Wincing, Katie shook her head. “I'm not looking forward to that.” She turned the sizzling slices of bacon.
The women gathered, and when they finished eating, Ben and Katie stepped outside to face a solid wall of men and women with cameras and microphones. A good number held notepads. Katie took a deep breath, grateful for Ben's steady support.
A reporter thrust a microphone at Katie. “I understand Clara Townsend is here. Would you like to comment on that?”
Katie shook her head. “Your information is wrong. Mrs. Townsend is not here.”
“Then where is she?”
“All I can say is that she isn't here.”
“You run a women's shelter. Is that correct?”
Ben had told her to answer without lying, and she was doing her best. “That's correct, a shelter for women and horses. We have four horses recovering from the semi accident a few weeks ago. They've coming along nicely, and their plight would make a wonderful human interest story.”
“Horses?” The woman frowned. “What about Clara Townsend?”
Ben spoke up. “Miss Addison has told you the truth. Clara Townsend is not on the premises; however, you people are trespassing. You need to move off the property before I arrest you. You'll have to look for Mrs. Townsend elsewhere. Your information isn't correct.”
Grumbling broke out, but the press began to pack up and move out. Katie watched from the window as the final van pulled away. Behind her the television rehashed the story, repeating the same skimpy details over and over.
She reached for Ben's hand. “Thanks. You handled that well.”
He smiled, a tired effort, and squeezed her hand. “You need to get some rest.”
“Not until you do.”
“That may be awhile.”
“I'm in no hurry.” The sudden warmth she felt for this man overpowered her. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or the rush of adrenalin, or whatever, but Warren paled when she compared the two men's compassion.
“Look, there's Clara's husband on TV,” Ruth exclaimed. “What did she ever see in him?”
Katie turned in time to see Neil Townsend walking out of his Washington office, holding a newspaper to conceal his face. One persistent reporter must have gotten under his skin, because he turned and snarled, “I'll tell
you
things about Clara Townsend you don't know.”
The camera switched back to the regular newscast.
Bitter, the talking heads said. Vindictive.
The phone rang and Katie went to answer. Tottie's voice came over the line. “Is it safe to come home? I'm tired of listening to Warren and Clara carp at each other.”
“All clear. Do you want me to come get you?”
“No, let Warren bring me. Maybe a ride in fresh air would do him some good. Sweeten his disposition.”
“He needs one of your cherry pies to sweeten him up.”
“He'll not likely get one of my pies anytime soon.”
“Come on, Tottie. He's just grumpy because he moved back here for peace and quiet and has very little. Can you blame him for being testy? And you know Clara gets under his skin. He's really a nice guy.”
“I suppose I can't blame him, but I wish the man would get over whatever's eating him.”
Katie hung up, grinning at the thought of Warren and Clara cooped up together for twenty-four hours. Ben got up and reached for his hat. “I have to get back to the office. I've done all I can here. If the press return, call and let me know.”
“I will â and thanks for the help.”
“No problem.” He settled the hat on his head. “It may be the one and only time I'll ever spend the night with you.”
“Yeah?” She waved a piece of crisp bacon under his nose and jumped when he snapped it up.
He'd been a blessing last night. There was a lot of
nice
about him, characteristics she hadn't noticed. Like the way he grinned when something wasn't meant to be funny or the way his expression would turn dead serious when she'd attempted to wow him with her sparkling, spontaneous sense of humor, which he apparently didn't conceive to be spontaneous or humorous.
She had a hunch they could have been a great pair in their earlier years.
Warren phoned later, and Katie listened to his list of Clara grievances. “You've got to get rid of her, Katie. I can't stay outside day and night â though that's preferable to being with her.”
“What's she done now?”
“What hasn't she done? Taken over my house, dominates the conversation, and we don't have the same political views. I make her smoke outside in the metal shed, and she's highly ticked.”
“So don't talk politics. Change the subject and ask her to smoke in the well house. She wouldn't like that either, but it is a concrete building, and she wouldn't be visible.”
“The woman is obsessed with government. She lives, eats, and breathes it. She comes across as concerned, but let me tell you, that broad is hard as nails. She'd sell Neil Townsend down the river to save her own neck and never shed a tear.”
“Please don't call her a broad.”
“She is a broad.”
His gruff, blustery tone disturbed Katie. The whole situation had been hard on him, and she regretted that she was the primary cause of his distress. But
broad
was a disrespectful term in her opinion. The whole cauldron was her fault. If she had been able to keep Clara in line, the press might not have found her so easily.
Maybe in the end, it would all work out for the good. Clara, though probably as guilty as Neil, could now finish her campaign and go home and the shelter could return to normal. The holidays were fast approaching and Katie, for one, would be glad when this whole mess was over. Everyone would be glad. Only one good thing could be said of the invasion. Clara had certainly livened up Little Bush. This was the most excitement they'd had since the high school basketball team won the state playoffs.
Needless to say, Warren was eager for his guest to check out. “It amazes me how the press plays Neil Townsend as a crooked scoundrel and Clara as Mother Teresa.”
Katie couldn't quite picture Clara in the simple white sari Mother Teresa had adopted to identify herself with the poor. The true extent of the woman's involvement in her husband's activities might never be known, but Katie wouldn't be surprised to learn in later years that she had known and probably orchestrated much of Neil's criminal activity.
“Well, you know the media,” she said. “Anything to boost ratings.”
“You're lucky to have kept her hidden this long. It was only a matter of time before they found her.”
“Right. Look, Warren, I know she can be a headache, but can you keep her a little longer, at least until we can arrange a way to get her away from Little Bush?”
“Katie, I'll do it for you, but you do something for me. You think about closing that shelter. Everyone thinks I'm the bad guy, that I'm should be looking after your interests. The truth is I am looking after your interests. I care for you, Katie, and I care if you're in danger. Your friends can accuse me of being thoughtless and heartless, but to tell you the truth, you're all I care about. You. Not those other women. Is that a crime?”
“Of course not, and I'm flattered by your concern.”
Maybe everyone had been coming down too hard on him. He was gruff, but he was sincere in his feelings for her. He was worried about her. In spite of all his complaining, he was an old softie.
“Clara's in touch with her people. When it's safe to go, she'll be gone.”
“Can't be too soon to suit me.”
Katie grinned. With the aggravation removed, Warren would be more likely to resume what had been a tenuous but growing attraction between them.
Please, Lord. I've waited patiently for the right man, the man
you wanted me to have, and I sense Warren is that man
.
Help
me to help heal his hurts, and to show him that not all women
are devil spawns.
Though Clara Townsend must surely have reinforced his misgivings, given a chance Katie would show him how wrong he could be.
After Warren hung up, Katie checked the locks and switched off the living room lights. She'd go to bed early for a change. The past few days had sapped her energy. She looked forward to a sound night's sleep without keeping an ear tuned for intruders.
She climbed between flannel sheets, wiggling her toes in search of warmth from the hot water bottle. Peace felt so heavenly. The women had all gone to bed early, drained by the day's activity.
Thank you, God, that through your grace I was able to protect
them. Not one name had escaped from the shelter to the press
. The women were safe. She, Katie, was safe. But Warren's plea dwelled in her mind. How soon would another, then another incident come along that would frighten her and threaten the women's safety?
Close the shelter, Katie.
How can I walk away from women in need, Lord? I promised
you that I would always help whomever and whenever I could.
Close the shelter, Katie
.
Is that you, Lord, or Satan speaking?
Sometimes when she wanted something and felt agreement, it was hard to tell who was doing the talking.
She was too tired to argue. If Warren refused to help her, refused to work with her until she could pull out of the crisis, she would be forced to close.
Her eyes drifted shut. Tomorrow she would appeal to his compassionate side again, convince him that she could adapt, she could operate efficiently. Given enough time.
That was the key to her problem. Time.
During the night, Katie heard someone stirring in the house and got up to investigate. Ruth sat at the kitchen table nursing a mug of tea. She looked up when Katie approached, eyes reddened and tears dampening her cheeks. Katie took a mug from the cabinet, heated water in the microwave, and then dropped a tea bag of Sleepy Time into the cup, figuring it might help. Only when she was seated across the table from Ruth did she speak.
“Bad night?”
Ruth swiped at tears. “It's this media circus. It has me on edge.”
Katie took a sip of tea. “It will be over soon. The election is in a couple of days, and Clara will leave. You don't have to be afraid.”
Ruth wordlessly shook her head. “I'm just so apprehensive. My husband can't know where I am. He just can't.”
“And he won't.” They sat for a minute in silence. Then Ruth glanced at Katie. “Pictures of the shelter are all over the news. It's not a secret anymore. I'm afraid . . .”
“That your husband will see them and come investigate?”
Ruth nodded. “I can't go back to him, Katie. I can't.”
“You don't have to.”
“I left my daughter behind because I knew if I didn't, he'd come after me and possibly harm me and take my baby somewhere I could never find her. Right now I know where she is. As soon as I can afford a top-notch lawyer, I'll fight to get her back. But for now I can't let him know where I am. I know he would never hurt the baby, but he's vindictive, and he knows that baby is my life. He'll make sure I never see her again, and if he finds me . . .” She visibly shuddered.
“That's not necessarily true. We do have courts, and no judge in his right mind would choose Bill over you to have custody of that child. And you're forgetting about God and trusting that he has you in his sight.”
Ruth's eyes brimmed with bright tears. “What if Bill takes her and leaves the country? It happens. You know it does.”
Katie had thought of that, and she couldn't argue. It did happen â all too often, and the
media wasn't helping the odds.
“I can't guarantee anything, you know that, but the shelter has never had such an occasion.”
Ruth wiped her eyes. “But there's always a first time.”
“It's in God's hands, Ruth, and he knows what's best. Trust him.” When it came down to it, what choice did they have? Believe the worst or pray for the best.
“I do trust, Katie. I know he led me here. But now all of this has come up, and it's just not fair that we should be put in jeopardy because of Clara. She'll be reelected and leave without a backward glance, not caring if she's turned our lives upside down. The shelter is already in financial trouble, and I have nowhere else to go.”
Katie reached out and touched Ruth's hand. “This isn't a state-run shelter. It's private, and if anything happens to Candlelight, your judge will see that you're placed somewhere safe. I know Clara seems hard, but God can use anyone, even someone like Clara. We don't know how this will play out. She hasn't won the election yet, and I suspect that she's been sent here for a reason. I can't know that for certain, but I have a sense about this.” She couldn't believe that God sent trouble just to make trouble.
“You know what? This is hateful of me, but I'm not sure I want her to win.” Ruth offered a wavering smile. “We were getting along so well before she came.”
Katie grinned. “Well, she's not here now, so let's enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Ruth laughed, then sobered. “Katie? I know I said I wouldn't go back to Bill, but if it was the only way to save my daughter, I would. You know that.”
“I know. Ultimately, that's your decision, but you know what will happen. You're a smart woman.”
“I'm a woman who loves her child.” She drained her cup and got up from table. “I'd better go back to bed. Tomorrow is another day in the Candlelight soap opera. Wonder what it will bring.”
“Nothing, I pray. Just good ole peace and quiet. ”
Ruth rinsed her cup and left the room. The helicopter had gone away for the night, and a blessed silence wrapped the house. The news crews were still camped across the road, and she felt under siege. But it
would
soon be over, one way or another.