“Did your dog die?”
“Yes,” Louise said nervously. The old dog had risen to go to his water dish one afternoon and fallen over dead. She didn’t want to talk about it.
Louise forced herself to keep driving south, toward Endor.
I shouldn’t have gotten involved in this
, she told herself uneasily.
Still, God knows someone’s got to help this child
.
But she knew she had not done it out of pity or Christian duty. She had done it for money.
And she was punished for it. In the motel late that morning, the child wouldn’t sleep, she wet the bed, shemade Louise crazy. So Louise, exhausted, gave up, paid the bill, and drove on.
When she reached Endor, shortly before noon, and called the grandmother, she got an unpleasant surprise. “I’m here, like your daughter said. I’ve got the girl. Where do I come?”
The old woman said her only daughter had been dead for years and what the hell was going on?
This frightened Louise badly and now she was terrified she’d be stuck with this difficult child. At last, Mimi’s name came up, and Louise wrangled the woman’s address from her.
Fearing the old woman wouldn’t accept the child, Louise had almost literally dumped the little girl on the front porch, thrust the envelope into Jessie Buddress’s hand, and escaped.
She drove straight back to the Missouri border, her heart beating so erratically that she thought she was having an attack. Early in the afternoon she stopped at another motel, completely spent.
God help me, God help me
, she kept thinking.
And God forgive me for what I’ve done
.
She’d yearned, like a lost soul, for the comfort and safety of her own home. She’d been physically ill and thrown up twice.
Now she was home, had been home for half an hour, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
It’s over
, she kept telling herself.
It’s over
. But her pulse wouldn’t stop its hectic pounding.
Eden saw Owen’s car pull into Jessie’s drive. Her emotions clashed in unruly conflict. She didn’t want to see him; she did. He made her uneasy, yet he was her only ally in this foreign land she had once called home.
She turned from the window and waited for his knock. When it came, she took a deep breath and swung open the door.
He stood on the small front porch, one hand propped against the door frame. He looked as tired and out of patience as she felt.
“How’s Jessie?” she asked.
“Worried,” he said shortly.
“
She’s
worried?” Eden said. Jessie, lucky Jessie, was tucked into a nice, safe hospital.
He shot her an ice-blue look that told her he was in no mood to argue.
“All right, I’m sorry,” Eden said, though she hardly felt repentent. “How’s she otherwise?”
Owen didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he entered the room without invitation, closing the front door behind him. “You and I have to talk.”
Eden tossed her head. “I’d like to talk to somebody myself. I’ve had a very strange time here. And some strange calls. Including one from Jessie’s friend Constance. It made me—uneasy.”
The expression in his eyes didn’t change, but one dark brow crooked and his jaw muscles grew rigid. Eden realized that he sometimes had a dangerous, almost predatory air.
He looked her up and down. “Where’s Peyton?”
“Changing into a warmer shirt,” Eden said, turning from him and staring out the window. “She’s restless. I told her I’d take her out to play. I’m not letting her go out alone.”
“Good,” he said tonelessly. “I’ll go with you.”
Eden kept her back to him. “You didn’t tell me how Jessie is.”
“As well as can be expected,” he answered.
Mr. Communication
, Eden thought irasicibly.
His hair may be silver, but that tongue’s pure gold
.
She turned when she heard Peyton coming down the hall. The child wore a faded blue sweatshirt that was wrong side out. Her dirty tennis shoes were untied, and she tripped over one dangling lace. She lurched down the hall sideways, trying to
“Yes,” Louise said nervously. The old dog had risen to go to his water dish one afternoon and fallen over dead. She didn’t want to talk about it.
Louise forced herself to keep driving south, toward Endor.
I shouldn’t have gotten involved in this
, she told herself uneasily.
Still, God knows someone’s got to help this child
.
But she knew she had not done it out of pity or Christian duty. She had done it for money.
And she was punished for it. In the motel late that morning, the child wouldn’t sleep, she wet the bed, shemade Louise crazy. So Louise, exhausted, gave up, paid the bill, and drove on.
When she reached Endor, shortly before noon, and called the grandmother, she got an unpleasant surprise. “I’m here, like your daughter said. I’ve got the girl. Where do I come?”
The old woman said her only daughter had been dead for years and what the hell was going on?
This frightened Louise badly and now she was terrified she’d be stuck with this difficult child. At last, Mimi’s name came up, and Louise wrangled the woman’s address from her.
Fearing the old woman wouldn’t accept the child, Louise had almost literally dumped the little girl on the front porch, thrust the envelope into Jessie Buddress’s hand, and escaped.
She drove straight back to the Missouri border, her heart beating so erratically that she thought she was having an attack. Early in the afternoon she stopped at another motel, completely spent.
God help me, God help me
, she kept thinking.
And God forgive me for what I’ve done
.
She’d yearned, like a lost soul, for the comfort and safety of her own home. She’d been physically ill and thrown up twice.
Now she was home, had been home for half an hour, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
It’s over
, she kept telling herself.
It’s over
. But her pulse wouldn’t stop its hectic pounding.
Eden saw Owen’s car pull into Jessie’s drive. Her emotions clashed in unruly conflict. She didn’t want to see him; she did. He made her uneasy, yet he was her only ally in this foreign land she had once called home.
She turned from the window and waited for his knock. When it came, she took a deep breath and swung open the door.
He stood on the small front porch, one hand propped against the door frame. He looked as tired and out of patience as she felt.
“How’s Jessie?” she asked.
“Worried,” he said shortly.
“
She’s
worried?” Eden said. Jessie, lucky Jessie, was tucked into a nice, safe hospital.
He shot her an ice-blue look that told her he was in no mood to argue.
“All right, I’m sorry,” Eden said, though she hardly felt repentent. “How’s she otherwise?”
Owen didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he entered the room without invitation, closing the front door behind him. “You and I have to talk.”
Eden tossed her head. “I’d like to talk to somebody myself. I’ve had a very strange time here. And some strange calls. Including one from Jessie’s friend Constance. It made me—uneasy.”
The expression in his eyes didn’t change, but one dark brow crooked and his jaw muscles grew rigid. Eden realized that he sometimes had a dangerous, almost predatory air.
He looked her up and down. “Where’s Peyton?”
“Changing into a warmer shirt,” Eden said, turning from him and staring out the window. “She’s restless. I told her I’d take her out to play. I’m not letting her go out alone.”
“Good,” he said tonelessly. “I’ll go with you.”
Eden kept her back to him. “You didn’t tell me how Jessie is.”
“As well as can be expected,” he answered.
Mr. Communication
, Eden thought irasicibly.
His hair may be silver, but that tongue’s pure gold
.
She turned when she heard Peyton coming down the hall. The child wore a faded blue sweatshirt that was wrong side out. Her dirty tennis shoes were untied, and she tripped over one dangling lace. She lurched down the hall sideways, trying to
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