When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

  Ray’s man-of-God facade abruptly fell away. “In that case, I suppose we’d have to see what the courts have to say on the matter. I’ve spoken to a lawyer, and he feels the girl has a claim in her own right, which means your husband’s money isn’t yours to dole out as you see fit. Judges tend to frown on strangers poking their noses where they don’t belong. Family should look after family.”

  “Except you refused to look after her!” Christy-Lynn shot back, eyeing him with open contempt. “Now, suddenly, you’re willing to bear your sister’s sins dutifully. Forgive me if I find your sudden compassion suspicious.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up slowly. “The Lord has shown me the error of my ways, Mrs. Ludlow. Like Saul on the road to Damascus.”

  “Spare me the Sunday school lesson, Reverend. And know that I meant every word I said just now. Iris will be taken care of, if it means I have to pay for every barrette and ice-cream cone myself, but my attorney will make sure you never touch a dime of Iris’s money. Still, if you want to go to court and air all of this publicly, I’m happy to take my chances.”

  Rhetta looked at her with wide eyes, visibly horrified by the prospect of a court battle. But Ray seemed to be considering the words carefully. After a moment, he cleared his throat, his expression back to the chilly shrewdness Christy-Lynn had glimpsed earlier. “Perhaps an agreement might be reached. A sort of . . . compromise?”

  “A compromise?” Christy-Lynn echoed warily, wishing she had listened to Wade’s warning about unscrupulous relatives. She had misjudged the reverend—or at least misjudged his motives. He wasn’t just a pious ass; he was a sharp and cunning bastard.

  She’d been a fool not to see it or to think a handful of papers could right all the wrongs in Iris Rawlings’s life. Poverty was hard on a child, but it didn’t compare with the pain of being invisible, unwanted, unloved. And for Ray Rawlings, Iris was all three.

  Christy-Lynn fought down a shudder of revulsion. He was watching her now, through narrowed eyes, trying to read her thoughts and planning his next move. “I might—” He paused, clearing his throat, then flashed a wheedling smile. “That is, my wife and I might be open to some form of compensation.”

  “You mean money,” Christy-Lynn flung back.

  “I mean a token of goodwill. Iris is, after all, the only child of my dear departed sister. Surely that’s worth some small consideration, a modest sum agreed on by both parties—paid discreetly, of course—for the loss of our darling little niece?”

  Christy-Lynn stood speechless, still clutching a confused and terrified Iris. Rhetta looked equally speechless, though not quite surprised by her grandson’s suggestion. “Why do I have the feeling this was where this was heading all along? You knew I’d never give you control of the trust, so you put on this little show, hoping I’d pay you to go away. Am I right?”

  Ray dipped his head, not quite an acknowledgment but close enough. “Come now, Mrs. Ludlow, it isn’t the means but the end that matters. This way everyone is happy. Rhetta keeps the girl and the bulk of the money, and I go away a few dollars richer for my sacrifice.”

  Christy-Lynn was sickened to realize she was actually considering the proposal. “How do I know that’s the end of it, that you’ll just . . . go away?”

  Ray smiled, exposing small, sharp teeth. “I’m a man of God, Mrs. Ludlow.”

  It was Wade’s turn to react. He stepped past Christy-Lynn and grabbed Ray by the arm.

  “Why don’t we finish this outside, Reverend?”

  “Get your hands off me!”

  Christy-Lynn took an abrupt step forward. “Wade, don’t!”

  But Wade was already shoving the good reverend toward the door, his expression one of barely suppressed fury. If she didn’t step in, there was a good chance Ray was going to end up in an ambulance and Wade in the back of a police car. By the time she handed Iris off to Rhetta and caught up, Wade was already jerking the reverend down the steps and out into the yard.

  Ray’s face was the color of a beetroot, his arms swinging wildly without landing a single blow. “You’ll end up in jail for this!”

  To Christy-Lynn’s surprise, the very pregnant Mrs. Rawlings suddenly emerged from the family van, loping toward the fray as fast as her swollen belly would allow. “Let him be!” she bellowed sharply. “That’s a man of God you’re assaulting!”

  But no one was listening. Nor were the words spewing from Ray’s mouth particularly godly as he continued to flail, spittle flying like a rabid dog as he tried to shake Wade’s hold. As far as Christy-Lynn could tell, Wade had yet to throw a punch, his intent to restrain rather than harm. She was almost disappointed.

  Finally, Wade gave Ray’s arm one last vicious yank, releasing him so abruptly he nearly toppled over. “You’re a big man,” he said through gritted teeth as Ray stood wiping flecks of spit from his chin. “Big on threats. Big on bullying. So yes, by all means, let’s go to court. But I don’t think a custody battle was ever your intent. In fact, I think that’s the last thing you want. You see I’ve done a little homework, Reverend. There’s a rumor—though I’m betting it’s more than just a rumor—about a certain cheerleader from Riddlesville High School. Her name is Tina Gibson, a member of your congregation, I believe. Sings in the youth choir. Ring any bells?”

  Ray dropped his arms, suddenly still.

  Ellen took a step forward, a hand on her belly. “Ray?”

  But Ray wasn’t looking at his wife. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Let’s see if I do,” Wade responded coolly. “According to my source, Tina had to go away for several months last summer after a visit to a certain nurse over in Wheeler almost killed her—a visit you not only drove her to but allegedly paid for. I couldn’t verify that last part, but let’s run with it anyway, shall we?”

  Christy-Lynn stood openmouthed, gaping at the drama unfolding before her. How on earth could he possibly know those things? And yet it was obvious he did know because Ray had gone a terrible shade of gray, as if all the blood had drained from his body. He stood glaring at Wade, half of his shirt untucked.

  “It’s a lie!”

  “Not according to Tina’s boyfriend. Doug Simpson, I believe his name was. Captain of the wrestling team and very angry with you apparently. He couldn’t wait to spill the details. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d be willing to spill them to anyone who’ll listen—including a judge if you’re still inclined. But then, I’m betting you’re not. I’m no expert, but I don’t think there are a lot of judges who’d hand over a three-year-old girl to that kind of scum. I could be wrong though. Ball’s in your court.”

  Ellen Rawlings hadn’t moved a muscle during the exchange, but there were twin spots of color on her cheeks now. In three long steps, she closed the distance between herself and her husband, clearly seething. “You said it wasn’t true. You swore!”

  Ray rounded on his wife, fists knotted at his sides. “Shut up, Ellen!”

  Wade was smiling now, but his eyes were hard, devoid of anything like humor. “Here’s the long and short of it, Ray. If you pursue this scheme of yours, if you so much as think about coming after that child or her money, or harassing your grandmother for so much as a penny from that trust, I’ll make sure every person in this town knows what you are. The cheerleader. The check fraud. The real estate scheme. All of it. And that’ll be the end of your precious congregation—and the collection plate that goes with it.”

  Ray’s mouth worked mutely as he sawed at his tie. After a moment, he pivoted toward the van and stalked away, leaving his pregnant wife to trail after him.

  Christy-Lynn held her breath until the van had pulled out of sight, then turned to look at Wade. “What just happened?”

  “I think I’ve just gotten rid of the reverend for you.”

  Christy-Lynn nodded, a blend of confusion and relief. “Yes, I got that part. But how did you know about the cheerleader?”

  “Like I told Ray, I did some homework.”
<
br />   “You made another call.”

  “I had a hunch, and it turned out to be right. Man’s got quite a past if you talk to the right people. Even had a couple of arrests way back that I doubt his flock knows about. You were right. He was never going to court—not with his past—but he was banking on you not knowing that.”

  “That’s why you wanted to come,” she said, suddenly understanding. “You wanted to be here in case he showed up and tried to pull something. But how did you know he would?”

  Wade shrugged. “I didn’t. But guys like that don’t change their stripes. I wasn’t about to let you to get blindsided.”

  For a moment, Christy-Lynn wasn’t sure she could speak, the lump in her throat suddenly threatening to cut off her words. He had done this for her. Not for Iris, who until today he had never met, but for her, because he knew how much it mattered. “I honestly don’t know what to say. Except thank you, of course. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. I might have actually paid him. The thought of Iris living with that—” She broke off, not wanting to finish the thought. “I guess we’d better go back in and let Rhetta know no one’s dead.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Rhetta was weeping quietly when they walked back into the house, cradling Iris and crooning some indecipherable tune. She glanced up, blinking to clear her vision. “Where’s Ray?”

  “I don’t think he’ll be around for a while,” Wade said gently. “We had a conversation. I think he understands that Iris is better off here with you.”

  Rhetta nodded, though she was clearly bewildered. She closed her eyes briefly, heaving a shaky breath. “I need to smoke. Can you look after her while I’m outside?”

  Christy-Lynn turned to Wade. “Can you? I’d like to talk to Rhetta a minute.”

  Rhetta planted a kiss on Iris’s pale head. “Nonny needs to go out on the porch for a few minutes. Can you stay and color with the nice man?”

  Iris turned wide eyes toward Wade.

  The hard angles disappeared from Wade’s face as he bent down to meet Iris’s gaze. “Christy-Lynn showed me the fish you colored for her. She has it on her refrigerator so all her friends can see it. Do you think you could color one for me? Maybe a blue one?”

  Iris eyed him warily but took his hand when he extended it. Christy-Lynn watched as he led her to the coloring books scattered in the corner and settled down beside her on the rug, as if it coloring with a three-year-old was something he did every day.

  Rhetta struggled up out of her chair, already patting her pockets for her cigarettes. She moved slowly, almost brokenly, as she stepped out onto the porch and groped her way to her chair. Her hands trembled as she plucked a cigarette from the crumpled packet. It took three tries to light it.

  She was quiet for a time, pulling in smoke, pushing it out. Finally, she turned to Christy-Lynn. “I’m sorry about my grandson. He’s . . . not a nice man.”

  “You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t want to show him the papers. Because you were afraid he’d try something like this.”

  Rhetta nodded wearily as she blew out a lung full of smoke. “I knew he’d get his hands on the money if he found out, so I kept it quiet. But he showed up one day, and the papers were on the kitchen table. He doesn’t give a damn about that girl. Neither does Ellen. They just see dollar signs.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He told me not to.” She closed her eyes, her lids blue-veined and paper-thin. “He’s got an awful temper.”

  “Are you afraid of him, Rhetta?” Christy-Lynn asked, already knowing the answer.

  “It isn’t just that. He and Ellen are the only family I have—the only help I have. They do my shopping and my errands, run me to the doctor when I need to go, pick up my medicine. I don’t know what I’d do if they quit. But that isn’t the worst of it.” She paused, crushed out her cigarette, then fumbled to light another. “One day I’ll be gone. And then what? They were my only hope for Iris, which is why I’ve been so torn. Part of me hoped the money might bring them around. But then today, when I heard him saying those things and saw the look on Iris’s little face, I knew I couldn’t let him anywhere near her. I’d rather let the county have her. At least she’ll have a chance.”

  Christy-Lynn felt the words like a physical shock. They had been Missy’s words too. But they weren’t true. She of all people knew that. “You don’t mean that. You can’t. There must be some local family who’d be willing to take her—a decent family. My lawyer could help arrange the adoption.”

  “With who?” Rhetta countered, near tears now. “There’s no one. Unless . . .”

  Christy-Lynn lifted her eyes, waiting.

  “You could take her.” She’d said it softly but quickly, like the snick of a trap springing shut. “You could take her away from here, give her a better life—a real life.”

  There was a dull buzzing in Christy-Lynn’s head, a sudden weight at the center of her chest. “Rhetta, I can’t.”

  “She needs you, Christy-Lynn. I’ve thought so for a while, but I knew it for sure when I saw the two of you at Honey’s grave. And you need her.”

  Christy-Lynn pushed to her feet and moved to the railing, as far from Rhetta as she could get on the tiny porch. “It isn’t possible, Rhetta. I can’t say why, it just . . . isn’t.”

  “Because of Honey?”

  “Because of me. There are a million reasons I can’t do what you’re asking, but none of them have to do with Iris—or with Honey. Iris needs a mother, and I’m not mother material. It’s why I never had children of my own.”

  “People change,” Rhetta told her gently. “They grow. One day something happens, and all of a sudden everything’s different.”

  Christy-Lynn shook her head, unable to bear the naked plea in Rhetta’s eyes.

  “That girl needs a mama, Christy-Lynn. And you need something to do with that great big heart of yours. You need each other. And that stuff about not being mother material—that’s nonsense.”

  Christy-Lynn turned finally, arms crossed as if to ward off this terrible thing she was being asked to do. But then it had always been inevitable, hadn’t it? That Rhetta would at least make the suggestion? Because she didn’t know—couldn’t know—that handing her great-granddaughter over to Christy-Lynn would essentially be trading one disaster for another. And the last thing Iris needed was one more disaster in her life.

  “I know you’re desperate, Rhetta. And I’ll help in any way I can, but I can’t do what you’re asking.” Her voice began to fracture as tears threatened. “I’m so sorry.”

  The door opened. Wade stepped out onto the porch. “She’s asleep,” he said softly, before noticing Christy-Lynn’s stricken face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Christy-Lynn swiped at her tears before they could fall. “I just . . . I need to go. Can you bring me my purse from inside?” She was already making her way down the steps, moving blindly toward the Rover. “I’m sorry, Rhetta. I’ll call you. I just . . . I have to go.”

  Wade said nothing as he held out his hand for the car keys. He had no idea what just happened, but one look at Christy-Lynn’s face was enough to tell him she had no business behind the wheel.

  Her eyes were blank as she climbed up into the passenger seat, her movements heavy and deliberate, like someone trying very hard not to fall apart. She said nothing as they pulled away from the house, nothing as they headed back through Riddlesville’s dismal downtown, nothing as they merged back onto the highway. Finally, he had to ask.

  “Can you tell me what happened back there?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She turned away then, angling her body toward the window and effectively ending the discussion.

  Wade fought the urge to press for an answer. There was still so much about her he didn’t understand, but he had learned that pushing would get him nowhere.

  She slept for a time. At least he thought she was sleeping. It wasn’t until they had c
rossed over into Virginia that he realized she was awake—and quietly crying. He took the ramp for the next rest stop, pulled into a space near the picnic area, and cut the engine.

  Christy-Lynn sat up abruptly, wiping both eyes with her fists. “What are we doing?”

  “I thought maybe you’d like to splash some water on your face. I’ll get you a drink from the machine.”

  “Thanks,” she said thickly. “But I’m good.”

  For the second time since climbing back into the Rover, Wade found himself swallowing his first reaction, which was to point out that she wasn’t anything close to good. Instead, he reached for her hand. “What can I do?”

  She looked away. “Nothing. You can’t do anything.”

  “I’d like to help.”

  For a moment, the tension in her body seemed to ebb, and her hand relaxed in his. And then, before he realized what she was up to, she had unfastened her seat belt and was bolting from the car. He scurried out after her but tangled briefly in his own seat belt, giving her a head start. She ran like a wild thing, panicked and stumbling as she scrambled down the overgrown trail and disappeared into the trees.

  He didn’t bother calling out; she wouldn’t have stopped anyway. Instead, he focused on closing the distance between them, pounding down the path until he was close enough to grab her arm and jerk her to a halt.

  “Where are you going?”

  She rounded on him, face splotched and tear-streaked. “Leave me alone!”

  “I can’t do that. You’re upset, and you have no idea where you’re going.” He stepped back, giving her some space, but remained alert, in case he needed to sprint after her again. “Talk to me, please. Let me help.”

  He was expecting another sharp retort, but suddenly all the fight seemed to go out of her. Like a balloon with a slow leak, she went limp, sagging against him with a choking sob. He led her back down the trail toward the parking lot, steering her toward one of the concrete benches, and for a few moments, they sat in silence.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after several minutes. She had stopped weeping, but her voice was thick and congested. She dragged a sleeve across her face, mopping her eyes. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”