Divine Charity (33 page)

“Need a donut and some coffee to settle my nerves,” he muttered to himself. “Need to regroup. Plan.” She was havin’ that kid, he was certain. He’d know that pained moan anywhere. He’d enjoyed the sound as he walked away, liked the way it’d sent a thrill down his spine. Too bad he hadn’t gotten to her sooner. He could’ve grabbed her and listened to her moan and scream as she gave birth. Then he’d be done with her and have the one thing he wanted in all the world. His kid.

“Hello, sir, how can I help you?” a chunky, middle-aged woman said with a polite smile on her face.

The tag pinned on her blouse said her name was Cassie. There was flour dusted on her cardigan and the little coffee shop smelled good. He was willing to bet she could cook good and wondered why in the hell she wasn’t at home where she belonged. Maybe she didn’t have a man.

She had her pad and pen ready so he gave her his order and then took a seat in the corner, looking out a window on the main street. Had to keep vigilant. Couldn’t be too careful. He was still a wanted man.

He played scenarios in his head, and by the time she brought him his coffee and apple fritter, he had the beginnings of a good, solid plan worked out. He’d change his appearance first and then make another attempt at the hospital. The nursery was near the entry doors. If he timed it right, it could work. And if not, he also had the makings of a good backup plan in place.

He’d get his boy, come hell or high water.

* * * *

With the workday done, Presley Ann climbed the stairs to the apartment she shared with Leah. Shared. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. Presley Ann lived with her. Sponged off of her.

One more thing to be ashamed of.

Any time she paid her share of the rent, Leah actually showed surprise because it happened so rarely. A good money manager she was not. She’d always justified her lack of payment in the past because the job her dad had given her didn’t pay all that well. She’d shifted the blame to him, but the truth was she’d never pursued her commission sales with much vigor so that, too, was her fault. She knew her dad made up the difference every month for her rent with her sister. Being Leah’s gold-digging roommate was just one more way she’d failed at showing independence.

That’s changing now.

She’d seen Leah sitting out on the balcony, her feet propped up and a longneck bottle in her hand when she’d pulled up. Maybe she could have that talk with her now. She felt like they hadn’t shared more than the briefest of conversations in days. Every time she saw Leah, her sister looked more drawn, more grief-stricken, and she hadn’t felt it was right to intrude on that. It was a painful reminder that she wasn’t the only one with troubles.

As Presley Ann opened the front door, she heard George Strait playing on the stereo. She dropped her keys and purse on the side table by the door. “Marina Del Rey” filled the apartment but some instinct told Presley Ann not to call out. The French doors leading out to their balcony were wide open and the soft spring air filled the space, the scent of the blooming mountain laurels planted in front of the apartment building wafting through.

Presley Ann stopped in her tracks and scanned the space for some hint of what was wrong. Leah was fastidious about not leaving the air-conditioning on while the windows or doors were open. It was a waste of hard-earned money she always said. A check of the little box on the wall verified that the AC was humming right along, “cooling the great outdoors” as Leah would say.

Leah sat so still in the lounge chair on the balcony, Presley Ann might’ve thought she was asleep but then she lifted the longneck bottle to her lips. After taking a sip, she lowered the hand holding the bottle until it hung just an inch above the balcony floor and stayed there, little drips of condensation forming a circle on the cement.

“Leah?” Presley Ann could barely hear her voice and doubted Leah had either. The last verse of the song played as she quietly stepped over to the open doors. The soft breeze caught Leah’s pixie-cut brown hair, but she didn’t turn if she’d heard her. The odd thing was that Leah had always been a high-energy person, rarely ever sitting still, always busy, always pitching in where needed. To see her so still set Presley Ann on edge.

The barest movement of her head turned a portion of her profile into view as she lifted the bottle again. Leah rarely ever drank anything besides iced tea or water, even on those few occasions they’d gone out together to the Dancing Pony and the Twisted Bull. She emptied the bottle and set it on the floor, and Presley Ann noticed that her hand was wrapped in a gauze bandage, around the palm.

George Strait’s voice sang on, the song adding a texture of emotion that charged the atmosphere with sadness, or maybe that was coming from Leah.

“‘Marina Del Rey’ was his favorite song. He’d tell me that if he could just get me out on the dance floor while good ol’ George was singing that he could win my heart.” Leah’s voice cracked with the last words. Still she didn’t move. Presley Ann looked down at the threshold and scuffed the toe of her flat over it.

“What happened?”

“He’s gone. Died earlier today.”

Sorrow for her sister sliced through her heart. That explained why she hadn’t come home the night before. Knowing Leah, it was likely she’d spent his last night at the hospital with him. She was good that way. Strong.

Presley Ann swallowed and stepped out onto the balcony and turned the other chair so that she faced her sister. Leah’s hazel eyes were bloodshot and dull, and her face was expressionless as she scanned the pastoral view from their balcony. With her hands in her lap, and her feet propped up on the other chair, she was utterly motionless except for the wisps of her hair that the breeze toyed with around her shoulders. She noticed that both of Leah’s hands were wrapped in gauze, in the same manner.

“What happened to your hands?”

Leah turned them palm up and looked at them as if only just noticing them but shrugged. “Would you mind getting me another beer?”

“Sure.” In the kitchen, she paused as she reached for one of the beers that had been sitting in the refrigerator door since winter. She vaguely remembered Patterson Elder coming to the apartment with that six-pack of Miller Genuine Draft in one hand and Lonesome Dove on DVD in the other.

Presley Ann had been wrapped up in her own little world at the time but she recalled the way Leah had blushed when she’d realized who was at the door. He’d told her sister that she worked too much and that he thought it would be a good idea for her to relax with a good movie for a while. Then he’d stayed and watched it with her. He’d drunk two of the beers and the rest had still been in the refrigerator the next day. There they’d sat until today.

A painful ache grew in Presley Ann’s chest. As far as she knew, Patterson had only ever been nice to her sister, a gentleman, and had in fact even been kind to Presley Ann even though she’d given him no good reason to do so. She regretted that, too.

She popped the top off of one of the bottles and rejoined Leah on the balcony. Leah thanked her softly when she held out the ice-cold bottle.

“He told me he’d drink the rest the next time he came to visit me.”

“Did he?”

Leah nodded and took a sip. “He tried to come over several times but I made him take a rain check each time. Now he’s gone.” She set the bottle on the cement, her gaze still on the fields of coastal grass and wildflowers that grew across the road from their apartment building. “I remember you telling me you wanted to talk to me about something.”

It seemed the worst possible moment to bring up her situation but she nodded. “I did. But I don’t think now is a good time…”

“It’s as good as any, sis. What is it?”

She paused for long seconds, grasping for words, and then decided to just be straightforward. “I’m moving out. If all goes according to plan, sometime next week.”

Leah frowned and really looked into her eyes for the first time. Presley Ann wanted to get away and avoid this whole conversation. But when was it ever going to be a good time?

“Why?”

“I’m expecting.”

Leah’s expression fell even further and she gazed at her with eyes filled with disbelief. “You are joking.”

Feeling about two inches tall under her sister’s withering gaze and unable to defend any remarks, she shook her head. “No. I’m due sometime in November.”

“Awesome, not only are you letting Daddy pay your rent, now you’re going to move back home and let him take care of everything.”

It stung but she let it go. Her sister had a right to jump to the wrong conclusion and she was no shape to argue with.

“No, I’m moving out on my own.”

Leah scoffed. “Good luck with that. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

Presley Ann rose from the seat, the ache in her heart billowing and increasing. She’d suspected Leah would react that way, even under the best of circumstances, and she couldn’t blame her. Somebody she cared about had just died. That trumped hurt feelings. Now her main concern was making the move happen.

Before she turned away from her sister, she put her hand on her shoulder. Leah shrugged it off and said, “I’m so done with you and all your bullshit. It’ll be nice having the place all to myself again.”

Presley Ann nodded. “Dad’s aware of my plans. When I talked to him I mentioned that you were going through a rough spell and he said he’d send someone from the store in Morehead to help out or fill in where needed.”

Leah cursed softly, surprising Presley Ann. “Awesome. You told him I’m having a hard time? Now he’ll start micro-managing again. Just what I needed.”

“I don’t think that’s what he intended at all. He said he was sending you help. That’s all. He didn’t say he was coming, too. He said you haven’t been taking his calls or returning his messages. I think he just wanted to help.”

“We’ll see. You passed on the message. Thanks.” Leah frowned as she looked down at the beer bottle in her hand and used her thumbnail to scrap loose the label.

Presley Ann put her hand on Leah’s shoulder one more time and this time her sister didn’t shrug it off. “Sis, I’m really sorry about Patterson.”

Leah’s face fell and her chin quivered. Her only response was to tilt her head over so her cheek rested briefly on Presley Ann’s hand. “Thanks. Close the doors on your way in, will you? We’re cooling the great outdoors leaving them open like this.”

“Sure.” She closed the doors quietly behind her and tears stung in her eyes when she saw Leah’s head fall into her hands and the sounds of soft, pain-filled sobs filtered through the window glass.

Her heart knew that even though the harsh words had been directed at her, Leah was just lashing out at the unfairness of the world. She wished she could do something to ease that pain but the only thing that would ease it was time.

Setting out to do something productive, she went out to her car and brought up the load of flattened cardboard boxes and roll of tape she’d gotten while in town. After popping several open and taping the bottoms, she pulled open her walk-in closet double doors and surveyed the sheer quantity of expensive designer crap she’d accumulated over the last few years. “What was I thinking?”

The original plan had been to keep only her favorite pieces and take the rest to the resale boutique in San Antonio. Sick of the constant internal debate, weighing the pros and cons of keeping each pair of shoes, accessory, purse or item of clothing, she finally said “fuck it” and gave almost the entire closet a heave-ho. Hopefully she’d come away from that resale boutique with enough money to cover the cost of maternity clothing for her and baby clothes for her little one.

Looking down, she caressed her still flat belly and said, “It’s you and me, peanut.”

Knowing the hurt Leah was suffering through down the hall put her own situation into a whole new light. She could do this.

* * * *

“Ready to do this?” Justin asked, holding her helmet in his big capable hands while Charity finished braiding her hair and tied it off. It was Saturday morning and they’d just exited the funeral home where Patterson Elder’s memorial service had been held. She nodded as she took the helmet Justin offered her. Her head swam at the unreality of it all. The grief was sharpened by the fact that she’d seen him alive just hours before the accident. So alive, so fun-loving, so very Patterson.

The last radio call, which had been done at the end of the funeral echoed in her memory.

“114…114…Calling Divine 114…No answer Divine 114…Divine 114 out of service. Gone but not forgotten. Rest in peace, our friend.”

Her heart ached for all of her friends who were involved in law enforcement. Patterson had been well known and his death had rocked the community. Respectful tributes were visible everywhere, including American flags flying all over Divine at half-staff, mourning bunting draped at the police department and sheriff’s department offices, and badge shrouds being worn by all law enforcement officers.

Justin, Val, and Ransome readied themselves as the casket was wheeled from the side doors of the funeral home and loaded into the hearse for transport to the Elder family plot in the Divine cemetery.

Charity knew there was no explaining why death visited some families in clusters but she prayed that the Elder family didn’t suffer any more losses for a long time. The Elder brothers had also lost their mother to a traffic accident involving a drunk driver only a few years before.