is wonderful,” Violet said. “No wonder you like to come here.”
“The house was in bad condition when I bought the place, but I tore down the shed on the rear of the building, installed new windows and siding, and removed some partitions to make this one big room.” He motioned toward the back of the house. “There’s a small bedroom and bath in that area.”
“It’s definitely a man’s house,” she said. “Do your children like it?”
“Right now, they’re more interested in town life. I’ve brought them out a few times, but they aren’t very enthusiastic. I thought Jason might enjoy working on the farm, but he hasn’t shown much interest.” He indicated the fireplace where several logs awaited a match. “We can have a fire if you want to stay awhile. It’s cool in here.”
“I have no plans for the afternoon, just so I’m back to Maitland in time for church.”
“While I start a fire, see what you can rustle up for a snack from the refrigerator and cabinets.”
The smell of wood smoke wafted through the house while Violet looked in the cabinets. “What about cheese and crackers?” she called. “And there are soft drinks. Or do you prefer a hot beverage?”
“Heat some water for tea, please.”
Roger pulled two of the chairs close to the fire and placed a small table between them. By that time, Violet had sliced the cheese and had the water boiling. He rummaged in the cabinets until he found a plastic tray, placed the cheese and crackers and the two cups of tea on it, and carried their snack to the living area.
Violet sighed as she sank into one of the lounge chairs. She took off her shoes and leaned back. Roger removed his jacket before he sat down. “It will get hot in here before long.”
As they munched on the cheese and crackers, Violet observed the sparsely furnished room more closely, and she said, “No television?”
“Nor a telephone, either. I do have a small radio in the bedroom.”
On the mantel was a family picture—a man, woman and two small children. Violet hadn’t seen a picture of Roger’s wife, but she could see many of Misty’s features in the woman.
“Roger, why haven’t you remarried?”
“Are you proposing to me?” A mischievous twinkle sparkled in his deep eyes.
“Of course not,” she said. “I noticed the picture and that made me curious.”
“Why do you wonder?”
“Well, you’re such good company. I have the feeling you’ve been alone for a long time.”
“Ten years,” he said musingly.
“Don’t you miss sharing your life with someone? Raising two children alone couldn’t have been easy,” she added.
“At first, the pain was too deep to even consider another marriage, and I didn’t want to saddle my kids with a stepmother as young as they were. My mother lived with us until a year ago, so the children had plenty of supervision while I was at work. When Misty turned fifteen, Mother went to live with my sister in Arizona to get away from the cold, damp winters here. The idea of remarrying isn’t distasteful to me. Now that the kids are involved with all kinds of interests and activities that don’t include their Dad, I have been thinking about it.”
Violet nodded approvingly. She had seen firsthand that Roger was a good, supportive father, and he would make a caring husband.
“Now, it’s my turn to ask questions. Are you going to marry Larry Holland?”
His question startled her, but she smiled slightly. “He hasn’t asked me.”
“Maybe Olivia Holland hasn’t given her okay yet.”
“Now, Roger! Larry is a nice guy—he can’t help what his mother does.”
“I know that. So if he does ask, will you marry him?”
“I’ve often asked myself the same question. I’d be foolish to say no, wouldn’t I?”
“Probably so. He’s a good catch, or so I’m told.”
Roger continued to gaze at her, his expression relaxed, yet his gaze was somehow intense. Violet looked away. She stared into the flames, sipping on the tea until it cooled. Right now she had to make a decision more pressing than marriage.
Roger stood, stoked the fire, and took the empty cup from her hand. He carried the utensils to the kitchen, and Violet heard him washing the items and replacing them in the cabinets. When he returned to his chair, Violet said, “I’m going to take her.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “Are you happy with that decision?”
“No, not exactly happy, but maybe relieved. As a Christian, I know it’s the right choice. I can’t get the words of Jesus out of my mind, I was sick and in prison and you came to me. Aunt Ruth advises against it, saying she will care for my mother at her home. But in all good conscience, I can’t allow that. I’ll have to take her and manage the best as I can.”
“I’ll help every way I can.”
“Do you think we can keep her past a secret?”
“A lot of legal red tape will be required to transfer a paroled prisoner from one state to another, and the incident is bound to be caught by the news media. It will be better if you don’t try to hide her past. It will be a worse scandal if you conceal her background and the news leaks out gradually.”
“I’ll probably lose all of my friends.”
“Anyone who deserts you because of a tragedy like this that happened when you were a child isn’t worth having for a friend.”
“I’ve been thinking all afternoon that I probably should go talk to Pastor Tom about this.”
“A good idea. If you have your church family behind you, half the battle is won. Do you want me to go with you to see him?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then let’s close up here and go now. He should be in the church office this afternoon.”
Chapter Three
Tom Walker was a small man with a neat figure, a kindly face, and a deep voice. His hazel eyes were bright and clear. Now in his sixties, his reddish brown hair, fringed in gray, was steadily receding from his forehead. Tom’s wife had died, childless, several years ago, so Tom’s whole life was tied up in the ministry of First Community Church, which he had shepherded for ten years.
He looked up with a twinkle in his eyes when Violet and Roger entered. “Have you two come for premarital counseling?”
Violet was encouraged that he started the session on a light note, for she was able to smile and said, “Why ruin a perfect relationship by marrying your best friend?” Roger said nothing, but when Violet glanced in his direction, she was astounded to note that his face had flushed slightly.
Pastor Tom laughed. “I thought you might be following the trend today. I’ve had two couples already this afternoon. But sit down, anyway. What’s on your mind?”
The pastor’s office was equipped with roomy, padded chairs grouped around his desk. Tom was a patient man, never pushing his visitors to speak until they were ready, and the three of them sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I don’t know any easy way to say this,” Violet began, “but my mother, Linda Conley, is serving a life sentence for murder in a correctional facility in Kansas. She’s a terminal cancer patient, and Roger received a message two days ago that they want to parole her to the next of kin. That happens to be me.” The silence in the room was intense, broken only by the faint ticking of a small clock on the pastor’s desk. Once she had made the initial disclosure, Violet hurried on to reveal