Cape Refuge (31 page)

 

C
ade leaned against the wall in the back corridor of the Municipal Court building, waiting for the judge to come out of the courtroom. He had timed it so that he wouldn't have long to wait—Randy Simmons never held court after three o'clock.

Randy was already unzipping his robe as he burst out the door. He wore a pair of baggy shorts underneath. “How's it going, Cade?” Randy asked him.

“Pretty good. Can I talk to you in private?”

“Sure.” The judge led him back to his chambers, which consisted of a small office just barely big enough to hold a desk and a couple of chairs. Since Cape Refuge wasn't big enough to have court every day, he did most of his work at his law firm.

He took off his robe, tossed it over a chair.

Cade chuckled. “I see you're still taking the office of judge as reverently as always.”

Randy sat down behind his desk and propped his flip-flopped feet on it. “If you had to listen to a hundred people whining about speeding tickets and bad checks, you'd want to be comfortable too.”

“I guess you're right.”

“So, what's on your mind?” the judge asked. “Have you found that Rick Dugan character?”

“No, not yet,” he said. “We're still looking for him. It's strange that we haven't found him. I have APBs in every county in Georgia and most of Alabama and Mississippi too. But that's not why I'm here.”

Cade got up and slid his hands into his pockets. “Sadie . . . the girl who's working for your wife—I found out she's a teen runaway, but when I went to check on her family, I learned that her mother's in jail, and she's been living with the mother's boyfriend. Name's Jack Dent. He's a drug dealer and abusive—which is why she came here so beaten up. She begged me not to send her back to him, and her mother did too. Morgan and Jonathan Cleary want to take temporary custody of her, with the mother's permission.”

The judge dropped his feet and scooted his chair closer to the desk. “You'd have to get the proper papers drawn up, then have the mother sign them. It's no hill for a climber. I could draw the papers up in my lawyer hat if you want me to.”

Cade nodded. “I would like to get this taken care of as soon as possible.”

“Tell Morgan to call me, and we'll get the papers drawn up this week.”

“Meanwhile,” Cade said, “can you give me some kind of court order to keep her here?”

“I can't do that,” Randy said. “It's not my beat. But drawing up the papers and getting the mama to sign them should be enough.”

Cade had to be satisfied with that. He shook the man's hand. “Well, thanks. I appreciate it. I'll get details to you so you can draw them up. I'll take them to the mother myself.”

Randy dropped his feet. “Sounds good. So how are Morgan and Blair? I heard Hanover House is being shut down. Any word on where they'll go?”

Cade frowned. “They're not going anywhere, and they plan to fight this.”

Randy breathed a laugh. “That's crazy. They ought to just sell the thing and get it behind them.”

“I understand they've had offers,” Cade told him, “but I don't think they want to sell. Looks like they're going to dig in—and Sadie's one of the big reasons.”

“What's she got to do with it?” Randy asked.

“Well, if Hanover House is closed down, they have to ask all their tenants to leave.”

“They could get another place, take her with them.”

“But they're real attached to that place, you know. They grew up there. Their parents were so invested in it. All this has happened kind of fast, and they're just not ready.” Cade moved his chair out of the way so he could get to the door. “Thanks a lot, Randy. I'll get in touch with you.”

“Yeah,” Randy said, behind him.

Cade was hopeful that they had an answer for Sadie as he went back to the station.

 

J
onathan couldn't help being amazed at the number of people who turned out for the memorial service for Thelma and Wayne Owens. Many had come to the funeral, he understood, but now that their grief had taken root, they needed more of a good-bye to their friends. Some were gawkers, and others just came for the gossip value. But most came because they had loved the vibrant couple who had been such a part of the island's life.

Jonathan was nervous and found himself perspiring more than he had ever done when he had come to this church before. He had them open all the doors, and as they began to sing the praise songs that Thelma and Wayne would have led, he felt a calm wash over him, reminding him that it wasn't about how good he was as a preacher or how well he filled Wayne's shoes. It was about reaching people, changing hearts for Christ just as they had always done. That is what Wayne would have wanted.

As their songs rose to the sky and spread out to the street, stragglers began coming in from the dock, seamen who had just come to shore, and customers from Cricket's who heard the sound of praise. They all stood at the doorways, peeking inside. Morgan smiled as her mother would have done and played the chords of the praise songs that Jonathan led.

When they stopped singing, Jonathan began to preach about the two lives that had been so beautifully dedicated to the Lord, about the work and the place where they had invested their lives, and he told where they were and what their legacy was to the people of this community. And then he told why. As he did, he realized that the inadequacies of his own speech were overshadowed by the Holy Spirit as it worked in the hearts of those who listened.

 

 

B
lair sipped her coffee at the picnic-style table in Cricket's, watching through the screen window as people crowded into the doorways of the warehouse. She had not been able to make herself go. She didn't want to hear testimonies about her parents and their life's work for the God who had allowed them to be murdered.

She could hear the singing, the sweet peaceful sounds of praise for a God that so many seemed to believe in. She watched as people from the restaurant got up and gravitated toward the music. Whether it was curiosity or religion that drew them, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that it wasn't for her. She knew her sister would be disappointed, that others would wonder where she was. But they would just have to understand.

“Gonna miss the service,” Charlie said from behind the bar as he wiped the counter.

Blair stared into her cup. “I was at the funeral service,” she said. “I don't need to say good-bye again.”

The screen door to Cricket's bounced, and Cade walked in, looked around, and caught her eyes. He was wearing a sport coat and khaki pants, a white shirt that contrasted nicely with his tan. She propped her chin on her fist and looked out at the water.

She heard his footsteps approaching on the wooden floor.

“Mind if I sit with you?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He slid across from her, his eyes silently resting on her. “I thought I'd see you there,” he said finally. “Somebody said you were over here. Thought I'd see if you're okay.”

“I'm fine,” she said. “I'm just not into church. Never was. You know that.”

“It's no big surprise, but this
is
a memorial service for your folks.”

“As I was telling Charlie, I've been there and done that.”

“And then there's that minute possibility that you might learn something.”

“Doubt it.” She brought her cup to her mouth.

He just gazed at her, those eyes seeing far too much. She turned her face again, hiding the scars.

“So tell me what you're thinking about while you watch those people fill that little building.”

“I'm thinking that I'm tired of this town, Cade,” she whispered. “That I don't know why I stayed here all these years.”

“I sometimes ask myself the same thing,” he said, “but I think the island gets under your skin, in your blood. We couldn't leave if we wanted to.” He shifted his body and looked back toward the warehouse. “Look at that, Blair. Those are your friends. Your parents' friends. They love your family and what it represents. Those are the ones who make up the real Cape Refuge. Not that city council. That's why you can't ever leave.”

“Think again,” Blair said. “I'm thinking about doing just that.” She met his eyes and saw the concern on his face.

“You'd miss the ocean,” he said, “the sound and the smell. You'd miss the sand and the sunshine.”

“There are other beach towns,” she said, “but I was thinking of going to the mountains. Colorado, maybe. I want to live where there's snow.”

His eyes were as serious as she had ever seen them. “There are people here who'd miss you, Blair.”

She smiled. “Who? My sister has Jonathan, and all those people she hovers over. They probably wouldn't even notice I was gone.”

“You'd miss her.”

“Yeah, well, everything's a trade-off.”

He reached across the table, took her cup out of her hands, sipped it. There was something strangely intimate about that, and Blair questioned the warm feeling it gave her.

He set the cup down and put her hands around it, pressed his over them. “And then there's me. I would miss you, Blair.”

She knew her scars were probably blood red again, so she turned back to the window. “That's nice, Cade. But soon enough you're going to meet one of these blonde tourists breezing through town, fall in love, marry her, and have tanned little children running around crabbing on the beach.”

He grinned. “Or you could,” he said. “There are plenty of tanned
men
breezing through town.”

She smiled a sad smile. “Not going to happen,” she said, “not to me.”

She dug into her purse, pulled out two dollars, and set them on the table. “You better get back to the service, before somebody misses you and turns you in to the spiritual police.”

He smiled and slid out of the booth. “You won't run off to Colorado without letting me know, will you?”

She sighed. “Don't worry. I'm not planning to leave in the next few days. Too much is unsettled. I fight to win.”

She started past him to the door, but he caught her arm and stopped her. She turned around and looked up at him. “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. “I mean, really okay?”

She felt exposed, and she didn't like it. “I'm fine,” she said. Then before he could say anything else, she pulled out of his grasp and headed back to Hanover House.

 

M
organ found Blair lying in their parents' bedroom at Hanover House, curled up on the bed, clutching both of her parents' pillows.

“We missed you at the service,” she said.

Blair sat up as if she didn't want to be seen that way. “I saw that it was a big crowd. I'm glad it went well.”

Morgan came in and closed the door behind her. “Jonathan was wonderful,” she said. “He did a good job. And Wilson Riley offered to preach next Sunday. He's a retired preacher, you know. He wants to do it.”

Blair breathed a laugh. “No one can fill Pop's shoes. You know that.”

Morgan sat on the bed and pulled her feet up beneath her. “What's the matter, Blair?”

“Nothing. I'm just a little amazed at how easy it is for you.”

“What's easy?”

“Just moving on,” Blair said, “picking up and filling Pop's shoes. Mama's too.”

“All I did was go to a church service,” Morgan said.

Blair pulled herself off the bed. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap.” She fiddled with something on the bed table, then turned around and looked at her sister. “I think I've changed my mind about selling Hanover House.”

Morgan grunted. “Why? I thought we had decided that we wouldn't. I thought we were going to fight it, stand firm, and not let the city council intimidate us.”

Blair's eyes were misty as she turned back around. “But I'm tired, Morgan,” she said, and the weariness was apparent in every word. “I need help moving on.”

“How would it help?” Morgan asked. “Selling our home and everything that belonged to Mama and Pop—how in the world could that help?”

“I could use the money,” Blair said.

Morgan's mouth fell open. “For what?”

“To move out of this place, to start over someplace else where no one knows me.”

“How'll that help?” Morgan cried. “Why would anybody want to go where no one knows them?”

“Because they could start over,” Blair said. “There'd be hope for a future.”

“You have hope here. You were happy before all this. You never wanted to move before.”

“I've always wanted to move,” Blair said, “but I never did because they were here, and it would have broken their hearts. But now it's easier. I want to do it, Morgan. I want to sell this house.”

“Well, I don't! Mama and Pop would have wanted us to keep going. The church service, Hanover House, they were all tools to Mama and Pop to help them reach people, and I want to do that too. I have it in me and so does Jonathan. We can do it. It can be my mission field just like it was theirs.”

Blair ground her teeth together. “Don't you tell me you feel called.”

“That's exactly what I feel.”

“Oh, please!” Blair shouted. “You make me want to throw up. Why is it that every time a Christian gets a bee in his bonnet they say they feel ‘called'?”

“Because it's true.”

“It's not true,” Blair said. “It's just another manipulative technique that ends the conversation. If you feel ‘called,' then nobody can argue with it. But you know what? I don't believe, so it doesn't work with me.”

“So you don't believe,” Morgan said, smearing a tear across her face. “Mama and Pop couldn't change that, and I haven't been able to change that. But you don't have to mock my beliefs. I do feel a calling and so did Mama and Pop.”

“That's right,” Blair shouted. “They felt that calling to serve God. They gave him their lives. They served him night and day. And look how protected they were! Look how blessed! They were
murdered,
Morgan! Where was he when they were screaming for their lives? Where is he now, when that killer is still out there, walking around free and laughing because he got away with it?”

Morgan sank back down. “There'll come a time when God's wrath will come down on the person who did this, Blair. When God's anger over Mama and Pop's deaths is avenged.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it says so in the Bible, and I believe it.” She wiped her tears and tried to find the words. “Blair, we live in a violent, dark world. It wasn't the way God wanted it in the beginning.”

“Oh, right,” Blair said. “The fallen nature. Adam and Eve sinned, so our parents had to be murdered. Makes sense to me.”

Morgan looked helpless. “Blair, I ask the same questions. Where was God? Why did he let this happen? And I don't know the answers. But I know that our parents are in heaven because Jesus shed his blood so that this world wouldn't be imprisoned to sin anymore. The person who did this will have to face God one day. His knees will bow and his tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. And he's going to pay for what he did.”

“By going to hell? So let me get this straight,” Blair said. “Because I don't believe, I'll be in hell with the same person who killed our parents?”

Morgan slammed her fist into the mattress. “Oh, Blair, God never wanted you to go to hell. We were all headed there, anyway. Jesus died on the cross to save us from that. He died to save you too. He probably mourns every day because you haven't reached out and taken the life preserver he's thrown out to you. You'd rather drown in your confusion, in all your unanswered questions, in all the pain you carry around.”

“And
you'd
rather drown in your faith.”

“Faith doesn't make you drown, Blair. It makes you walk on the water. It makes you go on when life doesn't make sense, when it isn't fair, when horrible things happen. It reminds you that you're not alone. That Someone is there with you, carrying that burden that's so crushing that you can't even stand up straight.”

Blair only shook her head and wiped the tears on her face. “I can carry my own burdens.”

Then she left the room, ran down the stairs, and out the front door. Morgan just curled up in the same place her sister had been, and wept into her father's pillow.