Secret Sisters

by Tristi Pinkston

  Hannah shuddered. “I never should have sent you to the store. I should have gone myself on the way back from the meeting. That way, the children would have been safe at home.”

  “You don’t blame me for this, do you?” Ned turned to her, his eyes filled with anguish. “I was careful, Hannah. I swear it.”

  “No, I don’t blame you. It’s just—children and parking lots don’t mix. That’s why I like to shop without them. It’s so much safer.”

  “It’s impossible to keep children safe every minute of every day,” Ida Mae pointed out. “If it’s not a car, it’s a hot stove or a bottle of medicine or a sharp corner or a kitchen knife. They will find something to hurt themselves on no matter what we do.”

  “I should have put Joey in the cart too,” Ned said, apparently not hearing what Ida Mae was trying to explain. “If he’d been in the cart, this never would have happened.”

  “We don’t know that,” Ida Mae said. “What if you hadn’t been able to catch the cart, and the car hit the whole thing with both children in it?”

  Ned flinched. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to comfort me or make me feel worse, Sister Babbitt.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, Ned. I’m just pointing out that it could have been worse. The car was going slowly, so we’re only looking at a broken leg. They’re fixing it right now. There’s so much to be grateful for.” She gave Hannah’s arm a squeeze.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ned sat down finally, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just can’t stop seeing it, you know?”

  Arlette came in and pushed a bottle of orange juice into his hands. “I bet you didn’t have any breakfast.”

  “You’re right—it was crazy this morning.” He downed the juice in one long series of swigs.

  “Now, your mother has the baby?” Ida Mae asked Hannah.

  “Yes. She’ll keep Jeremiah as long as we need.”

  “All right then, you just concentrate on Joey. The doctor said the surgery should be over by two. Let’s get the both of you some food.”

  “I’ll stay here in case there’s any word,” Arlette said, sitting down and pulling out her yarn.

  With some encouragement, both Hannah and Ned ate some food from the hospital cafeteria. Ida Mae and Tansy watched carefully to make sure they got enough to keep them going.

  “Ned says you have good insurance,” Ida Mae said to Hannah. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  “I know,” Hannah said, no life in her voice. “But when does the ‘fine’ start?”

  Ida Mae pulled the girl into a hug. “I don’t know, but it has to be soon,” she said into Hannah’s hair. “All happily-ever-afters start somewhere.”

  *

  Ida Mae pulled back her sage-green comforter and crawled into bed, feeling like what’s left on the road after the snow plow goes by. Her heart ached for Hannah and Ned—the surgery was a success and Joey would be walking around again soon, but the trauma of the event would forever be burned on their brains. She couldn’t even imagine what Ned had gone through, seeing his son in that situation.

  Ren had nothing to report after his stint at the Dunns’, and Ida Mae wondered if all the really good stuff was happening late at night after they’d given up. Maybe there was a way to rig some sort of gizmo that was powerful enough to transmit from the Dunns’ all the way to her own house. She’d have to ask Ren in the morning.

  She reached out to her bedside table and picked up her daily planner. Tomorrow—what was tomorrow? Ah, Wednesday. The day had stretched on for so long, it seemed as though it ought to be Friday by now.

  It was Sister Reynolds’ birthday, and also Sister Plummer’s. She had their small gifts ready, sitting on the shelf in the hall, so that was one less thing to do. She needed to call around for the best price on inflated balloons for a Relief Society party later in the month—Hannah was going to, but she had relieved Hannah of all responsibilities for the next couple of weeks. She made a note to think about Heidi’s situation and to buy some ingredients for the Sylvesters’ dinner on Thursday. After jotting down a few more words, she closed her book and turned off the lamp, sinking into the pillow.

  Behind every task she performed were real people, real trials and feelings. Some days, she tried to depersonalize so she could move forward without getting overwhelmed, but those days never went as well as the days when she threw herself into her calling heart and soul. Yes, she got overwhelmed, but she always found the strength she needed to keep moving. The errand of angels was given to women, but the angels didn’t just turn the job over and leave. They stuck around and did whatever they could to help.

  Chapter Ten

  Janet walked in the door looking ten years younger.

  “Did you have a good time?” Ida Mae asked, glancing up from the dinner dishes she was washing.

  “I really did, Sister Babbitt. Thank you.” Janet took off her coat and slung it over the back of a kitchen chair, completely heedless of the fact that Ida Mae had just cleaned the kitchen until it shone and the coat was the start of a whole new pile of mess. Ida Mae took a deep breath. Janet was tired. The coat wasn’t important.

  “How were the children?”

  “Oh, we had a wonderful time. We played games, and they went to bed pretty easily.” She hadn’t repeated her mistake of getting down on the floor. She doubted her body would ever touch a floor again, unless she passed out and fell on it, which wasn’t entirely out of the question given how tired she was. “They are a frisky bunch, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are. But every one of them is as good as gold.”

  Ida Mae dried her hands on a dish towel, then carefully hung it on the oven door. “I put the leftovers in the fridge, and Sister Sylvester’s book stack has been replenished. I even had Ren bring her some new movies to watch.”

  “Thank you so much, Sister Babbitt. I don’t know what we’d do without the Relief Society.”

  Ida Mae didn’t know either—but of one thing she was sure. If it wasn’t for the Relief Society, she wouldn’t be facing a possible jail term. Well, she couldn’t blame the Relief Society for that—she blamed Ren. She said good night, stuck her head in to tell Sister Sylvester goodbye, then went to meet that young man out by the Dunns’ house.

  *

  “So, I was thinking, is there any kind of alarm or something you could rig to warn us when someone is approaching the house?”

  Ren looked at her with new respect. “You’ve been giving this some thought, Auntie.”

  “Well, I had a lot of time to think while I was waiting for Ethan Sylvester to let go of his sister’s hair.”

  “Did you tickle him in the armpits?”

  “I did. That child has a will of iron.”

  “Let me think on it for a little while. We don’t want something that would go off every single time someone went near the house—we’d be picking up any stray cat or door-to-door salesman.”

  “What about another camera? A stronger one, posted outside.”

  He stroked the faint stubble that grew along his jawline. He’d been working on it for several days and it hadn’t changed a bit. She hated to tell him, but she sensed he already knew. He’d checked it out five times in the rearview mirror already and they’d only been parked an hour.

  “I’ll think on that. It would have to be a lot stronger, you know, and . . .”

  His voice trailed off, and she could almost hear the gears in his head turning. He was a smart boy—she had no doubt he’d have a new invention to show her within the next day or two.

  Headlights appeared on the road behind them and they tensed as a black Jaguar passed, then slowed to turn into the Dunns’ driveway.

  “This is our chance,” Ren said, opening his door.

  “Chance to do what?”

  “To really spy.”

  What had they been doing up until that point? Ida Mae nearly asked the question, but Ren was already creeping through the woods, and she didn’t want to be left behind. She
got out too, closing her door softly, as he had done, and caught up to him.

  They edged through the trees until they came to the clearing where the shed stood. Sure enough, the black car was parked there, the driver waiting, still inside. He struck a match and lit up a cigarette, flicking the match out his window. Ida Mae could see the glow of the match as it hit the ground, then snuffed out.

  “Well, of all the—” she began, but Ren shushed her.

  “He could have started a forest fire!” she protested. “These trees aren’t fake, you know.”

  “You want him to hear you?” he hissed in her ear, and she shushed.

  A few minutes later, Nick came out of the house and crossed the hundred yards to the shed. Ren and Ida Mae moved farther back into the shadows. Her heart was beating so fast, it almost hurt.

  “I’ve got to be quick,” Nick said. “My wife thinks I just came out to grab the mail.”

  “And so you did.” The man inside the car handed him an envelope. “Same as before, but with a little extra for good behavior.”

  Nick took the envelope and turned it over in his hands. “Don’t you think you could tell me what’s going on now?”

  “The less you know, the better,” the driver said. “Trust me. Go back inside.”

  Nick turned and walked toward the house, pausing at the front to collect the real mail. Ren and Ida Mae stayed hidden until the car was long gone, just in case.

  Once back in Ren’s car, Ida Mae took a deep breath. “That was something else,” she said. “I thought for sure one of them was going to see us.”

  “It’s pitch black out here,” Ren said. “They couldn’t see a thing.”

  She rummaged through the sack at their feet and pulled out an A&W. She felt a little better after taking a long gulp, although she was sure the carbonation wasn’t doing a thing for her. Arlette would have something to say about it, but Arlette wasn’t there.

  “Let’s keep a chart of when the man in the black car comes,” she suggested. “Maybe there’s a pattern.”

  “Good idea,” Ren said. “Why don’t you write down what we know so far, and I’ll get to work on that long-range camera.”

  Before leaving, they watched the kitchen camera and listened to the bug to see if everything was all right. Nick didn’t mention anything to his wife about the envelope.

  “He said he doesn’t know what’s going on,” Ida Mae said as they pulled into their own driveway. “That makes me feel a little better. Maybe he’s innocent.”

  “He’s not totally innocent,” Ren said. “Even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s up, he’s got to know that something is going on. He’s an accomplice either way.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I just hate to think what will happen when all this comes out. Poor Mary. Poor children.”

  “There’s still a chance that this is all just a big misunderstanding,” Ren said.

  “Not likely. The man in the car reminded me of the Godfather.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He just did.”

  Ida Mae pondered that question as she fell asleep that night. Just what was it about that man that reminded her of a mobster? She hit on the answer right before she fell asleep. The arm that held out the envelope was encased in a dark suit. That’s what it was. Now, she realized it wasn’t a crime to wear a suit, but late on a Thursday night? To a meeting in the woods? That was a little odd indeed. And sort of cliché, now that she thought about it. A villain in a dark car and a dark suit and a cigarette—surely he could have shown a little more imagination.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m sorry for the mess,” Hannah said, pushing a laundry basket to the side with her foot. Her baby sat on her hip, a chubby fist grasping Hannah’s hair with a death grip.

  “You’re not to worry,” Ida Mae said, scooting a toy off the couch and taking a seat. “I’ve seen worse than this in my own house.”

  “Not since your children grew up, I bet.” Hannah put the baby in the playpen and sat across from Ida Mae, tucking her newly freed hair behind her ear.

  “It has been a little while, that’s for sure.” Ida Mae glanced around. Hannah’s house was always clean—she knew the girl worked hard on that, but it was also always slightly cluttered, a state she knew caused Hannah untold grief. A sprinkling of Cheerios on the end table was nothing to have a canary about.

  “Now, I’ve come to talk with you about a few things,” Ida Mae said.

  “I’m sorry about having to take a break from my calling,” Hannah said, leaping in. “I’ll be back on top of things before you know it.”

  Ida Mae held up a hand. “You’re not even to worry about that. How is Joey?”

  “A little sleepy from the pain medication. He’s napping right now, but the doctor thinks he’ll make a full recovery, and soon. Children his age heal quickly.”

  “It’s a good thing they do, with all the trouble they get into.” She shifted a little on the couch. “I think I may have an answer to your rental problem.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do. But it’s a little bit unconventional.”

  Hannah cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “Rose Hunter was released from the hospital the other day. You know she’s been living with Reed and Heidi, but she feels like a burden, and she really can’t live on her own anymore. Heidi is going through a rough time—Tommy was just diagnosed as being deaf, and she’s a wreck trying to keep up with everything.”

  “Oh, no,” Hannah said. “That’s so sad.”

  “I have a proposition. How much is the rent for your basement apartment?”

  “Five hundred a month.”

  “Well, I’ve been talking to Reed, and he’s willing to pay you seven hundred and fifty dollars if you would rent the apartment to his mother and make sure she gets her medicine every day. She also needs someone to check on her three or four times daily to make sure she’s all right. He’s arranged for a nurse to come in and bathe her and prepare her lunch, and she’s signed up for Meals on Wheels for her dinner. She just likes cold cereal in the morning and can get it herself, so there won’t be any breakfast to worry about.”

  Hannah blinked. “Seven hundred and fifty just to check on Sister Hunter? That’s all I’d have to do?”

  “That’s it.”

  “But what about the children? Sometimes they’re a little noisy, and I wouldn’t want to disturb her.”

  “Rose is a good woman, and she raised a passel of her own children. I think she’ll be very agreeable.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Do you think it would work out for you? It wouldn’t take you away from the children too much?”

  “I don’t think so,” Hannah said. “But can Reed really afford it? I mean, the rent, but also the nurse and everything?”

  “Actually, a lot of it would be covered by Rose. She was left quite a wealthy widow and can afford the things she needs. Besides, a nursing home would charge at least two thousand a month, and this won’t run that high. It will be a savings.”

  “Can she get around on her own, then?”

  “She can move fairly well, and she has a walker now.” Ida Mae noticed the spots of pink that had appeared in Hannah’s cheeks, but she couldn’t tell if they were good spots or bad spots. “What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds good,” Hannah said. “Let me talk it over with Ned—he was saying that he needs to fix a few small things down there. I don’t know how long that will take, but I’ll ask him and we’ll get back to you.”

  Ida Mae nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  She took a deep breath of the crystalline air as she walked out to her car. She had a good feeling about this arrangement. Rose didn’t want to feel like a burden, and she felt even more like one since finding out about Tommy. Living in Hannah’s basement would help her feel more independent, yet if she needed anything at all, help was right there. Reed had sugge
sted an intercom system, and Ida Mae thought it was a wonderful idea. She’d mention it to Hannah after the girl had a chance to think things over.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Secret Sisters, as Tansy persisted in calling them, were gathered around Ida Mae’s kitchen table. Ida Mae had taken the responsibility of writing down everything they knew, including the dates and times they had discovered something odd at the Dunns’. She had also taken the responsibility of making a plate of brownies, and since no one objected to either action, she figured she’d done the right thing.

  “Thanks for inviting me to this meeting of the Blue-haired Ladies,” Ren said, reaching for a brownie.

  “We most certainly do not have blue hair,” Arlette objected at the same time Tansy said, “Where would we be without you, Ren?”

  “It’s just an expression,” Ren said to Arlette, wisely choosing to head off the argument before it started. “It means, ladies of slightly advanced years. It’s a compliment. It refers to your wisdom.”

  “Well, how would you like being compared to a Muppet?” Arlette shot back.

  Ida Mae held up her hands. “Let’s get back on topic,” she said. “I’m a little lost on details without Hannah, but I think I’ve remembered the big stuff. Please look my chart over and see if there are any holes, all right?” She waited as the room grew silent with reading.

  “It looks about right to me,” Tansy said at last, taking a brownie. Arlette and Ren nodded their agreement.

  “A couple of questions came to mind while I compiled this list.” Ida Mae pulled out her notebook and flipped to the page where she had written down her thoughts. “First off, just where is it that Nick does . . . whatever he’s doing? He’s not doing it at home—all we’ve seen is the drop-off of payment for the job. Where is he doing this job?”