Lost & Found Love (16 page)

“Hers or her cat’s?” another teacher asked.

“One in the same, if you ask Mr. Underwood’s wife. She thinks Miss MacVie’s a witch.” The comment was followed by snarky, disbelieving laughter.

Tabby closed her eyes. It was starting all over again, made even worse by the vicious comments on the town’s Facebook page. The motivation this time around appeared to be jealousy, but that wasn’t always the case. She thought about all the times God-fearing people had called her evil because she didn’t create art that made them feel comfortable and safe. They tried to blame what they didn’t understand on magic or possession, when the truth of the matter was she simply had an artistic talent that focused on subject matter most people found disquieting.

Her stepfather had tried to pray the demons out of her when he wasn’t trying to beat them out. Hypocrites! As if they were completely without any vices or faults. She started to turn away, then saw Stoner’s face in her mind, heard his voice telling her not to cry but to take action. With a flip of her braid, Tabby stalked into the lounge and smiled at both women.

Tabby had overheard her own share of gossip around the school, and up until now had tried to ignore it. Sometimes, though, standing up for herself meant giving someone else a good smackdown.

“Good morning, ladies.” Tabby smiled at them. She looked the kindergarten teacher up and down. “The next time I see Joseph, Miss Harris, would you like me to tell him what you fantasize about during his sermons?”

Tabby spun on the other woman, who was snickering slightly, and swept her gaze over her. “Or perhaps I should tell
your
husband how you help Mr. Powers check out what’s stored in the gym’s equipment room? I had never realized badminton rackets could be used in quite that way.”

She purchased her water from the drink machine and left them still open-mouthed inside the lounge. She had a half hour free between classes, so she walked into the office and asked if she could see Melodie Matthews’s permanent file. After the secretary handed it to her, Tabby sat down at the desk reserved for reviewing student files and went through its contents. She was particularly interested in comments from her kindergarten year, any pattern to absences, and the medical information the parents had supplied.

Tabby’s suspicions grew. A pattern of missed days before and after weekends clearly existed. Even documented changes in the child’s behavior between the start of kindergarten last fall and the second grading period were there to see. Melodie went from being a happy well-adjusted child to being shy and withdrawn. She looked at the picture taken at the beginning of kindergarten, and that alone told Tabby a lot. Melodie was wearing a cap-sleeved Minnie Mouse shirt. The long sleeves were something new.

As she handed the file back to the secretary, Tabby asked, “Is Melodie here today?”

“No. She was out yesterday too. Her mother called to say she had a stomach virus.”

Tabby smiled. “Thanks anyway.”

She wanted to talk to someone, but Mr. Underwood made her nervous, plus he still treated her like she’d stepped in dog poop or something. Tabby stopped at her house after school and grabbed her camera, her sketchpad, and her colored pencils. She was going to visit Stoner. She thought about talking to Evan or Jenny, even Jake, but if she went to any of them, they would have to report it. The same was true with Dr. James, and Tabby just wasn’t confident enough yet she had enough facts. They must believe her based on what
they
could see, not what
she
knew based on her own experience. She was sure Stoner could be a sounding board for her.

Tabby stopped along the road and took several pictures of Stoner’s house from different angles. She would plug the camera into his computer, and he could pick the angle he liked before she did her preliminary sketches. This time when Peterson answered the door, Tabby smiled at him. She was dressed in a long silky skirt, a silk camisole, and a matching jacket. Her hair fell in its usual loose braid down the length of her back.

“Good afternoon, Miss MacVie. The senator is in his study if you wish to follow me. I’ll announce you.”

“Very proper of you, Peterson,” Tabby muttered in a mock English accent.

He peered over his shoulder with an arched brow. “Quite so, miss.”

Tabby laughed. “That’s impressive. You’ve put me in my place.”

Peterson paused before he rapped on the door. The barest hint of a smile played about his lips. “Apparently not, miss.” At Stoner’s muffled response, Peterson opened the door. “Miss MacVie to see you, Senator.” He turned and stared at her. “He’s been a bear today. Careful.”

“I heard that, Peterson.” Stoner was seated at his desk, but his chair was turned sideways, and he was gazing morosely out the window. Without greeting, he demanded, “Have you ever gone hunting, Tabby?”

She set her things down cautiously and eased into the smooth leather chair across from his desk. “I’m a vegetarian, Stoner. Since I don’t eat meat, I choose not to hunt it either.”

He turned and examined her as if she were some strange new species. “A vegetarian? Is it a religious thing or a fad?”

“I’d say neither. Call it having too many unique foods served to me that I could either eat or be beaten until I ‘chose’ to eat. I’ve had everything from bear to snapping turtle with some stuff in between that could well have been road kill for all I know. Now I simply choose to eat other things. I will eat cheese. I’m not that strict.”

Stoner sighed. “It was never the kill that drew me to hunting. I enjoy going out with a pack of hounds—on foot, on horseback, it doesn’t matter to me—watching them work and hearing their voices when they find. I miss it, and my sentence has hardly even begun.”

“You can still enjoy walking around on your farm, can’t you?”

His mouth twisted and he glared out the window. “Yes. Like a dog on a leash. I set foot off the property, and an alert gets sent to the sheriff’s office.”

He looked so petulant, so lost. Tabby searched her backpack for her camera. “I took some pictures of the house, so you can pick what angle you’d like it painted from. Wanna see?”

He glared at her. “Trying to cheer me up when I’m busy wallowing in self-pity?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

The stiff set of his shoulders relaxed, and his gray eyes suddenly twinkled. “Maybe.”

He looked at the pictures, picked an angle, and they haggled over the price and the timeframe. Tabby glared at him. “You drive a hard bargain, Stoner. You must have been tough in negotiations in Washington.”

“I was.”

“Why did you quit?”

“My mistakes were about to catch up with me. It was easier to leave with my reputation still intact.”

Tabby studied him a moment. He fascinated her in a totally different way than Joseph did. They were light and dark with personalities to match. “I want to sketch you.”

He laughed. “You could hang it next to my senate portrait and entitle them ‘Oh How the Mighty are Fallen.’”

“I want to sketch you doing your wood working.”

“It won’t reveal some nobler side to me, Tabby,” he stated quietly and coolly. “I’m not a nice man.”

“Neither are you a monster. I’ve seen those.”

He arched a dark brow at her. “I suspect you have.”

“Before you ran for office, you were an attorney, weren’t you?”

“I studied law. I keep up with it, but I couldn’t practice even if I wanted to now. The bar frowns on felonious attorneys. You need Evan if you want a legal opinion.”

“Maybe later. I-I just need a sounding board right now. And someone with a legal background would definitely be a plus.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.”

Tabby outlined what she had seen of Melodie that first day along with what she gathered from the little girl’s file. He listened and shook his head. “It’s not enough to bring charges, but it might be enough to have social services launch an investigation. Is this child Mike Matthews’s daughter?”

Tabby slowly nodded her head.

Stoner grimaced. “He’s a member of the school board, honey. Did you know that?”

She glared at him. “It doesn’t matter. I know this is happening, Stoner.”

Tabby stared at him helplessly, wariness warring with an overwhelming need. He was a practical man, a realist. She saw the steadiness in his eyes, the world-weary expression, then gave him her trust. She stepped around the desk and turned her back to him.

Shrugging out of her jacket, she said, “Lift up my shirt and look.” She heard his soft hiss as he did. “I hid that my whole life,” she spat as she spun around to glare at him, “from numerous investigations. No one ever saw because I hid it and wouldn’t let them look. I did exactly what I’m sure Melodie is doing.”

He stared at her intently, his eyes narrowed. “There is a vast difference between fact and belief.”

Tabby paced restlessly to the window. “I am an artist, trained to look at things with a critical eye, trained to translate what I see onto paper or canvas. Because of that critical eye, I see details many people might miss.”

“Just like you noticed the changes in Jenny that even she, as a physician, hadn’t yet picked up on.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I will have Melodie in class again Thursday.”

Stoner leaned back in his chair, but when he spoke, his voice urged her on. “Then see if you can get her to go to the nurse with you and show you both. Be her advocate, Tabby, like no one was for you.”

She sighed and nodded. “I will. Thanks. I needed someone to say it to me.” She grinned at him. “You’re good for me.”

He picked her jacket up off the floor and handed it to her. “Damn it all. You have managed to shake me out of my dark mood when I was so thoroughly involved in feeling sorry for myself. I think I’m going to work in my shop. You ready to sketch now?”

Tabby smiled, thankful for the easy acceptance he gave her. “Sure.”

They walked out the back of the house, Tabby still marveling at its size and rich appointments. Inside the workshop, she sat on a stool in the corner and sketched him working, the way his hair fell across his forehead, how his brows drew together in concentration over narrowed eyes and his hawkish nose. She drew his hands in various poses, fascinated by the contrast between their size and the elegance of their movements. He moved like an artist and concentrated as intensely at his work as she did at her own. When she had enough sketches, she closed her pad and simply watched him.

He straightened after a while and rubbed his back. With a grin he asked, “How’s your love life?”

Tabby picked at the corner of her notebook with her index finger. “Wrong question.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

Tabby looked away from his too sharp gaze. “That’s a little hard to do when he’s left town.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” Tabby looked back at Stoner, drawing her brows. “On vacation,” she whispered, “and he didn’t say anything to me.” Her chin wobbled for a minute, so she bit her lip to stop it. Stoner came over and rubbed her shoulder.

“That’s not all. Did you know the town has a Facebook page where people gossip?”

Stoner sighed. “Yes. I was one of its favorite whipping boys earlier this year.”

“Well, I am now. There’s even a post calling for me to be dismissed from my job.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Catherine poked her head inside. Stoner smiled at her. She seemed startled and came all the way inside. “Peterson said Tabby was sketching you.”

“She finished. I was just asking her about her love life and offering some sympathy. Tabby’s the latest target of the town’s Facebook gossip. Plus, she and the preacher have hit a rough patch.”

Catherine’s brows arched. “Pastor Joe?”

Tabby blushed and nodded. “We had a fight. He asked me to marry him, and…”

“You didn’t exactly say yes, but you didn’t say no,” Catherine finished for her.

Tabby blinked in surprise. “How—how did you know?”

Catherine looked at Stoner. “I did the same thing to this one. As I recall, we didn’t speak for a couple of months.”

Stoner laughed. “I had forgotten that. Just how did you make that up to me?”

When Catherine’s face flushed, Tabby pushed at Stoner’s arm. “Stop that. And quit thinking what you’re thinking.”

He jerked back and stared at her. “You can read my mind?”

Tabby gathered her sketchpad and pencils. “Anyone could read your mind. It’s time for me to go home. Thanks, Stoner. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Richardson.”

Tabby nearly missed the ringing of her phone that night. She was in her studio working on Joe’s painting, so it wasn’t until the third ring that it sank in. She sprinted down the steps and snatched the phone off the nightstand in her bedroom.

“Hello?” She was slightly breathless.

“Tabby. It’s Joe.”

She cradled the phone close to her ear with both hands, trying to still their trembling and the tears that rushed to her eyes. “Wh-where are you?”

“A friend’s cabin in Tennessee, not far from where I grew up. I’m sorry I left without telling you. It was wrong.”

Tabby swallowed and blurted, “Oh Joseph! You hurt me… And I miss you so much.”

He sighed. “I’ll be back Sunday afternoon. We need to talk, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. Some things need to be said face to face.”

Tabby’s hands shook. Was he going to break it off completely? He sounded so restrained and serious. “Joe?” she whispered. “Are we talking to work something out? Or are we talking to end things?”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. “I guess that depends on you, Tabby. I promised myself I would quit rushing you, quit rushing us. You have to know you can trust me.”

She sank onto the bed, so relieved she felt lightheaded. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she raised one hand to scrub them away.

“I do know that. Deep down. I do know I can trust you. I’m so sorry for the way I acted,” she choked out. She tried to keep the sob silent, but it ended in a soft hiccup.

“Shh, Tabby.” Even through the phone connection, his voice soothed her. “We both acted with our hormones instead of our hearts and our heads. You’re right about one thing, darling. You realized it even before me. My congregation does have certain expectations, and I have to lead them by my own example. So far, I haven’t set a good one.”