Voices Carry (21 page)

Sometimes, in his darkest times, just the thought of that first one, that first time, restored his spirit. After all, through them, had he not fulfilled his purpose?

Had they not been brought to that place to tempt him? Was it not his job to purify them, to consecrate their bodies with his own? Once it became apparent to him that purification was the only way of saving them, well, what could he do? It was clear to him that he’d been chosen for that very purpose, the shepherd who would lead the children out of sin. Wasn’t that why he’d been sent there in the first place?

And Jennifer Duncan, at age eleven, had been the first of the wayward to be taken under his wing, the first to be purified by the spilling of his seed.

She’d also been one of the first to break the covenant. And one of the first to be taken.

He stared at her photo, trying to decide which of his times with her had been the most memorable. The first, so many years past, or the last, just a few short weeks ago?

Sadly, she’d been the first to be lost.

He shook his head. He had simply miscalculated how long she could go without water.

The others could thank her for forcing him to take greater pains with their care. It just hadn’t occurred to him that the extreme heat that first week would have increased her need for liquids. He should have thought of it, but he hadn’t at the time. He’d had so much on his mind. He had things under better control now, though, which was a good thing, considering his absences.

He studied the photograph for one more long moment before slipping it back into the envelope. Someday, he’d take the time to put them into an album. He smiled at the thought of having so perfect a record of his finest hours, then laughed as he mentally titled the book which would surely be a thick one.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation.

“. . . and this was Genna’s graduation,” Patsy was saying as Genna unlocked the door of her apartment to find Patsy and Crystal curled up on the sofa with a box of photographs between them.

“For heaven’s sake, Patsy,” Genna exclaimed, “what are you doing?”

“I’m giving Crystal the opportunity to share in her little sister’s growing up,” Patsy replied without looking up. “Now, as I was saying, this was graduation. . .”

“From high school?” Crystal leaned over slightly to peer at the picture, still in the cardboard frame it came in.

“From college. Genna graduated Magna Cum Laude,” Patsy told her proudly. “Of course, I have a larger version of this framed and hanging in the living room back home.”

“College?” Crystal looked across the room at Genna. “You went to college?”

Genna nodded.

“Where?” Crystal asked.

“Bloomsburg University,” Genna replied. “It’s just about in the middle of the state. Of Pennsylvania, that is.”

Genna dropped her briefcase and walked toward the sofa.

“What did you study?”

“I majored in biology. Secondary education. I thought I wanted to teach high school.”

“Did you?” Crystal asked. “Teach high school?”

“For two years.”

“Not nearly long enough,” Patsy muttered.

Genna sat down on the end of the wooden chest that served as her coffee table.

“No one in our family ever went to college, before you,” Crystal noted, then added, as if embarrassed by the admission, “I didn’t even finish high school.”

“Why not?” Genna asked.

“Because Daddy lost his church after. . . well, right after that whole business with Brother Michael. Mr. Homer was so upset about his brother—” Crystal turned to Patsy to explain, “Brother Michael was Mr. Homer’s real blood brother, I’m guessin’ you knew that. And Mr. Homer was a very important man in the church where Daddy preached. He just didn’t think it was fittin’ for Daddy to stay there after, well, after what had happened.”

“So where did you go?” Genna toed off her high heels.

“First we went back to Kentucky. Daddy preached some down there, then we went to West Virginia for a while, then back to Kentucky again. We didn’t stay anyplace too long. That’s why I didn’t get to finish school. We just never stayed long enough in one place.” Her face clouded over and the drawl crept back into her voice. “And Momma was just getting worse and worse as time went on. Cryin’ all the time and refusin’ to go outside. Got so bad she barely
even went to church anymore, and of course, that just infuriated Daddy no end.”

“Your mother had a breakdown?” Patsy asked softly.

“Yes. She wasn’t diagnosed by a psychiatrist, you understand. Daddy wouldn’t have stood for that—he was heavy into faith healing and didn’t put much stock in doctors in general.” Crystal added somewhat wryly, “But over the years I did come to recognize the signs.”

“Genna said you’d been hospitalized yourself,” Patsy said with the same ease with which she’d comment on someone’s choice of clothing.

“Yes. On and off for many years.”

“And are you still under treatment?”

“Patsy!” Genna turned to face her, surprised by her uncommon bluntness.

“It’s okay, Genna. Patsy’s just trying to establish the rules. I appreciate that. Everything out in the open, right, Patsy?”

“Right,” Patsy nodded, impressed by Crystal’s insight.

“Yes, I am still under treatment. I’ve been living in a halfway house, but under supervision.”

“Why? What do they suppose you might do if you’re not supervised?”

“They’re not sure if I might try to kill myself again.”

“I see.” Patsy bit the inside of her bottom lip. “Will you?”

“I don’t think so. A few weeks ago,” Crystal shrugged, “I’m not so sure. But things are different now.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve dropped a lot of old baggage over the past few days.”

“Does your counselor or whomever know where you are?” Patsy asked.

“I called yesterday. They wanted me to come right back. They wanted to send someone for me, to bring me back. But I’m not ready to go back just yet. And Genna said I didn’t have to.”

“Of course, you don’t have to. I’m just concerned that if you’re supposed to be getting something—therapy or medication or whatever—that you’re doing without, well, we’d need to be thinking about that.” Patsy patted Crystal on the knee.

“I have enough medication to take me through another few weeks, but I am supposed to be continuing with my therapy twice a week,” Crystal admitted. “I already skipped last week, and my doctor wasn’t too happy.”

“Well, now, what shall we do about that?” Patsy asked.

“I. . . I don’t know.”

“Maybe we could call your counselor and see what she can suggest.”

“She’ll suggest that you send me back to Kentucky, since the state pays her for my treatment.”

“Then we’ll just have to ask what her second choice might be,” Patsy said thoughtfully, “and maybe I can help you come up with something suitable for while you’re here. For however long that might be.”

I’d bet on it,
Genna smiled to herself and went into the kitchen to start dinner. When had Patsy ever not succeeded in coming up with something suitable when it was necessary?

Genna wasn’t at all surprised to discover that Patsy had already started dinner. One sniff from the
kitchen door told her that Patsy’s favorite chicken casserole was baking in the oven, and unless her nose was playing tricks on her, that was one of Patsy’s fresh peach pies cooling on top of the stove.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” Patsy called to Genna from the living room. “We weren’t certain when you’d be home, so I put it on a little later than usual. It should be ready by seven.”

“Patsy Wheeler, I could just fall over and faint,” Genna stood in the doorway, fighting the smile that threatened to play at both corners of her mouth. “You’re off schedule by an entire hour.”

Patsy laughed and nodded, saying, “I know it’s a shocker. But there are times when we must make allowances for other more important things than precedent. Tonight seemed to be one of those times. I wanted the three of us to have dinner together.”

“Thank you, Pats.” Genna locked eyes with her foster mother from across the room.

“Think nothing of it. Now you go on and change your clothes and Crystal and I will get dinner on the table.”

“I won’t be but a minute.”

“Take your time, honey.” Patsy turned to Crystal and said, “Chrissie, honey, I think it’s time you started on that salad dressing you were talking about making. Does it have garlic in it? Good. Come along. I’ll chop for you. . .”

Over the next few days, Genna watched as Patsy worked her magic on Crystal, drawing her out more and more, earning her trust in little ways. When Patsy finally proposed that Crystal might want to see Dr. Berger, a psychiatrist friend of hers who just happened to have a cottage across the lake, Crystal
agreed with little hesitation. Dr. Berger could call Crystal’s counselor in Kentucky, Patsy had suggested, and get copies of her records and her prescriptions. Only if Crystal wanted her to, that is, just in case Crystal thought she might want to stay around for a little longer.

Crystal thought she might.

“I’ll just give Nancy a call, if you don’t mind, dear,” Patsy said on Friday evening. “I don’t want her to worry. Not that there’s reason to, of course. Brian still has his watchdog set up in the house across the road. Frankly, it gives me the willies, knowing that someone is watching my house all the time.”

“Who is watching the house all the time?” Genna asked.

“Oh, that security guard that Brian hired. I know it’s not right to judge someone else on such pettiness, but this Kenny Harris just flat out gives me the creeps sometimes.”

“Patsy, that’s so unlike you.” Genna mused. For Patsy, who was the only person Genna had ever met who always looked for the best in everyone she met, the comment was downright uncharitable. “What is it about him that bothers you?”

“I can’t put my finger on it. He just doesn’t say much, you know? He’ll sit in that little screened porch out front for hours looking across the road, but when you walk over and try to talk to him, he just sort of brushes you off.”

“Maybe he’s just shy,” Crystal offered.

“Maybe so.”

“Well, a little shyness never stopped you before, Pats,” Genna teased. “I’ll bet you’ll have him eating
out of the palm of your hand before the summer’s over.”

“We’ll see.”

“I can’t see anyone bein’ immune to you, Patsy.” Crystal shook her head. “You could charm the warts off a toad if you wanted to.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, honey. Thank you.” Patsy grinned and reached for the phone.

“Come on out to the deck,” Crystal said, enthusiastically waving Genna toward the dining room. “Wait till you see. . .”

Crystal unlocked the door and pushed it open, then stood back while Genna stepped out onto the small deck.

“Doesn’t it look beautiful?” Crystal pointed to the window boxes that overflowed with purple and pink petunias and some sort of viney thing that trailed down a foot or so past the window.

“Oh, that is
so
beautiful!” Genna exclaimed. “Did Patsy do this?”

“Patsy and I both worked on it while you were at work today. We picked out the flowers together, and she showed me what to put in the box before the plants went in. Honestly, Genna, the dirt that was in there was hard as a rock.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a green thumb. Every year, Pats plants that window box up for me, and I get all involved with what I’m doing, and I forget all about it.”

“Well, I’ll make sure it’s kept watered,” Crystal said, then hastened to add, “For as long as I’m here, that is.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Genna squeezed her sister’s hand. “For as long as you’re here.”

“Actually, Patsy said we’d only be around for another day or so. Dr. Berger can’t see me until Tuesday, so we’ll go on up to the lake on Sunday, Patsy said. And then. . . well, who knows what then?”

“You’re welcome to stay here, but I know that Patsy would be delighted to have you stay with her for a while.”

“She did offer. I can’t believe how wonderful she is.” Crystal shook her head. “She’s every bit the angel you said she was. I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have met her sooner, Chris.”

“So am I,” Crystal said. “Maybe I wouldn’t be as screwed up as I am. Although. . .”

She stopped and looked out toward the woods at the far end of the parking lot.

“Although what?”

“I was just thinking that I’ve actually felt so much better these past few days, that maybe I don’t need my medication anymore.”

“Don’t mess with it, Crystal. Let the doctors decide that. Maybe in time you’ll be able to cut it back, maybe eliminate it, but I don’t think that’s something you should arbitrarily play with.”

“I guess you’re right. In any event, I can understand now, after spending a few days with your Patsy, how you turned out the way you did.” Crystal turned her back and leaned her arms on the deck railing. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.”

“I’m sorry, Chrissie. If I could reach back through time and change things, I would.”

“I know. And I appreciate that you’re willing to
share her with me now. That you’re willing to let me be a part of your life after everything—”

“Move past it, Chrissie.” Genna cut her off. “We can’t change what was.”

“I’m just feeling a little humbled by all this. By the way you treat me, even after. . .” She paused, then smiled a tiny smile when Genna raised her eyebrows in warning. “Okay. I won’t say anymore.”

“Good.” Genna pulled out a chair and sat in it, then motioned toward the other one, saying, “Now, why not sit for a few minutes and tell me where you learned to make a lemon soufflé like the one you made for dinner tonight. . .”

By Sunday morning, the axiom “Three’s a crowd” had taken on a whole new meaning for Genna. After several years of living alone and sharing only occasional living space with Patsy at the lake, the tight quarters in the apartment had begun to wear on her nerves. So she was surprised to feel a little bit of a letdown when she arrived home on Monday after work to the quiet space she’d been longing for just forty-eight hours earlier.

“Be careful what you ask for,” she reminded herself as she sifted through the leftovers Patsy had stored in plastic containers in the refrigerator.