness in hers. “Don’t be nervous. I’m anxious to show you off.”

“I want them to like me.”

“They will. Come on.”