"He's always reminded me a bit of Francis of Assisi," Savannah added, her voice laced with sadness. "I remember having a meeting of church leaders at their house last summer. We could barely hear one another over the bird-song."
"And now he's in a cage," Quinton said mournfully.
Cooper glanced around the circle of somber faces and felt at a complete loss. She was a stranger in the midst of a group of people suddenly stricken with pain and couldn't think of anything to say.
"We should go see him," Jake suddenly suggested. "He's gotta be sittin' in that jail right now, feelin' like he hasn't got a friend in this world."
Trish clucked in approval. "Yes! I think we should take action! Obviously, the evidence found at the scene is determining the action of the authorities. Wesley's were the only prints found on an untraceable gun and he was the only one in the house with Brooke when she was killed, but
they
don't know the soul of this man.
They
don't realize that he is simply incapable of such an act of violence."
Nathan rose from his chair. "Instead of attending service, why don't we bring Fellowship Hour to Wesley?"
Quinton gestured to the cake holder on his desk. "I've got this triple chocolate praline layer cake just waiting to be sliced. We can fill up a thermos of coffee for him too."
"What a wonderful idea." Savannah smiled. "If someone wouldn't mind dropping me off at home afterward, I'd love to join you all."
Jake practically leapt from his chair. "I'll take you! That is, if you don't mind riding in my work van."
Savannah reached out and grasped Jake's hand. "It will make a fine chariot, I'm sure."
Jake's entire being became illuminated under Savannah's touch.
As the group organized themselves for the trip to the jail, Cooper softly made her excuses and headed for the door. Before she was able to cross the threshold, Nathan stopped her by holding out his business card.
"Here's my card," he said. "Call me if you have any questions about the workbook assignments or anything else. We really hope you come back next week. We'll all be starting on the first assignment then since ... since we didn't get to it today, so you won't need to play catch-up or anything." He shifted on his big feet, clearly searching for the appropriate words. "Sorry about everything. It must have felt ... strange for you."
Again, Cooper thought about her encounter with Brooke. She should say something about the experience to Nathan. The other members of the group were out of earshot and she could quickly and quietly confide in him and then let him handle the information. She knew telling someone was the right thing to do, but she couldn't seem to get her tongue or lips to move. All she wanted to do was go home. She wanted time to absorb the stunning news inside her green house, where she could run her fingers through some soil while listening to the resonating strains of Bob Dylan. She wanted home, where her parents were close at hand--her mother humming hymns and cooking while her father drank coffee and did the puzzles in the Sunday paper.
"Thanks," she said, accepting Nathan's card. "I hope the group can bring Mr. Hughes some comfort." She smiled briefly, pivoted awkwardly on her wedge-shaped heels, and hastened down the hall.
As she shoved the doors to the outside open, the sound of the congregation lifting their voices in the opening song of worship seemed to explode straight through the walls of the building. Cooper froze and leaned against the aged bricks. It was not a song she knew, for she was only familiar with traditional hymns, but the melody washed through her. The voices singing
holy, holy, holy
in beautiful unison restored some steadiness to her step. After absorbing some courage from the repetitive lyrics, she walked slowly away from the jubilant music and toward her truck.
Sunday suppers around the Lee table were normally boisterous affairs. Ashley and her husband Lincoln often joined the family for the large midday meal and Maggie always outdid herself preparing a feast reminiscent in its bounty of a Thanksgiving celebration.
That Sunday, however, Ashley called to say that she and Lincoln had been invited to his father's golf club for lunch following their church service and she wouldn't be coming over. Maggie was disappointed by the news, but both Earl and Grammy seemed secretly pleased. Now there would be more helpings of Maggie's honey-glazed ham for the taking, with plenty of leftovers for biscuits the following morning. In addition, no one would have to worry about whether the Lee's table manners would be offensive to Ashley's blue-blooded husband.
After Cooper passed the dishes containing scalloped potatoes smothered in cheese, lima beans, and onion rolls down the table to her father, she stared at the food on her own plate as though she didn't know what to do with it.
"You're awful quiet, Cooper," Maggie commented as she slathered butter on an onion roll. "I saw the flyer you left us on Hope Street. Did you enjoy the service?"
Grammy pointed her ham-laden fork across the table at her granddaughter. "What went on at that newfangled church of yours? Their rock and roll music addle your brain? I heard folks dance in the aisles at those modern churches."
Cooper pushed her pile of limas back and forth on her plate. "I accidentally found myself in a Bible study meeting. This group is starting a discussion on Ephesians."
"Bet you felt like a schoolgirl who hasn't done her homework," Grammy cackled and pushed such a large spoonful of potatoes into her mouth that Cooper felt sure bits of the starchy vegetable would come out of Grammy's ears.
"You liked them Bible stories when you were little," Earl said in his soft voice. "I remember reading the story of the Flood to you over and over. You always loved the part when the dove came back to the ark with the olive branch."
Cooper cut into a piece of ham with the side of the fork and then tapped on its pink surface with the tines. "I still love those stories, Daddy. But that's all I know. The big stories. The ones everyone knows. The Garden of Eden, the Flood, the tower of Babel, Moses parting the sea, and Jesus's birth and death. Other than that, I don't know anything. But they asked me to come back. I'm going to buy a workbook and a study Bible and stuff, because I like the people in this group. It felt good to be with them."
Maggie pushed the plate of rolls toward Grammy, who grabbed one greedily and covered the golden top with a thick layer of butter. "Seems like you've got a chance to learn a whole mess of new things. You've always loved reading and learning, Cooper. This sounds like just the thing for you," Maggie said.
"Yeah, but it's not just the Bible study that's preying on my mind," Cooper began. "Something else happened at church." She told her family about Brooke's murder and Wesley's arrest. She then explained about her visit to Capital City two Fridays ago and about meeting Brooke Hughes.
"See? Even though I met Mrs. Hughes, I don't know anything important about her. Nothing worth talking to anyone about," she added once she had finished. "This is all police business now, I figure. Nothing I can do will change the situation."
"Then you shouldn't feel troubled," Grammy answered decisively and pushed her dinner plate forward an inch, signaling that she was ready for someone to clear it away. Settling back in her chair, she noisily shifted her teeth around inside her mouth and sighed with contentment as Cooper wrestled with her conscience.
Casting a sideways glance at her granddaughter, Grammy seemed satisfied with the result of her statement. Settling her teeth back on her gums she asked, "What's for dessert, Maggie?"
After a lemon yogurt pound cake drizzled with a sugary lemon glaze, Grammy commanded Cooper to help her feed the animals. Cooper first assisted in cleaning up after their large meal and then left her parents to dry dishes side by side exactly as they had done for the past thirty-eight years. She grabbed a pair of heavy leather gloves Earl kept hanging next to the fireplace and made her way to her grandmother's room.
Grammy needed no help in feeding the stray tomcat she had taken in two summers ago. Her twenty-two-pound bedfellow was given the name Little Boy when he had first appeared, soaking wet with a blood-encrusted stump of a tail, at the Lees' back door. Grammy miraculously heard the kitten's mewling over the pounding rain. She fetched the ragged animal inside, tenderly dried the little orange cat's matted fur, and tended to its wound. It was likely that a car had crushed the yearling's tail.
The next morning, having been fed and doctored, the newly named Little Boy had curled up on Grammy's pillow as though he planned on staying in that exact spot for the rest of his days. Typically, Grammy cared for strays only until homes could be found for them, so she never named the animals, but Little Boy clawed his way straight into the old woman's heart. As the months passed, she snuck table scraps back to her room and fed Little Boy choice tidbits until his stomach was a centimeter shy of sweeping the ground. Whenever the massive tabby saw Grammy coming, his purrs would echo like a waterfall and he'd wave the stump of his tail back and forth like a dog.
Ever since Cooper had been a child, cats, dogs, birds, opossums, raccoons, and rabbits had made their way to the back door of their house. At first, strays arrived sporadically, but once Grammy came to live with her son and his family, more and more animals began to seek refuge with the Lee clan. Grammy wasn't much of a people person, but the animal kingdom must have been aware that she had a soft spot for any creature with fur or feathers.
At the moment, she was caretaker to an injured turtle, a baby squirrel, and a three-legged dog. Those were temporary residents, however. Over the years, the only permanent additions to the Lee family had been Little Boy and Columbus the Hawk.
"Got your gloves?" Grammy asked when Cooper entered her room and handed her lettuce and carrots for the turtle's supper. "You handle Columbus's snack and I'll take care of the other critters." She turned away and stroked Little Boy. "Mama's got some juicy ham for you, my precious. Why, you're practically wastin' away!"
The cat purred and arched his back expectantly. Smiling at the pair, Cooper went out to the backyard, approached a birdcage large enough to house an ostrich, and pulled on her gloves.
"Like to go for a walk, big fellow?" she asked the magnificent red-tailed hawk perched inside. The raptor gazed at her with its piercing yellow eyes and then blinked three times, as though to signal his readiness to be released from captivity. Cooper opened the door to the aviary Earl had custom built and held out her arm. Columbus shook his head, ruffled his white and tawny feathers, and uttered a brief squawk as he alighted onto her right forearm.
Columbus had been shot through the wing during his days as a working bird at the county airport. Like a dozen other hawks and falcons, Columbus was encouraged to establish a territory around the runways. The birds of prey feasted on the less intelligent feathered inhabitants living near the airfield. In the past, several pigeons and doves had been known to fly right into the engine of a plane and when pesticides and owl decoys failed, birds of prey were hired in their place. The hawks, beloved by all the airfield pi lots and employees, had successfully prevented an accident since 1972. Columbus was one of the program's finest hunters and had performed his duty perfectly until someone decided to use him as target practice.
Columbus's plight was written up in the
Richmond Times-Dispatch,
and within the hour, Grammy was on the phone with the airfield and Earl found himself buying supplies with which to build a home for the feathered hero. Even though Grammy fed him rodents caught in traps Earl set out around the perimeter of their property, the mighty hunter preferred to catch his own fare several times a week. Due to his injury, he couldn't fly for long, but Columbus enjoyed his romps in the open air and Cooper always took plea sure in seeing him soar above the fields.
She walked him to the split-rail fence and then thrust her arm upward, providing him with a little momentum so that he could begin his circled ascent. As she methodically traced a splinter of wood on the top fence rail, Cooper watched Columbus climb higher and higher, his white breast gleaming against the cobalt sky. She held her breath as the sun illuminated his tail feathers and they glowed russet-red against a backdrop of chalk-dust clouds.
Cooper observed his graceful flight for several minutes and then let her eyes drift to the swaying tips of the pine trees. Looking back toward the earth, she noted the bold and brambly forsythia and a collection of robins rooting around beneath a loose blanket of dried leaves. Spring had arrived and Cooper should have been elated by the new season of growth. Instead, she found that she was weeping.
Swatting the tears away in annoyance, Cooper's attention was distracted by Columbus as he abruptly dove into the center of the field, his talons curved in preparation to strike. When the hawk rose above the tall grass seconds later, a squirming gray shape wriggling in the prison made by his left foot, Columbus seemed to wink at her with plea sure. He then alighted on the fence rail and consumed his meal in under a minute.
"Well, that's one less shrew for the taming," Cooper commented wryly as she held out her arm.
Just as she was returning a reluctant Columbus to his cage, Grammy appeared, wearing her Sunday afternoon tracksuit. She must have changed out of her church clothes while Cooper and Columbus were visiting the field. Grammy had a different color tracksuit for every day of the week. Sunday's was a deep purple and like all the others, was made out of the type of shiny polyester that made
swish-swish
noises with every step.
"You got something weighin' on your mind, girlie. I can just smell it." Grammy stuck a bony finger into Co-lumbus's cage and stroked the feathers on the top of his dignified head. "What's eatin' you?"
