Inescapable (14 page)

But the loudest voice in my head warned me that circumstances could be combining together to create an inescapable avalanche of disaster that could end up burying me alive.

Cora was right about Fridays
being the busiest day in the restaurant. Weekends were seen as family time by the citizens of Kingdom, so Friday was the last chance to eat out for almost everyone except the single folks who liked to gather together on Saturday mornings. The day started off busy, and the pace kept up all the way through lunch. Cora warned me more than once that dinner would be a challenge, and I'd begun to worry. Would I be able to keep up? The last thing I wanted to do was to let Cora down.

Because of the increased business, she offered only four dinners on Fridays, which made things a little easier. The menu consisted of her famous meatloaf, roast beef with oven-browned potatoes, chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, and of course her wonderful fried chicken dinner. The meatloaf and roast beef were cooked ahead of time and kept warm, but Cora had to fry the chicken and steak as it was being ordered. That meant she wouldn't be able to help wait tables. I'd be on my own. By three o'clock I was already tired and fairly confident that by the time the restaurant closed, I'd be thoroughly exhausted.

Keeping up on orders and taking care of folks in the restaurant helped to keep my mind occupied, yet a cloak of fear enveloped me the entire time. Where was the man in the red cap? Would he suddenly burst in and have me arrested? Accuse me of stealing money from my employer while all our customers looked on? Would he bring the elders with him, all of them convinced I was guilty?

Besides the apprehension that clutched at my heart, I was also filled with an overwhelming sadness. Though we'd been in Kingdom less than a week, it was beginning to feel like home. Strange, because when I'd left five years ago, it hadn't felt like that at all. To say I was surprised by my reaction was an understatement. If given the chance, could we actually be happy here? Even with my father's rejection?

Ebbie Miller came in for a late lunch, and we talked some. He was as concerned as everyone else about the church, but he was convinced that prayer was the most important tool in bringing peace.

“I'm uncomfortable with the resentment I see building between brothers and sisters in the Lord,” he said softly. “How can Christ be honored through it?” I could see the pain in his dark brown eyes. “I appreciate the mediators who are trying to establish a dialogue and work this out, but I'm convinced my place is one of prayer. God can do what man cannot.”

Although I wasn't sure I agreed with him, I walked away thinking what a nice man he was. Maybe an arranged marriage with Hope would work after all. I certainly wasn't any expert on wedded bliss, so I intended to keep my opinion to myself. Watching their relationship evolve should prove to be very interesting. For Hope and Ebbie's sakes, I prayed it would work. However, it would take something a step beyond an orchestrated marriage to bring me a husband. Especially in Kingdom. No man in this town would ever be interested in damaged goods. Noah's face floated unbidden into my mind, and I pushed it quickly away.

A little after three thirty, Mother walked in the door. I motioned toward an empty table, where she took a seat. I went to get a pot of coffee and to warm up some leftover coffeecake from breakfast. Mother loved the desserts at Cora's, and it tickled me to share them with her. Partially because of the knowledge that my father would be upset to learn she was enjoying something he didn't allow.

“Are you angry with me?” Mother asked as I put our food on the table.

“I'm not really angry,” I said, “but I wish you'd held off until I was sure that was the right thing to do.” I poured coffee into both our cups and sat down.

She sighed as she reached for her cup. “I did not mean to speak to your father about your situation, but he could tell I was upset and insisted that I explain why.”

“Just because he
insists
doesn't mean he always has to get his way, you know.”

She gazed at me, a frown deepening the fine lines around her eyes. “I know that, Daughter. But I felt he would do the right thing. And I believe he did.”

As I reached for my napkin, I could see my hand shake. “So . . . did the elders find the guy? Did they speak to him?”

She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I do not know, but they did go to look for him. Your father was gone for quite a while last night. I believe he may have driven to Washington to see if the man was staying in a local motel.”

“He rode there in this weather? In the snow?”

Mother silently prayed over her food while I waited for her answer. I couldn't see my father putting out much effort for me. Especially when the roads were so bad.

“Yes,” she said when she lifted her head. “He came back very late, and I did not have a chance to ask him about his journey before he left this morning. He had to shoe two of Aaron Metcalf's horses. I stopped by the shop before coming here, but he was not there.”

I quietly sipped my coffee, trying to quell the queasy feeling in my stomach. Had Father confronted my stalker? What would happen now?

“Grandma!” Charity's voice rang out in the restaurant. She came running from the kitchen up to my mother. “Miss Cora and I made roast beef and meatloaf.” She took my mother's hand and smiled at her. “And it looks good, Grandma. Do you want some?”

Mother laughed and hugged her granddaughter. “Not right now, Charity, but thank you. I am sure it will be delicious. Which one will you have for dinner?”

She gazed gravely at Cora, who had followed her to our table. “I don't know. There will be fried chicken tonight too.” She sighed. “There are too many good things to eat here. It's quite a problem.”

Cora guffawed. “Well, that's the first time anyone ever called my food a problem.” She knelt down next to Charity. “Tell you what. How 'bout we fix you a plate with a little bit of everything? That way you can try them all. Wouldn't be right for you to miss the roast beef and meatloaf, since you helped to prepare it.”

Charity turned to stare at me, her eyes wide with amazement. “Mama, can I have some of all the dinners? That would be wonderful.”

I grinned at her. “Yes, as long as you only have a little bit of each one. I don't want to have to roll you upstairs.”

She giggled. “I won't eat too much. I promise.” She slid her hands down the front of her purple corduroy overalls. “I don't think I'm too fat. So it's okay.”

Mother chuckled. “You are not fat, Cherry Bear. You are just perfect.”

I was touched to hear my mother use my nickname for Charity, who wrapped her arms around her grandmother.

“Thank you, Grandma. And I think you're just perfect too.” She hesitated a moment. “Well, except for . . .”

“I know, I know,” my mother said. “The potty.”

Charity let go of her. “Yes, but I'm pretty sure it's not your fault. I think it's the fault of my grandpa. Why is he such a mean man, Grandma?”

Cora put her hands on Charity's shoulders. “I gotta start gettin' our steaks and chicken ready to fry,” she said quickly. “Are you gonna help me?”

“Oh yes, please. I like the noise it makes when the food goes in the fryer.”

“I like it too,” Cora said. “Say good-bye to Grandma and Mama for now.”

She waved her little hand. “Bye. I'll be cookin' if you need me.” With that she skipped away, headed toward the kitchen.

“Anna, I've never said anything negative about your husband in front of Charity,” Cora said, her tone serious. “I want you to know that. I'd never, ever do that.”

Mother reached out and put her hand on Cora's arm. “I believe you, Cora. You are not the person who painted that negative picture in the child's mind. Her grandfather did that all by himself. Please do not worry. I am so grateful to God for your intervention in the lives of my daughter and granddaughter. I cannot thank you enough for your generosity and care.”

Cora patted Mother's hand with her other one. “I'm the one who's been blessed, Anna. Havin' these two in my life . . . well, I don't feel so lonely anymore.” She looked at me with tears shining in her eyes. “You'd think bein' surrounded by folks all day would keep an old lady like me from feelin' alone, wouldn't you? But it's not true. At the end of the day, everyone goes home, and the silence is deafening. But with you and Charity here? Well, there's always someone waitin' for me. I haven't experienced that since Edgar died.” She let go of Mother's hand and dabbed at her eyes with her apron, leaving a spot of flour on each cheek. “Well, guess I better get into the kitchen before Charity tries fryin' up the chicken by herself.” She smiled. “And she could probably do it too.”

As Cora walked away, my mother shook her head. “I wonder sometimes how well I could cope without your father. Cora has business sense and skills, but I have no talent or abilities that would support me.”

“Mother, that's not true. “You're as good a cook as Cora, and you're a wonderful seamstress. Trust me, you'd have no trouble taking care of yourself.”

I couldn't help but wonder why she'd brought the subject up. Was it really because she was afraid of being a widow, or was there another reason she was thinking about life without my father? In my wildest imagination, I couldn't see her ever leaving him. It just wasn't done. Not in Kingdom anyway.

We finished our coffeecake, and Mother headed home, promising to let me know if she heard anything more about the man in the red ball cap.

Around four thirty, the café began to fill up in anticipation of a menu that wouldn't be served until five o'clock. As Cora promised, I was so busy I barely had enough time to catch my breath. Hope came in with her father. I was surprised to see Samuel in the restaurant, but though a little stiff, he was friendly toward me. I wondered how the meeting with the pastor and the elders had gone, but I didn't have the time or opportunity to ask Hope about it.

A little after seven thirty, Cora came out of the kitchen and pulled me aside. “We're pretty well caught up. I've got plenty of chicken and steak cooked and ready. Why don't you take a break? I'll serve the customers for a bit.”

I couldn't argue with her. My legs were so sore I could barely stand. Sitting down for a few minutes sounded like heaven. I handed her my order pad and went into the kitchen, where Charity was sitting at the small table Cora had put up for her. Paper was spread out all over the tabletop, and a large box of colorful crayons lay opened, a bright red one clutched in her hand.

“Looks like you've been drawing some wonderful pictures,” I said, sinking down into the chair across from her. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought my legs sighed with relief.

“I'm drawing stuff for you, and for Grandma, and for Miss Cora.” She pushed one of the pages toward me. “And I drawed this one for Grandpa. Can we give it to him?”

Her crude picture clearly showed a tall man with dark hair and a beard, dressed in black clothing, bent over with his arms out, hugging a little girl and a woman. It was obvious the child was Charity, and I was the other figure.

“Miss Cora said that God wants to answer our prayers, Mama,” she said softly. “So I drew my prayer. I want my Grandpa to love us. I asked God for it, and He told me He would do it.”

“G-God told you, Cherry Bear? What do you mean?”

“He told me.” She smiled. “He's workin' on it. God said to tell you not to be afraid anymore, Mama.”

Pain and exhaustion forgotten, I stared at my daughter with dismay. I knew Cora had been talking to her about God, but now Charity actually imagined He'd talked to her? What in the world could I say? How could I tell her that God doesn't have conversations with regular people? Before I could figure out how to respond, the door to the kitchen burst open and Cora came in. The look on her face struck fear into my heart. Was the man in the red ball cap in the café? Had I finally been exposed?

“Lizzie,” Cora said, her voice shaking. “There's someone here to see you. I didn't know what to tell him.”

I got up from the table and ran to the door, pushing it open. I looked out at the full tables, trying to spot a red cap, but there wasn't one. Even though I didn't see him at first, it really wasn't hard to spot the person Cora had been so concerned about. He was the only man sitting at a table by himself. We locked eyes at the same time, and a cold chill ran through me.

Staring back at me was Clay Troyer, Charity's father.

I pleaded with Cora
to keep Charity in the kitchen and then headed out into the dining room. After checking up on the customers, I walked slowly toward Clay's table, feeling as if I could barely control my body. My legs felt like gelatin, and the cold terror that seemed to hold my heart in its icy grip made it hard to breathe.

I quickly sat down across from him, only because I was worried about passing out. Why was he here? What could he want? He looked even more handsome than I remembered. His brown hair was combed back from his face, making his widow's peak visible. And although his eyes were hazel and Charity's were dark brown, the shape of his eyes and his turned-up nose were mirror images of my daughter's. The similarities were striking. Even more than I'd imagined. Not being able to find my voice, I simply waited.

“Hello, Lizzie,” he said finally. “Sorry to just drop in like this. I don't mean to upset you.”

“What do you want, Clay?” My voice was weak and shaky, but I didn't care.

He looked around the packed room. Several people stared at us. Although most Kingdom residents had never met Clay because he'd lived in Washington, it probably wasn't hard to put two and two together. Especially since he looked so much like Charity. “This might not be a good time to talk,” he said. “I know you're busy.”

“What do you want?” I asked again. “I'm not getting up from this table until you tell me why you're here.”

He cleared his throat. He was nervous, and it caught me by surprise. He'd always been so confident, so sure of himself.

“I've been looking for you for a long time, Lizzie,” he said, his voice low. “But no one here would tell me where you were.”

“That's interesting,” I said. “You knew where I was when I was pregnant. And you knew where I was for quite a while after Charity was born. Maybe I'm just forgetful, but I don't remember hearing anything from you. Of course, I was approached by your parents, offering me money for an abortion.”

“I-I know,” he stammered. “And I'm sorry. That wasn't my idea—it was my father's. He moved us from Washington, Lizzie, even though I didn't want to go.” He stared down at the table for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he looked up, I was startled to see tears in his eyes. “You probably won't believe this, but I wanted to marry you. My father freaked out, sold our house, and took Mom and me to Seattle.”

“I was still in Kingdom then, Clay,” I snapped. “Again, I don't remember receiving a proposal. Or anything else.”

He nodded. “I know, and you're right; I should have come for you sooner. I'm sorry. I was confused and a little afraid of my father. But I really did try to find you.” He shook his head. “If you can't forgive me, I'll understand. But if you would only talk to me, I—”

“Are you okay, Lizzie?”

I jumped at the sound of a male voice from behind me. Noah stood next to my chair, staring fiercely at Clay.

“I-I'm fine, Noah. But thanks for—”

“What are you doing here, Clay?” Noah said, cutting me off. “Seems like you're running about five or six years behind schedule.”

“Sorry,” Clay said darkly, “but I'm not sure what business this is of yours.” He looked back and forth between us. “Are you two—”

“No,” I said, quickly. “We're not anything.” I grabbed Noah's arm. “Thank you, Noah, but I'm okay. Really.”

He nodded slowly, still glaring at Clay. “If you need me . . . for any reason, just let me know.”

“I will. I promise. But for now, it might be best if you would go back and finish your pie.”

Noah finally stopped scowling at Clay and peered into my eyes. “All right. But I intend to hang around for a while. Until this guy leaves.”

Clay started to say something, but I held my hand up, and he shut his mouth.

“Thank you,” I said, “but that won't be necessary. Clay will be leaving shortly. Trust me.”

With one last withering look aimed at Clay, Noah turned and left.

“Wow, what's up with that guy?” Clay asked. “He always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. Especially when it came to you.”

“Maybe so,” I said. “But he's trustworthy and honest. Unlike some people.”

Clay's face fell. “I guess I deserve that, Lizzie. But all I'm asking for is thirty minutes of your time. I just want a chance to explain.”

“I really couldn't care less. Your explanation isn't the least bit important to me anymore.”

“Thirty minutes, and I'll never bother you again. I promise.” He blinked nervously several times. “And . . . maybe I could see Charity? Just once before I go?”

That same frozen hand of fear tightened around my heart again. “Why, Clay?”

He leaned closer to me, and I could smell the scent of his cologne. It was the same one he'd worn the night Charity was conceived. Just that brief whiff made me feel a little faint. “Lizzie, I'm not here to hurt you. Please believe me. I just came to apologize and offer you some help. Financially, I mean. You should have had my support all along, and I want to make it up to you. There's a check for five thousand dollars in my pocket. I know it's not enough, but at least it's a start. And if you decide you don't want me to see Charity, I'll accept that. I'll still help you both with whatever you need.”

“What I
needed
was
you
. In person. Not your money, although that certainly would have made things easier.” I noticed Cora taking an order from a nearby table. “I've got to get back to work,” I said, standing to my feet. “Cora needs me.”

“Will you let me wait for you until the restaurant closes?” he pleaded. “Please, Lizzie.”

I wanted to tell him no. Wanted to order him to get out, but the man in the red ball cap was still out there. If I suddenly had to leave Kingdom, that five thousand dollars could be the difference between losing Charity or keeping us together. How could I afford to send him away?

“I guess you can stay, but I have no intention of letting you hurt my daughter. You've caused all the damage you're going to.”

“I understand.”

I started to walk away when I thought of something and came back. “How did you know I was here? Did Roger Carson tell you?”

Clay didn't say anything, just looked at me.

“You can tell me the truth. He's the only person I've seen who would contact you.” I shook my head. “He acted like he cared about me, even gave me his number and told me to call him if I needed help. I threw his card away because I knew he couldn't be trusted. Boy, I was right about that.”

“Roger called me because he
does
care, Lizzie. He knew I'd been looking for you and was trying to help the both of us.”

I snorted. “Yeah, sure. Well, thank him for me the next time you talk to him. 'Cause I'll never speak to him again as long as I live.”

As I worked to serve the last of our customers, anger fueled me with new energy. Then, as the hour grew later, I began to wonder just who I was mad at. Roger? He barely knew me. Most likely, he really was trying to help his friend, although it would have been nice if he'd asked me what I wanted. Clay? Because he was trying to make things right? In the end, I was probably just angry at myself. I'd caused my own problems from start to finish. If I'd said no to Clay, I wouldn't be in this mess. Of course, every time I thought that, I also had to face the fact that if I'd said no, I wouldn't have Charity. And I wasn't sorry about that. Not at all.

Mother's words about beauty for ashes floated into my mind. Maybe all the bad things that had happened to me weren't God's punishment after all. Ruth's words, which echoed my grandmother's, came back to me.
“Your father's love has been conditional, based on your actions. But God's love is not so. His love never changes. He accepts you unconditionally.”
Two fathers. Two different reactions. Or were they? I felt so confused I wasn't certain about anything anymore. After writing down Avery Menninger's order wrong, I forced myself to quit thinking about my troubles. I owed it to Cora to concentrate on the job at hand.

It was almost nine thirty when the last family headed out and Cora locked the door behind them. I was cleaning the dishes off their table when she came up next to me. She cast a quick glance at Clay, who had waited patiently for almost two hours.

“Never thought I'd see Clay Troyer again,” she said quietly.

“I didn't either.”

“I used to buy almost all my supplies from his daddy when he ran that wholesale grocery business in Washington. As soon he was old enough to drive, Clay started delivering them.” She shook her head. “Didn't like Art Troyer. Mean cuss. His wife always looked so beat down.” She shrugged. “Clay was always nice to me, though. A lot nicer than his father.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought once. That he was nice, I mean. But I found out the hard way that there's more to him than meets the eye.”

“It's that way with most folks,” she said. “I don't like people who show me one face but are busy hidin' behind another one.” She smiled at me. “That's one of the reasons I like you so much, Lizzie. You're exactly who you say you are. One of the most honest people I've ever known.”

I felt shamed by her words. If she knew the real reason I'd come to Kingdom, she'd probably be disappointed in me. Just like everyone else.

“What do you want me to do with Charity?” She cocked her head toward the kitchen.

I stepped a little closer to her to ensure that Clay couldn't hear us. “Would you please take her upstairs for a while? I know you're tired, and it's asking a lot, but I won't be long. I intend to get him out of here as quickly as possible.”

“Of course I will,” she said. “I'd rather spend time with Charity than go home alone. No need to hurry.” She reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Be careful, Lizzie Lynn. The devil can appear as an angel of light.”

I hugged her. “Clay's not the devil, Cora. But I'll be on my guard.”

She nodded. “Okay. I'll be prayin' for you, if you don't mind.”

“No, I don't mind. I'll come and get you as soon as—”

Before I could finish my sentence, someone began banging on the front door with so much force the windows rattled.

“What in the world?” Cora said. She hurried up to the front door as the knocking grew louder. “Avery, stop poundin' on my door like that,” she yelled. “You're gonna break somethin'.”

I followed her to the front of the room and waited as she unlocked the entrance. Avery Menninger stepped inside, his eyes wild, his hat missing, and his hair standing on end.

“We've got to call the sheriff, Cora,” he shouted. “Right away.”

“Avery, calm down,” Cora said. “What in heaven's name has you in such a tizzy?”

He collapsed into a nearby chair. “I was on my way home, almost to the main road, when I saw an orange car parked on the side of the road. Seemed odd, like some stranger made a wrong turn, so I stopped to see if I could help. Thought the driver had plowed into a tree, 'cause his front bumper was messed up. But there weren't no tree anywhere close to him. Checked inside the car, but it was empty, so I hitched Glory up to the bumper of the car and went lookin' for the driver with my flashlight.”

He gulped and ran his hand over his face. “And I found him all right. Lyin' in the ravine off the side of the road, his head all bashed in.” His eyes moved quickly between the three of us. “Stone-cold dead, he is. Stone-cold dead.”