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  For days they had all filled her mind until she was tired of thinking about them. Would she get a restraining order if she saw the man in leather again? Would she continue publishing her flyer with Harry? And Cutter … what about him?

  Gloria eased her foot off the gas and felt the Escort slow. Why was she thinking about them again? Why was she letting them drag her back to Appleton instead of taking flight to Eckerd? Maybe because when she had prayed about the whole thing, all Jesus had said was “Trust Me.”

  She really disliked when He said things like that. She’d rather He spelled a situation out or put it on a flowchart so she could see how it was all going to wind up. But “trust Me” was hard.

  Well, stop trying to figure it out, Gloria, and just do what He said.

  When she got right down to it, why was it so hard to trust Jesus, anyway? Hadn’t He shown her in Eckerd that He could be trusted? Yes. Over and over again. Only … her experience had also shown her that He didn’t always work out things quite as she’d like. Now, take Cutter for instance. Wouldn’t it be just like Jesus to have her end up with him? Gloria couldn’t even get her mind around that idea.

  So—it wasn’t a matter of trust, then. It was a matter of getting her own way. She still wanted that—her own way. And she hadn’t realized just how much that tendency continued to control her. When she felt her heart sink, felt her stomach churn, she turned off the radio and let the silence fill the car.

  “Jesus,” she finally said in a near-whisper, “I love You so much; I can’t bear the thought of being out of Your will. If that means my will must be altered, then do it. Have Your way in me. Only … Cutter’s not exactly the man of my dreams. I hope he’s not the one You’ve chosen for me, and if he is, could You think about it some more? Maybe reconsider? Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done.”

  Gloria felt like a pressed sandwich by the time Harry Grizwald, Dorie Dobson, and Perth finished squeezing and kissing her. Then Dorie took Gloria’s parka, and the air exploded with words as everyone started talking at once.

  “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Let’s give the girl a chance to catch her breath,” Harry said, taking Gloria by the arm and escorting her from the foyer of his apartment to the dining room. “Come sit here.” He directed her to a captain’s chair at the head of the table. “This way we can get a good look at you while giving you the third degree.”

  When Gloria sat down, Perth quickly sat next to her. “I missed you,” she mouthed.

  “Me too,” Gloria said out loud. “I’ve missed you all.”

  “I figured we’d have an early dinner.” Harry smiled sheepishly before bustling to the kitchen.

  “Harry, for heaven’s sake, it’s only eleven o’clock!” Gloria said, laughing.

  “I know,” he shouted back, “but there’s nothing like a nice meal to give us all a chance to catch up.” Harry entered, carrying a steaming dish between two raggedy oven mitts. “Now, don’t anyone burn yourself.” He set it on a trivet in front of Gloria. “It’s the hors d’oeuvres. My clam dip specialty. You spread it over the crackers.” He pointed to the small basket of Triscuits in front of Perth.

  Dorie took one and plunged it into the dip. “He’s been cooking all week. Made enough food for an army. Tell Gloria what else you’ve got in that kitchen of yours.”

  “She’ll find out soon enough.”

  When he headed back to the kitchen, Dorie leaned over. “He’s got a pot of Bolognese sauce in there big enough to choke a horse, and he’s cooking up a pound of linguine to go with it. Then he’s got a half dozen Cornish game hens—with mushroom stuffing—a Waldorf salad, julienne carrots, and butternut squash. For dessert he made a double chocolate-chip cake. I’ve never known anyone who could cook like that man. Told him flat out that was the main reason I was marrying him.” Dorie fussed with her white lace collar. “Of course, it isn’t true, but I think he believed it. He actually said it was truer than I wanted to think, but he didn’t care.” Gloria smiled, remembering Dorie’s former diet of TV dinners. “He said if that’s what it took to get me, then it was fine with him. Now, what kind of man is that? Willing to settle for a woman who’s only interested in her stomach?”

  Gloria laughed. It felt so good to be among her friends again. She looked over at Perth, who had filled out a bit and no longer looked so gangly. “So, how’s school?”

  “I have to study sooooo hard, and I take more notes than anyone in class, but … so far I’ve been acing my tests.”

  “I knew you’d do well.” Gloria’s heart swelled with pride. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  Perth nodded. She looked so sweet with her long brown hair combed back and held by an emerald green scrunchie that matched the edging on her white shirt. The top two buttons were open, and Gloria could see the small rosebud tattoo under Perth’s left collarbone, a reminder of how far she’d come.

  “And your love life? Are you still seeing—”

  “Spike number two?”

  “Wasn’t Spike the guy who ate live bait? I thought you were seeing another guy, Jud … now, what was his last name?”

  “It’s not worth remembering. Turns out he wasn’t much better than Spike. And since I’m not having any luck in that department, I’ve decided to forget romance for now and concentrate on my studies. Which is just as well, since I need so much extra time to do what others seem to breeze through.”

  Gloria picked up a Triscuit and scooped out some of Harry’s clam dip, all the while thinking how grown-up Perth seemed. Such a far cry from the skinny little girl with the toe rings who’d stolen groceries from the West Meadow Market. She popped the cracker into her mouth, feeling a fullness of soul and a contentment she’d hardly thought possible.

  It was so good to be back.

  Gloria moved in a kind of sleepy slow motion—the kind that comes after a good meal and too much of it.

  “Harry, you outdid yourself!” she said, carrying her plate full of picked-clean bones, then stacking Harry’s on top. Dorie and Perth had already cleared their dishes. “I mean, you really outdid yourself.”

  “Why go to a restaurant when you can come to Harry’s?” Dorie said with a wink. And Gloria thought, why indeed?

  She piled her plates on top of the others on the kitchen counter, then began scraping them, one by one. The afternoon had been perfect. And she still had the evening and part of the next day before she had to go home. She couldn’t believe how relaxed she felt and wondered if Cornish game hens, like turkey, contained tryptophan. Although she had had plenty of carbs too—and some scientists were now claiming carbs were responsible for making people so sleepy after a big meal, not tryptophan. But Gloria’s money was still on the game hens.

  Maybe she’d squeeze in a nap. A power nap of thirty minutes would go a long way. It would surely make her evening with Perth more enjoyable. Harry had already announced that he and Dorie were going to a movie. Gloria guessed it was to give the girls time to talk. She looked forward to some alone time with Perth. Though they weren’t related, Gloria considered Perth as dear as a younger sister.

  Yes, either a nap or a walk. One or the other, because she needed to wake up. “I’m really sleepy,” she said, stacking the scraped dishes into the sink.

  “Me too,” said Perth.

  “Now, isn’t that just the way of things,” Dorie said. “Young people today don’t have the stamina we did.” She pointed to Harry, who stood leaning quietly in the corner with a grin on his face. “Harry here has been standing behind that stove for days, and he’s not a bit tired. Are you, Harry?”

  Harry stifled a yawn and pushed himself off the wall. “Not a bit, Dorie. Strong and vigorous as a bull, if you wanna know the truth.”

  “No need to talk about bulls, Harry. I’m making a point here. And the point being that young people today are lacking something. That’s why the drugstores and whatnot are selling so many supplements. Can’t keep them on their shelves. Everyone’s on a supplement, don’t you know. You girls take v
itamins?”

  Both Gloria and Perth shook their heads.

  “Well, isn’t that just the way of things? You best be looking into some supplementation before you waste away. For now, anyway, just get out of the kitchen and go for a walk. Get yourselves some exercise. That’s what keeps me going. I take my little Cleo and Mark Anthony for a walk three, maybe four, times a day. Over a mile each time.” Dorie had taken the plate Gloria was holding and began pushing her toward the door of the kitchen. “Go on. You and Perth get out and stretch your legs. Harry and I will finish the rest of these. Right, Harry?”

  Gloria saw the grin on Harry’s face slide off like melting wax and stifled a laugh. “I can’t do that, Dorie. Harry did all the cooking. It’s only fair that Perth and I clean up.” Over Dorie’s shoulder, Gloria saw Perth nod in agreement. But Dorie only pushed harder, until Gloria found herself out of the kitchen and standing beside the dining-room table.

  “Okay, Dorie. We’ll go. But why don’t you and Harry just leave the dishes, and Perth and I will do them when we get back?”

  Harry gave Gloria a grateful smile. “Well, if you insist, Gloria, okay.”

  “Nonsense.” Dorie pushed harder, bringing Gloria almost to the front door. “You’re the guest of honor. You shouldn’t be doing anything. Now, off with you.”

  The last thing Gloria saw before she and Perth grabbed their jackets and left the apartment was Harry strapping on his white Pillsbury Doughboy—looking apron and appearing very unhappy about the prospect of washing the mountain of dishes with Dorie. The thing Dorie Dobson had yet to learn about her intended was that while Harry loved cooking, he hated the cleanup.

  When Gloria walked arm in arm with Perth out the entrance of E-Z Printing and onto Pratt Parkway, the first thing she saw was a Harley Fat Boy parked by the curb, and her heart did a flip. Don’t get carried away, Gloria. You’re in Eckerd City now. No one’s tailing you. But when she suddenly saw a man dressed all in black leather, she pulled Perth to a stop, then yanked her backward through the door. Even before the man turned and she saw his face, she knew it was the same person who had been following her all over Appleton.

  “What’s wrong?” Perth said, her eyes wide with concern. “You look … like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Gloria slammed the print shop door, stopped only long enough to flip the dead bolt, then yanked Perth toward the stairs leading to Harry’s third-floor apartment.

  “What’s going on?” Perth sounded frightened.

  “I’ll tell you when we get to Harry’s. He needs to hear this too.” Gloria took the stairs two at a time, pulling Perth behind her, all the while knowing she was just about to spoil their perfect weekend.

  Chapter Twelve

  GLORIA SAT ON THE EDGE of the queen-size bed, holding Virginia’s hand and praying silently. The woman lying propped on five pillows looked as fragile as the white filament of a dandelion, like the ones Gloria used to blow when she was a child and scatter on the wind.

  Where would the wind take Virginia Press when it was time?

  Dust to dust.

  She hoped it would be into Jesus’ arms, but so far Virginia had resisted all talk of heaven or Gloria’s wonderful Lord. And time was running out. Even her untrained eyes could see that.

  “You’re certainly quiet today.” Virginia’s voice sounded gravelly. “Must have a lot on your mind.”

  Gloria shifted her weight. She didn’t think she could cram another thing into her head. It was already filled with thoughts of the stalker and Cutter and Harry and Dorie and Perth. And now Virginia.

  Dust to dust.

  “So what’s the town saying about me?”

  “The usual. That you’re angry with Cutter.”

  To Gloria’s surprise, the frail woman chuckled. “And Cutter? What does he say?”

  “The same.”

  “You sure don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “There isn’t time.” That one got Virginia. Gloria could feel the tension in the older woman’s hand.

  “You’re rather surly.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “You want to tell me why?”

  Gloria caressed Virginia’s hand in hers. It felt like a dry leather purse, the kind her mother used to use for loose change. “I’ve been coming here twice a week for the past several weeks, and I just realized I don’t want to come anymore, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you.” She heard Virginia gasp, felt the bony hand tighten around her own.

  “Now, why would you say such a hateful thing to a dying old woman?”

  “I didn’t say it to be hateful. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded, but honestly, Virginia, you’ve got to stop using the fact that you’re dying to manipulate everyone.”

  “There’s a point you’re trying to make, I suppose.” Virginia’s birdlike chest, with its protruding collarbones and shrunken breasts, heaved in a sigh. “So hurry up and make it. Don’t stumble around like a mouse in a maze. I get enough of that from Agnes and Cutter. Well … I did from Cutter when he was a boy. Now I can’t get one civil word out of his mouth.” Virginia sank deeper into her pillows as though insulating herself. “So what’s your point?”

  “The fact is, Virginia, you won’t accept reality.”

  “You’ve tried to introduce different rules. And I told you I won’t play by them, or anyone else’s for that matter. I told you I make the rules.”

  Gloria pressed Virginia’s thin, dry hand to her lips when she saw the fear in her sharp eyes. “Then you’re going to have to play by yourself.”

  “What’s gotten you so mad? I don’t understand—”

  “I’m not mad. I just … can’t bear to see you like this. You want to pretend that everything revolves around you, that you’re still in control. And I can’t help you live that lie.” Gloria released Virginia’s hand and filled her empty glass with ice water from the pitcher on the nightstand. She handed the glass to Virginia. “You were never in control anyway. Not really. But you never figured that one out.”

  “Can’t you just let me pretend? Can’t you just indulge a dying old lady?” Virginia’s eyes misted as she waved away the glass.

  Gloria shook her head and put down the water.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I care about you.” She ran the fingers of one hand gently across the side of Virginia’s cheek, across the liver spots that dotted her face like mud splatters. “Because I can’t sit here and watch you die and not share my Jesus with you.”

  “You’re … the only one who comes to see me.” Virginia’s lips quivered. “Even your mother doesn’t come anymore, just calls on the phone. I think deep down she knows what’s happening here and is afraid. I guess death frightens everyone.” She suddenly grabbed Gloria’s hand, her sharp, bony fingers looking like the talons of an eagle clutching its prey. “You must keep coming. You can’t stop. You just couldn’t be that heartless.”

  Gloria tried to pull away and was surprised by the strength of Virginia’s grip. For a moment it almost resembled a tug of war. “This will be my last time,” Gloria said, when Virginia finally let go.

  “All right. All right, I’m scared. I admit it. You satisfied? Is that what you want to hear? I’m scared … and I don’t want to die alone. Maybe it pleases you to see the old Dragon Lady reduced to this. You might even think I deserve what I got. That I deserve to die alone. And maybe I do. But I’m fool enough not to want to, and I’m fool enough to be scared by it all. But I’m not fool enough to believe that fairy tale about how there’s a big God up there in the sky who loves me.”

  “What are you worrying about, Virginia? That someone will think you’re soft because you believe in something bigger than yourself?” Gloria bent down and kissed the older woman on the forehead.

  “You … leaving already?”

  Gloria nodded.

  “Will I see you Wednesday?”

  Gloria’s feet felt like lead as she walked toward the door. She squared her should
ers.

  “Wednesday … will I see you Wednesday?”

  “See, that’s the trouble with you, Virginia.” Gloria paused by the doorway. “You just don’t listen. I told you I won’t be here Wednesday. This is good-bye.”

  “Wait! Just wait a minute. If I … let you bring your Bible, if I let you talk about your Jesus … then will you come?”

  Gloria felt a slow, deliberate smile spread over her face like a sunrise. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” she said without turning, then walked out the door.

  Cutter sat on the darkened stoop of Gloria’s apartment, watching the blue Ford Escort pull onto the gravel. The headlights blinked off, and he watched by moonlight as the car door opened and Gloria’s shapely figure stepped slowly out onto the driveway. When he rose to his feet, he saw her step back against the car and realized he must have frightened her, coming out of the shadows like that.

  “It’s just me,” he said quickly. “It’s Cutter.” He wondered whom she’d rather see right now, the stalker or him, and decided it might be a close call. This was the first time they’d met since his rather awkward declaration of love. He thought it strange that he didn’t feel embarrassed or uptight. But he could see, by the stiff way she walked up the driveway, that she did.

  So let her.

  “Cutter … what are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.” He heard her groan. When she stopped in front of him and just stood there, he reached over and opened the screen door. “I’d like to come in.”

  “I don’t know … it’s late, and—”

  He pulled the keys from her hand and unlocked the door. With his free hand, he reached in and flicked on the light. Then he walked through the door, closing the screen and leaving Gloria outside. A few minutes later he heard the door slam, and smothered a grin. She must be mad as a hornet.