The Friendship Star Quilt (22 page)

Brad kept one eye open during the prayer, so he saw when Anne got up and slipped from the room. He'd half-risen from his seat to go after her, but sat back down. He couldn't follow her, not with Jennie here. He couldn't leave his daughter. Even if he could have done so, he'd have made far more noise than Anne had made, and disturbed the people around him in the process. But he longed to run after her, catch her, and find out why she'd been so frightened. He sighed. He'd just have to try to call her later and hope she was at the shop.

High school students from the church's youth group came out of the kitchen with platters of food and started to serve the tables. Brad forced a smile to his lips before facing his daughter. “Are you ready for some turkey, Princess?”

But Jennie shook her head and refused to be distracted.

“Daddy,” she whispered urgently and leaned toward him. “You have to go find Miss Anne. She's scared. I felt her shivering when she held me. Maybe you scared her, Daddy. You have to show her you're not really scary.”

“I can't leave you here, honey.”

“You'll come back for me, and I'll be fine. Callie's family is right over there.” She pointed to the next table and waved at her little friend. “I can go sit with them.”

Brad was tempted, but he shook his head. “No, Princess. I'll stay here and eat with you. I'll call and talk to Anne later.”

The little girl frowned, and shook her head in a rare show of petulance. “Daddy!” she insisted. “You have to go
now
. Miss Anne is really worried about something. You need to help her. Please go after her. Don't let her cry.”

Brad stared at his little girl. He wasn't sure what amazed him more, the fact she was arguing with him, or the compassion and insight she had for another human being. He'd known she was an intelligent child, but now she sounded like someone five times her age.

“Your daughter is right, Mr. Carmichael. Something has frightened your friend,” the woman across the table said in a soft whisper. She gestured to the steely haired man seated beside her. Brad recognized him as Detective Moore from the Grandville PD. “Bob was just about to follow her… to make sure she's all right… but it might be less frightening for the young woman if you went. Your daughter can stay and eat dinner with us. She reminds me a great deal of my granddaughter.”

“Are you sure? I don't want to impose—”

“Go,” Detective Moore said, nodding toward the door. “Your daughter will be fine. Take whatever time you need. We'll have dinner, listen to the carols then visit with the other families. I'm on the clean-up committee tonight, so the missus and I will be here for hours.”

Brad thanked them, told Jennie to behave, then hurried to the exit. How on earth had Anne managed to slip through the crowd so quickly? He nearly collided a couple of times with the young servers as he navigated to the stairwell. Once there, he took the stairs two at a time and rushed outside just in time to see Anne's trim figure pass under a street lamp in the next block.

He raced after her, cursing himself for not continuing his daily jogs. In high school, he'd been on the track team and held school records for sprinting. In college, he'd continued his morning runs even though he didn't compete on a team. But that had been too long ago. Now, he was lucky if he managed to go for a run once or twice a month. He was out of practice, but managed to catch up with her, slowing his pace to let her become aware of his presence.

“Come this way often?”

She turned to face him, and he drew in a sharp breath. Anne's face was streaked with tears, her features scrunched in a frown.

“What's the matter, Anne? Why did you run away from us?”

“You know why,” she sobbed. “I acted like such an idiot. You must have been so embarrassed by my behavior. I had to leave.”

“Anne, why would I be embarrassed? You didn't do anything wrong. I startled you. I raised my voice, and you were frightened for Jennie. I should be thanking you for being Jennie's champion.”

She turned away. “Are you kidding? People were staring at me like I was a lunatic. I must have resembled one the way I grabbed Jennie to shield her from some imaginary threat.”

“Maybe the threat wasn't so imaginary.”

“You would never have hurt Jennie. No one there would have.”

“You're right,” he replied, reaching out to take her arm and turn her to face him. “No one there would harm Jennie. But you were thinking of someone else, someone who might have harmed her. Someone who hurt you. Who was it, Anne? Who hurt you so badly?”

She turned away, wrapping her arms around her slight frame and rubbing her upper arms. The temperatures had dropped after sunset, and he realized the thin coat she wore couldn't be very warm. His suit jacket wasn't much better.

“Why don't we go back to the church? We can sit in the sanctuary and talk. Or we can sit in my car if you prefer.” He gestured toward the lot behind them. “Your call, Anne. But we need to talk. You're important to Jennie and… you're important to me. If there's something threatening you, I want to know about it. Come on.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her back the way they'd come. When they reached the lot, he paused long enough to ask, “Car or sanctuary?”

“Car… please.” She rubbed her cheeks. “I don't want anyone to see me like this.”

He nodded and led her to his car, unlocked the passenger side and held the door for her. Going around the car, he slid into the driver's seat then turned to study Anne. The parking lot lights cast a soft yellow glow inside the sedan, just bright enough to see the moisture on Anne's cheeks but dim enough, he hoped, to be comfortable for the nervous young woman.

“When I came downstairs and reprimanded Jennie, who were you thinking of?”

She bit her lip and glanced down at her hands, fisted in her lap. “My… husband. Well, my ex-husband, I guess.”

“Why did thinking of him frighten you?”

“Jeffrey had a temper. He used to accuse me of going out of my way to embarrass him, to make him angry. He wanted a classy wife. I was a farm girl, a ‘hick from the sticks.' He planned to divorce me for someone he'd met who knew how to behave in polite society. “

“What an idiot,” Brad muttered then continued before she could comment. “Have you heard from him since you came to Grandville?”

“No. He doesn't know where I am.” She shuddered.

“You ran away?”

She nodded then added in a soft voice. “But… he'll find me.”

“I don't understand, Anne. Why would he want to find you if he left you for someone else?”

She turned away and stared out the window in silence for so long he thought she wouldn't answer. Then she took a deep breath and faced him. He didn't need a brighter light to recognize the fear in her eyes. “Because he got arrested… he embezzled money. He blamed me for telling the police where he was. He was so angry.”

“He abused you?”

She turned away again, her silence answering for her.

A surge of anger swept through Brad. The thought of someone hurting Anne made Brad see red. Questions filled his head, but he clenched his jaw to keep from asking. He wouldn't pry. Anne needed to decide she could trust him, or she'd shut down and lock all her pain inside herself once more.

“Jeffrey was a few years older than me,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her. She stared at her fists clenched in her lap as she spoke. “I'm not sure if I ever truly loved him — I thought I did when we were dating — but Grams was sick, and I was so scared and confused. His family was wealthy, and he promised to pay for good doctors for her once we were married. I don't know if he meant it or not — I think he said it just to get me in his bed. Then Grams died and, before I could think straight, Jeffrey and I were married.”

“Did you… have children?”

Anne averted her face and stared out the window at the other cars parked around them. For a moment, he thought he'd pressed too hard. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I was pregnant when—” Her voice broke, and she shook her head to compose herself before continuing. “I lost the baby when I was seven months along. When I got out of the hospital, I ran away.”

A chill went up Brad's spine. Something in Anne's tone told him her ex-husband had a hand in her losing the baby. He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it, Anne? I'm a good listener.”

She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes for a moment. A tear slid down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

“I'd been so miserable,” she whispered. “Jeffrey and his family hated me. They ridiculed me every chance they got. When I found out I was pregnant, I was so happy. I'd have someone to shower with my love, someone who would love me back. Jeffrey's parents even started to be nicer to me. I think they liked the idea of an heir. When I lost the baby, they blamed me for—”

Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “I guess it wasn't meant to be. Maybe it was for the best. I wouldn't have been able to afford to take care of her now.”

“Your baby was a little girl?” he asked softly.

Anne nodded.

“I got to see her for just a moment in the hospital. The nurse let me touch her cheek. She was so perfect, so fragile… so helpless.” The tears started flowing again. “I failed her, Brad! Before she was even born, I couldn't protect her from him.”

Brad wanted to comfort her, wasn't sure she'd let him, but had to try. He reached over and gathered her into his arms. She turned and buried her face in his suit jacket as wracking sobs shook her slight frame. His shirt grew damp, but he didn't care. He wasn't sure what had caused her to lose her child, but he suspected what had happened and felt a surge of rage. His blood boiled with anger at the base excuse for a man who'd caused this deep pain. How could any man hurt his pregnant wife and unborn child?

He held Anne until she'd cried herself out. When her tears stopped and her sobs faded to an occasional sniffle, Brad continued to keep his arms around her, not with any amorous intent but in the way a friend comforts another friend.

Comforts and protects
, he amended.

He had so many questions. Questions they needed to discuss, but he wouldn't push, He'd wait until she was ready to tell him more. His mind reeled with what she'd already shared. The poor kid had lost her baby and run away from an abusive relationship. Where was the guy now? Who was he? She'd said his family had been wealthy. How had she gotten away? Was he searching for her?

And perhaps, most important of all, was the creep her ex or was she still married to him?

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra's arrangement of “Carol of the Bells” blasted in the living room of Anne's small apartment the night before Christmas Eve. Normally, Anne wouldn't have played her music so loud. She always wore headphones to listen to her CDs so she wouldn't disturb her sweet downstairs neighbor. However, Helyn had already left to spend the holidays with her son's family in Ohio, so Anne had the entire house to herself and could fill it with the sound of her favorite music group.

Humming, she plugged in the cord for the small, pre-lit Christmas tree she'd bought the previous evening at Meijer. The light from the tree shed a festive glow, adding to her enjoyment.

It had been a long time since she'd had a tree — or holiday decorations of any sort. Jeffrey had sneered at the ones she'd put up the first Christmas they were together. Admittedly, they had probably been tacky compared to the ones he had grown up around — trees so elegant they'd been photographed for numerous decorating magazines. His mother's interior decorators special ordered her eleven-foot tall masterpieces, enhanced them with additional branches to create the perfect shape then adorned them with thousands of dollars' worth of meticulously placed decorations in crystal, silver and whatever color was the current rage. Aesthetically appealing but colder than an iceberg. They were much different from the fragrant Douglas firs, lovingly draped with garlands of cranberries and popcorn then hung with myriad hand-me-down ornaments, in the parlor of Grams' house each Christmas. Since Jeffrey had preferred perfection to warmth, Anne never tried to decorate again, seeing no reason to open herself to his ridicule.

During her first Christmas in Grandville, she'd still been too frightened to do more than acknowledge the holiday with small gifts to Myra, Courtney, and her landlady. She'd spent the day itself huddled under the blankets of her bed, mourning the loss of her baby and contemplating her uncertain future.

This year, her life held so much more promise. Grandville felt like home. She had a cozy apartment, a good job, and friends who cared about her. The carol service at Brad's church had lifted a burden from her soul, too. Since then, she'd found herself humming little snippets of holiday songs at the oddest times, and the night before, she'd had a sudden urge to decorate her little nest. Her budget didn't allow for a big, live tree and all the trappings — nor did she have the space for one — so the small tree with its serene angel tree topper was perfect. Just seeing it made her happier.

She hadn't turned into a complete Pollyanna, however. Jeffrey's eventual release from prison still concerned her. But the mere thought of it no longer paralyzed her with fear. She'd changed over the past few months, grown more confident in herself and her abilities. She liked having friends, being sought out for advice and appreciated when she gave it. Most of all, she liked the woman she saw these days when she stared in the mirror.

As the final notes of the song swelled to a crescendo, Anne heard a noise distinctly different from the clashing cymbals and throbbing drumbeats on the CD. She reduced the volume on the portable player to listen. The sound repeated itself. Someone was at her back door, knocking. Not an angry pounding, just a polite rap loud enough to have been heard over TSO. Anne glanced at her watch. It had grown dark outside, but it wasn't quite eight o'clock, not extraordinarily late for people to come calling.