The sisters wolfed down their dinners and then stopped by Barnes & Noble so Ashley could purchase a book on pre-pregnancy health routines. By the time they returned to the car an hour later, Cooper carried a small bag containing a historical fiction novel set in medieval Scotland while her sister had an entire shopping bag filled with reference books on conception.
Ashley showed two of the larger tomes to her sister. “Aren’t these babies adorable?” She pointed to the smiling, fat-cheeked infants gazing from the glossy covers of Getting Pregnant: What You Need to Know Right Now and From Conception to Birth: Life Unfolds.
“Don’t you know how conception works by now?” Cooper teased as Ashley loaded her bag into the trunk.
Slamming the trunk closed, Ashley snapped, “I’ve had more practice than you, that’s for darned sure.” Cooper was surprised by the vehemence in her sister’s tone, but Ashley’s voice softened slightly as she changed the subject. “So what is your story with Nathan? I thought you were going to, like, become a couple. Have you gone out again since that night you made out on his porch swing?”
“No,” Cooper admitted, “But we’re talking on the phone a lot more.”
Ashley sniggered. “Phone sex, huh?”
Cooper’s neck turned pink. “Lord, no!”
Gunning the Lexus’s engine, Ashley nearly backed into a knot of teenagers meandering toward the sidewalk. They made faces and a few rude hand gestures at her, but she didn’t even notice.
“You’d better start thinking about sex,” Ashley stated as she tied on her houndstooth silk scarf. Even when the traffic light turned green, she continued to fiddle with the fabric until it looked exactly how she wanted it to. “For example!” she yelled over the wind noise. “Have you bought any lingerie? You can’t have Nathan take all your clothes off only to find you’re wearing some ratty old bra and white cotton underpants that go two inches above your belly button.”
Cooper pretended to feign interest in the scenery.
“I knew it!” Ashley hollered triumphantly. “I probably just described what you’ve got on this very instant! You’d better hit the stores, Coop. You want a boyfriend? Dress the part. And I mean right down to a pair of silky black panties and a black bra with some white or red lace on it. Do you want to ruin the big moment by looking like an old lady?”
“I can’t believe it,” Cooper muttered, thinking back to the Victoria’s Secret catalog stuffed to the bottom of her workbag. “My baby sister and my grandmother are both trying to embarrass me into dressing like a hooker.”
But that night, Cooper resolved to at least examine the lingerie for sale in the catalog. In the five years she’d lived with her last boyfriend, she’d worn pajamas to bed every night, so her experience with sexy lingerie was limited. Still, she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared in case her next date with Nathan progressed beyond feverish kissing. Flipping through Victoria’s Secret, Cooper picked out a few pastel ensembles with a more feminine cut than anything she’d ever had in her underwear drawer. She spent the rest of the evening fantasizing about Nathan slowly peeling her clothes off, his eyes widening in surprise and pleasure as he saw the matching bra and panties revealed beneath her simple skirt and blouse.
“I’ll take that Boy Scout motto to heart,” she whispered as she circled her choices in the catalog. “Be prepared.”
The following Saturday at Door-2-Door, Cooper had just finished loading the last of Route 10’s pair of coolers when Lali entered the kitchen and informed the busy group of men and women that they had an extra volunteer on hand that morning.
“And because of that, I was wondering if anyone might be willing to stuff envelopes in lieu of delivering food to our clients?” She gave Campbell a look of appeal. “If that’s all right with you, that is.”
“Of course.” Campbell beamed at her and Cooper was reminded of the looks Jake gave Savannah from time to time.
Cooper’s arm shot into the air. “I’ll do it,” she said eagerly.
“Great. Let me just check on something in the fridge first,” Lali said and wandered off.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” Penny asked Cooper for the second time as they loaded coolers and three weekend food boxes into Penny’s Buick.
“I’m sure,” Cooper answered. “I might go with Nathan when he drives a route on his own next week. People usually deliver in pairs, right?”
Penny nodded. “It gives one person the chance to talk to the client while the other unloads or prepares the food. We don’t have much time at each stop because folks at the end of the route are hungry and waiting for their meals, so it’s nice for one of us to focus on the client’s general well-being while our delivery partner takes care of business.” She pointed to the names on her delivery list. “Sometimes the food is secondary to the socializing. Our clients wait anxiously for us to arrive every day. Some of them are right there at the window when we pull up.”
Thinking about the thefts that had occurred over the summer, Cooper said, “Does every volunteer always drive the same route?”
“No. We drive a route until we get to know the folks well enough and then switch. That way, our clients get to be friends with lots of people and don’t get too . . . attached. You see, we only have a little bit of time to spend with each client and if they’re real familiar with one of us, they’ll want us to visit, to do lots of little chores, and things like that. Problem is, we’ve gotta keep a tight schedule so everybody gets fed.”
“I guess that’s the most important job,” Cooper remarked.
Penny smiled. “I know just about all the clients on the Saturday routes by now because I come every week. Of course, they change, too. Some pass away, some go into nursing homes, and some are lucky enough to move in with family members.”
“It must be hard to get close to people and then have them up and disappear from your life,” Cooper remarked sadly. “I think that’s why I’d rather not go on the routes.”
Penny’s pale blue eyes were sympathetic. “We can only do what we can while we can. It’s enough to bring them food and company for a little while. It’s a gift for them, but for all of us, too.” She put her hand on the door handle. “But if you want to stick with a route that seems unchanging, then you should drive number nine. Those twelve souls have been there for a year.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Unlike Route Six. Three people died over the summer. We all knew them and it was pretty difficult to lose several of our friends so close together.”
“That must have been awful!” Cooper edged the cart away from the car as Penny attached a magnetic Door-2-Door Dinners sign emblazed with the logo and contact information for Tyler Fine Properties.
“It’s just life, dear,” Penny responded and waved goodbye.
Cooper watched the old car chug off and then wheeled the cart back up the ramp. Looking around for Nathan, she saw him talking with Lali and couldn’t help experiencing a prick of envy as she observed the other woman’s graceful mannerisms. Every movement of Lali’s feminine body seemed to carry a calm fluidity, as though she moved in time to a languid song. Her lustrous hair, curvy form, and lovely face could captivate any man, but it was the serenity one felt in her presence that was the strongest draw. Even Cooper was pleased to have been chosen to help her with such a mundane task as envelope stuffing.
“Drive safely,” Lali told Nathan as Cooper drew alongside the pair. He thanked her politely and then issued an exaggerated wink at Cooper in passing.
Once all the drivers had departed on their routes, Lali led Cooper back to a warren of cubicles. Every desk was stacked with piles of paperwork and oversized calendars filled with appointments. Myriads of colored Post-it notes covered each wall. Photos of loved ones, movie ticket stubs, handwritten letters, and children’s drawings were fastened by thumbtacks to the surface of each desk’s bulletin board not already papered by phone lists, Excel spreadsheets, and typed memos.
“I don’t know if we have a cleared space to work in
this whole building!” Lali laughed melodiously. “I suppose I could move my broken printer off my desk and let you work there.” She sighed. “That printer has bested me. I thought that if I took a good look inside I could figure out why it kept jamming. Now it’s totally useless, just like I am when it comes to technical repairs.”
“I could take a look at it for you,” Cooper offered. “It’s what I do for a living—fix office machines.”
“That would be such a better use of your time than filling envelopes,” Lali answered happily. “It’s one of our laser printers and we’re really hurting without it. We use every piece of equipment for all it’s worth.” She directed Cooper to a set of larger cubicles toward the back of the room. The desks were all unoccupied except for one. Hunched over a list of figures, a plump Hispanic woman was clearly deep in concentration despite the fact that her right hand was flying over the keys of an adding machine as though it were working independently of the rest of her body.
“That’s Anita,” Lali whispered. “I never talk to her when she’s in math mode.” She pointed to the next cubicle back, which shared a common wall with Anita’s. “Here’s the printer. I just shoved it to the side and have been trying to work around it all week.”
“I’ve got a toolbox in my truck,” Cooper said, her attention fixed on the partially dissected machine. “I’ll go get it and see what I can do.”
“Thank you. We are so lucky to have you volunteering today!” Lali smiled and Cooper felt infused with warmth. “I’m going to drum up a little snack for the three of us.” Lali peered around the cubicle in order to watch Anita. “She’s going to require something to lift her spirits if she’s going over the budget. I’ll meet you back here in a bit.” Lali walked off, humming a tune that sounded exotic in its dissonance.
After collecting her toolbox, Cooper examined the HP 2100 printer. Its LED screen flashed a neon-green error code, but Cooper knew that the jam could be connected to an assortment of different parts. She checked the most obvious area—the paper roller—in hopes of finding a small scrap of paper lodged there, thus preventing any fresh sheets from feeding through smoothly. However, there were no bits or shreds hiding in the recesses of the printer.
Retrieving her screwdriver, Cooper removed the paper roller and laser-scanning device in order to peer further inside the printer. It quickly became obvious that the problem had occurred around the fuser rollers, the part of the printer that melted the toner and transferred ink to paper. Pieces of thick cardstock had become wedged at both ends of the fuser, keeping the paper from sliding over the rollers.
As Cooper carefully removed the scraps using a pair of long tweezers, the phone on Anita’s desk rang. The sound of the keys being punched stopped and Anita sighed. It sounded as though she didn’t appreciate the interruption.
“Anita Elmont speaking,” Cooper heard her say, and then, “Oh, Lord. Oh, the poor thing. How did it happen?” Her voice was heavy with worry.
Cooper dropped the last remnant of cardstock into Lali’s garbage can. She watched it flutter down into the dark receptacle like a broken butterfly falling through the night sky. The anxiety in Anita’s tone alerted Cooper that the news the woman on the other side of the cubicle was receiving was deeply troubling.
“And our volunteers found her? Oh, Lord,” she repeated with a little moan. “One of them is delivering for the first time today!” She paused, listening. “Yes, I’ll tell Lali. We’ll call the family, too. What should I say as far as how she . . . how the end came?” She grew quiet again. “Oh?” she whispered as though faintly surprised and then added, “Thank you.”
Cooper heard footsteps heading their way.
“Campbell made us pumpkin raisin bread,” Lali announced cheerfully. “It’s literally right out of the oven. Mmm. The smell makes me feel like fall is really here. Now all we need is a dish of candy corn.” She hesitated as she reached Anita’s desk. “What’s wrong?”
“Mrs. Davenport has died,” Anita answered somberly. “Brenda found her and she had the new volunteer along with her. The weatherman fellow from TV.”
Bryant! Cooper thought.
“Oh, dear.” Lali set a plate down roughly on Anita’s desk. “What happened?”
“One of the paramedics called over here on the way to the hospital—that nice young man who picked up Mr. Manningham last month.”
“But Mrs. Davenport was just fine yesterday,” Lali’s voice trembled. “How can this be? I’ve got déjà vu between now and the morning we got the call about Mr. Manning-ham! Anita, how can they both have been in perfect health one day and . . . be found dead the next?”
Anita remained silent for several moments. Cooper felt as though her heartbeat was surely loud enough for the other women to hear.
“Did the paramedic know the cause of death?” Lali asked quietly.
“Not at this point, no. But Lali, Mrs. Davenport was sitting upright in her chair.”
“Just like Mr. Manningham,” Lali breathed.
“Yeah. Just like that,” Anita said and Cooper heard her wheeled desk chair roll backward on the carpet. “Lali. I have to say this, even though I know it sounds crazy.”
Lali didn’t prompt Anita to continue.
“What if these deaths weren’t natural? Two folks dyin’ upright in their chairs. Two folks who were fine and dandy the day before?” Anita’s voice rose shrilly. “What if someone helped these two into the next world? Someone who didn’t get all they wanted from them?”
“As in our thief? You think the person that took Mr. Manningham’s coin and Mrs. Davenport’s ring crossed that final line? Are you saying that these clients were intentionally killed?” There was fear lacing each of Lali’s words.
“I’m sorry to say it, but I am.” Anita sank back into her chair, her weight causing it to creak slightly. “Lord help us, but I don’t think there are any lines left that this man or woman won’t cross. Shoot, Lali. This devil, disguised as a saint, is jumpin’ over every line I know of. I don’t know how you stop somebody so blindly determined to be evil.”
6
When Jacob had finished giving instructions to his sons, he drew his feet up into the bed, breathed his last and was gathered to his people.
Genesis 49:33 (NIV)
Bryant was unusually subdued during the social time preceding the discussion segment of the Sunrise Bible study group’s Amazing Joseph homework. Trish had asked her housekeeper to bake something for that Sunday and the aroma of the goodies she had produced filled the classroom.
“My housekeeper’s Brazilian,” Trish explained, removing layers of plastic wrap from a plate of cookies. “Barely speaks a word of English but my house is always spotless, and let me tell you, that woman can cook!” She spread her hand out over the food. “These are her coffee cookies, a bolo cake, and some fried plantains.”
“I’ll sample one of everything,” Quinton stated. “This bolo cake’s a little like my mama’s pound cake, but it’s even more moist. Now don’t any of you tell her I said that.” He speared a plantain with a plastic fork and shook it off onto his plate. “Yum. Thank you, Trish.”
“Just coffee for me,” Bryant said as he gestured at the carafe in Cooper’s hand. “Would you hit me with a shot of that, Cooper? I swear my hands have been shaking since yesterday.”
Cooper examined Bryant to determine whether he was being theatrical, but he seemed genuinely unsettled.
Bryant met her eyes. “It’s a good thing I’m not on air tonight. Seriously. Look at me. Even my George Hamilton tan has faded since I saw poor Mrs. Davenport.”
“Did she at least look peaceful?” Jake wanted to know. “I’d feel better about findin’ someone like that if I could just picture them bein’ asleep.”
“That’s the thing. Her mouth was hanging open a bit, like she was sleeping. But she was slumped sideways in her chair and she was so . . . pale. Her skin was white, her hair was white, her housedress was white. She really looked like a ghost.” Bryant took a grat
eful sip of coffee. “I always pictured older folks, like my parents, dying in their beds surrounded by family.” He stared forlornly at the Noah’s ark coffee cup Cooper held. “I believe that’s what got to me. Thinking of my own mama looking like Mrs. Davenport one day. It scared me.”
Savannah had entered the room on Nathan’s arm while Bryant was talking. She whispered something to Nathan, who placed her Bible on a desk and then led her to Bryant’s side. Savannah put a maternal arm around his waist. “Dear friend,” she said, her gentle voice filled with affection. “In Isaiah 46, God says, ‘Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.’ ” She squeezed Bryant lovingly. “The Lord came to bring Mrs. Davenport home. She may not have looked restful when you found her, but her spirit was long gone by the time you got there. Shoot, she probably looked down from heaven and felt sorry for you!” Savannah laughed, released Bryant, and reached outward with her cane.
“And she’ll be feasting with the angels instead of on Door-2-Door Dinners fare,” Quinton added as Nathan helped Savannah to her seat. “No more worrying about hunger or poverty or loneliness. All her bodily worries are over.”
“Hope there’s plenty of steak and beer at my future feast!” Jake raised his coffee mug.
Bryant grinned. “Okay, folks. I’m fine now and ready to focus on Joseph. I don’t want to take up any more time on me, but I’ve got to say that the last night of our homework bothered me a bit.”
“Are you referring to the questions on Jacob’s grief, which we read about after his sons brought him Joseph’s bloody robe?” Nathan asked, and Bryant nodded.
Savannah accepted a cookie from Trish and then gestured for everyone to take their seats. “I think that’s my cue to take over. Let’s begin our session with a prayer for Mrs. Davenport’s family and for Bryant’s quick recovery from the shock and sorrow he is experiencing over discovering her. Are there any other prayer requests?”
Path of the Wicked Page 8