Heavenly Match

by Sharon DeVita

  Molly let herself into the empty building and quickly headed to her classroom. She swung the door open, and a sob tore at her as she remembered the day Jonathan had come to her classroom and had gotten stuck in the chair.

  Wasn’t there anywhere she could go where his memory wouldn’t haunt her?

  Molly shook the thought from her mind. She couldn’t think about that now. It was over. Now she had to get on with her life. And she had work to do.

  After donning an apron, she tore into her room, pulling down pictures and washing desks. Tackling her supply closet next, Molly pulled everything out and meticulously assembled it all in perfect order before replacing it. She counted every pair of scissors, every jar of glue, every crayon and every pencil.

  With that done, she filled a pail with hot soapy water and began the task of scrubbing her blackboards. The janitor usually took care of that, but today Molly was certain the hard work would soothe her spirit. Once the boards were done, she rolled up the oval braid rug that the children sat on for story time. She’d have it sent to the cleaners first thing on Monday.

  Satisfied with the results of her labor, Molly took off her apron and sat down at her desk. With Easter coming, the children would need a special art project to take home. She started several, discarding each one after a few moments. Nothing seemed to satisfy her.

  She emptied her desk, then rearranged it twice. She was becoming exhausted. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. At least she had gotten something accomplished. Maybe now she could sleep. It was time to go home.

  With a final satisfied look around her room, she let herself out and locked up the building. Fearing she might run into Jonathan, she took a shortcut through the park. Jonathan would be gone in a few days. The thought hammered in her brain. Maybe then her life would go back to normal. No, her mind muttered, her life would never be the same. A gentle giant had stolen her heart and broken it. Somehow she knew she’d never be the same.

  The day had grown warm, and Molly peeled off her sweater, tying it neatly around her neck. As she rounded the corner by her house, her eyes widened, and she came to an abrupt stop. What the devil was going on?

  Clarence Pritchard’s police car was in front of her house. The siren was blaring and the lights flashing. For a moment, she stared, stupefied. It was the town’s only police car. Clarence never ran the siren or used the lights except during the Fourth of July Parade. What was happening?

  A sudden thought churned her stomach, and she broke into a run, her heart pounding. Aunt Emily.

  “Clarence!” she called, bounding up to the car. “Clarence?” The car was empty, but the keys were still in the ignition. Where on earth was he?

  She tore the outside door open and bolted toward the hall stairs. “Clarence,” she screeched, “where are you?”

  “Up here, Miss Molly.” He called from the top of the stairs.

  “Clarence, what’s wrong?” she asked as she bounded up the stairs. “Why is the police car in front of the house? And why is the siren on?” She paused to catch her breath. It was then she saw him. He was sitting on the top step, watching her intently. Her heart stopped, weakening her limbs. Jonathan. She took a deep breath. With some effort, she pulled her eyes from his and turned her attention to Clarence.

  “He’s gone, Miss Molly,” Clarence whined, his eyes shining. “He’s gone.”

  “Who’s gone?” She was talking to Clarence, but her eyes slid back to Jonathan. He looked wonderful, she thought with a touch of regret.

  “Daddy. He’s gone.” Clarence’s voice broke and he hung his head.

  Molly looked from one to the other. Jonathan shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn’t know what was going on either.

  “Clarence—” Molly touched his shoulder gently “—did something happen to your father?”

  “He’s gone,” Clarence repeated dully, and Molly shook her head. That much she knew.

  “Calm down, Clarence.” She dug in her pockets and pulled out her keys. Her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t get the door open.

  “Let me do it, Molly.” Jonathan stood and calmly took the keys from her hands. His fingers brushed hers and her skin tingled. For a moment, their eyes met and that familiar feeling began to grow inside of her. Quickly she turned away from him and patted Clarence’s shoulder.

  “Let’s go inside, Clarence. You can tell me the whole story. From the beginning.”

  Jonathan swung the door open, and she let out a gasp.

  “Jonathan!” she exclaimed as her eyes surveyed the house. Molly stepped inside, her eyes wide. “What the devil is going on, here?” She ran from room to room, her panic growing. The house had been stripped of everything that belonged to her aunt.

  Fear quickened her steps, and Molly rushed to her aunt’s room. The bed and dresser were still there, but little else. The dresser was stripped clean. All of her aunt’s perfumes and lotions were gone, along with the Irish table scarf that had been on the dresser for as long as Molly could remember.

  She rushed to her aunt’s closet and yanked the door open. That, too, was empty. All of her aunt’s clothes, her shoes and her handbags were gone, too. Even her favorite pillow and quilt were gone.

  Fear rose inside her, and Molly tore through the house. “Aunt Emily?” she yelled, her voice growing thin with panic. “Aunt Emily! Where are you?” If this was some kind of joke, it wasn’t funny.

  After searching every room, Molly finally realized her aunt was not there. Fighting back the fear and hysteria that threatened to break through, she struggled to compose herself. Where was Aunt Emily?

  Suddenly she whirled on Clarence, who had been following close on her heels. “Clarence!” Her voice was sharper than she intended. “What on earth is going on?”

  Clarence hung his head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Miss Molly,” he cried. “They’re gone!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Molly grabbed Clarence by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “What do you mean, they’re gone? Gone where?” she demanded, her voice rising.

  Clarence shifted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. Eunice and I went downtown this morning. When we got back, Daddy was gone. All his clothes, everything—gone.” Clarence blinked rapidly, and Molly could have sworn the man was going to cry. “Don’t know where he could’ve gone. Or why. Eunice and I love having him around. So do the kids. ‘Specially the younger ones. Daddy’s got his own room now. Don’t have to share no more. Even bought him his own television. Where could he have gone, Miss Molly?”

  As upset as she was about her aunt, her heart went out to Clarence. He was as close to his father as she was to her aunt.

  “Don’t worry, Clarence,” she said softly, patting his shoulder. “I’m sure they’re all right. We’ll find them.”

  Molly’s emotions ran the gamut from rage to fear. Something was going on. For Aunt Emily and Ralph to just disappear without telling anyone was unheard of.

  She turned to Jonathan. He was standing quietly behind her. “Do you think something’s happened to them?” She spoke quietly so as not to upset Clarence any further, but her voice trembled and she felt weak. Was it fear that made her tremble now? Or Jonathan?

  In spite of all that had happened, she had to admit that she felt better knowing he was here. She had seen Jonathan the Attorney in action and felt somewhat comforted by his presence. Remembering the way he had responded the night of Aunt Emily’s arrest, Molly knew he could stay calm in a crisis. And this was definitely a crisis.

  His eyes met hers, and he smiled wanly. “I don’t think so. Come on, I think I might have an idea where they are.” He cupped her elbow and led her through the house as she cast a curious eye at him.

  “What do you know about this?” Clarence inquired suspiciously as he followed them out to the squad car.

  Molly scrambled in back and slid over so that Jonathan could get in. The scent of him assaulted her sens
es, but she fought it. That relationship was over, she told herself firmly, clutching the back of Clarence’s seat as he screeched around the corner, sirens screaming.

  “Where to?” Clarence asked, streaking through a red light.

  “To the morgue, if you don’t slow down,” Jonathan told him. “Turn off that darn siren. And the lights, too. We’ve already caused enough of a disturbance.”

  “We’ve created a disturbance!” Clarence wailed. “My daddy’s gone!” Clarence repeated, hitting the gas pedal again so that they were thrown back against their seat. “Ain’t had a missing person in Lord knows when. And my own daddy yet.” He shook his head. “How’s it gonna look, me the sheriff and all. Already put out an APB on him.”

  Jonathan sighed and flashed Molly a weary smile. He looked tired, she thought, eyeing the dark circles that shadowed his face. She noticed he hadn’t shaved, either. “Clarence, your father’s not missing. Let’s just pretend you’ve misplaced him for the moment.” Jonathan ignored Clarence’s derisive snort and continued. “Drive over to Maple Street and make a right at the corner. First house on the left.”

  Molly frowned and turned to Jonathan in confusion. “Who lives there?” she inquired. She remembered the house. It was a large, rambling ranch house that sat nestled on a huge corner lot.

  “My grandmother,” Jonathan said quietly, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.

  Molly bolted upright. “Your grandmother! Your grandmother lives over on Elm.”

  “Not anymore,” Jonathan commented softly, without opening his eyes.

  Molly reached over and touched his shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘not anymore’?” she asked, struggling to put the pieces together. Clarence was nearly hysterical. Jonathan was suddenly tight-lipped. Aunt Emily and Ralph had disappeared bag and baggage. And apparently Alma had moved. Molly rubbed her throbbing temples. Was the whole world mad? What was going on?

  Jonathan’s lids fluttered open, and he rubbed his eyes gingerly. “She moved,” he said quietly, turning his gaze on Molly. The look on his face gave her butterflies. He looked so sad that it tugged at her heart.

  “Jonathan?” she said softly, unconsciously grabbing his arm. “When did she move?”

  “This morning. I helped move her.” He settled his head back and closed his eyes again.

  Why hadn’t he told her his grandmother was moving? she wondered. And what did it have to do with her aunt and Ralph?

  She looked at Jonathan. With his eyes closed and the shadow his beard sprinkled across his face he looked so…vulnerable. She reached out and brushed back a copper curl that had fallen across his forehead. He looked so tired. And so very, very sad. Her heart ached.

  His eyes opened slowly at her touch and his gaze met hers. “Why did you run out last night?” The look in his eyes was haunting, and Molly pulled her gaze away. She still didn’t feel strong enough to look into his eyes. It stirred feelings she didn’t want to feel. “You didn’t stay to hear the rest of what I had to say.” Jonathan’s eyes moved slowly across her face, and he sighed regretfully. “You said you’d trust me, Molly,” he accused softly.

  His words brought another stab of pain, and Molly blinked back the tears. “I—”

  “This the place?” Clarence asked as he screeched to a halt.

  Jonathan sat up and blinked. “This is it.” Wearily he pushed the door open, and Molly scrambled out behind him.

  Clarence stood stock still, staring at the building. “You sure this is the place?”

  Jonathan sighed. “I’m sure.”

  Clarence started up the walk. His right hand moved to his holster and he pulled his gun out. “I’m the law here. I’ll handle this. Might be some trouble. You civilians stay here.”

  Jonathan clamped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “The only trouble you’ll have will be from me if you don’t put that damn thing away.”

  Clarence glanced up at Jonathan, then at Molly. Ralph was right, she decided. Clarence did get carried away at times. Dejectedly Clarence replaced the gun in his holster, but not before giving Jonathan a nasty glare.

  “Don’t worry, Jonathan,” she whispered. “His gun’s not loaded. Ralph took his bullets away last year after Clarence nearly shot his foot off.” Jonathan rolled his eyes and took her arm as they climbed up the walk.

  The house looked deserted, but after Molly rang the doorbell several times, Alma finally answered.

  “Hello, children.” Alma moved away from the door to allow them to enter. Molly and Clarence volleyed for position as they tried to enter the doorway at the same time.

  “Ladies first,” Jonathan instructed, clamping a hand on Clarence’s shoulder and giving him a tug backward.

  Molly stepped into the hallway, with Clarence right on her heels. She took in the freshly painted walls, the bright sunlight streaking in through the clean windows. The place was nice. Homey.

  “We were just about to have some tea. Would you children like some?”

  “We?” Molly and Clarence caroled in unison. “Is Aunt Emily here?”

  “What about my daddy?”

  Alma nodded. “They’re both here. Come on in.” They followed Alma as she rounded the corner into a large, bright dining room. Ralph and Aunt Emily were seated comfortably at a large oak table.

  “Aunt Emily!” Molly’s voice was pitched high. “What on earth are you doing here? You scared the life out of me.” She rushed to her aunt and folded her in her arms, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Daddy, what are you doing?” Clarence stared at his father.

  Ralph stood up and looked at his son quizzically as Clarence practically collapsed in his arms.

  “Quit slobbering on me, boy,” Ralph instructed sternly, holding his son at arm’s length.

  “Having tea, dear,” Emily explained calmly. “Would you like some? It’s fresh. Just brewed it myself.” She smiled sweetly at them.

  Molly’s temper inched upward. Tea? Tea! Her aunt wanted to know if Molly wanted some tea? After the scare she had just had, a tranquilizer would have been more appropriate. “Aunt Emily, I don’t want any tea. What I want is to know what happened. I’ve been looking all over for you. You scared the life out of me.”

  “Happened?” Emily continued to pour, oblivious to Ralph and Clarence’s animated chatter. “Why, nothing has happened to me. Whatever gave you that idea?” She flashed Molly a smile, and Molly was sorely tempted to stamp her foot in frustration. Her aunt was doing it again. But this time, it wasn’t going to work. She’d just had the scare of her life and she wanted an explanation. A logical explanation, and right now!

  “Why are all your clothes gone, Daddy? You scared Eunice and me to death,” Clarence accused, his face firmly set in a pout.

  “Sit down, boy.” Ralph yanked out a chair, and scowled at his son. Clarence dropped heavily into the chair and wearily dropped his head into his hands.

  “Tea, dear?” Emily asked calmly, waving the pot in Clarence’s direction. “There’s some nice sugar cookies if you’d like one. Just baked them myself. You look like you could use some refreshments.” She turned to Molly. “How about you, dear? Would you like something?” She smiled and Molly’s temper snapped. She reached out and took the pot from her aunt’s hand, setting it down on the table with a bang.

  “What I want,” Molly said through clenched teeth, “is an explanation. Right now.” She dropped an arm around her aunt’s shoulders. “Would you all excuse us, please?” Molly guided her aunt through the dining room and into the next room, which turned out to be a kitchen. A warm, cheerful kitchen. Shutting the swinging door behind her, Molly turned to her aunt.

  “Now, would you mind telling me what the devil you’re doing?” she cried. Whatever was going on was not funny. She had been genuinely frightened to discover her aunt gone. And now Aunt Emily was acting as if her disappearing was a perfectly natural occurrence.

  “I already told you what I was doing,” Emily said primly, as she sat down. “I w
as pouring tea.”

  Molly’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at her aunt. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Her voice rose, and she struggled to control herself. After mentally counting to ten, she continued. “What are you doing here? And why are all your clothes gone? You certainly don’t need your entire wardrobe to play your weekly game of bridge.”

  Emily patted the seat next to her. “Maybe you’d better sit down, dear.”

  Yanking the chair out, Molly reluctantly sat down. She’d stand on her head if it meant getting a straight answer from her aunt. “All right, I’m sitting. Now let’s have it. And from the beginning,” she warned, narrowing her gaze.

  “What would you like to know, dear?” Emily smiled.

  Molly rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head in despair. “Aunt Emily,” she began slowly, with infinitely more patience than she felt. “You scared ten years off my life, and I want to know why! And don’t tell me it was so you could pour tea for Ralph Pritchard. Certainly the man can handle that little chore by himself.”

  Emily’s face fell. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She reached out and patted Molly’s arm in a soothing gesture, but Molly wasn’t soothed. “I was going to tell you—I tried to explain this morning, but, well, you were so upset, so I thought it could wait.”

  “What could wait?” Molly cried in exasperation. “What were you going to tell me?” She was going to scream if she didn’t get some answers soon.

  Emily smiled. “I’ve left you, dear.”

  “What!” Molly cried, lunging from the chair to stare at her aunt incredulously. “What do you mean, you’ve left me?” This was going a bit too far, even for her aunt.

  Emily folded her hands primly on the table and coolly met Molly’s startled gaze. “I’ve flown the coop! I’ve left you, dear!” Emily announced, obviously quite delighted with the idea.