Lost & Found Love Page 14

  Tabby thought of the lonely man who talked about missing the sound of his hounds hunting, the man whose large, elegant artist’s hands were capable of manipulating complicated inlay. She looked at Peter, sleeping peacefully in Evan’s arms, and shook her head. “He’s different than the man you knew even a few months ago.”

  “Leopards don’t change their spots, Tabby,” Evan commented coolly, his thick brows drawing together over eyes as stormy a gray as his father’s.

  Tabby glared back, her brows furrowing over her tawny cat eyes. “Sometimes they do. I would give an arm and a leg to have someone like him for a father rather than the man who called himself my father.”

  Jenny looked at the way Evan and Tabby had squared off to glare at each other and shook her head. “Now, now. Tabby, sit down. You had a reason for stopping by. I could see it when you came in. Something has upset you.”

  Tabby took a deep breath, glancing at Evan sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Evan. Right now, my friendship with Stoner is one of the few things going right in my life.”

  “We heard you’re having some problems with Joe,” Jenny commiserated. “Is that it?”

  “No, although I seem to be the popular one to beat up on Facebook at the moment, that’s not my main concern. I think a little girl at school is being abused at home, but I don’t think anyone will do anything about it.”

  Evan leaned forward. “Why don’t you tell us what you know?”

  When she finished, his brow was furrowed once more. “It is sketchy, but Tabby, legally you’ve done your job. Even if abuse is discovered later on, you’ve done your job and reported it to your administrator. Of course, telling us is a good backup too.”

  Tabby rubbed her face with a shaky hand. “Evan! You’re not getting it. She thinks she’s told me.” Tabby jumped up, nervously pacing the kitchen. “It has to be her mother. It has to be. Melodie must be so frightened. She might be like….” She froze with her back to them and swallowed.

  “Like you were?” Jenny interjected.

  Tabby pivoted and stared at them both. “Tommy MacVie beat me. That’s the story Mama felt was mine to tell. From the time I was six until I was twelve.”

  “Why did he quit then?” Jenny asked.

  When Tabby actually smiled slightly, Jenny and Evan looked at each other.

  “The last time he put his hands on me, it was different. Since he was still convinced I was possessed by demons, I told him Satan took care of his own and if he touched me in the way he was thinking, his penis would shrivel up and fall off.”

  Evan’s gray eyes widened. Then he guffawed. “Oh my God! And he believed you?”

  Tabby frowned at him. “Evan, you shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, and yes, he believed me.” Tabby laughed. “I prayed hard for the next week for God to forgive me for telling such a lie.”

  They talked her into staying for dinner, and as it turned out, Tabby made it, cooking eggplant Parmesan. She even allowed herself one glass of wine. It wasn’t often she could eat with family. By the time she went home, she felt much better about the entire situation. After bending down to give Katie Scarlett a scratch behind the ear, Tabby unlocked her door, still wrapped in the warmth of having a sister and brother-in-law, a family she could call her own.

  When she arrived at work the following morning, Dr. James was there at the door to greet her. One look at his face told Tabby something was wrong.

  “I need to see you in my office,” he stated. Tabby gulped, nodding her understanding. She stepped into his office and saw Mr. Underwood was there. Dr. James waved her to a seat across from him.

  “Miss MacVie,” Dr. James began. “As you’re aware, your contract contains a morals clause. A complaint has been filed that you’re in violation of that clause. A tenured teacher would have more recourse, but since you’re still in your probationary year, the school system can choose to suspend you and not renew the contract.”

  Tabby folded her hands in her lap. “What is it that I am supposed to have done, Dr. James?”

  He paused and shifted his eyes to Dennis Underwood who picked up the conversation. “I saw Pastor Joe Taylor leave your home early last Friday morning. It was obvious he had spent the night there. I thought seriously about trying to overlook it, but I discovered another incident occurred later that same day. I wanted you fired outright. We must maintain high standards for our young people.”

  Dr. James sighed. “I would prefer you be given a hearing before the school board at their next regularly scheduled meeting.” He checked his calendar. “So that’s scheduled for October sixth. You may have an attorney or your education association representative present with you. Until then, you are suspended without pay pending the results of the hearing. If the decision is made to reinstate you, Miss MacVie, then your pay will be reinstated as well.”

  Tabby gaped at them. “You’re suspending me for having a romantic relationship with Joseph?”

  Dr. James sighed. “The morals clause in contracts is an ambiguous one that is largely defined by the standards in individual communities. I’m not saying you have no grounds for an appeal. You should be ready to make that when you go before the board. For now, I will need your keys and your ID. Then I’ll escort you from the building.”

  Tabby sat still and silent, momentarily in shock, but then she looked up at Dennis Underwood. “All I wanted was to teach, Mr. Underwood. I didn’t ask to fall in love with Joseph Taylor. And quite frankly, I’m not exactly sure what it is you believe we’ve done wrong.”

  Underwood eyed her coldly. “That discussion can take place before the board.”

  Tabby shook her head in frustration. “What is the real problem here? Melodie? I didn’t ask to teach a student I feel is being abused and in imminent danger at home. The law requires me to tell you about it, and I have. You may send me away, Mr. Underwood, because the child’s father is a school board member, or because I don’t fit the image you want for your minister, but I promise you this will not go away.

  “I went straight from your office yesterday to speak with my sister, Dr. Jenny Richardson, and her husband, Evan, the commonwealth’s attorney.” She had the satisfaction of seeing Dennis Underwood flinch. Tabby stood up and stared at him. “That might be in violation of school policy, but I had to act according to my conscience. No one will do to that little girl what was done to me when I was her age. Even if it costs me everything I have, I will stand up for her because I know firsthand what she’s suffered, and standing up for her—being her advocate—is the right thing to do.”

  Tabby slapped her keys and her ID on Dr. James’s desk. “If you’re ready, Dr. James, so am I.”

  She went straight to her studio when she returned. After staring at Joseph’s portrait for several minutes, Tabby tossed a cloth over it, carried it downstairs, out the back door, and over to Joe’s house. It would be safe all the way over here if one of her moods hit. She marched back across the driveway, up her steps, and let the kitchen door slam behind her as she raced up to her studio.

  Tabby painted in a frenzy of disturbing images. This was no longer the wild, nearly subconscious painting of the past. Tabby was aware of everything she did. By early afternoon, she had finished a partial self-portrait. It was a nude of a woman seen from the back. Every scar she bore was starkly visible as she held the hand of a child who was being pulled by grasping, clawed fingers. She put her palette down, cleaned her brushes, and went down to her bedroom to change into shorts and a tank top.

  No more would she hide her scars. If she was going to stand up for children like Melodie, then she could not afford to hide what had been done to her. She would ride out to see Stoner and tell him what had happened. He would put it in perspective for her, like he had so many other things. She swung her leg over the seat of the bike and pedaled strongly out of town.

  Tabby played over and over in her mind the scene that had taken place in Dr. James’s office. She still couldn’t believe Mr. Underwoo
d was using her relationship with Joseph to boot her out on a morals clause. She recalled the night in question. Joseph had held her while she slept. He’d stayed to comfort her, and that was it. They were discreet. They were in love.

  What right did these holier than thou hypocrites have to judge them? But she knew it wasn’t totally about her relationship with Joseph. She had simply rattled the wrong cages by dressing differently, by not fitting the mold they had already pre-made for her. Why was it so hard for people to accept her? It was more than the art. They hadn’t seen it. So the only thing she could attribute their animosity to was that, different as she was, she had driven into town and snatched Pastor Joseph Taylor from beneath their noses. All Tabby had done was fall in love for the first time in her life.

  Her fury made her ride fast and hard, stretching her muscles and pushing her body until sweat soaked her. She braked slightly coming down a hill and around a curve, noticing her rear caliper grabbed unevenly. She would adjust it when she reached Richardson Homestead. These bumpier country roads meant constantly tweaking and adjusting brakes and gears on the lightweight racing bike.

  Tabby rounded the last curve and shifted, glancing down as the derailleur struggled with the gear change. When it finally completed its shift, she glanced back up, saw the large delivery truck directly in her path, and found she had time only to brake and swerve sharply to the right.

  * * * *

  Jenny snatched the phone up as soon as it rang. “Tabby?”

  “Have you talked to her today?” It was Evan checking in from the office and already in a foul temper. “The town grapevine operates faster than 4G. News of Tabby’s suspension is already everywhere, including plastered all over Facebook. It was pretty much the sole topic of conversation at Mercer’s. I swear, if I find out Dennis Underwood has leaked any of this information, I will help Tabby hand him his ass on a platter.”

  Jenny couldn’t dismiss a faint feeling of unease. Between what had been in her mother’s letter and what she had learned from Tabby, her younger sister’s life had been rough enough. How many more blows could one person be expected to handle before they simply caved in to the pressure?

  “I tried Tabby’s phone earlier,” Jenny said, “but it was busy.”

  “Keep trying her. I’ll check in at her house in a bit. First, I’m pulling a criminal record check on Mike and Missy Matthews. As accurate as Tabby was about your situation, I don’t think we can afford to sit by and do nothing about her feeling about that little girl.”

  “Thank you for believing her, Evan. She needs a support network. It’s something she’s never really had, so we have an opportunity to help Tabby as well as the Matthews.”

  Jenny finished nursing Peter and put him down for his afternoon nap. This was the time when she normally grabbed some sleep as well. Her strength was nearly back, though certainly not as quickly as Holly after Noelle’s birth, but then there was an eight-year difference in their ages. Jenny yearned to get back to work and wondered how to break the news to Evan.

  Peter would be able to come to the clinic with her, or they could find a nanny, but as the town’s primary physician, it was almost inconceivable for her to be out too much longer. Dr. Razawi was a talented, dedicated doctor, but he would need a break sooner rather than later, and he didn’t have the surgical experience Jenny had.

  * * * *

  Stoner was livid. He had ordered extremely specific, highly specialized wood from the hobby store in Roanoke. It wasn’t like he could make the trip to buy it in person. The delivery driver had come all that way, and the order was completely screwed up.

  “How could you not double check something before you started a two-hour drive? I feel like I’ve stepped into the Wizard of Oz. You should be fired for not having a brain.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Richardson. I was told it had been checked. I assumed they knew what they were doing.”

  “Damn. I hoped to finish this table this weekend.” He scowled. “Go. Take your sorry butt off my property.” Stoner knew he was overreacting, but damn it all, life was a piss pot to begin with right now, and this kind of shit made it that much worse.

  The truck driver muttered under his breath and gunned the engine unnecessarily as he careened down the driveway. Stoner saw Tabby on her bike as the delivery driver made a too wide turn back onto the state highway. Stoner bellowed and started racing down the hill from his house before he ever heard the squeal of brakes. He never even slowed down as he sprinted across the imaginary line that would trigger an alarm at the sheriff’s office. The only thing on his mind was the disaster unfolding before his eyes.

  Tabby tried to swerve, but it wasn’t soon enough. As Stoner ran, her and her bike went airborne. Even from a distance, he heard the sickening crunch of metal and bone, and helplessly watched her body-jarring slam to the pavement.

  He shouted at the driver who was already out of the cab, “Don’t just stand there, asshole, call 911!”

  Stoner tried to wipe the horror from his expression as he knelt on the road next to Tabby. Blood spurted from a gaping wound at the top of her thigh. Jesus. Her femoral artery must be torn.

  Tabby’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re off your leash….” she whispered before her head lolled to the side.

  Stoner tried to put pressure on the spurting bright red blood, but pressure alone wasn’t going to stop it. “God! Help me!” he cried hoarsely, and for perhaps the first time in his adult life, he truly meant it as the prayer it should be. Stoner pulled out his pocketknife and ruthlessly cut Tabby’s shorts out of the way. The snapped metal frame of her bike had left a gaping wound in her thigh and cut her femoral artery. It was too close to the groin to tourniquet. Jesus! He hadn’t seen an injury like this since Vietnam. Fighting his own panic, he reached into the wound, found the artery, nearly as thick as a finger, and pinched it off.

  Behind him, he heard the truck driver throw up. The man was useless as tits on a boar hog. Stoner felt a mixture of relief and horror when he heard Catherine.

  “Stoner, the sheriff’s office just called. What’s… Oh my God! Is that Tabby?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at Catherine’s deathly pale face. “Katie!” he snapped, using the name he hadn’t called her in years. “Pick up my phone. Call 911. I can’t move. She’s torn her femoral artery, and I’m pinching it shut. If I lose my grip, she’ll bleed out in minutes.”

  As he listened to Catherine make the call, her cool voice sounding only slightly agitated, he calmed. Years of marriage to him combined with years as a politician’s wife made her an absolute ice cube most of the time. And right now, that was a good thing. Stoner’s eyes focused on Tabby, examining her for any other injuries. Her cheek was grazed, and it looked like she might have a dislocated shoulder. She still wore her helmet, though it was cracked. None of her other injuries appeared critical, but what did he know?

  He knew he held her life in his hands.

  “They’re on their way, Stoner. They weren’t too far away. Ten minutes at the most,” Catherine said. “What can I do?”

  He looked at his wife. “Be ready to hold her absolutely still if she comes to. If she moves, and I lose my grip, Katie, she’s dead.”

  Chapter 10

  Joe couldn’t stand it any longer. All he was doing was spinning his wheels. While he’d stood in the river with his fly rod, he’d made his peace with God, not in catching fish, but in the simple rhythmic back and forth of casting. He’d managed to lose himself enough that he could figure a few things out.

  Now he was anxious to get back. The drive from his friend’s cabin was a tedious one, especially stuck behind a truck. As narrow and twisting as the back roads and state highways were, it was almost impossible to pass a car, let alone any larger vehicle. Joe tamped down his impatience until he turned off on Highway 8 and the truck he followed didn’t. With a smile, Joe accelerated. Not much farther now.

  It was time to make his peace with Tabby, so they could move fo
rward in their relationship. His phone call had at least reassured him she was open to that idea. Thank heaven. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she’d been hostile. Well, maybe beg.

  Joe had always been so busy brushing off overtures from within and without his congregation that his response to Tabby had turned the tables on him so completely it had knocked him off a foundation that hadn’t been quite as secure as he had so arrogantly thought. He was back on track now, though. He had his priorities in order and was ready to spend serious time doing a little old-fashioned courting.

  He wanted her to know more about him, who he was, where he came from. She’d opened up some to him, now it was time he did the same for her. He’d asked her to take him on trust without even giving her any background about himself whatsoever. That hadn’t been fair. He knew that now. So if courting her was what it took, then he would do it. And he’d be patient.

  Joe sent up a silent prayer he could actually do that.

  He would ask her again to marry him, but this time he would do it right. His proposal wouldn’t be while they were locked in an embrace on the floor. He would take her to dinner, at Mercer’s where they had first gone. Then they could go for a drive. He’d do what Jake had suggested. He would take her out publicly. He would make their courtship so public there would be no need for the gossips to go to Facebook or their phones because it would all be right there for them to see.

  The blare of an ambulance siren made him glance in his rearview mirror even as he slowed and eased the Mustang to the edge of the road. The crew shot by, and he pulled back onto the roadway. After rounding another curve along the neat fences of Richardson Homestead, he saw a panel truck in the road, along with the ambulance. Joseph pulled over and jumped out.

  His National Guard unit had spent two years in Iraq. It was one of the reasons he was already near thirty and just preaching in his first church. Seminary had been delayed. He was lucky that his unit was a medical one, so he was able to serve his country without putting some of his personal beliefs about non-violence to the test. Now, jogging up the road to the accident, Joe wondered if he would need to help. There were few enough paramedics in Castle County, and he’d lent a hand before in some emergencies.