Retribution (22 page)

“We'd better get the food cooking before the men start clamoring for sustenance,” Trina said with a chuckle. “Will you cut the onion while I brown the meat?” She pulled ground beef from the refrigerator and reached for the skillet.

Lillian chopped the onion on an old, wooden cutting board and scraped the pieces into the skillet with the meat. She inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of cooking onions. What else do you need me to do?”

“I think Sandra has some vegetables in the refrigerator. You can clean them and make a veggie tray to go with the sloppy joes.”

The sound of knife against wood and the sizzle of meat represented domestic bliss to Lillian. She glanced at Trina and wondered again at the joy that radiated from her friend. Would she ever find that depth of contentment?

“What did Jimmy mean when he said that Bill knows things?” Lillian asked.

“Jimmy was kidnapped right after we moved here. The person was coming into our house and stealing things from a cellar we didn't even know existed, and Jimmy saw him. Then, about a month later, I happened to go downstairs for water and caught the man in the house. God led Dad to both of us and saved Jimmy's life. The doctor said he couldn't have survived another day.”

“That must have been awful.”

“It was pretty bad. Jimmy was more scared than I was, and he still has trouble sometimes leaving Sandra, or when he hears strange noises.”

“So that's all there is to Bill's strange power?” Dare she hope?

“Actually, since then, Dad has opened up to God's leading, and God has given him a deeper understanding.” She grabbed the ketchup from the refrigerator. “It's hard to explain, but it's like Dad senses trouble ahead of time so he can prevent it. It's mostly a sixth sense about people.”

“What can he tell about people?” The green pepper fell into clean strips on the cutting board. She wanted to appear only mildly curious. As she saw it, Bill remained her biggest risk. If he discovered her history from Cleveland, and then somehow he found out about the gas cans…

“Oh, he knows things like if people are telling the truth, stuff like that.”

“That probably comes in handy with strangers coming in and out of your house. Has he ever said anything about me?” She broke open a bag of radishes.

“Actually, he has mentioned you a couple of times.” Trina hesitated. “He said you have a burden that you aren't sharing. And he senses danger around you.”

The knife made a loud smacking sound against the wood cutting board as it pushed through the bottom of a radish.

“You said you thought about not coming back,” Trina continued. “I wonder if Dad was feeling your doubt over leaving Cleveland…or something else.”

Suddenly wishing she had remained back at the inn, Lillian remained silent, eyes focused on her task. The rejection of her parents, fresh from her visit over Thanksgiving, confirmed her inability to be loved. Her attraction to Paul remained a pipe dream, while Roger…she sighed.

“Do you miss Cleveland?”

“No, I miss what I used to have in Cleveland.”

“Your husband and daughter?”

“Yes.”

Lillian looked out the window.

The side yard was private, even in the middle of town, shielded from the neighbor by overgrown dogwood trees and azalea bushes. A redbird clung to the edge of the empty birdbath, undisturbed by the motions of men and boy. Marigolds and mums filled the circular flower bed Bill had been working on for Sandra.

No, she didn't miss Cleveland, but her heart ached from loneliness. This is what she missed. Belonging.

“I have never known God to leave one of His children in misery,” Trina murmured.

Trina peeked at her from across the room, and Lillian rewarded her with a scowl.

“So how's it coming with the men in your life?” Trina asked.

If Lillian had been capable of laughing, she would have bubbled with mirth over Trina's sudden change of topics. So like Trina, always keeping the peace. “I don't think I have much to offer right now.” She pushed the blade of the knife through a tall stalk of celery.

Trina slid the skillet with sizzling meat to a cold burner. “Oh, I think they might disagree with you on that.” Another hesitation. “Paul's been asking about you lately. He thinks you're avoiding him.”

“I'm not avoiding him.”

“You and Roger seem to have plans on some Fridays. We miss you at family night.”

“Trina, I can—”

“No, it's all right. What you do in your free time is your own business. It's just that Paul and Roger have been coming over to the house every Friday night for months now, and then you became part of our group. Now, suddenly, or it seemed sudden, two of you stopped coming. I just wondered if something was up.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “So what about Roger? Are you becoming an item?”

“No.” She set down her knife and looked at Trina. “It's just…no.”

Trina laughed. “It's OK, Lillian. You can like Roger if you want to. This is just girl talk, you know, sister-to-sister. I'm good at keeping secrets—ask my dad. I was trying to keep my pregnancy from him, but he noticed some of my symptoms, like morning sickness and always being tired, and he thought I was dying. It was quite a scene until we got it all straightened out.”

A smile pushed its way onto Lillian's face. “Trina, you're a joy. Life would be so boring without you.” She gazed long at the younger woman. “And, sister-to-sister, I find both guys appealing in different ways. This just isn't a good time for romance right now. Life is complicated.”

Sandra walked into the kitchen, clutching a phone book, and kept walking. “Try to find anyone at work on a Saturday around here.” The words floated into the room as the back door slammed behind her.

Trina giggled. “Poor Sandra. Life is complicated for her too.”

Tromping footsteps. “Yes, I tried them, Bill. I tried every exterminator on the list.”

“What are you supposed to do in an emergency? This wouldn't happen in Ohio.”

“I don't suppose most folks consider ants an emergency,” said Ted.

Jimmy ran across the kitchen and grabbed onto Sandra's hand. “Guess what Uncle Bill can do? He can lift a log the size of a tree all by himself.”

Sandra raised her eyebrows and a sheepish grin spread across Bill's face. “The chain saw got jammed. It was either drag the branch to the curb or kill myself using the hatchet.” He grabbed a paper towel and wiped sweat off his face.

“You made the right choice,” Sandra mumbled.

“Hey guys, go get washed up,” Trina said. “Lillian and I have lunch ready.”

Bill gave Lillian another penetrating look before he left the room. What was he sensing now?

~*~

Trina stifled a yawn. Usually she was the first to go to bed, but tonight she needed to talk to her dad. She either had to wait until he left the parlor so she could follow him, or she had to stay awake until Lillian went to bed.

Her father's ongoing suspicions of Lillian, and Lillian's reticent behavior at Sandra's, had left her uneasy. Saturday night television held no interest for her, but she refused to leave for the comfort of her room and a half-read novel.

Thirty minutes passed and the program changed.

“Lillian, you going to church with us tomorrow?” Trina asked more as a hint to the fleeing time than curiosity.

“I thought I would, but I can drive myself if you have plans afterward.” Lillian seemed mesmerized by the toothpaste commercial.

“No plans. Just thought I'd ask.” Nestled against Ted on the couch, warm and comfortable, she let her eyes drift closed.

Ted's voice awakened her. “I can't believe you're still up, babe.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Usually you hit the bed about nine, and here it is almost eleven.”

“Oh, my, is it that late?” Lillian jumped up from her chair. “I need to get to bed. Good night, all.”

Trina stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She waited until she heard Lillian's bedroom door closing. “Dad, I have something to ask you.”

Bill, halfway out of the recliner, turned. “I was headed to bed, honey. What is it?”

Trina glanced toward the doorway. The entry, grayed to shadows, stood empty. She lowered her voice. “When we were at Sandra's today, and you guys came in for lunch, you gave Lillian a funny look. Were you feeling something?”

Ted clicked off the television.

The silence felt alive, waiting as anxiously as she for her father's answer. She wanted to know, but she didn't. Lillian had become intertwined with her heart, but her dad kept insisting the woman was a danger. She tended to see good in everyone, but even so, she could not believe Lillian concealed maliciousness within her. There had to be another explanation for her dad's concern, and the first step to figuring it out was to have her dad share what he had noticed earlier that day. She had been with Lillian in the kitchen; she knew what they had been discussing, maybe that would help.

Ted shifted on the couch, remote control dangling from his hand. “Did God tell you something about her?”

Bill rubbed his jaw. “Every time I look at the woman, my stomach knots and I feel ready to fight someone…something…I don't know. It's confusing.”

Ted stared at his father-in-law. “Do you think she'll hurt Trina?”

“I keep remembering her first day…” Bill said.

“But Dad, she explained that.” Frustration mounted. Why didn't he move on? And why was she the only one to defend Lillian? According to Ted, even Roger held suspicions. Maybe she should talk to Paul, but what good would it do? She had no real information to share with him other than feelings and speculations.

Bill shook his head. “I know she explained it. There's nothing specific I can lay a hand on, but the feeling's still there, and it's getting stronger.”

The baby kicked, and Trina placed a hand on her stomach. In spite of her attachment to Lillian, the most important consideration had to be her unborn child. What if her dad was right? God had given him a special gift. She liked Lillian and believed her incapable of evil, but if she had to be careful around her, she would do it. A load of rock fell into her stomach. She felt as if she had just betrayed her best friend.

17

“She's here,” Ted whispered to Lillian when she walked in the back door. A glimmer of conspiracy shone from his eyes.

“What's she like?” Lillian cast him a secretive smile as she walked toward the sink. Water overflowed her glass as they glanced down the hall.

“This is called a lady's staircase.” Trina's voice carried to the kitchen. “When the house was built, women wore hoop skirts, and by having the stairs in the back of the house, male guests were prevented from seeing up the ladies dresses.”

Bill, a large leather suitcase in each hand, followed his daughter and the newest guest up the stairs.

The new guest had become a familiar experience to Lillian. The twinges of jealousy that used to accompany the arrival of each new person had eased. Initially, expecting to be relegated to the dining room when other guests were present, she had been pleased when Trina made it known she was welcome, perhaps even expected, to eat with them. And now she had her own role in welcoming new guests. With each new arrival, the routine remained the same.

Trina acted the hostess and Bill carried the luggage.

Ted hugged the background with Lillian, acting as covert spies, until Lillian had to assume her role as “satisfied client.”

“She seems nice. I guess I should be used to ladies traveling alone by now.” Ted pursed his lips. “It's just that, she seems like the kind of lady who should have a husband at her side.”

“How so?”

“She's short and plump, like an Italian mama. But she's dressed like a million bucks with the tailored slacks and shirt. Gray and silver.” He chuckled. “Wonder how Trina knew to put her in the gray room?”

Lillian playfully punched him in the arm. “You sound chauvinistic to me. Can't wait to meet her. How did I end up with this entertain-the-new-guest assignment?”

Ted punched her back. “You're just good at it. Want to help me get the refreshments ready?”

They had just set the tray with iced tea and cookies in the fancy parlor when Trina escorted the guest into the room. “Oh, Lillian, I'm glad you're home. I want you to meet Mrs. Blackwell. Mrs. Blackwell, this is Lillian Hunter, one of our guests, who is more like family now. She's been with us since the middle of October.”

Mrs. Blackwell extended a hand that displayed manicured nails and a large diamond ring. “Please, call me Nadine.”

The woman's skin felt like fluff beneath Lillian's fingers. Nothing like Sandra's grip. She must never do any work.

Trina motioned them to sit and proceeded to serve refreshments as Lillian scanned the familiar room: tall windows, thick moldings, and fireplace already crackling with life. What would a worldly woman like Mrs. Blackwell think of the feminine environment?

“What brings you to this part of the country, Lillian?” Nadine asked before Lillian could begin her job of putting the new guest at ease.

“I accepted a teaching position at Francis Marion University. FMU's the four-year college for this part of the state.”

“And what do you teach, may I ask?” She took a small sip of tea.

“Political science. I worked as an attorney in Cleveland before I moved here.”

Trina hovered around the small table. “Would you like a cookie, Mrs. Blackwell?”

“Please, call me Nadine. I insist. And no thank you, dear, but the cookies do look delicious.”

“Oatmeal raisin, Trina's specialty.” She choked back a giggle and hoped Ted was listening from the hall.

Bill strode into the parlor and handed Nadine her car keys. “Anything else I can do for you before I leave?”