The Forever Stone (28 page)

Next morning, Tara phoned Timothy to ask about her aunt. When she hung up the phone, she had the staring look on her face again. “Gone away. No one knows where.” Under her breath she added, “Probably dead too.”

Tara helped when Bria and Jude came to work, but the dull, hopeless expression in her eyes did not change.

After they left, Madeleine sent her back to the sofa for a nap. As for her, she was going to put barbequed chicken into the slow cooker and research Schnecken, the German cinnamon rolls. What was Nathan doing this afternoon?

She and Tara ate supper together on Madeleine’s bed, and Tara fed Mac bits of her chicken while she looked around the room. Her gaze rested on Madeleine’s paperweight. “I love that, with the calico flowers inside.” She picked it up and turned it over. “What’s on the back? PS7326?”

Madeleine smiled. “That refers to a verse in the Bible. My dad put it there.”

“Why?”

“To remind me that God will make me strong.”

“How come?”

“Because He loves me.”

“You kidding?”

“I’m not. The Bible talks a lot about God and His love. Forever-love, I call it.” She wanted to explain that she didn’t deserve God’s love, but Tara had dropped the paperweight onto the bed and turned away.

 “Pink calico is my favorite,” the girl said. “You’re lucky. I wish I had a forever stone.” She started feeding the rest of her chicken to Mac.

Madeleine watched her, praying for wisdom. What wheels were turning inside that pretty little head? Was even one of her thoughts drifting toward God?

When Tara’s plate was empty, she curled into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. After a long moment, she said, “I can’t go home. She’ll kill me.”

“Who?”

“Dixie. My aunt. I don’t mind so much when she hits me, but I hate it when she gets drunk.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I feel sorry for Sid. I get scared too, when she pulls out that little pistol of hers. Even after she shot my cat, I guess I would have stuck it out for a while longer, but . . .”

She stroked Mac’s tawny back until he began to purr. “But that one night . . .”

Her voice quavered as she described how Sid had been drinking with his buddies and afterward had come into the kitchen and grabbed her. She squirmed away, but Dixie had seen it and she had been furious.

Tara pushed a hand through her hair. “Blamed me for it. She hit me with that pistol of hers—said she’d kill me if I told anyone. And now I’ve told you.”

“But she doesn’t know,” Madeleine said. “She’s not God.”

“She’s the devil.” Tara pulled the cat into her arms, and he stayed there. She scratched between his ears. “I pray to God sometimes. I know He’s busy, and I’ve done a lot of bad stuff. Wish I could buy a truckload of that forever-love.”

“You don’t have to buy it.”

“Uh-huh.” She bent her head. “I’ve got to make some plans. That night I was sure He told me to run away. But now I don’t know what to do.”

Madeleine watched her, at a loss, and finally said, “God knows what you need.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t put beer in my glass.”

“He wouldn’t tell you to run away and then forget about you.”

The girl’s eyes fastened on her with a mixture of cunning and hope. “Maybe He wants you to help me.”

“He loves you, Tara.”

“That’s a hoot. After all the stuff He’s dished out to me—”

“It says so in the Bible.”

“Mom read the Bible a lot when she was sick, but I’ve heard it’s just a bunch of stories.”

“Sounds like your mom didn’t think so.”

Tara stretched, yawning. “The big question is: can I hang out here for a while?”

She threw a glance at Madeleine, jumped off the bed, and started out the door.

“I’ll talk to my aunt,” Madeleine said, following her down the hall. “Don’t worry about it tonight. Get some sleep and get strong.”

“Yes,” Tara said. “I’ve been feeling like a wimp, and I don’t like that.”

Madeleine watched as she slid under the blankets with the cat. “You know what, Tara? My forever-God can be your God too.”

The girl slid deeper into the blankets. “Hey, how ’bout the way this Mac purrs? He runs smooth as a Jaguar.”

Madeleine put a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Good night. We’ve got plenty to do tomorrow.”

She’d go to bed early herself. Trust God to work in Tara’s heart.

She dragged herself back to the bedroom. Just tired, probably.  

Was her phone ringing?  

His voice had the warmth of sunlight. “Mollie, I’m standing here thinking about you.”

Happiness bubbled up into a laugh. “Where in the world are you standing?”

“A used bookstore. They’ve got a whole section on British literature and another one on cooking. I’ve got to bring you here.” He paused. “If you’d like.”

“I love those stores, especially the crowded old dusty ones.”

“Have you ever heard of M.F.K. Fisher?”

“Yes!
How to Cook a Wolf.
That’s one of her books. No one writes like she does.”

“Just wondering. How are you? How’s Tara?”

She couldn’t admit how much the sound of his voice had brightened her world, but she told him what she’d learned from Tara, and he told her about his speech and the conference. Finally he said that the store was closing, so he’d better go.

The next morning they all worked on the dining room, giving it fresh paint and a frieze of stenciled pinecones created by Bria.

While they were eating a late lunch, Aunt Lin phoned to say that she was on her way back, and would it be okay for Kent and Remi to come over for supper that night.

Not okay, but Madeleine didn’t want to say anything over the phone. “If you’d like.”

“Good.” Her aunt seemed to be in a rush. “We’ll talk when I get there. See you soon.”

Aunt Lin admired the new appearance of the dining room and thanked both girls for their help. She didn’t seem particularly upset about Tara. She asked, privately, for as much information as Madeleine could give, and agreed that the girl could stay for a few more days.

The dining room looked presentable, supper turned out well, and Kent spent most of the meal talking about his book and related subjects.

Just get through the night without making a scene, Madeleine told herself. No point in signaling her intentions.

What, by the way, were her intentions? It was all very well to talk about scuttling boats.

She cut up the cake and served it, still thinking. She’d grab the first chance that came along, but it was hard to wait.

Remi seemed subdued this evening and didn’t say much, even when Madeleine tried to draw him into conversation.

Tara had disappeared as soon as the Bronco showed up in the driveway. If she’d been at the table, she would have fired up the conversation, and considering how pretty she was, Remi might have been more alert. But perhaps it was just as well.

“Madeleine, are you off in dreamland again?” Kent put a proprietary hand on her shoulder and she jerked away, almost knocking over her glass.

She stood to her feet and picked up the water pitcher, wishing she could dump it over him. Instead, she took it into the kitchen, refilled it, and returned.

He said, “I asked about the runaway girl you’ve been harboring. Does she have a name?”

“I imagine she does. Would anyone like more ice cream? I’ll get the coffee.” How had he found out?

“Coffee for me, please,” her aunt said. “Let’s see, you told me her name. Tara, isn’t it? What’s her last name?”

He’d find out eventually, and it probably wasn’t important. She took her time bringing in the coffee pot and filling Aunt Lin’s cup. “I’m not sure. Her uncle’s name is Marrick.”

Kent held out his cup and she filled it too, watching the frown gather on his face. “Where from?”

“Some place up near Mt. Misery, I think.”

“What’s the uncle’s first name?”

What was he after?

“Why? Do you know any Marricks?”

“Depends,” he said. “There’s plenty of them around, common as maggots on a dead rabbit.”

He fussed with his coffee, adding a spoonful of ice water, tasting it again, and his frown deepened. Finally he said, “That whole Marrick tribe is a bunch of trouble.”

“So you do know them,” she said.

“Went to school with some of their kids.” His lip curled. “One problem after another.” His voice sharpened. “That girl’s going to cause trouble, I can tell you. Runaway kid! Send her back as soon as you can.”

Remi straightened in his chair, watching Kent. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes glittered black fire. He picked up a teaspoon and twirled it in his fingers.

Madeleine poured herself some coffee she didn’t want. “I have no right to send her back. And I wouldn’t if I could. She’s afraid for her life.”  

Kent grunted. “Of course she is. That’s what they all say. I’m tired of these kids who run off because they can’t watch their favorite TV show.”

He rested a hand on the knife on his belt. “The trouble with you, Madeleine, is that you want to adopt every stray that comes along. First it’s that pathetic family. Then it’s that wildcat, and now it’s this girl.”  

Remi held the spoon lightly between the forefinger of each hand and slowly bent it in half.

She let her contempt show in her voice. “We’re not talking about animals here. This is a person, a human being, with feelings and hopes and fears just like we have. A needy human being.”

“If she’s a Marrick, she’s trouble,” he said. “Get rid of her. So, are we going to play Monopoly or not?”

Aunt Lin spoke up. “We’re not. I have a headache coming on, and I think you’re part of it, Kent.”

“Now that’s a shame.” He put on his genial air. “We’ll get out of your hair. Thank you, ladies, for another fine meal.” He strode into the kitchen.

Remi paused beside Madeleine. “If you need some help fixing up this house, leave a message at Timothy’s, okay? I can do just about anything, and I work for peanuts.”

“Good!” Madeleine smiled at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “We serve super deluxe peanuts here. We could use some muscle, I’m sure. I’ll tell my aunt.”

That brought a faint smile. “Thanks, Mollie.”

After they’d gone, she found the spoon he’d held. He had bent it back almost straight, except for a bump in the shaft. What was going on with Remi?

Aunt Lin moved quietly around the kitchen, putting things away. Finally she looked up. “What is it, Mollie? Did something happen with Kent while I was gone?”

Her aunt could read faces, too well.

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him tonight.” Madeleine leaned against the counter. It was time for Aunt Lin to know.

“He took me out for supper.” She explained her reasons and the problem with her car. She tried to keep her voice level, but her words gathered momentum. “He wanted to kiss me and . . . to . . . come inside, and he would have, if it weren’t for Mac, and the way he looked, I think he would have assaulted me.”

There, she’d said it.

Her aunt’s face turned white. “Mollie! I’m so sorry! It must have been terrible for you.” Her eyes flashed green fire. “I’ve never been sure about him. Thank God He kept you safe. Did you tell anyone? Are you doing okay?”

Madeleine nodded. “Timothy. And Nathan Parnell.”

“Both are good men. I’m glad for that.” Aunt Lin stood still for a minute, closed her eyes, and then put a hand to her forehead. “I hope this isn’t a migraine. I’ve got to lie down. Do you mind?”

“Not a bit,” Madeleine said. “It’s all over.” At least for now.

Her aunt started to nod but grimaced instead. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

After her aunt left, Madeleine looked down the darkened hall to the Blue Room. She hadn’t given Tara any supper. Was she still awake?

Tara’s face looked pale in the lamp light. “Are they gone?”

“Yes, there’s no need to be afraid.” She’d probably heard what Kent said. His voice had been loud enough.

She had Tara eat supper in the kitchen while she cleaned up, and they talked for a while, but Tara went back to her sofa right away. No confidences tonight. Maybe tomorrow, if they did some baking together.

She turned toward her bedroom. Just as well. She was too tired to be a good listener. She took a long shower, read six verses in Ephesians, and wrote in her journal. When she put her Bible down, she realized that the paperweight was missing from the bedside table.

Had Mac knocked it off? Whenever she found a pen on the floor, she knew he’d been playing “Roll-it-off.” She’d have to look for the paperweight. Tomorrow.