Somewhere Between Luck and Trust (39 page)

Chapter Forty-Six

BY THE TIME
Sully arrived with the pizza and beer, Cristy had set the table on the porch, adding an arrangement of daisies from the plants his mother had given her. He looked tired, but she could tell this was going to be a celebration.

“We’d better warm up the pizza,” she said, taking it from his hands. “You sit and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“The beer’s still cold enough. Mind if I start on one?”

“I bet you’ve earned it.”

Standing by the stove she realized how glad she was to see Sully tonight. She really didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t regret anything she’d said to Berdine or Michael, but none of it had been easy.

It would never feel easy, just right.

She wondered how the Bates family would prepare Michael to accept the fact that often in life, right and easy were different, or that sometimes there
was
no easy thing. When he was older how would they explain that life could be messy and sad, and the best anyone could do was share the mess and the sadness with somebody who cared?

Sully cared. He was the right person to be with tonight. But she would tell him about Michael and her decision later, after pizza, beer and frank talk about Jackson.

When the pizza was hot enough she slid it onto a platter and took it to the porch. Sully was leaning against a pillar staring into the distance. He turned when he heard her.

“Jackson’s in jail.”

She had thought that might be the news he had promised. She was grateful that now she could sleep soundly, that Beau could roam the property again, and that Wayne wouldn’t have to stand guard over Michael any more than any father had to.

For a moment she thought about the Jackson she had loved, the man she had so wholeheartedly given herself to. She felt a deep, stabbing sadness for
that
Jackson.

But that Jackson had never existed.

She picked up the spatula and slid pizza onto their plates. “Good. Is there any chance his father will find a lawyer who can get him out again?”

“The Dream Team couldn’t get Jackson out of this. And I’m still hoping he’ll be charged with Nan’s murder, too, since she was the one who provided him with an alibi for the weekend Duke was murdered. We’re guessing she changed her mind about lying for him, which is why she called me before she died. He may have found out about our call and arranged the accident. We’re looking for evidence.”

Cristy could have ended up like Nan. She wondered why Jackson had spared her the same fate. Had he felt something for her that had prevented taking her life? Or, perhaps, felt something for the baby,
his
baby, that she had carried? Maybe he had simply realized that two dead ex-girlfriends would look suspicious. She would never know.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold again.” She took her place at the table.

“Do you want to hear the case we’ve pieced together with Kenny’s help?”

She supposed she had to say yes, because otherwise she would always wonder. She nodded her consent.

“It took a while for Kenny to talk. He didn’t want to believe Jackson had framed him, but he finally realized it had to be true.”

“He was the loyal friend.”

“Turns out I was right about most of it. Duke, Kenny and Jackson were working with gang members in Atlanta and maybe more cities, although Kenny says he was in the dark about that part. They worked pretty much the way I told you that they might.”

The scheme Sully had outlined a couple of weeks ago was complex. Kenny couldn’t have been the mastermind, and probably not Duke, either, who was more known for his temper than his intelligence.

“It must have been Jackson’s idea,” she said.

“It’s pretty clear he was in charge. They were working out of barns on properties his father had bought as investments, moving around so as not to arouse suspicion. Kenny figured nobody was getting hurt. The owners of the cars were all insured, so what was the big deal?”

She had already guessed that Kenny would feel that way.

“Here’s the part we weren’t sure of, until Kenny set us straight. The three of them worked together for months. Duke and Kenny always knew Jackson was taking a larger share, and that was okay. He absorbed the most risk. But then Duke found out Jackson was earning a lot more on each transaction than he’d admitted to.”

“How do you know that?”

“From Kenny. He said that when Duke found out, he was furious, and Kenny was caught in the middle. For his part he was making enough money to be perfectly happy. He really didn’t care how much Jackson made.”

“He’s a simple guy.”

“Simple in more ways than one,” Sully said.

This she couldn’t dispute.

Sully washed down a bite of pizza with beer before he continued. “Duke was more ambitious, and he knew he and Kenny were taking big risks, too. The rest is a little fuzzy since Duke isn’t around to explain everything, but here’s what we think. Duke and Jackson fought over the money, and Jackson threatened to send him packing. At that point Duke probably threatened Jackson with the sheriff or the FBI. Duke probably figured the law would let him off, since he would be the one to turn in Jackson.”

“I guess Jackson isn’t admitting to any of this.”

“Not yet.”

“Small wonder.” Cristy toyed with her pizza, then took a bite when she realized Sully was waiting for her to eat.

Satisfied, he went on. “Kenny says that at that point, Jackson came to his house and told him Duke was threatening to turn them
both
in, and Kenny, who admits to having a few too many beers that afternoon, got furious. He remembers telling Jackson he was going to beat the hell out of Duke as soon as he could find him.”

“Jackson set him up,” Cristy said. “I just bet Duke never said he was going to report
Kenny,
because why would he? Jackson must have known Kenny wouldn’t think that through, but Kenny believed everything Jackson ever told him.”

“Duke probably never had any intention of reporting anybody. He probably lost his temper and made the threat so Jackson would pay Kenny and him more money.”

One bite had become two, then three, and now her slice was gone. She reached for another. “So what happened next?”

“It’s speculation, but here’s what we’re going on. We think after some time passed, Duke cooled down, and at that point he probably decided to make nice with Jackson. But first he wanted to talk to Kenny and enlist his help getting a bigger cut. He called Kenny’s house—we have the phone records—but Kenny says he never got the call. Jackson probably answered instead. Kenny remembers being outside most of the afternoon, working on a car from Pinckney’s. He spent a long time working on it, drinking steadily as he did, while Jackson stayed inside.”

Cristy could see that. “That sounds like Jackson.”

“Of course Jackson didn’t want Duke talking to Kenny. Duke may even have told Jackson he wanted to find a compromise, but that’s a guess. What we know for sure—because of the directions on the newspaper—is that he invited Jackson to meet him that afternoon. Jackson probably said he would think about it and hung up.”

“Why do you think that?”

He held up his hand so she would let him finish. “We’ve known that a call was made
from
Kenny’s phone
to
Duke’s cell phone around the time of the murder. That was part of the evidence we had against Kenny. Now we think Jackson waited a minute or two, then called Duke back to get directions and jotted them down on the only thing that was handy, a newspaper he’d brought with him.”

“You think even then he was setting up
Kenny?
That he wanted the sheriff’s department to find a call to Duke from Kenny’s home phone that day?”

“You tell me. Is that something Jackson would do?”

She didn’t hesitate. “In a heartbeat.”

“We think Jackson realized that even though Duke wanted to talk, the next time he got angry, he would make more threats. So Jackson decided Duke had to go. Since Kenny and Duke were friends, he probably figured Kenny might start putting facts together, so he plotted to get rid of them both. One murdered, the other the murderer. And as a bonus, nobody to split whatever profits remained.”

“You’re beginning to think like him.”

He smiled a little. “That’s what it takes to be a good cop. When Kenny came back inside, Jackson told him Duke had called, and where he was, which was a place Kenny was familiar with since he and Duke had hunted there together. Kenny stormed off in his pickup to find Duke and have it out with him. But unarmed, as he’s sworn all along.”

Cristy thought about what must have happened next. “Jackson didn’t go with him?”

“No, he followed, but he probably didn’t leave right away. He wanted to give Kenny a head start. He wanted him to go after Duke, and swing a few fists.”

“So Jackson’s at Kenny’s house alone. The perfect opportunity to find and take one of Kenny’s guns...”

“Easy enough to do, and not just any gun, but the one Kenny used most of the time for target practice, which meant there would be lots of casings to match the bullet Jackson would use to kill Duke. That way even if Jackson wasn’t able to plant the gun back at Kenny’s, the murder weapon would still be traced to him.”

She put it together. “So Kenny finds Duke. He always admitted to having a fight with Duke in the woods that day.”

“They fight,” Sully said, “and Kenny knocks Duke to the ground, maybe even knocks him unconscious, he’s not sure now. Then he drives off, assuming Duke will get up in a few minutes and find his own way home. But Jackson, who’s right behind him, waits until Kenny’s gone, then shoots Duke with Kenny’s gun. He probably expects to beat Kenny home, since Kenny’s not driving real well about then, but when he gets back, Kenny’s already there, or somebody else is. We don’t know.”

“So that’s when Jackson decides to leave the gun with me.”

“It seems likely.”

It all made sense, a perfect, perverted sense. “And you have the evidence you need about the stolen cars?”

“More than we need. Kenny provided the remaining puzzle pieces, and we’ve found concrete evidence in a couple of the barns and at Pinckney Motors where the new keys were made. Better yet, last night they arrested a guy who was in on the whole scheme in Atlanta. He ID’ed Jackson as the one who always took possession of the stolen cars.”

“And the murder?”

“Jackson will go down for it. I’m betting he’ll probably cop a plea before this goes to trial.”

She thought about everything Jackson had put her through, just because she had inadvertently gotten between him and the murder weapon.

“Do you think the clerk at the jewelry store was in on framing me? Do you think Jackson paid him off or blackmailed him to look the other way when he swept the ring into my shopping bag?”

“I’m working on that.”

“Sully...” She got up and went to him. He stood, slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her.

She thought the kiss was perfect. He felt so good against her, strong, sure, right. Despite his job he had stood up for her, believed her, when everyone had told him he was wrong. He had protected her when he had no firm proof she deserved it. He had listened when nobody else would.

“My hero,” she said at last, pulling away to look up at him.

His cheeks were flushed, and he smiled a little. “Someday I might like to be more than that.”

She touched his cheek. “I have a long way to go before I can hold my own in a relationship. I’ve made so many mistakes, and I don’t even understand them all yet. I’m just not ready.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be. I’ll just hang around and when you are, you let me know.”

She wondered what she had done to deserve that kind of loyalty, and yes, love. She wondered how long Sully would wait, and she wondered how long he would need to.

She thought about Michael. Perhaps she was further along the road to self-discovery than she’d thought.

Maybe Sully wouldn’t have to wait forever.

Chapter Forty-Seven

“IT’S BEEN ALMOST
exactly four months since I brought Cristy here.”

Georgia, who was watching Edna and Maddie chase each other up to the porch of the Goddess House, felt her daughter come to stand beside her. As part of the game, Cristy’s dog was racing around the girls in narrowing circles. Georgia hoped one or the other didn’t trip over the dog, although she supposed shaggy, massive Beau would cushion any fall.

Today was the Fourth of July, and both Maddie and Edna had been looking forward to coming here for weeks. All the goddesses were going to spend the night, as well as Ethan, Taylor’s father, and Lucas, along with Marilla Reynolds and her family. The children were going to set up tents, and there were hints about fireworks, as well as a feast from the goddesses’ own garden, which was finally coming into its own.

Georgia wondered how much longer the girls would forget they were tweens and frolic like younger children when they were here. Edna was already showing signs of inheriting her mother’s lovely figure. She had always been levelheaded and even-tempered, and she still was, but she was less forthcoming about her feelings, as if discussing them had become confusing. Maddie, at eleven, was spending the summer catching up with herself, trying things her frequent seizures had prevented in the past, and finding more friends as her confidence grew.

“The girls love it here,” Georgia said. “It’s a healing place. I think it was a good place for Cristy to come.”

“It sure worked out for the best.”

Georgia wondered if Cristy thought so. The girl had been through so much in these months, her view of them might be different.

She changed the subject as they walked toward the porch, but only a little. “Analiese tells me she’s come up with a Goddesses Anonymous motto. And when I think about it, it fits everything we did to help Cristy.”

Samantha heaved a stick as far as she could so Beau would let everybody climb the steps. “What is it?”

“Abandon perfection. Welcome reflection. Nurture connection.”

“Catchy.”

Georgia had given the motto some thought. “She’s right. Maybe that’s what we did. We didn’t agonize over whether inviting Cristy to live here was the right thing to do. We thought it through, then took a leap of faith. After that we gave her time to reflect on her life and what she ought to do next, without pushing her.”

“And you, in particular, found an important way to connect to her and help her at the same time,” Samantha said.

“Well, there’s more to it than that.” Georgia realized that Beau had wheeled and was charging in her direction. She raised her hands to stop him from knocking her over. Just in time.

There was no opportunity after that to have a real conversation. Cristy came out to greet them; more cars arrived; the noise level increased; people unpacked and settled in; tents were erected to waves of laughter; lunch was served and plans were finalized for an evening barbecue.

Only well into the afternoon, when the others decided to go for a swim in a waterfall-fed pool on the Johnstons’ property, did Georgia have time for another conversation, this time with Cristy, who had stayed behind.

Georgia was waiting for Lucas, and Cristy had enthusiastically agreed to an impromptu tutoring session. The gang was still gone, and Lucas hadn’t yet arrived by the time they finished. Cristy’s progress was nothing short of amazing. She was now comfortable reading simple children’s books, and was devouring them. The two women got glasses of iced tea and went back outside to the glider to wait for the others.

“Sam and I were talking about you earlier,” Georgia said. “I think this has been a good place for you. Would you say so?”

“I think about that a lot.” Cristy settled herself against cushions. “It’s been a hard time, but I figured out a lot of things here. I’m not sure I would have done that anywhere else. All of you have given me so much.”

Georgia put her arm around Cristy and pulled her close. “That’s what Sam and I were talking about, only I didn’t get to finish. I’m so glad I’ve had a chance to get to know you and watch your life settle into place a little. I know how hard some of it’s been. Letting your cousin’s family adopt Michael. Putting your future on the line in more ways than one. Deciding you had to take another chance on learning to read. But you’ve been an inspiration to me. I hope you know that. You never took more than you gave. I hope you know that, too.”

“I don’t know how you can say that.”

“It was easy to say. And to believe.”

Cristy rested her head on Georgia’s shoulder, and Georgia thought how close they had become. Cristy was almost like a daughter now.

“Clara wants me to go to Oklahoma and live with her,” Cristy said. “She thinks she can find me a job and a reading tutor.”

“Do you want to go?”

“Oklahoma is her life, not mine.”

“Then stay here.”

Cristy moved away. “I don’t need to be near Michael anymore. Even though Berdine says I can visit as often as I want, I need to let real time pass before I see him again. Then I can visit from almost anywhere. I won’t need to live near Mars Hill.”

Georgia knew how hard it had been for Cristy to decide about the baby, and she was happy the young woman had summoned the courage to give Michael the best possible start. “What’s the difference between want and need?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I can spell them both. Want me to try?”

Georgia laughed. “Do you
want
to stay here?”

Cristy didn’t answer directly. “I like my job. I’m getting more responsibility every day, and I just got a raise.”

“Do you like living up here? Is it too lonely?”

“I’ve met a few more neighbors. And there’s always a goddess or two coming to visit or stay.” Cristy hesitated, then smiled a little. “Dawson showed up yesterday to make sure I’m staking the tomatoes. He’ll probably do that from time to time. I think he misses working in his family’s garden, although he’d never admit it.”

“I think the Goddess House could use a caretaker or a hostess, call it what you will. But somebody who keeps the place going, tends the garden, changes the sheets and washes the towels if we can’t get to them before we go. Somebody to just keep an eye on things. Does that appeal to you?”

“Do the others know?”

“I haven’t talked to everybody, but Analiese and I think it’s a good idea, and I know the others will, too. We’re doing so well together on the reading front, I’d like to continue working with you. It’s a pleasure to watch you learn.”

“Is it a bad thing to want to stay here?”

Georgia heard the real question, and she answered it carefully. “You’ve spent the past year, maybe two, existing on adrenaline. Is it a bad thing not to be wallowing in stress every minute? To just stay put, save some money and take care of yourself? I think those are all good things for now. Maybe you just need to catch up with Cristy a little, and figure out the next step slowly.”

“If everybody says yes, I would like that. A lot.”

“I think you can consider it a done deal. Not one person’s asked me when you’re leaving. We like having you here.” She made a face. “And that crazy dog of yours, too.”

“I guess Beau is mine now. Sully hasn’t said a word about taking him back.”

“Maybe he wants an excuse to visit you now and then, bring a sack of dog food, throw a few sticks.”

“Sully doesn’t need any excuses.”

Georgia knew better than to say anything about that. She saw Lucas’s car pull in, and she got to her feet. “Lucas has something he needs to talk to you about. Be sure you find time to go for a walk with him.”

Cristy got up, too. “You’re going to give me a hint?”

“He wants to have your felony conviction set aside. He’d like you to talk to an attorney friend of his. It won’t be simple. First you’ll have to get the governor to grant a pardon, and then if that happens, you can petition the court to have your record expunged. But it’s something for you to think about. You have a good case to prove you were railroaded, or will be able to once Jackson’s case is settled.”

“Sully thinks the clerk at the jewelry store was either bribed or blackmailed.”

“If Sully can get him to admit it, that would speed things along.”

“Sully is a very determined man.”

Georgia watched as Lucas started toward them. “So is Lucas. He’s trying to get me to take Samantha and Edna back to Jeffords to meet my aunt and maybe my half brothers.”

Cristy raised her hand to wave. “Are you going to?”

“I think so.”

“Sometimes people just appear when you need them, don’t they? Not always. I know that. But when they do, you have to let them in. I guess I learned that from you.”

Georgia thought about that as she went to meet Lucas. He swept her into a kiss, quick and sweet.

“I’m glad you appeared,” she told him when it had ended, even though he hadn’t been part of the conversation with Cristy. “Just so you know.”

He didn’t ask what she meant. He just kissed her again, before they went up to the house together.

* * *

The house had finally grown quiet, and outside, the young residents of the tents had temporarily quieted, too. Cristy still expected everyone but Edna to troop inside as the night wore on. Earlier she had cleared the living room, and now she was counting the minutes until she had to go downstairs and help Maddie’s and Marilla’s boys settle into their sleeping bags on the floor.

When the first owl hooted. When raccoons began skittering around the campsite. When Beau howled at the moon.

Soon.

She sat at the desk in the corner—a table, really—just a plain wooden surface with paper in a triple-decker metal tray and pens in a jelly jar.

She focused the small desk lamp on the sheet of paper in front of her and picked up a pen. She still had so far to go before she could read or write as well as a third grader. But she was on her way. And the woman she planned to write tonight wouldn’t care if she turned a letter backward or spelled a word the way it sounded to her, even if the spelling was all wrong.

Besides, tomorrow she could go over the letter with Georgia, who wouldn’t make fun of her. Georgia would praise her for trying. Together they could fix whatever was wrong, and Cristy could copy the corrected version over and over until it was right. Then she would mail it.

She sat for a long time, knowing this moment was a milestone and frightened because so many times she had tried and failed. Then, because she knew she was only a failure if she didn’t try again, she began.

“Dear...Dara...Lee,” she said out loud as she carefully wrote the words. “I...will...write...you...a lot...now.”

She sniffed, and she was surprised to see a tear smudge the ink.

The smudge didn’t matter. Tomorrow Georgia would help her make the letter better. But tonight she knew that this letter, tearstained or not, was perfect exactly the way it was.

* * * * *