Deadly Echoes (9 page)

Cicely was quiet for a moment. “No,” she said softly. “Not yet.”

“I understand.” And I did. I remembered our aunt asking us about going through our parents' things after they died. It took us a while to be able to look at them. She wisely kept everything locked away until we were ready. I really missed her. Sometimes
I wondered how Hannah and I would have turned out had she lived. But thinking about that was useless. At least I could use some of Aunt Barbara's wisdom now to help Cicely.

“Are you going to keep my mother's car?” Cicely asked suddenly.

I shook my head. “I don't need a car in Sanctuary. Whenever I need to leave town, I can borrow Janet's.”

Cicely looked confused. “But how will I get to school?”

I smiled at her. “I showed you and your mom the school when you visited the first time, remember? It's only about two blocks away from where we'll be living.”

Cicely's eyes grew wide. “I'll be going to that little school?”

“Yes, and I'll be your teacher.”

She considered this. “That sounds okay. Sometimes I hate my school. Some of the kids are mean.”

“It will be different in Sanctuary.”

“Why?” she asked, sounding perplexed.

“Well, students are taught to respect their teacher. And each other.”

I felt her staring at me. “Really? How many kids are there?”

“We have almost thirty students now.” I smiled at her. “Of course, once in a while one of them can be mean too, but it's taken care of quickly. We don't allow that.”

“What do you do to them?”

“We sit them down and talk to them. Along with their parents. We remind them of what God says about walking in love. And then we pray together.”

She looked confused. “And that works?”

“Yes. Almost every time.”

Cicely shook her head. “Boy, I can't see that working at my school.”

I shrugged. “You never know.”

I waited while she chewed on that.

“So how does that sound?” I asked after a short pause.

“Pretty good. I don't like it when kids talk bad about their parents or treat the teacher mean. It makes me mad.”

“It makes me mad too.”

Except for small talk and a stop for burgers, that was about it for conversation on our way to Sanctuary. As the miles slipped away behind us, I prayed that God would give us strength for the days ahead.

The next couple of weeks passed by in a blur. Although I'd thought about having a viewing in Kansas City for Hannah's friends, in the end I decided against it. A woman named Claire, who worked with Hannah, offered to hold a memorial at her church. She took care of all the details and told me I wasn't expected to attend.

“You take care of Cicely,” she said. “I'll send you both some remembrances from the service.”

I was very grateful to her and accepted her offer. Trying to figure out everything with the insurance companies, contacting all of Hannah's creditors, getting Cicely's school records, working with the funeral home, arranging a funeral in Sanctuary, and putting in a change of address was keeping me busy from morning to night.

Hannah's funeral was held at Agape, and Jonathon preached the service. He did an incredible job, and I know what he said touched and encouraged Cicely. The turnout was amazing. It was like the whole town took it upon themselves to give Hannah an unforgettable funeral. After the service, the women in
Sanctuary held a dinner in the church dining hall. People went out of their way to greet Cicely and make her feel welcome. The people of Sanctuary made it clear that we were more than a town. We were a family.

Besides the renter's insurance policy, the human resources director from Hannah's job made sure I knew that there was also a small life insurance policy. It wasn't a lot, but it was more than enough to pay for transporting Hannah's body to Sanctuary, the cost for the funeral, and all of Hannah's final bills. In fact, there was enough left over that when things settled down, I could take Cicely furniture shopping for a bedroom suite that was more contemporary than the one she was currently using.

And we found most of Cicely's clothes in the boxes from Hannah's car. I finally asked Cicely if she knew why her mom had packed up so many of her things.

“I'm not sure,” she said. “Mom mentioned we might go on a trip. I thought maybe we were coming to see you. She must have packed this stuff the day before . . .”

She didn't finish her thought, but I knew she meant the day before Hannah died. I had no intention of telling her the truth about Hannah's real plans. To do so meant I'd have to tell her about the letter, and I wasn't going to do that. Besides, although I felt there was a real reason for Hannah's suspicions, I had to admit to a seed of doubt, especially because of the man sitting in jail in Kansas City. If he proved to be Hannah's killer, my sister would look paranoid and unhinged. That wasn't the way I wanted Cicely to remember her mother.

The other boxes contained a mixture of things. Pictures, a couple of books, Hannah's clothes, makeup, more papers, a Bible, some jewelry, and a few other personal things. It was interesting to see what she planned to take and what she left
behind. It was obvious these were the things she valued the most. I wondered about Mr. Whiskers. Had she planned to put him in the car too? I could only hope so.

My sabbatical was scheduled to end the first day of December. Including today, I only had four more days off. Reuben seemed to be holding his own in the classroom. I was a couple of months ahead in my lessons, so all he had to do was follow my plans. I'd walked over to the school a couple of times, and everything seemed to be going well. Cicely had elected to start school not long after we got back, and I was glad. It kept her busy instead of sitting around thinking about her mother. The other children were very kind to her, and she appeared comfortable in the smaller setting.

Paul had phoned to check on me since we'd gotten back, but I wanted to see him face-to-face, so I called to see if he had time to stop by. He seemed pleased to hear from me and agreed to come over. As I put the phone down, I thought about our relationship. I found myself wanting to see him more often, but I was afraid to tell him. What would he think?

When he arrived, I served us coffee in the living room. A fire crackled in the fireplace while we talked. I sat on the couch, my legs curled up beneath me, and Paul sat in the burgundy overstuffed chair. Murphy jumped up next to me and put his head in my lap.

I'd always felt peaceful in Janet's house and was secretly pleased to have moved back. I missed my cozy little apartment, but I was relieved to be at Janet's. She had gone out of her way to make Cicely's bedroom attractive. Although the first few nights were rough, now Cicely was sleeping better.

“So you told the detective about your parents' murder and about the orchids? How did he react?” Paul asked.

“He promised to look into it.”

“You didn't tell him about me, did you?”

“I came close. I mentioned the flowers lying on top of Hannah before I realized it was something I shouldn't have known.”

Paul's eyebrows shot up. “What did he say?”

“He asked me about it, but I covered it up. I told him I was just fishing for information.”

Paul sighed and shook his head, his dark eyes troubled. “And he believed you?”

I shrugged. “He seemed to.”

Maybe it was because I hadn't seen Paul for a while, but I was struck by how handsome he was. His kiss still lingered in my mind, and I found myself unconsciously touching my cheek.

I looked up to find him smiling at me. “You drifted away there for a moment. Everything okay?”

I nodded. “I guess. It's been tough. Dealing with Hannah's loss and adjusting to having Cicely in my life. It will take time, I guess.”

“How's Cicely doing in school?”

“Pretty good. At least it's a distraction. She seems to appreciate the smaller class size. The school she attended in Kansas City was very large, and I think she felt a little lost. Besides, some of the other children were . . . rough. Although she tries to act tough, Cicely's a sensitive child. Easily bruised. The children here are very kind to her. I'm hoping she'll make friends. I think that would help her a great deal. She doesn't seem to have many friends in Kansas City. She has a cell phone, but she rarely gets a call, and when she does, she doesn't talk very long.”

“Maybe she's on the phone more when you're not around.”

I shrugged. “That's not impossible, but I don't think so. It seems to me that Cicely and Hannah spent almost all their time
together. Neither one of them seemed to have developed close relationships in Kansas City.”

“You have several Conservative Mennonite children in your class, don't you?”

“Yes. About half the class, although all the children are from Christian homes. Parents are reluctant to let their children go to the secular school in Barnes. It's actually a very good school, but they don't emphasize religion there. Because the Sanctuary School is private, we can honor God in our curriculum. It's a good environment for Cicely. Hannah was a Christian, but I don't think she took Cicely to church a lot.”

He frowned. “You're not Mennonite, are you?”

I shook my head. “No. I attend Sanctuary Mennonite Church some Sundays, but I'm a member of Agape Fellowship.”

“Why do you visit the Mennonite church?”

“I guess it's because some of my students go there.” I shrugged. “I enjoy both of the churches. The pastors are wonderful, and I like the people. I know Conservative Mennonites may seem a little strict to you, but I agree with many of their beliefs. One reason I love Sanctuary so much is because of the simplicity I find here. In my last foster home, the TV was on all the time. They never turned it off. Between all the yelling, kids running wild, and the constant noise from the television, I had very little time to study or to even think. It's quiet here. Peaceful. My life is very satisfying now. I wouldn't trade it for anything.”

“I understand,” Paul said. “I really do. My parents fought a lot while I was growing up. Especially after Randy died. When they divorced, at least the fighting was over, but the anger was never resolved. Taking the job with Sheriff Bradford and moving to Fredericktown gave me a chance to get away. To build the kind of life I want. My dad lives in Arizona and my mom lives
in Iowa. And that's close enough for me. Besides, I love Missouri. If you want to enjoy life in the big city, you can drive to St. Louis. If you want to be out in the country, that's available too.”

“I feel the same way.” I smiled at him. “Paul, I want to thank you for everything you've done. You've been very kind.”

“You're welcome, but I really haven't been much help yet, I'm afraid.”

“I must admit I'm at an impasse. I don't know what to do next.” I shook my head. “I want to trust Detective Sykes, but it's been two weeks, and I haven't heard from him. They have a lot of cases in Kansas City. Closing as many as they can is probably a high priority. I hope Hannah's murder doesn't fall through the cracks.”

“On the phone you mentioned another police officer who took an interest in your case?”

“Yes. Captain Bentley. He was very nice. If Detective Sykes doesn't contact me soon, I might give the captain a call.” I smiled. “That's one of the reasons I'm so grateful to you. You're the only one who seems really committed to uncovering the truth. I can't find my sister's killer by myself. I'm certainly not a detective. It will take someone smarter than me to find out what really happened.”

Paul gave me an odd look. “You run yourself down quite a bit, Sarah. Why is that?”

Surprised by his comment, I shrugged. “I'm not trying to. I'm just telling the truth.” I felt my face flush with embarrassment. “I . . . I don't know. Compared to my sister . . .”

“Why are you comparing yourself to your sister?” He leaned toward me. “Forgive me if this seems personal, but I have some experience in this area. I have another brother, Sam, who is tall and good-looking. He's also rich and successful, and people flock
to him. I work as a deputy sheriff and live in a small town. I'm not the most handsome guy around, and frankly, I don't have that many friends. I used to feel like such a failure compared to him.”

“But you have a wonderful job. You help people. Sometimes at the worst moments in their lives. And I think you're extremely handsome.” Suddenly I realized what I'd said and put my hand up over my mouth. My face felt hot enough to melt. I quickly stood to my feet. “If you don't mind, I need to . . . I've got to . . .”

Paul stood up and came over to me. He grabbed my hands, pulled me back down on the couch, and then sat next to me.

“I don't know you very well, Sarah, but I want to tell you what I see when I look at you. May I?”

I nodded dumbly, so mortified by my behavior all I wanted to do was run upstairs to my room.

“I see a woman who cares about children. A brilliant, compassionate teacher who makes a lasting difference in the lives of her students. Someone who didn't think twice about taking in her sister's child, even though it would completely change her life. Someone who is loyal and brave. And very, very attractive with beautiful red hair and deep hazel eyes. Unfortunately, she doesn't see herself this way, because when she looks in the mirror, all she does is compare herself to her sister.” He sighed. “You're so unique, Sarah. God didn't want two Hannahs. He created one Hannah and one Sarah. He gave each one gifts and blessings. He didn't make one sister better than the other. He just made them different.”

I wanted to stop him. Wanted to ask why he'd say those things. I'd always felt I came up lacking when compared to Hannah. It wasn't that I was jealous. I was just . . . realistic.

“I don't mean to embarrass you,” Paul said, letting go of my
hands. “Maybe I've crossed the line here. If so, I'm sorry. It's just that I've been where you are. I wasted a lot of years under my brother's shadow. Years I can't get back.” He smiled. “I love my job, and I love my life. Now that I can see things clearly, I realize I wouldn't want my brother's life even if I could have it. He may be successful, but he's been married three times. His job is so stressful he doesn't really enjoy it anymore. And he hardly ever sees his kids.” Paul shook his head. “That's not what I want. And maybe, if you think about it, you may realize the same thing. That you'd never really consider trading your life for anyone else's.”

“I don't know what to say,” I said softly. “I'm sure you're right, but it's hard for me to see it. When we were placed in the children's home after our parents died, I overheard one of the women who worked there tell another staff member that she was afraid they couldn't place me because I was so plain.” I shrugged. “You don't forget words like that.”

Paul shook his head. “Yes, you do, Sarah. You forget them because they're wrong. I'm sure there was more to it than that.”

“Maybe. I mean, it was hard for older kids to find homes. And I was incredibly shy. There were some couples who asked to meet me, but I didn't talk much. I'm sure that didn't help.”