Hope's Corner

by Chris Keniston

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a big girl. I don’t need watching over.”

  “I know you can take care of yourself, but I won’t get any rest worrying if you’re sleeping or having trouble with more dreams.”

  “I can call Valerie.”

  “I tried that last night. She has other ideas.” Jeff squeezed her hand. “If nothing else, do this for me?”

  “Then Jake. He loves playing protective big brother.”

  “Protective?” Harlon cut in. “What’s happened?”

  Having placed cups in front of everyone at the table, standing over the kettle that wouldn’t boil, Etta Mae shot her husband an oh-Lord-now-what look. One of the many subtle communications his parents had perfected probably before he could walk.

  Pam eyed Jeff, then barely nodded for him to tell the story. “We went to the Dallas police station today. Pam remembered the face of the man who killed Travis.”

  “That’s wonderful news.” Etta rushed over to give Pam a full-press motherly hug. “You’ll rest better once justice has been served.”

  “It already has.” Pam took in a deep breath. “He was found dead in an alley shortly after the…after that night. He had a record. The police didn’t have any real clues. Chalked it up to a drug deal gone bad. He had a history of petty theft and assault. It seems he finally met his match.”

  “You reap what you sow.” Etta pushed away at the sound of the whistling kettle.

  “Your mother’s right.” Harlon nodded. “Play in the devil’s backyard and you’re bound to get burned.”

  “There’s more.” Jeff hesitated while Etta Mae poured water into his mug. “Travis’s partner was the last attorney to defend the guy.”

  Neither Harlon nor Etta showed any expression. Harlon waited. Etta poured the last cup then carried the kettle back to the stove.

  Pam wrapped her hands around the warm mug to still the tremble. “It’s looking like Greg might have had something to do with what happened to us that night.”

  Etta gasped, her hand quickly clapped against her still-open mouth.

  Harlon looked to his son. “The nightmares?”

  Jeff nodded.

  “Then it’s settled.” Etta Mae stiffened her shoulders. The pastor’s wife was once again at the table prepared to do nurture or battle, whichever the situation called for. “Jeff is right. You’ll stay here with us.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Why don’t you run home and put an overnight bag together. I’ll go put clean sheets on the bed in Carol Ann’s old room.”

  Pam stood to follow Etta Mae. “At least let me do that.”

  Etta turned to Pam, and gave her the look that had usually been reserved only for her children.

  Pam retracted immediately. The same as Etta’s children would. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll go put a few things in a bag. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Do you want company?” Jeff asked.

  Pam sighed. “I think I can handle this much alone.”

  She made quick business of scurrying across the yard and in the front door. The entire evening had left her nerves on end, and now an eerie sensation of being watched hung over her. Taking her time, moving from bedroom to bathroom and back again, she tried taking deep breaths and thinking good thoughts. No matter how much she shifted her thoughts to Jeff and their future, along with all the other fears and doubts battling about inside her, she couldn’t shake the feeling someone was out there watching—no matter how absurd.

  Her carry-on bag in hand, Pam flipped off the light switch. Cloaked in darkness she inched her way to the window. Nothing. A peaceful suburban neighborhood in small-town East Texas spread out before her. Minutes ticked by while she stood in the dark waiting. But for what?

  “Oh, Jeff. Here I am being silly again.” She shook off her ill-ease, slipped out the back door, and turned the lock. As if she didn’t have enough working against her, now she had to learn to deal with paranoia.

  At midnight, wearing her favorite pink terry cloth robe, the one her mom had given her for Christmas the year before she'd passed away, and snuggled in Jeff’s arms, Pam watched the flickering light from the Parkers’ fireplace.

  Jeff had promised his mother that he wouldn’t go home until the fire had completely burned out. Judging from the few remaining flames and fading orange embers, it wouldn’t be long now. By the time she’d left her house, that odd sensation had lifted, and she’d decided there was no point in telling Jeff. The last thing he needed was one more thing to worry over her about. Now looking into the fire, she wondered why she had let her mind wander in absurd directions and was glad she hadn’t told Jeff.

  Jeff gave her a peck on the cheek. “Maybe I could stay here tonight?”

  “If you were going to stay, we could have done that at my place.”

  “At your place I wouldn’t get any sleep.” For the first time all day his smile reached his eyes.

  She pulled out of his arms and sat up on the sofa. “The fire is almost out.”

  Jeff’s expression morphed into the perfect three-year-old pout.

  “Not that fire.” She smacked him lightly on the arm, a heartfelt grin on her face. “You should head home. As soon as this is out, I’ll head up to bed. Then we’ll both get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I could probably make the sacrifice and stay until the embers burn out.”

  “I love you too much to put you through that.” It was fun to feel light enough to tease.

  Jeff pulled her into his arms again. “Say that again.”

  She grinned. “The part about you heading home or the one about a good night’s sleep?”

  “The part about I love you too much.”

  “I love you too much,” she whispered just before his lips met hers.

  Tender, soft, like the caress of a fresh rose petal, she loved Jeff’s kisses. Just another minute and she’d be logical and send him home.

  Pulling back, resting his forehead against hers, without opening his eyes, he blew out a slow ragged breath. “The next month is going to kill me.”

  “I think you’ll live.”

  “Maybe.” Jeff loosened his hold, slowly pushing to his feet. “Lock the door behind me.”

  “Yes, sir, Captain.” She saluted.

  Jeff rolled his eyes, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. “I’m out of here. I’ll be by for breakfast.”

  Pam nodded, nudged him through the door, then shut it behind him. There was no point in arguing. She suspected he would be hovering closely for the next few days, and to her surprise, she didn’t mind one bit.

  Halfway to the sofa, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden banging on the front door.

  “Pam!”

  Tripping awkwardly over her dangling belt, she tumbled to the door, swinging it open with such force it bounced off the wall. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your house is on fire.” He shoved his cell phone into her hand. “I’ve already dialed 9-1-1. Tell them where you are.”

  In a flash he’d turned on his heel and galloped down the porch, tearing across the yard at full speed.

  “Peaches!” she screamed.

  “Stay put! I’ll find her,” Jeff yelled from across the lawn.

  Tears in her eyes, she followed Jeff’s shadow until he disappeared into the backyard. “Be safe. Both of you.”

  Everything seemed to pass in hurried slow motion. By the time the blaring sirens of the first fire truck’s arrival could be heard, Harlon and Etta Mae had come dashing down the stairs. Draping her arm around Pam to keep her close, Etta Mae and her future daughter-in-law followed Harlon out the door. Pam’s neighbor on the other side sprayed her home with his garden hose while his wife stood uneasily on the curb with all the other neighbors occasionally calling out Be careful. Even Euphemia had coupled hoses together and dragged them across the street to be used in the wetting down of Pam’s roof.

  By morning, despite the efforts of most neighbors and the Hope’s Corner Fire Department, not m
uch was left of Pam’s home.

  “A faulty panel box did that?” Jeff pointed to the charred structure beside them.

  “Most likely. The company that made the box went out of business years ago. Breakers are known to simply not work. I can’t tell you how many house fires we’re called on because of a short in a failed circuit breaker.”

  “Hmm,” Jeff mumbled.

  Pam stared at the black and charcoaled outline of her home. “When can I see if anything can be salvaged?”

  “I’d let it cool another day.”

  “Thank you.” She waved her arm in the direction of the men wrapping up hoses and loading equipment onto the large red truck. “All of you.”

  “The inspectors will have an official cause of fire for you in a few days.” With a brief nod and a wave, the chief scurried off to give his men a hand.

  No matter how many sweaters she wore, there was no escaping the bone-deep chill coursing through her body. Too much had happened. Too much heartache in only a few hours. Despite the darkness she’d uncovered in the last day, the deceit of a trusted friend, her mind wandered to all her belongings. Not the sofa or jewelry, but her memories. The afghans her mother had made. The albums filled with photos of her family, her mother. “Mom’s favorite rolling pin.”

  “What?” Jeff asked.

  “Do you think it survived?”

  “Did what survive?”

  “Mom’s favorite rolling pin.”

  “I thought your mother didn’t bake?”

  “She baked. All the time. It was just never edible.” The memory of the doorstop loaf of bread made Pam smile.

  Jeff slung an arm around her and pulled her close. “The important thing is you’re safe.”

  “The chief said if I’d been home, I’d have been trapped upstairs.”

  “Don’t think about that. You and Peaches are alive and well. Most everything else can be replaced. You can’t.” His gaze drifted back, surveying the damage.

  “But you’re still worried?”

  One corner of his mouth inched up in a sly smile. “Reading my mind like an old married woman already?”

  “Maybe. What is it?”

  Lips pressed together, Jeff focused a long moment at the smoking ashes before speaking. “I can’t help but wonder if this has anything to do with Greg. He knows you’re starting to remember, and if he’s guilty”—Jeff raised his hand to cut her off before she could interrupt—“If he’s guilty, you are the only living witness of his supposed crimes.”

  She spun in his arms and dropped her head on his shoulder. “I won’t believe that.”

  “I know, but just in case…”

  “I’ll call Detective Hannigan,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I won’t like it.”

  “Have they found him yet?” Etta Mae set a glass of sweet tea in front of her son.

  “Not yet.” For over a week since the house fire, the Dallas police had been unable to locate and speak with Greg Johnston. He was out of cell phone range. Camping. Not that the police were buying his secretary’s lame excuses. A judge had issued a warrant for all of Greg’s financial records, something Jeff was surprised to find hadn’t been done when Travis had died. So far the lawyer was smelling anything but rosy.

  “I didn’t want to ask Pammy. She seems to be settling, accepting the loss. If she’s not thinking about him, I certainly don’t want to drag her mind in that direction.”

  “Salvaging some of her mom’s things helped.”

  “It was definitely the grace of God how that one room seemed to have so little damage when the rest of the house was left in ashes.”

  Jeff circled his mother in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, Ma, it was, and, no, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  “Was I asking?” Etta smiled coyly.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Saying what?” Harlon walked into the room.

  “The police are still looking for that louse of a friend,” Etta offered before Jeff could mention leaving the church. Jeff knew his mom didn’t want to let anything upset his father, and bringing up Jeff’s resignation was a surefire way to raise his dad’s blood pressure.

  “They’ll find him. You’ll see.”

  “They already have.” Pam walked into the room. “I just got off the phone with Detective Hannigan. It seems Greg thought he could easily get lost among the tourists in Tulum.”

  “Tulum?” Etta asked.

  “Mexico.” Pam dropped into a kitchen chair. “Greg got a little tipsy and admitted everything to a local…” She hesitated a moment looking at Harlon, then shrugged. “Working girl. Apparently he’d been embezzling funds from the firm for years. That’s where he’d gotten the money to buy the horses. He’d hoped a big win would put it all back. But the expenses mounted and with the costs of fighting their big case reaching crippling proportions, Greg feared Travis might have reason to look more closely at the books and why money was so tight. So, he hired that goon to kill Travis. He told the woman that he’d killed the…” She glanced at Harlon again.

  “It’s all right.” Harlon nodded. “Sometimes you have to call a spade a spade.”

  “Well, Greg killed the…spade.” She grinned feebly at Harlon. “When the creep tried to blackmail him. But Greg’s big mistake was mentioning to the woman in Mexico that he'd cashed in the two-million-dollar life insurance policy the firm had on the partners. She saw reward dollars in her head and called the authorities. The sad thing is, Greg’s first racing win was only days after Travis died. It would have set all the finances straight.”

  Shaking her head, Etta sat down beside Pam. “Are they bringing him home?”

  “Yeah. I doubt he’s stupid enough to defend himself, but according to Detective Hannigan, with the evidence they have, Clarence Darrow couldn’t get him off.”

  “Are you okay?” Jeff rested his hand gently on her shoulder.

  “You know, oddly enough, I am. I thought it would hurt more knowing the truth, but somehow, all I feel is relieved.”

  “The Good Book always explains things best.” Etta Mae smiled at Pam and patted her son on the arm. “The truth will set you free.”

  “This will be perfect.” Pam held her paint sample along the newly hung sheetrock in the kitchen. “I can’t believe how much has been done so soon. I mean, don’t things like this take months?”

  “When your landlord decides to deed you his burnt out property, and every contractor in town wants to work on rebuilding the house for a wedding gift, amazing things can happen.” Jeff kissed her cheek. “By the time we’re back from our honeymoon, it will all be done. At least enough to live here.”

  “Hey, Coach.” Joshua Meechum pranced into the empty room. “Mrs. Parker said it would be okay to come over here and find you.”

  “Yep, almost ready to go.” Jeff ruffled the ten-year-old’s scraggly blond hair. “I thought you were getting a haircut? Can’t play ball with hair in your eyes. Not to mention when it’s 110 degrees in the summer, you’re going to want it all off.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Tim Lincecum has long hair.”

  “When you can pitch ninety-eight-miles-an-hour, we’ll discuss it again.”

  Eyes down, Josh scuffed a toe along the plywood floor and nodded. The belittling gesture tore at Jeff’s heart. “Got your glove? Tryouts are in less than an hour.”

  The boy’s face lit up as any self-doubt seemed to slip away. “In my bag on the porch.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.” Jeff kissed Pam gently on the lips and mumbled, “Only six more days.”

  Pam giggled like a schoolgirl and pushed him off with her hand. “You’d better go. Don’t want to keep Coach Redding waiting.”

  She couldn’t be happier. Just six more days till their wedding. The builders had accomplished an amazing feat in only three weeks and promised most of the work would be done in three more when they returned from their honeymoon cruise. She supposed if a TV show could build a house in a week, small-town builde
rs could do it in six.

  “Talk about a cute pair.” Sandra Quinn stood at the back door.

  “Oh, hi! Yeah they are, aren’t they? I’m so glad Harlon asked Jeff to help Josh. It’s doing Jeff a world of good to be involved. I think he’s having as much fun as Josh.”

  “I heard he’s also helping Redding from the café with the boys baseball league.”

  “Hmm.” Pam slipped the paint samples into her bag and pulled out the stain chips for the cabinets. “He has more time on his hands now.”

  Sandra stepped closer, looking over Pam’s shoulder at the chips. “The town’s worried he won’t stay.”

  Pam blew out a deep breath. “So am I.”

  “Antique white.” Sandra stepped impossibly closer, grabbing Pam’s hand holding the samples. “If it were my house, I’d keep it light and bright. Jeff would like that.”

  Feeling Sandra’s breath on the back of her neck, a chill suddenly crept up Pam’s spine. Something was off. She shifted away but Sandra’s grip tightened, keeping her close.

  “This would have been so much easier, if you’d just died in the fire like you were supposed to.” Sandra pulled at Pam’s hand so the tall nurse now had a hold around Pam’s waist, pinning one arm at her side, still gripping the other so Pam couldn’t move.

  “You? You started the fire?”

  Sandra shrugged a shoulder. “It was easy. Did you know I used to date an electrician?”

  Pam had no idea what to say, what to do. Stunned didn’t begin to cover the way she felt at Sandra’s admission. Now what? Standing in an empty unfinished room left no weapons for self-defense.

  “He was looking at me. Etta Mae was looking to me. Then you came along. I wouldn’t have let scandal fall on him. I’d have taken care of him. He belongs here. In the church. With me.”

  Panic already licking at Pam’s insides now flared to the surface as the glint of a metal blade shone in her face. “If you hurt me, you can’t be with him.”

  Sandra held the blade closer to Pam’s face. “No one will ever know. I’ll be here to console Jeff in his devastation. He’ll remember who I am. We’ll be happy.”

  “What he’ll remember is seeing you come up to the house when he and Josh left.”