Beverly Barton - Silent Killer

“This is none of your business, Mother. This is between my son and me.”

“If you’re thinking of suing for custody, I think you should know that I will side with J.B. and Mona, and I’ll testify that I do not believe you’re stable enough to-”

“You do whatever the hell you have to do.” Cathy barely managed to control the anger inside her. “And I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Don’t argue, please,” Seth said. “Grandmother, don’t say anything to Granddad and Nana about this.”

“I think they should know what your mother has planned,” Elaine told him.

“Please don’t tell them.” When Elaine hesitated, Seth added, “If I promise not to go and talk to Mr. Floyd, will you promise not to tell Granddad?”

Elaine smiled triumphantly. “I promise. Now go on back to the living room and tell everyone that your mother and I will be along shortly.” Seth hesitated; then, without a backward glance, he left the room.

Elaine turned to Cathy. “Think about what Seth needs, not about what you need. You’ve become quite a selfish person, haven’t you? The daughter I raised never would have-”

“I’m still the daughter you raised, Mother. I’m the end product of all your years of tender, loving care. You can’t imagine how much I learned from your example. You taught me exactly what kind of mother I don’t want to be.”

Elaine gasped. “I had hoped they could help you at Haven Home, but apparently they taught you that it’s acceptable to be disrespectful to your mother. You have no idea how you disgraced me and J.B. and Mona when you pulled that stunt last year-going stark raving mad the way you did. That was bad enough, but then you had to check yourself into that place in Birmingham when you knew everyone in town would be aware of where you were. When I look at you right now, I don’t know who you are, but you are not my daughter.”

“If that’s the way you feel, I’m sorry. But I’m not going to let you and J.B. or even Mona keep Seth from me and try to turn him into a carbon copy of Mark. He’s my son, and he is his own person. I’ll fight all of you to see that he has a chance to spread his wings and soar with the eagles.”

“Soar with eagles. What are you jabbering about? You’re talking nonsense again.”

“No, Mother, I’m telling you like it is.”

Cathy turned around and walked away, leaving her mother with her mouth gaping wide open.

The house on Madison was half the size of the parsonage where Cathy had lived with Mark and Seth. The church had provided them with a modern twenty-five-hundred-square-foot home that she had decorated in a simple, traditional style. Due to Mark’s thriftiness, they had purchased inexpensive furniture, and only Cathy’s flair for decorating had kept their home from looking like an assortment of yard-sale finds. Over the years, she had used her owner’s discount at Treasures to buy a few antique items that had added a certain elegance to their home. She liked the idea of starting fresh now and being able to decorate this rental house without any input from other people, including her mother and mother-in-law. The movers had brought only the pieces of furniture she had chosen. She intended to sell the other items that were still in storage and gradually replace them with better pieces.

Ruth Ann had agreed to work at Treasures today, which she seldom did on Saturday mornings, so that Lorie could help Cathy instruct the movers and begin the grueling job of unpacking a slew of boxes. At one o’clock, Lorie had left to relieve Ruth Ann, and Cathy had taken a short lunch break, eating a pack of cheese and crackers and downing a diet cola.

After unpacking a box filled with bed linens, she carried an armload down the hall and into the kitchen, where the compact washer and dryer were stored in a small closet behind louvered doors. She put the sheets and pillowcases in the washer and laid the folded blankets and quilts on the floor to be washed later. Leaving the washer chugging away, Cathy strolled through the house, taking her time to explore each room. The twelve-hundred-square-foot house had been built in the early fifties and added on to in the mid-sixties. The exterior was a combination of dark red brick and wooden shingles that had recently been painted a muted moss green. One of the three bedrooms was tiny, only eight by nine. It would make a perfect studio/workroom for her. She could set up her drafting table and her sewing machine and add some bookcases along the back wall.

She intended to save the larger, twelve-by-twelve bedroom for Seth. The sturdy oak furniture that Lorie had helped her find through their connections with statewide antique malls and furniture outlets looked really good in there. Seth’s old bedroom furniture, a gift from J.B. and Mona, had been some of the cheapest on the market because it was made from pressed wood. She’d sell the set for little to nothing or give it away.

The other bedroom, the one at the back of the house, was ten by twelve, and the only furniture in the room was an antique four-poster bed, a walnut chifforobe and a lady’s writing table. All of the items had once graced the parsonage’s small guest room, each item purchased with the money she had earned at Treasures. This was her bedroom. She intended to paint it a pale, creamy yellow. Mark had disliked yellow, which was her favorite color, so she’d never been able to use it in her home or even wear a yellow blouse.

Just as she headed toward the kitchen, intending to unpack the pots and pans and dishes and glassware, the doorbell rang. When she entered the living room, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror she and Lorie had hung over the sofa. A few stray tendrils of hair had loosened from her ponytail, and perspiration had erased most of her makeup. But she’d been too busy to worry about her appearance.

She peered through the viewfinder in the front door, smiled, opened the door and greeted her visitor.

“Hi there,” Jack said.

“Hi,” Cathy replied. “Please come in.”

“Are you sure? I know you’re moving in today, but when I drove by, I didn’t see any other cars here, so I thought I’d stop and offer to help out.”

“In that case, most definitely come on in.” Cathy held open the door for him. As he eased past her, her breath caught in her throat.

He glanced around at the living room, which held a sofa and one chair and more than a dozen unopened boxes.

“Didn’t the Wilsons used to live here?” Jack asked.

“The Wilsons? I don’t remember them. I’m renting the house from a lady who lives in Chattanooga. Leslie McCaf-ferty.”

“She used to be Leslie Wilson,” Jack said. “I dated her a couple of times back in high school. Nice girl.”

“As I recall, you dated a lot of girls.” Cathy grinned. “I knew who you were a long time before you knew I existed.”

“I was a few years ahead of you in school and not into young, innocent girls.” Jack reached out and tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “In case no one has told you recently, you’re even prettier now than you were at seventeen.”

A flush of warmth spread through Cathy, a direct result of the compliment he’d paid her. Odd. She didn’t remember Jack being the type to flatter a girl. He had been a moody, dark soul back then, and she suspected that in many ways he still was. But she liked seeing this side of him.

“So, did you really stop by to help me?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Point me in the right direction and issue orders.”

“How about helping me unpack the kitchen stuff,” she said. “I can’t reach some of the upper cabinets without a step stool.”

“Lead the way.”

Three hours later, with the kitchen boxes unpacked and the items neatly stored, the bed linens washed, dried and put in place on the four-poster, Cathy led Jack into the small bedroom at the front of the house.