16

Late Saturday morning Lillian stumbled down the stairs, her fuzzy, oversized slippers slapping each step. Covering a yawn, she wandered into the kitchen.

Trina turned and smiled. “Hey, I heard you come in last night. Thanks for calling ahead; otherwise I would have sent poor Ted down the stairs with a baseball bat.”

The image of Ted creeping around with a wooden bat played through Lillian’s head. Peaceful, non-violent Ted. Now if Trina had sent Bill—that would have painted a different picture.

She glanced toward the dining room. “No guests today?”

“No, I think everyone wanted to stay home for the holidays. We only have one more booking through the end of the year. Do you want some coffee?” Trina reached for a mug on the open shelf. “I baked oatmeal muffins this morning in honor of your return.”

Lillian sat at the table. “You’re so sweet.”

“I know they’re your favorites.” Trina handed the coffee to Lillian, and then reached for a round bowl covered with a red-and-white checkered dishcloth. She placed the bowl of muffins on the table and added a dish of fruit.

“Lillian closed her eyes as she chewed. “These are so good.” She heard the scrape of the chair on the old floor and knew Trina had taken a seat across from her. Her heart swelled until she had to swallow against the pain. When had she fallen in love with this family? She had never felt so unconditionally accepted, not even in Cleveland. But here, in this sunny kitchen, she, Lillian Hunter, college professor and friend, felt at home.

Trina’s arms rested across her expanding abdomen, her attention fully on Lillian, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She took another bite of muffin. “I thought about not coming back.”

“Why?” Trina’s back straightened. “Are you unhappy here? Did we do something? Are things not working out at the college? You never talk about work much. Are you doing all right living here—”

She held up her hands. “Whoa, Trina. It’s not you. I thought when I went back to Cleveland I would feel a longing to stay, but all I wanted was to come back here.” She sipped her coffee. “Before I went home, I had hoped that the feeling of alienation would be gone. I actually only got to visit with one friend, and that didn’t go too well.” She sighed, pushing out bitter memories. “The tension at home, the expectations of perfection—don’t put your glass in the sink, make your bed—all came rushing back to me. My mother’s perfection and my father’s controlling nature.”

Trina sat silently, her eyes soft with compassion.

“You know, now that I’ve had time to think about it, I must have carried some of that rigidity to my own home with Craig and Susan. I must have driven them crazy at times with my need for order and control.”

“Do you remember your first breakfast here?” Trina asked.

Lillian spooned chunks of fruit into her mouth.

“You were so nervous,” Trina said. “Usually our guests are on vacation, and in happy moods. But something about you bothered Dad. He said you had a burden of some kind.”

“I remember the looks he gave me that morning, as if he expected me to pull out a gun and start shooting.”

“Nothing that dramatic,” Trina said, a gentle smile curving her lips. “But he was worried about you.”

“I think he still is.”

“Have another muffin.” Trina pushed the bowl closer to Lillian.

“If you keep feeding me like this, I’ll look like you, without the reward at the end.”

Trina ran her hand across her abdomen. “I’m really sorry about your Susan…”

She pressed a finger against a crumb and transferred the morsel to her mouth, resting her fingertip on her lips just for a second. “Margaret told me something the last time I worked at the shelter. She said Craig and Susan were a gift from God.” The hot coffee felt warm in her mouth as she sipped. “Margaret said that she rejoices in the memory of her daughter, knowing God provided those memories.”

“I didn’t know Margaret lost a child.”

“From a genetic brain disease. She said that she still misses her daughter every day.” Lillian paused. “At the time I wondered how she could still smile.”

“Did you figure it out?”

Ted ambled in through the back door. “Good morning, Miss Lillian.” He glanced at his watch and a smile spread across his face. “I guess it’s still morning. Welcome back and hope you had a good Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Miss Lillian’ now?” Lillian grinned at the sparkle in Ted’s eye.

“We’re loaded up and ready to go.”

Trina turned to Lillian. “Will you need me for anything?” She pushed herself off the chair and gathered dishes from the table. “Sandra has a limb on that old magnolia tree in her side yard that needs to come down. Ted and Dad are going to hack away at it—”

“We are going to do more than that, oh, ye of little faith. Your dad has a chain saw.”

Trina’s eyes sparkled. “Oooh. A mighty chain saw: the weapon of warriors. Why not come with us, Lillian? Sandra and I are set to supervise.”

“And fix lunch, I hope,” Ted added.

“And fix lunch,” Trina said. “Come with us.”

“I don’t want to interfere in family time.” She imagined the fun they would have together, so different from the constant tension at home.

“You’re not a guest anymore. After two months at my house, you’re my sister.” Trina hugged Lillian’s shoulders. “You eat in the kitchen, for goodness sake. Guests eat in the dining room.”

Lillian looked at Trina. “Do you know how to cross your eyes?”

“What?”

“Just a sister joke. Let me get my shoes.” She bounced up the stairs. Was it wrong to enjoy this family while being ostracized from her own? It seemed as if every time she allowed herself happiness, pain quickly followed. Would she bring misery to this family?

She pushed the image away as she tied on her shoes. What trouble could she possibly bring?

~*~

Lillian stared at the six-legged creatures marching up and down the length of the severed limb with the scent of freshly cut wood filling her nose.

Trina picked a stick off the ground and placed it in the path of the parade.

“Trina, let the bugs alone,” Bill said, brushing sawdust off the top of his head.

“I just want to see how long it will take for some of the ants to crawl up my stick.”

“Not very long, Aunt Trina,” Jimmy said. “Look!”

Several ants climbed onto her hand. She dropped the stick and picked the ants off her arm.

“If you hang around Trina,” Bill said to Lillian, “you need to know about her flaw.”

“I know what you’re about to tell her, Dad, and it’s not a flaw. I can’t help it. I just feel sorry for the creatures.”

“It’s a flaw,” he replied. “Anyway, back to my story. When Trina was a kid she had a habit of catching the bugs that wandered into the house and taking them back outside. I tried to teach her how to do it right, to squish the little boogers, but even at that age she was stubborn and refused to listen.”

“All God’s creatures deserve to live, Dad.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Do you really pick up things like spiders?”

Sandra held up her hands. “Enough! What am I to do about these ants?” She folded her arms in front of her.

Ted rubbed his chin. “I suppose we should call an exterminator.”

“I bet those are termites!” Jimmy ran from one side of the tree to the other, and then jumped over the sawed-off limb.

Longing tugged at Lillian’s heart, but the ache failed to consume her as in the past. Did Trina hope for a child as wonderful as Jimmy? She thought of the story Trina had told her about Jimmy, how he had endured more in his short six years than any child should when he lost both parents, and more recently, had been at the mercy of a kidnapper for almost a month.

“How do you know they’re termites, Jimmy?” Trina asked.

“I studied them in school.” He assumed a rigid pose in front of Trina and counted off on his fingers. “Termites are a form of cockroach. They lived during the time of the dinosaurs. They live,” he threw his arms wide, “in colonies of millions! And they eat dead wood.” He looked at his grandma. “That’s probably why they’re in our tree.” Jimmy ran and hurtled himself across the limb where he fell among the cast-off branches. “I’m OK,” he said, laughing from the other side.

Sandra sighed. “Jimmy, you’re getting in the way. Come and stand beside me.” She grabbed his hand as he tried to dart past her.

Trina winked. “I’m with you on this one, Jimmy. How do all of you know they’re not termites?” She bent over the crawling critters.

“I know,” Bill said. “They’re carpenter ants and we don’t want them moving to the house now that their nest has been disturbed. We need to get this limb out of here.”

“Grandma says you know things,” Jimmy said. “You knew where to find me when I was kidnapped. God tells you things.”

Bill studied the exuberant boy.

“Jimmy, we can talk about that later,” Sandra said. “And Ted, I doubt that I can reach an exterminator on Saturday, but I’ll go make a few calls.” She pulled the reluctant boy with her toward the house.

“Jimmy can stay with me if it’s all right,” Ted said. “He can help drag wood to the curb once we cut this limb into smaller pieces.”

Sandra let go of Jimmy’s hand and mouthed a “thank you.”

The chain saw roared and Trina covered her ears. She turned to Lillian and shouted, “We might as well start lunch.” The silence of the kitchen seemed tomblike after the ear-piercing noise outside. “Sandra has a nice house.”

“I forgot you haven’t been here before. Did you know her husband built it for her right after they were married?”

The yellow walls looked like sunshine, sort of like Trina’s kitchen. White cabinets climbed all the way to the nine-foot ceilings while an old pendant light hung in the center of the room. A window looked over the side yard, framing the busy men. On the far wall, a round wood table stood surrounded by five chairs. White stove and refrigerator. Metal dishwasher. Black microwave. Unlike in her mother’s kitchen, nothing matched, but it felt homey and lived-in.

“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.