by Diane Noble
Livvy quirked a brow. “Such as bribery?”
Kate laughed. “My own weapon of choice when it came to getting my kids to do something they didn’t want to do—and after I’d tried everything else.”
“Tell me about your kids.”
“We’ve got three, two daughters and a son. Andrew, our oldest, lives in Philadelphia, works as a lawyer. He’s married and has two kids—the cutest grandchildren you’d ever want to see.
“Rebecca’s the baby of the family,” Kate continued. “She’s in New York City, hoping for her big break on the Broadway stage. Right now she’s an understudy.
“And our older daughter, Melissa, lives in Atlanta. She’s married and has recently presented us with our third grandchild, a little girl named Mia Elizabeth.”
“They sound like great kids.”
Kate’s eyes filled with tears. Embarrassed, she reached for a nearby tissue box. “The older two have been out of the nest for some time, but Rebecca’s wingspreading is still pretty new.”
Livvy seemed to see right through to Kate’s soul. “Something tells me all this—the move, the new church, new home, the empty nest—is harder on you than you’re letting on.”
Kate blew her nose and shrugged it off with a laugh. “Sometimes it does seem a bit overwhelming.”
“You’ve got a friend, Kate. It’s me. I’ve just appointed myself, and it’s official. If you ever need to talk, I’m your woman. If you ever need anything...”—she glanced around the room at the stacks of boxes—“and you do! Beginning this week, I’m coming over to help you unpack.”
Kate started to raise her hand in protest, but Livvy shook her head. “As your new friend, I’m telling you that you have no choice in the matter.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “And if you decide to redecorate, I’ve got a stack of interior decorating magazines three feet high.” She laughed. “Of course, with two teenagers of the male variety—our home is decorated in sweat socks and football jerseys. Ahh, but someday...” Her gaze lingered on the sliders for an instant. She frowned, then turned back to Kate. “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a herd of sheep on your windows?”
Kate threw back her head and laughed. That cinched it. This was a woman with an artistic eye. “You couldn’t have offered anything better. When can we start?”
The men had finished with the chairs, and Danny called to Livvy that they were ready to leave.
Kate walked Livvy to the front door, but Livvy hesitated before stepping outside. “I couldn’t help overhearing Renee tell you that she recognized the arsonist from someplace.” She paused. “The odd thing about it is that when I saw him during the fire, I had the strangest feeling I knew him from somewhere too.”
“Is he from around here?”
Livvy shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“I saw him just for an instant, but I was struck by how utterly sad he looked. It was as if so much sorrow had filled his heart, he couldn’t bear to go on.”
Danny came up the walk to stand beside his wife. “Are you talking about the arsonist?”
The women nodded.
“I recognized him—maybe from newspaper clippings or photos, something like that. It’s likely he’s been caught doing something like this before.”
“Newspaper clippings...” Livvy mused, narrowing her eyes. “That gives me an idea. I’ll check the archives tomorrow.”
Kate frowned. “Archives?”
Livvy smiled. “Oh, I don’t think I told you. I’m the town librarian. Anything and everything you want to know, come to me and I’ll find it out for you.”
Chapter Five
After nearly thirty years of marriage, Paul still had the ability to make her heart flutter. There were those little things she loved about him, of course—the way he combed his fingers through his hair when he was puzzled about something, the way his eyes brightened when he caught her watching him, or the way he threw back his head and laughed at her jokes, even when she couldn’t remember the punch line. She loved how he warmed her cup with hot water before pouring her first cup of coffee. But what she loved most about her husband, when all was said and done, was the way he lived out God’s grace, giving to others what his Lord had so freely given him. It was part of who he was. Correction: it was all of who he was.
This was one of those times that reminded her of his character.
They were sitting together at the kitchen table over coffee. The local paper was spread out before them with the arsonist’s photograph plastered across the front page, the headline reading in two-inch-high letters: DRIFTER CONFESSES TO ARSON.
“What do you think would drive a man to set a church on fire?”
Paul looked up. “My first guess would be anger at God. Probably coming from a place of great pain. He needs our prayers, not our anger. He needs us to show him God’s redemptive love, not a vindictive, get-even attitude.”
These were similar to the words he had spoken after the service the day before. He leaned forward earnestly. “Perhaps he’s mentally ill; there’s always that concern. But what if this man just made a mistake? What if the act came from a place of unspeakable pain? What if we gave him the opportunity to turn his life around? Isn’t that what God would have us do?”
Kate reached for his hand. “You’re talking about grace. But not everyone sees it the way you do.”
He gave her one of the lopsided smiles she loved. “And there’s the law, of course. If he did indeed start the fire, there will be consequences. Severe, I suspect.”
“But that doesn’t have to stop this congregation from extending forgiveness and grace to him, just as God extends it to us.”
“That’s what I love about you,” Paul said, standing. “You so readily give what God has given you.”
She smiled. “Funny...I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
Paul bent to kiss her cheek before heading out the door for a breakfast meeting at the Country Diner with Danny Jenner, who was a math teacher at the high school.
Kate gathered the dishes and headed to the counter. As she rinsed them and placed them in the dishwasher, something nipped at the edges of her mind. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She rinsed a juice glass, reached to put it in the rack, then stopped and frowned, puzzling over what she knew so far. A man had confessed to setting the fire. Some townspeople thought they recognized him. But the newspaper account said he was a transient. How could they recognize someone who had just recently drifted into town?
Thinking back to the brief moment her eyes had met his, she had to admit there was something about him that was familiar to her too. Was it simply the pain in his eyes that seemed to reach out to her, or did she, too, know him from someplace or from some news account?
Words from the book of Matthew came to her: “I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me anything to drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me no clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.”
“Surely you don’t mean me, right now, do you, Lord?”
She looked around the kitchen and into the dining room and the living room beyond. There were boxes still waiting to be unpacked, the master-bedroom closet, where the movers had dumped their clothes, was calling her name, and she had planned to hang her cookware today to give herself more counter space. Cooking was her hobby, and preparing a favorite gourmet meal, her first since moving in, would be therapeutic for both her and Paul.
No. She was definitely too busy to stop by the jail and visit the arsonist.
She finished the dishes and headed to the garage for the ladder. For two days she had anticipated hanging her prized Williams-Sonoma pots and pans. First, she would measure the space, then pick up some sort of hanging pot rack at the hardware store and make a quick stop by the market to buy the ingredients for a favorite one-pot meal: lamb stew with rosemary, garlic, and red potatoes.
&
nbsp; Saturday night, LuAnne Matthews, a waitress at the local diner, had stopped by with fresh-baked lasagna, and Sunday night, Livvy had sent her boys over with a homemade fried chicken dinner, complete with mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. There were plenty of leftovers, but Kate couldn’t wait to cook her first meal in her own kitchen.
She was at the top of the ladder, reaching over the counter with a measuring tape, when the words drifted into her heart again: I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.
She hesitated, staring at the measuring tape for a moment, then went back to work.
I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.
This time she put the tape down and descended the ladder. With a sigh, she lifted her eyes heavenward and smiled. “Okay, Lord. I get it. I’m on my way.”
She grabbed her pocketbook and keys and raced out of the house...only to come to a dead stop when she reached the garage. Paul had taken her car to his meeting because his Lexus hadn’t arrived yet.
She stood by the empty garage for a moment, looking down the street, trying to remember how far it was to town. She was still deciding whether to attempt the walk when an Oldsmobile, pale pink and at least two dozen years old, cruised up with a rumble and stopped in front of her house. It was in remarkably good condition, but it reminded Kate of a giant pink Sub-Zero refrigerator on wheels. The passenger-side window rolled down, and when Kate saw the driver, she swallowed a groan and attempted a friendly smile.
“Good morning, Renee.”
The older woman sniffed. “It looks like you’re on your way someplace.”
“I was. But I’d forgotten that Paul took the car this morning.”
“You have only one car?”
Kate ignored the dig. “We hired some students from our old church to drive Paul’s. They’ll be here next week. I hope.”
“Oh. I’ll be happy to drive you wherever you were headed.”
“No, no. That’s not necessary,” Kate said quickly.
“But you’ll have to sit in back. Kisses thinks the front seat is his.”
“Truly. It’s all right. I’ll wait for Paul.”
I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.
Kate drew in a deep breath and gave Renee another smile. “Actually, I do think I’ll take you up on your offer. If you could drop me...” She hesitated. It hadn’t taken more than one conversation with the woman to identify her as a busybody. She really didn’t want Renee to know where she was headed. Or why. But neither could she lie. “The...ah...town hall,” she finally said. After all, in a town this size, the town hall served a multitude of functions—offices for the mayor, the sheriff’s deputy, a small jail, and a large multipurpose room for community get-togethers. She could be heading there for a myriad of reasons.
“Sure. Hop in.”
Kate scooted in and buckled up. The fact that conversation was a bit awkward with Kate in the back didn’t stop Renee. As she aimed the big vehicle back into the street, she launched right into where she had stopped during the previous day’s service. It was all about the arsonist.
Her head barely topped the upper edge of the steering wheel, which she gripped tightly with both hands. Kisses had moved from his seat to stand on Renee’s lap, nose pointing out the open window. Keeping the Oldsmobile pointed toward town, Renee glanced over her shoulder at Kate. “Did you hear that he confessed?”
“It was in this morning’s paper.”
“I knew he was guilty as dirt. I told you that yesterday.”
“He needs our prayers, not our condemnation.”
Renee shot her a look. “He needs to pay for what he did.”
Kate settled back into the seat and prayed for grace. An abundance of grace. “The courts will sort it out, I’m sure.”
Renee rolled her eyes. “Courts? Ha. He’ll never get his due, believe you me. I can’t abide those soft-touch do-gooders who’ll probably find a way to get him off. I tell you what...I’m planning to do a little digging myself. Make sure he doesn’t get off with little more than a hand slap.”
Kate was getting worried about Renee looking at her instead of at the road. She added traveling mercies to her prayer for grace.
Renee turned back to look at the road just in time to swerve out of the way of a school bus. Kate grabbed the armrest, knuckles white, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“As I was saying, he hurt a lot of people. Most of our congregation can tell you about the special occasions we celebrated at Faith Briar—weddings, funerals, baptisms. Those are moments you can’t ever get back, not even in a new church.” She shook her head. “Nosiree, that arsonist robbed us of more than just a building; he robbed us of a special place that was ours alone. And believe you me, he’s going to pay.”
But it wasn’t yours—ours—alone, Kate wanted to argue. It was the house of the Lord, and he will restore what was taken from us. But she thought it wise to keep her thoughts to herself.
Renee turned right on Hamilton, left on Euclid, then maneuvered the big car down into a parking space by the town hall. She was surprisingly adept, considering that parking the thing looked about as manageable as docking the Queen ElizabethII. Renee turned around and raised a thin-penciled brow Kate’s direction. “What’s your business here, then?”
Kate gave her a sweet smile as she slid out of the big car. “Just business,” she said. “Thanks for the ride, Renee. I really appreciate it.” She closed the door and turned to leave.
“But how will you get home?”
Kate turned and waved. “Don’t worry. I’ll find Paul—”
“I’ll wait for you!” Renee reached for the door handle. “Better yet, I’ll come in with you.” She was out of the car before Kate could protest.
“Really,” she said. “That’s not neces—”
“Not an inconvenience at all,” Renee said, clipping a jeweled leash on Kisses. The little dog hopped down, sat, and looked up at Kate with large bug eyes. He was shivering even though he sported a hand-crocheted sweater the same shade as the car.
The town hall was a no-nonsense two-story brick building with off-white trim. Maple trees, just beginning to turn, lined the walkway leading to the concrete stairs and the double glass-door entrance. Patches of autumn-dry grass spread out beneath the trees.
Renee huffed and puffed as she followed Kate along the walkway, up the stairs, then through the glass doors.
A uniformed guard stood to one side, holding a clipboard, and watched them approach. Kate spotted the sign for the deputy’s office to the right of the entrance and turned to wait for Renee.
The cat would soon be out of the bag—or would have been if the guard hadn’t stopped Renee.
“Sorry, ma’am, the dog isn’t allowed in here.”
Renee stopped dead still, glaring. “First of all,” she said, “Kisses is no ordinary dog. He is a purebred toy Chihuahua. I have the papers to prove it. And secondly...”—she tapped the deputy’s chest with her index finger.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the guard said, though his voice had dropped to a kinder timbre, “but you cannot proceed. New regulations. We had an incident with a Saint Bernard a few weeks ago. Since then, no pets.”
Renee stared at him, her eyes watering. “Well I never,” she finally muttered.
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” Kate said.
Renee checked her nails, sighed, then led Kisses back down the steps to her car.
A few strides across the creaking wooden floor, and Kate pushed through the door leading to the deputy’s office. A uniformed man sat at the front desk.
“I’d like to speak to the man you arrested for arson.”
The young man glanced up at her with a frown, and she realized he was the same red-haired sheriff’s deputy who had passed them on their way into town. He looked younger than her daughter Rebecca, which meant he was barely into his twenties.
He was still frowning, perhaps in an attempt to appear stern, which he probably thought was befitting h
is position. But the result was almost comical. The end of his freckled nose took a bit of a tweak to the left, probably from an old football accident, and his dark hazel eyes seemed too ready to smile. Plus, it was hard to take seriously someone with the name Skip, which was printed on his nametag.
He blinked. “You mean Jed Brawley?”
“I wasn’t aware he had told anyone his name.”
“We don’t think he’s telling us the truth, and he has no identification. So far we haven’t heard back on his prints.”
“So, Jed Brawley it is for now.”
“Yep.” The kid twiddled his pencil in his fingers, then stuck it over his ear. After a moment, he took it down again and tapped the eraser on the table.
“It doesn’t matter to me what his name is, I would still like to see him.”
“You mean here? Today?”
She sighed. “Yes, here. Right now.”
Deputy Skip looked skeptical. “Well, I don’t know. I’d have to ask the sheriff. I really can’t make a decision of this magnitude...I mean, the sheriff works mainly out of Pine Ridge and comes into Copper Mills on his rounds. But then, he is just over at the burn site. You could go over there and check, but that’s not the usual sort of...But then, even the fire wasn’t the usual, well, you might say...”
Kate held up a hand. “If the sheriff were here, would he allow a visitor in to see Jed Brawley?”
“Well, now. I don’t know for sure. Depends on the visitor, I suppose.”
Kate leaned over his desk. “Okay, then, let’s try this. Has Jed retained an attorney?”
He shook his head.
“I assume he’s been allowed his one phone call?” She didn’t know for sure that placing a call was a prisoner’s right, but she’d seen it on Matlock and thought she’d give it a stab.
“Now, that I know for sure. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not a soul.”
“Until me. I think he’ll want to see me.”
The young man frowned again but didn’t ask why, probably because he was raised to be polite. That might not be a good quality in police work.