Livvie's Song (27 page)

Now he did touch the tip of her damp nose. “Only because I thought you might have hurt yourself, Mrs. Beckman.”

She stood slightly uphill from him, which brought their faces dangerously close—close enough to kiss. But he didn’t dare do that. Instead, he took a small step back and glanced behind him at his fishing pole, still lying on the ground, a night crawler dangling from the hook. “Do you want to at least go back to your apartment and change out of those wet clothes?” he asked.

“Why? It’s hot today. Look over there.” She pointed upriver. “Some folks are even swimming.” Sure enough, a family of five was wading and splashing around near a sandbar. “We’ll both dry if we stay in the sun.”

He couldn’t help but give her face a thorough assessment. If there were any flaws, he couldn’t find them. Matter of fact, he couldn’t name one woman he’d met whose looks matched hers. “If you’re sure, then.”

She put her hands on her hips and straightened her posture. “I’m stubbornly certain.”

“You’re stubborn, all right.” He turned and walked back to where he’d left his fishing gear. “All right, then. Let’s start with how to bait a hook.”

“Wait. I don’t want to actually touch anything but the fishing pole.”

“How do you expect to learn the sport if you won’t bait a hook?”

“I just want to hold the pole,” she stated again, stepping up beside him. All traces of her smile had vanished.

He scratched the back of his neck. “All right, madam. I’ll bait your hook, but you have to watch me do it.”

“I might just do that.” She crouched down beside him, and her hips brushed his side.

If she only knew what she did to him!

***

The two of them had been at this fishing business for almost two hours, and they’d talked almost nonstop, covering so many topics, she’d lost track of them all. The latest subject was the Saturday night dances and how Margie would be scandalized if she found out that her little sister had gone up there. “She thinks it’s a place where sinners gather,” Livvie told Will.

“Could be that it is,” he replied. “But Jesus spent a lot of time mingling with sinners. How can we expect to reach people for Christ if we never rub shoulders with them? Wherever I go, I try to let my light shine, whether it’s up on that stage playing my harmonica or just talking to people. I guess prison life kind of taught me how to do that. Now, if you want to see a den of iniquity, visit the state pen!”

He made a good point. Maybe she’d raise it with Margie—if she ever mustered the courage.

She had laid down her pole long ago, deciding she didn’t need to fish in order to enjoy the warmth of the sun’s rays while she sat on a stump by the water’s edge. Besides, Will had caught five fish to her one, and what was the fun in that? Fishing required too much patience, something she didn’t have in large reserve.

“Have you seen that Clem character since the night he and his friends paid you a visit?” Livvie decided to ask.

Will shook his head. “Not so much as a sign of him. I’m pretty sure they all went on their way.”

“That’s a relief. You must have done a good job convincing them of the truth.”

“I’m praying that’s the case. Don’t want to see any of their faces ever again, unless it’s a snapshot in some newspaper when they’re sentenced to prison.”

“Do you think they’re still committing crimes?”

“Oh, no doubt—small ones, most likely.”

“And they’ve never been caught?”

He shook his head and reeled in his line, then cast it in another direction. “It’s just dumb luck that they haven’t.”

“The Lord has truly changed you, hasn’t He?”

“He’s working on me, I’ll say that.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Seems to me He’s working on you, as well.”

“I think you’re right. Attending church again has helped a lot. The sermons always speak to me.”

“Funny, I thought they were meant for me.”

She smiled. “Thanks for inviting the boys and me. We needed to get back to church, and Alex and Nate really like their Sunday school teachers.”

“And Mr. Constant does a fine job of teaching the adult class, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he raises interesting questions for us to discuss,” she agreed. Even this afternoon, she’d spent time mulling over their recent study of the book of Acts, specifically, the many miracles wrought by God and the formation of the early church. “At our last class, someone raised the question of whether God still performs miracles today. I didn’t have anything to contribute to the discussion, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

He took his eyes off the floating bobber several yards out and looked at her. “And what were you thinking, Livvie?”

She folded her hands in her lap. “That He’s working a miracle in me right now.”

He nodded several times and grinned. “I like that.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, until she picked up a good-sized stone and threw it in the water. As planned, it landed close to his bobber.

“Hey! Watch it, young lady,” he admonished her with a mock glare. “You’re scaring away my fish.”

She crossed her bare feet at the ankles and smoothed out her skirt, which was finally dry, albeit wrinkled. Her cheeks stung with sunburn, and she regretted not having worn her hat for most of their earlier outing. “I’ll confess, I tagged along with you today intending to make a pest of myself. Did I do a good job?”

The sound of his laughter was warm, rich, and deep. “I’d say you more than succeeded.” When he turned and looked at her, she didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye.

“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.”—Psalm 103:8

With the aid of his stolen binoculars, Clem had watched Will and Livvie all afternoon from behind an abandoned railroad car, and he’d quickly grown weary of their constant blather and intermittent laughter. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make out a word they said, but he sure did see their mouths going at it. That they got on so well irked him to no end. Taylor didn’t deserve the attentions of that kind of woman. She was much too refined for him. Did she even know that the stupid fool had spent ten years behind bars? Maybe Clem needed to send her another anonymous note to inform her about Taylor’s past. And another thing: Why in the world wasn’t she wearing her new dress? He’d thought she would’ve put it on the first chance she got. Instead, she wore that tattered yellow thing. Surely, she appreciated her gift. Man, what he wouldn’t have given to watch her open it!

Around four o’clock, they started to gather their belongings and make ready to leave their fishing site, from the looks of it. Clem focused the binocular lenses and watched Will fetch Livvie’s fishing pole from the ground. As he handed it off, Clem thought he detected some significance in the way he looked at her. Did Taylor honestly think he stood a chance?

Disgust curdled at the bottom of his gut. If anyone could make her truly happy, he could. He had the know-how to make a lot of money; he just needed to pull off one good heist—maybe right here in Wabash, where he had his choice of banks—and he’d be sitting pretty. He’d never robbed a bank by himself before, but he had enough confidence in his abilities to know it could be done.

He scratched the deep scab on his left cheek and thought about his loser of a wife, wondering if he oughtn’t contact her to let her know he’d send her the money for a divorce. When he’d first laid eyes on Olivia Beckman, he’d known he’d found the woman of his dreams at long last, and he couldn’t get out of his marriage to Flo fast enough.

***

Weeks passed, and, before anyone could figure out how it’d happened, the hot, humid days of August were upon them. The Family Feast nights were becoming almost more than three adults could handle on their own, and so, with fear and trembling, Livvie took Will’s encouragement to heart and hired an assistant cook—a middle-aged, dark-skinned man named Gus Anderson, who had plenty of kitchen experience, having worked at various establishments around town for more than a decade. She also hired an additional waitress, Georgia McIntire, whom she’d employed before having to let her go in light of the hard times that followed Frank’s death. As it turned out, the girl had just lost her job in a factory that had closed, and she’d been ecstatic when Livvie had asked her to return to the restaurant. Will had assured Livvie that the extra help would make things flow easier and benefit everyone, as the improved service would stimulate business and thereby increase revenues. It would also allow Livvie, Cora Mae, and Georgia to take off one morning per week, and the news had nearly sent Cora Mae into a fainting spell.

The longer Will had worked at Livvie’s Kitchen, the more he’d come to love it, and his passion for cooking and baking had grown ever stronger. Yet, while the boom in business was good news for the restaurant, it demanded more of his time and energy, and laboring day after day in a hot kitchen had started to take its toll. So, he was forever grateful to Livvie for agreeing to hire an assistant for him.

From his viewpoint, Wabash was fast becoming a city on the move. Even in the months since his arrival, new businesses had opened their doors, banks had been launched, the automobile industry had boomed, service stations and car dealerships had started popping up around town, and work had continued on the new Linlawn High School. Everywhere he looked, construction crews were digging new foundations and laying bricks. Of all the places he might have chosen to settle in after leaving Welfare Island, he didn’t think he could have picked a better town than Wabash. And that was not counting a certain strawberry blonde, her two towheaded sons, and a thriving little restaurant where he happened to work.

On a typical Saturday morning, as he scoured the griddle after flipping pancakes and frying eggs for the breakfast crowd, Will thought about the day he’d spent with Livvie at the river back in July and wondered if he ought to invite her fishing again. Maybe it was better if he left it up to her to tell him if she wished to join him. After all, she’d made no bones about inviting herself the first time. If she wanted to go again, she’d probably show up at the back door with her fishing pole, as before. The last thing he wanted was to make her think he had romantic feelings for her, even though there was no denying he did. Most nights, it took him forever to fall asleep, as his mind was filled with pictures of how she’d looked that day. Truth be told, his heart turned to mush every time she entered the room, and he often thought he’d reached the point of no return. But a simple reminder of the fateful name she’d whispered after the kiss they’d shared was all it took to defeat that notion. He knew better than to dwell on the far-fetched prospect of romancing Livvie. Frank Beckman would always live on in her heart, and Will doubted she’d ever find room there for anyone else.

Earlier that morning, after the breakfast rush had slowed, Livvie had taken her boys to a city park for some recreation. Cora Mae and Georgia were taking a Coke break at a table in the back, and Gus was busy cleaning out the refrigerator and organizing the kitchen shelves. At the front of the restaurant, a couple of customers enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and engaged in quiet conversation, giving the place an overall sense of peace and serenity—until the door opened and Sheriff Morris walked in, his gun holstered at his side, his belt sagging beneath his oversized belly.

The jumpy feeling fueled by years of living on the wrong side of the law poked at Will’s nerves, just as it did whenever an officer in uniform sauntered in, whether it was the sheriff, one of his deputies, or a policeman.

Sheriff Morris set his eyes on Will and immediately crossed the room, sat himself down on one of the bar stools, and crossed his pudgy hands on the countertop. “Mr. Taylor,” he muttered with what sounded like forced politeness. They had yet to become anything closer than acquaintances, and Will preferred to keep it that way.

“’Mornin’, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

“A cup o’ coffee would be fine. Black.”

“You got it.” He whipped around, nabbed a cup from the shelf, and filled it to the brim with the strong, steaming liquid.

“Good to see you, Sheriff,” said Gus, pulling his head out of the refrigerator. “How’s business? You caught yo’self any bad guys lately?”

Will set the cup on a saucer under the sheriff’s nose, stepped back, and folded his arms, glad for Gus’s pleasant manner. Having lived in Wabash his whole life, the fellow got on well with folks and seemed to find it easy to converse with almost anybody.

Sheriff Morris sniffed, took a swig of the hot brew, and nearly choked. “Sheesh, this stuff is strong,” he said, ignoring Gus’s greeting.

“Sorry, it’s been on the burner since early this morning,” Will told him. “By ten thirty, it’s apt to taste like tar. I’ll make a fresh pot right away.”

“Don’t bother.” The sheriff lifted the cup to his lips again, took another swallow, and set it back down with a look of disgust. He then glanced at Gus and gave a cursory nod. “To answer your question, Gus, business is pretty slow, with the exception of a few robberies reported. I actually came by to ask Livvie if she’s come up short on any of her daily earnings.”

“She’s not here,” Will spoke up, “but I can tell you that she hasn’t mentioned anything about coming up short.” He knew she would have told him if the cash drawer had failed to balance. “Who’s been robbed?”

The sheriff turned his gaze on him, and Will was sure his eyes held suspicion. Having lived in Wabash a mere three months, he supposed he hadn’t quite passed muster with the man.

“A few businesses ’round town…McNarney Brothers Meat Market, Red Goose Shoe Store, Garland’s Flower Shop, and Kramer Cleaners, to name a few.”

“You mean, there’re more?” Will asked.

“That ain’t good,” Gus said, sticking his head back inside the refrigerator. The temperature was expected to reach ninety degrees this afternoon, which probably explained why Gus seemed to be taking his sweet time cleaning out the icebox.

“Yeah, there’re more, all right. Folks are now sayin’ they noticed a shortage in their cash drawers some time ago but figured they’d either given customers too much change or miscalculated the total and undercharged, so they didn’t file a report. Now, with formal reports comin’ in, others are surfacin’.”