The Best Is Yet to Be

by Eve Fisher

  Social impairments, narrow but intense interests, and peculiarities of speech and language were the big three diagnostic factors. Kate thought of Matt’s inability to look people in the eyes, and his football and financial obsessions. She read further about repetitive behaviors, rituals, logic, awkward motor skills: Well, Matt certainly was all logic and no emotion. He almost never smiled or even changed expression. And he was certainly awkward. She hadn’t noticed any repetitive behaviors, but then she hadn’t been around him enough to notice.

  She read on about all the various forms of behavior that could be exhibited, and then suddenly she sat up straight, stunned. She read the sentence again: “People with Asperger’s are often considered too honest and have difficulty being deceptive, even at the expense of hurting someone’s feelings.”

  But if that was true, then Matt couldn’t be a swindler and a thief. If that was true, then how could what Junius told her about Matt be true?

  Kate got up from her rocking chair and walked around the living room. Maybe Matt didn’t have Asperger’s. Maybe something else accounted for his strange behavior. But what? Everything in the book seemed to be the Matt she knew, even the Matt that Junius had described. Except for the lying and the gambling and the fraud. That didn’t fit. Apart from Junius’ words and his pain-filled voice and eyes, all Kate could think of was the poor young man who’d had such difficulty picking out an appropriate get-well card.

  Kate was stumped. What she wanted, what she needed, more than anything, was to talk to Paul. She wanted his perspective, and she also wanted to know what was going on with him. Kate felt wrapped in secrets like a fly caught in a spider’s web, and she had to disentangle herself from them before they became as destructive to her as they had been to Joe and Amanda.

  Kate leaped up from her rocking chair, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door. She needed to find Paul. She got into her car and drove down to the church, but his car wasn’t there. She circled around in the parking lot, and almost without thinking, headed down Barnhill Street, her heart pounding. She didn’t know what she was going to find, but it was time for the secrets to end.

  Kate’s adrenaline was still pumping when she pulled up at the Dew Drop Inn. Seeing Paul’s pickup parked outside sent a quick jolt of apprehension through her. Well, she thought as she got out of the car, it’s now or never. She walked up the creaky steps of the roadhouse and went inside.

  The stale cigarette smoke made her blink more than the dim light. The main room was empty, but she could hear sounds coming from somewhere. Coughing, she followed the sound and saw Paul, Sam, Joe, and Skip all standing in a pool of light on a small platform. They were playing something that sounded vaguely familiar. As she got closer, Skip began singing “I’ll Fly Away.” She stood still and listened. He had a beautiful tenor voice that made the rest of the music sound off-key and off tempo. So this is what he’s been up to, Kate thought. She winced as the men continued to play. It’s going to be hard to be enthusiastic about this.

  “Pretty durn bad, aren’t they?”

  Kate almost jumped and then saw Old Man Parsons sitting at a table just to her left.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Kate said defensively. After all, it was her husband up there playing guitar. “Maybe with a little more practice—”

  “Kate?” Paul called out, peering through the darkness at her.

  “Hi, honey,” she called back. “I thought I’d stop by.” Her voice sounded wobbly and uncertain, even to her.

  Paul set down his guitar and stepped off the stage. The other three all looked dismayed and embarrassed. As he came up to her, Kate took a deep breath and said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were in a band?”

  “Well, I was...” Paul began, then stopped. He shook his head. “The truth is, at first I just wanted to surprise you, and then...well, you heard us.” He looked at her with the same expression Andrew had once when he’d inadvertently filled the dishwasher with laundry soap and flooded the kitchen. “I was hoping we’d get better before you found out.”

  By now the others had gathered around.

  Kate smiled and said soothingly, “Well, I’m sure with practice—”

  “And we are practicing,” Skip interjected. “I know we’ve got a lot of work to do, but I know we’re going to be ready for the summer concert series.”

  Old Man Parsons snorted.

  “Well, we will,” Skip insisted.

  Old Man Parsons shook his head. “Might as well call yourselves the Worst Mill Players and be done with it.” He looked over at Joe and growled, “We gonna play euchre or what?”

  “Sure,” Joe said, glancing around at his fellow players. “I think practice is over for the day.”

  “No!” Skip protested as Joe walked over to the table, and sat down across from Old Man Parsons.

  “Let me get my guitar, and we’ll go,” Paul told Kate.

  “Guys,” Skip cried, “we’ve got to keep practicing!”

  Paul walked over to the stage while Sam put a hand on Skip’s shoulder and said quietly, “It’s over for today, Skip. Come on. Let’s get our instruments, and I’ll take you back to town.” Sam turned to Kate and called, “See you later, Kate.”

  “See you, Sam.”

  Sam and Skip went over to the platform where Paul was putting his guitar in its case. Kate could see Skip whispering, obviously upset. She glanced down at Joe, who was shuffling cards. He looked up at her and grinned.

  “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” he said. “But you caught us.”

  “You know secrets aren’t a good thing, Joe,” Kate admonished.

  The grin vanished. “You’re right there. But we didn’t mean any harm.”

  “I know,” Kate said.

  “We just wanted to play a little music,” Joe added.

  “But you can’t,” Old Man Parsons said.

  “You’re a hard man,” Joe admonished.

  “I’m telling you the truth,” Old Man Parsons said. “Only one of you with any talent’s the Spencer boy. Let him play and you’uns applaud.”

  “They also serve who only stand and wait,” Joe quoted cheerfully.

  Paul came up, his guitar case in hand. “I’ll meet you back home, all right?” he asked Kate.

  “Yes,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek. “See you in a few minutes.”

  Kate went outside, got in her car, and let out a tremendous sigh of relief. Thank you, Lord, that all is well. And if Paul wants to play music, that’s fine. I just hope he gets better at it...She backed around in the parking lot and headed toward home.

  Paul drove into the garage right behind her, and Kate went on inside. She put the coffeepot on and got out two mugs. Paul came in, set the guitar case down in the entryway, and came over to her. He put his arms around her, kissed her, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “For not telling you earlier. I can imagine what you must have gone through when you heard that I was spending time down at the Dew Drop Inn.”

  She chuckled. “Not exactly the best place for a pastor to be spending his spare time.”

  “No.” He leaned back and looked into her warm brown eyes.

  “It was Renee who told me,” Kate said.

  Paul groaned. “Renee Lambert seems to know everything that goes on in Copper Mill. How I thought I could escape detection—”

  “Especially going to a roadhouse.”

  “Believe me, I had a few doubts about it myself. But...there might be a reason we went there, besides playing music.” He stepped back and leaned against the counter. “I’ve spent some time talking to the man who owns the place, Bo Twist. I have the feeling that I’m the first person in a very long time who’s spoken to him about God and God’s love. Maybe it’s a seed planted that someone else can harvest.” He smiled ruefully. “It would be nice if something came out of it besides bad music.”

  Kate gave him an admiring look. She loved him so much. She
especially loved the way he found God’s hand working in everything. “And who says it was bad music?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Paul walked over to the window and looked outside. “It started out as sort of trying to recapture our youth, I suppose.”

  “Skip’s trying to recapture his youth?” Kate chuckled.

  “No, the rest of us. Well, Sam and me. I think Joe just likes to try anything new. It hadn’t occurred to me that thirty years of not playing would catch up with me.” Paul turned back toward her. “I guess I thought it was like a bicycle—you never forget. Well, music’s not like that. Music is more like faith: you have to practice it.”

  Kate smiled.

  “When you heard about me at the Dew Drop Inn, what was your reaction?”

  Kate looked at him thoughtfully. “I was worried and upset. I really shouldn’t have been. I know you, not to mention the fact that I love you, and yet...there it was. I had to fight against doubting someone I believe in with all my heart.”

  “Exactly. It happens to all of us.”

  “Even you?”

  “Of course,” Paul said sincerely. “That’s why I try to be especially understanding when people come to me with questions of doubt. After all, if a word or two of gossip can make you wonder about someone you love, the nightly news could certainly make you wonder if God really is out there. But we have to remind ourselves that He is, every day.” Paul poured himself a cup of coffee. “So what made you finally come down to see what I was up to?”

  Kate blushed. “Well, the truth is, you weren’t the only one with a secret. I’ve been keeping one too. It all finally came to a head today, and I knew I had to talk to you.”

  “Let’s go sit down in the living room, and you can tell me all about it,” Paul said, taking her hand.

  As they curled up on the couch, Kate began, “It all started with the Faith Freezer Program a little over a week ago.”

  Paul sat and listened with the quiet intensity that made him such an excellent pastor. Kate told him about the petty thefts, the missing money, and the swirl of suspicion that surrounded Tom Matthews, Matt Lawson, Amanda, and even Martha Sinclair. She also told him about her conversation with Junius and the statements he made about his son that didn’t seem to fit what she’d read about Asperger’s syndrome.

  “So, you see, I don’t know what to believe. Do I believe Junius or do I believe the book?” she finished.

  “You’re assuming, of course, that Matt really does have Asperger’s syndrome,” Paul said. “He might not.”

  “I’ve thought of that. Of course, I’ve been assuming that my theory is the correct one.”

  “At least you have a theory. I’ve never thought about it one way or the other,” Paul said. “I just assumed he was your typical computer geek with poor social skills.”

  Kate chuckled.

  “But I’ve got to say that the man Junius described isn’t the man I know—or thought I knew,” he continued. “I’ve never seen any hint of deception or a gambling addiction in Matt. Of course, I also can’t say that I’ve spent much time with him since neither of them comes to Faith Briar. He’s...It’s like he’s always in the background. You don’t really notice him.”

  “That’s how I’ve felt,” Kate agreed. “And that’s almost exactly what Livvy said.”

  “Well, at least it’s not just me,” Paul said, almost with relief. Then he shook his head. “I should have tried harder. I’ve let him stay in the background instead of making an effort to draw him out.”

  Kate nodded, thinking that she had been guilty of the same thing.

  “The Faith Freezer Program trouble worries me,” Paul said, looking at Kate. “This is a serious situation. I wonder if any other elderly people have been bilked of their money?”

  Kate sighed. “I’ve wondered the same thing. But it’s not exactly something you can go around asking people about without causing the very panic I’ve been trying to avoid.”

  “True. And you say Emma believes that LuAnne’s husband is involved?”

  “Fixated, I think would be the best term.”

  Paul winced. “That’s bad. I only met Tom Matthews once, at the diner. Seems nice enough. But seeming isn’t being.”

  “I can’t believe you never told me LuAnne was married,” Kate said, pouting a little.

  “I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll tell you every time I find out someone is married,” Paul said, smiling.

  He paused, then admitted, “This is a hard one to figure out.”

  “Tell me about it. If Jordan Harnett would only call me back, I might be able to cross Matt off my list.”

  “Who?”

  Kate told Paul about the newspaper article she’d found online. “I’ve left messages on her answering machine, but that’s all I can do.”

  Paul took her hand in his and held it as they sat in silence for a moment, a happy, companionable silence, and then Kate asked, “What do you think about the scarf?”

  “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’m inclined to believe that Amanda received it as a present, but that means someone stole it.”

  “I know,” Kate agreed.

  “The question is, who?”

  “Junius assured me that he didn’t give it to her. And she says she knows it wasn’t Joe. But I can’t think of anyone else who would have given it to her.”

  Paul sighed. “Unfortunately, no matter which way you look at it, somebody has committed a crime. But we have to be very careful about accusations. And I know you have been,” he added as Kate started to protest. “But even speculation has its dangers. It’s all too easy to let our personal feelings about someone influence our suspicions.”

  “Like with Matt,” Kate offered.

  Paul nodded.

  Or Renee, Kate could have said. She didn’t tell Paul about her fleeting thought that Renee might have stolen the scarf and sent it to Amanda to set her up. Kate thought about it again now, carefully, and dismissed it. Renee was a busybody and a gossip, but she was no thief. But Kate knew it had been her own difficult relationship with Renee that had made even the thought possible.

  What had Amanda said about the card that came with the scarf? Amanda was going to show it to her, but it wasn’t in her purse at the hospital. It was in Amanda’s bureau drawer at her home. All Kate had to do the next time she went over was to take a peek at it. She could make sure it existed, and she could see the handwriting . . .

  “Kate?”

  She jumped and shifted her attention back to Paul.

  Paul was looking at her closely. “Where did you drift off to?”

  “Oh, I was thinking of how people don’t write much any more. Not like in the old days. I’ll bet Amanda still has all the letters Joe ever wrote to her, and vice versa.” She smiled at Paul, then breathed a sigh of relief when the telephone rang.

  “But we do have new ways to communicate,” Paul said as he went to the kitchen to answer it.

  “Bobby,” he said, laughing.

  It was Bobby Evans, pastor of First Baptist, and Kate knew that conversation would take a while. Those two could talk for hours about the most arcane things. Kate decided to go to her studio and get some work done on her sun catchers.

  Much later, Kate straightened up from her cutting table and stretched. Her back was aching from leaning over for so long cutting glass. She had two more Band-Aids on her fingers than she’d started with earlier in the day, from nicking herself on sharp edges. It was an occupational hazard of working with stained glass.

  She stretched again, moving slowly in all directions, then she walked over to her drawing table and looked down at the Narnia sketch. It was almost done. The Noah’s ark idea came back to her, so she sat down and drew a large oval with a boat in the center. But the boat wasn’t quite right. I’ll have to do some research on that. Just for fun, she doodled a couple of animals that she thought children might like: a camel, then a zebra. Then she drew an armadillo. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t t
ake the Texas out of the girl, she thought, laughing. She didn’t know how popular that one would be, but she liked it. Maybe I’ll make a couple for Ethan and Hannah, she thought. Remind them they’ve got a Texas grandmother.

  Kate yawned. She set aside her sketches, got up, and left the studio, turning out the lights behind her. As she passed Paul’s study, she could hear him rustling papers.

  She wandered into the living room, sat down on the couch, and picked up the remote. Beside it, on the coffee table, was the book on autism she’d checked out of the library. What if Matt wasn’t autistic? What if Junius was right not to believe it? What if he’d been telling her the truth? Kate pursed her lips. But what if I’m right? What if Matt did have Asperger’s, and Junius was lying? And if Junius was lying about Matt, he could easily have been lying about the scarf, and . . .

  Kate leaped up and went back to her studio, where she’d put the Faith Freezer Program schedule she’d worked out. She pulled out the schedule from her file cabinet and looked at it carefully. She remembered Renee telling her that the blank days, the days when nobody was scheduled to deliver meals to Ada Blount, were days when the prep staff made the deliveries themselves. She looked at the blanks and noticed that each time Junius had delivered the meals the day before. And afterward, it was often a week before Junius was scheduled again. That might not mean anything, but then again . . .

  Kate looked at the clock. A quarter to ten. She wished she could call Livvy just to talk, but she didn’t dare. One thing Kate had learned the hard way was that people in a small town went to bed much earlier than people in a big city. Most people in Copper Mill were sound asleep by ten o’clock, and many were up by five. She’d have to wait. Kate folded up the schedule and put it in her purse.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next day, Kate went over to Amanda’s to pick up her mail. She let herself in and picked up the cards that had fallen on the doormat, set them on the hall table, and then went into Amanda’s bedroom. She opened the bureau drawer and found Amanda’s wallet and checkbook, just as Amanda had said, sitting on top of some neatly folded handkerchiefs and gloves. But that was all. There was no card.