The Day Will Come

by Judy Clemens

  “Stella,” Lucy said, “I was wondering if you…”

  The tone of her voice set off a rash of irritation up my spine. Because of her persistence or my own guilt, I wasn’t sure. “No,” I said. “I didn’t call Nick.”

  I shoved my chair under the table. “I’ll see you at church in a little while.”

  “Can I go with Stella, Mom? Pleasepleasepleasepl—”

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  Tess hopped toward me and hung on my arms. “Pleaseplease pl—”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “That’s fine. I need to take a shower, though. So you’ll have to wait.”

  “That’s okay. You take quick showers.”

  So I stumped upstairs, took my turn in the bathroom, and tried to figure out what was appropriate to wear to a wedding rehearsal. Jeans and a Harley T-shirt? Jeans and a flannel shirt? Jeans and…what?

  I rifled through my T-shirt drawer and came up with a relatively new white one. It had quite a few wrinkles from being scrunched down in there for so long, but it would do.

  Lucy was just leaving as I got downstairs, and though her eyes flicked over my clothes, she didn’t say a word. Saving her energy for the wedding outfit, I guess. Which I really needed to check on. I’d left it up to Ma, and I assumed she’d keep up her end of the bargain.

  I gathered up Tess and we headed to Sellersville Mennonite Church, where the Grangers had always attended, and where Lucy had gone since coming to work for me the last summer. Lenny wasn’t a member of any church, but had made token appearances at Sellersville, now that he and Lucy were an item.

  “Stella Crown, haven’t seen you for a while.”

  Peter Reinford, the pastor of the church, welcomed me at the door with a smile and an outstretched hand.

  “Well, I’m still alive,” I said.

  He laughed. “I would’ve welcomed Tess, too, except she ran past me at a million miles an hour.”

  “She’s excited.”

  “I guess. You ready to be the maid of honor?”

  How he said this without a burst of laughter was beyond me, but then, pastors are supposed to have some extra inner strength the rest of us are lacking. Or more self-control, anyway.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Come on in, then.”

  The foyer embraced me with the comforting smell of sloppy joes. A glance toward the kitchen showed me Ma in her splendor, organizing food and ordering workers around. Looked like her crew consisted of the church’s kitchen committee, most of whom were probably relieved to have someone else running things, even with Ma barking orders at them. I suddenly felt lucky to only be in the wedding party.

  “Stella!” Lucy’s mother, Lois, strode toward me, hands outstretched.

  I let her hug me, and stepped back. “Where’s Lucy?”

  She tipped her head toward the church’s library. “On the phone. Something got mixed up with the flowers for tomorrow, and she’s trying to fix it.” She smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Yeah. You, too.” I meant it. Lois and Ron Ruth were wonderful parents to Lucy, and even greater grandparents to Tess. They’d offered to stay and be with Tess for the next week, since she couldn’t go to Lancaster and miss school, but Tess assured them I’d be enough. We’d see about that.

  “Lenny here?” I asked her.

  “Yup. In the sanctuary, helping with some decorations.”

  “How much time, Rev?” I asked Peter.

  He glanced at his watch. “We won’t start the actual rehearsal for, oh, another twenty minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll go see if I can help.”

  I went up the stairs to the main worship space, where Lenny was sitting on the front platform, trying to tie a bow with a wide ribbon.

  “Having a good time?” I asked.

  He glanced up, scowling. “I told Lucy my fingers were too fat for this.” He held it out. “You try.”

  “Oh, no. Ribbons are definitely not my thing.”

  “Help me, then.”

  I turned toward the voice to find Jordan carrying some mic stands toward the front of the church.

  “Hey, Jordan.”

  He jerked his chin, and I followed.

  “Did San get a hold of you the other day?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “She called, trying to find you. It was…” I thought back. “Wednesday, I guess. Before…” Before all hell had broken loose and I’d had to go running to Philly to keep Jordan from pummeling Ricky.

  “Oh, yeah. She left a message.”

  “You talk to her?”

  He slid the microphone into the holder. “And you need to know because…?”

  I held up my hands. “You’re right. I don’t. I just wanted to make sure you got the message.”

  He walked back toward the church’s sound booth, and I tagged along. In the closet-sized room, he handed me a lapel mic, along with another mic stand. I backed out, giving him room to maneuver. Lenny, still trying to tie the bow, finally stood up and threw the ribbon on the ground. I tried not to laugh as he stormed down the aisle toward the fellowship hall, bellowing, “Lucy!”

  Jordan pressed past me, and again I followed, this time to the piano at the front of the church, where he pointed at a spot for me to set the stand. He glanced around, and when he saw we were alone, said, “You know how you were asking me about Donny and Tonya?”

  “Yeah. I was guessing they’d been together at some point.”

  He tore a piece of duct tape with his teeth, and bent to secure a cable to the floor. “Seems they were. Back in college. In fact, they were together when the Tom Copper Band was first formed.”

  “Wow. How’d you find out?”

  “Asked LeRoy.”

  “So why did things change?”

  “Seems Tom came to his senses sooner than Donny. All the guys liked the groupie girls back then. Including Donny, even though he had a girlfriend. Tom soon realized he liked Tonya’s love for the music more than he liked the one-nighters, and basically stole her away from Donny.”

  “Ouch. How’d Donny take it?”

  “Took him a while to realize it, actually, he was such a mess back then. And when he finally did, it about broke up the band. But somehow they got through it, and he and Tonya are good friends now.”

  Uh-huh. “Just like he and Genna were good friends.”

  “Well. I guess.”

  I shook my head. The rate Donny went, he must’ve had good friends all over the country.

  “We about ready in here?”

  Peter Reinford walked in, flanked by Lucy, Lenny, Tess, and now Bart, who flashed a grin. He’d opted for a button-down Harley shirt to go with his jeans.

  “A white T-shirt, Princess?” he asked.

  “Because she’s so angelic,” Lenny said.

  Everyone got a good laugh out of that one.

  “Belle’s here,” Lucy said, referring to Zach’s mom, who was serving as the pianist. “I saw her in the lobby.”

  “I’ll get her!” Tess said.

  As she flounced away, Jordan took the lapel mic from my hand and helped Peter secure it to his coat.

  “Doing sound already today?” Peter asked.

  Jordan nodded. “Want to make sure we have everything we need.”

  Belle arrived, dragged by the hand, and made her way to the piano.

  “Okay, everyone,” Peter said. “Let’s practice the processional. You can count music, right, Stella?”

  And thus began the rehearsal from hell.

  An hour and a half later Peter deemed it all “close enough for country,” (which he said with a smile, since he had great affection for Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, and their kind) and sent us all to the fellowship hall for the rehearsal dinner.

  I followed the pack, my stomach having rumbled during the entire rehearsal after smelling the food all that time. But when I got to the top of the stairs I froze.


  Nick sat at one of the tables, waiting.

  My stomach immediately switched modes, and I tried to remember exactly where the closest bathroom was. My eyes, however, were locked to his, even as I struggled to breathe.

  “Stella?” Lucy stood beside me.

  I ripped my eyes from Nick. “I didn’t think—”

  “He’d still come?”

  “Well…”

  Her face held a combination of kindness and steel. “He’s my friend, too.”

  I looked back at Nick, who kept his eyes on me.

  “Oh, God,” I said, and stumbled backward into the sanctuary. I sank into a pew, where I leaned forward onto the back of the bench in front of me, resting my face on my hands. I concentrated on my breathing until I could do it without wheezing.

  The bench creaked as someone sat next to me. A peek sideways showed me a pair of new khaki pants. Not jeans. I closed my eyes again.

  “You want to talk?” Nick said.

  “No.”

  I stayed sitting there long enough he finally got up and went away.

  A little while later, my stomach was beginning to growl again. I sat up and weighed my options. The one I liked best had to do with me walking out of the church and never coming back. Realistically, though, I knew that would backfire. Instead, I left the sanctuary through a door at the front, which took me outside. I walked around to the back of the building, toward the kitchen. I knocked on the locked screen door.

  One of the kitchen workers peered out at me. “Oh. You.” She turned toward Ma. “Can she come in?”

  Ma looked up from where she was scrubbing a crockpot in the sink. “I suppose.”

  The woman unlocked the door and I went through.

  “You want leftovers,” Ma said, “you’ll have to help yourself.”

  I ducked out of the sightlines of the fellowship hall and found a Tupperware container filled with beef. I slapped some on a hamburger bun and took a bite.

  “You know what you’re doing?” Ma asked.

  I swallowed. “About what?”

  “That’s what I thought.” She thumped the crockpot upside down onto a towel and turned toward me, arms crossed on her chest. “You have a lovely man out there, who for some reason seems to think you’re the one for him, regardless of the way you’ve been ignoring him.”

  “I—”

  “Which,” she continued, “affirms that the Lord moves in mysterious ways.” She snapped her dish towel and hung it over the drying rack.

  “Ma, there are—”

  “And don’t tell me you have your reasons. Whatever they are, they aren’t good enough. So are you going to go out there and talk to him, or cower here in the kitchen?”

  My choice would’ve been the cowering one if we hadn’t heard a commotion coming from the fellowship hall. Ma took one glance toward the front door and lit out of the kitchen. I peered around the doorway, and stopped chewing.

  Detective Willard and his non-pal Alexander from the Philly police stood in the foyer. Lenny barricaded their way to the main room and Ma was bearing down fast. I wasn’t about to lay odds on the cops’ success of entry.

  I set down my sandwich, undecided as to what action to take, until Jordan walked down the stairs into the eating area. The look on his face was enough to make me overcome my…whatever it was…and head into the fray.

  Reaching Jordan, I grabbed his elbow. “Don’t worry. Looks like Ma and Lenny have got your back.”

  He shook his arm out of my grip. “But for what? How many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t do anything?”

  “You never had to tell me. It’s the cops you have to convince.”

  He started to say something else, but stopped when Alexander somehow skirted around Ma and made his way toward Jordan.

  I held out my hand. “No way, man. Not without his lawyer.”

  His smile reminded me of the snake Lucy had killed on my farm the day she came to interview. “Ah, Ms. Crown. A pleasure to see you again. But what makes you think we’re here to talk with Mr. Granger?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Who else would there be?”

  He looked around. “Well, you, for one. And maybe your boyfriend. At least I assume he’s here somewhere. And even Lucy or her—” he glanced up at Lenny, who’d moved close enough to cast a shadow—“her rather large fiancé.”

  “You do realize you’re interrupting a private event?” I asked. “A wedding rehearsal.”

  “Yeah,” Lenny said. “Mine. And you’re making it uncomfortable for my in-laws.” He gestured toward the table where Lucy sat with her folks and Tess.

  “Yes,” Alexander said. “I do apologize for that. We have no intention of putting a damper on such a happy day.”

  Lenny made a kind of growl, but Alexander kept on with that smile.

  “Can we all just stop,” Jordan said. “I’ll talk to the friggin’ cops, if it’ll get them out of here.”

  “No you won’t, young man.” Ma stepped between her son and Alexander. “Not until Mr. Crockett gets here. He’s already been called.”

  She glanced at Nick, who was stowing his phone back on his belt. I wondered if Nick ever used his phone as much as everyone else did.

  “I understand,” Alexander said. “We’ll wait for the respectable Mr. Crockett. Where should we sit?”

  Ma glared at him and pointed to the table closest to the kitchen. “There. I’ll feed you lunch while Mr. Crockett finds his way to the church.”

  Willard lit up at that.

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” Alexander said, patting his stomach. “Already ate.”

  Willard’s face fell.

  “That’s all fine and dandy,” Ma said, “but you’re still coming over there.” Where she could keep an eye on them.

  Alexander followed Ma and her stiff shoulders across the room, and I stifled a laugh. “You can still eat, Willard. Even if Mr. Something-Up-His-Ass doesn’t want to.”

  Willard allowed a small grin. “Well, gee, thanks. I think I will.”

  As he stepped away, I said, “So what does he want this time?”

  Willard glanced toward Alexander, his face stony. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “You do realize Alexander’s on a witch hunt?”

  “Of course.” His expression was impossible to read. He shifted on his feet, ready to go grab some lunch. “You’re keeping an eye on him, aren’t you?”

  “Jordan? Well, yeah.”

  “Making sure he’s getting through this okay, and everything? Talking things out with him?”

  I squinted up at him. He was sending some kind of signal, but I sure wasn’t receiving it.

  “You might want to ask him,” Willard said, “why he was spending so much of his time in Robert Baronne’s office last week. And the week before.”

  I stared at him. “Like I said earlier, he was getting ready for a concert. At Baronne’s club.”

  “Would that include lunch with him? Multiple times? And at least fifteen phone calls?”

  I didn’t know. Would it?

  He glanced at Nick. “We also got photos from Nick’s phone, taken the night of the concert.” He hesitated.

  “And?”

  “And there’s a nice clear one of Jordan and Baronne.”

  “Let me guess. That argument you told me about.”

  “Actually, no. They look quite friendly.”

  Which would back up Jordan’s claim that they had definitely not been fighting.

  Willard’s face turned thoughtful as he watched me take in the information, and I looked away. “Didn’t you say you were starving?” I asked.

  He left.

  Why was Jordan spending so much time with Baronne? I couldn’t imagine it really would be necessary, just to set up the concert. Especially since Club Independence had been on the band’s schedule for years. It wasn’t like it was a new venue. And Jordan hadn’t said anything about becoming friends
with Baronne.

  I looked around for Jordan, but didn’t see him anywhere.

  “He’s outside.”

  Nick had placed himself at my elbow, and I glanced at him briefly. “Thanks.”

  “Stella—”

  “Later, Nick, okay? Please?”

  He searched my face, then turned and walked back to his seat at the table.

  I felt like a jerk, but I needed to talk to Jordan before the cops did. I found him sitting on the front steps, his elbows on his knees.

  I sat beside him. “You okay?”

  “Sure. I’m just great.”

  “Sorry. Stupid question.”

  He waved at me, like he was trying to shoo a fly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just…” He took in a big breath, and let it out slowly.

  “I know.” We sat for a few moments. “They want to ask you about Bobby Baronne.”

  He sat up. “Again?”

  “They seem to think you were spending a lot of time with him the last two weeks. More than you would’ve needed to.”

  His face tensed. “Now I have to explain my friends to them?”

  “You do when that friend is suspected of running off with the money. Planting a bomb. Maybe killing Genna.”

  His head snapped toward me. “What?”

  “What was going on, Jordan? It doesn’t sound to me like he was your kind of guy.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing. It just seems…out of character for you.”

  He glared at me and stood up. “Well, we sure wouldn’t want that. Lord knows you never act out of character. Being Miss Loyalty and all. But, oops, you think I had something to do with it all. And, oops again, isn’t that your boyfriend in there, who you refuse to speak to?”

  “Jordan—”

  “Forget it. And forget this whole sister act. I don’t need you nosing around, making me hate myself more than I already do. So just…leave me alone.” He stomped up the stairs, and back into the church.

  Great.

  The door opened again, and Ma came out and stood behind me.

  “Well,” she said, “I guess he gave you the boot. At least it took him almost a week to call you off. He rejected us immediately.”

  “Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

  She snorted. “And in case you’ve been wondering, I did manage to whip something together for you to wear tomorrow.”