Grounds to Believe

by Shelley Bates

  “If you do find her…” Ross’s voice trailed away. What? Arrest her? Take Kailey?

  “I’ll find her, don’t worry.” Ray’s voice had lost its usual flippancy. “Even if she is a nutcase, I’ll find her.”

  Slowly, Ross hung up the phone.

  Annie was dead.

  Kailey was in the hands of a woman whose motives he was unsure of.

  And once again, he had no control over any of it.

  As he drove back to the motel, he realized he had never had any control. But there was One who did.

  When he let himself into his room, he fell to his knees by the bed, and long hours passed before he got up again.

  Chapter Nine

  It might be better to leave Ross out of it when she asked Rebecca for Friday evening off.

  “Madeleine’s having Melchizedek over tonight, and they’ve invited me along.” Julia unlocked the front door and propped it open, allowing the soft June breeze to flirt with the bookmarks on the stand next to the register. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  Rebecca pulled the blinds up, and early-morning sunshine poured into the shop. Outside, the streets were clean and quiet, with only a few working people and the perpetual crowd of cyclists lining up at the coffee bar.

  “Madeleine’s entertaining again,” Rebecca said with satisfaction. “Ryan must be recovering.” She tugged on a nine-pocket dump of paperbacks, moving it into place on the aisle.

  “Slowly. The doctors are thinking of letting him come home as soon as he gets to fifty pounds. But it isn’t really entertaining, you know. Just the Shepherd and the family.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  Julia swallowed. Uh-oh. “What did you hear?”

  “Your mother and I have known each other for thirty years, dear. We do talk.”

  Didn’t she know it. Everybody talked. It was enough to make you want to move to another state. When the Shepherd talked about the closeness of the fellowship, Julia was sure this was not what he meant.

  “I understand you’re working a mission,” Rebecca went on delicately. “With that young man who likes John Donne.”

  “Melchizedek and Owen are working the mission.” Julia concentrated on moving the display closer to the door. “I’m just the contact.”

  “He was a nice-looking young man. For a—a motorcycle enthusiast.”

  “In other words, anyone who likes poetry can’t be all bad?” Julia teased. “Even if he rides a motorcycle? And by the way, did you know Donne was a worldly preacher?”

  Rebecca’s smile faded, but her concern did not. “Yes, dear. But I sold him, didn’t I? He’s out of the shop now.” She returned to the subject at hand. “I just wouldn’t want you to become…more involved than you might intend. After all, this is his first contact with God’s Elect. There’s no guarantee he’ll accept the Word, and Julia, I wouldn’t want to see you…or anyone else…hurt.”

  “Does Mom see that happening, too?” She squared the stand with precision.

  It would never occur to Elizabeth that a daughter of hers would ever look at a man from the outside. As far as her mother was concerned, Julia was fulfilling the purpose she was put on this earth for and pointing the way for a lost sheep to find the fold. Nothing more.

  “Your mother, dear as she is to me, sees only what she wants to. She didn’t get a look at your face Sunday night. I did.” Rebecca paused, but Julia didn’t reply. “Be careful, dear. Oh my, there’s UPS.”

  She turned away and went into the back to sign for the delivery.

  The day seemed interminable. Every time a vehicle with a loud motor went past, Julia jumped and ran to the window. Each time the door opened, she popped up like a jack-in-the-box to get a look at the customer. At three Rebecca took pity on her and sent her home.

  “Good heavens, child, you’re wound up like a spring. Take a hot bath or something.”

  It didn’t help. Julia climbed out of the water after fifteen restless minutes and dried off vigorously, then wrapped the towel modestly around herself as she stood in front of her closet. Not for the first time, she regretted the hair and skin that made her look dead in black. Which was completely appropriate from a heavenly viewpoint, but her human vanity still cringed.

  At least it was slimming. Julia pulled on a summer-weight cotton, braided her hair and drove over to Madeleine’s.

  As she rounded the corner, every cell in her body went on red alert. Is he here yet? Will he come at all? Where’s the bike?

  Her anxious gaze raked the road for any evidence of a motorcycle. She pulled in behind the extra car the Blanchards kept for Melchizedek, since Shepherds didn’t own worldly possessions.

  Nothing. Not here. He hadn’t come. It’s okay. It’s only just six-thirty.

  Madeleine met her at the door. “Your friend isn’t here yet.”

  “So I see.” Julia leaned over and kissed her. Madeleine smelled of clean linen and a faint dusting of talcum powder. She stepped back and touched Julia’s sleeve.

  “This is new.”

  “Not really. I got it a couple of months ago.”

  “Why haven’t I seen it before?” Madeleine walked around her. “Never mind, I see why. Julia, it has a slit in the back.”

  “It would be hard to walk in if it didn’t.”

  “Why did you buy something you couldn’t walk in? For pity’s sake, I can see the backs of your knees—and more! I’m surprised at you. What will Melchizedek think?”

  What will Melchizedek think? What would so-and-so say? Julia sighed. There was always someone whose opinion mattered more than her choices. “I’ll try not to move much.” She changed the subject. “Lina, I’m scared. What if I mess this up?”

  Madeleine lifted her eyes as if imploring patience from the heavens. “You are the most self-centered girl. Bad enough you’re wearing a dress that draws the wrong kind of attention. Now you’re convinced that this man’s salvation all hangs on you.” With jerky movements, Madeleine tried to improve the hang of the cotton. “God is in charge here,” she said firmly. “If you behave the way you’re supposed to, His will will be done. Now, come inside. And for heaven’s sake, if you have to stand up, keep your back to a wall.”

  Ross set the kickstand down and tilted the bike onto it as he watched Julia come flying out of the house, wiping her hands with a dish towel. She held a paring knife in one hand.

  She stopped when he removed his helmet, and he could see her struggle not to stare.

  He hoped it wasn’t because of his washed-out face from lack of sleep. “How do you like it?”

  “You cut your hair,” she said, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  He ran a hand through his new crop. He hadn’t got used to it either. “I noticed the other night that all the men had short hair. I didn’t want to stand out.”

  A blush of pure pleasure rose in her cheeks. “It’s—it would be hard for you not to stand out. It’s, um—it’s very nice.” She gestured toward the doorway. “Come on in.”

  “You didn’t tell me half the congregation would be here. What’s the deal?”

  The blush faded at the irritation in his voice, and he realized he needed to get a grip. To focus on what he could control—the investigation—and not on what he couldn’t. Ray would do as good a job at locating the mystery woman as he could himself. They were partners, after all.

  “It isn’t half the congregation. Only Melchizedek and us.”

  “The what-do-you-call-it?” Focus. Oh, yeah. “Shepherd?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought it was just the family. Your sister, right?”

  Julia looked uncomfortable. Almost guilty. “I hope that’s okay.”

  Ross shrugged, hiding his emotions. This was good. He could ask a few discreet questions of the group’s leader without having to chase all over town looking for him. He followed Julia up the stairs and let her take his leather jacket away down the hall while he shook hands with the two men in the living room. Julia reap
peared at his elbow.

  “And this is my sister, Madeleine.”

  Ross looked into the eyes of the stunning brunette he’d seen at the hospital. If ever a woman was exactly his type, this was it—slender but curvy, with cheekbones to die for. The only problem was, she knew it. The attention of every man there was riveted on her, and she accepted it the way a queen does the tribute of her people: as if she were entitled to it. On the heels of this insight came the realization that Julia had disappeared. Not physically; she was still standing in the kitchen doorway. But she had diminished somehow…washed out…as if Madeleine had taken all her vitality and self-confidence and appropriated it for herself.

  His instinct was to drop Madeleine’s slender hand and drag Julia off for a ride or something to put the sparkle back into her. But that wouldn’t get him what he wanted out of this little house party. He had to concentrate on the case. Not on his informant’s feelings or his own distraction. That would only take his focus off his goal and lead to bad decisions.

  “I’m very happy to meet you, Mrs. Blanchard,” he said in the intimate voice he kept for pretty women. Julia turned away and he heard some vegetable die under a knife on the cutting board.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said. Her smile was sincere but distant. He was still an Outsider, after all. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Won’t you sit down?” Owen asked, and Ross found himself segregated into the living room while the women worked in the kitchen. Well, not all the women. A little blond girl sat tucked under Owen’s arm.

  “Hullo,” he said, tilting his head to meet her curious gaze. “I’m Ross.”

  “This is Hannah,” Owen said with a fond smile. “Shake hands with Mr. Malcolm, sweetie.”

  Her warm little fingers wrapped around a couple of his, and Ross found himself bending over like a courtier. Her eyes were huge and blue.

  Kailey had had big blue eyes, too. A ball of grief and anxiety wedged itself in his throat, and he struggled to force it down. To keep himself from breaking, right here in this pristine living room.

  “Are you the angel from hell?” she asked.

  Owen blushed and Melchizedek looked uncomfortable. Ross smiled at the child, grateful that she’d deflected everyone’s attention away from him. Little pitchers had big ears.

  “No,” he answered her solemnly. “I’m from Seattle. They don’t make many angels there. But the ones they have ride motorcycles like mine.”

  “What’s a motorcycle?”

  “I’ll show you after dinner if your mom will let me.”

  Madeleine called them to the table, saving Owen the embarrassment of explaining where his daughter got her ideas. Ross sat on Madeleine’s left, Julia on his other side, facing the Shepherd.

  “Melchizedek, will you give thanks?” Owen asked quietly, and everyone, even pint-size Hannah, bowed their heads as though a breeze had swept over them.

  “Father, we thank Thee for this table spread, and for Thy goodness to us. We thank Thee for this home that has been set aside and sanctified to Thy service. We thank Thee for seed sown in even the most unlikely ground—” Ross felt Julia flinch “—and for those who carry it. Bless this food to our bodies’ use and ourselves to Thy service. In His Name, amen.”

  During dinner the talk was general, but as they settled over dessert, a preparatory silence fell, as though everyone in the dining room knew that the preliminaries were over and the service was about to begin.

  He’d been refining his game plan with every conversation he’d had with Julia. This was the acid test. Either they’d accept him as a real convert and he could really start digging, or they wouldn’t, and he’d have to go back to Harry Everett and admit failure. Then he’d revert to plan B. Whatever that was.

  Melchizedek cleared his throat. “So, Ross, do you think you might join us this Sunday? The invitation still stands.”

  Ross lifted an interested eyebrow and let it fall. He kept his expression ingenuous and open. “I’d like to. What should I expect?”

  “The word of God,” Melchizedek assured him, “given by a true minister.”

  Ross noted how his speech patterns changed when he got down to the subject of religion. Most cults had a unique vocabulary and syntax. Maybe there were clues in their language that would help him discover what kind of ritual the words were hiding.

  “How do you define true?”

  “We try the spirits,” Owen put in. “God speaks through his chosen servant, so we know his words are true.”

  “The chosen servant being Melchizedek.” Ross glanced at him, and the other man nodded.

  “You seem to be pretty autonomous.” He scraped up the last of his carrot cake with his fork. “Not much outside contact. Any reason for that?”

  “‘Come out from among them and be ye separate,’” Melchizedek quoted. “God’s Elect have as much contact with the outside world as anyone. We are in this world but not of it.”

  “Could you be a little more specific?”

  Ross heard Julia suck in a breath. Oops, he had to watch it. The Shepherd seemed to be the ultimate authority. Question him and you question God.

  Melchizedek was speaking and he’d missed half of it. “—truth as it is in Christ. The Spirit in us makes us different. You’ve seen it in Julia. You’ve probably even seen it in the children.”

  Now they were getting somewhere.

  Hannah chose this moment to reach out and take another piece of carrot cake from the plate. Madeleine took it from her with a soft murmur of correction. With a mutinous lower lip, Hannah sat back, but where any other kid would have cried, argued or at least whined to get the second piece, she merely blinked back tears and kept her baby lips firmly closed.

  What kind of discipline did they use to silence a three-year-old? A cold finger of unease touched the newly bare nape of Ross’s neck.

  “What part do the kids play in your church?” he asked. “Do you have a Sunday school?”

  “Sunday school is a worldly invention. But yes, in God’s eyes, children are very important,” Owen replied. “We believe they belong in Gathering on Sundays right from birth, so they grow up used to being with His Elect—and used to sitting still for an hour. In fact, many of the kids play at Gathering, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  Hannah, still miffed about the cake, turned her face into her mother’s shoulder.

  “Any special parts of the service reserved for them?” Ross asked carefully.

  “Not really,” Owen said. “Ryan and Hannah—I mean, Hannah…” He cleared his throat, paused for a moment to gain control of his unstable voice, and went on. “I’m sorry, Ross. We nearly lost our son recently and I’m afraid I still get a little emotional over his empty chair, even if it’s temporary.”

  “If you’d rather not talk about it, I’ll understand.”

  Owen gripped his wife’s hand under the tablecloth as he spoke. “No, this is important. Ryan and even Hannah pass the Body of Christ to the person sitting next to them, but it will be a few years yet before they can manage His Blood.”

  Ross smiled warmly at Owen. “Will I be able to meet Ryan?”

  Madeleine swallowed and spoke directly to Ross for the first time. “He’s still in the hospital, Mr. Malcolm, but we have every hope that he’ll be able to come home soon. He needs to reach a certain weight before the specialist will release him.”

  “I’ll look forward to that.” Melchizedek and Owen exchanged a glance. He’d made the comment purposely, to imply a continuing interest. Almost a promise for the future.

  “What about you, Ross?” Melchizedek said. “What’s been your experience with God?”

  “My experience?” He couldn’t tell the truth—they would lump him in with what they called worldly churches. Time for the cover story. “Who was that guy whose wife told him to curse God, and die?”

  “That would be Job.”

  “Right. Job. That’s how it’s been for me. My wife—” Emotion welled up out of nowher
e and he gave an all-too-convincing impression of a man who was about to break down. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My wife and daughter were killed a year ago. A drunk driver.”

  Madeleine reached across the corner of the table and touched his sleeve, tears of compassion and sympathy welling in her eyes. In that moment, he knew he’d won the Elder’s wife. He dropped his gaze to her slender fingertips to hide the moisture in his own.

  “Have you been able to find forgiveness in your heart for that person, Ross?” Melchizedek asked softly.

  He took a moment to separate the story he had to deliver from the emotion behind it. “It’s easier to forgive a drunk than it is to forgive God. I got to the point where nothing was worth the effort anymore. So I hopped on the bike and hit the road, trying to find…something…and I stopped in this town for gas. Had a bite to eat. Walked into a bookshop out of sheer boredom and saw—”

  “And saw?” Madeleine said breathlessly.

  He turned and looked into Julia’s eyes. “And saw—” What was the matter with her? Her face was white and she looked like a rabbit caught in a trap. This was supposed to be his big moment—the moment where they’d usher him into the church.

  He plowed on. “A woman who personified warmth, happiness, those things that had been taken away from me that night. There was something about her that made me think maybe God could still do good work on the earth. So I stayed. And here I am.”

  Madeleine’s tears had dried and she was looking at Julia with a wrinkle between her lovely, winglike brows. Ross looked from one sister to the other. A moment ago Madeleine had been all melting sympathy. Ross had included the loss of a child on purpose—and he hadn’t had to fake it. He’d lost his daughter as irretrievably as if she really had been killed by a drunk driver, and only God knew if he’d ever see her again, despite Ray’s determination. But as soon as he’d introduced Julia into the conversation, the sympathy had evaporated. What was going on here?

  “Warmth and happiness.” Madeleine turned to her husband with a smile. “That does describe Rebecca Quinn, doesn’t it, darling?”

  “It certainly does. She’s a real mother in Israel, despite being a spinster lady. Ross, I can’t tell you how many people have come into the bookshop and been pointed to God, just like you.”