At Every Turn (21 page)

Clarissa’s fine meal dissolved all discomfort. Lawrence seemed quite jovial, not anxious about his upcoming part in my drama. Even Mother participated in the conversation. Maybe I’d finally convinced her I could take care of myself, choose my own friends. Or my own husband.

As we waited for dessert, Lawrence lifted the crystal goblet beside his plate. “An incredible meal, Mr. Benson.”

“Clarissa just might be the best cook in the world.” Father lowered his voice and his eyebrows. “But don’t tell her I said so.”

I hid my giggle. Clarissa had no doubt of my father’s regard for her. A few moments later, she bustled into the room and served each of us a slice of chocolate cake from the tray Betsy held. I slid my fork through the corner, lifted it to my mouth, and closed my eyes to savor the perfection. Smooth as silk. Sweet as sugar. By the time I returned to the moment, Lawrence and Father had reduced their cake to crumbs.

I set my fork on the edge of my plate. “Father, there’s something I—” My gaze skittered toward Lawrence. He gave me a quick smile and nod. “Something we’d like to discuss with you.”

Mother’s eyes grew wide, but they didn’t show anger or disdain. Only fear.

“What is it, Ally girl?” Father’s sweet voice. The one I needed to hear. Then he boomed out Clarissa’s name, sending my heart into my throat.

Clarissa appeared from the butler’s pantry. “Yes, sir? Do you need something?”

Father grinned and lifted his plate. “More cake, please.”

She shook her head and tutted her way around the table. “You, as well, Mr. Trotter?”

Lawrence gave a shy but eager nod.

I glanced at Mother, shaking my head, hoping she’d share my amusement. But she looked pensive, as if she hadn’t even witnessed the exchange. I wished I knew what she was thinking.

I pulled my attention back to Father. “I know you’ve been curious about your driver. . . .”

Father shoved another bite of cake into his mouth. And another. He shook his head back and forth. “Mm. Mm. Mm.”

I pinched the top of my nose. Could he not attend to any other subject while Clarissa’s chocolate cake sat in front of him? I glanced at Lawrence. He, too, seemed engrossed in the dessert.

Words of frustration filled my mouth, but for once I held them in. I pushed back from the table. “Why don’t I meet you in the library when you’re finished?” I attempted an alluring exit from the room, but I’m sure neither Father nor Lawrence noticed.

Father’s surprised laughter rang through the house after Lawrence’s “revelation.” Guilt pricked even as I let myself relax. I’d drive one more race and then place whatever money I had into the McConnells’ hands two weeks later. And during those two weeks of waiting, I would help the Women’s Mission Auxiliary complete their fundraising and pray the Lord would help us secure all the money.

Father wiped tears from his cheeks. “I’ll admit, Trotter, I never would have guessed you had it in you. How did you manage to find time to practice? Seems you almost live at the office with me.”

Lawrence tossed off a believable answer with an ease that widened my eyes. Then Father opened his desk drawer, pulled out a stack of bills, and slid the bundle across the desk. I sucked in a breath. Lawrence closed his hand over the money my fingers itched to posses. Then it disappeared into his coat pocket.

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to Father’s face. “I suppose you’d like him to drive at the Harvest Classic on Saturday, right, Father? After such a good showing last week?” My stomach swirled with remorse, but I couldn’t find a way to retract myself. I was in for a penny now. Might as well go for a pound.

“Of course he’ll drive.” Father lit a cigar and inhaled. The tip glowed red. He puffed the smoke into the room and wiggled his eyebrows. “Gives you an excuse for another trip to the racetrack, eh, Ally?”

I nodded, though I wanted to spew my dinner onto the floor. In spite of his lack of faith in God, I did love my father and found no joy in deceiving him.

“I’ll trust you with the arrangements, Trotter.” And with that, he dismissed us.

Out in the foyer, I curled my hand around Lawrence’s elbow and smiled up at him. “You did that beautifully,” I said as we stood alone in the shadows, only the faint glow of the electric lamps outside filtering through the window that ran along the top of the front door.

Lawrence slipped his arm around my waist. He pulled me near, our faces just inches apart. I held my breath as his mustache framed his smile.

“We make quite a team, I’d say.” He studied my lips. My heart pitched and lurched. He leaned closer, his mustache tickling my upper lip.

A door creaked. Footsteps clomped.

We jumped apart.

My entire body trembled as Lawrence grabbed his hat and slipped out the door. The motor of his Grant sputtered to life and then faded into the distance. I pressed my hands against my cheeks as Father patted my back and mounted the stairs.

I glanced again at the door through which Lawrence had disappeared. Was I in love or embarrassed? Suddenly I realized I didn’t have enough experience with men to know the difference.

 28 

A
ll night long, doubts assailed me. Grandmother had never minced words over sin. She told me when I’d faltered and expected me to repent, to be sorry, but also to change my ways. Was that why I’d kept my activities from her? I’d convinced myself it was to protect her in her fragile state. Now I wondered.

I rolled onto my side and stared at the Bible on the table beside my bed. Or at least at the place I knew it to be. I couldn’t actually see the black book in the dark room. But it was there. I knew what it said. And inside its pages rested the photo of Ava McConnell’s students, of the children who needed to hear of Jesus.
How shall they believe if they have not heard, Lord? And how shall they hear without a preacher? Without the McConnells?

I flung back the covers and set my bare feet on the soft rug. If only I could go for a drive, with the stars as my light, the moon as my guide. Thunder rumbled, reminding me that no light existed this night. Just blackness where I longed for illumination. I squeezed my eyes shut.

One more race. After the McConnells left for New York, I’d tell Father everything.

No more hiding. No more lies.

But as I paced in the darkness, new realization dawned. I’d lied long before this moment. For years I’d hidden the part of me that loved speed, the roar of an engine. A lie by omission. And not just to my parents. To everyone.

Everyone but Webster.

Light slashed through my room. A boom rattled my windows. With a long leap, I reached my bed. I wrapped my arms around my legs and held my breath. Rain pelted against the glass. I let out my breath and rested my chin on my mountain of knees.

Lord, I’ve made an awful mess.
Turning the pillow to the cool side, I laid down again. Thunder clapped. I threw the sheet over my head and hugged my knees to my chest before allowing sleep to shield me from the storm.

Sometime later my eyes flew open. Gray clouds drifted across the darker sky, but no patter of rain broke the silence. Something else had awakened me. Something besides the abating storm. A thought skittering just out of reach.

I bolted upright.

Lawrence left without giving me my money.

Just after sunrise, I tiptoed into Grandmother’s room.

“Alyce?” She held out her hand toward me.

“How did you know it was me?” I kissed her forehead and perched on the bed beside her.

“I know your step—and I’ve missed it.”

“I’m sorry.” I leaned down and pressed my cheek to hers. “I’ve been . . . busy.”

Her smile faltered a bit. “You’re being careful with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” My throat tightened. Even when I managed to cover over the truth with my father, I couldn’t with her. I doubted she’d read me any better even if she had full use of her eyesight.

“Don’t shut me out, Alyce.” She laid a hand on her chest. “This heart will stop beating one day. But there’s nothing wrong with my real heart, the one that goes on forever. It’s the only one that matters. You know that.”

“I know.” My own heart felt squeezed to suffocation. By trying not to worry her, I’d burdened her all the same. “I’m sorry.”

She found my hand. “You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what’s troubling you.”

It didn’t take long to spill the story. I told her everything.

Well, almost everything.

I didn’t mention that Lawrence told Father he was the driver. Nor did I relate the tumult of emotions when his lips had almost touched mine. Nor the odd need I felt for Webster’s approval, and my desire to know more about him. Still, she knew about the money—and the racing.

I watched her face but couldn’t read her thoughts the way she seemed to read mine. A gust of wind fluttered her handkerchief off the bedside table. It sailed to the floor. I leaned over and picked it up, rubbed my fingers over the embroidered initials at the corner.

LB. Laura Benson.

She didn’t speak often of her life before Grandfather died. He left his son no legacy of money or faith. Only hard work. Father followed in his stead. After Grandmother embraced the love of the Lord, she hoped my family would eventually build a house on the cornerstone of Christ that would stand strong for generations to come. But it seemed that dream would fall to me alone. Had I failed her already?

I refolded the square of soft cotton and returned it to its usual place. Then Grandmother nodded. Just once, but decisively, as if acknowledging something.

“Esther. And Rahab. Jochebed, the mother of Moses, as well as the midwives that delivered those Hebrew babies. Even Jael. They all concealed something. Sometimes the Lord instructs His people to do a task that seems extraordinary. But always for a reason. Always for the good of His people as a whole.”

I squirmed. None of those women lied for the sake of money. To save lives, yes. But my situation wasn’t that dire. Nor that straightforward.

“But be very sure that is the Lord’s direction and not your own desire, Alyce. Sometimes our motives get so tangled up it’s hard to discern the difference.” Her brown-spotted hand clasped mine.

I worked to keep tears from slipping down my face. Maybe the Lord had led me to sit behind the wheel of Webster’s race car, but I doubted His intention had been for Lawrence and me to sit in front of my father and spew untruth.

“You must pray and then decide what to do, Alyce dear. And I’ll pray you have the strength for whatever that is.”

But in spite of my respect for Grandmother’s opinion, I couldn’t bring myself to undo what had been done. I would race on Saturday.

All during breakfast with Mother I prayed for a hot sun to bake the soupy roads. I had to get to Father’s office. I had to get my money from Lawrence. Finally, after a light lunch, I donned a wide-brimmed hat and dodged puddles on my way to the garage.

Webster looked up. His eyes shifted a bit before his throat rumbled and his hands danced in the folds of his rag. Whatever was bothering him, I didn’t have time to dig it out now. Maybe when I returned. I stepped into the Packard.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He stopped my door from closing.

“I have an appointment. In town.”

“Not on these roads you don’t.”

“I’ll go slow. I’ll be careful.” I pulled at the door. He refused to let go.

“I’m not coming to pull you out of the mud.”

I sniffed. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“But you will.”

My chin tipped upward as my eyebrows arched. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

A prick of conscience reminded me that Webster had proven himself a friend. But I couldn’t endure his scolding for my alliance with Lawrence. Our disagreement over that part of the plan still vexed me.

I pulled harder. He let go. The door slammed shut. I ignited the engine and puttered down the drive.

Before I reached the road, my heart condemned me. While maneuvering around a large circle of mud, I resolved to apologize after I motored home again, once the money resided in my handbag. Then I’d ask Webster to retrieve Grandmother’s box and the remainder of my money. No more confusion over whom to trust. I intended to safeguard my own funds now.

My back wheel splashed into a hole that was more water than mud. I cringed but kept going, thankful not to fulfill Webster’s dire prophecy of needing to be rescued from impassable roads. Then the street turned hard beneath my tires. Hard and bumpy. More like the bricks on the track in Indianapolis.

Would I be able to maintain the speed on brick I had on boards? I didn’t know. Perhaps the effort would jar my teeth from my head. Or prove the final surge toward my goal.

I wanted to win. But I only needed a top-three finish to gain the extra prize money. And I believed I could do it.

Sitting in front of Lawrence’s desk, my handbag in my lap, I questioned myself. Something had changed between last night and this morning. His eyes seemed . . . hungrier than before. Like a mangy dog eyeing a juicy steak. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or fearful.

I took a deep breath and shoved down my discomfort. A product of my imagination after a restless night, for sure. This was Lawrence. My friend. My ally. He’d said we made a great team.

“You forgot something yesterday evening.” The tease in my voice declared the situation a simple oversight.

He cocked his head and smoothed one wing of his mustache. “Ah. You mean the money.” He opened a drawer, pulled out the bundle of bills.

My smile turned genuine as tension ebbed from my body. I knew I’d guessed right. Caught up in the moment, he’d forgotten about the money. Heat crept up my throat and seeped into my face as I remembered just what that moment had been.

“Thank you.” I placed the cash in my handbag and clasped it shut. Would he mention our almost-kiss or did he expect some acknowledgment on my part first? I didn’t know. I waited in the silence, my temperature rising under his bold gaze.

“Well.” I stood, turned toward the door, waited again for him to say something.

He didn’t.

“I best be on my way.”

He opened the door, stared down at me with a knowing smile. “And what will you do with your windfall?”

“Put it with the rest, of course.”

“You’re a fool to trust him. Let me keep it.” He stepped closer, his body almost pressing into mine. “If you’ll bring me all your funds, I’ll hold them for you. I’d hate for anything to go wrong now.”