She shaped her trembling lips into a smile so Luc wouldn’t worry. He reached for her, then hesitated.
Aunt Bay thrust a box of tissues into Amy’s lap and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let it out, child. You’ve carried too much for too long.”
Amy sniffled and grabbed a handful of tissues for her face. “Luc, what you said means more than you can know. Thank you. And I’m sorry. About the mess. About misjudging you. And about stirring up danger for you. I didn’t know.”
Michael stepped into the room. “What’s going on?” His gaze tracked across Amy’s face to pin Luc, and his face darkened.
Aunt Bay pressed Amy’s shoulder. “Nothing you need concern yourself with just now. We’ve been having a heart-to-heart.”
They locked eyes, until Michael looked away. “I just had a call from Troy. Someone lured him out into the country about the plane crash, and ran him off the road. He’s okay, but his car’s totalled.”
Amy went cold. “He could have been killed.”
Aunt Bay turned to Luc. “The reporter.”
Luc’s face set in grim lines. “As I feared.” He looked at each one of them. “Gilles discovered the hold they have on me, and it cost his life. Please. No questions. Keep yourselves safe.”
Michael opened his mouth, but Aunt Bay cut him off. “I’ll explain later.” She turned to Luc. “Amy had a threatening phone call yesterday. Someone wants her to leave.”
Luc spread his hands. “They have an extensive network, across Canada and internationally. You can’t hide from them.”
“We’re not going to give in to threats. And after what happened to Troy, we’re not going to even think about the plane crash. Any of us.” Michael stood with his feet spread, arms folded tight across his chest. His eyes pinned Amy. “It’s too great a risk. I loved Gilles too, but we have to trust Troy to convince the authorities to do their job.”
Amy swallowed hard. “You’re leaving Troy to the wolves.”
Pain flickered in his eyes. “Journalists don’t back down. That’s his choice. Mine is to keep you safe.”
Chapter 20
Luc’s words left Amy subdued but with a warmth in her chest like a glowing coal. She wanted to sit alone and study it. Instead, she sat under Michael’s watchful eye at the kitchen table with Aunt Bay, eating soup and sandwiches.
Michael’s pen retraced the words on his weekend list, darkening the letters. “Amy, are you sure you’re up to this? You’re a great hostess, but this has been a killer week. And a spiritual rebirth can have ripple effects.”
“If I can sleep, I’ll be fine.” She rested one foot on a chair rung. “I love these events, and the social side doesn’t tire me like it does you. We have all day tomorrow for setup, and Saturday morning for the last-minute things. Plus, you can bet Emilie will show up to help.”
Michael tugged at his collar. “What am I going to do about her?”
Aunt Bay gathered their empty dishes and carried them to the sink. “Find yourself a girlfriend.”
Heaviness settled in Amy’s stomach. She forced a laugh. “Playing nursemaid has cramped your love life. But I’m better now.”
Above the hiss of water as she rinsed the dishes, Aunt Bay scolded, “Stop blaming yourself for other people’s circumstances. Luc spoke truer than he knew when he said you were a gift, child.”
Michael’s eyes tightened. “Too bad he couldn’t have remembered it on the phone the other day. Was that why he came, to apologize?”
Aunt Bay dropped back into her seat. “He saw Troy’s latest article. You heard the gist of his warning.”
“And we need to obey it. Nothing ever fazed Luc. Anything that can ruin him like this is more than I want to take on.”
Aunt Bay frowned. “Luc needs to take what little he has to the authorities. I never thought I’d see the man cave like that.”
Amy rubbed the ring of condensation her glass had left on her place mat. “Is that something we can pray for? Peace for Luc, and wisdom? Courage? If God can change my convict cousin, He should be able to get through to Luc.”
The older woman tapped her fingers on the table. “Of course we can.”
Michael held up a hand. “I’m out of the loop, here. Did they say something last night about God changing Harry Silver?”
His aunt’s lips twitched. “I did invite you.”
He took a slow breath. “So what happened?”
“They said he turned to Christ before going back to prison. There’s supposed to be an interview in the next issue of Canadian Christian. Do you know anyone who gets that?”
“I don’t think so.” Michael tipped his chair back. “Wow.”
“That’s what made me ask for myself.” Amy leaned her elbows on the table. “Ruth was sure God accepted Harry, and I thought maybe Aunt Bay was right that He’d accept me too.”
“Maybe Aunt Bay was right.” The older woman’s singsong mimic made them all laugh.
Amy slid her soup bowl to the side. “Carol and Joey must have known, when we were there. She said they’d been in touch. From what Ruth said, everyone’s been waiting for him to decide to tell his story.”
“It’ll be worth hearing.” Michael picked up his list. “I’d better get going. Speaking of stories, are you going to tell Carol and Joey yours?”
“I think they’d like that.” Amy stopped, and let out a huff worthy of Aunt Bay. “Carol knew Mom was unmarried. She was still pointing me to God. Why didn’t I put it together that she meant it wasn’t too much for Him?”
Michael’s smile was a caress. “You’ve put it together now, and I can’t wait to see what He does with you.” List in hand, he headed for the door.
Aunt Bay took Amy’s hand. “I’m glad I had the privilege to be part of your spiritual birth. One by one, the Lord is answering my prayers.”
“What’s next?”
“Keeping us safe from whoever crashed your plane. After that?” A mischievous grin stretched Aunt Bay’s face. “I’m not telling.”
“Well, I hope it’s good.” Amy pulled her hair into a ponytail with the elastic from her wrist. “I need to move, or I’ll fall asleep. Want to help me set up some of the easels and display stands for Saturday?”
“We’ll do the bigger ones, and then I’d like a lie-down, myself.”
Together they carried the collapsed stands from the basement. Nothing was terribly heavy, but the tall easels were awkward without a second person.
Amy reached the top of the stairs on their fourth trip as the phone rang. Behind her, Aunt Bay said, “We’ll drop this in the kitchen. And let me get the phone, just in case.”
Not another call like yesterday. A shiver chased down Amy’s spine. Aunt Bay stepped off the stairs and they laid their load on the floor. The older woman hurried across the room and picked up the ringing phone. She frowned at the call display and hit talk. “Stratton Gallery, good afternoon.”
Her posture relaxed, but not completely. “Just a moment.” She turned to Amy and held the phone down by her side. “Your father.”
Amy’s mouth went dry. A jolt rocked her stomach. Fear? Excitement? She licked her lips and reached for the phone. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. If her words didn’t come out any better than that, it wouldn’t be a long conversation.
Aunt Bay passed over the handset. “Just be yourself.”
Amy lifted the phone. “Hello?” She walked out of the kitchen.
A deep voice spoke. “Amy? It’s Neal Williamson. Thank you for taking my call. Do you have a few minutes?”
“I can take a break now. How was your flight?”
“Not bad. Long.”
They exchanged brittle pleasantries that made Amy cringe. Did he feel the same, dancing around what they needed to say but not knowing how to get there? Amy settled in one of the living room chairs and curled her feet up under her. The room wasn’t cold, but she drew a blanket over her knees.
Finally, she blurted, “I got your letter. I needed time to think.”
>
“That’s fair.” His question hung in the silence.
“I — I do forgive you. It was a mix-up. Gilles didn’t tell me what you’d said to him.”
“I shouldn’t have said it, no matter how surprised I was.” He recapped what he’d sent Amy about his wife, and about her mother.
Amy listened, twirling the blanket fringe in her fingers. Hearing about her mother, young, carefree and in love, brought back the happier days of her childhood. Mom had made home a safe, loving place. Even when she got sick, they’d hung out together and watched old movies. And eaten popcorn. When Mom’s body couldn’t tolerate it, she’d insisted Amy make a batch to “share” — Amy eating, and her mother enjoying the scent.
She told Neal about that, and about the good times. “Mom wouldn’t tell me anything practical about you, even your name, but she’d talk about how kind you were, and how you made her feel alive. When I was little, it helped me imagine you. Until I grew up enough to realize you were never coming back.”
Through the window, she saw a car drive past. Like her childhood dreams of her father, always passing, never stopping. Except now he’d stopped. He was near.
“Even if I’d known, I couldn’t have come back. I had to stay in one world or the other. But I wish I could have been there for you. Does that help at all?”
“Not really.” Amy scrunched the blanket in one hand. “Look, Neal… Father… I don’t even know what to call you. We can’t change what was. But what do we want now? What do you want? Should we meet, shake hands, and go back to our lives? Or should we try to build a relationship as adults?”
“Call me Neal for now. Honestly? I’d like to get to know you. I’m getting older, and I have no other children. You’re a gift.” His laugh came out harsh. “A gift I refused and have no right to claim. If you never want to see my face, or only want a one-time meeting, I’ll respect that.”
Childhood dreams tumbled through Amy’s mind, colliding with the labels she’d worn for so long. Clear as pure light flashed the sudden awareness that she was no longer fatherless — and it had nothing to do with the man on the phone. She had a new Father, who loved and accepted her.
Amy’s breath hissed inward, and her shoulders lifted. The old accusations, any new ones, none of them mattered. She belonged. And her Father might not be a spy, soldier or astronaut. But He was a King.
“Amy?” Neal sounded worried, like he expected to be turned away.
The feeling of light glowed in her now, melting the last of her tension. “Sorry. I was thinking. Are you free tomorrow? You could join us for dinner. The gallery’s in a house, and we all live here — my boss, Michael, his aunt and I. They’ve been like family to me since the crash, and they’re curious about you.”
“Nothing like a trial by fire.”
“If that’s too much, we could do something on Sunday. Saturday there’s an open house here and I’ll be busy.”
“I have meetings all day tomorrow, but I’ll cut out early. You’re what, forty minutes from the downtown core?”
“Give yourself an hour in Friday afternoon traffic.”
“Would six be okay? If I can be there earlier, I will. And, Amy? You deserve a perfect father, but I’ll be learning as I go.”
Amy had a perfect Father. Neal Williamson couldn’t match that standard, nor could she. She smoothed the blanket in her lap. “Mom did the hard parenting stage. I think we should aim to be friends.”
“I’d like that. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye.” Amy disconnected and stared out the window. That hadn’t been as rough as she’d feared. “Thank You, God. And thank You that I can talk to You.”
Her father was coming to dinner, and she didn’t have to hide the fact that they’d never met. If Aunt Bay fired off a few direct questions, Neal was a former hockey player. Hopefully he’d still have the reaction time he’d need to think on his feet.
~~~
The phone showed voice mail, but when Amy checked, both calls were hang-ups. She took the handset back to its dock and pulled the dry mop from the closet. Better to go over the floors before positioning the easels.
She’d barely started on the entryway when the phone rang again. “It figures!” She leaned the mop handle against the wall and scurried back to the kitchen.
Call display showed the number from the warning texts. Amy clutched the phone. “Hello?”
Click.
Why call the gallery land-line when the mystery person had Amy’s cell number? The cell was in Amy’s pocket, and it hadn’t buzzed. She double-checked that it was on. Should she text back?
Growling, she wedged the handset into the waistband of her pants and went back to her mop. Gilles’ unnamed friend claimed to be on her side, but that didn’t mean Amy had to play his or her mind games.
By the time she’d finished the floors and started positioning the smaller display stands, she’d taken another dead-air call from the same number.
Aunt Bay came down the stairs. “How was your conversation?”
“We found things to talk about. He said he’ll come to supper tomorrow.” Amy grinned. “You can grill him, but not too hard. We’re going to try to build a relationship.”
“I’m glad. Don’t mind Michael if he’s a bit tense.”
“What do you mean?”
Aunt Bay’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t want anything to hurt you, and none of us knows this man.”
Amy shifted the display stand to the side. “I feel okay about it. I don’t have any great hopes that we’ll become instant best buds.” She stepped nearer to Michael’s aunt. “This may not make sense, but now that I have God as my true Father, I don’t have to have any big expectations about my biological father. I hope we’ll become close, but I’m not looking for him to meet all my childhood emotional needs.”
“That sounds like a healthy—” The ringing phone cut her off.
Amy whipped it out of her waistband. Same Winnipeg number. She thrust it toward Aunt Bay. “Will you try? They hang up on me.”
“Stratton Gallery, how may I help you?” Aunt Bay huffed. “No answer.”
“That’s the number that sent the warning texts. Right now they’re just making me mad.”
Michael’s aunt carried the phone to the kitchen. “Let it ring, next time. While I’m here, let’s set up these bigger easels and get them out of the kitchen.”
The two women had everything in place when Michael arrived with shopping bags and a fistful of mail. He passed an envelope to Amy. “This one’s for you. Everything else is junk or for the gallery.”
Amy ripped open the envelope with a finger and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Unfolded, it read AMY SILVER, GO HOME. She dropped the page and turned over the envelope. Just her name and address and a postmarked stamp. “Michael?” She couldn’t keep the squeak from her voice.
He turned from his unpacking. One look at her face, and he snatched up the letter. “I suppose we’ve ruined any fingerprints.”
“What now?” Aunt Bay crossed to Amy’s side and planted a hand on her shoulder before reading the message. “You are home, child. Don’t let this change anything.”
Amy shut her eyes and leaned into Aunt Bay.
Michael’s voice came out flat. “Yesterday’s phone call started a file with the police, and this letter will add to it.”
Aunt Bay squeezed Amy’s shoulder. “Perhaps we’ll have a friendlier officer this time.”
“I hope so.” Amy picked up the page again. “In old movies, there’d be a wonky letter and the detective could trace it back to a specific typewriter. Or there’d be a unique watermark in the paper. This could have come from anyone’s printer.”
The phone shrilled again. Michael reached for it, and Amy rattled off the texter’s number. He shot her a puzzled look. “Who is it?”
“Gilles’ friend with the warning texts, but he won’t speak when we answer. We’ve both tried.”
Michael jabbed talk. “Who is this?”
&nb
sp; Rapid, indecipherable sounds. Michael’s knuckles whitened on the handset. His face paled to match them. One glance at Amy, and he left the room.
From his few, one-syllable responses, he hadn’t gone far. She couldn’t sneak past to listen on another phone.
When Michael returned, it took him three tries to line the handset up properly in the dock. He turned toward them, back pressed against the counter. His face was the colour of old wax. “I have to go out. Aunt Bay, will you follow up with the police about that letter?”
“Of course. What’s this all about?”
The shake of his head was a tired old man’s. “When I come back.” He plucked the van keys from their hook and hurried out.
From the coat closet, hangers jangled. The front door slammed.
Everything was still, as if the house itself were holding its breath. Amy remembered to breathe. “What just happened?”
Aunt Bay matched her whisper. “I don’t know. I’ll call the police about the letter. But first, we pray.”
Chapter 21
Amy locked the door behind the police officer. He’d been kinder than the first one, but he didn’t sound hopeful of finding fingerprints or being able to identify them if they were present. Still, he’d listened, made notes, and taken the letter and envelope as evidence.
“Michael, where are you?” His mad dash from the house had scared Amy far more than the letter. What had Gilles’ friend said on the phone?
Despite the warmth of the room, Amy shivered. She’d never seen Michael that off-balance. Nor had Aunt Bay, from the woman’s urgent prayer when he left.
She wandered into the kitchen. Aunt Bay was pulling leftovers from the fridge. Amy’s stomach quaked. “I can’t eat, not while Michael’s out there somewhere.”
Aunt Bay shot her a sharp look. “He’s not lost in the woods. He went to meet someone who’s been trying to help you.”
“Someone anonymous who claims to be helping. Michael’s so protective that sometimes he doesn’t think straight. What if it’s a trap?”
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