Blood Kin (16 page)

Bailey shook her head. “This is fine.”

Emma glanced at the wall clock. “Lord, girl, it's quarter to eight. You'd best hurry or you'll be late for your first day of school.”

“Ida may be there. I may not have to—”

“Sure, she will. And my hens will lay golden eggs. Get on down there, Bailey. Cathy and those kids need you.”

At eight o'clock sharp that morning, Bailey arrived at the school to find that Ida was still missing and now presumed, by many on the island, to be the second body in Creed's house. Cathy and Amy were in the library, where a group of excited students were checking out books.

“Quiet! Quiet, everyone,” Cathy ordered. “This is Miss Elliott. She's visiting our school this morning, and I'd like her to get a good impression. Well?”

“Good morning, Miss Elliott,” came a weak response from a half dozen kids. “Good morning,” echoed from three middle schoolers near the windows.

“Mornin', ma'am,” said a handsome dark-skinned boy shyly.

“Hi!” Two identical towhead first graders wearing green shorts and orange T-shirts giggled and hid their faces in their hands.

A chubby boy about eight years old with a buzz cut stared at her so hard that he bumped into the twins and dropped the stack of library books he was carrying to the desk. The children around him laughed, but another boy helped gather up the books. An older girl whispered to a friend, and Bailey heard the name Tawes.

“Not even half of the kids came to class this morning,” Cathy confided. With her hair pulled into a ponytail and no makeup, she reminded Bailey of a pregnant Reese Witherspoon. “And those that did,” she continued, “are too upset to settle down. Someone's started a rumor that Creed and Ida were murdered and
that a killer's running loose on the island. I think I'll give everyone reading assignments and send them home.”

“That's probably best,” Bailey agreed, “but I'll admit, I was looking forward to getting to know some of them.”

Cathy motioned her aside and lowered her voice. “Poor Ida. She had a wicked tongue, she rarely told the truth about anything, and she was a malicious gossip, but she surely didn't deserve to go that way.”

“If she had all those faults, why did Forest McCready employ her?”

“Because they were second cousins, and because Ida wouldn't have had enough to live on if it wasn't for her salary from his office.”

“But she taught here on Tawes?”

Cathy shook her head. “Ida was an unpaid volunteer. She never got a penny for her work with the children, and she never lost her patience with them, especially with the kids who struggled academically.” She held up her index finger and stepped between a gum-chewing girl in a denim skirt and a mischievous-looking red-haired boy, about eleven, who would have made a perfect Tom Sawyer in any theater production. “Jason? Let me see that book.”

He tucked the oversize picture book behind his back.

“Give!”

Jason sighed heavily and passed her the offending volume.

Cathy opened it and glanced at the contents. “I don't think so. This is a little too easy for you. If you'll wait a minute, I'll show you a book on sharks that just came in. Reading little kids' books won't help you score higher on your test.”

She re-joined Bailey. “That's Jason Somers. Yes, some
relation to Creed, but not close enough to matter. He's an excellent student at math, but he's lazy when it comes to reading. Jason's a good kid, but full of it. You have to keep an eye on him. He's the one who put tadpoles in the library aquarium, live crabs in my desk drawer, and crazy glue in Ida's chair all in one day last week.”

“Ouch, Poor Ida. Did she—”

“Yep, she did. Sat in it and glued her new black slacks to the chair. Of course, they were ruined. I had to run home and get her another pair so she could be seen in public.”

“What did she do to Jason?”

“Talked to him. Told him he'd have to spend four hours weeding her garden, but she wouldn't let me punish him. And she didn't tell him that she only had two pairs of slacks to wear to school.”

“I'm sorry I never got to meet her. Someone said she was at Emma's, but there were so many people. . . .”

“I know. And chances are she would have been hiding in the dark, sipping from a flask. She had an old tin one that had belonged to her father.” Cathy shook her head. “I don't know what we'll do when I go out on maternity leave. Try to get someone over from the mainland, I suppose. There are other teachers when school starts in the fall, but Amy has the baby, and two others are working elsewhere for the summer.”

“My classes start after Labor Day. And I have to be home in time to—”

“I realize that. Summer school only lasts—Billy, no pushing!—until the middle of August. Sorry. As I said, they're out of sorts today.” She hugged her. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Bailey. I feel so bad for Ida. She had a good heart, even if she was rough on
the outside. She used to bake cakes for kids' birthdays, and every fall she organized a coat and boot trade for the school. She and Forest would contact manufacturers and get donations of outerwear seconds, so that every child on Tawes would be warm and dry walking to school. I guess Forest will be on his own this year.”

“I wish the public schools would do more of that. Too many children don't have proper clothes and shoes. It doesn't seem right, in America.”

“I know. I saw it all the time back on the Eastern Shore.” Cathy smiled. “Tawes is a lot like Ida—rough around the edges, but with a good heart. We try to take care of all of our kids. They may not have the iPods and latest games for Xbox and PlayStation, but we provide free hot lunches, school supplies, and one of the best libraries around. Most of all, we like to think we treat them as we would our own family.”

“It sounds good to me. And as happy as I'd be to have Daniel do my repairs, I probably could have been talked into helping without the bribe. I'm a sucker for a sob story that involves children.”

“Good. That's what we need—innocents who know how to teach. Just be certain you check your chair before you sit down, and don't be surprised to find a live snake in your raincoat pocket. Jason's not the only jokester among us. And as a mainlander, I'm afraid you'll be fair game.”

“You didn't warn me about that,” Bailey teased.

“Ooops.” Cathy giggled. “Oversight on my part. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a young man about a shark.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Absolutely. Be here or I'll send Jason looking for you.”

Amy followed them out of the library. “I'd better be
getting home. Maria's watching Joel, and I told her that I'd only be gone an hour.”

“Go ahead, you two,” Cathy said. “I've got to close the windows in my classroom.”

“See you tomorrow.” Bailey smiled at her and caught up with Amy. “Are you coming back to teaching in the fall?”

“No, not until after Christmas. I want to stay with him a little longer. My mother-in-law and Maria will take turns babysitting, but it's still hard to leave.”

“I'm in awe of working mothers.”

Amy hesitated, then touched her arm. “I heard—never mind how—but I was told that you wanted to see your christening records at the church.”

“Yes.” Bailey waited. Apparently, everything she'd done or said since she'd gotten to Tawes was public knowledge. “I want to learn everything I can about Beth Tawes. It's funny: I've always thought of her as a woman. Now I'm twice as old as she was when she died.”

“Sometimes . . .” Amy looked uncomfortable. She took a breath and blurted out, “Don't poke around into the past. You'll only be hurt, and you seem like a nice person.”

“Why? How could I be hurt? Do you know something?”

Amy shrugged. “Only what I've heard, but . . .”

“You do know something about my mother. Do you know who my father is?”

“Forget it.” Amy took a few steps away from her. “I'm sorry; it's none of my business, really. You can't believe gossip. People say all kinds of things.”

“What do they say?”

“That you're . . . That Will Tawes is crazy. That there was some scandal with him and Beth. That—”

“Hey.” Cathy pushed through the outer door and came out onto the step. “What am I missing? It looks serious.”

“Nothing,” Amy said. “See you tomorrow.”

“What else?” Bailey demanded.

Amy shook her head. “I'm sorry. I never know when to keep my mouth shut.” Giving Cathy a strange look, she hurried away.

“What was all that about?” Cathy asked.

“I'm not sure,” Bailey said. “She said something about my mother and a scandal. Do you know anything about it?”

“If I did, I'd tell you. You forget, I'm a mainlander too. Don't let it upset you. Beth Tawes was a young girl who had a baby without having a husband. I guess that's all it took to make the gossip list back then. And dying tragically the way she did, I guess it just makes the gossip juicier.”

Moisture gathered in Bailey's eyes, and she blinked it away. “Did you know . . . Do you know your grandparents?”

“Me?” Cathy's eyes narrowed. “Sure. They're all still alive. My Dad's parents, Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop Miller, live on a farm across the road from the house I grew up in. My mother's family lives in Federalsburg. Why?”

“I never had that. I had a good mother and father. But no one else. No brothers or sisters, cousins, no grandparents, aunts or uncles. At least none that anyone had ever told me about. I was always closer to Mom; then after she died, Dad remarried. . . .” She swallowed, trying to dissolve the constriction in her throat. “I just have this need to
know
about them. And here on Tawes, I haven't gotten the answers. I've only got more questions.”

“You want to know about your mother—about Beth—even if what you find out isn't—”

“Knowing would be better than imagining the worst. Can you understand that?”

Cathy nodded. “Sure, I can. I had a beagle puppy when I was five. She got hit by a car and killed, but my parents didn't want to hurt me by telling me the truth, so they said she'd run away. I kept looking for her . . . calling her name. I used to pray every night that I'd wake up in the morning and find Cricket in the kitchen in her bed. Finally, Pop Allan, my mom's father, told me the truth, and he showed me where Cricket was buried behind the barn. I cried, but I put flowers on her grave, and I felt better. . . . Like you said . . .
knowing
.”

“I thought if I could find some of the family records in the church rolls—birth dates . . . deaths—that might lead me somewhere.”

“Right. So when do we start?”

“You'll help?”

“Why not? What are friends for?” She grinned mischievously. “After all, I'm an outsider too. Right?”

“Do you have time to go to the church with me now?”

“Sure. And I'm a member. Grace can't refuse me.” She started to walk in the direction of the church. “Come on. I've got time.”

Bailey hurried to keep up with her. “Grace didn't exactly—”

“I can imagine. You probably asked, and she probably made excuses why they—”

“Actually, it was Matthew. He said that his father, the last pastor, kept terrible records.”

“Right. But Matthew doesn't sneeze . . .” Cathy stopped to wave at a woman painting her front step. “Hi, Ellen!”

The woman raised her paintbrush and smiled.

“Be sure Ryan is at school tomorrow. He still needs help on his fractions if he's going to pass that test.”

“I will.”

“She's nice,” Cathy said. “Two kids, both boys. You'll have her oldest, Andrew, in your class. Very polite. Shy, but sweet.” She rubbed the front of her shirt. “Settle down there, Tarzan. I think he's swinging from tree to tree this morning.”

“Is it uncomfortable?” Bailey asked.

“No, just weird. Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember. Matthew's nose. He doesn't sneeze unless Grace gives him permission. She's devoted to him, fusses over him more like a mother than a wife. And she's done a lot of good for the town and for the church. I always thought she was a pastor wanabe. She's never stood up and given the sermon, but none of us would be surprised if she did.”

They crossed the street to the graveyard and entered by the main gate. “I can't say that I particularly like Grace, but she has been kind enough to loan me her bike. And she invited me to lunch after Sunday services.”

“Run. Run away. Avoid the parsonage lunches like the plague,” Cathy whispered conspiratorially. “Grace is the mistress of bad cooking. She bakes her chicken for an hour and a half.” Cathy pulled a pack of chewing gum from her pocket. “Gum?”

“No, thanks.”

“It helps with the heartburn. Anyway, if Grace can't drive nails with the drumstick, she puts it back in for another half hour. Her Maryland beaten biscuits are like stone, and she boils her vegetables until they're limp and tasteless.”

“Don't worry. I didn't intend to accept. Emma has
spoiled me beyond belief.” They stopped at the rear of the church. “I don't know—”

“Not that door. That leads into the sanctuary. That one there. Ah, yes, perfect Emma. Even my husband tells me I should take cooking lessons from her. He would trade our firstborn son for her oyster fritters.” A bell over the door rang as they stepped into an office area in a frame addition to the brick building. “The light switch is on the left.”

Bailey flicked on the lights. The room contained a desk, a table with six chairs, a computer and printer and copier, and a row of filing cabinets.

“What we want should be in there,” Cathy said. “Matthew may be unorganized, but Grace keeps everything shipshape around here. The older records would be at this end. So what we want is probably somewhere in—”