“Daniel is dying. Please come back so he can see you before it’s too late.”
The first three words were the only words she saw, and they pulsed inside her brain with each heartbeat.
Daniel is dying. Daniel is dying. Daniel is dying.
A burning pain twisted in her heart, and she struggled to breathe.
“No. Please, no.” The words came out in a whisper. She closed her eyes—daring the words to remain on the page when she opened them again. Even though she’d decided to forget Daniel, her heart wasn’t listening. Now, the sharp pain she felt when she read those three words wouldn’t go away. It kept stabbing her heart into little pieces, leaving deep wounds that would never heal.
Now going to Texas had a whole new meaning. She needed to see him—even if it was just to say goodbye.
She looked at the letter again. Gerald was begging her to return quickly. A cold chill washed over her when she remembered the man in the alley. Those threats were real and made returning to Texas a scary thing.
What was she going to do? If she went to Texas, Sandra and Wade would be in danger. The stalker had threatened to burn the gallery. No matter how hard Wade tried to keep them safe, he couldn’t be in two places at one time, and he couldn’t keep Sandra with him the whole time Marti was gone.
One bullet was all it took, and their lives would be destroyed.
And hers.
If Sandra or Wade were killed, she would never forgive herself for caving in to the selfish desire to see Daniel one last time.
Crowds circled around her, and she realized people were staring. She gathered the gallery mail and stood up on shaky feet. The steps home were slow and deliberate. She watched the birds flitting from one power line to the next, wishing she had as few worries as they did. The Bible said God took care of the birds. She wished she could count on Him to take care of her as well. But she had learned long ago that His watchful care was selective, and she wasn’t one He favored to protect.
When Marti reached the gallery, the door opened by itself. She understood why when Sandra popped around the open door and pulled her inside.
“What in the world’s wrong with you? I’ve been watching you since you left the post office. You look whiter than the mail in your hand. Who was that man you were talking to? Is something wrong?”
Marti said nothing but handed Sandra the letter.
When Sandra was done, she looked at Marti with clouded eyes. “You have to go, love. You need to see Daniel and get this settled between the two of you before it’s too late.”
“I’m scared.”
“Hon, you need to trust the Lord for guidance.”
Marti swallowed a painful lump in her throat. “I can’t hear Him anymore, Sandra. I don’t know what He wants from me. As soon as I gave Him my life, He left me. All those horrible things happened, and He ignored me. How can I trust that He’ll lead me in the right direction now?”
Sandra pulled Marti to the loveseat situated near the front door of the gallery and sat down beside her.
“Marti, I know you feel like God pushed you out on a limb and let it fall when you stood up for Him in front of your family, and I know it’s hard to understand why He let your family turn away from you, but I know He had a reason. The Bible says ‘all things work together for good to them that love the Lord.’ The world is a beastly place, and wickedness touches our lives even if we are God’s children, but God will never . . . ever . . . abandon you. God stays the same. If we feel far from Him, it’s because we’ve moved—not Him.”
Marti’s tongue felt numb. She couldn’t say a thing. Deep down inside her heart, she knew what Sandra said was true, but once you’ve been hurt, it is almost impossible to trust again.
TWELVE
TEXAS
THE ATMOSPHERE AT THE MARVEL County Clinic in Carson, Texas, buzzed with static as Lydia Barnes, the oldest nurse in the clinic, stared up at the face of the demanding woman standing in front of her. “What do you mean you want the key to Mary’s office?”
The tall nurse, Clara Watting, stood to attention and faced the other three nurses in the small reception area like a sergeant in front of a group of boot camp trainees. Her blue nurse’s uniform was starched and perfectly pressed with creases in all the right places, and she looked down her wire-rimmed glasses at the women staring at her in awe.
The other two nurses, Cynthia Morrison and Skyler Rountree, scurried from the room and disappeared into the filing room next door—trying to get out of the line of fire. Lydia frowned at their retreating backs.
Leaning over the edge of the reception desk, Clara seemed ten feet tall. She glared at Lydia sitting in front of the computer and barked at her again. “Since the board has promoted me from temporary head nurse status to a permanent position, I mean for things to be done more efficiently around here. Now, I said it once, I’ll say it again—find the key to Mary’s office. If I’m to be in charge, I’ll need a bigger space.” Her spine stiffened, and she threw her shoulders back—showing she meant business.
Lydia discreetly waved her arm to dispel the strong whiff of powdery perfume emanating from the determined nurse.
“But, Clara—”
“Call me Nurse Watting now.”
Lydia Barnes lowered her head and rolled her eyes. Her voice was low and controlled. “Shane Duke said to leave that office locked until the board approved the change.”
“I don’t care what Shane Duke said. He declared the room off limits because it was his precious Mary’s office. It’s been a year since she died. It’s time he got over his superstition and let us alone. Now, give me the key.”
Lydia bit her lip and pulled a large ring of keys from a deep drawer in the reception desk. She found a key with “Head Office” written on the ring and separated it from the rest.
“All the patient files in Mary’s office were removed already, Clara . . . er . . . Nurse Watting, but there may be some of her personal things in the drawers that her family hasn’t picked up yet.”
“Humph. Well, it’s too late now. They’ll all go in the trash if I have my say.”
When Nurse Watting left the small reception room, Skyler, the youngest of the nurses at the clinic, stuck her head around the corner and searched to see if Clara was gone.
“Is the coast clear?” she whispered.
Lydia watched the back of Nurse Watting as she fumbled with the lock in the door at the end of the hall and pushed her way into the office. She nodded at Skyler. “She’s gone.”
Cynthia followed Skyler back into the reception area. “What’s got her nose out of joint this mornin’?”
Lydia rubbed her temple. “Beats me. Ever since the board named her head nurse, she’s been all uppity and thinks she’s better than everyone else. She’s just showin’ her real self this morning. I thought we were doing fine like we were—everyone sort of on the same level, you know?” She blew a puff of air up toward her graying hair to push the wispy bangs away from her eyes.
Cynthia laughed. “I guess the board didn’t think so. I thought maybe her hair was pulled up too tight in that bun on the top of her head, and that’s what was making her grouchy. She’s in a mood for sure this morning.”
“Well, she’d better not be throwing nothin’ of Ms. Mary’s away. If she does, she’ll have to answer to me.” Lydia sniffed and tightened her fists on the desk.
Cynthia laughed again. “Yeah right! You’ll stand up to her like you did a few minutes ago, huh?”
Lydia frowned at the young woman and turned to finish her report. She might not be much of a fighter, but she sure wasn’t going to let anything of Ms. Mary’s be thrown in the trash.
“Ms. Barnes?” A bellow came from the office down the hall, and it was followed by footsteps.
Cynthia and Skyler scattered again when they heard Clara roar.
Lydia wrinkled her nose and scowled.
Chickens.
THIRTEEN
“YIKES! LISTEN TO HER HOLLER. What’s her prob
lem, anyway?” Skyler leaned across the records desk and coveted the dangling earrings Cynthia was wearing as she bent over to straighten the shoestrings on her nursing shoes. She had to admit—jealousy was as much a part of her nature as breathing. She’d love to know where Cynthia found those three-tiered, gorgeous gold rings.
A snort burst from Cynthia’s nostrils. “You and I both know what has her nose up in the air—that promotion. She thinks she’s better than everybody else now.”
Skyler concurred. “She always did have a better-than-thou attitude, but I think being voted ‘Top Nurse of the Year’ last year added fuel to her snobbiness.”
“Hmph! If the board knew what I know, they wouldn’t have made that decision. A couple of months ago, I saw Ms. Top-Nurse-of-the-Year taking drugs from the locked medicine cabinet. Then later that day, I was grabbing more gauze from the storage room when I saw a man in a top-of-the-line suit meet her around the back of the clinic with a large yellow envelope in his hand. He handed her the envelope, and she handed him a shoe box wrapped in a shopping center bag. What do you wanna bet it wasn’t shoes, neither?”
Skyler pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket and stuck it in her mouth. “You think she was selling drugs?”
Cynthia shrugged. “Figure it out for yourself. I’m just saying that Ms. Top-Nurse-of-the-Year might not deserve to be at the top of anything.”
“Why didn’t you tell somebody what you saw?”
“And lose my job over something I couldn’t prove? No way. She’d have said she was selling him some of that perfume she peddles all the time.”
“Well, she’s helping with the orphanage fundraiser this year—she can’t be all bad. I think she’s actin’ this way ‘cause of the head nurse position. She’ll probably settle down.”
Cynthia shrugged and sat down in the filing cabinet chair. “I hope so. Are you gonna do a painting of one of the houses on tour this year for the fundraiser?”
Skyler paused to blow a bubble and pop it with her teeth. “You mean the plein air competition? Wow, I don’t know. Last year my painting sat there forever before someone finally made the first bid. Then it sold for a piddly ten dollars. Of all the paintings in the auction, it brought the least amount of money. It was kind of embarrassing when one painting sold for over six hundred dollars.”
“Yeah, I know. Mine sold for only fifty dollars. Even the small amounts add up though. I’m sure they appreciated the effort. I’m really not very good at painting, but I wanted to help the orphanage.”
“I know. Wasn’t that trip we took to Tennessee last year fun? All those sweet kids.” Skyler’s gaze strayed to the window and a far-away look filled her eyes. “Jaydn Holbrook and his wife Alana are an amazing couple. You can tell the kids love them to death. Can you believe they have over five hundred orphans living all under one roof?”
“You’re kidding! I had no idea there were so many.”
“That’s what Alana told me last year at the auction.”
“I guess I’ll try another painting this year, but I sure wish we had a real artist to encourage participation from some of the other towns around this area. Our amateur paintings aren’t going to bring a whole lot. It’s a shame we’re lacking in talent here in Carson. The cause is such a good one.”
“Yeah, I hate it for the orphanage. I’m sure it takes lots of money to feed and clothe all those kids.” Skyler placed the last file in the metal cabinet. “I’ve run out of records to file, so I guess I’ll head back.”
Cynthia grabbed Skyler’s arm before she could head out the door. “Wait a minute! Have you forgotten Ms. I-want-things-done-my-way is still out there?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” She peeked around the doorway, and shrugged when she saw Clara still at the front desk. They both went back to straightening the files until the alarm alerted them to an ambulance backing up to the emergency door of the clinic. Time to get back to work.
FOURTEEN
IT TOOK CLARA WATTING ALL day to get everything cleaned out of filing cabinets, the tiny closet in the office, and three of the desk drawers. When she pulled out the top middle drawer of the desk, she found it was full of pens, paper clips, notepads, and staples. A picture of Mary and her daughter was pushed up into the back corner of the drawer inside a small picture frame. Clara pulled it out and looked at the smiling face of her former boss.
Mary was standing beside Veronica in front of a six-star cruise line ship. Their luggage was spread around them, and they both looked extremely happy.
Clara felt a pinprick of jealously stab her heart. It was easy to be happy when you had money. If she had the money to take her own daughter on a cruise—maybe Tara would start speaking to her again.
Clara shrugged and laid the picture on the desk.
She emptied most of the contents of the top drawer into a box and pulled out the drawer to dump the dust and scrap pieces of eraser into the trash. As she turned the drawer upside down over the trash, a tiny corner of paper stuck out from under the drawer. Carefully, she laid the drawer on its top and pulled on the sheet of paper. The tape that held it firm was old and gave way easily. When she unfolded the piece of paper, she glanced at the title—trying to make sense of the contents.
She tilted her head to one side and rubbed her forehead. She walked to the other side of the room and then returned, still staring at the paper in her hand. What did it mean?
An idea occurred to her, so she left the large office and entered the room where the archived files were stored. A thorough search produced exactly what she was looking for. She carried the papers back to the desk in her new office and sat down, trying to make sense of the two identical pieces of paper . . . what it could mean . . . what it would mean to her future, if she had anything to say about it. A slow smile crossed her weathered lips, and she stood—pushing up her sleeves with precise movements.
She picked up the papers and slipped into the storage room. A peek around the corner told her what she wanted to know—the others were busy with new patients trickling into the clinic. Carefully, she placed the papers on the copy machine, one at a time, and pressed the start button.
Scared the others would hear the whir of the motor as it scanned the documents and prepared to print, she closed the door quietly, lifting the door slightly to keep the hinges from squeaking. When the copies were made, she pulled the papers from the machine and slipped back into her office.
The original documents fit into a pocket of her briefcase, and she placed the copies in an envelope and slid it into her bag. Then she picked up the phone and paused—the picture of her old boss stared up at her from the desk. Mary always did everything by the book and never thought about doing anything dishonest. Was what she was thinking about doing dishonest? Maybe so, but it wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it? She straightened her back and dialed the number on the phone. She was not Mary, and she needed the money.
When the call was picked up, she spoke softly.
“I need to see you, sir. No, it cannot wait. I have something you need to see, and I think you’ll be sorry if you don’t agree to meet me. Yes, I can meet you in thirty minutes at the town park.”
Clara hung up the phone and smiled. If this meant what she thought it meant, it was a windfall for her. Now, maybe things would finally go her way.
FIFTEEN
MARTI WAS TERRIFIED. SHE GLANCED at the navy blue truck in her rearview mirror. It had been following her for miles, and now she wondered if she had reason to worry. She was sure leaving Tennessee would not go unnoticed by the person stalking her, but Sandra had insisted she make the trip and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“You can follow me when I leave to meet Vivian, and if your stalker’s around, he’ll think you’re going to the art sale with me. Then when we get to my sister’s house in Vick, you can keep on going. I mean, it’s on the way, isn’t it? And only about five hours from my sister’s house. You can go see Daniel, have your conversation, and be back before this beastly bloke even knows you’
re gone.”
The simple decision to drive to Texas in a day had turned into a scary dream. Now someone was following her, and her fear ballooned into something monstrous, making it hard to breathe. Was it her stalker or just some stranger—glad to have company on the lonely road?
She swerved right onto the next gravel road, and the truck kept on going. A sigh of relief relieved the tense silence in her car. To be safe, she took the next two left turns, and after driving for a couple of miles, jerked her car into a small rundown restaurant nestled in the middle of a huge stand of tall Texas pines. She sat staring down the smoky road she had come from. When nothing stirred up the dust on the lonesome road, she took a shaky breath and pulled out her cell phone.
The drumming of the rings wore on Marti’s nerves until Sandra finally picked up the phone.
“Sandra? Are you all right?”
Marti heard a heavy sigh. “Marti, this is the third time you’ve called me today. Will you stop worrying? I’m fine. I’m here with my sister at the art show. So stop worrying. Wade’s keeping an eye on the gallery in Landeville, and everything’s fine.”
Marti slumped in the seat. Her face relaxed.
“I’m sorry. I thought someone was following me, and I guess I’m a little paranoid.”
“I know you gave up on God, Marti, but if you’d turn to Him—”
“Stop, Sandra! We’ve had this discussion before. I’m not ready to trust Him again.”
“All right, Marti. But, try okay? He really is there for you.”
Marti ground her teeth. “I have to go. I’ll call you when I get there. Be safe.”
Marti hung up the phone. Sandra was never going to give up. Hashtag: tenacious.
She glanced around the parking lot. Only four cars sat in the small lot of the restaurant, and everything was quiet. She grabbed her purse and hurried inside the restaurant, keeping her eyes on the road.
She would get something to eat, and maybe by the time she left, the blue truck would be miles away. Shakily, she sat down and ordered a hamburger and fries. When the meal arrived, it tasted like sawdust. The french fries stuck in her throat, and she didn’t even attempt to force the rest of the burger down. She asked for a to-go box before heading to the check-out counter to pay for the food.
A Memory Worth Dying For Page 6