Irene Brand_Yuletide_01 (6 page)

The tension in the car was suffocating as thoughts they couldn’t express bounced from one to the other.

Janice’s eyes were luminous with unshed tears. He took her
proffered hand, squeezed it and lifted it to his cheek. “I’ll be your friend.”

Further words seemed unnecessary, so Lance reluctantly released her hand and started the car. They were silent during the short drive into Stanton.

Brooke had enjoyed her trip to the movies with Taylor and her mother. She chatted about it as Lance drove them back to the motel, so Janice and Lance didn’t have any time for private conversation.

When they got out of the car and Brooke ran into the motel, Janice said, “I appreciate your offer of friendship, but being my friend doesn’t mean you have to worry about my problems all the time. I’ll try to stay out of trouble for a few weeks—you’ll have your hands busy with getting the school year underway. You must have a large student body.”

Lance felt as if he’d been dismissed, and he wondered if he had been too forward in pushing his friendship on Janice. But she’d seemed receptive to the idea.

Trying to match her mood, he said, “There are about four hundred kids. We have kindergarten through the sixth grade.”

“Which is going to be a big adjustment for Brooke,” Janice said. “Please send me word if she needs any special help.”

“I will be busy,” he said, “but not too busy to help you. Please let me know if you need
anything.
”

She nodded agreement as she went into the motel. He watched her purposeful stride and ramrod-straight back, wondering why her attitude had changed so abruptly. He had intended to ask the Reids to attend his church tomorrow, but he didn’t want to push Janice too far. He’d only asked for her friendship, and he didn’t want their relationship to continue
beyond that point. He’d lived thirty years without any serious involvement with women. He liked living his own life. So why start up a relationship now?

S
itting in their motel room, as she partially listened to Brooke chatter about the movie, Janice wondered why she’d been so abrupt with Lance. The man had been a wonderful help today, and she’d enjoyed his company immensely.

The more she thought about it, she realized that she was afraid of Lance Gordon—afraid she’d become too dependent on him. The years before she’d been sent to VOH, she had to depend on herself. She’d allowed herself to be dependent on Miss Caroline, but at eighteen she left all of that behind. For the past three years she’d been on her own. Wasn’t it less traumatic that way? If you didn’t rely on anyone else, then you wouldn’t be disappointed if they failed you.

Miss Caroline had told her often enough that God was a friend who would help her through any circumstances. After she’d moved to Willow Creek and gotten a job, when she wasn’t working on Sunday morning, she’d sometimes gone back to VOH for worship services. But she’d gone mostly to see Miss Caroline, rather than to worship.

But now that she was responsible for Brooke, she should
take her to church. She moved to the window and looked at the church across the street from the motel. The date carved in the stone lintel above the door indicated that the gray stone building had been built in the early part of the twentieth century. A tall spire and columns graced the front of the church that was reached by six wide stone steps. Stained-glass windows added to the magnificence of the structure.

Squinting to read the worship hours on the lighted sign, Janice said, “Maybe we’d better go to church tomorrow. Sunday school starts at ten o’clock, but we can still sleep late, go downstairs to the breakfast bar and get to the church on time. Okay?”

“I guess so,” Brooke said with some hesitation, “but I won’t know anybody.”

“You’ll make friends easily enough, but we can skip Sunday school tomorrow and go to the worship service at eleven.”

“I’d like that better, and we can even sleep later.”

“That might be a good idea. You can’t sleep in Monday morning because school starts at eight.”

Brooke groaned, but it was a half-hearted response, for she was a good student and liked school. Going to school had never been a pleasure for Janice. About the time she’d gotten settled in one school, her parents would move. At VOH, because of her poor scholastic background, it had been an effort to keep up with her classmates. Janice longed for a college education, but she sometimes questioned whether she had the educational skills to get a college degree.

Long after Brooke was asleep, Janice lay awake contemplating her future. It would be weeks, maybe months, before she could have Mountjoy ready for occupancy. Her inheritance seemed like a fortune to Janice, but she knew it wouldn’t last long when she started renovating the house. If
she used all the money to give the house a face-lift, she would have nothing left for the upkeep of the house and living expenses.

How could she work to support them, go to school and be a mother to Brooke? Even if she took only part-time classes, she couldn’t do it at night or on Saturday because she’d have to look after Brooke. Perhaps she should have left Brooke with her foster parents until she had a home ready for them.

The longer she thought about it, the more desperate she became. Janice finally got out of bed and sat in a chair to sort out her options.

The chain store she’d worked for in Willow Creek had a store in Stanton, too. With her three years of experience, she could probably get a job any time. SuperMart provided health benefits and she had to consider that. Her insurance from the store would expire in three months, and without an income, she couldn’t pay for health insurance for the two of them. Even if she made Mountjoy livable, it would be two or three months before she could move there. She couldn’t afford to live in a motel and eat in restaurants during that time. Would she have to take an apartment after all?

And what about the mystery surrounding Mountjoy? Had her uncle been murdered? Would she ever feel safe living there?

Because of her lack of sleep, the last thing Janice wanted to do was go to church, especially with a new congregation where she wouldn’t know anyone. But she roused herself from the chair where she’d spent the night, showered and dressed. She woke Brooke, and while she took a shower, Janice went downstairs to the breakfast room and brought hot chocolate and rolls up to their room.

They arrived at the church just as the Sunday school classes were dismissed. An usher greeted them, handed each of them
a bulletin and motioned for them to follow him down the center aisle.

“Hey, Brooke.”

Taylor Mallory appeared behind them. “Hi, Miss Reid. I’m glad to see you. Mama told me I should have asked Brooke to come to Sunday school.” She took Brooke by the hand. “Both of you come sit with Mama and me.”

Brooke glanced at Janice—a question in her eyes. Janice nodded and smiled at the usher. “Guess we have a young guide this morning.”

“That’s fine,” he said and patted Taylor on the shoulder. “The Mallorys will look after you.”

As she followed the two children halfway down another aisle, Janice wondered if Lance would be sitting with his family. Linda Mallory was alone, but her smile of welcome was genuine.

“Thanks for choosing our church,” she said to Janice, and she moved over in the pew to make room for the two girls to sit between them.

The organ prelude had started and Janice said quietly, “We’re at the motel across the street and this seemed the likely place to attend.”

“I thought Lance would invite you to church. I guess in the excitement of looking over Mountjoy, he forgot it. He has mixed emotions about your property,” Linda said.

Janice grimaced slightly. “So do I.”

The organ music increased in volume as the choir moved into place. Lance followed the pastor into the sanctuary.

“Lance is the lay-leader for this month,” Linda explained quietly.

Lance’s eyes roamed across the congregation, and when he made eye contact with Janice, he looked surprised. Surely he
wouldn’t think she was taking advantage of his offer of friendship when she didn’t even know his family attended this church.

But he smiled in her direction, and when he welcomed visitors, he said, “Janice Reid and her sister, Brooke, have moved to Stanton. They’re sitting with my family this morning. Brooke will be starting school tomorrow.”

Janice sensed curious stares toward them, and she figured the congregation was linking them with the infamous local Reid family. To dismiss this dismal thought, she focused on the stained-glass window behind the choir loft that depicted the artist’s concept of Jesus and His disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee. The expressions on the faces of the disciples showed their fear of the storm, and Janice identified with their terror. Most of her life had been stormy and her fears had already etched faint lines on her face. She transferred her gaze to Jesus, noting the serenity on His face. The artist had depicted His concern for His disciples, when he lifted His hand and commanded the storm to cease.

Janice bowed her head and prayed that Jesus would calm the storms in her life. Her prayer was partially answered when she listened to the pastor’s message on friendship.

The pastor’s text was taken from the eighteenth chapter of Proverbs. “‘A man that has friends must show himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.’” The minister extolled the virtues of close friendships stating that Jesus was called the Friend of sinners. Janice knew that she was fortunate to have Lance’s friendship, especially when he expected nothing in return. That was the unselfish kind of friendliness Jesus expected of His followers.

She wished she wasn’t so hesitant to accept friendship, but Janice wasn’t at her best when meeting new people. After the
benediction, in spite of the pastor’s message, she quickly said goodbye to the Mallorys and left the church as soon as possible. She and Brooke had crossed the street, ready to enter the motel when a woman called, “Just a minute, Miss Reid.”

Janice turned to see a large woman, probably in her mid-sixties, bearing down on them like a battleship going into action. Her knees were bowed with arthritis and she favored her right knee as she hurried toward them. Because of her haste to intercept Janice, the woman was breathing heavily when she reached them.

“I’m Henrietta Cunningham,” she said, and apparently realizing that the name meant nothing to Janice, she explained, “I was your uncle’s housekeeper.”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Santrock mentioned that you’d worked for him during the last years of his life.”

“Your uncle was very good to me, and I want to help you any way I can. Let me take you and your sister out to lunch.”

For a moment Janice was horrified, thinking she was going to cry. She instantaneously had the feeling that Henrietta was another Miss Caroline. She was brusque where Miss Caroline was quiet; she was huge where Miss Caroline was small; she was dark where Miss Caroline had been fair. But like Miss Caroline, she was reaching out a helping hand.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course, I do,” Henrietta said, her brown eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t have said so if I hadn’t meant it. Let’s have lunch and then we’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I need advice more than anything else. Lance Gordon and his family have been helpful, but I’d like to talk to someone who knew the Reid family well.”

Henrietta steered her to the church parking lot adjacent to the motel. “On second thought, let’s go to my house to eat.
Restaurants are always crowded on Sunday. I often take someone home with me for lunch, so I’m ready for company.”

She stopped beside an old car that had a battered front fender. “Hop in,” she said. “I don’t live far from the church, but with my bad knees, I can’t walk any distance.”

Janice pulled forward the passenger’s seat of the two-door car, and Brooke scooted into the back seat. Janice sat beside Henrietta, who started the car, shifted the standard gears, roared the engine and shot out of the parking lot with a speed that jerked Janice’s head backward.

When Henrietta slammed on the brakes and crawled past the church, Janice saw Lance standing on the steps. She waved, wondering if he was looking for her.

Henrietta was a tall, stocky, mannishly built woman. Her hair, which had once been auburn but was now mostly iron-gray, was braided into a long pigtail and wound around her head like a halo. Her brown eyes were keen and penetrating.

She chatted about the morning service until they reached her home, a one-story brick house, located on a spacious lot two blocks east of the main street. Flower beds dotted the rich, green turf of her lawn. Baskets of blooming red geraniums hung from the porch ceiling. With scraping gears, Henrietta maneuvered her small car into the garage, then guided Janice and Brooke into the kitchen of her home.

“This is the first house I’ve ever owned. My husband and I lived in rented houses. And after he died, I took care of invalids. I’d move into their houses, sometimes for a year or two at a time, so I didn’t need a home. I was in demand all the time, for I gave good service, if I do say so myself that shouldn’t.”

Henrietta continued to talk as she put her purse and Bible on a dresser in the bedroom and shrugged into a large apron that hung on the back of the kitchen door.

“After the mansion got too much for your uncle to keep up, he bought this house and moved to town. I took care of him for about five years. Several weeks before he died, he deeded the house to me.”

With a glance at Brooke, she said, “Some people made nasty comments about it. But I’m a God-fearin’ woman, and I was John’s housekeeper and nurse—nothing more.”

The inside of the house was immaculate and Henrietta rustled around getting their lunch on the table. She removed a hamburger-and-rice casserole from the oven and gelatin salad from the fridge. She took a coconut cream pie from a kitchen cabinet and cut it into six pieces.

“Wow! And you didn’t even know you’d have company!” Brooke said, her eyes widening as she watched the speed with which the meal appeared on the table.

Henrietta laughed heartily. “Well, I like to eat, too,” she said, patting her ample stomach. “And never knowing when the notion might strike me to ask somebody to Sunday dinner, I always fix a little extra.”

After asking their preference of beverages, Henrietta poured a cola for Brooke, and made iced tea for Janice and herself.

Although Janice was eager to hear what Henrietta could tell her about her relatives, she listened quietly as their hostess chatted about the town of Stanton.

“Coal and oil money built this town, but the industries ain’t as thriving as they used to be. Business just about dried up during the Great Depression, then everything perked up during World War Two. Many of our businesses have closed now because they can’t compete with the big shopping centers. I can see why—I like to shop at malls, too.”

“The town of Willow Creek, where we used to live, has the same problems. I guess all small towns do.”

“Stanton is still a great place to live though. Our churches and schools are good, and we don’t have much crime.”

Apparently Henrietta hadn’t heard about the vandalism to Janice’s car.

“No drug problems among the teens?” Janice asked, with a quick glance at Brooke.

“Well, we hear rumors about drugs being bought and sold around here, but nobody’s been arrested.”

When they finished eating, Henrietta said to Brooke, “Missy, do you want to watch television while your sis helps me clean up? I’ll show you the best channels. I have cable, so there are lots of good shows to choose from.”

Janice had already rinsed and stacked the dishes when Henrietta returned. After she arranged the utensils in the dishwasher and put the leftovers in the refrigerator, Henrietta motioned to the table.

“Let’s sit in here. You said you wanted advice, and I thought you might not want to talk in front of your sister.”

“That’s true. I don’t know where to start.”

“I’ve got all day. Just say what pops in your head.”

“I don’t remember ever seeing my uncle. I was amazed when he named me in his will. Tell me about him.”