Healing Grace (35 page)

She poked at the baby’s foot again. If that John Harding thought he was such a good agricultural engineer, he should figure out an easier way to grow a baby.
Why, the man had gone ballistic at the most innocent of questions from Hart’s elderly partner-and-mentor’s wife, Ardyth.

Judy looked toward the place in the darkened dining room where the florid-faced Harding had sat, pounding his fist in response to Ardyth’s innocent question about when they could see the batteries for sale.

But Judy couldn’t figure out why Ardyth had cared that much about the battery. She hadn’t fussed about any of their other projects over the past four years. Worse, Hart and Bryce’s boss, Tim Crawford, had waffled, stating perhaps there might be a design flaw, after all.

She closed her eyes and put the cool glass against her forehead.

Not sleepy yet, Judy wandered around the moonlit kitchen. The drying towel was still a little damp under her fingers. The moaning cadence of a fire engine grew louder. The haze outside wove a blanket around the moon. That fire truck was coming their way. She waddled as fast as she could back up the stairs.

“Hart. Hart, wake up.” Judy shook his shoulder.

Hart turned his face on his pillow.

“Hart. Wake up! I hear fire engines.”

That got his attention. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, turned to the luminous face of the bedside clock, and moaned.

“Hart!”

“Yeah, Judy. Fire engines.”

Judy leaned over the bed, hand on his warm shoulder. “Hart.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. The fire…” He swallowed the last of his sentence in a huge yawn. “…department’ll take carevit. Go back—”

“There’s smoke. You can see it in the air. The fire must be a big one. Close by.”

She watched while Hart rubbed his face. “Okay.” He pushed himself upright, twisting his neck back and forth. “I’m getting up.” The phone gave a sputtery jingle and he made a grab, dropping the instrument before answering. “Yes?”

Judy sat down next to him, worried now. She rubbed again at her stomach. The baby must be doing summersaults, although how he or she managed to turn in such a tight space was a mystery.

“Barry, hi,” Hart said.

Barry?
Judy mouthed “Chief of Police?” at her husband in the dim light. She pouted when he frowned and turned away.

“At the office?”

Please, God, oh please, oh, please, keep everyone safe.
Judy reached for some clothes, stopping when Hart touched her forearm, shaking his head, still listening to the other end.

“I’m going over there right now—my prototype’s—I know, Barry, but I have to get there.” Hart pushed the off button and tossed the phone on the bed. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked as he rushed to pull on his own clothes.

“That was Barry Hutchinson, wasn’t it? The office is on fire. I’m coming, too.”

Judy swallowed her panic as she heard him grunt through the shirt he rammed over his head. “Oh, no, you’re not,” he said. “Look, you and Pancho stay here. Guard the house, okay? I can’t be worrying about you right now.”

She clutched her maternity jeans to her chest, feeling her heart jump with tension. “But I want to be with you!”

“I know, sweetheart.” Hart stopped and rubbed her shoulders, breathing hard. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Barry already called Bryce. I suspect Ardyth will be here soon. You can keep each other company.” He headed for the door, clawing a hand through his tousled brown curls. “Just go to work like usual if I’m not back.” Then he was gone.

Hart’s solar powered battery designs were all he’d talked about for the past two years. It was the most important project he and his engineering partner had for their fledgling satellite firm. What would he do if they were lost?
Oh, Lord, you can’t let anything happen to him. Not now. Not so close to the baby. Please, protect Hart and Bryce and all the firefighters out there.

Judy squared her shoulders. If Ardyth was on her way she had better be ready.

After dressing and going downstairs to put the kettle on, she sat at the chrome kitchen table to wait.

The screen door crashed open as Ardyth, wrapped in an orange floral satin quilted housecoat, rushed in, flapping her pink and gray plaid scuffs.

“Oh, my dear one, how dreadful! Are you all right? You’re not in labor or anything, are you?”

“Ardyth. Come in,” Judy said with dry exasperation. “We’re fine. I’m worried about the men. I feel so useless. What did Bryce tell you?”

Newly-wed Ardyth Edwards, at seventy-eight, had the spunk of Judy’s fifth-grade pupils. She heaved a sigh and plunked herself down on one of the red padded chrome kitchen chairs. “Just that their workshop, their very
life
was in flames. How could that happen?”

Judy set a cup of strong coffee in front of her friend. Ardyth untied the lime green chiffon scarf she’d placed over her curlers. “Thank you, dear. You are planning to go to school this morning, aren’t you?” Ardyth sipped. “What’s left, a week or two? You’re awfully strong to keep going like that while you’re expecting. I’m sure I wouldn’t have. Well, what can I do? What do you need? Something to eat? Here, let me look…”

Judy settled herself back onto her chair. “Let’s wait breakfast for a while, see if the men come back. I guess I’d better feed Pancho.” She heaved herself up again. “Hart said I should go to work. I have enough sick leave saved to take off, but I still have work to do on the Harriet Tubman program. I’ll go get ready after I finish my tea.”

Judy’s stomach rumbled. The piece of leftover strawberry pie she’d not had room for last night beckoned.
No, be good. Stay good. You’re doing fine with your weight, Judy, girl, no reason to ruin it now.
Judy watched Ardyth make herself at home in the big farm kitchen.

Ardyth spoke with her back toward Judy. “Imagine! Those men last night, coming all the way to Wisconsin to your workshop only to gripe at the last minute. I asked Mack if he was interested in being the first to show off a brand new invention at Robertsville Harvest Days on Labor Day. Now he may not get to. That John Harding is just plain trouble. Knew that from the start.”

“You didn’t tell Mack about Hart’s solar battery, did you? That’s company information!”

Ardyth folded her arms, making the loose skin above her elbows wiggle. “Of course not.”

Judy took as deep a breath as the baby would let her and willed her blood pressure back toward normal. “Hart said Harding’s job was to make sure everything worked right.” Judy didn’t know why she was defending the hateful company project manager. Except that she had no business hating him. She didn’t even know him. But he had hurt her husband.

While Hart had stumped her body language reading skills when she first met him after her great-aunt was poisoned to death, it didn’t take an expert to read disappointment, and maybe a little shell shock, in the slump of his shoulders and droop of his lips last night.

Ardyth set the kettle on and got out mugs. She looked in the refrigerator next, telling Judy, “That battery of ours is going to revolutionize farm machinery operation. Mark my words!”

“Ours?”

“Of course. Haven’t we sweated and supported our men while they designed it?”

“Not everyone agrees that green energy is the way to go.” Judy held her breath in preparation for Ardyth’s response.

“Ha! If I was in Tim Crawford’s shoes, I’d be sleeping with a gun under my pillow.”

“Oh, Ardyth.” But Judy wondered if Ardyth had a point. Did everyone at the company have as much loyalty in producing equipment to meet new government standards as her husband and his partner? How about Harding? Could he have wanted to see the new design fail?

Hart’s only comment had been, “Harding couldn’t drop work issues after our afternoon meeting. It doesn’t make sense to me. The man stood right out there in the field and watched the battery power up that old tractor of yours. But, we are a team. We don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the company.”

“I see your piece of pie is still in here. Would you like it?” Ardyth asked, holding the plate in front of Judy.

Well, strawberries were a fruit, and fruit was good for you, and the crust was sort of like bread…Judy reached for it. “Of course. I’m glad you kept the strawberry patch going out by the office.”

A little later, while Ardyth set out more leftovers from last night, Judy prepared for work.

She heard the men tramp in while she was in the bathroom, brushing her hair. Their voices sounded deep and excited. Kitchen chairs scraped.

Judy set the brush down and went out to meet them. Ardyth must have started another pot of coffee. “Well?” Judy asked. “What’s happening? Is everything okay?” She wrinkled her nose. “Whew! You smell like smoke.”

Hart answered. “They found something in the wreckage.”

“Oh no! Wreckage? Your office? The barn? You don’t mean—”

“Calm down, Judy,” Bryce said. “It was the barn, not the office. We’re insured.”

“But—”

“There was a body.” Stunned, Judy watched Bryce put his hands on his wife’s shoulders. Ardyth turned her face up to meet his faded blue eyes.

They knew something, but what?
Judy searched her husband’s grim, exhausted face for answers. “Body? As in dead person? Who—”

“John Harding,” Hart said. “That—”

“Hart. The man’s dead,” Bryce said.

“John Harding? Who argued right here at dinner tonight?” Judy swallowed the squeak in her voice. Hart’s direct contact at the home office of InventivAg had invented a whole new meaning to the word “pest” last night. She’d nearly spilled the gravy on him just to shut him up when he lost control of himself earlier that evening at what was supposed to be a pleasant meal for company representatives. He’d vehemently argued that Hart and Bryce’s invention could not possibly work in mass production, even after he watched the battery power up Bryce’s old tractor perfectly fine. All her efforts to impress Hart’s boss had been wasted.

“I know why he was there,” Hart said.

“The police are going to question all of us,” Bryce said. “You can’t go speculating, Hart.”

“He came back here, last night,” Judy said. “After you two left, Bryce. To apologize.”

She watched Bryce’s knuckles turn white as he squeezed his wife’s shoulders. Judy poured her husband a cup of coffee and went to stand with him at the window where the golden rays of sunlight arrowed across the fence on the other side of their driveway.

That rude man had sat right at her dining room table last night. Now, he was dead. Judy ought to feel something other than relief. She rubbed her baby belly. But could Harding, even dead, prevent the production of Hart’s battery?

Chapter Two

Hart decided there was no sense in worrying about something he had no control over. He said good-bye to Bryce, who hustled Ardyth away before she started cooking more food. He’d continue with his usual routine until…what? He got fired? Proved to be a terrible designer? What if his battery did have flaws?
Stop it, Hart. In all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. My designs have been for God’s purpose.

Encouraging Judy to finish getting ready for school by telling her he would fix breakfast, he opened the refrigerator and plucked out the bowl of brown eggs Judy bought from a neighbor, and set to work. While he heated the griddle, Hart heard the shower running where Judy sang in a slightly off-key contralto. “This is the day, this is the day…”

He grinned as the toast popped up.

Judy appeared in the doorway. “I’m still starving! I only had fruit so far.”

Hart had anticipated his wife’s hunger. Judy plopped down on a kitchen chair. “Madam. And miss.” Hart placed the warmed plate in front of her with a flourish. Judy giggled.

They held hands and prayed before Judy stuck her fork into his concoction of scrambled eggs and mushrooms sprinkled with fresh parsley from the window box. She should have taken some maternity leave from school, Hart thought as he watched her tuck the food away. But he knew she would go stir-crazy if forced to stay home. Selfishness aside, he would love to have her stay home to take care of the baby, but he respected her gift of teaching too much to ask her to do that.

And now, if something happened with the mess Harding caused by getting himself killed, Hart’s job might be in jeopardy. Not to mention his career and reputation, if Harding’s accusations kept his battery from production. They might have to count on Judy’s job for income, at least until he got back on his feet. But what would he do if he couldn’t be an engineer? The shame would be more than he could bear. They might have to move. And Judy…she loved this place. The farm had been settled by her pioneering ancestors. She wanted their child to know her heritage.

“Hart, about last night…”

He expected Judy might want to talk. He didn’t know what to tell her. But her next statement surprised him.

“Who’s Hugo?”

“What?”

“A couple of the men, um, I can’t recall their names. I heard them say Hugo. Something about Hugo’s people were going to die last night when they were driving away.”

“You must have heard wrong.”

“Well, I heard the name.”

“You probably heard someone talking about Hugo International. You know about them, Judy,” Hart replied. “They make four of the components we use in our engines. And they sell their own line of specialty equipment—backhoes and that kind of thing. But I don’t see how a company’s people could die. The company, maybe. They’re not doing so well.”

Judy had another question. “I was pretty mad at Harding last night, especially for what he said when he came back after supper.”

Pancho Villa crawled out from under the telephone stand and hissed.

“Pancho, buddy, what’s up? Judy already filled your bowl,” Hart said, stalling. “So, he made some comments about my battery.”

“And called the baby a project.”

“He didn’t mean anything. Like he said, we’ve all been under a lot of stress.”

“You tested your battery in front of him and it worked fine. Why was he against it?”