The Angel Whispered Danger (8 page)

“Ha!” Violet said.

Defeated, Josie and Darby deserted us to play Monopoly in the large upstairs hallway that had become over the years a sort of catchall sitting room where dark-stained shelves were crammed with books so old the pages were falling out. As a child I had read one of what must’ve been an original
Bobbsey Twins
adventure, and I remembered playing with that same Monopoly game I’m sure had belonged to my grandmother.

Burdette gave the two younger boys a wheelbarrow ride on the lawn while Marge, Deedee and I set up card tables on the porch for our soon-to-arrive supper. Leona had unearthed a supply of paper plates, probably from a past reunion, and was distributing them on the tables when we saw an unfamiliar car approaching.

“Does Parker have a new Saturn?” Marge asked Deedee as the small white car came to a stop under a pecan tree in the side yard.

Deedee shook her head and frowned. “Still drives that old beat-up Dodge; I’m embarrassed to be seen in it, but I’m not expecting him for at least half an hour. Had to get Cynthia before he stopped by the Friendly Pig.”

Leona muttered something about making more lemonade and dashed back inside. The rest of us watched as a trim blonde woman in a pale blue blouse and darker denim skirt stepped out from behind the wheel, glanced up at the house and waved.

We waved back. “Who’s that?” I asked, trying not to be obvious.

Marge grinned. “Looks like Belinda Donahue, Uncle Ernest’s new lady friend,” she whispered. “Bet he invited her to join us tonight and never thought to call and cancel after what happened to Ella.” Extending a hand, she started to meet her, and the two stood talking quietly together at the foot of the steps until Hartley abandoned the game with his dad and ran toward the house clutching a delicate part of his anatomy.

“Mama, I gotta pee!” he shouted, pushing past the two woman and charging up the steps with his red-faced father in pursuit.

“Oh, my goodness, you’ll have to excuse him! I’m sorry.” Marge laughed in spite of herself, and so did the rest of us.

“Please don’t be! I was feeling rather like an intruder after learning of your family’s sudden tragedy, but I must admit, I feel a bit more at ease now.” The newcomer composed herself and followed Marge to the shady end of the porch where I introduced myself and offered her a seat in one of the rocking chairs.

“Thank you, but I won’t stay long.” Belinda perched on the edge of the seat as if she might take off in flight at any second. “Didn’t realize about poor Ella . . . oh, I do hope she’ll be all right!” She looked at each of us in turn. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”

“You can stay and have supper with us,” Marge said. “With three of us at the hospital with Ella we’ll have more barbecue than we need.”

“Oh dear, no. I couldn’t.” Belinda inched even closer to the edge of the chair. “I told Ernest this reunion was a time for family, but he insisted I come.”

“I expect he’d welcome your company at the hospital then,” I said. “There’s really no need for him to wear himself out over there. Maybe you can talk him into coming home.”

She smiled and placed her hands on the arms of the chair, preparing to leave. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“But first won’t you stay just a minute and say hello to Ma Maggie and Violet? They’re upstairs in Ella’s rooms getting together some things she might need, and I know they’d be disappointed not to see you.” Marge sneaked a glance at me and I knew what she was up to. Our grandmother would be royally pissed if she missed a chance to size up Uncle Ernest’s new girlfriend.

Deedee excused herself to find more folding chairs and I was left alone with our visitor while Marge went to look for Violet and Ma Maggie. Belinda Donahue was a dainty, small-boned woman blessed with that rare complexion that seems to age well. I guessed she must be at least fifty or more, but I could see no signs of wrinkles, and I suspected that her hair, so fair it was almost silver, had been professionally tinted its original color. She wore tiny silver earrings in the likeness of owls and a plain gold band swung from a chain around her neck.

“My grandmother’s,” she explained when she saw me looking at it. “She had such small hands, I can’t wear it.” Her own fingers, I noticed, were bare, but I could see indications that she once wore a ring on the third finger of her left hand.

Belinda seemed eager to leave and a bit uncomfortable exchanging small talk while we waited, so I was glad when Ma Maggie and Violet joined us.

“I’m so glad you came,” my grandmother told her. “Ernest was in such a dither when he left, I’m not surprised he didn’t think to call you, but if you’re going by the hospital, I’d appreciate it if you’d take some of poor Ella’s things—her hairbrush and nighties, and whatever that is she soaks her teeth in.”

From the way poor Ella looked when I last saw her, I doubted if she would be needing anything like that for a while, but at least it gave Ma Maggie and Violet something to do, and Belinda said she’d be glad to oblige.

“So, what did you think of Uncle Ernest’s new love interest?” Marge asked our grandmother after Belinda left.

“I’ve seen her from a distance, but she’s just as pretty up close,” Ma Maggie answered. “I can see why Ernest is taken with her, but she seems a little shy. I guess all of us being here at once must’ve overwhelmed her.”

“Poor Ella’s accident unnerved all of us,” I said.

“I doubt if she’ll lose any sleep over what happened to Ella,” Violet said. “No love lost between those two.”

Marge took a folding chair from Deedee and opened it. “What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t stand being in the same room together. Atmosphere as thick as cold oatmeal, and about as pleasant.” Violet picked up the cat and stroked it. “Maybe it’s my imagination, but I couldn’t help but feel it. Ella sometimes sat with me when she came to church, but since Ernest started coming with Belinda, she sits on the other side of the sanctuary. It’s obvious there’s something going on.”

Deedee snorted. “Surely she’s not jealous! Bless her heart, Ella Stegall’s eighty if she’s a day.”

“Uncle Ernest isn’t far behind,” Marge reminded her. “Maybe the two women met somewhere before, had some kind of run-in. I hate to say it, but poor Ella’s kind of like a bottle of wine missing its cork. Gets more vinegary every day.”

“I expect she just resents another woman’s presence,” my grandmother said. “Ella’s been running the show now for over forty years—ever since Rose left.”

“Before Rose left,” Violet said. “She lived in the guesthouse then, but did most of the cleaning and cooking.”

I laughed. “Then that explains why Rose left!”

Parker and Cynthia arrived soon after that and we ate a rather subdued supper on the porch—or as subdued as it could be with three active boys and two little girls who didn’t get along. Cynthia, seated next to Josie, monopolized the conversation with details of the “simply super” party she’d been to, and how her mother had said
she
could have a real dinner party when she turned eleven—with boys and everything.

“Why?” my daughter asked, stuffing potato chips into her mouth.

I could see relations were only going to go downhill from there, so I was pleased when after supper Burdette suggested the children catch lightning bugs on the lawn. The girls weren’t too receptive to the idea at first, but when twilight deepened into dusk and the first winking glows flickered in the trees, even Cynthia decided it might be fun to try. And as we sat on the porch watching the children play, and listening to their laughter, I almost forgot for a little while what had happened earlier.

“Look at them,” Deedee observed. “I haven’t seen Cynthia act like that since she was little.”

“She’s still little,” I said. “She’s a child. What’s your hurry?”

Deedee didn’t answer, and I couldn’t see her face in the dark. I knew I shouldn’t have said it, but she’s rushed that little girl from babyhood like a bear was behind her.
Two, going on twenty-two
, my cousin would say when somebody asked Cynthia’s age. Or,
three, going on thirty
.

How different we were! Sometimes I longed to stop the clock on Josie and keep her a little girl for a while longer—although not lately, I’ll admit!

The lightning bug game soon turned to tag, then hide-and-seek, and we were getting ready to call the children in from their play when Darby came running to tell us there was somebody moving around in the orchard with a light.

“You’re probably just seeing lightning bugs,” his mother said, leading a protesting Hartley inside.

“No. No! It’s a flashlight,” Darby said. “Josie saw it, too. So did Cynthia.” The two girls confirmed that this was true.

Burdette waded into the middle of them. “You all wouldn’t be pulling my leg, now, would you? That was a bad thing that happened to poor Ella today. I don’t like you making light of it.”

“But we’re not, Daddy, honest! Come and see for yourself.” Darby took his father’s hand. “Hurry, before he gets away!”

Ma Maggie and Violet had left a few minutes earlier, and Leona had disappeared upstairs for a long soak in the tub, she said, so only Marge, Deedee and their families remained. Deedee was telling us about the dress she was thinking of buying Cynthia for the Miss Junior Mountain Sunshine competition when Burdette came back with a peculiar look on his face.

“I’m not sure what’s going on over there, but it really does look like somebody’s wandering around with a flashlight.” He waited until we herded the children inside. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but it bears checking out.”

“I’ll go with you,” Parker said. “Could be somebody came up from the river trail and decided to camp there for the night.”

I couldn’t remember that happening before, but I hoped what he said proved to be true.

It wasn’t. The two men had been gone close to half an hour when we saw their lights approaching from the orchard—at least we hoped it was their lights!

Marge had bathed Hartley, dressed him in pajamas and was reading him a bedtime story when Burdette and Parker returned, red-faced and out of breath.

“It was a man, all right,” Parker said, collapsing in the nearest chair. “But I don’t think he’ll be back. We chased him all the way past Webster’s wall and into Remeth churchyard. I’ll bet he’s halfway to town by now.”

“Good. I hope he keeps on going,” Marge said. “Could you tell what he looked like?”

Burdette shook his head. “Medium height, I’d say, and he had on a cap of some kind. It was too dark to see his face, but I turned my light on him as he was climbing that cemetery wall, and it looked like he was wearing jeans and some kind of blue shirt.”

“Blue! I told you,” Darby said. “I told you it’s the ghost of that Yankee soldier!”

“Who in the world would be prowling around out there this time of night?” I asked Marge. Deedee and family had already left and Burdette was rounding up his boys and Josie in preparation to drive back to town. “What do you suppose he was doing?”

“Might’ve been teenagers romancing over in that old cemetery.” She grinned. “Remember what the poet said? ‘None, I think, do there embrace?’ Of course, Marvell didn’t know the kids around here.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “Frankly, I’d rather it be a case of good old-fashioned lust. After what happened to Ella, I’m not thrilled with the idea of having somebody wandering about out there.”

Marge yawned as she gathered up her boys’ discarded shoes. “Burdette says the sheriff’s sending somebody out here to look around. If it’s a vagrant or somebody like that, they might even pass him on the road.” She lowered her voice. “Kate, you don’t really think poor Ella was pushed, do you?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” I told her. “I didn’t think so at first, but now I’m not so sure.”

“But why would anybody want to hurt Ella, of all people? The poor old soul is harmless . . . unless you take into account that casserole she made when she mistook canned cherries for tomatoes.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

I didn’t have an answer as to why my daughter made a point of ignoring me, either. “I hope you don’t mind Josie staying with you for a few more days,” I began. “I’m hanging out here with Leona until the others get back from the hospital and I’ll probably end up spending the night. If anything weird
is
going on out there, I’d rather Josie not be around.”

My expression must have given me away because Marge tossed the shoes aside and wrapped her long arms around me. “Kate, this too shall pass—I promise. That young’un’s just showing her skinny little fanny—making you dance to her tune, but I honestly don’t think she’s enjoying it.”

My cousin pulled away, her hands still on my shoulders. “We love having Josie with us, don’t worry about that. You’re the one who concerns me.” Marge frowned, ignoring Jon, who tugged at her sleeve. “It’s Ned, isn’t it? Something’s wrong. You can’t fool me, Kate McBride.”

I didn’t answer, which I knew was as good as an admission. “Not my best summer vacation,” I mumbled.

Burdette appeared behind us carrying a sleeping Hartley as he shepherded Josie and the two older boys before him. “You kids get in the car and be quick about it . . . or I might be forced to sing.”