Healing Waters (48 page)

I peered through the rain and turned on the windshield wipers. Still no Bethany, though I did see Miss Richardson, so she was probably in the line right inside the door staying dry. Within fifteen minutes she would be seeing her mother for the first time in who knew how long. Seeing her without being afraid that she'd be scolded for viewing that creature without her face.

I'd shown the new drawing to Sonia—a picture of a curly-hairedround-faced being with the tiniest of smiles on her face.

“I don't think she's going to scream this time,” I said. “I don't know for sure, but—”

Sonia had put her hand on my arm. Her skin was icy. Fearful.

“Lucia,” she said. “I know you can't do it
for
me—but can you teach me?”

“Teach you what?” I said.

“Can you teach me how to be a mother?”

I swiped at the tears under my eyes now. This was not the time to start crying, with Bethany moments away. Maybe I
should
just go in and get her.

I reached for the door handle just as Miss Richardson appeared on the passenger side, face surrounded by a hood. I rolled down the window.

“Hi, Aunt Lucia Mom,” she said. “Did you forget something?”

I laughed. “I know I'm a few minutes later than usual, but her mom came home today.” I waved myself off. “Is Bethany inside?”

I watched the color drain from the young woman's face.

“No,” she said. “I'm confused. Did you bring her back after you picked her up?”

“I didn't pick her up. I just got here.”

“But you drove up—and you waved—and she got right in the car.” Her hand went to her forehead.

Mine clawed at the door until I got myself out. “She did not get in this car,” I said. “That wasn't her you saw.”

“It was! The windshield was fogged up, but she got in so happy—Oh my Lord—”

I had already gone where her mind was headed, shouting Bethany's name, pushing through the wide-eyed children against the wall, knowing I wouldn't find her there.

“Lucia—Lucia, what's wrong?”

Francesca Christie was at my elbow, and I snatched up her sleeve in my hand as I screamed into her face.

“Bethany! They've taken Bethany!”

Una Eremenko had changed less than anyone or anything Sully had seen since he'd returned to Nashville. Standing in the dark, wide-open vestibule of Benton Chapel, she was the same sturdy, bob-haired, clear-faced woman who had soothed their souls at SATCO thirteen years before. There was perhaps a bit of seasoning now in the slight forward roll of her shoulders and the shadow on her former blondeness, but she was still as hale and natural as a farm girl.

She was gazing up at a gaunt sculpture of Christ crucified. Only when Sully was close enough to startle her from her reverie did he see what
had
changed. The gray-green eyes had gathered wisdom. Whatever she had done with her life in the past decade, it had placed her among the sages.

When she saw him, her arms went around him, wordlessly, and she hung on until he realized she was silently crying.

“Sully, Sully, Sully,” she said. “I'm so glad you still look like an overgrown boy.” She held him out at arm's length, eyes streaming without embarrassment as she looked into his. “But I see you've grown up after all.”

“I'm not so sure, Una,” he said.

“I am. I see it.” She squeezed his shoulders, still making no attempt to brush away her tears. “This world breaks your heart, does it not?”

Sully nodded. There would be no pleasantries in this conversation, no obligatory exchange of résumés while they privately tapped their mental toes to get on with what they had come to say. He was as grateful for that as he was unnerved by it.

“Let's go inside,” she said. “It's empty.”

The chapel itself was starker, had more rectangular lines than he remembered, though maybe back then things like warmth and hue hadn't meant as much to him. The stained-glass windows consisted of colored squares that inspired nothing. Only the smell of candle wax and worn hymnals gave it the feel of a place of reverence.

Sully followed Una to a back pew, where she sat in the dimness and patted the seat for him to join her. “I've hoped for years that I could talk to you,” she said. “I think you and I loved Lynn more than anyone did.”

“I . . . I didn't know you were that close to her,” Sully said. “I sure didn't know you grieved so hard for her. I only started to genuinely grieve myself recently.” He ran his toe along a kneeler. “I don't know if you knew, Una, but Lynn's death wasn't an accident. I know what the papers said, and what we didn't say at the funeral, but . . .” He trailed off as she drew her brows together.

“I knew. Is that why you wanted to see me? To tell me?”

“Partly. And to see if you knew anything that might help me understand why.” Sully pulled his arms around himself to keep his heart from slamming through his chest. “Now that I'm here, I'm not sure I want to know.”

Una cocked her head, sending the bob against her cheek. “I know your work, Sully. The only way out is through. In the
why
is the
what next
. Those are wise words.”

“Until you have to use them on yourself.”

“You don't think it was the postpartum depression?”

“You knew about that too?”

“I would have had to be blind not to. Sully—the shape she was in—what more is there to know?”

Sully steepled his fingers at his forehead. “I need to know if it was me too—if I wounded her somehow, so deeply that the depression took her over the edge.”

“Sully, Sully, no. Lynn loved nothing in this world as she did you. Nothing. She lived for you, and you never failed her.”

“Then why do I feel like there's more, Una?”

She pulled Sully's hands into hers. “I spent years—
years
—trying to understand why Lynn did what she did. I even read your books, hoping you'd show me. And do you know what I found out?” She squeezed emphatically. “I found out that I
can't
know. Only God knows. I had to leave it at that.”

Sully shook his head. “Somehow, I can't.”

She let the stillness press them for a minute before she said, “I'm curious about something.”

“Yeah?”

“You seemed surprised that I already knew Lynn's death was a suicide. I knew it the minute I heard what happened.” Her eyes flooded again. “That's why I avoided you. I thought you'd be angry with me.”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I didn't stop her.”

Sully shook his head. “How could you? She never threatened to take her own life. I had no idea she'd even thought of it.”

Una put both hands to her mouth.

“What?” Sully said. “Did she say something to you?”

“She said she didn't really want to die, but she couldn't see how she could go on living the way she was . . . so imperfect.”

“She told you that?”

“I thought she told you, too, Sully, I swear I did. Her therapist— I can't remember the woman's name . . .”

“Belinda Cox.”

“Lynn said she told her to pray about it . . . that suicide was a sin, and she needed the power of God.”

It was harsh, clear, and Sully pushed through it as he rose from the bench. “She knew? That woman
knew
Lynn was thinking of killing herself, and didn't call me?”

“Yes.” Una's face seized as she stood up to face him. “I'm sorry, Sully. I'm so sorry.”

Sully put his arms around her and let her sob into his chest.

“It's all right, Una,” he whispered to her.

But he knew it would never be all right again.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

T
hose TV people are all over the place. I just caught one drippin' wet, trying to look in Sonia's bedroom window.”

Deidre Schmacker turned from Sonia and me and drooped her eyes at Francesca. “I'll send someone out to tell them to back off. The local police are on their way to try to keep some order.”

Francesca raked her fingers through her swing of hair. “Can I get ya'll anything? Water? Diet Coke?”

“Why don't you make these ladies some hot tea?” Deidre said.

I didn't tell Francesca that no amount of the tea she rushed off to brew could calm what throbbed in me. In the two hours since Nina Richardson and I knew someone had abducted Bethany, my heart had not stopped drumming the beat of terror. There was no pit deep enough to bury that in.

Beside me on the couch in the Gathering Room, Sonia still clutched my arm in the vise grip she'd had on it since Francesca and the FBI and I had arrived at the house. She'd said very little after the initial battering of horrified questions, but the fear she couldn't show on her face pulsed in her fingertips.

Deidre set her pad aside and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “The thing we have going for us is that her abductor didn't have much of a head start, and we have the make and model of the car, if it is indeed identical to your Escalade. We've put out an Amber Alert.” She looked up at the doorway. “What do you have?”

Agent Ingram joined us, face showing nothing.

“I think Nina Richardson has told us everything she can,” he said. “It was raining, so she didn't get a good look at the face through the windshield.”

“Why didn't she make sure it was Lucia?” Sonia said.

“Bethany evidently got into the car with no hesitation. The teacher saw her smile at the driver. There was no reason for her to check.”

“There was a reason! She knew Bethany was at risk.”

“If it's anyone's fault, it's mine,” I said. “If I had been there on time—”

“Both of you listen to me.” Deidre's voice was mother-firm. “The fault lies with the person who went to the lengths to obtain a vehicle identical to yours, choose a day when visibility was low, and be at the front of the line when school let out.”

She looked at each of us in turn. “We are talking about someone who planned this very carefully, someone determined to make it happen. Short of staring at the child 24/7, nothing that you, Lucia, or Bethany's teacher could have done was going to prevent it.”

She glanced at Ingram. “If anyone is at fault, it's us for not being able to apprehend the perpetrator sooner.”

“Then it's the same person who tried to kill me, is that what you're saying?” Sonia's voice rose. “Some professional assassin has my child?”

“No,” I said. “I know Bethany. She wouldn't get in the car with somebody she didn't know. She wouldn't even stand in the doorway when the mailman came.” My voice broke. “She told me, ‘If someone wants to take you, they will.' And they did.”

I jerked away from Sonia and staggered to the window, where I could choke down the sobs.

Sonia turned on Deidre. “If what you've been telling me all this time is true,” she said, “it doesn't matter whether she knows him or not. I supposedly knew him, and he tried to kill me, so now he's going to kill her—”

“Stop it, Sonia. Just stop.”

The three of them turned to me as one. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from flying out of my skin, but I didn't try to stifle what wouldn't stay back.

“They're doing everything they can,” I said. “They have been for weeks, and you refused to do anything to help them. All you could say was that God's hand was in it.”

“Don't talk to me about God.” Sonia's voice was dead. “I devoted my life to Him, and He still allowed this to happen to me. I can't believe in a God like that.”

Deidre gave me a full look before she turned her eyes back to her pad. Ingram cleared his throat.

“Let's not assume that our kidnapper is bent on hurting Bethany,” he said. “He may be after money now. He could feel like we're closing in on him, and he wants cash to leave the country.”

Deidre nodded with him. “We're set up in case either of you gets a ransom call. We need to go over what you're to say and not say.”

“I will give him whatever he wants,” Sonia said. “I'll call my accountant.”

I didn't tell her that she no longer had an accountant or that a big chunk of her money was gone. Nor did I demand to know why she was suddenly willing to give everything up for her daughter, when until now she had let that baby girl sacrifice her whole being for her. That wasn't what tore at my throat and shook my soul.

I wanted Bethany on the floor at my feet, with her tongue at the corner of her mouth and her precious rag around her neck, drawing a picture of Harry the Heron. I groaned inside to have her look up at me and say, “Aunt Lucia Mom, do you want to see?” For that I would rip out my heart again and put her into Sonia's arms and this time teach my sister how to have what I had with her child—what I would give up once more and never have again, just to see her red bow mouth.