A Dime a Dozen (44 page)

“I broke the rules,” I said. “So sue me.”

He raised one gnarled finger and pointed it at me.

“You…” he said, shaking his finger. “You are a pip.”

“A pip?”

“Yeah. I like you. You can stay.”

“I was staying anyway.”

“See?” he laughed and then he started to cough and then he began to choke. Finally, he recovered and breathed in and out, in and out. “Like I said,” he whispered. “You’re a pip.”

In my hand, I had my Bible, and in the quiet of the room, I turned to the book of First John. It was so dark in there that I had to squint, but once I found the verse I wanted—the fifth verse of the first chapter—I began to read aloud.

“This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all…”

I continued to read until I got to the ninth verse, and then I spoke a bit more loudly.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

I stopped reading and closed the book, holding it in my lap.

“You don’t have much time left, Lowell,” I said bluntly. “Are you right with God? Have you given your heart to the Lord and asked for forgiveness of your sins?”

“My sins are too big to be forgiven.”

I placed my hand on top of the Bible and prayed silently for God to give me the words that would reach this man’s heart.

“God promised us that He would purify us from
all
unrighteousness,’” I said. “That means He will forgive
all
our sins, Lowell. Even the sin you committed the day you first turned your back on your daughter.”

“I have begged God for mercy on my soul,” he said wearily.

“Then God has already given you that mercy. All you had to do was ask for it. Now you just have to ask your daughter for forgiveness as well.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s too late now,” he said. “I can’t make it up to her.”

“Yes, you can,” I said. “You can hold her by the hand. You can say ‘I love you, Karen.’”

“She doesn’t want to hear that from me,” he whispered.

I heard a fluttering noise, and I looked up to see Karen standing there in the doorway, tears streaming down her face.

“Yes, I do, Daddy,” she told him. “Yes, I do.”

I left the two of them there in the room, patting Karen on the shoulder as I went. Hopefully, with what little time he had left, they would be able to make their peace.

Out in the waiting room, I saw Pete sitting in a chair, and I went to him and gave him a hug.

“Karen’s in there with him now,” I said, taking the seat across from him.

“I know,” he replied. “We came here together.”

“Together?”

He nodded.

“I went to her last night and told her about the will. We met with the lawyer this morning and drew up some papers that laid out how things will be distributed once I inherit. We split things right down the middle. She gets the house and I get the orchard.”

“Who gets the sapphires?” I asked.

He grinned.

“Any money from those will go into a trust, with the interest to be used to support Go the Distance.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of emotion.

“You’re a good man, Pete,” I said. “I wish you the best.”

We shook hands and then said goodbye.

“Hey, Callie,” he said, calling after me. “If you ever want a date with a soda jerk, the offer stands.”

His twinkling eyes and handsome grin made for an enticing invitation indeed. But I wasn’t interested, and with a smile and a wave I turned and walked away. I already had someone, and in less than 24 hours, he and I would be face-to-face.

I found my car in the parking lot, thinking about the cryptic e-mail, I had received from Tom this morning. It had said, simply, “See Skytop for further instructions.” I wasn’t sure what his message meant, but I would be going to the rental company in the morning to turn in the keys to the cabin, so I assumed I would find out then.

For now, I drove to the church for Enrique’s memorial service, though I knew I would be getting there just a little bit early. Natalie and Luisa had planned a simple ceremony, to be followed by some food back at the house.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t help thinking of all that had happened in the past week, starting with the man I had watched die not 50 feet from where I was now. I turned into a space and shut off my car, sitting there for a moment in the quiet and getting my thoughts together.

This had been one of the most complicated cases I’d ever worked— made infinitely more difficult by the crimes that had been committed. Though it would be a few weeks before MORE would get the actual check, I had recommended that they be approved for the million-dollar grant, providing they followed our contingencies.

As for Harriet, she had left early this morning to drive home to DC. She was taking with her a newfound love of the Smoky Mountains, several jars of barbecue sauce from the Pig Stop, and the telephone number and e-mail address of a certain white-collar crime specialist who seemed to have found her particularly engaging.

I had already said my goodbyes to June Sweetwater, the detective who had presided over the crime scene at the mine yesterday with the utmost of compassion and professionalism. Zeb Hooper and Danny Stanford were indeed both dead, killed by the impact of the collapse.

The “aiding and abetting” charge against Snake Atkins had been dropped, given that he had had no involvement with the stabbing in the parking lot except as a witness—and then he had been threatened into silence by Danny Stanford afterward. He would still face charges of “criminal mischief” for the petty vandalism he had committed against Luisa, but given Danny’s coercion and manipulation that had tricked Snake into committing the acts in the first place, his lawyer hoped that he could work out his sentence through probation and community service.

Snake didn’t know this yet, but the mayor was also planning to award him a medal for bravery, citing his heroic efforts in coming into the mine and cutting us all loose from our duct tape. Trinksie also looked at me with something near hero worship, claiming I had saved her and her son’s life by throwing them free of the collapse.

Sadly, I wouldn’t be seeing the Morales kids again, but I walked into the church and hugged Luisa before taking a seat in the pew. As a young widow, I knew the road she had in front of her. It wouldn’t be easy, but at least she was going back home now where she would find comfort and fellowship from her friends and relatives.

The service for Enrique was lovely, with some Bible passages read, a few songs sung, and then a brief eulogy given by Dean. There were many praises you could give a person, Dean said, but the highest praise he knew was what he could say of Enrique Morales: He was a good husband. He was a good father. He was a good man.

When the service was over, we adjourned to the Webbers’ house, where we mingled about and nibbled on comfort food and relaxed in the afternoon sun that sparkled on the lake. Luisa didn’t stay long, and as she said her goodbyes, she gave me an extra-long hug.

“There are no words for what you have done for me and my children,” she said. “Only
gracias
. From the bottom of my heart,
gracias
.”

After she left, the somber gathering grew a little more lighthearted. I had an opportunity to see several of the relatives one more time, including Ken Webber and his lovely wife and their two sons. I thanked Ken for his help this week. It was always a pleasure to work with someone intelligent who knew how to get a job done.

I ended the afternoon sitting on the deck, looking out at the mountains and the water. Dean and Natalie joined me there, and we talked a bit about all that had taken place since I first arrived only six nights before.

“I always knew you were good at your job,” Natalie told me. “But I have to say, Callie, this week you have simply astounded me.”

“Me too,” Dean said, patting my arm. “If I ever need a superhero to sweep in and save the day in every way, I sure know who to call.”

“Aw, shucks, guys,” I said. “You’re going to make my head swell.”

Once the guests had all gone home, I took out the canoe and paddled into the lake to enjoy the sunset. It had been a long week, filled with unexpected trials and tribulations. In the past seven days, it seemed as if the theme of death had run through everything I did, from watching a man die and then seeing a man who had long been dead to bringing comfort to a man who was going to die soon. Strangely, death was the one thing that had made me apprehensive about coming here in the first place, where I knew my relationships and my memories would lead me to think about the death of my husband.

Yet, in spite of the memories here, this had been a good week for me emotionally, a good time for me to see how far I had come in the healing process. Tomorrow I would take a bold step of faith toward a deeper, more serious relationship with Tom. I knew that I was ready. And with the blessing of my friend Harriet and of Bryan’s parents, I was looking at my future head-on, eager to embrace it.

For now, I would close this chapter of my life in prayer, remembering especially Luisa and Pepe and Adriana and all of the migrant workers all over the country. Danny Stanford had said that the migrants were “a dime a dozen,” worthless and replaceable. I knew that wasn’t true. I knew God’s Word said that every single person on His earth mattered. Every single one was precious to Him.

Eventually, I found myself drifting past the face in the rocks, Old Gus, and the moment was so sharp and so clear and so filled with déjà vu that I fully expected to be able to turn around and see Bryan there in the back of the canoe.

“Hello, Old Gus,” I said as I paddled past.

Hello, Old Gus
, I could almost hear Bryan echo behind me.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared from the sky, I brought the canoe back to the shore, praying as I paddled that God would keep His hand on all of the people I had met during this past week. I prayed, too, that He would be with me and Tom as we embarked on a new adventure together.

Fifty-One

The adventure began the next day at noon, when I showed up at the Skytop Vacation Rentals office to turn in the keys to the cabin. I had enjoyed a final breakfast on my deck early in the morning and then had closed the place up and joined the Webbers for their 10:00 Sunday church service. We said our final farewells in the parking lot afterward, and now I was dropping off my keys and hopefully getting some kind of instruction from the people at Skytop as to what I should do next.

The woman who signed me out had a funny look on her face, and when she handed me my receipt, she reached under the counter and gave me a small white box, breaking into a big smile.

“This is for you,” she said.

I opened the box to find a cupcake decorated with pink icing and a tiny bunch of plastic balloons. There were words written on the inside of the lid: “Enjoy the cupcake and see Regina at the Marwick Country Club for further instructions.”

Smiling, I thanked the woman, went out to my car, and made the 20-minute drive to the Marwick Country Club, eating the yummy cupcake on the way. Once there, I went inside to the front desk and asked for Regina. A woman came out, grinning, and handed me a little heart-shaped Mylar balloon on a stick. A tag hung from the stick and it said, simply: “See Sarah at the Hertz counter in the Asheville airport for further instructions.”

That was an hour’s drive away, so I settled in and drove there, imagining the possibilities of what Tom had in store. When I reached the airport, I had a feeling I would be turning in the car, so I gathered up my things and brought them inside to the rental counter. I asked for Sarah.

She knew who I was. She told me that she would be returning the car, and after giving me the receipt, she excused herself to go into the back room. A moment later, she emerged with a balloon bouquet and handed it to me with a smile. I took the bouquet and pulled out the card that was attached, fully expecting to be given a gate and flight number. Instead, I was directed to “See Andrew at the limousine pickup area for further instructions.”

I found the fellow named Andrew, who immediately escorted me to a waiting Rolls Royce limousine. Laughing, I climbed inside. The limo was empty except for a gigantic silver balloon, as big as a wide-screen TV, emblazoned with the words “See Tom for further instructions.”

My heart pounded with excitement as Andrew drove away from the airport on the interstate, and several times I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror. We rode along for about 15 minutes before he took an exit, and I watched curiously out the window as we seemed to be heading into the middle of nowhere. He finally pulled to a stop on the side of the road next to a big field. Then he jumped out of the car and opened my door to let me out.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

Carrying my luggage, he escorted me to the middle of the field and then stood there with me, smiling like a Cheshire cat. No matter how many questions I asked him, his answer was the same: “You’ll see.”