Saturday Morning (30 page)

“Better, Hope?” Andy had hung up the phone.

“Yes. This woman has healing in her hands, for sure.”

“My Herbert called it love. Andy, you could massage her hands and Julia her feet, or vice versa. Use lotion, it will feel better.”

“How’d you learn all this?” Andy sat down on the bed and, picking up one hand, stroked the back.

“Have you ever had a massage?”

“No, but who doesn’t love a back rub?”

“This is more than that. It helps the circulation too. My Herbert would sleep like a baby after I worked all the kinks and knots loose.”

“Herbert was one lucky man, is all I can say.” Hope sounded half asleep.

“Are you better?”

“Uh-huh, more like a dull throb now. Never did like cramps and have had them most of my life.”

“Here, Andy, let me show you how to really do that.” Clarice settled Hope’s head back on a pillow. “Sorry, but my legs were cramping so bad, I was about to scream.” Clarice winced and groaned as she put her weight on her feet. “Now, like this.” Using her thumb she rubbed along the bones in the back of the hand, dug in around the thumb, and used her thumb and first two fingers to stroke out each finger. She drew circles in the palm of the hand with her knuckles and then, cupping Hope’s hand between her own two, just held it upright, the elbow on the sheet.

“Ah, I feel that through my whole body. What did you do?” Hope struggled to stay with them but let herself float instead.

“Just held your hand. Works with feet too.”

“Clarice, don’t you dare think of going anywhere else, at least until after this baby is born.” Hope sighed, a long sigh that released every muscle and tendon. “God bless you all, dear sisters. I had no idea I’d be the one needing help—immediately.”

“You want us to leave so you can sleep?” Andy asked. She patted Clarice’s shoulder. “You ought to go into business.”

“I don’t think I have ever felt so loved and cared for in my entire life. I need to learn this so I can help Roger.”

“Help Roger do what?” He stood in the door, staring from one woman to another. “What happened?”

“She cramped. The doctor called in a prescription, just in case. Right now she seems to have relaxed, but you might want to get the medication anyway.” Andy continued with Hope’s other hand.

Roger knelt beside the bed and stroked Hope’s hair back from her forehead. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“I’m not quite all right, but much better.”

“I’ll have my cell phone on. Call me if you need me.” He kissed her and stood. “If I’m ever in trouble, I’m calling the Girl Squad.”

“Old girl, but … ” Clarice glanced across the bed at Julia.

“But not too old to be … ” She glanced to Andy.

“Ah, useful, effective … I’m stymied.”

“I know, pure gold.” Hope smiled while the others chuckled.

Celia appeared in the door. “Phone call from Peter Kent, the lawyer dude.”

“Switch it in here,” Hope whispered.

“No such thing. Mr. Roger, you take it,” Celia said, her face stern.

“Right.” He followed her out. “The Girl Squad, not too old to be pure gold. I think we got something there.”

“I know we’ve all been praying in our heads, but Jesus said when two or three agree, He’d be right there in the middle. You think we
can do that?” Andy looked to each of them. “I mean, not everyone has to pray aloud, if they don’t want to.”

“Sounds good. You lead it.” Hope’s murmur sounded as though she was tilting on the cliff of sleep.

“Okay.” Andy took a deep breath. “Heavenly Father, I can’t tell You how much this frightened all of us, but You know we want Hope and Roger to have this baby, and we know You do too. You promised to answer when we pray; You promised to be right here. Please send comfort and peace to Hope. Thank you for Clarice with her special gift that she shared with us. Thank you for bringing us together.” She stopped to let someone else pray. The quiet in the room hung whisper soft.

Julia opened up. “I pray for Cyndy, dear Lord. Please protect her along with this baby.”

Hope’s voice was low when it was her turn. “Thank you for giving me these women right when I needed them. Big Dad, You do provide for our needs, we see that day by day, minute by minute. Thank You.”

“Amen,” the women said in unison, then kept silent.

After a bit, Clarice opened her eyes and glanced down at Hope. “Thank You, Lord.” Her whisper caught the others’ attention.

Hope lay sleeping, a tiny smile curving the sides of her mouth.

They filed out. The smell of tomato sauce floated down the hall.

“Spaghetti for lunch,” Clarice said. “I started the sauce early this morning.” She shook her head. “I’m not used to cooking for more than one or two, so who knows how it will turn out?”

In the kitchen, Julia switched to her attorney mode. “Clarice, I’ve been wanting to ask you some more questions. Would you mind?”

“No, not at all. I hope I know the answers.”

“Do you need to help serve?”

“No, someone is assigned to that. Celia takes care of all the scheduling. We mostly have day-school children, a couple street people, the
girls who don’t have regular jobs or school, not a big bunch. You could all stay if you like.”

“I need to get home, but I want to make sure Hope is all right.” Andy paused and sniffed. “That sure smells good.”

“Come on, let’s sit in here for a minute.” Clarice opened the door to the common room, where their snack things were still set up. “Okay, ask away, Ms. Lawyer.”

“Do you know what Roger found out about your husband?”

“If you mean Gregor, I don’t consider him my husband.”

“But he is, if you had a bona fide wedding, with a minister or judge.”

“He was a judge. Gregor said he’d been divorced once, so our priest wouldn’t marry us. I have the certificate, er, I had it, in my safe-deposit box. When I emptied it, I put the papers in the locked drawer of my desk, and who knows where that is.”

“No problem, we can get a copy from the county. Now, what did Roger find out?”

“That Gregor is not his real name.” Clarice stared at the fake rings on her fingers.

“How many names did he find?”

A small shrug. “Two or three.” Clarice wished she could disappear into the seat or under the rug.
How could I have been so gullible?

“I’ll talk with him and see if we can find more.” Julia patted Clarice’s hand. “I used to locate deadbeat dads. This guy hasn’t got a chance. What about your mail?”

My mail Of course. I-yi-yi, how dumb can I be?
“I filled out a card to forward it to The Frederick. But since I don’t live there … ” Her shrug this time involved her whole body. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Okay, no more of that!” Julia leaned close enough that Clarice could feel her breath. “You made some mistakes … ”

“Yeah, threw away all Herbert’s hard work. Oh, my poor Herbert, he must be so disappointed in me.” She put her hands over her face and rocked back and forth. “I have nothing.”

Julia gently pulled Clarice’s hands away. “From all the things I know, I’m almost positive there is money for you somewhere. Well find it, and we’ll find that scumbag, too.”

“Maybe you can keep him from doing this again.” Perhaps there was hope after all.

“First let’s see if we can find your mail. Let’s call the manager of The Frederick and see if any mail has come for you. If not, then you give me more information, and I’ll start a paper trail. Amazing the things one can find out from paper trails.”

Clarice looked to Andy. “She’s one smart customer, that one.”

Andy nodded. “Glad I’m not some deadbeat dad. Or Gregor. I think he’s going to get his comeuppance this time. He messed with the Girl Squad.”

Clarice giggled. “I know I could have called my sister in Jersey, but she’d just say, ‘I told you so.’ She did, too many times, but I wouldn’t listen.” She put her hands over her ears. “I hate I-told-you-sos, and I could never lie to her.” Her shoulders sagged along with her face, aging her ten years.

“What about your sister—your friends in Miami?”

“What can they do? What’s gone is gone.” She scowled. “I hate to say that I doubt they’d help me. Most of them were so jealous of my handsome young husband that they’d probably see this as my just deserts.”

“Any other family?”

“All dead but a few nieces and nephews. They have their own lives. They don’t want no old woman in their spare room.” Clarice leaned forward. “Here I feel needed. More needed than since Herbert died. I want to help here as long as I can. If I can get the money for
a little house or an apartment, that would be all I need. So I don’t take a bed here that could be used for someone who really needs the help.”

“From what I hear, you’ve been a mighty big help.” Julia paused, and her eyes brightened. “How old did you say you are?”

“Sixty-seven.”

“Are you getting Social Security?”

Clarice nodded. “I was. Gregor had it sent it straight to our savings account.”

“Good. A place to start. We’ll find out where it’s going.” She pushed paper and pen across the table. “Write down your Social Security number.”

Celia stopped in the doorway. “Lunch is served. Come and get it while it’s hot.”

“I should get home,” Andy said.

“Why? Painting cabinet doors can always wait. We’ve got to work on getting the money to retrofit this place.” Clarice leaned close to Andy so she could whisper. “So much good they do, and so little money. They really need our help. What if they close this place?”

Four cabinet doors wasn’t bad. Andy held her paintbrush back as she admired her handiwork. Like Shari said: I am woman.

The ringing phone jerked her attention from the cabinets to the window. It was dusk. Martin would be home soon.

She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hi honey. Have you started dinner?”

“No. I got involved in painting and forgot all about it. Any preference for order in?”

“That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be stuck here for a while longer, and if I can’t get this snag worked out, I’m going to have to fly to St. Louis in the morning.”

She sighed heavily. “How long will you be gone?” Fluffy sat watching her from his Harley chair.

“Two or three days.”

She started to clean up her mess, her mind running ahead of itself. “I thought you weren’t going to travel anymore.”
Here we go again. The honeymoon is over.

A hint of steel entered Martin’s voice. “I told you how things would be. I’ll do my best to work things out, but if I can’t, I can’t.” There was a short pause. “Andy, could you iron up a few shirts for me? I forgot to send them out.”

“You don’t like the way I do your shirts, remember? Besides, I’ve got to find a place to board Fluffy, since I’ll be flying out about the same time you are.” At his silence, she said, “I’ve already overstayed my time here this month. I need to get back and help get some orders out.”
Andy Taylor, you’re just playing get-even here. I’m surprised at you.

In fact, her mom and Shari had both encouraged her to stay over a few extra days and get the new house in order. Everything was fine there, and while the orders were steadily coming in, they were also steadily being fulfilled and shipped out. All she could do was say okay, which was what she’d really wanted to say, especially with things going so well between her and Martin. And now there was the matter of Hope. She hated to leave, just in case Hope needed her for anything.

Funny how some people become friends faster than others.

“Why don’t you pack them dirty and have the hotel where you’re staying send them out?”

“Andy, just please do this for me. I’m up to my eyeballs here, and I can’t think about the incidentals.”

“Sorry, I just don’t have time.”

She listened for the click that said he hung up and realized he already had when the woman’s voice said, “If you would like to—” Andy hung up the phone and glared at it.

What was it he’d said when they’d talked about his new job? That others would be doing what he used to do? So where were the others? Why couldn’t he have sent one of them? Because Mr. Perfection believed no one could do the job as well as he could.

Andy gathered her painting gear together, all the while fighting guilt.
What kind of wife are you, who won’t do up a couple of shirts for her husband when he’s in a pinch? A wife who has been taken advantage of too long and whose husband is jealous of her business. That’s who.