The Secrets of Rosa Lee. Jodi Thomas

she stepped outside, the wind greeted her. Leaning over the railing, Lora let her hair shake free. Tiny bits of glass hit the broken brick walk below. She straightened, quickly wiggled out of her torn panty hose and tossed them atop a pile of windblown trash at the edge of the porch.

      As she slipped back into her shoes, Lora noticed Billy standing in the shadows behind her.

      When she turned on him, he raised both hands. “I didn’t see a thing.”

      “And?”

      “And I’m not saying a word, Whitman.”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “You got it, only slow down on the rules, I can only remember so many.”

      Six

      Micah Parker quickly found that seeing the Rogers sisters home was not an easy assignment. The pair decided they had to stop several times and let friends know they were all right. With each stop, the story, with all its frightening details, had to be told. And somehow, each time the telling took longer. Micah finally got them home long after noon. He wrote his cell-phone number on the back of an old card he found on the cluttered kitchen table and left them arguing over what to have for lunch.

      He dropped by his office, but felt restless. The shock of the morning lingered with him. A renewed reminder of how one moment could shatter all calm. The possibility that someone had meant them harm haunted the back of his mind. He didn’t buy the theory that the perpetrators were youths looking for something to break.

      The note in the drill bit made it obvious that someone wanted the house destroyed, but who? The oil company that turned in an offer, of course, but they didn’t need to frighten the committee into seeing things their way. Near as Micah could tell, everyone but Sidney thought getting money for the land was a great idea. All the company would have to do was wait a day or two to get what they wanted. Only, maybe they didn’t think they had the time to wait. But, why?

      Micah had a feeling that whoever wanted the house to fall had another reason.

      He sifted through his mail trying to think. Nothing came to mind. Signing out for the afternoon, he wrote simply hospital visit on the log. He stopped at the grocery store, an independently owned place with the shadows of HEB behind an already-fading new sign that read Clifton Creek Grocery. The produce looked limp and the meat gray, but the people were friendly. He bought milk, sandwich makings and cat food.

      “Well, Reverend?” The checker grinned knowingly as she wiggled the bag of kitten food. “You got a cat living with you now?”

      “No, just visiting,” Micah answered, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain more.

      The lady behind him in line, a once-a-month Methodist, chimed in, “My cat won’t eat that dry food unless I pour bacon grease on it.”

      Micah couldn’t conceive of a lie to thank her for sharing her knowledge, so he just smiled. The two women didn’t need him in the conversation; they continued on about their pets. Anyone passing would have thought they were talking about children and not animals. Micah couldn’t imagine getting so attached. His parents had moved around when he was growing up. Extra mouths to feed were not allowed.

      He paid out and headed for home. After putting up the groceries, he checked on Baptist. The kitten had finished off the last of his saucer of milk.

      “You’re looking better, little fellow.” Micah poured cat food in a corner of the laundry basket. “That should keep hunger away for a few hours.” The kitten jumped into the middle of the food. “Don’t waste time blessing it.” Micah laughed and wondered if he’d soon be telling stories about Baptist.

      He stood, in a hurry to leave. The house always seemed too empty, too quiet when Logan wasn’t there. He checked on Mrs. Mac. A game show blared as he opened the dividing door. She waved him away when he asked if she needed anything. He knew better than to hang around talking. She liked knowing that he would be near if she needed him, but she wasn’t one to waste time talking when her shows were on.

      Halfway to his car, his cell rang.

      “Hello.” Micah paused, then smiled. “Yes, Logan, I know it’s you. What’s up, partner?”

      Listening, he climbed into his car and started the engine. “Well, if she says it’s all right, I guess it’s okay with me. Be sure and brush your teeth and go to bed when Mrs. Reed says.”

      He waited while Logan handed the phone to Betty Reed. A minute later, Micah said, “Thanks, Betty, for offering. It was nice of you.” He drove as he listened, then answered, “Yes, I’m a little shaken up. I’m worried about Professor Dickerson. The ambulance took her to Wichita Falls. They’re running tests. In fact, I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

      Micah paused, trying not to put too much emotion in his voice. “Is it all right if I check in at eight to say good-night to Logan?” He frowned, thinking of how few times he’d been alone since Amy had died. He knew this would happen, first nights at friends’, then summer camps and overnight school trips, then college, until finally he’d be fully and truly alone.

      “Thanks again, Betty,” he managed to say as if she were doing him some kind of favor.

      Turning onto the interstate heading toward Wichita Falls, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. The hour passed, as time often did, with Micah lost in memories. Sometimes, when he could stand the pain, he pictured what his life would be like if Amy hadn’t died. They would have that second child they’d planned. She would probably be staying home like she always said she would, taking care of babies and working on her master’s degree. The house would be cluttered with her projects. She loved to grow things and always had some kind of craft going. She could knit, quilt and upholster furniture better than most of those experts on TV. Once, when they were first married, she’d painted stripes on one wall while trying to pick a color of paint and liked the job so much she painted the other three walls the same way.

      Micah blinked away tears. Gentle, loving, soft-spoken Amy. How could God let her die when he and Logan needed her so much? He knew the answer. He’d said the words often enough to grieving families. But, his heart wouldn’t listen.

      Maybe that explained why the note written in Rosa Lee’s book touched him. They were the same he’d said to Amy. I’ll love no other in this lifetime but you. If Fuller felt them as Micah had, how could the man have stood her up that midnight? Or, had Rosa Lee been the one to turn away? Had she left him waiting?

      He forced his mind to think of other things. The sheriff had said someone might have been trying to harm a member of the committee. Who? Not him. He went over the members one at a time, but he drew a blank. Not one seemed the kind of person who made enemies angry enough to endanger someone’s life.

      Pulling into the hospital parking lot, he reached into the back seat for the professor’s briefcase. Maybe, if she were awake, he could talk to her about the possibilities. If she found the book from Fuller to Rosa Lee, maybe she’d found other things. She might not even be aware of the importance of her research. Maybe a deep, dark secret lay hidden in the house, and whoever threw the drill bit was warning them to stay away.

      When he climbed from his car, the wind whirled around him, trying to lift the briefcase from his hand. The air smelled of promised rain as he darted toward the visitor doors.

      A desk nurse told him Sidney Dickerson wasn’t back from X-ray but he could wait in a small room to the left of the elevator on the CCU floor. Micah wasn’t surprised to find Lora and Billy there. Lora glanced up from her magazine when Micah walked in. Two chairs down, Billy stretched, looking as though he’d been asleep.

      “Any news?” Micah asked.

      Billy shook his head. “She’s been in there for almost five hours and nothing.”

      “One doctor came out and asked if we were family,” Lora added. “I said no. When I suggested I could call them, he said no, not until the tests are all in. I phoned the college to get a relative’s number