Through the Fire

by Diane Noble

  “He seems to have recovered. You’re not thinking of changing his name, are you?”

  Renee fluttered her fingers. “Oh goodness, no. Talk about an identity crisis.” She took a sip of tea. “Speaking of Eli—he’s found a crane operator to deliver the bell. It will arrive tomorrow.”

  Kate’s sip of coffee went down her windpipe. “Tomorrow?” she sputtered.

  “Bright and early. I plan to come over and take pictures of the crane lifting it in.”

  Kate told herself not to think about the bell swinging over their house and what might happen if a cable slipped.

  “It’s broken my heart to see it covered with mud and ashes and broken pieces of charred steeple.” Renee had tears in her eyes. “It’s the one thing in that little church that remains solid and sure. If that bell could talk, think about the tales it could tell.” She paused for a moment. “My own wed—” She caught herself and stopped abruptly. “I mean, the weddings, the funerals, the births...the bell tolled for each.” She blinked rapidly, then took another sip of tea. “My goodness, the stories...”

  “No one else thought to do anything about it,” Kate said quietly. “It will mean a lot to everyone once they see what you’ve done.”

  “Plus, it’s one more way to keep Eli busy,” she said with another flutter of her fingers. “We’ve all been so glad to see him finally getting back to living again. He dragged around town something awful for months after his fiancée was diagnosed with cancer. Then after she died, he seemed, well, so distracted by his grief, and he was driving the rest of the town nuts.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Several have mentioned his recent troubles, but not anything specific.”

  “He’s been so sad, he wouldn’t leave his quarters above the shop. And he kept the shop closed for weeks on end. And then, as I mentioned, the—”

  “Yes, distraction. Now I know why everyone is so pleased to see him working on rebuilding the church. It’s given him a new lease on life.” Kate took a final sip of her coffee, gently placed Kisses on the floor, and stood. “I really need to be on my way, Renee. Thank you for the coffee—and for the visit.”

  “Don’t forget about the bell,” Renee called after Kate as Kate headed to her car. “And maybe you ought to think about cleaning it up before services on Sunday. You could probably pick up some special metal polish at the hardware store.”

  Kate counted to ten, then turned back around with a smile. “How about if we work on it together?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I have a nail appointment right after I stop by to see if the bell arrives safely.”

  RENEE OCCUPIED KATE’S THOUGHTS as she drove home. She was a proud woman. Kate had already noticed that she attempted to shave years off her age, dressed like someone at least two decades younger, and sent a not-so-subtle message with the ever-present Youth-Dew.

  Kate turned the Honda from Ashland onto Smoky Mountain Road, pulled over, and bowed her head.

  How easy it is to misjudge others, Father. Forgive me. Even if I’m wrong about this, I have no right to judge her. She took a deep breath. And Lord? Thanks for being patient with me. This refining business isn’t easy. Will I ever learn?

  AFTER AN AFTERNOON of running errands—a trip to the grocery store and the cleaners, and a quick stop at the library to visit with Livvy—Kate had just pulled into the garage when Eli drove up and parked in front of the house.

  She greeted him with a wave as he trotted up the sidewalk toward her.

  He smiled. “Greetings, Mrs. Hanlon. Is the pastor home?”

  “His car is in the garage, so I think he is.”

  “That Lexus is sure a beauty,” he said as they walked toward the door. “I can see why he takes such good care of it.”

  Kate laughed. “Sometimes I think he loves it as much as one of our kids.”

  Eli looked shocked.

  “I’m kidding, of course.”

  He gave her another of his shy smiles. “I knew that.”

  They entered the house, and Eli went with Paul into the living room while Kate headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

  She dumped chopped onions and garlic into a gleaming copper frying pan with a drizzle of olive oil. The scent drew the men like a magnet, just as Kate knew it would. There wasn’t room for all three in the small kitchen so Paul and Eli plopped down at the table.

  “We’re having spaghetti tonight,” she said to Eli. “How about joining us?” She opened a package of spicy pork sausage and broke it apart into the pan. The browning crumbles sizzled and danced in the skillet as she chased them around with a fork.

  “Hey, cool. I’d love to.”

  She opened two cans of tomatoes and a can of tomato paste, dumped them into a separate pot at the back of the stove, then reached for some dried oregano.

  “Can I set the table?” Eli looked happier than she’d seen him since the day they arrived.

  “Absolutely.” She stepped out of his way and pointed him in the direction of the flatware and everyday dishes. “And the napkins are in the pantry closet.”

  “You’ve got a pantry?”

  She laughed. “It’s makeshift. Try the little cupboard over the fridge.”

  Paul grabbed the lettuce and tomatoes from the refrigerator, snatched the colander, and turned on the faucet.

  “Hey, this is really cool,” Eli said. “It reminds me of being with my grandparents when I was a kid. I was there more than I was at home.”

  He must have noticed something in Kate’s expression, because he quickly added, “I don’t mean you look like them. They were pretty old. I don’t know how old, but they seemed old...I mean they weren’t really old, just—”

  Paul jumped in to ease the young man’s discomfort. “Katie, did you know that Eli and I both attended East Tennessee State?”

  Eli shot him an appreciative grin. “That almost makes me family, right?”

  It melted her heart. Having Eli around was like having one of the kids home again.

  They had just finished dinner when the phone rang.

  Kate picked it up at the same time Eli and Paul got up to clear the table.

  “Missus Hanlon?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Skip Spencer, down at the station?”

  “Hello, Skip.”

  “I’ve got big news I thought you’d want to know...”

  Behind her, the clink of dishes being rinsed and the whoosh of running water made it difficult to hear. She signaled Paul, who turned off the faucet.

  “Tell me again, Skip. I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

  “I was saying that the sheriff says he doesn’t have enough evidence to keep J.B. Packer, especially because of that death threat you got. He thinks there’s somethin’ else going on here. Plans to release Packer Wednesday morning. I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “That’s great news. I appreciate you telling me.”

  “And Missus Hanlon? There’s something else.”

  Kate drew in a deep breath. Sometimes it took Skip forever to get to the point. “What is it?”

  “The prisoner, J.B. Packer? Well, he remembered something else about the fire. He says it’s important.”

  “Did he tell you what it is?”

  “No. He says he needs to talk to you. He asked if you could come to the town hall Wednesday when he’s released. He’ll tell you then.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there.”

  “He’s getting out at ten.”

  Kate hung up and punched the air with her fist. “Yes!” She laughed. “Hallelujah and amen!” She felt like dancing around the kitchen, arthritic knee and all.

  Paul looked over from the sink, soapy plate in hand. “What’s going on?”

  “Jed Packer is being released. The sheriff decided there wasn’t enough evidence to tie him to the crime. Can you believe it?”

  Paul’s smile was as wide as Kate’s. “Thanks to you, Katie, an innocent man will not be prosecuted.” He crossed the room and gave he
r a hug. She loved how he smelled of lemony dish soap.

  Over her husband’s shoulder, Kate smiled at Eli. The young man looked uncomfortable and let his gaze drift away from hers.

  Her heart went out to him. Their open show of affection couldn’t help but bring back the acute memory of his loss.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The phone rang at 6:37 the following morning. Kate set aside her Bible, trotted to the kitchen, and caught it on the fourth ring, just before it clicked over to the answering machine.

  “Is this Kate Hanlon?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “This is Sybil Hudson. You contacted me about Worldwide Destination Resorts?”

  “I’m so glad to hear from you. Yes, I did contact you. I’ve been concerned about your safety since you left for California.”

  There was a moment of surprised silence, then Sybil said, “That’s sweet of you to worry. And honestly, I don’t know how far WDR would go to cover their tracks in my case—or in yours. Or how far they would go to scare you off—if you are who you say you are.”

  Kate frowned. “Who I say I am?”

  There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” Sybil said, “but I’m a little uncomfortable with this—and I know I’m coming across as a little paranoid. But believe me, I’ve got good reason to be.” She paused, and Kate could hear the kitchen clock ticking. “After all, I don’t know you from Adam.”

  Kate sighed. “I guess you have no way of knowing. If you’d rather meet with me in person, maybe we can arrange that, though I don’t know how that would convince you either.” She sighed again. “All I can say is that I’m a pastor’s wife in Copper Mill, Tennessee.” She explained about the fire on their arrival day and about the arrest of a man she didn’t think was responsible. “I’ve got references,” she said, “if you need someone to vouch for me...”

  Sybil laughed. “You sound as honest as the day is long. Besides, who would lie about being a pastor’s wife? My dad was a minister. My mom still says that being a preacher’s wife is one of the hardest jobs there is.”

  Kate laughed lightly. “What can you tell me about WDR’s plans for Copper Mill?” She pulled out a scratch pad and pencil from the drawer below the phone, then sat down at the kitchen table.

  “I was still with the company when it was in the earliest development stages. Management’s motives were great, and they were actually planning to do what they do best—take an old run-down property and restore it to its original glory.

  “Then reports began to leak out that top management was involved in illegal practices—mostly stock manipulation, insider trading, that sort of thing. Just the rumors of it caused the stock to drop to the point that the whole company was in peril.

  “The investigation is still ongoing, and nothing has been proved, no charges filed. Just innuendo. But the damage has been done.

  “That’s when things got dirty. The company needed a scapegoat to reassure the shareholders that everything was in apple-pie order. They picked my boss...”

  “Charles Brandsmyth III,” Kate filled in.

  “Yes.”

  “He was forced to retire?”

  “It was either that or they said they would go public with their accusations that he was behind the leak to the media about insider trading, that he was the ringleader and in fact encouraged his cronies to sell before the big news hit about a disastrous project on the California coast.”

  “Was any of it true?”

  “He was behind the leak. I know that for a fact.”

  “Because he had you make the call.”

  She laughed. “You’re quick. But it wasn’t a phone call. I met with a reporter friend of mine and told her what was going on.”

  “And the other, the insider trading?”

  “No. Not an element of truth to that accusation. They were just trying to scare him into leaving. Of course, once he retired, they leaked plenty of ‘hints’ of impropriety, insinuating that the bad apple was gone and the company could turn itself around.”

  “That’s when you retired.”

  “Right again. I couldn’t stomach the smear campaign. The sad thing is, most of the company is filled with good, honest people, true believers in what they’re doing. Rather than tearing down old, often historic, buildings and putting up new ones, they restore them to their original glory. Better than original, because they put in all the modern conveniences of today’s world. Have you heard of Spain’s paradors?”

  “No.”

  “The government takes centuries-old castles, manor houses, and the like and turns them into four- and five-star hotels. They’re beautiful and they preserve history. That’s the kind of thing WDR wants to do, and has done so well in the past.”

  “It sounds like you still believe in the company.”

  “I do. I just hope someone can root out the real bad apples.”

  Silence fell between them for a moment, then Kate asked, “Is there any evidence of foul play regarding your boss’s accident?”

  “None that can be proved.” Her voice sounded incredibly sad. “I can’t believe anyone at WDR would go that far, but as I’ve said on my blog, things have gotten so bad, they may do anything to try to hang on to their power. People send me nasty e-mails saying I’m either making it up or I’m paranoid.

  “Charles was writing a book, an exposé of illegal practices not just by WDR but by other corporations recently in the news.”

  “And you think,” Kate said, “that word got out about the exposé and someone had him run off the road.”

  “That’s what I think, but I can’t prove it.”

  “What about Copper Mill? Is there anything you can tell me that will shed some light on what’s going on here?”

  “You mean, do I think they would burn down a church to get your property?”

  “Yes. Exactly that.”

  Sybil let out a deep sigh. “A year ago I would have said absolutely not. But now I have to believe that they may be capable of such an act.”

  Kate tapped the eraser end of her pencil on the table. “You said you were still working for them when they purchased the Copper Creek Hotel.”

  “Yes. I remember it well. Charles actually put them onto the place. His people came from around there. His roots were still in the Tennessee hill country. He came back often to fish, though he mostly kept to himself. He loved the small-town atmosphere. That tells you something about the man’s heart. Though he was the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company, lived in a New York penthouse, and was driven everywhere by a chauffeur, he never got caught up in the trappings of power and wealth.” She chuckled. “He once showed me a photograph of himself standing by his Jeep near his favorite fishing spot in Copper Mill. You wouldn’t have known it was the same man.” She paused, and her voice choked when she continued. “I’d never seen him look happier.”

  “It sounds like you loved him,” Kate said quietly.

  “I did, but not in the way people might think. He was my friend. That’s why I can’t let go of what happened to him. I want to clear his name, honor his memory.” She fell silent again, then added, “And if possible—and I don’t know how, because I don’t have any pull in the company anymore—see that the hotel gets renovated and lives up to his dream.”

  “But with a church next door.”

  Sybil laughed. “Absolutely.”

  Before they hung up, Sybil said, “I warned you by e-mail a few days ago, but I need to tell you again—watch your back, Kate. If, in fact, WDR was behind Charles’s accident, that means they’ve upped the stakes, and you’re no longer safe in your own home.”

  She told Sybil about the threatening e-mail. “What I don’t understand is how they knew I was nosing around.”

  “I would guess it was because of your e-mail to me. But don’t blame yourself. Though the post was supposedly private, any hacker worth his salt could get into my system and find it—and many others—if he wanted to. When you post something on the Internet, you might
as well figure you’re skywriting. If people know where to look, they’ll find it.”

  THE FLATBED TRUCK with the crane roared up the street at 7:57 AM. Behind the truck was another with the church bell sitting muddy but proud in the bed. Leading the parade was the pink Oldsmobile with Renee behind the wheel, Kisses in her lap. Eli Weston brought up the rear.

  As soon as she parked, Renee leaned out the window and waved merrily to Kate and Paul, who stood on the front porch. Then she jumped out of the car, Kisses on his jeweled leash, and raced across the yard to tell Eli and the crane driver exactly how she wanted the bell placed.

  For the next half hour, the men talked about how best to lift the bell over the roof and swing it into the backyard. At first Eli thought they might have to cut down the maple tree to get it to fit, then Paul figured out a better place for it—closer to the house, right in front of the sliding-glass doors.

  When the crane driver revved the engine, Eli, Paul, and Kate stood across the street and watched the giant bell lift slowly into the air. The clapper came loose from its binding and clanged against the sides of the bell as it moved above the garage and over the house to where the second driver—with Renee at his side—was positioned to steady the bell as it dropped into place.

  As the bell’s final tones were still ringing in their ears, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. But before the sigh had left their lips, Renee raced around the side of the house. “It’s not where I wanted it,” she shouted to Eli. “Don’t pay these men until it’s right.”

  “Lady, it’s the only place it’ll fit,” the second driver said, shaking his head. He glanced at the crane driver, rolled his eyes, and shrugged.

  Kate followed Renee around the outside of the house. There, in all its muddy, glorious beauty sat the bell. The morning sun was shining on it through the maple leaves, giving it a dappled sheen.

  Kate stopped in her tracks. So did Eli and Paul behind her. Even Renee stopped her ranting and gaped at the bell.

  It was a thing of beauty.

  Kate blinked the sting of tears from her eyes, and she noticed that Renee did the same. Then Renee checked her watch, and gathering Kisses into her arms, headed off to her nail appointment.