Livvie's Song (22 page)

Clem Dodd hadn’t changed a bit, not counting the wrinkles and caked-on dirt he and the others had accumulated over the years. Will hoped he’d convinced them that he had no idea as to the loot’s whereabouts, and that he had, in fact, given his heart to God, so that he wouldn’t have kept it, even if he had hidden it somewhere. After a quick prayer that Clem and his cohorts wouldn’t do anything stupid, he dragged himself up, stepped out of the tub, and began toweling off. Next, he reached for his jeans and the T-shirt he’d laid out on the linoleum floor. Tonight would be a good time to search the Scriptures for a fresh dose of strength and encouragement. Maybe he’d even write a long letter to Harry. High time he brought his friend up-to-date on all the latest happenings. Too bad he didn’t feel more optimistic at the moment, especially in light of the impressive turnout they’d had at the first Family Feast. Harry would be proud of the way he’d readjusted to the world outside prison, finding a good job and a fine church, making friends, and even taking a couple of fatherless boys under his wing.

A loud rap sounded at his door, ending his musings. His mind went on immediate alert, and his first thought was that Clem and his boys had broken into the building, or that he’d forgotten to lock the outside door, but wouldn’t he have heard them in the hallway? Besides, he distinctly recalled turning the key in the lock and then hanging it on the hook by the door when he’d stepped inside his apartment. Having no gun in his possession, he went for the next best thing—an old broomstick. Holding it as he would a baseball bat, he prepared to strike the first thing that moved. But, when he opened the door just a crack, all he saw was a perturbed-looking strawberry blonde, arms folded across her heart, hazel eyes narrowed, and mouth set in a stubborn line.

He lowered the broom and lifted his eyebrows. “Livvie? Is everything all right?”

“Of course not. May I come in?”

“Um….” He stepped aside, opened the door, and gestured with an outstretched arm. “Sure, be my guest.”

She marched right past him almost before he’d gotten the words out, then quickly swiveled and stared at him face-on, looking prettier than anything he’d ever seen with her hair mussed, her eyes shimmering like wet gold, and her expression fiery and unwavering. “All right, Will Taylor. It’s time you told me who you really are.”

***

“What? Haven’t I already told you?”

Was he kidding? “Not enough, you haven’t. All I know is your name, and a few tidbits about your family.”

“Ah, so you’ve been thinking you’d like to get to know me better. Is that it? Funny, I’ve been thinking the same about you,” he said with a devilish grin. It took all of her resolve not to give in to that charming wit. “How ’bout you start?” he asked, winking.

“How ’bout not?” She smiled pertly. “I want to know the name of the restaurant where you worked in New York, exactly why you left that job, and the name of your former employer, so I may call him.”

His put-on smile faded as his shoulders dropped a notch. “All that, huh?”

Continuing the stare-down, she put her hands on her hips and waited. He remained silent, so, she added, “I heard some men talking under my window a while ago. They mentioned your name and something about some stolen jewels. I’m pretty sure they’d just left the restaurant, because I heard the screen door slam, which tells me one thing. They stopped in to see you.”

His mouth formed an o before he bit down on his lower lip and gave a slow nod. “What exactly did you overhear?”

“Uh-uh. I’m not giving you a chance to come up with more lies. I want the truth, and I want it now, or I’ll….” She chose to keep the alternative open-ended.

“Fire me?” he suggested.

“Maybe.”

“I figured you might, so that’s why I’ve been somewhat private. I don’t think you really want to hear the whole truth, Liv. It’s not a very pretty story.”

Frank had called her Liv, and she’d always liked it, but she didn’t know how she felt about hearing it from Will. Didn’t he have to earn the right to use her nickname? Her stomach tied itself into a fast knot. “You might as well go back to the beginning. For starters, why did you have to jump a freight train to come to Wabash? If you left a decent job in New York, wouldn’t you have saved enough money for the fare?”

He moved behind her and closed the door. “Hm. Did I ever say it was decent?”

He had her there. Clearly, she’d made too many assumptions about this man. “If you didn’t like your job, why on earth did you jump into another restaurant position?”

“Because I love to cook.”

“But you just said—”

“You want something to drink?” He gestured at his own tiny kitchen, where a vase of fresh-cut flowers adorned the little counter. “I have some lemonade in the fridge.”

It did sound refreshing, but she shook her head. “What I want are answers, Will.” No point in telling him how lovely the flowers looked, or how impressed she was by his wish to brighten up the otherwise drab little space. What kind of man did that?

He sighed, lowered his head, and rubbed his chin, as if feeling for his absent beard. “Are your boys sleeping?” His voice went suddenly hoarse, and she wondered if his nerves had started jangling.

“They are, and, considering how tired they were, they won’t wake up till dawn.”

“That’s good.” He gestured toward his living room, where the old sofa with the protruding spring rested against the dull blue wall. Above it, a lackluster painting she’d purchased at a secondhand store hung, slightly crooked. “Sit down?”

“Fine.” She moved to the frayed chair next to the couch and settled into it. The sun had set and given way to dusk, and Will leaned over to pull the chain on the ancient lamp beside the sofa before lowering his muscular frame onto the seat cushion. Low light filtered through the sparsely furnished room, revealing a Bible with a well-worn black cover on the small corner table at one end of the sofa. The sight of it wove a web of tangled emotions in her heart. What would she do if she found out that keeping Will in the kitchen would put her boys and her in harm’s way? She’d have to let him go, wouldn’t she? The very notion set her heart to thumping, for as much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, she’d grown attached to him. Furthermore, as far as she could tell, he was a much better person than she, a man of faith and integrity. What part could he possibly have had in stealing jewels?

For the span of a minute, they sat in utter silence and stared at each other, she awaiting some sort of confession, he apparently trying to decide where to start. He lifted one of his big legs and crossed it over the other, then clamped hold of his bare foot around the ankle. The sight made her feel surprisingly vulnerable. To her best recollection, she’d seen only two men barefoot—her husband and Margie’s—and something about seeing Will in such a primitive, untailored state sent her pulse spinning. Not only that, but a dim shaft of light from the glowing lamp struck his damp, chestnut hair and made it gleam in a way that caused a strange surge of affection to swirl inside her, even as she clenched her jaw and fought the ridiculous feeling.

“Well?” she said, peering at his chiseled face. She forced her shoulders back to preserve her sense of control and clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. “Are you going to start talking, or do you want to answer my questions one at a time?”

Sober as a stick, he blinked twice and cocked his head. A loose lock of hair fell across his forehead, so he brushed it away with one hand, then clasped his ankle again. He lowered his gaze, his eyes trained on something off to her side—a chair? A book? She couldn’t be sure. Then, he cleared his throat. “Those fellas you heard tonight…I used to run with them several years ago, and one of them…well, you’ve seen him before.” He let his eyes connect with hers again.

“I have? Where? When?”

“The guy with the gash on his face who spooked you the other night—he’s been hanging around town, first to find my whereabouts, and then to watch what I’ve been up to and scope out the place.”

She held her breath. “Who is he, and who are those other men?”

“You want the plain truth?”

She nodded slowly.

“They’re crooks.”

“Crooks? Then, that would make you—”

“The same thing, yeah, but in the past tense. Livvie, I served time in jail. Correction: a state prison. Welfare Island State Penitentiary, to be exact. It’s in New York.”

“And the restaurant…?” she asked, unable to control the sudden quivering in her voice or tamp down the deep sense of dread pounding in her head.

“…was not a restaurant at all but the prison kitchen.”

She pressed her mouth shut, drew her brow into a deep frown, and breathed in several gulps of air before letting them back out, her hands leaving her lap and grabbing hold of the arms of the chair. “Prison?” she whispered. “For how long?”

“Ten years. Ten long years.”

“So”—she could hardly speak the words—“you actually stole some jewelry?”

“Afraid so.” With the back of his hand, he wiped his brow, which glistened with beads of sweat. “I went along with those goofs on a number of petty crimes. I had little to live for back then—no sense of purpose—and I found a sense of belonging with those guys. Fact is, I’d considered different ways of ending my life before I met that gang of no-goods. Once, I tried to jump off the roof of a five-story building, but, even then, I failed like a soaked match.” He cut loose a hollow chuckle. “I didn’t have the courage to go through with it.”

Livvie’s shock silenced her for a moment. “Well, of course you didn’t,” she finally managed. “And it’s a good thing. Everyone has some reason or another to go on living. Life is never completely without purpose.” Had she truly said that? She couldn’t even count the times she’d tried to search for meaning, herself, after Frank had died. Yes, she had her precious boys, but the deep pain of her loss had sometimes gripped her so hard, she’d found it nearly impossible to drag her limp body out of bed, even for the sake of her sons. She’d never confessed this to Margie, but, for several weeks following Frank’s accident, her boys had had to rouse her from sleep and plead with her to go downstairs to work. Thankfully, Joe, Cora Mae, and the other waitresses she’d employed then had always seen to it that the restaurant opened on time. As far as she knew, folks saw her as staunch, strong, and stable, never suspecting otherwise! She was struck with the realization that she’d had fewer and fewer bad days since Will’s arrival. Why, he’d even handled that tiresome pair, Charley Arnold and Roy Scott. Granted, they hadn’t been dining at her place nearly as often, but the new customers who came to check out the handsome new cook more than made up for their business.

“I learned the purpose of life in prison, of all places, thanks to Harry Wilkinson,” Will continued. “He was the head cook there, and I wouldn’t be a Christian today if he hadn’t told me about God’s love and forgiveness. The way he presented the gospel message made it seem so appealing. I mean, after my little sister drowned, I’d pretty much lost all sense of being loved and accepted, let alone forgiven. But with God, I had this chance at a clean slate. That sounded good to me. And surrendering my heart did something else: it took away my anger and resentment. For years, I’d blamed God for not preventing Joella’s death, when, really, it wasn’t His fault, or even mine, and it certainly wasn’t my sister’s. It was simply her appointed time to leave this earth. Once I started looking at it that way, my whole attitude changed, and my behavior took a turn for the better. Only God gets the credit for that.”

Almost moved to tears, she chewed her lower lip, trying to decide how to respond. It was amazing how, in a few short minutes, his admission of his past sins had prompted her to think about her own short-
comings. In the course of Will’s brief yet candid confession, she had recalled all the times she’d blamed God for Frank’s accident, never once considering that she might be wallowing in self-pity and neglecting her own sons. Additionally, her once-strong faith had all but disappeared.
Lord, forgive me
, she prayed.
I’ve been a terrible example to my sons
.
When I should have been praising You in spite of my grief and looking for ways to honor and bless Your name, I let my trust in You wither and wane. Please, help me find my way back.

“I can be gone tomorrow, if you want,” Will went on. “I don’t want to cause any problems for you. I’m pretty sure if I left town, Clem and his sidekicks wouldn’t hang around. I misled you, Livvie, and I’m eternally sorry about that. Believe me, if I’d suspected for a second that they’d come looking for me, I never would have taken this job. I just hope you and your boys will forgive—”

“Will,” she interrupted him.

“Yes?”

Her fingers fidgeted with a little tear in her apron hem as she scrambled to find the right words. “You’re not going anywhere,” she heard herself say.

“I’m not? I honestly think it’d be best for everybody if I did.”

“At first, I thought the same,” she admitted, “but I don’t see what that would accomplish. I’d have no cook, and do you know how long we looked for someone to replace Joe? Weeks. If you left now, I might be forced to close down.”

A thoughtful expression washed over his face, tanned bronze from the few afternoons he’d gone down to the river to fish with one of Frank’s casting rods. “You do make a point. And what would become of the Family Feasts?”

“Exactly. I received nothing but glowing remarks about the meal, and I would hate for the plan to die overnight.”

“I just hope Clem and his cronies don’t come back seeking revenge. That’s my only concern. It wouldn’t be good if news got out about my prison term, either. I’m afraid there’d be plenty of talk, not that I’m worried about my reputation, but I don’t want folks thinking ill of you for hiring me.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think you have to worry too much about those fellows. Two of them said they were going back to New York on the next train.”

“That’d be Rudy and Hank.”

“Yes, those were the names I heard. The other seemed determined to stay. Said he wouldn’t be sharing the pie with the rest of them.”