“Glenda’s nephew?”
His shoulders slumped in abject disappointment. “How on earth did you guess that?”
I explained how I had seen a boy there when we stopped at the mines.
“Curly bright red hair?”
I nodded.
“Hard to miss. Anyway, he’s back with Glenda now, over at Betty’s.” He scrunched up his face. “I don’t know how you know so much.”
“Nice work, Reverend.” I smiled at him, but when our eyes met, my cheeks started burning. How ridiculous! I’ve been eating across the table from this man for over a year now. Why was I suddenly self-conscious? What had changed?
Everything.
Hoping Aunt Martha wouldn’t notice my silly schoolgirl blush, I quickly reached over to pick up William’s napkin off the floor before Dog scooped it up. Tucking it under his chin, my concern over him grew. True, we were both weary past endurance, but it was more than that. The sadness he had shed had returned.
I knew why. Seeing his mother brought his grief right up to the surface again.
I dreaded one final thing left to do. I hadn’t told Robert about Ruth yet; I was waiting until we might have a moment alone. I thought William might bring her up at dinner, but since he hadn’t, I didn’t either. Truth to be told, I was postponing the conversation until it was inevitable.
That moment arrived too soon. A knock came at the door, and Robert answered it as I was upstairs tucking William into bed. He fell asleep quickly; I, too, couldn’t wait to get to bed.
Robert met me on the stairs as I was coming down to say goodnight. “Louisa, there’s someone here to see you.” I followed him into the parlor. “This is Agent Gullberg with the FBI. He has some news.”
“Ma’am, how are you?” The agent looked at me with concern in his eyes.
“Better now. Thank you,” I answered.
“We need to talk to you tomorrow, but tonight I just wanted you to know that we found Mueller’s house. Your directions were good, ma’am. Your paper trail tipped us off. That was right smart thinking.”
I gasped. “Did you capture Herr Mueller?”
He shook his head in disappointment. “No, I’m sorry to say we didn’t. He had cleared out a few hours earlier, and the house was near emptied. Quite a place, too. A regular Caesar’s Palace. There wasn’t a single living soul in that house. Looked like everyone scattered: servants, guards, everyone. All of the border patrols have been notified. Don’t you worry, ma’am. We’ll catch him.”
I frowned. “I don’t think he could cross on land. I think he would try to leave by ship. I thought I heard one of the servants mention the Mar de Cortes.” The Gulf of California. Then something the agent said triggered a horrible thought. “Did you say there wasn’t a single living person in the house?”
“Yes, ma’am. I did. There was just one dead body. A woman. She had been shot straight through the heart. One clean shot. We still haven’t identified her, but we’re pretty sure she’s an American. That’s the reason I came by tonight. I wondered if you might have any idea who she was.”
Instantly, I knew.
I was sure the body belonged to Ruth. She had betrayed Herr Mueller by letting us escape, He had found out and killed her for it.
I looked over at Robert. I realized the gravity of the significance that this information, once revealed, would hold for him. And the fresh pain it would bring. But I had no choice.
“Please excuse me for a moment.” I went upstairs to William’s room, tiptoed in, and listened to the steady breathing of his deep sleep. I took the picture of Ruth that was by his bedside and tiptoed back out. I went downstairs, back to the parlor. I took a deep breath, pulled the picture frame out from behind my back, and showed it to the agent. “Could this be her?”
Recognition dawned on his face. “Yes! Yes, that’s her! Who is she?”
I looked over at Robert. I felt such sorrow for him. What was his expression? Confusion? Anguish? Pain? His jaw was clenched, letting the shock sink in.
I turned to the agent. “Her name is Ruth Gordon. She used to live in Copper Springs. She had run off with Herr Mueller almost two years ago and had been living at his villa in Mexico.” I glanced at Robert. “She came to the room where Herr Mueller had kept me hostage. She said she wanted to meet me. William was hiding under the bed, but as Ruth and I talked, he poked his head out and saw her.”
I paused and flashed a worried look at Robert before continuing. All color had drained from his face. “Later that same night, she came back and helped us escape. She had a car waiting for me and handed me the keys. I am quite sure that Herr Mueller found out what she had done and killed her for it.” There. It was said. Almost all of it.
“Mind if I take this picture for now? To identify the body?” the agent asked.
I nodded.
He looked at Robert and then back at me. He lowered his voice and said, “So if her last name was Gordon, was she somehow related to the Reverend?”
“Yes. She was his wife and the mother of the little boy who was with me.”
He scratched his head. “But I thought you were his wife.”
“Well, yes, well, it’s a long story,” I answered, hoping he wouldn’t ask any more questions.
Robert just sat on the davenport, his head bowed down, chin on his chest. The only sign of the impact of what he had just heard was how he was gripped his hands tightly together, as if they kept him in one piece.
After saying goodbye to the agent, I closed the door behind him and saw Aunt Martha had been listening from the kitchen. She looked at me, shook her head in sadness and disbelief, and walked up the stairs like an old woman.
I sat down beside Robert. “I was planning to tell you about Ruth tomorrow,” I started. “I’m sorry.” I waited a moment and softly said, “Is there anything you want to know?”
Robert shook his head as if he didn’t want to hear anything more. I just sat there next to him, not saying a word.
Finally, he glanced at me sideways, his pain stark and raw, and asked in a low and gravelly voice, “is there anything more I should know?”
I told him everything. He leaned over, holding his head in his hands. I told him about the conversation Ruth and I had in my room. I felt I needed to tell him every ounce of truth, even the part I dreaded the most: As we were leaving, William had asked Ruth to come home. I told him that I asked her to return with us and that she had refused.
Then Robert stood up and glared at me, eyes blazing. “How could you even ask her that? How dare you! You had no right!”
“She saved our lives, Robert. She saved us because of William. And that choice cost her dearly. She lost her life because of helping us to escape. I’m sure of that.”
The truth was I don’t really know why I asked her to return with us. It was almost as if the Holy Spirit said it through me. Only God could be so willing to offer Ruth one more chance to make things right, one more opportunity to make a fresh start. I knew it wasn’t from me.
Abruptly, Robert walked to the door. “I need to be alone for a while.” His face held such anguish; I felt as if I had just poked a raw wound.
I watched him back the car out of the driveway and drive down the street. Then the frantic anxiety of the last few days started to seep away, leaving me with a deep physical exhaustion.
* * * *
Aunt Martha let me sleep late the next day. When I woke, I went downstairs and found a kitchen table laden with food. Cookies and pies, cakes, and jars of homemade jam and preserves.
“What’s all this?” I asked her.
“Folks have been bringing food by all morning long. They’ve been worried about you and William. About Robert, too.”
So was I. “Did he come home at all last night?” I glanced out the kitchen window to see if the Hudson was in the driveway. It wasn’t.
She shook her head. She looked terribly tired.
“Please don’t worry, Aunt Martha. He’ll be all right. He just needs a little t
ime.” I tried to sound convincing.
I looked for William but found Dog, sitting patiently, below the tree house. I even think he was worried, if dogs did worry. I climbed up into the tree house and spotted William, playing with his toy trucks. “Want to work on a lesson?” I asked him.
He shook his head.
“Want to play catch with Dog?”
Again, he shook his head. He just kept moving his toy trucks around, re-organizing them, checking over their wheels.
Oh Lord, please help this fragile home.
Dog and I walked over to the church office, but there was no sign of Robert.
After lunch, Judge Pryor stopped by the house to see me. “Well, Louisa, looks as if you and Robert stumbled onto something mighty big. This is going to put Copper Springs on the map.”
“Do you have any idea yet how much money Herr Mueller stole?” I asked.
He stalled.
“Oh no. Is it worse than we thought?”
“We’re just starting to find out,” he answered. “There are more FBI agents coming to town, all the way from Los Angeles. It looks as if he has cleaned everyone out. Looted all of our assets. Most folks don’t even know how much they’ve lost yet.”
After filling him in on Ruth’s involvement with Herr Mueller, I confided, “Robert left yesterday and hasn’t been back yet.”
“Don’t you worry, sugar. He’ll be back when he’s ready. He’s just needs to sort it all out. He knows what he has waiting for him here.”
I hoped he was right.
Agent Gullberg came back in the afternoon; we went over every detail I could remember so that he could fill out more reports. At the end of the interview, he handed me back William’s picture frame of Ruth and asked me what should be done with her body.
“Pardon? I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
“We need a place to send it for burial.”
I looked back at Aunt Martha who was listening to us from the kitchen. She shrugged, as if she didn’t know what to do, either. So I made a decision. “We should bury her here, then, in Copper Springs.”
“Fine. I’ll have someone get back in touch with you when the body is ready to be delivered. Thank you, ma’am.”
I wasn’t sure Robert would approve of that decision, but he wasn’t around when it had to be made. No matter what, that woman was William’s mother.
Aunt Martha and I tried to keep up light chitchat, talking about the different foods people had brought by. We had an early supper. William’s eyes stayed glued to his plate. It made me understand why the doctor thought he might be retarded; his sadness covered him like a blanket.
Suddenly, I realized one other place where Robert might have gone. Of course! “Aunt Martha, I know where Robert is! Do you think Rosita would let me borrow her truck?”
Her eyes grew large. That thought seemed to alarm her. “I suppose so,” she said, apprehension in her voice. I kissed William on the top of his head and ran down the street to Rosita’s house to ask her for the truck keys. She looked reluctant, mortified almost, until I explained where I was going and why.
She handed the keys to me. “Be careful, Louisa! The gears are sticky!”
I thanked her, jumped in the old Ford, and rumbled off down the street before she could change her mind. It was more than a little annoying to me that everyone considered me to be an inept driver. I had just driven, successfully, through half of Mexico. In the rearview mirror, I saw Rosita making the sign of the cross on her chest as I turned the corner and sped out of town. I knew the prayer was for her Ford.
I arrived at the yawning copper pit and found Robert’s car. I walked around the crater, searching for him. I thought there would be workers there today but it was deserted. I was starting to get worried and fought back a frightening thought. But then I saw him.
He was sitting on a ledge, head in his hands. I wondered if he had been at this pit all night and all day. He looked, to borrow one of Aunt Martha’s phrases, like something the cat dragged in. Scruffy with dark whiskers shadowing his cheeks and chin. Dark circles under distant gray eyes. Dried tear marks traced his cheeks. He wasn’t even wearing his trademark tie. And his suffering was palpable.
He didn’t look up when I reached him. I sat down beside him and quietly said, “Robert, please come home.”
He gave me a stranger’s glance. “I need to be alone,” he said, in a tone that made it clear he wished I hadn’t come after him.
I sighed. “Please don’t do this.”
He stood up and walked away from me.
I followed him, knowing he didn’t want me to. “Don’t do what you’re doing now. Shutting yourself away. It’s just like it was when I first got here, when you spent your time away from the house, and William spent his time up in the tree house, and no one in the parsonage talked to each other.”
He stopped abruptly. “You could not possibly fathom what I am experiencing.”
“Then tell me! Tell me how you feel!” I could tell by the look on his face I had pushed him too far. He was angry with me. And I was glad. At least it was some emotion. I wanted him to fume; it was better than this paralyzing sadness. “Go ahead! Get mad! Robert, you have every reason to be angry!”
It worked. The simmering volcano erupted. “Do you have any idea how it feels to know that my wife ran off with Mueller? And that she was living just a few hours away in Mexico? Or to realize what a fool I’ve been—working with Mueller on church business and banking business-while he was having an affair with my wife? You and I had lunch at his house not so long ago! Lunch!” He kicked a stone as hard as he could in complete disgust. “What’s the word for me…a first class cuckold? How do I even dare stand in a pulpit to my congregation after this?”
Now the volcano was spewing.
“Not to mention what Ruth did to William, not once when she left, but twice? He asked her to come back with him, and she, essentially, abandoned him again! I’m glad she’s dead. I really am. But I still have to keep living and try to repair the damage she’s done. Once again.”
He practically spat the words, then turned and walked away.
I trotted behind, trying to keep up with him. “Robert, there’s not a person in this town who wasn’t fooled by Herr Mueller. Everyone! He stole from and lied to the entire town.” In my mind popped the filled sacks of treasured possessions, even some beloved child’s cast off baby teeth, in the back of the truck. Probably on their way to Germany by now.
He spun on his heels to face me. “No, Louisa, not everyone! You knew right when you met him. And William knew.”
“But that’s only because I had come from a country that was filled with Herr Mueller types. And William knew because he had seen them together.” I told him about misunderstanding William’s meaning of “girl.”
I paused before saying what I had really come to the pit to say. “Robert, there is another way of looking at this.”
“And what way is that?” he said, arms crossed in defiance.
“Do you remember telling me you believed God was giving you a second chance to give yourself to Him?”
“Of course, I remember. That was just a few days ago,” he said, irritation rising in his voice.
Could it have only been a few days ago? So much had happened to us; it felt like months had passed. “You said God wanted all of you. I think you’re right, Robert. I think God is asking more of you.”
Bitterly, he answered, “then it’s more than I am able to give.”
“Wait. Listen to me for a moment. I think God gave you a gift in this encounter William and I had with Ruth. You have your answers about her. She can’t hurt you or William any more. You know why she left and with whom. And you know that nothing could change her mind; she would leave again. The choices that she made, all of them, were hers to make. And hers to die for. But now it’s over, Robert. And I truly believe God wants you to move forward with your life.”
His arms dropped to his side. He shook his head and looked
at the sky as his gray eyes filled with tears. “Was she evil like Mueller?”
I didn’t answer him right away though I had given that question some thought. Herr Mueller had sold his soul to the devil long ago. But Ruth? “I think she might have been so selfish that she couldn’t truly love anyone but herself. But whatever horrible choices she made in her life, she did help William and me to escape. She did one thing right. Try and remember that.”
He turned and kicked at the mounded earth, looking remarkably like his five-year-old son.
“There is one person who has shared your experience, Robert. William. Ruth treated him the same way she treated you. This time, share your grief with him. Heal together, not separately. William needs you in a way that only you can help him. Only you can understand how he feels.”
I stopped for a moment to let that sink in. “You’re needed at home. Your son needs you. I need you. Please come home.”
There. I was finally finished. I said everything I had come to say.
He covered his face with his hands for a moment. Then he exhaled heavily, as if the fight had finally left him. “Who’s the minister now, Louisa?” he asked, a sad sweetness in his voice. He took my hand and looked right at me with the look that I had come to expect from him. A look that I had come to want from him.
“Actually,” I said as I took his other hand, “I’m the lucky one. I got the package. You and William.” I swallowed and hastened to add, “and Aunt Martha.”
Then we walked, hand in hand, back to the automobiles. “I’ll follow you home,” he said, holding the door for me as I climbed up into Rosita’s truck.
It might have just been my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw a trace of amusement light his eyes as he watched me back Rosita’s truck up and shift from reverse to first gear, making a horrible sound as I ground the gears.
Home, I repeated to myself. I was going home.
Chapter Sixteen
The Mexican Police sent Ruth’s body back to Copper Springs for burial. We had a small service for her, just the four of us, headstone and all, and put her in her final resting place in the cemetery next to the church. It seemed a touch of irony that she had tried to get away from Copper Springs most of her life, yet here she was, back to stay.
The Copper Series Page 23