Faithless

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sara tightened her hand on Bob’s leash as his nose jerked toward the field on the side of the road. Being a sight hound, Bob had no control over his urge to chase anything that ran, and Sara knew if she let go of the leash, she would probably never see the dog again.

Jeffrey, who was holding just as tightly to Billy’s leash, glanced into t he field, too. “Rabbit?”

“Chipmunk,” she guessed, steering Bob to the other side of the road. He gave in easily, laziness being just as much of a genetic imperative for greyhounds, and loped down the road, his slim heinie shifting with each step.

Jeffrey slipped his arm around her waist. “You cold?”

“Uh-uh,” she said, closing her eyes against the sun. They had both cursed loudly when the phone had awakened them at five till seven this morning, but Cathy’s offer of a pancake breakfast had persuaded them to roll out of bed. They both had a lot of work to catch up on this weekend, but Sara reasoned they would be better prepared on a full stomach.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jeffrey said. “Maybe we should get another dog.”

She gave him a sideways glance. Bob had just about died of a heart attack this morning when Jeffrey turned on the shower without first checking to make sure the dog wasn’t sleeping in his usual spot.

“Or a cat?”

She laughed out loud. “You don’t even like the one we have now.”

“Well”-he shrugged-“maybe a new one, one we both picked out.”

Sara leaned her head back on his shoulder. Despite what Jeffrey believed, she couldn’t always read his mind, but right now Sara knew exactly what he really wanted. The way he had talked about Terri and her son last night had made Sara realize something that she had never even considered. For years, she had only thought of her inability to have children as a personal loss, but now she could see that it was Jeffrey’s loss as well. She couldn’t exactly explain why, but somehow, knowing he had this need as deeply as she did made it feel less like a failure and more like something to overcome.

“I’m gonna keep an eye on those kids,” he said, and she knew he meant Terri’s two children. “Pat’s going to come down pretty hard on him.”

Sara doubted the man’s brother held any sway in the matter, and asked, “Will Dale keep custody?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “When I was pushing on his chest…” Jeffrey began, and she knew that he felt sick about the fact that he had cracked two of Tim Stanley’s ribs while giving the boy CPR. “They’re so little. His bones are like toothpicks.”

“It beats letting him die,” Sara said. Then, realizing how hard her words must sound to him, she added, “Cracked ribs heal, Jeffrey. You saved Tim’s life. You did everything right.”

“I was glad to see that ambulance.”

“He’ll be out of the hospital in a few days,” she assured him, rubbing his back to soothe his worries. “You did everything right.”

“It made me think about Jared,” he said, and her hand stopped moving of its own accord. Jared, the boy he had thought of as a sort of nephew all these years, only to find out recently that he was actually a son.

He said, “I remember when he was little, I’d throw him up in the air and catch him. God, he loved that. He’d laugh so hard he’d get the hiccups.”

“I’m sure Nell wanted to kill you,” Sara said, thinking Jared’s mother had probably held her breath the entire time.

“I could feel his ribs pressing against my hands when I caught him. He’s got such a great laugh. He loved being up in the air.” He gave a half-smile, thinking out loud, “Maybe he’ll be a pilot one day.”

They walked, both of them silent, their footsteps and the jingle of the dogs’ metal ID tags the only sound. Sara pressed her head against Jeffrey’s shoulder, wanting more than anything to just be there in the moment. He tightened his arm around her, and she looked at the dogs, wondering what it would feel like to be pushing a stroller instead of holding on to a leash.

At the age of six, Sara had quite conceitedly told her mother that one day she would have two children, a boy and a girl, and that the boy would have blond hair and the girl would have brown. Cathy had teased her about this early show of single-mindedness well into Sara’s twenties. Through college, then medical school, then finally her internship, it had been a long-standing family joke, especially considering the fact that Sara’s dating life was sparse to say the least. They had mocked her relentlessly about her precociousness for years, then the teasing had abruptly stopped. At twenty-six, Sara had lost her ability to ever have a child. At twenty-six, she had lost her childhood belief that just wanting something badly enough made it possible.

Walking along the street, her head on Jeffrey’s shoulder, Sara let herself play that dangerous game, the one where she wondered what their children would have looked like. Jared had Jeffrey’s dark coloring, his mother’s intense blue eyes. Would their baby have red hair, a shock of auburn that grew like springs? Or would he have Jeffrey’s black, almost blue, mane, thick and wavy, the sort of hair you couldn’t stop running your fingers through? Would he be kind and gentle like his father, growing into the sort of man who would one day make some woman happier than she’d ever thought she could possibly be?

Jeffrey’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath and let it go.

Sara wiped her eyes, hoping he didn’t see how silly she was being. She asked, “How’s Lena?”

“I gave her the day off.” Jeffrey rubbed his eyes, too, but she couldn’t look up at him. “She deserves a medal for finally following orders.”

“The first time is always special.”

He acknowledged the joke with a wry chuckle. “God, she’s such a mess.”

She squeezed her arm around his waist, thinking that the two of them weren’t in much better shape themselves. “You know you can’t straighten her out, right?”

He gave another heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

She looked up at him, saw that his eyes were as moist as hers.

After a few seconds, he clicked his tongue at Billy, getting him back on the road. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” she echoed.

He cleared his throat several times before he could tell her, “Paul’s lawyer should be here around noon today.”

“Where’s he coming from?”

“ Atlanta,” Jeffrey said, all his disgust for the city resting on that one word.

Sara sniffed, trying to get her composure back. “Do you really think Paul Ward is going to confess to anything?”

“No,” he admitted, tugging on Billy’s leash as the dog stopped to investigate some weeds. “He shut his mouth as soon as we pulled Terri off him.”

Sara paused, thinking about the woman’s sacrifice. “Do you think the charges will stick?”

“The attempted kidnapping and shooting we’ve got down easy,” he answered. “You can’t argue with two cops as witnesses.” He shook his head. “Who knows which way it’ll go? I sure as shit could argue premeditated; I was right there. There’s no telling with a jury…” He let his voice trail off. “Your shoe’s untied.” He handed her Billy’s leash and knelt in front of her to tie the lace. “They’ve got him for murder during the commission of a felony, attempted murder with Lena. There has to be something in there that keeps him behind bars for a long time.”

“And Abby?” Sara asked, watching his hands. She remembered the first time he had tied her shoe for her. They had been in the woods, and she hadn’t been sure how she felt about him until that very moment when he had knelt down in front of her. Watching him now, all she could wonder was how she had ever not known how much she needed him in her life.

“Get back,” Jeffrey shooed Billy and Bob as the dogs tried to catch the moving laces. Jeffrey finished the double knot, then straightened, taking the leash. “I don’t know about Abby. Terri’s evidence put the cyanide in his hands, but she’s not here to tell the tale. Dale’s not exactly gonna brag about how he told Paul to use the salts.” He put his arm back around her waist, pulling her closer as they continued walking. “Rebecca’s shaky. Esther told me I could talk to her tomorrow.”

“Do you think she’ll give you anything useful?”

“No,” he admitted. “All she can say is that she found some papers Abby left. Hell, she can’t even say for sure whether or not Abby left them. She didn’t hear what happened with Terri because she was in the closet the whole time and she can’t testify about the burials because it’s hearsay. Even if a judge let it in, Cole was the one who put the girls in the boxes. Paul kept his hands clean.” He admitted, “He covered his tracks pretty well.”

Sara said, “I don’t imagine even a slick lawyer from Atlanta will be able to put a good spin on the fact that his client’s entire family is willing to testify against him.” Oddly, that was the real threat to Paul Ward. Not only had he forged his family’s signatures on the policies, he had cashed checks written out to them and pocketed the money. The fraud alone could keep him in prison until he was an old man.

“His secretary’s recanted, too,” Jeffrey told her. “She says Paul didn’t work late that night after all.”

“What about the people on the farm who died? The workers Paul had policies on.”

“Could be they just died and Paul lucked out,” he said, though she knew he didn’t believe that. Even if he wanted to prosecute, there was nothing Jeffrey could do to find any evidence of foul play. The nine bodies had been cremated and their families- if they had any- had given up on them long ago.

He told her, “Cole’s murder is the same story. There weren’t any prints but his on the coffee jar. Paul’s fingerprints were in the apartment, but so were everybody else’s.”

“I think Cole got his own justice,” she said, aware that she was being harsh. In her years before Jeffrey, Sara had had the luxury of seeing the law in very black-and-white terms. She had trusted the courts to do their jobs, jurors to take their oaths seriously. Living with a cop had made her do a sharp about-face.

“You did a good job,” she told him.

“I’ll feel like that’s true when Paul Ward’s sitting on death row.”

Sara would rather see the man live out the rest of his natural life behind bars, but she wasn’t about to start a death penalty discussion with Jeffrey. This was the one thing that he couldn’t change her mind on, no matter how hard he tried.

They had reached the Linton house, and Sara saw her father kneeling in front of her mother’s white Buick. He was washing the car, using a toothbrush to clean out the spokes on the tire rims.

“Hey, Daddy,” Sara said, kissing the top of his head.

“Your mother was out at that farm,” Eddie grumbled, dipping the toothbrush into some soapy water. He was obviously bothered that Cathy had paid her old boyfriend a visit, but had decided to take it out on the car instead. “I told her to take my truck, but does she ever listen to me?”

Sara was aware that as usual her father had not bothered to acknowledge Jeffrey’s presence. She said, “Daddy?”

“Huh?” he grumbled.

“I wanted to tell you…” She waited for him to look up. “Jeffrey and I are living together.”

“No shit,” Eddie said, returning to the tire.

“We’re thinking of getting another dog.”

“Congratulations,” he answered, his tone far from celebratory.

“And getting married,” she added.

The toothbrush paused, and beside her, Jeffrey actually gasped.

Eddie brushed at a speck of tar with the toothbrush. He looked up at Sara, then at Jeffrey. “Here,” he said, holding the toothbrush out to Jeffrey. “If you’re going to be part of this family again, you’ve got to take your share of responsibilities.”

Sara took Billy’s leash from Jeffrey so that he could take off his jacket. He handed it to her, saying, “Thanks.”

She gave him her sweetest smile. “My pleasure.”

Jeffrey took the brush and knelt beside her father, going at the spokes in earnest.

This obviously wasn’t good enough for Eddie. He instructed, “Put some elbow grease into it. My girls can do a better job than that.”

Sara put her hand to her mouth so that they wouldn’t see her smile.

She left them alone to either bond or kill each other, tying the dogs’ leashes around the railing on the front porch. Inside, there was a burst of laughter from the kitchen, and Sara walked down the hall, thinking that it felt like years had passed instead of six days since the last time she had made this trip.

Cathy and Bella were almost in the exact place as before, Bella sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper, Cathy working at the stove.

“What’s going on?” Sara asked, kissing her mother’s cheek as she stole a piece of bacon off the plate.

“I’m leaving,” Bella told her. “This is my farewell breakfast.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sara answered. “I feel like I haven’t even seen you.”

“Because you haven’t,” Bella pointed out. She waved off Sara’s apology. “You’ve been tied up with your work stuff.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“ Atlanta,” Bella said, then gave her a wink. “Take a long nap before you come see me.”

Sara rolled her eyes.

“I mean it, sugar,” Bella told her. “Come see me.”

“I might be a little busy for a while,” Sara began, not quite knowing how to deliver her news. She felt a foolish grin on her lips as she waited for their undivided attention.

“What is it?” her mother asked.

“I’ve decided to marry Jeffrey.”

Cathy turned back to the stove, saying, “Well, that took long enough. It’s a wonder he still wants you.”

“Thanks a lot,” Sara answered, wondering why she even bothered.

“Don’t mind your mama, darling,” Bella said, rising from the table. She hugged Sara hard, saying, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Sara responded in a pointed tone, mostly for her mother’s benefit. Cathy seemed oblivious.

Bella folded the paper and tucked it under her arm. “I’ll leave y’all to talk,” she told them. “Don’t say anything bad about me unless I can hear it.”

Sara watched her mother’s back, wondering why she wasn’t speaking. Finally, Sara couldn’t stand the silence, and said, “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m happy for Jeffrey,” Cathy told her. “You took your own damn sweet time.”

Sara folded Jeffrey’s jacket over the back of Bella’s chair and sat down. She was ready for a lecture on her own failings, so she was surprised at Cathy’s next words.

“Bella told me you went to that church with your sister.”

Sara wondered what else her aunt had told her mother. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You met Thomas Ward?”

“Yes,” Sara repeated, dropping the ma’am. “He seems like a very nice man.”

Cathy tapped her fork on the side of the skillet before turning around. She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you have a question to ask me, or would you rather take the cowardly route and filter it through your aunt Bella again?”

Sara felt a flush work its way up her neck to her face. She hadn’t thought it through at the time, but her mother was right. Sara had mentioned her fears to Bella because she knew her aunt would take it back to her mother.

She took a breath, screwing up her courage. “Was he the one?”

“Yes.”

“Lev is…” Sara searched for the words, wishing she could do this through her aunt Bella. Her mother’s eyes pierced her like needles. “Lev has red hair.”

“Are you a doctor?” Cathy asked sharply.

“Well, ye-”

“Did you go to medical school?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about genetics.” Cathy was angrier than Sara had seen her mother in a long time. “Did you even stop to think how your father would feel if he thought you thought even for a minute-” She stopped, obviously trying to control her fury. “I told you at the time, Sara. I told you it was purely emotional. It was never physical.”

“I know.”

“Have I ever lied to you in my life?”

“No, Mama.”

“It would break your father’s heart if he knew…” She had been pointing her finger at Sara, but she dropped her hand. “Sometimes I wonder if you have a brain in your head.” She turned back around to the stove, picking up the fork.

Sara took the rebuff as well as she could, keenly aware that her mother had not really answered her question. Unable to stop herself, she repeated, “Lev has red hair.”

Cathy dropped the fork, turning back around. “So did his mother, you idiot!”

Tessa entered the kitchen, a thick book in her hands. “Whose mother?”

Cathy reined herself in. “Never you mind.”

“Are you making pancakes?” Tessa asked, dropping the book on the table. Sara read the title: The Complete Works of Dylan Thomas.

“No,” Cathy mocked. “I’m turning water into wine.”

Tessa shot a look at Sara. Sara shrugged, as if she wasn’t the cause of her mother’s fury.

“Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” Cathy informed them. “Set the table.”

Tessa stood in place. “I actually had plans this morning.”

“Plans to do what?” Cathy asked.

“I told Lev I’d come by the church,” she said, and Sara bit her tongue not to say anything.

Tessa saw the effort and defended, “This is a hard time for all of them.”

Sara nodded, but Cathy’s back was straight as an arrow, her disapproval as obvious as a flashing light.

Tessa tried to tread carefully. “They’re not all bad people just because of what Paul did.”

“I didn’t say they were.” Cathy provided, “Thomas Ward is one of the most upstanding men I have ever met.” She glared at Sara, daring her to say something.

Tessa apologized, “I’m sorry I’m not going to your church, I just-”

Cathy snapped, “I know exactly why you’re going over there, missy.”

Tessa raised her eyebrows at Sara, but Sara could only shrug again, glad her mother was taking up the fight.

“That is a house of worship.” Cathy pointed her finger at Tessa this time. “Church is not just another place to get laid.”

Tessa barked a laugh, then stopped when she saw that her mother was serious. “It’s not that,” she defended. “I like being there.”

“You like Leviticus Ward.”

“Well,” Tessa allowed, a smile curling her lips. “Yeah, but I like being at the church, too.”

Cathy tucked her hands into her hips, looking back and forth between her two daughters as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

Tessa said, “I’m serious, Mama. I want to be there. Not just for Lev. For me.”

Despite her feelings on the subject, Sara backed her up. “She’s telling the truth.”

Cathy pressed her lips together, and for a moment Sara thought she might cry. She had always known that religion was important to her mother, but Cathy had never forced it down their throats. She wanted her children to choose spirituality of their own accord, and Sara could see now how happy she was that Tessa had come around. For a brief moment, Sara felt jealous that she couldn’t do the same.

“Breakfast ready?” Eddie bellowed, the front door slamming behind him.

Cathy’s grin turned into a scowl as she turned back to the stove. “Your father thinks I’m running a damn Waffle House.”

Eddie padded into his room, his toes sticking out of his socks. Jeffrey was behind him with the dogs, who promptly came to the table and settled on the floor, waiting for scraps.

Eddie looked at his wife’s stiff back, then at his daughters, obviously sensing the tension. “Car’s cleaned,” Eddie offered. He seemed to be waiting for something and Sara thought if he was looking for a medal, he had picked the wrong morning.

Cathy cleared her throat, flipping a pancake in the skillet. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Sara realized she hadn’t told her sister the news. She turned to Tessa. “Jeffrey and I are getting married.”

Tessa put her finger in her mouth and used it to make a popping noise. The “Woo-hoo” she uttered was far from ecstatic.

Sara sat back in her chair, resting her feet on Bob’s belly. As much crap as she had gotten from her family over the last three years, she thought she at least deserved a hearty handshake.

Cathy asked Jeffrey, “Did you enjoy the chocolate cake I sent you the other night?”

Sara stared down at Bob as if the meaning of life was writ large on his abdomen.

Jeffrey drew out the word, “Ye-ah,” giving Sara a cutting look that she felt without having to see. “Best yet.”

“I’ve got more in the fridge if you want it.”

“That’s great,” he told her, his tone sickly sweet. “Thank you.”

Sara heard a trilling sound, and it took her a moment to realize Jeffrey’s cell phone was ringing. She dug around in his jacket pocket and pulled out the phone, handing it to him.

“Tolliver,” he said. He looked confused for a second, then his expression went dark. He walked back into the hall for some privacy. Sara could still hear what he was saying, but there weren’t many clues from his side of the conversation. “When did he leave?” he asked. Then: “Are you sure you want to do this?” There was a slight pause before he said, “You’re doing the right thing.”

Jeffrey returned to the kitchen, making his apologies. “I have to go,” he said. “Eddie, do you mind if I borrow your truck?”

Much to Sara’s surprise, her father answered, “Keys are by the front door,” as if he hadn’t spent the last five years hating every bone in Jeffrey’s body.

Jeffrey asked, “Sara?”

She grabbed his jacket and walked with him down the hall. “What’s going on?”

“That was Lena,” he said, excited. “She said Ethan stole a gun from Nan Thomas last night.”

“ Nan has a gun?” Sara asked. She couldn’t imagine the librarian having anything more lethal than a set of pinking shears.

“She said it’s in his book bag.” Jeffrey took Eddie’s keys off the hook by the front door. “He left for work five minutes ago.”

She handed him his jacket. “Why is she telling you this?”

“He’s still on parole,” Jeffrey reminded her, barely able to control his elation. “He’ll have to serve his full term- ten more years in jail.”

Sara didn’t trust any of this. “I don’t understand why she called you.”

“It doesn’t matter why,” he said, opening the door. “What matters is he’s going back to jail.”

Sara felt a stab of fear as he walked down the front steps. “Jeffrey.” She waited for him to turn around. All she could think to say was, “Be careful.”

He winked at her, as if it was no big deal. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“He has a gun.”

“So do I,” he reminded her, walking toward her father’s truck. He waved, as if to shoo her away. “Go on. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The truck door squeaked open and, with great reluctance, she turned to go back inside.

Jeffrey stopped her again, calling, “Mrs. Tolliver?”

Sara turned around, her foolish heart fluttering at the name.

He gave her a crooked smile. “Save me some cake.”