“I don’t know,” Claire said thoughtfully. “You were trying to protect yourself, maybe. But when you almost lost the chance to know me, you realized you’d held onto those fears and that resentment, to protect yourself from what was good. I’ve done the same thing. It makes no sense why any of us would do that, but… it’s a trick. It’s a lie we believe, designed to keep the bad in, and the good out. It’s not for our good at all.”
“That’s rather profound,” Marlena commented, giving her sister another look.
“Like I said, I’ve done it myself. I’m determined not to ever do it again. Do you… want to have lunch?” she asked, glancing at the clock. “Alec and I bring ours, but we could go pick something up today, instead, if you want.”
Marlena’s eyes were flooded with disapproval.
“You and Alec are back together?”
“Alec and I are neighbors. We’re also good friends,” Claire calmly replied, though her blood threatened to boil.
“Is that all?” Marlena asked shortly.
“Yes,” Claire answered cautiously. It was the truth. For now. So…
“Good,” Marlena said firmly. “Because you can do much better.”
Claire’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“I couldn’t possibly do better than Alec,” she said with finality. “I’m lucky to have him as a friend. I’ll jump at the chance to be more than that, the next time he offers it.”
Marlena looked back at her disdainfully.
“I certainly hope you’re joking. Claire, you can do so much better than a mechanic. What about him?” she said quietly, nodding toward Mark. “He seems nice. You’ll certainly be safe enough, plus he’s getting an education. According to the paper, he’s in graduate school.”
Claire gave Marlena a hard look.
“What you told me about Alec on Sunday was incredibly misleading. You knew the truth, but chose to keep several very relevant facts to yourself. Did you say those things because you look down on him? You didn’t want your little sister embarrassing you, by dating a mechanic?”
Marlena crossed her arms again, and turned away.
“You can hardly fault me for wanting better for you.”
“Yes, Marlena, I can very much fault you! For being ridiculous, for being hurtful, dishonest, untruthful, judgmental, and unchristian! That’s right, Marlena! Your attitude is positively unchristlike! You go to church, I know you do. And do you claim to be a believer?”
Marlena couldn’t look more shocked if Claire slapped her across the face. She rallied with difficulty.
“Yes, I’m a believer,” she snapped.
“Then you’ve got some repenting to do, sister,” Claire retorted, her eyes blazing. “What command did Jesus give believers in John chapter thirteen? He said to love one another just as He loved us. He said by our love and unselfish concern for one another, everyone would know that we are His disciples. Well I’m not seeing it, Marlena! You’re looking down on Alec because of his profession, and embarrassed at the thought of your sister dating him. You don’t have a servant’s heart. Have you forgotten that those who exalt themselves will be humbled? And those who are humble will be exalted? Or maybe you never knew. Well read the bible, it’s in there! Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, for goodness’ sake! That was a job too lowly for even a Jewish slave, it was reserved for Gentiles! But that’s the example Jesus gave. No Christian is above another. But even if that isn’t said over and over in the New Testament, what profit do you gain by looking down on Alec? He owns his own business. He’s successful, do you not understand that? He cares about people, apologizes when he’s wrong, and he’s forgiving. He’s had reason to be upset with me, but he didn’t cling to that, he forgave me, and he’d probably forgive you too, if he had any idea how horrid you’re being. If you’re still looking down on him because of his blue collar, then you’re choosing to be deluded. His robe is as white as yours and mine.”
Emotion washed in waves across Marlena’s face at Claire’s onslaught. By the time she was finished, her older sister’s expression was pensive, rather than angry. They sat in silence for several minutes, as she thought that over.
“You’re right,” Marlena sighed.
“Well—duh,” Claire rolled her eyes a little, and Marlena looked as though something was funny.
“Is it common for little sisters to know more than their big sisters?” she asked. Claire gave her a sideways look, and her boiling blood cooled a bit.
“Of course,” she replied, and Marlena smiled ruefully.
“Maybe if we grew up together, you would’ve straightened me out a long time ago.”
She looked wistful, and Claire’s heart responded.
“Well I’m here now,” Claire replied. “I’ve heard little sisters meddle in big sister’s lives, too, so be forewarned. I’ve got lots of lost years to make up for.”
“I’ve heard little sisters can also be annoying,” Marlena said, and her smile reached her eyes.
Claire shrugged.
“I’m fine with that,” she declared, and Marlena laughed and rolled her eyes.
“I can tell I’m opening myself up to a world of abuse, but… would you care to have dinner some night this week? And… perhaps you would invite Alec, too.”
Claire’s eyes lit with satisfaction, and she smiled.
“That sounds really great. I’ll ask him.”
“Good,” Marlena nodded, and glanced at her watch. “I’m meeting Rick later… I suppose I should go.”
“Alright,” Claire said, as they stood and headed toward the door. “We’ll get together and look at the albums, too.”
“I’d love that,” Marlena said. She stopped in front of the door, and the sisters hugged.
There was a knock, and Claire glanced at the monitor.
“It’s Alec,” she said for Mark’s sake. He put down the sword.
Claire swiped her ID and opened the door.
“Come in!” she smiled, and so did Alec.
He also hugged her, then his eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of Marlena. He didn’t expect to see her here at all, but… she looked more human than he remembered ever seeing her.
“Alec, I’m… sorry,” Marlena said hesitantly. “I intentionally misled Claire, and I’m very sorry. I’m glad to see I didn’t cause lasting injury.”
Alec stared at her briefly, then snapped himself out of it.
“Thank you, Marlena. I accept your apology. And no, there’s been no permanent damage done.”
“Perhaps you and Claire will join Rick and me for dinner some evening this week,” Marlena suggested.
“Sure,” Alec replied. “Let Claire know when.”
“I’ll call you,” Marlena said, and hugged Claire. She sent a ‘nice to meet you’ in Mark’s direction, then said goodbye to Alec and Claire. They stood in the doorway and watched until Marlena was safely inside her SUV, and back on the road.
“What… did you do to her?” Alec asked in amazement, as they returned to the sorting room.
“Nothing at all, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m starving,” she said, as they walked toward the breakroom.
“Been hitting the jam again, or you don’t want to divulge sisterly secrets?” Alec smiled.
“I’ve had no jam, but the day is young,” she replied.
“Then I won’t ask again. But… congratulations, whatever it was.”
“Mark, are you having lunch today?” Claire called. He set his armful of donate items on the appropriate shelf, and glanced at the wall clock.
“Yeah… sure, I guess.”
“Come on, then,” she said, slowing her pace. Alec wondered why, until they reached the breakroom.
Many of the museum’s employees were there, including Mr. Lochlan, and a huge cake with Congratulations written across it. A plastic figure in a white karate gi, a toy wrench, and a white plastic truck, decorated the rest of the cake.
“No way,” Alec laughed, and so did Mark.
“It’s perfect,” Mark smiled, as the rest of the museum employees took turns shaking their hands, hugging, congratulating, and admiring, as the case might be.
Everyone wanted to hear the story over and over, beginning with Claire and the Blue Lightning’s encounter on Saturday night. There was much speculation regarding… why? What was the man’s motivation? Why was he so determined to gain entrance to the sorting room?
“Although the physicians expect the man to recover to some extent, the officers haven’t been able to get much out of him,” Mr. Lochlan told them. “He had no identification.”
“Why?” Gina wondered. “If he got caught… which he did, of course… what good would it do to keep his identity hidden?”
Maybe because he was working for someone, and his identity could be used to track back to his employer, Claire thought. She and Alec glanced at each other. She had a feeling he was thinking the same thing, but neither said it out loud.
“He has fingers, though,” Mark pointed out. “If he has a record, the police already have his identity. IAFIS only takes a couple of hours to return a match.”
“I thought it took six to eight weeks,” Joe, the unofficial tour guide, said.
“For latent prints,” Mark clarified. “The police have all ten fingers. If the guy’s in the system, they have the results.”
“Well, they have him, anyway,” Tammy said with grim satisfaction. “That’s better than an identification and a manhunt.”
“They have the video which captured everything in full HD, also,” Mr. Lochlan added.
“That’s justice for you,” chuckled Phil, the head custodian. “If he didn’t go and smash the old camera, it wouldn’t be.”
Everyone found immense satisfaction in that.
Lunch ran longer than usual, but eventually museum responsibilities did call. Mr. Lochlan was anxious to get back to his wife, who was doing well, but still on bedrest. Alec had work to do if he intended to have Claire’s Packard Caribbean travel-ready in time for her friend’s wedding.
Claire walked him out, then she and Mark returned to work.
What an adorable set of china candlesticks, Claire thought. A delicate rose and leaf pattern was painted on the ivory background. They’d go beautifully with her infamous clock. Not that it would make sense to have candles on a small end table, right beside a lamp. They would look lovely on the bookcase, though…
“The way you looked when you saw your sister on the monitor… I think that’s how I look sometimes, when I hear from my older brother,” Mark commented. Claire set the candlesticks aside, and looked up curiously.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” he replied, as he carefully cleaned a tiffany-style lamp. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”
“You’d have to be deaf—or wearing immersive headphones—not to,” Claire acknowledged.
“You didn’t grow up together?” he asked.
“No. We have different mothers. Our father died when I was three. Marlena was nine.”
“That’s rough,” Mark sympathized.
“It is. But my grandmother left me her house, along with so many photo albums, and a letter, and… so I feel like I’m getting to know the family I never knew about,” Claire said. “How about you? What’s your story?”
“My brother and I have different mothers. Our father had visitation, though. So my brother stayed with us every other weekend, and alternate holidays.”
“That must’ve been miserable,” Claire frowned. “Whether you liked him, or not. You’d either dread seeing him, or dread him leaving. Unless you were completely indifferent. I guess that’s possible. But… you dreaded seeing him, and were kind of suspicious, if you looked the way I did when I saw Marlena on the monitor.”
“Yeah… how did you do that?” he wondered, his gaze searching.
“Do what?” she wondered.
“You saw what was wrong, and you laid it on the line with her. I’ve tried that, but… my brother acts like he doesn’t even hear me.”
“Is your brother a Christian?” Claire asked.
“No. He’s not,” Mark said with certainty.
“That’s too bad,” Claire sympathized. “If Marlena wasn’t… or if she chose to harden her heart against the truth… then nothing I said would’ve made any difference. But… what about you?”
“What about me?” Mark wondered.
“You said you go to church, but you haven’t been in a while. Why?”
Mark gave that some thought before answering.
“I guess I’ve just been too busy.”
“Alright, then. Are you a Christian?” she asked. He hesitated, then answered.
“Yes. I am.”
“You feel like there’s something separating you from God,” Claire perceived. “Don’t you realize it doesn’t have to be that way? You’re the one who can change it.”
Mark glanced at her and grimaced a little. She sat on the edge of the table she half-cleared, and waited.
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“The truth doesn’t depend on feelings. They fluctuate. The truth never does.”
“I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what I meant,” he said. He looked a little frustrated, but more at his situation, than at her.
“If it’s not your feelings that are holding up that wall, what is?” she persisted. Mark’s eyes were serious as he sat across from Claire on a pedestal which once held… something else. Claire couldn’t remember what.
“Have you ever been in a situation where it doesn’t seem like there is a right thing to do?” Mark asked cautiously.
“Yes,” she promptly replied.
He waited for her to say more. She didn’t.
“Well—what did you do? How do you decide?”
“I trust God with the results, then choose the course of action that honors Him,” Claire acknowledged. “I forget frequently, and make mistakes, don’t get me wrong. But doing that every time, and trusting Him to clear up, or use the mess that will ensue for His purposes, would save me a lot of trouble.”
Mark frowned as he mulled it over.
“That sounds great, but…”
“Your problem isn’t that you don’t know what the right thing to do is,” Claire stated. He gave her a rueful look.
“It was, until you said all that. But… it’s not that easy.”
“And so, you feel distance,” Claire empathized. “I’ve been there. Probably will be again, wondering which of several options is the least wrong. I hope I remember this conversation when that happens.”
Mark sighed.
“I didn’t know I had trust issues. With God, I mean.”
“Most of us probably do, otherwise we’d be filled with peace and joy at all times,” Claire pointed out. “Think of the trust Jesus had in God, to undergo the torture He did. Not just on the cross, but taking our sins on Himself. I can’t even imagine how horrible it was for Him who knew no sin, to become sin. Never before was He separated from God, and I can’t even fathom that level of suffering. Yet He trusted God, and endured it. The apostles had that trust too, and because of it, they endured worse than I’m ever likely to, and they kept the peace that I tend to lose for far less distracting reasons.”
“They did, but… they knew God had a purpose behind it. The salvation of humanity, and spreading the gospel.”
“True. But are we not seeking to become sanctified, out of our love for Him? I know this is hard, Mark, I’m not trying to say it’s easy, and minimize whatever you’re grappling with. It must be bad, you look like the fate of the world rests on this. But every trial we go through is an opportunity to grow closer to God, and closer to reflecting Jesus with our lives. There’s purpose behind it. All of it.”
“It’s hard to believe, being in the middle of it,” Mark admitted.
“It takes faith,” Claire agreed. Mark nod
ded, and slowly returned to cleaning the lamp. Claire watched him for several seconds. “I don’t know what else I can do to help… but I’ll be praying about it. Whatever it is.”
Mark nodded, and smiled a little.
“Thanks.”
“And you know where to find me, if you want to talk more. About this, or difficult sibling relationships.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “I may take you up on that sometime.”
Mark got back to work. The subject appeared to be closed for the time being, so Claire returned to clearing off the table on which she sat.
Did she help? She really hoped so. Mark’s expression was reflective, which meant… he was either thinking of that, or something else.
If he wasn’t thinking about it now, he would be at some point. And, if he needed to hear anything else she had to say, he’d let her know.
Comforting herself with that thought, she remembered she told him she’d pray. So she did, entrusting Mark and his troubles to God’s hands.
That burden lifted, she turned her attention back to work.
Chapter 20
Through the open kitchen window, Claire heard the birds scatter. She spun, leaped over Herschel, and ran for the backdoor. She threw it open and smiled triumphantly at Alec, who had one foot on the steps.
“Beat me again,” he smiled, as she held the door wide for him. “Although, if you didn’t, I’d worry.”
“Why?” she wondered, as they took their places at the table, where the mugs of coffee were almost cool enough to enjoy.
“The only time you haven’t met me at the door, is when you were upset,” he replied.
“I was also lost in thought, wondering when the FBI would contact me. Now I’m wondering if they will. If I was upset, with nothing else to think about, I’d probably be pounding on your door.”
“That’s better than pretending nothing’s wrong, when something obviously is. I think. I’ll try not to give you a reason to test that hypothesis.”
“Wise man,” she replied.
“I have news,” he said mysteriously.
“Then you truly are wise. What is it?”
“The police finally released the name of the guy who assaulted you last Monday. It’s Bill Heath, not that that’s likely to mean anything to you.”
Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Page 34