Livvie's Song (29 page)

Of course, he’d have to be cautious in his comings and goings, as well as when moving around in the little shack, lest he draw attention. But he felt certain no one would detect a low-burning candle or two, given the distance.

As soon as dusk fell, he’d set out through the cornfields to check out the place. With a little luck, it’d be emptier than a sinner’s heart, and a perfect spot to set up housekeeping.

***

Will had whistled and hummed the afternoon away, not caring that he’d snagged only a few bluegills, black crappies, and rock bass in the river. He’d tossed half of them back, and the other half were barely respectable enough to fry up as a snack. He doubted the boys would be too fond of his fare, anyway, and he hadn’t thought to ask Livvie if she liked eating fish. He knew only that she didn’t like catching them. To be safe, he’d be sure to have leftovers on hand, including a plate of cookies and a pie from the restaurant fridge. That ought to suffice.

It wouldn’t be a long night, with tomorrow being Sunday, but the idea of spending time with Livvie and the boys, plus walking with them to and from church tomorrow, had his mind wandering into territory he knew he should avoid. Hadn’t he convinced himself that Livvie needed more time to mourn, that her heart still belonged entirely to Frank? When she came downstairs to work every morning, she probably envisioned her late husband standing over that hot stove instead of him, an ex-con. What was he doing, standing here and daydreaming like a lovesick fool?

“Hey there, good lookin’! Catch anything?”

He whirled at the sound of the husky, female voice, and his soaring heart plummeted. “Well, if it isn’t Marva Dulane,” he said, forcing a cordial tone. “What brings you to the river this afternoon?” He immediately began reeling in his line.

“Don’t leave on my account.”

He glanced at the used wristwatch he’d bought at the Salvation Army store. “I have to go, anyway. Time to start preparations for the supper crowd.”

“You sure do put in a lot of hours at that place.”

“It’s my job.” He crouched down, opened his tackle box, and started putting away his gear. Even with his eyes on his work, he could see her standing there, hands on her nicely rounded hips, skirt flared around her knees, blonde hair tossed to the side, and eyes intent on watching his every move. He’d glanced only briefly at her face, but it hadn’t escaped his attention that she’d gotten all dolled up for this meeting. And that unnerved him. For all he knew, she’d seen him head toward the river a couple of hours ago, and this was no chance encounter. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “What brings you down here?”

“Oh, I’m just out walking.” He glanced at her high heels. Likely story. “I saw you down here when I came through the thicket.” She left his side and picked her way over the bumpy terrain to peek inside his bucket, still sitting by the water’s edge. “Aw, you got a bunch of babies in there.”

Her remark sparked a chortle. “Thanks. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

She maneuvered her way back and reached him as he snapped the box closed and stood. “Your secret’s safe with me, Will Taylor.”

“Good.” He went to retrieve his bucket of pathetic-looking fish, and the lavender scent he caught as he walked past her nearly knocked him over. Gee whiz! Had she emptied an entire bottle of perfume over herself? Hefting the bucket, he started down the narrow path, arms full.

To his dismay, she followed him. “I thought you said you were taking a walk.”

“I was. But I reached my destination, which was the riverbank, and now I’m heading back.”

“Oh. Funny how we’re both going back at the same time.”

“Yes, isn’t it?”

From the night he’d met her, he’d known she spelled trouble. Women like Marva Dulane didn’t give up easily. Hadn’t he made it clear she didn’t interest him? A more drastic measure might get the message to her, but dumping a bucket of smelly fish on her head wouldn’t sit well with the Lord. So, he decided to pray. Why was prayer so often a last resort? Perhaps because his situation seemed so trivial. Yet he remembered Harry telling him that the Lord cared about every aspect of his life.
Lord, I know I’m a grown man, and I should be able to take care of myself. But I need Your help. Please, protect me from this woman’s possessive claws.

Walking in silence, they came through a copse of trees, crossed an open lot, passed the railroad station, and emerged onto Market Street. As he headed in the direction of the diner, with Marva by his side, he hoped she’d gotten the hint that her company didn’t thrill him.

“I thought I’d come to Livvie’s Kitchen tonight. Got a special table where I could sit and watch the handsome cook at work?”

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at her, blinked, and swallowed. “Marva, you are free to come to Livvie’s, if you want. It’s a public establishment. But don’t come with the intention of watching me. You and I don’t have a thing in common.”

She drew back her shoulders, which were bare, as the rounded neckline of her cotton blouse had fallen down on both sides. “Oh, but I think we do, Will,” she said, her voice gravelly and bold, her smile fiendish.

He set down the bucket of fish, which had suddenly grown heavy, and switched the tackle box to his other hand. “How’s that?”

“You like to live dangerously. We’ve got that much in common.”

“You’re wrong on that count. I lead a private, quiet life.”

Her laugh came off a bit frenzied. “Is that right? Well, I happen to know there’s another side to Will Taylor. Oh, I know you call yourself a Christian and all, but”—her chortle deepened as she placed a flat palm to his chest—“don’t think you can fool ol’ Marva.”

Alarm bells rang in his head, and he brushed her hand away. “What are you getting at?”

“Oh, Will, you silly man, I’ve known about your past for some time now—ever since I made the acquaintance of your friends Hank and Rudy. They told me all about you. We met out at Orville Dotson’s farm, real late on the night before they went back to New York.”

Like a pinpricked balloon, he felt the air go out of him. Cars whizzed past them; a train arrived at the station, its brakes whiffing as the gigantic locomotive slowed to a stop; horses galloped by; and wagons bumped along. But none of these sounds truly registered in his head. The names “Hank” and “Rudy” were all he could hear.

“Oh, don’t look so worried, honey.” Marva reached up and brushed something off his shoulder. This time, he tossed her hand off of him with a twist of his body, then stared down at her, almost nose-to-nose, breath-to-breath. She was up to something, and it wasn’t good. “It’s not like I plan to tell anybody about your past.” She shrugged. “Not yet, anyway.”

He gritted his teeth to the point where he felt pain shoot through his jaw. “What do you want from me, Marva?”

She threw back her head of dyed-blonde hair and laughed. “A little attention would be nice. I’m not such a bad sort. Like I told you a while back, you and I have more in common than you might think. We both like living on the edge.”

“And I told you I’d changed. My life has been completely different since I asked God to take control.”

“See, I just don’t buy all that religious nonsense. Hank and Rudy told me you’re a remarkable crook. I admire that. I can’t explain it, but there’s something so appealing about a man who breaks the law. It gets my blood to rushing, you know? And then, to think you’re an ex-convict, on top of everything else. What the folks of Wabash wouldn’t do to learn a little bit about your history! Mystery man comes to Wabash to escape his past and change his identity. Can’t you see the headlines now?”

Run, Taylor, run.
The Bible story of Potiphar’s wife trying to seduce Joseph came to mind. Marva Dulane was nothing short of evil. He took a deep breath and held on to his senses. “I can’t do a thing to stop you from going to the papers, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

She put her hand on his bare arm and applied pressure. “I could easily be talked out of it, Will. What say you and I—?”

A red sedan honked as it passed, drowning out the remainder of her sentence. He glanced up at the car, and his chest immediately collapsed when Livvie’s eyes, full of confusion and hurt, connected with his.

***

As soon as Margie pulled up to the curb in front of Livvie’s Kitchen, the boys bolted out the back door. “Bye, Aunt Margie. Thanks for the ride!” Alex said.

“Thanks! Bye!” Nate shouted, then slammed the door, which made Margie wince.

The two raced up the alley between the restaurant and the drugstore, having spotted some friends playing there. Livvie was ashamed that they’d forgotten their manners completely. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the gumption to call them back to apologize. At least they hadn’t seen Will standing with Marva Dulane half a block back. The woman was a man magnet. Frank used to call her a “percolator with no filter,” meaning she didn’t care what she said or how she said it; when she wanted something bad enough, she went after it with gusto, no holds barred. She’d even tried to turn Frank’s eye one time. One time. Until he’d given her what for, explaining that he was a married man in love with his wife, and she’d do herself a favor by never coming near him again. As far as Livvie knew, Marva hadn’t graced her restaurant since.

Out came a loud and heavy sigh. She would not be one of Will Taylor’s pawns. No, sir. She had gone beyond playing silly teenage games. Plainly put, if he wanted to associate with the likes of Marva Dulane, he could go and have his fun, but he could also stop inviting her and her sons to his place for dinner, because she would not be taken in by his charms. The way he was standing there in the middle of town for everyone to see, looking all comfy and cozy with Marva Dulane, made her want to spit right on his shoe! And, if she could have kicked herself in her own behind for being so foolish, she surely would have. To think that she’d come so close to giving her heart away again! Goodness gracious, what would Frank think?

Oh, Lord, help me to stop asking that foolish question, “What would Frank think?” He’s not here anymore, and it’s time I accepted it. Instead, help me to start asking myself what You would think.

“Well, I see Marva has her feelers out for that cook of yours,” Margie observed. “Doesn’t surprise me at all, as good-looking a man as he is. But, Marva Dulane! You really ought to warn him about her.”

Her sister’s words barely registered. She stared ahead, arms crossed, chin and jaw set as firm as cement.

“Livvie, did you hear me?” Margie leaned across the seat and touched her arm. “Knock me over with a straw, you don’t like that man, do you? In a romantic sense, I mean. I saw him give you a certain look today when I picked you up. He’s your employee, Olivia.”

That woke her up. “Of course, I don’t like him in a romantic sense, Margaret. Don’t be ridiculous! Even though he is a fine Christian man.” Why did she feel the need to defend him, especially when she was madder at him than a trapped coon?

“Why would a ‘fine Christian man’ associate with the likes of Marva Dulane? And in public, no less!”

That got up her dander even more, and not because she wanted to protect Will’s reputation. As much as she loved her sister, Margie could be terribly judgmental. “Even Jesus hung around with the dregs of society, Margie.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true, but I can’t imagine the Lord looking too kindly on a Christian man seeking out someone of her caliber. I’ve heard that she’s broken up many a happy marriage.”

“Since when have you listened to gossip, Margie?”

“I don’t actually listen; I just get bits and pieces while I’m waiting in line at the bank or the post office or the market. You know how it goes. Sometimes, you just…overhear things, and you can’t help it. I realize it’s all speculation—women talking just to hear themselves talk—but, still, you do learn things.”

Livvie huffed a sigh, then relaxed a bit. “I know. In the restaurant, I hear all sorts of murmurs about this and that. But I don’t repeat them.”

“Nor do I.”

“You just did!”

“To my sister. Oh, for pity’s sake, never mind.” Margie turned and looked behind her. “Where do you suppose he met her, anyway?”

“At the dance hall upstairs.”

“Haw! He goes to those horrid dances? What kind of Christian example is that? I’d stay clear of Will Taylor, Olivia.”

In spite of her inner turmoil, Livvie almost laughed. “He works for me, Margie.”

“Well, perhaps you ought to think about looking for someone to replace him.”

“What? Just because he goes to the dance hall some Saturday nights?”

“I can’t imagine why any upstanding Christian would. Nothing but a bunch of boozing, smoking sinners attend those events, and the music, why, it’s…it’s so…worldly.”

“I rather like it.”

“Oh, my stars, you do not! You’ve said yourself it’s loud and raucous.”

“Mr. Taylor plays the harmonica, did I tell you that? And very well, I might add. He’s been known to go up on the stage and perform with the band on Saturday nights.”

Another gasp flew past Margie’s lips.

“I even went up there one evening,” she added, waiting for the explosion.

Margie’s eyes bulged like two bowling balls. “What on earth possessed you to do that?” she hissed.

“The music. It was lively and appealing.”

“Sin is appealing, Olivia Beth.”

“For heaven’s sake, I didn’t sin by going up there. Besides, I stayed only a few minutes.”

A long moment of silence passed while Margie brooded.

“I started going to church again,” Livvie finally said. “I’ve been going to the Wesleyan Methodist church.”

Margie turned and faced forward, her shoulders dropping, as if in surrender. “Well, that’s certainly a good thing. Of course, you know I wish you’d come back to your roots at Wabash Holiness Life. I miss seeing you in the third pew from the front on the right side.”

“That was our family pew when Frank was still alive. You should know, I don’t plan to return. I needed a fresh start, and I’ve gotten one at the Wesleyan Methodist church.”

“I see. Well, as long as they preach the Word—”

“Yes, I can assure you, they do.” Her sister could be so brassbound. As if her salvation depended upon attending the same church she’d gone to as a child!