To Thine Own Self Be True

by Judy Clemens

  “About Wolf and Mandy?” Lenny asked.

  “Yeah. I want to check out Artists for Freedom and that senate bill.”

  Lucy looked up. “You really think it could have something to do with it all?”

  I thought of the skinheads. They would’ve been the top of my suspect list, if they hadn’t been in jail. Since they were out of commission, I had to look at the lesser possibilities. Someone had committed these acts.

  “You never know. Thanks again for lunch.”

  Lucy smiled. “I don’t mind being the house chef.”

  I walked out to the living room, where the computer was free of game players. I took a seat and logged on. Lenny appeared at my shoulder.

  “What?” I said. I really didn’t want to avoid direct questions about what I was keeping from him. But he surprised me.

  “Any chance you could watch Tess for an hour or so this evening while I give Lucy her Christmas present?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. When did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking we could stay here till milking’s done, then take off for a bit.”

  “Sounds fine. Abe’s coming over, but that doesn’t matter. He always likes to see Tess.”

  “Thanks.” He went back to the kitchen.

  I found AskJeeves.com and typed in the name of the senate bill, getting dozens of hits but only a few that pertained to my interests. I modified the search, putting quotes around “PA House Bill No. 752.” Now I got only a dozen hits, most of them a well-distributed commentary by a guy at BAEzine, also known as BodyArt.com, an online magazine. Reading it was an education. He took the bill itself, broke it down, and explained the bill’s weaknesses. There were a lot of them, most of which I’d already heard from Rusty and Mickey. I also found the bill itself, in all its unreadable prose. I printed it out, along with the BAE commentary, since I’d left the Spurgeons’ copy at their house.

  There were hits for a couple of articles mentioning Artists for Freedom and their work for the tattoo and body piercing community. Mostly the articles centered on Dennis Bergman, the lawyer/tattoo artist who headed up the lobby. There were photos of him, his shop, and his customers. But I found one last article from a small rally the lobby held in Harrisburg when the senate had last met. A raggedy bunch of protestors, and right out in front was a familiar face. Mandy’s. My throat tightened at the shot of her waving a poster proclaiming, “Body Art is Beautiful.” The photographer had caught her at her best, her eyes sparkling, her body tall and strong. I printed it out.

  A search for Senator Trevor Farley found more hits than I could ever go through, but I skimmed the first few pages of sites. Lots to do with his campaign, his family, even his cat, for God’s sake. I narrowed the search using his name with the bill number, and came up with a few articles.

  “Finding anything?” Lucy peered over my shoulder.

  “Some. I’m just now getting to the senator.”

  “Senator Farley? Isn’t he the Democrat people were claiming acted more Republican? Or was it the other way around?”

  I skimmed the first article. “I think he’s a Democrat. Which makes it even more interesting that he’d go for a bill like this. There’s gotta be somebody else pulling the strings.”

  “Or something about his life we don’t know.”

  I went on to the next article, but only found more of his rhetoric. Nothing about his reasons for pushing such a bill.

  I sat back. “Who would know this kind of stuff?”

  “Have you asked Abe?”

  “I doubt he’d be up on it.”

  “But he might know who is.”

  I thought about that. “Good idea. I’ll ask him tonight.”

  “What about the other guy?” Lucy asked.

  “What other guy?”

  “The lawyer. The one who started Artists for Freedom.”

  “What about him?”

  “Think he might be worth contacting?

  I stared at her. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

  She patted my shoulder. “Because you’re too close to it all, and you’re burning yourself out thinking about it. Now come on, take a break.”

  “Let me look him up first.”

  She sighed and left while I checked out some specifics on Dennis Bergman. He posted his reasons for starting Artists for Freedom—everything you would expect, from the Bill of Rights to personal expression. I also came up with an e-mail address, which I immediately clicked. There was no way I’d find him by phone on Christmas, even if a number had been listed, but lots of people check their e-mail no matter where they are or what day it is. I hoped he was one of them. I wrote out a quick letter telling him of my interest, and sent it on its way.

  A twinge shot from my shoulder up into my head, and I rolled my neck, realizing Nick’s backrub had worn off. Lucy was right. I needed to take a break if I was going to be of any use to anybody.

  So Lucy, Lenny, Tess, and I hung out in the living room, where we played games and snacked on party mix and Christmas cookies. Then Lenny and I each sneaked in a nap while Tess and Lucy watched “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I love Jimmy Stewart, but after seeing the movie every year since I was old enough to notice, I really didn’t need to catch the ending.

  After my nap I glanced at the clock to see it was almost five. Just about milking time. It struck me that Nick should be getting close to home. I wondered if he’d call when he got there, or if I’d be left assuming he’d made it. I had to figure his sisters would call if he didn’t arrive.

  I put on my milking attire, trying to convince myself things were now back to normal. And that that was a good thing.

  Queenie had yet to be convinced, too, and when waiting by the parlor door didn’t produce Nick, she dropped into her corner with a huff and sulked. I couldn’t help being a bit annoyed with her for missing him and giving me the cold shoulder. It wasn’t my fault, after all, that he’d gone back to Virginia.

  I wished each cow a not-quite-heartfelt Merry Christmas, but most of them didn’t respond. They endured the process with their usual patience, and soon Lucy and I were headed back into the warmth of the house.

  “Anybody call?” I asked, stomping off my boots.

  Lenny looked at me. “You could’ve heard the phone in the barn, right?”

  “Well. Yeah.”

  He snorted. “Then I guess you know.”

  I sank onto the sofa. “I was hoping the detective might’ve found out something.”

  He looked at me. “And hoping someone else might call to say he got home?”

  I pulled up my sleeve to check out my half-tattoo and avoid Lenny’s smirk. “I’m sure he’s there by now. And aren’t you guys supposed to go somewhere?”

  Lucy showered and changed, and Lenny helped her shrug into her coat.

  “Take your time,” I said. “We’ll be fine.” I glanced at Tess. “Tess looks pretty beat from our late Christmas Eve. She’ll be snoozing pretty soon, I bet.”

  Lucy eyed her daughter. “I don’t know. Maybe I should—”

  “Oh, Mooom,” Tess said. “I can go to bed by myself.”

  Lenny and I laughed, and Lucy grinned. “Okay, pumpkin. But in case I don’t see you, it’s been a very merry Christmas.” She kissed her on the forehead, waved to me, and they left. I couldn’t help but think of Billy, whose mother wouldn’t be bidding him a Christmas goodnight.

  “Want a leftover turkey sandwich?” I asked Tess. “I’m starved.”

  “Can I help make it?”

  We were spreading the mayonnaise when there was a knock at the door.

  “Abe?” Tess said excitedly.

  “Probably.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  I watched from the kitchen as she ran to the door and flung it open.

  Abe grinned and reached down to hug her. “Merry Christmas.”

  “You, too!” she said. “Want a sandwich?”

  He gr
oaned and patted his stomach. “No room at the inn.” He shut the door and smiled at me. “Supper?”

  “Yup. Mind hanging out while we make it?”

  He sat with us and talked while we finished the sandwiches and ate them with chips and hot tea. A perfect Christmas supper.

  Soon after Tess’ food had disappeared, her head began to loll onto her chest.

  “Uh oh,” Abe said, laughing.

  “Come on, sweets,” I said to Tess. “Time to hit the hay. Say goodnight to Abe.”

  Without even a token protest, she hugged him goodnight and headed toward her room. I followed her up the stairs to make sure she was awake enough to brush her teeth and get into her jammies. She shuffled to her room and snuggled under the covers.

  “Sing me a song?” she asked.

  I grimaced. “You sure you want to end your day that way?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She closed her eyes.

  I got through “Jingle Bells” without butchering it too much, then tiptoed out. If Tess wasn’t asleep, she was close.

  Back downstairs, Abe waited on the couch, shuffling through the papers I’d printed out that afternoon. I took a seat beside him and put my feet up on the coffee table.

  “What’s all this?” he asked.

  “A bill that’s trying to restrict tattoo artists and body piercers. Government wants to control them.”

  “How would they do that?”

  “Make artists go to the extremes—doctor’s signatures saying they’re free of blood diseases, pleasing decor, dumb stuff that makes customers no safer than they were before.”

  “So why the bill?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Trevor Farley has a bee in his over-sized bonnet, and I don’t know what it is. Any ideas who to ask?”

  He considered it. “Have you tried calling his office?”

  “You think they’d tell me anything? No reasons have been printed anywhere, and you know the media—they’d snap up the info as soon as the words were uttered.”

  “You’re right. And most likely his office is out till after New Year’s, anyway. I’ll see if I can come up with a name for you.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  He studied me. “Why the intense interest? Because of your tattoos?”

  I stared at him. “You don’t know?”

  “Don’t know what?”

  “A friend of mine was murdered the other day. The same day I went to get this.” I thrust my wrist toward him.

  He put a hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t put together the bill and her murder. This is her?” He held out the picture I’d printed out of Mandy at the protest.

  I nodded.

  “Pretty,” he said. He put down the picture and looked at my wrist. “‘How’? I guess it’s supposed to say ‘Howie’?”

  “You guess right. My artist and his wife disappeared in the middle of it, and now he’s missing and she’s dead.”

  “I know. I saw it on the news. Plus, Nick told me about it at church. It’s awful. I’m sorry I haven’t been more sensitive about it. I didn’t realize you knew them so well.”

  “I didn’t really know them. I mean, not well enough, from everything I’m learning about them.”

  He squinted at me. “But for some reason you’re feeling responsible.”

  I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes. “When they went to the back room I fell asleep.”

  “And?”

  “While I was napping, Wolf was abducted and Mandy was bashed over the head and left to die behind the shop.”

  He stared at me. “And you didn’t hear any of it.”

  “Mandy had just turned on some music. I hadn’t thought it was that loud, but I guess it masked whatever noises they made back there.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I woke up twenty minutes later, looked around outside and in, couldn’t find them, and let myself out. Mandy died lying ten feet from where I stood at the back door, and I didn’t see her.”

  He was quiet for a few moments, then said, “You can’t do this to yourself.”

  I pushed myself off the couch and strode to the window, where I looked out at the snow, brilliant under my dusk-to-dawn light. “Why not? I took a nap while Mandy was freezing to death. I could’ve saved her.”

  “You didn’t kill her, Stella. Someone else knocked her out. Someone else left her there.”

  I closed my eyes. “But I—”

  “You didn’t do it. How were you to know she was out there?”

  “—I fell asleep.”

  Abe put the papers on the coffee table and turned toward me. “You were tired. You were lying in a comfortable chair. You had no reason to think something horrific was happening. Why would you?”

  I leaned my forehead against the cool window. I had no answers. There wasn’t any reason to expect it.

  Abe got up from the couch and came to stand beside me, leaning his back against the wall. “Does feeling guilty about this stem back to feeling guilty about Howie?”

  I stopped breathing. When I started again, it felt like someone had my chest in a vice grip.

  “Because you know his death wasn’t your fault, either,” Abe said. “Someone else killed both of them, Stella. You didn’t.”

  Headlights flashed up the lane, and I watched dully as Lenny’s truck parked outside the door. He stepped around to the passenger door and opened it for Lucy, hugging her as he swung her down from the seat. I backed away from the window while they came up the sidewalk and opened the door.

  “Abe!” Lucy said. She stepped forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “How lovely to see you.” Her face glowed, and Abe smiled down at her.

  “Abe,” Lenny said, holding his hand out. Lenny was glowing, too, as he and Abe shook hands, and I squinted at him suspiciously.

  “What are you two so happy about?” I said.

  Lucy peeked up at Lenny, then thrust her left hand toward me. Her ring finger was circled by a band of gold, sporting a sparkly diamond.

  I blinked.

  “Wow,” Abe said.

  “What do you think?” Lenny asked.

  I blinked again. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yup. We’re getting hitched next spring.”

  I cleared my throat. “I guess we really won’t be needing that extra apartment.”

  Lucy’s smile faltered.

  “Congratulations,” Abe said, glancing at me. “What a great Christmas present for both of you.”

  “Yes,” I said quickly. “It’s wonderful. I’m very happy for you both. You deserve it.”

  Lucy’s smile came back full force. “I’m very happy, too.”

  “And I gotta agree,” Lenny said. He gave Lucy another hug. “But it’s getting late, and my fiancée needs to get to bed. She about fell asleep on the way home.”

  Lucy giggled, and I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. Lenny helped Lucy off with her coat, and Abe and I discreetly looked away while they said goodnight.

  “Goodnight, Stella. Abe,” Lenny said.

  “’Night,” I said.

  Abe waved. “Goodnight.”

  Lucy watched out the window while Lenny lumbered down to the truck and pulled out of the drive. When she turned around, her eyes sparkled.

  “Goodnight, you two. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Tess!” With that, she practically skipped to the stairway and disappeared behind the door.

  I stepped back and leaned against the window sill, holding my arms over my stomach.

  Abe was silent.

  I tilted my head back and looked at the ceiling. “People keep leaving me, Abe.”

  After a minute or so, he said, “Nick went home?”

  I pushed away from the window and walked over to the sofa, sinking down onto it. “After dinner today. His mom and sisters wanted him home for Christmas.”

  “That’s understandable.” Abe came over and p
erched on the edge of the chair, catty-corner from me. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “How did you leave things?”

  I thought back to the kiss the night before. Then to the way we’d said good-bye. “He wants me to go down to see him in Virginia.”

  “Good.”

  “Abe, it’s not good. When am I going to do that? I can’t leave Lucy here by herself in the middle of winter.”

  Abe sat back in his chair. After a few moments he said, “Missy and I are seeing each other again.”

  Several months earlier, Abe’s then-girlfriend Missy had gone home to New York, leaving Abe in Pennsylvania because she thought he wanted to be with me. He thought so, too, at the time. So did I. We were all wrong.

  “Is it serious?” I asked.

  “I didn’t get her a ring for Christmas, but I’d consider it for next year.”

  I chewed on my lip and watched the glowing embers, dying in the fireplace. “Well, that’s nice.”

  “Yes. It is.” He looked at me. “I guess I’m another person who’s leaving you.”

  “No. You already left.”

  “Stella.” He sat forward and grabbed my hands. “It’s not about you. We all love you. Me, Lucy, Lenny. Howie. But life happens. If you don’t want to be left alone, you’re going to have to make some choices.”

  “I can’t leave my farm and move to Virginia. And I can’t expect Nick to leave his business to come up here.”

  Abe let go of my hands. “Well, then I guess you’re stuck. And you just might end up alone.”

  I looked up at the sharp edge in his voice.

  “Stella,” he said, “look at you. It’s Christmas. You have a great farmhand and little girl who love you. One of your best friends is spending his evening here talking to you, and you have a man who stayed as long as he could over the holidays before speeding home to be with his family for a few hours on Christmas. What more do you want?”

  I was silent.

  Abe stood up. “I gotta go. It’s late and I’m headed back to New York tomorrow to have Christmas with Missy’s family. She didn’t come down to PA with me because her sister’s due to have a baby any moment and she didn’t want to risk being snowed in down here.” He walked to the foyer, where he grabbed his coat from the closet.