Chapter 7

You’re sure you don’t mind leaving early?” Hailey asked.

Her palm felt damp against the telephone receiver and she tapped her foot anxiously.

“No, it sounds like fun,” Cody answered. “In fact, why don’t we leave early enough so we can stop for dinner after the gallery?”

“Okay. I’ll be at an in-service until about two thirty—that’s the only reason I’m not working tomorrow night—so we could leave anytime after three.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at three thirty if that’s okay. That’ll get us to Madison a little after four. The meeting doesn’t start until seven thirty, so we should have plenty of time for everything.”

“I’ll be ready.”

❧

Cody opened the car door, and Hailey slid in. Before closing the door, he bent down and said, “You look very nice.”

She smoothed her skirt, then fingered the gold buttons on the cuffs of her sleeves. She wore hunter green suede heels that picked up the color in the dark print of her dress, and a matching ribbon gathered her hair loosely at the base of her neck. Watching him walk around the front of the car, Hailey appraised the striking difference between this man dressed in a gray and black tweed sport jacket and black slacks, white shirt, and red tie, and the paint-spattered workman who had opened another door for her. When he slid behind the steering wheel, she smiled. “To quote my great-uncle in Kentucky, ‘You clean up right nice, yerself!’ ”

Cody laughed as he stretched his arm across the back of the seat and turned to back out of the driveway. He lifted his index finger, pointing to her right cheek. “That’s turning a really interesting color,” he said.

Hailey made a face. “T.J., my nephew, says it matches my shoes.”

As they drove onto the country road, Cody said, “He’s just jealous. I can remember a few shiners that I was real proud of when I was a kid!”

“Not from doors, I take it.”

“One was from a baseball, but the rest were all from fists!”

“You must have been some kid!”

He laughed. “My dad had a full head of brown hair when he married my mother. Six years later he was almost completely gray, and he gives me credit for all of it! You’ve probably heard a few Christian testimonies that don’t leave a dry eye in the house—well, mine is like that.”

Hailey turned to face him intently and was surprised by the grin that split his face.

“Mine usually evokes tears of laughter, however.”

Hesitantly, Hailey encouraged, “Go on.”

“I was one angry kid after my mother died and I moved here. Looking back, it seems odd that I never felt any anger at Robert—I just took it out on everyone and everything else. I got in with a group of guys who were experts at defacing property. We called ourselves the Graffitis. We blew up mailboxes, broke windows, painted overpasses, that kind of thing. I was sixteen and one step away from reform school when I got sent to prison for two days. The judge pointed at me and said, ‘If this doesn’t turn you around, we’re going to give up on you, boy!’ ”

Hailey laughed. “Did it turn you around?”

“Oh, yeah! I spent two nights in a cell with a twelve-hundred-pound gorilla! This huge bald dude with fingers as big around as my legs was in for armed robbery. He’d become a Christian through a prison ministry, but his persuasive tactics hadn’t changed much! As soon as they closed the bars behind me, this big ape picked me up by the armpits, swung me around, and held me up over his head. ‘Now listen close, punk,’ he said, ‘the only way you gonna get outta this place and stay outta this place is with Jesus, so you got two days to do some serious changin’ or I’m stickin’ your head in the toilet!’ ”

He turned to look into Hailey’s wide eyes. “When he finally set me down, I tried telling him that I believed in Jesus and I’d gone to church all my life, but before I knew it I was off my feet again, this time upside down, staring into the toilet! He said that anyone who really loved Jesus wouldn’t hurt Him by ending up in prison. Then he set me down and kept me awake the whole night talking. He didn’t have a lot of book knowledge, but he sure knew the Lord. By morning I was on my knees in tears—and it was for real.” He paused and grinned at her again. “So how did you come to be a believer?”

“That’s not fair! Who could follow that? Are you sure you didn’t make that up?”

“I’m sure. I still keep in touch with him. So, seriously now, tell me about you.”

Hailey was silent for several minutes. “I came to live with Karlee in January. For a lot of reasons, I wanted to get away from Nebraska for a while. I was running, I guess, from some. . .things. I got into a Bible study at Karlee’s church and heard the whole gospel message for the first time—we weren’t raised in a church.” Her voice softened, and Cody had to lean toward her to catch every word. “It was the message of forgiveness that. . .broke me, I guess. To know that Jesus went through such torture so that I wouldn’t have to carry around my guilt—it was so incredible, so freeing.” She was quiet again, then added, almost in a whisper, “If only we could forgive ourselves like He does.”

❧

Paige was talking to a customer at the back of the long room as they walked into the gallery, but she managed to exchange a look of anticipation with Hailey.

Cody walked ahead of Hailey to the left side of the room and pointed out a simple pen-and-ink drawing entitled Pirouette. He touched the price beneath the frame and shook his head. “To think of all the money I wasted on law school. . . I should have followed in my mother’s footsteps!”

Stepping beside him, Hailey nodded. “My niece has done some pretty great stuff in kindergarten—maybe we should start marketing it.” They laughed, but Hailey was conscious that hers was a nervous giggle compared to Cody’s natural laughter. She was beginning to question their scheme as her eyes connected with those of Paige, who was walking toward them.

Paige winked at her, but Hailey responded with a worried look. Was she being overdramatic, putting Cody on the spot? The surprise had kept her smiling to herself all day as she anticipated his reaction. Yet somehow, standing ten feet from the painting of the Indian woman, her stomach was twisting in knots. Looking up at Paige, Hailey could see that Paige did not share her anxiety.

“I heard that!” Paige whispered in mock indignation. “Please don’t let our serious customers hear you making fun of our displays.” She lowered her voice even more. “Or our prices!” She gestured toward a watercolor. “Now this one should be more to your elementary tastes!”

Paige commented on four more pictures, then stepped back, taking Hailey by the hand as Cody stepped to where the painting of the Indian woman hung in a slight recess in the wall. Hailey gripped Paige’s hand and held her breath. Cody froze, then rocked back slightly, almost as from a physical blow.

Hailey pulled her hand away from Paige and went to his side. The look on his face frightened her, and she put her hand on his arm. Her voice was barely audible. “Cody?”

She turned to the painting, but Cody’s eyes stared back at her from the painted face. The glossy black hair, the long ends blowing in the wind, was held against the woman’s temples with a beaded band that echoed the blues in the sky behind her. Her arms were crossed akimbo, and long fringes of white leather fell from them over her slim waist. She was beautiful. The painting was signed simply, “Nita.”

A full minute went by before Cody spoke. “Where?” He pulled his eyes away and fixed his gaze on Hailey. “Where did it come from?”

She glanced helplessly at Paige, who answered his question.

“New Mexico?” he repeated. He put his hand to his temple, and Hailey felt him sway. She grasped his arm tighter.

“They were. . .stolen.” His voice was hoarse. “All of them. I thought that was. . .” He stopped, taking a deep breath.

The phone rang, and Paige bit her lip and nodded to Hailey, then left to answer it.

“Cody,” Hailey whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He pulled away, his eyes still riveted to the face in front of him. “I—I just need a minute. . . .” He turned from her and walked toward the door.

Hailey stared at the painting, at the dark eyes that were Cody’s eyes. “Dear God,” she whispered, “give me words.” On her way to the door, she waved to Paige, who was still on the phone. Paige smiled sadly at her and pressed her hands together, telling Hailey that she would pray, then mouthed, “Call me.”

He was leaning against her side of the car, facing her as she walked toward him, but not seeing her. Though the evening breeze was warm, his arms were folded in front of him, as if warding off the cold. The click of her heels on the sidewalk roused him, and his eyes locked with hers.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated when she stood in front of him. “We shouldn’t have sprung it on you—I should have told you about it first.” Hailey put her hand over his where it rested on his arm. Softly, she added, “I should have realized what feelings this must bring out, what memories. Paige and I were so excited when we were sure it was your mother—I just couldn’t wait for you to see it. . . .”

He smiled slightly, and his eyes sparkled with tears. “Thank you. . .for that.” Her hand slid away as he lifted his and gently pulled away the strands of hair that were blowing across her lips. “There’s no way you could have known what an impact it would have on me. You’d have to know the whole story.”

Hailey looked at him expectantly, and his smile broadened. His voice was almost a whisper. “I’ve seen that look before.”

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and she instinctively raised her hand to brush it away. She was touched by his lack of self-consciousness and the trust in his eyes. “Why don’t we take a walk,” she suggested.

They walked in silence for several minutes; then Cody cleared his throat. “I’m not sure about the time frame—my facts are probably a little jumbled. I’ve got the memories of a little boy mixed in with what my dad has told me over the years. The robbery must have taken place only a few weeks, maybe days, before my mother died—I know she was in the hospital at the time. Someone broke into the shop in the middle of the night and just about cleaned it out. Dad will know the details. I mostly remember everyone crying—Pampa, Millie, Dad, my mother. . . That was the hardest. I remember feeling how thin she was when I put my arms around her and she was crying. She kept saying, ‘They were yours, they were yours. . . .’ ”

Hailey motioned to a bench in a small park just ahead of them. Cody sat beside her and stared down at the key ring in his hand. Twice he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but stayed silent. Hailey touched his shoulder, trying to give him the courage to continue, and felt him tremble. He turned sideways to face her, then looked down again.

Several minutes went by before he looked up. Tears were on his face and anger in his eyes and voice. “I knew she was dying, but that, the robbery, was what killed her.”

Hailey nodded, unaware of the tears in her own eyes. “The loss,” she whispered, “of her legacy to you. . .”

Cody’s right hand clenched in a fist around his keys; his knuckles whitened. “I’ve tried not to hate, but I’m glad they never caught whoever did it. It’s better to blame someone without a face.” He was silent for several minutes, then rubbed his hand across his face and sighed. “We’d better go.” He smiled softly at her and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “Thanks, Little Foot. You’re a good listener.”