Livvie's Song (28 page)

“That’s too bad. I hope you get to the bottom of it.” A nauseating sensation swirled around his stomach when he recalled the number of times he’d played a part in similar robberies. As much as he’d wanted to fit in with the gang of guys he’d called his friends, his conscience had never failed to tell him that what he was doing in the name of fun was just plain wrong. That hadn’t stopped him back then, though, because crime was like gambling. It got a good, strong hold on you and wouldn’t let go. You pulled off a successful heist, and the triumph of that event spurred you on to the next, and the next, and the next. To most thieves, there was always a better job around the bend, and half the fun was in the planning—who breaks the window? Who enters first to trip the alarm? Who grabs the goods? It was a game of sick thrills. By the grace of God, he would never return to a lifestyle of such destructive activities.

“Oh, we’ll get to the bottom of it, all right,” the sheriff was saying, his beady eyes drilling into Will’s, as if probing them for a sign of guilt. “And, when we do, we’ll make the crook—or crooks—pay back every last penny. If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s a thief.”

He shouldn’t have let the sheriff’s words get to him. But it was the way he’d said them, and his manner of staring at Will, that bothered him. It was as if he knew his secret, even though Will was sure no one could have told the sheriff about his past. Livvie knew better than to breathe a word about it to anybody. As for Clem Dodd, the guy stayed as far as he could from men in uniform. Good grief, Will remembered him saying that even army soldiers gave him the creeps.

“I’m prone to agree with you, Sheriff. Folks who steal are jus’ plain cruel,” Gus said, emerging from the refrigerator to set a carton of eggs on the counter.

“You got that right,” the sheriff said, his steely eyes still trained on Will.

Keeping his arms crossed and his feet planted on the floor, Will stared right back, as if to bore holes through the sheriff’s skull.

The sheriff broke eye contact when he picked up his cup for another swig of stale coffee. Swallowing loudly, he set it down again, huffed a loud breath, and splayed his hands on the counter to push himself up from the stool. “Well, I’ll be on my way, then. Just wanted to check with Livvie on that money issue, but I guess you’ve answered my questions as best you could. I’m makin’ the rounds at the businesses up and down this street to see if anybody else has come up short on cash.” He sent Will one last look and tipped his cap at him. “I thank you for your time, Mr. Taylor.”

“Not at all, Sheriff.”

“Bye, Sheriff Morris,” Gus called from inside the refrigerator.

Little more than a grunt was the sheriff’s response.

Ignorant slob
, Will thought, watching the guy’s back till he pushed open the screen door and ambled outside into the sweltering heat.

***

“When’s Aunt Margie pickin’ us up?” Alex asked for at least the tenth time that afternoon.

Livvie looked at her watch. “It’s only ten after two. She said she’d be here at closing time, so she’ll be along soon.”

“Why can’t Will come, too?” Nate asked. Somewhere along the line, the boys had taken to calling him by his first name, at his urging.

“You already asked that, dummy. Mom said he’s goin’ fishin’.”

The truth was, Margie hadn’t invited Will, nor would it have occurred to her to do so. She knew very little about him, other than that he worked for Livvie and seemed a friendly sort whenever she happened inside the diner, which wasn’t often. Livvie had yet to tell her how they’d shared a kiss, how she’d tagged along on one of his fishing excursions, how their friendship was growing, and how he’d served time in prison, the detail that would upset her the most. Gracious, if Margie ever got wind of his being an ex-convict, she would insist that Livvie terminate his employment at once, and then she’d probably encourage the man by way of a formal letter to leave Wabash altogether, lest he tarnish the town’s fine reputation and corrupt its impressionable youth.

Livvie loved her sister to pieces, even owed her her very life, but Margie had a strict set of beliefs when it came to such things as church attendance, dress, hairstyle, and observance of the Sabbath, which she always spent quietly reading the Scriptures and praying. Why, when Livvie had been a young teen, her sister had refused to wash the Sunday dinner dishes until Monday morning. Thankfully, she’d eased up on many of her rituals, and her kitchen now shone spotlessly on every day of the week.

“I’d rather go fishin’ with Will,” Nate groused.

“Me, too,” Alex put in.

“Don’t be silly. You love going to Aunt Margie and Uncle Howie’s house. Besides, Aunt Margie has a brand-spanking-new car, and she wants to take you for a ride. Won’t that be fun?”

As the three of them sat on the bench in front of the restaurant beneath the shade of the awning, awaiting Margie’s arrival, the boys swung their feet back and forth, Alex’s touching the ground, Nate’s merely skimming it. My, but they were growing up fast.

“Yeah, but Will’s teachin’ us all sorts of different stuff. Uncle Howie only teaches us farm stuff, but Will knows other important stuff,” Nate said.

“What ‘stuff’ are we referring to?” she asked, looking up the street for any sign of a sparkling red Chevrolet Superior four-door sedan with the staunch, independent Margie behind the wheel. She might be a fuddy-duddy when it came to keeping her outward appearance plain and modest—why, she didn’t even wear her wedding ring!—but, when it came to her automobiles, Margaret Grant demanded only the finest. And Howard knew better than to deny her.

“Like catchin’ frogs ’n’ turtles,” Alex was saying.

“And throwin’ rocks ’n’ chasin’ crabs,” Nate added.

“Chasing crabs?” She was mildly intrigued.

“Yeah! You pick up a rock and find one under it, and then you try to catch it, but it gets away, and Will says that’s best, ’cause those things’ll pinch you,” Nate explained, scrunching up his sunburned, freckled nose. His expressive eyes helped to tell the story.

“And he’s learnin’ us the harmonica, too, don’t forget,” said Alex.

“He’s
teaching
you,” Livvie corrected him.

“And he’s also learnin’ us the right way to hook on worms,” Nate added.

She figured she may as well leave the grammar lessons to their teachers. “So, you like Will, do you?”

“Yeah, he’s the best!” Nate said.

“Will’s great!” Alex echoed.

“Did someone just use my name in vain?” Will appeared around the corner of the building, fishing gear in hand. As usual, her heart took a tumble at the sight of him.

“Will!” Alex and Nate shouted together.

“We wanna go fishin’ with you instead of goin’ to Aunt Margie’s farm,” Alex explained.

Will’s thick eyebrows lifted, and his mouth turned down at the corners. “What? And disappoint your aunt and uncle with your absence? I’m sure that would make them very sad. Next time, okay, buddies?” They dropped their jaws to pout for a moment. “Hey, I’m putting something extra good on the menu tonight. Want to know what it is?”

“Yes!” came their suddenly cheery reply.

At that, he crouched down beside them, and Livvie couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his thighs through his Levis, stretched taut over his muscular legs. Mercy, he would be the death of her yet!

He leaned closer to the boys, and Livvie found herself lowering her head to their level. She heard him clear his throat and whisper, “Chocolate cake with the best chocolate frosting you ever tasted.”

“Haw!” The boys’ mouths and eyes had gone as round as tart pans.

Lately, Will had fascinated Livvie even more with the way he handled her sons. One minute, they could be whining louder than a Model T’s brakes, and, the next minute, they would be laughing uncontrollably at something Will had said. He had a talent for turning their focus off of themselves and onto something else. Come to think of it, he’d even used his inimitable technique on her a time or two.

A horn blew from somewhere up the road, turning all four heads to the west end of Market Street. Several pedestrians stopped to gawk as the shiny red vehicle pulled up to the curb. “Is that Aunt Margie’s new car?” Nate asked.

“It sure is,” Livvie said. For a moment, she remained seated on the bench, transfixed by the fresh look of the big, glossy red box on wheels, with four doors that would keep out the cold in winter and windows that opened to let in the breeze on a hot summer’s day.

Will gave a low whistle. “Very nice.”

“My sister’s husband spares no expense when it comes to her desires,” Livvie said as she finally stood up. By now, the boys had deserted the bench and run to see their aunt, still seated behind the wheel.

Livvie looked from Margie to Will, who turned and gave her an assessing gaze. “I wasn’t talking about the car. I see you’re wearing that fine new dress your secret admirer sent to you. You should know, I’m feeling a little jealous.”

“What?” She jerked back her head and felt a fluttery sensation sail up her spine. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, it doesn’t even fit me that well. See? It’s a little loose in places and too tight in others.” As soon as she pointed that out, she felt a blush warm her cheeks.

“Humph.” He fastened his gaze on hers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Margie sounded her horn once more, which drew the attention of several more pedestrians. Will strolled up to the partially open front passenger window, leaned down, and tipped his fisherman’s hat at Margie. “Mighty fine car you have here, ma’am.”

Margie rolled down the window so that it was open all the way. “Why, thank you, Mr. Taylor! Howard insisted we needed a new car. Men! They always have to have the latest toys.”

“Isn’t that the way of it?” he replied with a chuckle. But Livvie knew better. This man owned little more than his harmonica, his Bible, and a few outfits from the Salvation Army store.

And Margie wasn’t fooling anybody by blaming her husband. Howard liked his farm equipment, but cars? He’d be happy to drive his dilapidated truck to the ground.

“Well,” Livvie said, stepping up beside Will and pointing to his fishing pole. “Catch some big ones.”

“If I do, you want to help me eat them later tonight?”

“What? Me? I mean—”

He touched her cheek. “Got a smudge mark.”

“Oh.” She licked her finger, then rubbed the spot. “Is it gone?”

He nodded and grinned, a simple gesture that seemed to release a flock of butterflies in her stomach. “All gone. It wouldn’t be a date. In fact, bring the boys.”

“Well, that’s…good. I mean, its not being a date and all. But what about the dance?”

“I thought I’d stay home tonight, maybe serenade myself—and you, if you’d like.”

The very notion of Will serenading her—and the boys, of course—made her giddy. It would be the first time she’d been serenaded, unless she counted overhearing Frank trying to sing in the bathtub.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Olivia Beth, are you coming?” Margie asked. The boys had jumped into the backseat and were bouncing around, checking out everything there was to see on the car’s interior.

“How long do you think it’ll take you to think about it?” Will asked in that gravelly voice.

“I…um, well, I guess it shouldn’t take any time to think about, so, yes, we’ll come.”

He let out a long, slow breath. Relief?

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” she added.

Will nodded and stepped forward to open the door for her. Smiling, she slid onto the upholstered seat, which was hot against her skin. Without even looking, she knew Margie’s eyes were drilling into her side.

Once Will shut her door with a wave, her sister put the car in gear, and they jounced up Market Street. They’d gone no farther than a block when Margie started with her questions. “Does that man have eyes for you, Olivia Beth Beckman? And where on earth did you get that dress? Gracious, it has no sleeves!”

“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”—1 Peter 5:8

Finally, she’d worn the dress! And he’d be darned if she didn’t look fine. Clem swelled with pride to see it on her, knowing that he’d bought it—well, actually, he’d lifted it from its hanger and stuffed it under his shirt. He’d begun to think she’d thrown it away or given it to someone else. Or, worse, that she hated it.

In the horse and buggy he’d rented from the livery, he waited around the corner from the restaurant until he saw Will head off toward the river. Then, he maneuvered the rig onto Market Street and began to follow the red car at a distance. Trouble was, automobiles traveled at a much higher speed than this stupid four-legged animal, so he’d have to make the fellow clip along at a faster pace than usual. He used the whip a couple of times to get him moving, then hung back quite a way so as not to be spotted. Once they were outside of town, he followed the car a mile or so down a dusty road, then watched it turn into a long driveway leading to a farm, from the looks of it. There was a white, two-story house with a wraparound porch, a big barn, and a bunch of outbuildings. In the surrounding fields, herds of cattle and a few horses grazed on grass.

A good quarter mile back from the driveway, beside a cluster of tall oaks, he pulled on the reins. “Whoa!” he commanded the nag. Then, he hauled out his binoculars, leaned back in the springy seat, and made himself comfortable.

My, she looked grand in that blue dress. Those bratty little boys did nothing for him, but she could make a man mighty happy, and, well, he could show her a good time, too. He intended to do that, and soon. “Very soon,” he said aloud.

The horse snorted, as if in agreement.

Through the binoculars, he watched the two boys disappear inside the house, while Olivia and her sister lagged behind, their lips moving in conversation. She was prettier than any picture he’d ever seen. He swallowed down a lump of desire and began scanning the wide expanse of land, focusing on the areas that looked unused and uninhabited. How much property did these people own, anyway? Hundreds of acres, if what he’d heard from Orville Dotson was correct. Far in the distance, he spotted what looked like a ramshackle building. Was it deserted? He’d have to investigate. Maybe it’d make a cozy little den for him to hide out in, a private place to take his woman. He was getting sick of wasting his cash on hotel rooms. Wouldn’t it beat all if he found a place to call his own, right on Livvie’s sister’s property? Ha! Who would ever think to look there?