The Right Call (19 page)

Ethan stood at his cousin’s casket and stared at the young man, who looked asleep. If it were possible for a dead person to look good, Drew did. Somehow the mortician had managed to get his coloring right—so much so that Ethan was tempted to shake him and wake him up.

Ethan felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, and then he heard his dad’s voice.

“People have started to arrive,” Tom said softly. “Would you like a few more minutes?”

“No. I’m okay, Dad.”

Ethan took comfort in his father’s touch for a moment longer, then walked over and stood next to his mother, prepared to help greet those who shared their grief.

Uncle Richard and Aunt Becca, eyes red rimmed and voices quivering, hugged the first arrivals and spoke quietly.

Ethan shuffled from one foot to the other, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. Why did he feel so confused? Part of him wanted to curl up and weep, and part of him wanted to pick up the ceramic vases in the room and smash them against the wall.

He shook hands with a white-haired man wearing thick glasses who introduced himself as Hayford Slocum. He watched the man’s mouth move but didn’t hear a word he was saying. Mr. Slocum patted Ethan on the shoulder and then moved on to his dad.

Martha Slocum hugged Ethan and said she had been his Sunday-school teacher when he and Drew were preschoolers. Her tears were as real as the scent of perfume that thickened the air around them.

More consolers came and went, but Mrs. Slocum’s scent remained for quite some time.

Ethan was pleasantly surprised at how comforting it was to hear others who had known Drew share their fondest memory. At times the laughter was almost healing and, for a moment, he forgot where he was and what they were doing. Until Vanessa showed up.

Ethan went over to her, took her by the hand, and led her to Drew’s casket, nervous about how she would react.

She stood silent for a long time, seemingly studying Drew’s face. “I was dreading this,” she said. “But he looks so much better now. I’m glad I saw him.”

“Yeah, he really looks like Drew.” Ethan took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting that either.”

“I can’t believe the line of people,” she said. “Did you get started late?”

“No, hundreds of people showed. It’s amazing. What did you do with Carter?”

“Emily has him outside. So how are you holding up?”

He brushed the hair off her wet cheek. “Better than I thought I would. I haven’t been to many of these. I guess I didn’t realize how comforting it would be.”

“It sure was when my grandparents died,” Vanessa said. “I’ll never forget how special it was that all those people came out to pay their respects.”

“Speaking of that, I probably should go back and stand with my folks.”

“Go ahead,” Vanessa said. “I’m fine. By the way, is your uncle Ralph coming?”

Ethan shook his head. “No, he’s stubborn as ever. It’s sad, too, because he would’ve liked Drew. I think the two of them could’ve had a relationship if things had been different between my uncles.”

“Is your uncle Ralph sad about Drew?”

“I’m sure he is—but not enough to face his brother.”

“They’ve sure got some major pride issues going on. How do your aunts handle it?”

“No better than the rest of us.” Ethan kissed her forehead. “I’ll stop by the house when I’m done here.”

Chapter 22

Ethan
sat next to Vanessa on the glider, watching Carter sleep in her arms, and listened to the sounds of nature, glad for the refreshing breeze that flowed through the screened-in porch at the Jessups’.

He enjoyed the moment and tried not to think about what tomorrow would bring. The hum of crickets and the earthy smell that scented the night air reminded him of the times he and Drew camped out in the backyard when they were kids—and then up in the hills when they were older. Good memories. Memories he never wanted to lose.

“What are you thinking about?” Vanessa said.

“The crickets got me thinking about camping with Drew. The first time we tried it, we were really little, maybe six or seven. Uncle Richard pitched a pup tent in the backyard, and Aunt Becca made us
provisions
. It was a big deal. We tried to act brave, but every sound sent us shrieking and laughing, hiding our heads in our sleeping bags. I was sure Bigfoot was out there and we were going to be his next meal. My aunt and uncle decided if
they
were going to get any sleep, we would have to move our campsite into the living room.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. We both fell asleep pretty fast once we were inside with the door locked.” Ethan smiled. “But we talked about that campout for a long time. And the monsters lurking in the shadows got bigger every time we told it.”

“Like a fish story?”

“Exactly.” Ethan’s smile faded, and he let out a long sigh. “I’ve never had to let go of anyone I loved before. It’s harder than I imagined.”

“It really is. At least you’ll be able to comfort your patients when you’re a counselor. God won’t let your sorrow be wasted.”

“Life experience would be a great thing to have if you didn’t have to
experience
it first.”

“Ethan, you should post that on your Facebook page. It’s rather profound.”

“Profound, eh?”

“Yes, I’ll have to ponder it awhile.”

“While you’re pondering, would you mind if I hold Carter?”

“Heavens, no.” Vanessa gently moved Carter into Ethan’s waiting arms.

“He’s so cute when he’s sleeping,” Ethan said. “It makes me feel strong when I’ve got him—and in control. It’s a lot better than feeling like a scared little boy.”

“Dealing with death strips us down to our most vulnerable state, doesn’t it?”

“Well, listen to you.” Ethan nudged her with his elbow. “Now it’s your turn to sound profound.”

Vanessa was quiet for a minute, then said, “I’ve been debating something in my mind since we left the funeral home. I really don’t want to wear black tomorrow.”

“So don’t.”

“I want to wear white, but I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“My family is pretty hard to offend, Vanessa.”

“If we have to lose Drew, the least we can do is celebrate his going home for eternity. I think he’d want us to, don’t you?”

Ethan stroked a lock of her hair. “Absolutely. I’ve been so down that I honestly hadn’t thought about what Drew would want. But you’re right.”

“So it’s all right with you if I wear white?”

“Of course.” He slipped his arm around her. “You just talked me into wearing a white shirt.”

“Good.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be very emotional. It’ll help me to keep it all in perspective.”

Tessa looked out the bedroom window and watched Vanessa stroll with Ethan to his car and then disappear in his arms. For a moment, in the light of the moon, it seemed as if the two silhouettes were one.

“You spying on the lovebirds?” Antonio said.

Tessa felt her cheeks warm. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I woke up and realized you weren’t next to me.”

“Sorry, I’m restless. I think I’ll go downstairs and make myself a cup of tea.”

“You thinking about tomorrow?”

Tessa went over to the bed and sat on the side. “I suppose I am. I feel so bad for Ethan and his family—and for the Jessups. They’ve had more than their share of grief in the past two years. I want to go to Drew’s funeral to support them. But I’m dreading it. It’s difficult enough when friends our age pass on. But nothing about burying young people feels right.”

Antonio took her hand. “I’m glad to know Drew was a believer. That has to help. But the grief his parents feel is different than anything we’ve been through.”

“I wonder what all this stress is doing to Vanessa’s relationship with Ethan.”

“What do you mean, love?”

“Well, grief doesn’t leave much room for romance. I’m afraid the mood of the summer will be dark and heavy instead of light and airy.”

Antonio chuckled. “Light and airy? I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Okay, happy and carefree. You know what I mean. They just shouldn’t be heavy laden when they’re trying to fall in love.”

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“No.” Tessa sighed. “Ethan will have to go back to the University of Memphis at the end of August. It’ll be here before we know it.”

“Guess you won’t get to play matchmaker.”

“Oh, I’m just going to pray.” Tessa squeezed his hand. “I think God has plans for these two. And if I’m right, things will fall into place just as they should.”

Antonio lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re just going to leave it alone and let God act without your help? That’ll be the day.”

“I do think I’ll go downstairs and make some tea.” Tessa stood, suppressing a smile that threatened to give her away. “We’re going to eat at Nick’s tomorrow before we go to the funeral, aren’t we?”

“We should have time, since the service starts at two. Why?”

“Oh, I was just thinking it might be crowded since it’s a holiday weekend. We should probably get there early.”

“No wonder you can’t sleep,” Antonio said. “Why are you wasting your brain power on that?”

“You’re right. I think I’ll get my Bible and have a nice quiet time with the Lord. I’m sure Gus will find a way to blame Brill for the shootings and somehow tie it all to the elusive red shadows. I probably should make sure I’m prayed up so I don’t end up bickering with him.”

Brill sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat for a moment, then set her bare feet on the floor and shuffled over to the window. The side yard was totally lit up with moonlight. Pouncer scurried along the wood fence, chasing away an orange and white cat that belonged to the family two doors down.

Why hadn’t she taken something to help her sleep? It was too late now. If she took a sleep aid, she’d never be able to function in four hours when it was time to get up. How she dreaded facing such a stressful day feeling washed out from the get-go.

Had Vanessa been able to fall asleep? The media would be waiting for her tomorrow like a pack of wolves, pressuring her for a firsthand account of Drew’s shooting death and her own ordeal of scrambling to protect Carter. At least she had some experience with being pursued by them and knew to keep her head down and avoid responding to their barrage of questions.

Brill put her hand on the back of her neck and massaged the muscles. Why was she so uneasy about Vanessa being out in public?

“Honey, why are you standing at the window?”

She turned to the voice, and Kurt’s eyes looked like two black coals in the light of the moon.

“My mind’s racing,” she said. “I want to be sure I’ve covered everything for tomorrow.”

“Tal Davison’s funeral went smoothly, and Drew’s will be a lot smaller.”

“I know. I’m concerned about Vanessa. The media will be all over her, pressing her for the gory details of Drew’s shooting. I think I’ll have Rachel Howell keep an eye on her for the day.”

“I can take care of Vanessa.”

“Are you sure?”

“Where’d that come from?” Kurt sat up in bed.

“I’m probably being paranoid, but if someone wanted to get to her, she’d be an easy target.”

“Honey, you made sure the media reported that Vanessa didn’t see the vehicle
or
the shooter. Why are you worried someone would want to get to her if she isn’t a threat?”

Brill turned her back to him and looked up at the moon. “The problem is I don’t know what constitutes a
threat
since we don’t know why these young people were killed. I don’t think it was just coincidence, but we still can’t find a common thread.”

“What does that have to do with Vanessa?”

“Nothing, I hope. But until we know more, I just think it would be wise to take extra precautions today.”

“What
precautions?”

“Keep your voice down, Kurt. All Vanessa needs is for you to overreact.
”
Brill walked over to the bed and sat next to him.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I had let go of the idea that Vanessa might be in danger.”

“I had too, but now I’m not so sure. I’m not too keen on her being out in the open, especially with the media singling her out. Rachel was wonderful when she accompanied me to Memphis for Zack’s funeral. She’s the best shot in the department, and she’s a black belt in karate. Other than Trent, I can’t think of anyone I would trust more to watch Vanessa’s back.”

Stedman sat in the La-Z-Boy in his moonlit living room. The ticking of the cuckoo clock his grandmother gave him seemed exaggerated and annoying. He got up, stopped the pendulum, and listened to the silence, which was soon replaced by the drip-drip-drip of the kitchen sink.

He flopped on the couch and stretched out. How much trouble was he in? His fingerprints were all over the Smith & Wesson someone turned over to the police. If the cops came looking for him, what could he tell them? There was no record of the deal he made with Grant. No alibi for the time of the shooting.

Stedman sighed. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Grant had switched the deck and dealt himself a straight flush and Stedman four jacks. Grant set him up to bet big and lose big. Were the other players in on it?

None of it made sense. Why did Grant need to frame Stedman? He could’ve gotten away with killing Win Davison’s son without anyone knowing or suspecting him. He was a model employee.

Stedman sat up and threw a couch pillow in the fireplace, sending last winter’s ashes in all directions. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

Your gambling’s an addiction, son. Get help before they own you.

Father David’s words resounded in his head and both angered and frightened him. They owned him, all right. The question was, had they sold him out?