Sharon’s hand closed over her heart in a spontaneous gesture of concern. “She had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. She glossed over it, saying it was part of her annual tune-up, seeing her doctor, lawyer and dentist. I wonder if she might be ill. At her age, she’s bound to be vulnerable if she gets any sort of shock.”
Ian’s great-aunt was rarely ill, and refused to stop volunteering at service clubs for more than a few days even with a bad cold. “She’d hate if we made a fuss over her.”
“I could drop a few hints about the doctor’s appointment and see if she mentions anything.” Sharon tied the robe snugly. “If there is something wrong, maybe we can help.”
“Having you and Greg here has already helped.” Ian couldn’t imagine losing his great-aunt. She’d always been the rock he depended on, at least until he met Sharon. “She’s enjoying a second childhood. Or a third, maybe.”
“I’m glad. She’s wonderful.” Sharon edged toward the door. “Ian, about what happened today. There’s a part of me that wants to throw caution aside and go for broke. But…”
When she hesitated, he finished for her. “But there’s another part of you that insists on exercising mature judgment.”
“Exactly. I think we need to slow things down.”
“To a standstill?”
“At least until after this anniversary. Hopefully things will settle down and we can get to know each other without having these… let’s call them premonitions.”
They studied each other, only a few feet apart yet already in separate worlds. “I hate being practical,” Ian said.
“Me, too.” Her gaze held his for a long moment. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, at least acknowledge that they were lovers, but she eased back. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything from Jody.”
“Thanks,” he said, and watched her go.
When he was alone, Ian returned to the canvas. Sharon’s naked figure, arms flung out and head thrown back, was dwarfed by the burning tree behind her and the cemetery hill beneath her feet, yet everything centered on her. That, he decided, was precisely as things should be.
Angry with herself, Sharon undressed in her bathroom and stepped into the shower. Making love to Ian had been foolish and risky. They hadn’t even used protection, although since she hadn’t gotten pregnant again in years of trying with Jim, she wasn’t likely to now.
She’d promised Ian to question Jody about her health, Sharon recalled as hot water sluiced down her back. She also wished she could find out whether the upcoming anniversary was troubling his great-aunt. Maybe she ought to mention her impromptu investigation, after all. It might be better to bring the subject out in the open.
I’ll talk to her tomorrow, Sharon resolved, and rubbed a dollop of shampoo into her hair.
Karly felt the tension the moment she walked into the church. This place that she had known as a quiet, mostly private environment now belonged to several dozen unfamiliar men and women.
Chairs had been moved onto the proscenium, turning the church into a theater. As Karly entered, the chorus members were taking their places. A plump woman surveyed them from her post at the piano.
This must be the choir director, Lynda Varella. She’d been out of town for a few days, and this would be the first time they met. Karly hoped that the pastor’s spontaneous decision to choose a replacement soloist hadn’t raised anyone’s hackles.
She could feel all eyes on her as she crossed to greet Mrs. Varella. Karly had worn a tailored pantsuit with a scarf-collared blouse. Everyone else was in jeans and sweatshirts.
A blonde woman in the front row pressed her lips together irritably as she observed Karly. Most likely, she’d been hoping for promotion to soloist herself.
“Hi, I’m Karly,” she told the plump woman. “Are you Mrs. Varella?”
“Call me Lynda,” said the choir director, who shook her hand with a firm grip. “Carl Arbizo praises you to the skies. I’m anxious to hear you sing.” From her cool tone, one could assume she had deliberately chosen the word “anxious,” where another person might have said “eager.”
“I hope his invitation didn’t ruffle any feathers,” Karly said. Other than Frank’s, of course. He’d come home to baby-sit, even saying he looked forward to spending time with Lisa, but he’d scowled when she served him canned soup and packaged muffins.
The other woman smiled. She had dark eyes and a brisk manner. “Oh, that comes with the territory, I suppose.”
Translation—Not everyone was happy with the pastor’s decision. Did that include the choir director, or just the blonde in the front row?
There were no empty seats on the stage, Karly noticed. She glanced at Lynda, who explained, “Since you’re not familiar with our other arrangements, I thought it would be best if you sat in the audience until your turn.”
“Of course,” Karly said. Although there was nothing wrong with being seated in the audience, she felt as if she’d been demoted. As she sat down, she caught a smirk on the blonde woman’s face.
Lynda stepped to the front and thanked everyone for coming. “We’ve got a lot to brush up on, in a short time,” she said. “I’d like to introduce you all to Karly Weeks, who’s filling in for Annie. The good news is that Annie’s father has taken a turn for the better, and she’ll be rejoining us next week.”
From Lynda’s phrasing, it sounded as if Karly were the bad news. But surely she was being hypersensitive.
“Is Mrs. Weeks going to be joining us on a regular basis?” asked the blonde woman.
“That remains to be seen,” said Lynda. “Don’t worry, Candy—no one can take your place.”
There it was, out in the open. Lynda would have promoted Candy to soloist had the pastor not intervened. Well, Karly’s position here was strictly temporary, Frank had made that clear. Candy was the least of her worries.
Lynda returned to the piano and played the opening notes of Circle of Life from The Lion King. Karly relaxed as she listened. The voices blended well, making up in feeling for what they lacked in the higher registers.
The next song was Day By Day, followed by Climb Every Mountain. In this one, Candy had been permitted a brief solo. When her turn came, the soprano stepped forward confidently and launched into the Rodgers & Hammerstein song.
Karly couldn’t help listening critically, although she tried not to be influenced by her negative impression of Candy. The woman had an adequate voice in the lower register but she struggled with transitions and the high notes came out strident. For the sake of the congregation, Karly was glad the unseen Annie would be returning. Just because a voice like Candy’s worked well in a choir didn’t make it suited to solos.
Still, Karly didn’t gloat, even to herself. Although she’d invested considerable effort in training, her voice had been a gift. She wasn’t proud of being superior to Candy. She was simply registering the fact that Pastor Arbizo knew what he was doing.
Catching Lynda’s nod, Karly strode up the steps to center stage. In this small space, no microphone was necessary, yet after years of stage work she felt naked without one.
The chorus had rehearsed an intro to I Don’t Know How to Love Him, which Karly hadn’t expected. Twice she came in at the wrong place. Behind her, Candy cleared her throat as if stifling a laugh.
Karly shrugged off the pettiness. She’d come here to do a job. She was a professional and she intended to behave like one.
The third time around, she didn’t hesitate. By now she knew exactly when to start. Right on cue, out rolled the heartfelt cry of Mary Magdalene as she gazed down at Jesus, for the first time doubting her own headstrong course through life. Karly felt her voice fill the church, but she was too lost in the emotions to register anyone’s reaction.
She let the last note linger, breaking off just as the piano accompaniment ended. There was a moment of utter silence, followed by furious applause from behind her. At the piano, Lynda Varella was clapping, too.
Karly turned with a reticent smile, giving the chorus
members a nod of thanks. Even Candy was cheering her on, resentment forgotten.
That was one thing Karly understood from her own experience—when she heard a musician or singer perform in a way that brought tears to her eyes, she could forgive almost anything.
The highest honor came when one of the men darted behind a curtain and returned with a folding chair. He set it up for Karly at the side of the stage, so she wouldn’t have to go back down the steps to wait for her second solo.
She’d been accepted into the group.
Karly went home that night with the eager voices of new friends echoing in her ears. They had appreciated Close Every Door as much as the first solo, and had encouraged her to join the choir on a regular basis.
Candy had volunteered that she, too, had a baby, and suggested they get together one afternoon. Karly was happy to agree.
The sense of exhilaration faded as she drove through the crisp winter night. Something about that church troubled her, as if old sorrows lay beneath its boards. She just hoped the concert went smoothly.
When Sharon came downstairs Friday at midmorning looking for Greg, she found Jody having coffee in the kitchen. The older woman looked rested and her beige hair was freshly puffed as if she’d been to the beauty shop, which perhaps she had.
“Please join me,” Jody said. “Don’t worry about your son. He’s tackling the fifth level of Laser Space Attack. I doubt he’ll come up for air for another hour.”
“Thank you.” Sharon poured a cup of fresh-brewed coffee into a mug bearing a reproduction of an orange crate
“I understand he had a good time yesterday afternoon with your sister. I’ve been hearing all about his new friend.”
Sharon took a chair across from her. “How did things go for you? You mentioned a checkup.”
Her landlady shrugged. “When you get to my age, it’s a wonder the system functions at all.”
“Ian was worried,” Sharon admitted. “He loves you very much.”
A glitter came into the older woman’s eye. Clearly her great-nephew’s concern touched her. “Oh, there’s a bit of this and that. Cholesterol and blood pressure are high, but whose aren’t? The bones are strong, and all the lumps seem to minding their own business.”
Jody’s humorous way of dismissing what might be a serious problem reminded Sharon of Grayson. She decided to lay the rest of her cards on the table. “I met someone you used to know. Grayson Wright.”
The landlady’s manner became watchful. “Oh? How did this come about?”
“Ian told you about discovering Bradley’s grave. Apparently the minister decided he should inform Mr. Wright, and he also mentioned how much I resemble Susan. He called and I agreed to pay him a visit. He seems like a courtly gentleman.”
Jody stared at her without responding. Sharon wondered if she’d overstepped the bounds of politeness.
The older woman spoke at last. “I try not to dwell on those times, but I must admit that since you came here, I’ve been thinking a lot about my sister. The day after tomorrow’s the anniversary of her death, you know. Sixty-five years. You’d think the emotions would fade, but they don’t.”
Long, slightly crooked fingers stroked the coffee mug. Despite the brown spots and blue veins, Jody’s hands retained a sturdy squareness. That made their agitation all the more pronounced.
“I didn’t mean to stir things up,” Sharon said. “Before I came here, I had no idea I resembled your sister or even that you had one.”
“She was younger than you are now,” Jody said. “Not so well educated, either. But there’s a thread that runs true.”
“I guess that’s why I’m so interested in her.”
“If there’s anything you want to know about Susan, go ahead and ask me,” Jody said. “I don’t believe in beating about the bush.”
Despite the way television reporters intruded into people’s lives as if private pain existed primarily to entertain the masses, Sharon respected the old-fashioned grace of drawn curtains. But Jody had offered. “Mr. Wright said you were the one who found the bodies. I can’t help worrying about how that experience must have affected you. And then losing Ian’s father, too. Doesn’t it overwhelm you sometimes?”
“If you think this anniversary is going to send me screaming in the Santa Ana River, you can forget that nonsense,” Jody replied without a flicker of hesitation. “In my day, no one whined about being a victim. You simply carried on.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t suffer,” Sharon pointed out.
“Thank you for your concern,” Jody said. “Let me tell you how it was and you’ll understand. You’re part of the family now, after all.”
She paused, staring out the window at nothing in particular. Sharon waited, almost afraid to sip her coffee for fear of breaking the spell.
“That night after church, my family planned to visit friends,” Jody said. “I had a cold and wasn’t in the mood to socialize. I excused myself and got a ride back with some neighbors.”
When she first arrived, she said, she didn’t realize anything was amiss. Calling upstairs and hearing no response, Jody believed her sister and the baby must be asleep.
“You didn’t know Bradley was coming?”
“Certainly not!” The old woman regarded her sharply. “I didn’t trust that man. I would never have allowed him here.”
Well, that killed one theory. “So you didn’t go upstairs?”
“Not right away,” Jody said. “I felt miserable, so I fixed myself a cup of hot tea. Of course, I didn’t want little Martin to catch my cold either. Not until I went upstairs for bed a few minutes later did I notice something was wrong.”
“What?” Sharon asked.
“Since she had the baby, my parents had let Susan move down into her old room. The door was open and there was no sign of her. The attic door was open too. I couldn’t imagine why she’d have gone up there. I still don’t know. Maybe Bradley forced her up there to look at the painting he’d made of the two of them. He could be cruel. Well, that’s obvious, I guess.”
There must have been long shadows in the hall and the swish of rain against the windows, Sharon thought. Climbing those stairs in the gloom had taken courage.
“The worst was the blood. That’s what I saw first, Susan’s blood everywhere, and I smelled it too,” Jody said. “Later, I started to wonder if she might have been alive when I got home. Maybe if I’d gone straight up, I would have found her in time. That seems unlikely, with such grievous injuries,” Sharon pointed out.
“That’s what I tell myself, that no one could have saved her,” Jody said. “That’s how I go on.”
Hearing the simple statement of despair, Sharon suddenly understood why petty problems never bothered Jody, and why the older woman had dedicated her life to Susan’s son and grandson.
“You must hate Bradley,” Sharon said. “I’m surprised you aren’t more bitter.”
“Bitter? That would hurt me, not him.” Setting the cup aside, Jody knitted her fingers together. “I hate him most of all for dying. I hate him for not having to live with what he did, the way I’ve had to live with it for sixty-five years.”
“One thing I don’t understand,” Sharon said. “Surely Susan wanted to run away with Bradley and keep their son. I don’t see why he killed her.”
“My parents had burned his letters. She was angry with him for abandoning her,” Jody said. “And she’d developed a fondness for Grayson. In the end, she’d have chosen Bradley, but she had spirit. She’d have stood up to him when he first arrived and given him what-for.”
“You don’t think she sent for him?”
“I don’t think she knew where he was.” Her dry voice threatened to crack. The older woman took another sip of coffee before continuing. “We never did find out how he learned that she was to be married. One of his friends must have written him.”
“I’m so sorry. About everything.” Sharon almost wished she’d never brought the subject up. At least she was
reassured about Jody’s stability. Despite her obvious dismay, the woman was far from falling apart.
“I’m glad I had a chance to talk,” came the response. “Everyone tiptoes around the subject. The police were the only ones who dared to ask me about what I saw, and they didn’t ask much. The scene pretty much spoke for itself.”
Reaching for her cup, Sharon discovered it was empty. She was about to get a refill when Jody’s voice stopped her.
“I do have a request,” the landlady said. “I hope you won’t mind.”
“Just ask,” Sharon said.
“Yesterday, when I met with my lawyer, I changed my will.”
“Your will?” She couldn’t imagine what this had to do with her.
“I’ve been concerned about Ian ever since his accident, and now he’s been obsessing about the anniversary,” Jody explained “I keep worrying that he might put himself in danger, although not intentionally, of course. It’s just a mother’s fears, because I do feel like his mother.”
“Of course.”
“I told the lawyer that if anything happens to Ian, I want to leave the house to Greg,” Jody said.
“Really? I mean, are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” The old woman smiled. “After all, we are related, and I’d like it to stay in the family.”
Sharon didn’t know how to respond. Ian wasn’t in any real peril, surely. Did this mean Jody was ill? Otherwise, why would she be thinking about what might happen to the house after she died?
“The lawyer did make one suggestion,” the older woman added. “He pointed out that I have a number of cousins, rather distant ones, but more closely related than Greg. They might challenge the will—you know how people can be. He suggested it would look better if I were Greg’s godmother. Or does he already have one?”
“Not formally.” After Jim’s death, Karly had agreed that if anything happened to Sharon, she would take care of Greg. But a godmother-godson relationship was purely ceremonial these days. “I don’t see the harm.”
“Here’s the paper he drew up a paper for us both to sign.” Jody handed her two copies of a legal-looking document. “He said he’ll keep it with the will, as a form of insurance. Of course, I don’t plan to die any time soon. And I certainly hope Ian doesn’t, either.”
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