Words Unspoken (18 page)

“I’m sure they will be perfect, dear.”

The stairway was narrow too. Brian carried one of the suitcases up without much problem, but Katy Lynn accidentally knocked a framed picture off the wall as she climbed the stairs. It crashed to the floor and the glass shattered.

“It’s no big deal,” Janelle called quickly from below with a nervous laugh.

Sandy’s room was about the size of Gina’s walk-in closet. Never mind. The room was clean and Janelle had stenciled cute little teddy bears all around the wall. Some things never changed. Her little sister had always loved teddy bears.

“What a nice room, dear,” she said to Sandy, who was peering up at her with round, inquisitive blue eyes. “Thanks so much for sharing it with me.”

She really couldn’t imagine why Brian and Janelle didn’t have a guest room, with all the people coming in and out. But this would do. It would have to do.

They didn’t have a tub either, just a shower, and a claustrophobic one at that. Katy Lynn kept bumping her elbows on the handle, which caused the water to turn scalding until she could fumble with it and adjust the temperature again. Still, the hot water felt good, invigorating.

She put on a lightweight sundress and felt revived enough to join the family downstairs for lunch.

The conversation lagged a little, but the kids always seemed to have another question to fill in the pauses.

“How is Gina? And Uncle Hamilton?”

She breezed through that one with “Working like a maniac, as usual.”

Near the end of the meal, Katy Lynn announced, “Well, it’s good to be here! Thank you for letting me barge in on you all.” She flashed her smile and said, “And I’ve brought a few treats for the kids. Let’s see, Luke. Here you go.” She reached down and picked up a small wrapped present. “Gina said a nine-year-old boy could use one of these.”

Luke tore off the paper and his eyes grew wide. “A Walkman! Man! Wow! Thanks, Aunt Katy!” Then he looked cautiously over at his parents. “Can I keep it?”

Brian gave a half smile. “That’s fine, son. We’ll talk about it later.”

Sandy opened a box to find a doll almost half her size, and squealed, “Aunt Katy! She’s beautiful!”

Well, good.
At least she’d picked the right gifts. Janelle’s eyes even filled briefly when she opened hers: a set of six white linen place mats and napkins and six exquisite Limoges napkin rings. She might be living like a pauper in France, but Janelle appreciated the finer things of life, of that Katy Lynn was sure.

“I’ll be taking the kids back to school in a few minutes,” Janelle said, glancing at her watch. “And they don’t get out until four thirty.”

“That makes for a long day, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. But they do have this break between noon and two. Anyway, I know you must be exhausted, Katy, with the flight and the heat. I have a few women coming over for a prayer meeting at two thirty. You’re welcome to stay down with us if you’d like, but if you’d rather read or take a nap, please feel free.”

That announcement caught Katy Lynn off guard. A prayer meeting! “Yes, well …” She cleared her throat. “I’ll just meet your friends and then go upstairs.”

Three of Janelle’s friends wore veils. They were
Arab
women. The other two must have been French. In any case, none of them spoke English.

Hamilton had been right about Janelle and Brian. “They have no business meddling with the beliefs of the Arabs,” he’d said. “Trying to convert the Muslims to Christianity!”

If they asked her opinion, Katy Lynn would tell them they were playing with fire. Fire!

She certainly had no interest in a prayer meeting and a Bible study. But to be polite, she stayed until all five women had come inside and she had greeted them just as Janelle showed her, with a kiss on each cheek. She even stayed long enough to drink some awful sugary-sweet mint tea. Then she excused herself to find refuge upstairs.

Later, as she helped Janelle prepare dinner, she asked, “Why do your friends wear the veil?”

“Their families are practicing Muslims, and most don’t even know that they have converted to Christianity. It’s for safety.”

“Safety?”

“People have been ostracized from families and even killed for converting. It is a serious matter. Terribly serious.”

“And these women
want
to study the Bible and pray—in spite of the danger?”

“In spite of the danger, yes.”

“I find that … fascinating. Simply fascinating, Janelle.” In truth, she found it
incomprehensible
or
insane
. Or maybe
fanatical
. She’d never really thought too much about what Brian and Janelle were doing in

France, but being with them again brought it all back. They were just plain strange.

As soon as possible, she needed to check out the hotels around here. Surely the hotels had air-conditioning. She simply couldn’t survive for two weeks in this little broiler house. She wouldn’t hurt their feelings. Obviously, they barely had room for the four of them. She’d simply suggest after a few days that she was moving to a hotel so as not to impose on their hospitality.

Before turning in for the night, she made a quick call to Gina, promising to leave cash for the call when she saw Janelle’s darting glance at Brian. She felt a tiny irritation. Goodness! Such penny pinchers. Anyway, she knew that overseas phone calls were expensive and would not talk long.

“I got here fine, Gina. All is just perfect,” she assured her daughter.

“Have you been to the beach yet?”

“Not yet, but probably tomorrow.”

“Cool.”

Cool it was not.
Katy Lynn brushed the hair that was sticking to her brow out of her face. “Talk to you soon, sweetie. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom. Have fun.”

CHAPTER TEN

MONDAY, OCTOBER 5

The letter arrived at ten a.m., a lightweight blue rectangle, folded and sealed in such a way that Ev had to find his pocketknife to slit it open. He didn’t mind a bit. It had been over three weeks, and he and Annie always worried, especially at this time of the year. He had heard the lethargy in her voice during their last phone conversation.

He cut open the aerogram and read it out on the porch with Annie hovering over his shoulder.

“She doesn’t sound so good, does she?” he said at last.

“No. Homesick. Depressed.”

“Missing Josh. Going crazy missing Josh.” Ev’s voice cracked the slightest bit.

Annie joined him on the front porch swing.

“I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts about Tate and Lissa, I’ve neglected my prayers a bit for Janelle and Brian and the kids. I’ve prayed. I just haven’t—”

“You haven’t let yourself hurt for them, Mr. MacAllister. And your daughter would be happy to hear it. She doesn’t want her father having a heart attack from grief. She needs you. We all do. Not that you haven’t been hurting over other things.”

“How can we help them, Annie? Money’s always so tight for them. Could we send a little more this month? Brian’s weighted down with those financial worries in the mission… .”

Annie took his hand. “Ev MacAllister, my boyfriend used to say, ‘There is no use worrying, Annie, dear. God doesn’t want us to rescue our children. He’s the Rescuer. There are two things we need to do right now. Trust and pray.’ ”

He put his arm around her shoulder, pulled her close, and nodded. “Your boyfriend, for all his faults, had some things right.”

Then, together, they poured out their hearts in a prayer of thanksgiving and supplication to their unseen God.

________

The offices of Youngblood Publishers took up three floors, the nineteenth through the twenty-first, in the First National Bank Building at Five Points, directly across from the Commerce Club, where all the big deals in Atlanta were made. Walking onto the nineteenth floor, Ted calculated their assets, their profits, by observing the size of the offices, the furnishings, the overall appearance. Youngblood Publishers, though rather small, had an impressive reputation, always managing to put out several books a year that hit the
New York Times
bestseller list.

He recalled Jerry Steinman’s words: “Edmond’s a good man, Ted. He’s made Youngblood what it is today. Thirty years of hard work with a shrewd business sense. I’ve always enjoyed working with him.”

The secretary, a middle-aged woman with bright eyes, directed Ted to Edmond Clouse’s office. “He’s expecting you. You may go on in, Mr. Draper.” She rapped lightly on the door, stuck her head in, and whispered, “Mr. Draper is here,” then motioned with her eyes for Ted to enter.

Not bad,
Ted thought to himself.
A coveted corner office that measures at least two hundred square feet, with windows on both walls giving a nice view of the Atlanta skyline.

Even though he had done his homework, Ted was taken aback when the publisher stood up; he was at least six-foot-three. Edmond Clouse had the reputation of a formidable man—big in stature as well as in publishing status, serious, overpowering, eager to get his way, in control.

Ted was used to sizing up his clients quickly. Edmond, although not a typical client, was nevertheless a man he needed to understand. They needed to understand each other.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Clouse.”

“Edmond, please.” The publisher held out his big hand and gave a hard shake. “Jerry and I have shared a very warm working relationship for thirty years. Sorry to hear he’s retiring, but he has utmost confidence in you.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a seat,” Edmond said, motioning to a comfortable armchair. He launched into business, just as Jerry had assured Ted he would do. “So you’ve met Miss Green?”

“Yes, last week.” Ted lifted his eyebrows. “She’s quite a … an interesting lady.”

Edmond leaned back and laughed loudly. “Indeed. Quite a woman. Thanks for coming over today, Ted. I called this little meeting because I need to be sure we’re on track with her money. She can be hawkish and, excuse the pun, I don’t want to ruffle her feathers.”

He laid out several papers on the desk and began explaining his strategy for Miss Green’s novel. “You need to be aware of our time crunch. Miss Green is not all that happy with my game plan. It’s a real stretch to get the book out for Christmas, but I’ve got the staff to make it happen. In general, we don’t market books right at Christmastime, so that gives us a little leeway to put all our eggs into this basket. I’ll admit it’s a bit of a risk, but I think it’ll pay off in big earnings for Miss Green and the publisher … and you.”

“I know all about risks, Edmond. I think your plan sounds shrewd.”

“I hope so. I’ve been communicating with Miss Green, and she agrees to have the edits back to me by mid-October. As usual, there’s not a lot to be done. Her manuscripts are clean. Brilliant. Have you ever read one of her novels?”

“No, no, I must admit I haven’t.”

“Well, you should. Get Leah to give you copies. They’ll help you get a handle on Miss Green.” He picked up an envelope and handed it to Ted. “The advance.”

“Ah, this goes directly to me? Does Miss Green even see the check?”

“She gets the receipt—already mailed out. She doesn’t want the money to go through too many hands. Always preferred I send the advance and royalties directly to Jerry.”

“I’m not very savvy on book deals, but I’ve read up a little. Usually the advance comes in two to three payments, right? The first when the contract is signed, the second when you receive the manuscript, and the third when the book is published.”

“Typically, yes. But of course, Miss Green is anything but typical. She always signs a contract with us after the latest novel is released, stating that the next book comes to us. But she doesn’t want any advance until she sends us the manuscript. She doesn’t want the pressure. So we give her the advance all at once—when I’ve read the manuscript. And we settled a long time ago on the amount. When she turns in the manuscript she gets three hundred thousand.”

Ted whistled. “Not bad. You must have a lot of confidence in this novel.”

“She’s never let us down. This one is a gem. The reviewers will love it. I’ve already heard back from
PW
.”

“PW?”

“
Publishers Weekly
. They usually take three months to review a book. Try three days with this little beauty.”

Confident, that was Edmond Clouse, with his thinning gray hair and broad shoulders and affable smile and steel gray eyes that held wisdom and intelligence.

“This thing is going to fly, and you need to be ready, Ted.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“I’m sure Jerry has filled you in. Stella is protective, hypersensitive, paranoid. You’ll get a call from her every few days once the book is out.”

“Why me? I don’t have anything to do until she gets those royalty checks—twice a year, right?”

“Wrong. I’ll keep you up on the sales figures, and you are to keep an eye on her foundation. Protect it. Make sure she is reassured. Do a little investing. A little, mind you, not a lot. The best way to get on her good side is to show Miss Green that you know everything about her account, you watch it daily, and there is nothing she needs to worry about on that end.”