"I'm embarrassed!"
"There's no need to be. It was a very feminine reaction to a new experience. Besides, it gave me a chance to redeem myself. I proved myself your hero by carrying you to the truck and fussing over you." He smiled. "You're very cute when you're helpless."
She could have argued that the adjective cite didn't inspire much confidence in the public defender, but she didn't want to argue. His loving expression reminded her of their wedding day and made her feel warm all over. She slipped her arm through his as they were asked to stand for the invocation.
Once they got through the hymn singing, announcements, and offertory, the congregation settled in for the sermon. Ken dall had tried to beg off from attending this morning, and only in part because everybody in town knew about yesterday's disgrace. Although the Burnwoods had been members of this independent Protestant church for years, she never looked for ward to attending because she thoroughly disliked the minister.
Brother Bob Whitaker was a pleasant enough gentleman and a kind and caring pastor to his extensive flock until he got behind.the pulpit. There, he metamorphosed into a ranting, raving preacher of hellfire and brimstone. Even that didn't bother Kendall excessively. Television evangelists had almost inured the public to fiery admonitions against sin.
What bothered her was the pastor's recurring message of wrathful judgment. He quoted "an eye for an eye" so often that she wondered if it was the only scripture he had committed to memory. He had little to say of mercy and grace; a great deal to say of vengeance and reparation. He depicted God as a bloodthirsty avenger, not as the creator of love and forgiveness.
Although she was here at Matt's urging, she couldn't be forced to listen. Now that Brother Bob was well into his diatribe against transgression, she tuned him out and turned her thoughts to other matters.
She was mentally planning her week, when she happened to lock gazes with a woman seated across the aisle and one row back. She was positively stunning. Kendall assumed that the man seated next to her was her husband, but then everyone faded into the background.
She wasn't a traditional beauty, but she was certainly arresting. Her chestnut hair had been teased high on top and fell in waves below her shoulders. Her eyes, nose, and mouth were large, blending well to form a provocative, somewhat sullen face.
Beyond her striking appearance, what held Kendall's attention was the glower the woman had fixed on her. In order to see her, Kendall had had to turn her head at an awkward angle. It was as though she hadn't seen the woman accidentally, but had been drawn around by the magnetic power of her malicious stare.
Matt nudged her. "What are you looking at?"
She brought her head forward quickly. "Uh, nothing."
He reached for her hand and held it throughout the remainder of the service. Kendall wanted to turn around and see if the woman continued to stare at her, but, for some reason, she was afraid to look.
After the benediction, as they were moving up the aisle toward the exit, Kendall spotted her in the crowd. "Matt, who's that woman?" Kendall nodded in the direction of the woman. "The one in the green dress."
Before he could answer, he was distracted. "Hey, Matt."
The superintendent of schools sidled up to them and shook hands with Matt. Looking across at Kendall, he winked broadly. "Y'all have ham for breakfast this morning?" He wheezed a laugh. "How 'bout coming over one night this week for supper. Me and the wife'll barbecue us some pork ribs."
Matt and Gibb had warned her that she would be ruthlessly teased about fainting at the hog slaughtering, maybe for years to come. It was the type of incident one never lived down.
Outside, at least half the congregation lingered to chat. Ken dall was ambushed by a woman whose daughter was thinking of entering law school. They solicited her opinion on which university the girl should attend. While answering their questions, she kept an eye out for the woman in the green dress.
She also noticed that Gibb and Matt had joined a group of men, most of whom she recognized and could name. They had separated themselves from everyone else. Probably so that they could smoke, Kendall decided when she noticed that several had lit cigarettes.
"I just don't know if we could afford out-of-state tuition," the woman said in response to some of Kendall's recommendations. "I suppose she might"
"Excuse me for interrupting," Kendall said. "See that couple getting into the car across the street? She's wearing a green dress. Do you know her?"
The woman shaded her eyes and looked in the direction Kendall indicated. "Oh, that's Mr. and Mrs. Lynam." She sniffed disdainfully. "They don't attend as regular as they should. And if you ask me, they need to be here every Sunday."
Kendall wasn't interested in gossip. She had only wanted to see if the woman's name rang any bells, which it hadn't.
Yet it had been obvious from her glare that she held a grudge.
Why?
"Excuse me, again," Kendall said. "Is Mrs. Lynam by chance related to the Crooks?"
"Land sakes, no! Whatever gave you that idea?"
Thankfully, Matt those that moment to rejoin her. "Hello, Mrs. Gardner, Amy," he said. "Ready to go, sweetheart? Dad's buying our lunch at the country club buffet. If we don't hurry, the Baptists will get all the good tables. Right, ladies?" Flashing the woman and her daughter a disarming smile, he excused them and ushered Kendall away.
As they walked toward the parking lot, Kendall indicated the group of men from which Gibb was just now detaching himself. "That looks like a high-level conference of some kind. What's it about?"
"Why do you ask?"
She had posed the question in a harmless, almost teasing tone and was therefore puzzled by his defensive response. "No particular reason, Matt. I was just curious."
His taut expression relaxed into a smile. "Deacons. A special deacons' meeting has been called for tomorrow night to review the church budget."
"I see."
"Please don't pout."
"I won't. In fact, I've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on. I'll do it while you're out." Lately, she had made a concerted effort not to complain when he went out in the evenings.
Likewise, if he had to go out, he tried to come home earlier and was especially apologetic and sweet when he returned.
To thank her for her understanding, he kissed her.
They were still nuzzling when Gibb approached, his Bible tucked under his arm. "You two keep that up and the sheriff will be along to arrest you for indecency."
He spoke in jest; was smiling as he climbed into the backseat. "Let's go. The sermon went long and my stomach growled all the way through it."
Matt got behind the wheel and started the car. "Some news about Billy Joe Crook, huh, Dad?"
Kendall was instantly alert. "What news?"
"He was involved in an accident on the way to Columbia,"
Gibb told her from the backseat. She turned and looked at him. "An accident? What kind of accident? Is he all right?"
"No, Kendall. I'm afraid he's not."
Luther, gnawing on a loose cuticle, cut his eyes over to his twin. Henry's only answer to Luther's quizzical glance was a shrug that conveyed his own bewilderment.
They were jumpy. On edge. They didn't know what to make of the situation.
They had never seen their mama this still and silent. She had been like this since yesterday evening when the prison had called and told them about Billy Joe's accident.
Henry had answered the telephone. He listened, shock and ]; outrage building inside him with each official word that came through the line. "Can we see him?"
"Not just yet," he was told. "We'll get back to you."
After hanging up, he had summoned Luther outside and told him of their little brother's fate. Luther had cussed a blue streak, picked up a hatchet and buried the blade deeply into the exterior wall of the house, then spoke the words Henry dreaded most to hear: "We gotta tell Mama."
Luther had said "we," but Henry knew he meant "you."
There was no time to call one of their sisters to do it. They lived too far away. Besides, they would only go to bawling and making a racket, and that wouldn't help the situation.
He was the oldest, the man of the family. The responsibility fell to him. So he and Luther had trudged back inside, where he broke the bad news to Mama.
But she hadn't reacted as they had expected. She hadn't gone on a rampage, hadn't started yelling or squalling Or breaking stuff. She hadn't even taken a drink, not a single one. Instead, she had plopped herself down in her rocker and stared out the window, and there she still sat, almost twenty four hours later.
It was like she had petrified, and i' was beginning to get on Henry's nerves. He would rather have her carrying on than sitting there like a stump, nothing moving but her eyes when they blinked. He almost wished she would have one of her fits. He would know from experience how to deal with that.
The officials had called an hour ago and said they could see Billy Joe at five o'clock. They would have him ready by then, they said. So that presented Henry with a dilemma. He needed to see to his little brother, but he couldn't leave Mama alone.
And Luther had refused to stay with her.
"By myself?" Luther's voice had gone thin and high with fear when Henry had suggested that he stay behind with Mama. "Hell no! She's spooking me out, the way she's sittin' and starin' like that. I think she's not right in the head, is what I think. This is drove her plumb out Of her mind. Anyway, I ain't staying with her by myself."
Henry still hadn't resolved the problem, and time was running out. If he didn't arrive when they expected him, he might not get to see Billy Joe before
"Henry!"
He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Here, Mama."
Making his way across the room to her rocker, he stumbled over his own large feet. When he reached her, her eyes were focused, and he could tell right off that Luther had been wrong.
She wasn't out of her head.
"Your daddy'll turn over in his grave if we let 'em get by with this," she said.
"Damn right." Luther, looking relieved, knelt beside her chair. "No sir. No way in hell. We ain't gonna let 'em get by with this."
she hauled off and walloped him on the side of his head.
."I ain't lost my mind. Don't ever let me hear you say such again.
Tears filled Luther's colorless eyes. He massaged his ear, which would probably still be ringing this time next year.
"No. ma'am. I mean, yes, ma'am."
"What're we gonna do, Mama?" Henry asked.
As she outlined her plan, he realized that that was what she had been cooking up all the time she'd been staring out the window so strange-like.
Chapter 9
"The coffee smells good."
Kendall had been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard him come into the kitchen. At the sound of his voice, she turned. Propped on his crutches in the doorway, he was dressed, but unshaven. He looked rumpled but rested. Some color had returned to his face, and the dark circles around his eyes had faded considerably.
"Good morning." Nervously she wiped her palms on the seat of her shorts. "I was just about to come check on you.
How do you feel?"
"Better. Still not great."
"I hope Kevin didn't wake you."
"No. He's asleep in that square thing."
"Playpen. Sit down. I'll cook you some breakfast." She poured him a cup of coffee. "What would you like? Pancakes?
Eggs? French toast? I make everything except waffles."
"What have you got against waffles?"
"We don't have a waffle iron."
"Oh. Where'd the food come from? Did fairies deliver it during the night?"
"I went shopping this morning."
He seemed surprised. "I didn't hear you leave.
"You weren't supposed to."
"How far is it to the nearest town"'
"Not far."
"Did you happen to think Of newspaper?
"It's on the end table in the living room
"Thanks."
She prepared the bacon and eggs while he rested. He cleaned his plate quickly, leaving only a slice Of bacon. Want it?"
"Remember, I don't eat pork.
"Sticking to that story?"
"I don't have a story."
I think you do. I just don't know What it is yet. Why didn't you take off this morning when you had the chance?, Why hadn't she? That question had kept her preoccupied ever since her return. She had intended to leave for good after sneaking out at dawn. But the farther she got, the guiltier she felt.
She recalled each time he had moaned during the night.
He could barely walk, and his concussion was still a major concern. She wouldn't desert an invalid that was as badly injured as he. She could no more abandon him now than she could have at the scene of the accident.
This sense of responsibility for him was galling. It was a dangerous hindrance to what she had to do But she knew she would be shackled to it until his head improved and he became more self-sufficient.
It had also occurred to her that she might be safer here than on the road. That morning on her trip to town, she had felt exposed, vulnerable. If she fled, where would she go? She had no specific destination in mind only escaPe. So far she had succeeded. As long as he posed no eel threat to her overall plan, why press her luck by leaving Before she absolutely had to?
It also occurred to her that these arguments might be rationalizations because She loved this house. She felt safe here and didn't really want to leave it.