Livvie's Song (34 page)

“Yeah!” said Nate. “But, first, you’d have to marry Mommy.”

Mortified, Livvie jumped to her feet and looked at her watch. “Gracious, would you look at the time? It’s almost four o’clock. We’d better go!”

Will picked up his harmonica, casually slipped it into his pocket, and took his time getting up, showing no trace of embarrassment at the boys’ comments. He reached out and tousled their blond hair. “You two whippersnappers ready to head back?”

“We aren’t whoopersnackers,” Nate argued.

“Okay. Hooligans, then.”

“Yeah, we’re hooligans,” Alex said. “What’s a hooligan, anyways?”

Will chuckled, and Livvie sneaked a peek at him, finding that his eyes danced with merriment. He tilted his head at her and winked. Mercy, but he did have a way of turning her to Jell-O!

She bent to pick up the quilt, but Will beat her to it, throwing it over his arm. “Come on, hooligans,” he said.

“What’s a hooligan, Will?” Alex asked again.

Livvie set off down the trail, the three of them close on her tail.

“Hm, how to define a hooligan…? I guess I’d say, a boy who’s too smart for his britches.”

“We’re smart, huh, Alex?” Nate said.

“Yeah! I like bein’ a hooligan.”

“Me, too.”

***

Clem could hardly contain his rage. How dare Will Taylor kiss his wife-to-be! He clutched the handle of his pistol, half tempted to draw out the weapon right then and do away with the creep. But reason dissuaded him. “Calm down, Dodd,” he muttered to himself. “She’ll be yers soon enough. Shootin’ ’im now would throw off the whole plan.”

He pulled back a thick, leafy branch to get a better view and, with his other hand, raised the binoculars to his eyes once more. Soon, the foursome disappeared into the thicket and out of view. An irksome train whistle blew, announcing the arrival of yet another locomotive.

He’d be glad to get out of this town and settled with Livvie in his little house in the country. All these trains constantly coming and going sure did wear on a person’s nerves after a while.

“What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee. In God I will praise his word, in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me.”—Psalm 56:3–4

An odd mix of emotions stirred in Livvie’s soul as she flitted about the restaurant, waiting on customers. Every so often, she caught Will’s eye and noticed a special gleam of interest there, a hint of unspoken promises. On the one hand, she delighted in the sweet awareness, but, on the other, confusion lingered, as well as the sense that she was unworthy of his attention. Was he growing impatient to know how she felt about him? And had it even been fair of her to indulge those luscious kisses if she couldn’t bring herself to say those three all-important words?

The restaurant wasn’t extremely busy tonight. She suspected it was because folks were growing weary of the August heat and had opted to do something else to keep cool. By quarter to seven, all but a few patrons had gone home, and she sent Cora Mae home early, leaving the cleanup to Georgia and herself. In the kitchen, Will and Gus scraped down the stovetop and grill, knowing it was still possible that a few stragglers would come in and order a burger or some fried chicken. While they worked, the two kept up a lively conversation about hunting, fishing, and sports. Georgia lingered at the front of the room, water pitcher in hand, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Wimberly. Alex and Nate had received several hand-me-down games, toys, and puzzles from Polly Atkins, a mother of four older boys, who had been kind enough to drop them off when she and her husband had come in for supper that night. To Livvie’s delight, the boys had found their manners without her prompting, thanked the couple for their generosity, and then promptly hauled their treasures to the back room, from which they had not emerged in well over an hour.

At the same moment Livvie decided to check on her boys, the back door opened, and there in the shadows stood Marva Dulane, beckoning her with a bent forefinger. Livvie hesitated, but when Marva held up a photograph, she figured it was the one she’d told her about earlier, so she advanced to the door, thankful to have slipped past Will and Gus unnoticed. After those searing afternoon kisses, Will would not be happy to see her excitement at getting her hands on another picture of her dearly departed husband.

Marva had lost her sunny yellow dress and matching hat and slipped into a pale lilac getup that was similar in style to the dress she’d worn earlier, but the scooped neck was even lower, fitting for evening. She wore a single strand of beads and coordinating dangly earrings. Her golden hair had been styled with waves that molded to her oval face, and a glimmering barrette pinned a section of it above one ear. She was a striking woman, really. If only she didn’t come on so strong with people, or cover up her best features with caked-on cosmetics.

As Livvie approached her, the woman backed up, still motioning for her to follow. She had no idea why Marva had gone outside, but it didn’t matter much, so important was that photograph to her. Outside, not a soul was about, besides a stray cat that darted across the alley, and a horse and buggy hitched to a nearby fence post. The oppressive heat had her dabbing at her damp forehead with the back of her hand.

Out of nowhere, Reggie came bounding around the corner of the building. At first, he seemed intent on checking out the cat, but he quickly lost interest when he saw Livvie. She hadn’t even known the dog was about, as Coot had not returned for supper. Deep shadows darkened the alley due to tall trees between the buildings, which made it difficult for the setting sun to peek through. “I brought you your picture,” said Marva, who’d moved a good ten feet from the door. Smiling, she looked down at the photo and caressed it. “I shouldn’t have told you it was of you and Frank, though. That was mean of me.”

“Wh—what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s actually a picture of something altogether different, but you should find it interesting, nonetheless.” A cold smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and sent a strange chill down Livvie’s spine. Reggie stayed at her side, but she paid him little heed.

“What are you talking about? Let me see it.”

Clutching the photo tight against her chest, Marva scoffed, and the upper lip of her bright-red mouth curled. Livvie yearned to snatch the picture out of her grasp. “You do think you’re something, don’t you, Livvie?” the woman sneered. “Owning this big building, running your own business, making friends with everybody in town…Olivia Beckman is nobody’s enemy. It must be nice to be you,” she jeered. “And now, you think you’re going to land the one man I have my eyes on? Well, missy”—she leaned close, and Livvie detected the smell of strong liquor on her breath—“I decided that Will Taylor would be mine the minute I first laid eyes on him.” She cackled. “No more kissing down at the river, you hear?” A fierce growl came out of Reggie, and Marva glared down at him. “Shut up, you stupid dog!”

“Kissing?” Livvie shivered in panic at Marva’s strange remark. “You spied on us today?”

“Me? Would I stoop that low? No, of course not.” Her laughter rose to hysterical heights. “But somebody did.” With a slight twist of her body, she nodded.

The next thing Livvie knew, someone grabbed her from behind, hauling her up against his flabby chest and covering her mouth and nose with an awful-smelling rag. She struggled and squirmed as his hot breath skimmed her ear. “Hello, honey,” he whispered. “You’re mine now. All mine.”

Livvie kicked, thrashed, and tried to scream, but all for naught. She saw Reggie leap on her attacker and bite his arm until the fellow yipped, but then Marva hit the poor dog with something, and his body fell to the ground with a thud.

Lord Jesus, help me!
she inwardly screamed. A powerful wave of dizziness overtook her, and her world went as dark as sin.

***

If Will had learned one thing about Gus, it was that he did nothing quietly. Now, for example, he stood over the sink, with the spigot running at full blast, and clanged the pots and pans he scrubbed. Meanwhile, his good-hearted chatter never ceased, and his intermittent bursts of laughter at his own jokes never decreased in volume. Not that Will minded having a companion in the kitchen—shoot, it reminded him of days gone by with Harry—and Gus was a definite asset to him. Still, he would have appreciated the occasional lull. He chuckled at his petty predicament, even as Gus told him all about his weekend plans.

“Tell Livvie I’ve finished up, would you, Will?” Georgia’s voice made him turn. “I think I’ll go on home, if that’s okay.”

He looked at her, then glanced around the empty restaurant. Alex and Nate’s voices carried from the back room, where they’d sequestered themselves ever since receiving that box of used toys. “I’ll tell her. Is she back there with the boys now?”

Georgia shrugged and pushed a wisp of brown hair off her brow. “She must be. I haven’t seen her for a little while.”

“Hm.” Will felt a frown pull his brows together. He darted around the bar and hurried to the back room. When he opened the door, he saw the boys, sprawled on the floor, building some sort of structure out of wooden links.

Alex looked up first. “Hey, Will! Look!” he exclaimed. “We got this big set o’ wooden logs, and me ’n’ Nate’s buildin’ a house. Ain’t it grand?”

“It is, yes. Where’s your mom?”

They both shrugged.

“You want to play with us?” Nate asked.

“Not this minute, but you boys have fun.” He quietly shut the door again and turned to Georgia. “Stay here a minute while I run upstairs. She might have gone to her apartment.”

At her nod, he pushed open the door, but the sight of a bloody Reggie standing there on wobbly legs halted him in his tracks.

***

Livvie was awakened by a fierce headache. Well, it might have been from the stinging pain at her wrists and ankles, which were bound, or the pressure of the rope tied in between her lips, making her gag. Or, it might have been the urgent need to relieve her bladder. Whatever the reason, as her eyes slowly opened and tried to adjust to her surroundings, a moan rose up from her chest. Her senses soon cleared enough for her to realize that she was tied to a wooden chair, incapable of moving anything but her head.

As she looked around, she struggled to sift through her jagged memory. Where was she, and how had she gotten here? Two kerosene lamps and some candles glowed in the single room, but light rays through a broken window indicated that the sun had not fully set. Did this mean that her attacker intended to return after dark? Despite the shadows, she made out a wall lined with boxes and crates, many of them holding canned goods and other food items; a mattress piled with two pillows and a couple of folded blankets; and a rickety-looking table flanked by two antique chairs.

The urge to retch came over her, but the fear of choking on her own vomit kept her from giving in. She tried to kick and thrash, but every part of her body seemed constrained. Stark, vivid terror formed a hard knot inside her chest as her mind filled with graphic images of what her fate might be. When she tried to scream, her throat, burning with sheer fright, squelched her efforts.

Lord God! Oh, Jesus
, her mind cried out.

Be still, My child, for I am with you
, an overwhelming presence seemed to whisper.

Alex. Nate. Oh, God, I need to get to my children!

“
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.
” Wispy fragments of Scripture drifted over her spirit like feathery clouds, tiny bits of reassurance. She breathed deep and long, reminding herself of the importance of staying calm.

Reason kicked in, and with it came broken pieces of memory. She’d been cleaning up the restaurant when Marva had stopped by with…what was it? A photo. And she’d been foolish enough to follow her outside. But why not? She’d had no reason to distrust Marva Dulane, other than the fact that they’d never been friends. The woman was plain loco, as was the man who’d attacked her. At least, she assumed it had been a man. She hadn’t gotten even one glimpse of him. Who was he, and what did he want with her?

As she tried to adjust her position, she heard the rustle of paper beneath her bound hands. She looked down at her lap and saw a note pinned to her skirt. Frowning, she lifted her hands as high as she could, lowered her chin, and narrowed her eyes. When the penmanship came into focus, her stomach sank. It was the same handwriting that had appeared on the notes she’d received with the blue dress and the jar of flowers.

My darling Livvie,
I had to take back the rented horse and buggy. But don't wurry. I will be home by dark. Sorry about the ropes and stuff. When you lurn to trust me I'll take them off. I love you.
C.

Oh, Lord!
Tears coursed down her cheeks as she struggled to free herself.
I need to get out of here before he returns. Please, God.

But all she got by way of an answer was a verse she’d memorized as a child: “
The
Lord
will give strength unto his people; the
Lord
will bless his people with peace.
” It came from the book of Psalms, but that was all she could recall.

Even so, she clung to that little verse with every ounce of resolve she could muster, repeating it over and over again. If she didn’t, she knew she might very well lose her mind.

***

“What do you mean, you can’t disturb the sheriff?” Will demanded of the deputy, who sat comfortably in his office chair with his booted feet, one crossed over the other, propped on his marred desktop. From the look of it, his most pressing business was an issue of the
Daily Plain Dealer
, unfurled across his lap, and the steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

“I told you, he ain’t on duty.”

Standing near Will were Gus and Livvie’s brother-in-law, Howard Grant, who had met them there. Will and Gus had run to the sheriff’s station, but it was Howard who looked red in the face and out of breath, as if he’d pushed his truck all the way there rather than driven it. And no wonder. Will could only imagine the anxiety he and Margie had felt since finding out about Livvie’s strange and sudden disappearance. She was more like a daughter to them than a sister.