Final Call (15 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

“Will you let me know what you find out tomorrow when you speak with
Middlebury?” Mary asked.

“Yes, I’ll let you know as soon as I can get in to see him,” he replied.
“Are you going to be in the office tomorrow?”

“Oh, crap,” Mary said, suddenly remembering her computer was at the office.

“What?” Bradley asked.

“Oh, nothing, I left my laptop on my desk in the office,” she said. “I
guess I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Bradley turned the cruiser around without a comment. “It’s not a big deal,
Mary,” he said. “We’ll be at your office in less than five minutes.”

“Thanks.”

True to his word, they pulled up in front of Mary’s office in the old
brownstone on Main Street in downtown Freeport a few minutes later. Mary jumped
out of the car. “I’ll just run in,” she said, “I won’t be a minute.”

Dashing across the sidewalk, she had her key in hand, ready to quickly
unlock the door. Surprised when she found it unlocked, she wondered if she was that
distracted today that she left her office without locking her door?

She cautiously entered the building, just in case someone was already
inside. For a moment she considered alerting Bradley, and then shook her head.
No, I probably just left it open and really,
I don’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than it should be.

The streetlight outside lit the interior of the office and she could see no
one else was inside. Her computer sitting on her desk verified that her fears
of a break-in were unfounded. If anyone had been in the office, they would have
certainly taken the computer. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Hurrying forward, she moved the mouse, to see what she had left open on the
screen. Saving the opened documents, she shut down the computer and reached
over to unplug the computer from its base.

The sleeve of her coat caught on a glass of water, tumbling it sideways
onto her desk.

“Crap!”

She quickly moved the laptop out of the way and saved the paperwork around
the spill. Then she grabbed a handful of tissues and blotted up the water. In a
few moments, the mess was cleaned up and Mary was left with a handful of
sopping wet tissues.

She carried the tissues into the little bathroom off her office area. She
was surprised to find the light on in the bathroom. What was she thinking about
when she left that afternoon?

The toilet cover was up, so Mary decided to try a three-point shot from the
doorway. She aimed, tossed and splash! Just a little rim, but she wouldn’t
count it. She was just turning away from the bathroom, congratulating herself
on her basketball prowess, when the power of the explosion knocked her off her
feet and back into the office.

Bradley not only heard the explosion, but felt it rock his car. He felt the
same panic he experienced when he’d received the call so many years ago that
his house had been robbed. He rushed into the office building, screaming her
name without even being aware of it.

The wall between the bathroom and the office was nearly gone. Bits of the
toilet littered the room. He searched desperately for Mary, but couldn’t see
her at first. “Mary,” he yelled. “Mary, where are you?”

A soft moan sounded from underneath the bathroom door that now lay on the
floor. He rushed over, moved the door to the side and knelt down next to her.
He laid his hand on her throat and checked her pulse, it was strong. He looked
over her body for cuts, but her heavy winter coat and the bathroom door had shielded
her from most of the damage. She had a scratch on her forehead that was
bleeding, but for the most part, she looked okay. Bradley exhaled a shaky
breath of relief. He stroked her cheek. “Mary, can you speak to me?”

“I hit a three-pointer and the toilet exploded,” she moaned. “That’s never
happened before.”

“Good thing it was only a basket toss and you weren’t sitting on it...” His
voice froze.

She blinked her eyes open. “I could have been killed,” she whispered. “If
I’d been sitting there, I would have been killed.”

When she shivered, he gathered her into his arms and held her tightly for a
moment.
To hell with
the new rules.

She let herself enjoy being held in his arms again for a few moments, then
put her hands against his chest and gently pushed him away. “We really need to
turn the water off before my office and any evidence gets washed away,” she
said.

He nodded and helped her into her desk chair. “You sit here and call this
in,” he said. “I’ll turn off the water in the basement.”

A few minutes later, the Freeport Police Department was cataloguing
anything that could possibly hold clues and Bradley was on the phone with the
regional Bomb Squad.

Mary had discovered, to her relief, that her computer had not been damaged
in the explosion. She had packed it up, along with any other pertinent files
and now waited impatiently as the paramedics checked her over.

After patching her forehead, they had run her through a series of tests to
be sure she hadn’t experienced a concussion.
If they shine that damn flashlight into my eyes one more time,
she
thought.

“I’ll take Miss O’Reilly home now,” Bradley interrupted her threat. “If
there are any problems I’ll bring her into the ER.”

He helped Mary to her feet, grabbed her gear and walked her to the door. Spying
the keys still in the lock, he pulled them out and threw them to one of his
officers. “Lock up after you’re done and bring the keys back to me tomorrow.”

“Why the quick rescue?” Mary asked softly.

“You looked like you were going to take one of the paramedics out,” he
replied. “I was rescuing them, not you.”

She smiled. “I don’t like being treated like an invalid,” she said. “I’m
not a weakling.”

“No one would ever confuse you for a weakling,” he assured her.

He helped her into the car and drove her home. She was a little leery when
she saw the lights on in her house. “Bradley,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I
know I didn’t leave the lights on at home.”

He patted her hand calmly. “No, you didn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, I should
have told you. I called Rosie and asked her to meet us here. You’re not
supposed to be alone tonight, because of your possible head injuries and
considering our...”

Mary smiled sadly. In the past Bradley would have been the one to stay with
her and make sure she was fine.
But now...

“Thank you,” she said. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

He helped her up the stairs, which were pretty slick from the snow and ice.
She ached all over, but she didn’t think her injuries were any worse than that
and didn’t know if the warmth from Bradley’s arm around her waist was helping,
or in the end, hurting her even more.

Rosie gathered her in her arms once she came through the door. “Bradley
told me your toilet exploded,” she said. “You know I’ve been telling you for
months you needed to have a better diet.
More regular.
The Surgeon General now says that fiber is an important part of your daily
routine, if you know what I mean.”

Mary caught the laughter in Bradley’s eyes and smiled back, both trying not
to laugh.

“You silly goose,” Stanley said, walking out of the kitchen, wiping his
hands on a towel. “It wasn’t that kind of explosion. Someone put a bomb in
Mary’s toilet.”

“Oh, a real bomb,” Rosie repeated.
“Oh, Mary, how
frightening.”

“Well, I checked the toilets in the house,” Stanley said. “Everything’s
working just fine and dandy.”

“Thank you,” Mary said.

“No problem,” Stanley said, glaring at Bradley. “You’ve got to have some
men in your life you can count on.”

“Stanley,” Mary chided, “be nice.”

Bradley stepped away from the group. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said.
“And give you any updates.”

“Okay, thanks, Bradley,” she replied.

“Well, if you need anything,” he said, standing at the doorway.

“
Iffen
she needs anything, she’s got plenty of
friends she can call on,” Stanley said.

Bradley stiffened, “Well, good night then.”

The door closed with a sharp snap.

Rosie was confused. “We don’t like Bradley anymore?” she asked.

“No,” Mary said. “We like Bradley a lot. It’s just...”

“It’s just that he’s got the brains of a snowball and he hurt our Mary’s
heart.”

“He hurt you?” she asked. “But I thought he loved you.”

Mary made her way slowly to the closet to take off her coat. “Well, he
thinks I lied to him,” she said. “And he’s going through a rough time.”

“Why would he think you lied to him?” she asked.

“Because I did,” Mary replied.

“Oh, well that makes sense,” Rosie said, biting her lower lip. “It does
doesn’t
it?”

“No it
don’t
,” Stanley growled. “Mary didn’t lie,
she just didn’t tell him something because she promised someone else she
wouldn’t. So it weren’t a lie.”

Rosie nodded. “But you still love him and that’s the problem.”

Mary sighed. “Yes, that was the problem.”

Chapter Thirty-two

The children were finally asleep and the house was quiet for the night. Lucinda
walked through the darkened hallways and listened to the sounds of the night. This
house had always been a peaceful, safe place for her family and now they were
going to have to leave it.

She entered the kitchen, put on the kettle and took a cup from one of the
cupboards. She walked across the room to the pantry. There on the door frame
they had marked the heights of the children as they had grown. Little pencil
marks with dates and heights. A history of their little family and someone else
would paint over it.

Hezekiah stood next to her, looking at the marks on the frame. He had
forgotten about those marks. He looked at the first one with Rudy’s name on it
and remembered how he had toddled up to the mark every day and asked, “Is I
bigger now?” Next to that one were a dozen more, just centimeters apart to show
Rudy’s progress through the following weeks and months. He recalled he had been
impatient with the boy. “You didn’t grow overnight,” he had said. But Lucinda
had taken the time to measure him and reassure him each and every day.

Lucinda brushed her hand over those marks and a tear slipped down her
cheek. “Dear Lord,” she prayed out loud. “Help me to know what to do.”

He turned to her and tried to catch the tear in his finger, but it slid
through him.

She walked over to the table and sat down in a chair. Clasping her hands
together, she bowed her head and prayed. “Dear Lord,” she said. “I don’t know
what to do. I don’t know if I have the courage to take on this calling, but I
have to think of my children’s welfare too. I want to do Thy work and fulfill
whatever calling Thou would see fit to offer me. But, Lord, we both know that I
am an imperfect servant.”

“No, Lucinda, you weren’t imperfect, I was,” he said.

“Lord, I tried to do thy will. I tried to be a proper helpmate for my
husband. I tried to honor his work and support him, but I failed time and time
again.”

“No, you never failed,” he cried. “You never failed me.”

“How can I take on the needs of the congregation, when I couldn’t even take
care of the needs of one man?” she wept. “How can I show Christ-like love, when
my own husband never loved me?”

“Oh, Lucinda,” he sobbed, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I did love you. I
did. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, but I was too stupid to
see it.”

“Lord, you need a woman capable of inspiring love,” she sniffed. “And I’m
afraid I just can’t do that. So, Lord, I’ve made up my mind and tomorrow I’m
going to turn down this job. I pray, Lord, that you will help me and direct me
to find some way to take care of my family.”

“No Lucinda, you need to take this
job,” he said. “The congregation needs you. The children need to stay here.
And, I need a chance to beg you for forgiveness. Lucinda, please, you’ve got to
change your mind.”

Lucinda stood up, walked over to the
stove and turned off the kettle. Then she walked across the room and stopped in
front of Hezekiah. She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and took a
deep breath. “Lord, if you want me to stay here,” she said. “Please send me
some kind of sign. I just need a sign.”

She stepped forward, walking right
through Hezekiah. She shivered and hugged herself against the sudden cold. As
she left the room, she reached over and turned off the light.

Once again, Hezekiah was left standing
in the dark. But this time he knew what he had to do.
He thought about the young lady, Mary O’Reilly,
who said she helped ghosts. If there was ever a ghost who needed help, it was
him.

Mary lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling wondering how she was going
to deal with the future. Her body hurt, her head hurt and, most of all, her
heart hurt. It was fairly obvious things weren’t going to be easy between
Bradley and herself. She was beginning to understand that you really can’t go
back. They couldn’t just pretend nothing happened between them. Couldn’t
pretend they didn’t say they loved each other.
Couldn’t
change the past few months.
So, what’s next?

“Young lady?
Uh, Mary,” the voice seemed to be coming from far
away.

Mary sat up in bed and winced. “Hello, Reverend,” she called, “I’m here.”

He slowly appeared next to her bed. “I beg your pardon,” he gasped. “I had
no idea I would be coming to your private quarters.”

“No, you’re fine,” she said. “I have company and it would be better to discuss
whatever you need to talk about in here.”

He started to speak and then stopped. She could see the tears welling in
his eyes and his struggle to get the words out. “Lucinda,” he said, his voice
cracking. “Lucinda doesn’t think I love her.”

“Why would she think that?” Mary asked.

Tears fell freely now. “Because, fool that I am, I never told her,” he
said, shame written on his face. “Never took the time to appreciate her.
Only thought of myself.”

“And why is Lucinda knowing you loved her so important now?” she asked.

“Because she won’t take the job as minister,” he said. “She’s a much better
minister than I ever was, ever could be. And she won’t take the job because she
feels she failed our relationship.”

“So what would you like me to do?”

“Go to her. Tell her I love her. Tell her I was a fool. Do whatever you
have to do to convince her that I was wrong,” he said.

“Reverend...”

“Hezekiah, please,” he interrupted.

“Hezekiah. Why would she believe me?” she asked. “I’m a stranger. Why would
she think I would know your feelings better than she would?”

“There has to be a way,” he said. “I can’t have been led this far without
being able to repent of my pride.”

He wiped his tears and then looked up at her. “Rachael,” he said. “My
daughter, Rachael can help you. She seems to have your gift.”

“That just might work,” Mary said.