Irene Brand_Yuletide_01 (17 page)

“Yes. That probably won’t scare them any more than if they keep wondering what’s going on.”

Lance walked downstairs with Janice.

“Be careful,” she said, and her voice trembled.

He drew her close and whispered into her hair. “This may be the end of your troubles, honey. Hang in there a little longer.”

Brooke and Taylor sat at the kitchen table, their eyes wide with fright.

“What’s wrong, Janice?” Brooke said. She was visibly shaking. Taylor’s lips trembled and tears glinted in her eyes. “Why are the police here?”

“The police have found a large amount of drugs in our attic. Actually, Hungry found them. They’re going to remove it from the house, and they’re afraid the people who own the drugs might try to stop them. They want us to stay out of the way until everything is safe. Bring some snacks and games. We’ll wait in the bedroom.”

Dale entered the kitchen and put his arms around Taylor. “Be a brave girl, honey. I can’t take you home because the police need our help, but I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Taylor hugged his neck. “I won’t be afraid if you’re with me. I love you, Daddy.”

A helpless look in his eyes, Dale exchanged glances with Lance and Janice.

During the remainder of the morning, Janice exercised all of her will power to remain serene and pretend that she wasn’t worried so the children wouldn’t be alarmed. She took a book into the bedroom and kept her eyes on the pages that she turned occasionally, although she didn’t read a word. She encouraged Brooke and Taylor to play several board games, which kept them occupied.

An hour passed before she heard heavy treads in the hallway. Someone had arrived, and she prayed it was the police, rather than the drug dealers.

Another hour passed. All she could do was sit, wait and pray that trouble would be averted. She was proud of Brooke and Taylor, who were calmer than she was. After they tired of the games, they propped themselves up on the beds with pillows, put on their headphones and listened to some music.

Janice figured Linda was probably beside herself, wondering why Taylor hadn’t come home. But surely knowing Lance was with Dale, she wouldn’t worry about Taylor’s welfare. When she could no longer sit still, she paced the floor until Brooke said, “Janice, you’re making me nervous.”

She took a deep breath and tried to relax as she sat down again, but there was a heavy feeling in her stomach. Would her misery never end? When she thought she’d scream if she had to stay cooped up in the room another minute, a soft knock sounded at the door and Janice jumped as if she’d been shot.

“It’s Lance,” he said, opening the door. “Everything is over now.”

Janice hurried toward him. “No problems?”

“No. The money and drugs are in an armored car on the way to the county seat. They didn’t count the money, but clearly there were thousands of dollars in that safe, mostly in twenty- and fifty-dollar bills.” He ran his hand over her hair. “You’ve been living in Fort Knox and didn’t know it.”

“Any clues to who’s responsible?”

“Not a thing, but Baxter is going to post two guards upstairs for a few days until they can check out the whole attic.”

“That sounds good to me. I’ve been wondering if I could ever spend another night in this house.” She started trembling and, oblivious to the startled children, Lance drew her to him in a close hug.

“I wouldn’t have let you stay here by yourself tonight,” he
said. “But it might still be a good idea for you to go to Henrietta’s for a few nights.”

“Are you going to marry Janice, Uncle Lance?” Taylor said hopefully.

Dale, coming down the stairs, heard her remark.

“Mind your own business, girl,” he said. “Whether Lance is married or not won’t make one bit of difference in bringing your mother and me back together.”

She started crying. “But I want to be a family again.”

“Well, I’d like that, too,” Dale said, with pain marking his eyes, “but your mother and I will have to make that decision. Get your things. It’s time for us to leave.”

Baxter came downstairs, and Janice moved out of Lance’s arms.

“Miss Reid, I’m sorry to impose on you, but I must keep some of my men here for a few days to be sure we haven’t overlooked any evidence.”

She nodded assent. “What can I do to make them comfortable?”

“Not a thing. They can bring sleeping bags, and we’ll provide food for them. One of the troopers will stay in the room, and another will guard the stairway. We’ll change men every day.”

Dale was helping Taylor into her coat and boots, and Lance and Janice walked to the porch with Sergeant Baxter. A car sped up the driveway scattering snow behind it.

“We made it in the nick of time,” Baxter muttered as Chief Goodman and his brother jumped out of the car.

“What’s going on here?” the chief of police said.

“What makes you think anything’s going on?” Baxter asked.

“Winston saw a whole squad of police cruisers and an armored vehicle in the driveway.”

“We uncovered some illegal drugs in the attic. We’ve taken possession of them,” Baxter said.

“Why wasn’t I notified?”

“It’s a state and county matter.”

The chief turned to Janice. “Why’d you call them instead of me?” he said. “I thought you and me were friends.”

“I hope we still are,” Janice said. “But I thought the situation warranted more help than you could give.”

“I told Janice to call the state police,” Lance said. “We didn’t know what we’d find in that room until they broke down the door.”

“I want to see what you found,” Goodman said belligerently, attempting to push his way into the house.

“I guess you have the right to know what’s happened,” the sergeant said. “Come with me.”

Dale and Taylor stepped aside to let the three cops into the hallway.

“The chief’s car is blocking your vehicle,” Lance said to Dale.

“If Janice doesn’t mind, we’ll turn around in the yard. With the heavy snow, it won’t make any ruts. I’ll be in the doghouse for exposing Taylor to this danger, so I need to get her home to her mother.”

“I’ll go with them and get my car,” Lance said. “With all the traffic in here this afternoon, the road is clear enough for me to drive my car up the driveway.”

Janice waved goodbye to them and turned into the hallway. Her phone was ringing and she took it out of her pocket.

“Miss Reid, this is Loren Santrock. Are you all right? I’ve just heard that there are a lot of police cruisers at your home. I’m snowbound like everyone else, but if you’re in trouble, I’ll find some way to come help you.”

Janice was warmed by his concern. “Oh, thank you for calling, but everything is all right now. It’s been a terrible day. We discovered that people have been using Mountjoy as a headquarters for drug trafficking.” She went on to explain how the cache of drugs and money had been discovered. “But the money and drugs are in police custody now, and there will be a constant guard in the house for a few days, while they check for clues in the attic and the grounds. I suppose this is the reason people have been scared away from Mountjoy.”

Santrock had always seemed a mild-mannered man, and the venom in his voice surprised her. “This is an outrage!”

“It’s good of you to be concerned, but it’s all over now.”

“You took a chance notifying the state troopers instead of the local police force, who could have gotten there much sooner, but I guess it turned out well for you.”

“Yes. This should clear up the cloud that’s been hanging over Mountjoy for years,” Janice said, and Santrock agreed.

After the trauma of the past few months, Janice found it difficult to be optimistic. But was her trouble over at last?

T
he next week was the most peaceful time Janice had experienced since she’d come to Stanton. The temperature warmed, the snow melted quickly, and feeling secure because of the police guard in her home, she went to sleep easily and slept through the night. Detectives spent two days checking the attic, and they found a CD player with the discs that had caused people to think Mountjoy was haunted. Hidden miniature speakers were discovered in the kitchen, the downstairs hallway and on the front porch. After the snow melted, they checked the grounds of Mountjoy and canvassed the rest of her woodland property. She didn’t know what evidence they’d found.

The day the police guard was removed, schools reopened, and Janice went back to work. She was the center of attention at work as co-workers and customers quizzed her about what had happened at Mountjoy. Acting on instructions from Sergeant Baxter she said, “It’s police business and confidential. I can’t tell you anything.”

Since the drug dealers hadn’t been apprehended, Sergeant
Baxter warned Janice to be alert for anything unusual. She and Brooke had just finished supper a few evenings later when there was a knock at the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and Janice hesitated before she went to the door and turned on the porch light. When she saw her visitors, she gasped and looked down quickly to be sure that the storm door was still latched.

Two women and a man stood on the porch, two suitcases on the floor beside them. One woman was a stranger. Janice recognized the other two people and realized her troubles hadn’t ended. She remained silent and the stranger stepped forward.

“May we come in?”

“No,” Janice answered, her anger rising, a bitter taste in her mouth.

“But these are your parents,” the woman persisted.

“I know who they are.”

“But I don’t understand,” the woman faltered.

“And I don’t understand who you are and why you’re here.”

“It would be warmer if we talked inside.”

Janice shook her head. “Answer my question.”

“Your parents have been released from prison on the condition that they would live with you. I’m their parole officer.”

“Whose condition? I didn’t agree to be responsible for them.”

“Well, after all, you’re a daughter—”

“A daughter they haven’t contacted for eight years.”

Janice slanted a glance at her parents, who had their heads down. She sensed that Brooke was standing beside her.

“Who is it?” Brooke asked.

Her parents looked up when Brooke spoke, and Brooke leaned against Janice.

“Don’t you remember me, Brooke?” Florence Reid asked in a querulous voice.

“Janice, is it Mom and Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Why are they here?”

“Miss Reid,” the parole officer said, “this is ridiculous. Open the door and let us in—it’s freezing out here. What kind of a daughter are you?”

“The kind of daughter who’s had to fend for herself as long as she can remember. The kind of daughter who had to beg and steal to keep herself and her little sister alive while her parents spent all of their money on drugs and booze. The kind of daughter who was separated from her sister, who was put in a foster home. The kind of daughter who spent four years at an institution for at-risk children. The kind of daughter who’s finally gotten to the place where she has a home of her own, and who is
not
going to let her parents spoil her life. Does that answer your question?”

Leroy Reid spoke for the first time. “Let’s go, Mrs. Anderson.” He turned aside and Janice noticed the hopelessness in his stooped shoulders, but she hardened her heart.

“Oh, let them come in, Janice,” Brooke wailed. “It’s so cold outdoors.”

Brooke’s plea softened her attitude. Janice unlocked the door and stood aside to let the three people in. Still seething with anger and resentment, she motioned them into the living room.

“Sit down and speak your piece.”

Her father looked around the room. “The old place looks just like it did when I was a boy.”

Knowing her father had avoided Mountjoy for years, he must have been desperate to have come here. Unless the lure of John Reid’s money had overcome his fear, Janice thought ironically.

“Miss Reid, I’m Annabelle Anderson, your parents’ parole officer. They’ll report to me regularly, but they need a place to stay, as well as someone to be responsible for them. You’re their closest relative.”

“I can’t deny that,” Janice said, “but let me make my position clear. I don’t owe my parents anything. The only thing they’ve ever done for me was to bring me into the world. I don’t remember how I managed until I was old enough to fend for myself. But I’ve been taking care of Brooke since she was born.”

Turning to her father, she said, “How did you know where to find me?”

He pulled at his collar. “Albert wrote me a letter and told me John had left everything to you.”

“And he wanted you to join him in trying to break the will, is that it?”

Shamefaced, Leroy dropped his eyes and wouldn’t look at her.

“Janice,” her mother scolded, “you ought to be ashamed talking to your father like that.”

“Your parents have both been model prisoners,” Mrs. Anderson said. “They’re rehabilitated, ready to live productive lives.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Janice’s head was aching, and the emotional pain in her heart was excruciating. She found no pleasure in tongue-lashing her parents, but the sight of them had unleashed all of the pent-up emotions and horrors of her childhood.

“What is your decision?” Mrs. Anderson persisted.

Janice felt her face warming. “I’ve told you my decision. They
cannot
live here! Why did you dump this on me without warning?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders and got up. “There was a lack of communication between the prison and the parole
board. Their papers got mislaid and your parents arrived today unexpectedly.”

Brooke had been sitting quietly on the couch, and she begged, “Don’t put them out in the cold, Janice.”

Brooke’s agony reached Janice’s heart and she said, “Very well. They can spend the night here, but Mrs. Anderson, you must come back in the morning to make other arrangements.”

When she opened the door for Mrs. Anderson to leave, Janice brought in the two small suitcases—the only belongings these two people had to show for forty years of living. She set the cases down in the hallway and leaned her head against the door.

God, forgive me
, she prayed silently.
I have neither love nor respect for these two people. I’m afraid to trust them. What can I do?

It took all of the willpower she possessed to go back to the living room. Silence filled the house, broken only by Brooke’s sobbing.

“We didn’t intend to barge in on you like this,” Leroy explained, “but we had to tell them who our next of kin was. We didn’t know they’d bring us here.”

“Well, you’re here for the night, so I’ll have to deal with it. Have you had any supper?”

“No,” Florence said.

“Brooke and I had just finished eating, but I’ll fix something for you. Come into the kitchen. You can stay here if you want to, Brooke.”

They sat silently at the table as Janice opened a can of vegetable soup. While the soup heated, she prepared two chicken salad sandwiches, got two apples from the pantry and put the food on the table. While they ate she washed the dishes she and Brooke had used for supper.

“I didn’t tell Albert I’d help cheat you out of John’s money. I didn’t answer his letter,” her father said.

“Uncle John’s estate has already been transferred to me, so I’m not worried about that. This house was in shambles when I came here, and I’ve spent a lot of money renovating it. I intend to have this house looking like it used to, but I’ve got a long way to go. I’m working part time to make expenses, and I can’t afford to support two more people.”

“We’ll get out tomorrow morning.”

“It’s not as easy as that. The parole officer won’t allow it. If you did get off of drugs while you were in prison, you’ll go back to your old ways if somebody doesn’t hold you accountable.”

“Do you hate us, Janice?” her mother asked in a quiet voice.

Janice pondered the question for several minutes, and the tension in the room was maddening. “I used to hate you, but at VOH I learned a way to live without hate. But I’ve never forgiven you for the way we had to live as children. The thing I hate most is that Brooke and I are making a new life, and now you’ve spoiled that.”

“We didn’t aim to,” her father said.

Wearily, Janice said, “No, I don’t suppose you did, but it’s too late now. I imagine you’re tired. You can sleep in the living room. The couch folds out to a full-sized bed.”

“We can sleep upstairs,” Leroy said.

“Those rooms aren’t ready for sleeping yet. You’ll have to sleep in the living room. The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

While her parents ate, she’d noticed Brooke moping toward their bedroom, still crying.

“As you’ve done it unto the least of these, you’ve done it unto Me,” filtered through Janice’s mind while she took cushions and the quilt off the back of the couch. She’d heard Miss Caroline quote that Scripture countless times, and it seemed
as if her former teacher was telling her now that she had to look after her parents. She took clean sheets, quilts, pillows and pillowcases from a trunk in the hallway and made the bed as comfortable as she could. There was no door between the living room and the hallway, so she couldn’t give them any privacy.

After her parents were settled in bed, Janice went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Brooke was huddled in bed, her eyes swollen from crying, her body trembling. Janice sat on the bed and pulled Brooke tightly into her arms.

“Why did they have to come back?” Brooke whispered. “We’re getting along by ourselves. I can’t even have a sleepover, because my friends might not want anything to do with me now.”

How could she comfort her sister when she had so many reservations of her own?

“It they’re true friends they won’t desert you,” Janice said, sounding more certain than what she was. The children’s opinions would be tempered by what the adults did. “I won’t let them disrupt your life. They can’t live here.”

“But if they don’t, where will they live? What if they’re homeless and have to look for food in garbage cans like Hungry did? We took care of him.”

The implication being, Janice assumed, that if she’d given Hungry a home, she should do the same for her parents.

“So you want them to live with us?”

“No,” Brooke said hesitantly, “but I feel sorry for them.”

Brooke had been too young to remember how they’d been neglected as children and Janice hadn’t told her.

“Well, I don’t feel sorry for them,” Janice said bitterly, “but I do feel responsible for them. I’ll help them—I only hope I can do it without ruining our lives.” She helped Brooke back
down and tucked the covers around her. “You go to sleep and don’t worry about it. I’ll try to work out something.”

She closed the bedroom door behind her, took her fleece-lined coat from the hall cabinet and put on her heavy boots. She opened the front door and went out on the porch. Hungry stuck his head out of his house, his tail thumping on the floor.

Shivering from the cold, Janice tied the hood of the coat around her face, stuck her hands deep into her pockets and walked back and forth across the porch. Her parents were only in their mid-forties, but their hair was streaked with gray and their faces were prematurely wrinkled. She’d remembered her parents as being excessively thin, but both Leroy and Florence had gained weight while they were in prison. They looked better than they had the last time she’d seen them. Sorrowfully, she wished that she had one pleasant memory of her parents.

Her fingers wrapped around the phone in her pocket. Janice longed to call Lance and tell him what had happened. It was only ten o’clock, and if she called him, she knew he’d come to her immediately. She also considered calling Miss Caroline. But when it was all said and done, the decision was hers and no one else could help her.

“God,” she whispered, “I don’t know what to do. I know the Bible says to ‘honor your father and mother,’ but how can I? They’re not honorable people. You know what they’ve done. I have a responsibility to Brooke, as well as to them. Shouldn’t she be my first priority?”

Her parents had destroyed her childhood. Was it right that they ruin the rest of her life? John Reid had given her a chance to better herself, but now the bottom had dropped out of her plans for the future.

She didn’t know how long she paced, but when her legs
got so tired she couldn’t stand any longer, she sank down on the floor, leaned against the wall of the house and rested her arms and head on bended knees. She was no closer to a solution to the dilemma than she’d been an hour ago. She knew she’d have to go in the house soon, because her feet and hands were getting numb.

Overwhelmed with the enormity of the burden that had been placed on her, Janice muttered, “God, what can I do?” Hungry heard and came to nuzzle against her.

Although she thought she hadn’t learned much spiritual knowledge at VOH, as had often happened in the past, a Bible verse slipped into her mind.

“And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”

All of the children who came to VOH had some forgiving to do, and many chapel messages had dealt with forgiveness. Was God telling her through Scripture what she had to do? Janice yearned for God’s full forgiveness for her actions and thoughts in the past. Would she ever have the peace of heart and mind she longed for until she forgave her parents?

The sobs that wracked her body were so unusual and so overwhelming that she felt weak. Janice had learned long ago that crying didn’t solve problems and she hadn’t cried for years. But once the floodgates opened, she couldn’t stop crying. Hungry nudged her again, whining softly, licking away the rivulets of tears that coursed down her face. She put her arm around the dog.