After All These Years (11 page)

Isabel turned. She looked pale. “Why?”

“Because there'd be no reason to ask me the kind of stuff he's digging for. I wouldn't bother to answer those questions. When is his article coming out?”

“I don't know. He's coming back in a couple of weeks. He said he doesn't understand us Christians yet. I really think he's curious about our faith. We know Brady's praying for his salvation because he always thinks of that first. Maybe Tony's coming back is part of the answer to his prayer.”

“I'm still blown away when that happens. You know, when God answers Brady's prayer in a way I can see with my own two eyes.”

“Don't your prayers get concrete answers?”

“Well, I haven't gotten shot.” He headed toward the door.

“Is that all you need, Cal? To not get shot?”

“Pretty much.” He opened the porch door and turned toward her. “I could pray for you though.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, you don't look so hot right now. Are you sick?” Her forehead crinkled.

Oh, swell. Now she's on the verge of tears. Mendoza is never on the verge of tears.

“No,” she whispered, “but will you…will you pray for Tony's soul, too?”

“Sure.”
Right after I pray that I won't have to nail the weasel for slander.

Lia parked her car behind three others at the curb in front of Isabel's house. Across the street, trees lined a gully where the railroad tracks ran. Four modest houses and a brick apartment building bordered the right side of this block of Acorn Park Lane. At the far end was the vet's office. Two blocks back at the other end was the north edge of town where Anne and Alec Sutton lived in their renovated farmhouse. Chloe was there now, visiting Mandy and being baby-sat by Amy, although of course that wasn't a term Lia used any longer in front of her niece.

Lia's fingers ached. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel.

Lord, please keep her safe… Oh, that's all I seem able to pray these days! I'm sorry!

It was Thursday, almost a week since the first phone call. A new alarm system had been installed at the shop. If it went off, a siren sounded, which in her opinion wouldn't help a whole lot considering they lived in the business district where the sidewalks rolled up at 5:30
P.M
. But also a signal would be sent to the security office. They were to call her and then, if she didn't answer, they would notify the police.

Still…she had received two more phone calls and now today a letter. Intangibles that wouldn't trip an alarm system.

She blinked away tears of frustration. Valley Oaks exuded comfort and safety.
Just look at Isabel's house.
Architecturally it was nondescript, but the sight of its cheery yellow siding and clean white shutters was like seeing a friend
eagerly waiting to give you a hug. Two large maple trees filled the front yard. A rainbow of perennials bordered the sidewalk that led from the street to the stoop, then along the front of a flower-filled planter and around the left corner of the house.

She took a deep, calming breath.

Isabel had told her that Cal lived next door. Lia briefly studied his home, which was larger than Isabel's. It resembled him in a way, square and solid. A wonderful porch with brick pillars supporting its overhang covered the entire front of the white house. Above it a second-story window jutted out. There were trees and junipers around, but no flowers. A guy's kind of place. He emerged now from the front door. She climbed out of her car and met him at the curb.

“Hi, Cal.”

“Hi, Lia.” He smiled, the sides of his face folding accordion-style and his green eyes crinkling in a pleasant way. His teddy bear-trimmed hair was damp. He wore a short-sleeved plaid shirt and jeans.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

“I'm headed into Isabel's, but—” She pressed together her lips, which insisted on trembling.

His eyebrows shot up. “
Now
will you tell me what happened?”

“Friday night, right before I left for the Faire, I got a phone call. There was another one on Monday and yesterday. And…and this today.” She pulled the envelope from her shoulder bag and handed it to him.

“Tell me about the calls.”

“They came on the shop line, right after closing hours. I just heard breathing on the other end the first two times. Yesterday there was a scratchy whisper that said, ‘You can't hide.'”

Cal carefully removed a piece of lined notebook paper from the envelope and shook out its fold, holding it by a corner. He read aloud, “‘Your history.' Hmm. I suppose that means ‘You
are
history.' They can't spell, can they? It's written in crayon on school paper. Lia, I think it's kids with nothing better to do than to pull a prank on the new person in town.”

“There's more. Chloe's father— Oh, where do I begin?” She covered her mouth with her hands, but the gasp still escaped.

“How about his name?”

Lia closed her eyes for a moment and steadied herself. She lowered her hands. “Nelson Greene. He lives in Evanston. He doesn't have visitation rights. He kidnapped Chloe twice when she was a toddler. About six months ago, after strange phone calls, he showed up at the playground where she was playing with friends. They talked and he gave her a doll. Now Chloe wants to get to know him.”

“Did you get a restraining order?”

“My sister did after the first time he kidnapped her, even though he didn't hurt Chloe or run. He just took her home. The cops found them that night. The second time…He came back a few months later. Chloe was three. He took her from day care and then went to Kathy's workplace. We pieced the story together after the accident. She never would have gotten into that car if Chloe weren't in it. Since then, Nelson has stayed away…until this year. I was in the middle of trying to buy the pharmacy and figure out the move. I just wanted to get us away as soon as possible. He has his own family.”

“He's
married?
”

“Yes, with four older children. He was Kathy's boss. He was in the habit of wanting Kathy back whenever his wife kicked him out. I don't know why he's interested in Chloe
now. Some latent altruistic sentiment…” She was going to lose it.

Cal squeezed her shoulder. “Listen, Lia, he's never written a note like this before, right? I mean, this is kids' stuff.” He studied the envelope. “The postmark is faint. It looks like Rockville, though. More than likely it's not him, but I'll let the department know. Somebody will patrol around your place tonight. I'll swing by later. Where is Chloe now?”

“At the Suttons'. Alec is there with all the kids.”

“Do they know?”

She shook her head.

“Lia, you've got to tell others. Your friends, the school. All right?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought we'd be safe in Valley Oaks.”

“Maybe you should work on a restraining order.”

“Maybe. I don't want him in her life! Oh, Cal, I'm sorry. That was a major unloading on you.”

“Hey, I get paid for this kind of stuff.”

“You look like you're going out. With Tammy?”

“Yeah.”

“She seems like a special young woman. Besides being beautiful.”

He nodded slightly. “I'm glad you told me about the situation. All right if I hang on to this letter?”

“Sure. Thanks, Cal.”

“See you.”

She watched him climb into his truck parked at the curb, then squared her shoulders and looked at Isabel's house.
I hope it's what it looks like—a friend with her arms wide open because I really, really need a hug right about now.

Isabel opened her front door and saw a forlorn Lia Neuman standing there, her long black ponytail askew and her dark eyes unfocused. Isabel pulled her inside and gave her a bear hug. “Welcome!”

Lia fiercely hugged her back. “Oh, thank you! Sorry I'm late.”

“No problem. I told you this so-called book club is extremely casual. It is so casual we don't always discuss books. You know everyone, don't you?”

“Hi, Lia!” a chorus of voices sang out behind her.

Isabel watched as her new friend joined the group of women oohing and aahing over a particularly large diamond on Gina Philips' left hand. Newcomers Lia and Gina would fit in as naturally as Isabel had herself four years ago. Observing the hugs and gentle camaraderie, she smiled. Christ's love was palpable whenever they gathered. It was the only thing they all shared in common. Well, that and a passion for reading.

Tonight was their first meeting of the season, the first Thursday in September. If anyone were regarded as leader, it would be Celeste Eaton. Her situation automatically placed her there: She was the pastor's wife, the oldest at 39, and the creator of the group. Years ago she rounded up mothers who, like herself, needed a regular evening away from their little ones. They called themselves Club NEDD, an acronym for what they did together: nurture, eat, and dabble in discussions about books which they may or may not have had time to read that month.

Still, Celeste shied away from overtly leading. With her pixie face, splash of freckles, naturally wavy brown hair of medium length, quick smile, and soft, lilting voice, she led by serving. They all adored her.

That original group of mothers with toddlers now all had teenagers. Anne Sutton added her calm, solid presence.
Addie Chandler sparkled with pizzazz, seeing everything through her artist's eye. Athletic Val Massey never let up on encouraging them to do aerobics at home whenever they finished reading a chapter.

Younger women completed the group. Britte Olafsson, who could pass for Brady's twin with her height and blonde good looks, taught high school math and coached the girls' basketball team. Band teacher Lauren Thompson and music teacher Abbey Swanson always left enthusiasm in their wake. And now there was Gina, the California transplant newly engaged to catch-of-the-century Brady. She was a veterinarian with hopes to bring elephants and other wild animals to the area.

And lastly, Lia Neuman… As a pharmacist, she was a wonderful addition to Valley Oaks' business community. Isabel recognized how deeply Lia was grounded in her faith. She admired her generous spirit, energy, and fun-loving attitude.

Tonight, though, all that was quite obviously missing.

The women would have celebrated anyway with food and singing, but Gina's engagement gave them a proper excuse. After agreeing on a novel to read before next month, most of the group left. Isabel watched from the door as they walked down her front steps. Light splashed through windows onto the dark lawn.

Anne leaned over Isabel's shoulder and called out, “Spoil-sports!”

Britte turned from the sidewalk, laughing. “You're just a stay-at-home mom, Anne,” it was an ongoing joke between them, “with nothing better to do than hang out here half the night!
We
all have to go to work tomorrow.”

“You call what you do
work
? Showing teenagers how to add and subtract and shoot baskets?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Calc is
not
adding and subtracting.”

“Not to mention flirting with the new principal.”

Britte only shook her finger in reply and kept walking toward the street.

Isabel nudged Anne with her elbow. “Say goodnight, Anne.”

“Goodnight, Anne!” she mimicked.

Britte waved from her car parked at the curb. “Goodnight!”

Isabel shut the door. The late night air was cool. She sat back down in her favorite chair, a padded rocker. The earthy Anne pinched up the front of her capri pants, crossed her ankles and gracefully folded herself down onto the floor.

“Annie, your boss might fire you if you keep harassing her like that.”

“The school board loves me.” She grinned. Her husband was a member this year. “
They
pay my assistant coach's salary, not Coach Olafsson.”