Last Chance for Justice Read online

  “Rachel?”

  Why did her daughter look so much taller than normal? Was it because she’d piled her long black hair on top of her head? Because she was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that revealed her suntanned legs that seemed to stretch to forever? Or just because she was standing in the kitchen, directly in front of her mother and miles from where she was supposed to be?

  Lynn frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  Rachel’s expectant smile faded only slightly. “Gee, Mom, not a very warm welcome. I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Then it was Rachel’s turn to frown. “Are you crying? You are. Oh, Mom, you’re missing Dad again, aren’t you?”

  Lynn waved away her daughter’s concern and ignored her question, instead lifting herself from her seat and crossing the small space that separated them. Wrapping her arms around her daughter, she let the flood of emotions that had assailed her since opening the letter melt away into the joy of realizing her daughter was home.

  “I didn’t expect you for another few weeks,” Lynn said, pulling back and tilting her head slightly to gaze up into her only child’s face. “What happened?”

  Rachel’s frown deepened. “Never mind why I’m home early. I’m just glad I am. It looks like you need some cheering up.” Her frown disappeared as a grin spread across her face. “And that’s one of the reasons I’m here. I know I told you I was going to stay at the college for most of the summer before moving on to something more permanent, but the temp job I was supposed to get fell through, so I decided, what’s the point? Why not come home and hang out with Mom?”

  Rachel’s green eyes sparkled, tearing at Lynn’s heart with the memory of Daniel and what she’d always called his “dancing eyes.” She blinked to rid herself of the painful reminder and tried to refocus.

  “So here I am,” Rachel announced. She shook her head. “And not a minute too soon from the look of things. Come on, let’s sit down and talk. I have an idea I’d like to run past you.”

  Her curiosity piqued, Lynn sat back down with Rachel across from her and waited. Why did people—particularly those closest to her—continue to insist on springing surprises on her, thinking she’d be pleased? Sometimes she wondered if they knew her at all.

  “Here’s the deal,” Rachel said, a conspiratorial tone teasing her delivery. “I know we both miss Dad, and I know if we stay here in this house and do nothing but think about him every day, we’ll end up sitting here at the table crying. So I was thinking . . .”

  She paused—for effect, Lynn knew, though she continued to wait silently for her daughter to finish.

  “Why not go on an adventure together?” Rachel asked. “A vacation or short trip or . . . something. Anything away from this house and everything familiar that breaks our hearts every time we look at it. What do you think, Mom? I know it’s not your style to do something so spontaneous, but . . . would you at least consider it? Please? For me?”

  Lynn’s mouth nearly dropped open. Why did she feel as if she were caught up in the midst of a conspiracy? What are You up to, God? This is just too much to be a coincidence. If Daniel were still alive, I’d think he put Rachel up to this. But You? Was this Your idea? Did You send her here? Judging by Your track record, I’d say that’s a definite possibility.

  “Mom?” Rachel leaned forward and reached across the table, taking one of Lynn’s hands in her own. “Did you hear me? What do you think? Are you up for an adventure? Something new and different? You can even pick the place—anywhere you want to go. You name it; I’ll pack and have the car loaded before you know what hit you.”

  I think I know what hit me, Lynn mused. It was a Mack truck with my name on it. Out loud she shocked herself by saying, “Actually, I think it’s a good idea, though I must admit it’s not one I’m completely comfortable with. But though I can’t explain it, I think God is behind the whole thing.”

  Rachel’s grin nearly split her face. “Mom, that’s fantastic. Awesome! So where do you want to go? Do you have any ideas, any place special in mind?”

  Lynn pressed her lips together in one last feeble attempt to regain her sanity and nix what could very well be a fiasco at best. For someone who hated surprises or change, her life seemed to be careening out of control—not to mention the fact that they didn’t exactly have a lot of extra money lying around to blow on frivolous, spur-of-the-moment activities. Thanks to wise planning on Daniel’s part, Lynn had enough to get by if she used her resources wisely. But vacations? Trips? Adventures? Not in the budget.

  Still, they did have two old houses now, didn’t they? One right here where they sat, and another much larger and even older, propped up right next to a cemetery in Bloomfield. Didn’t she owe it to her late brother, her only sibling and the last remaining member of her family of origin, to at least check out the possibilities before making a decision?

  She sighed. “Actually, yes, I do,” she said, watching her daughter’s face for a reaction. “I’d like to go back to Bloomfield. I know you didn’t know your Uncle Myron well and we haven’t even seen him since your grandmother died, but he passed away, and he left us his house. I think we should go and check it out.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened until Lynn thought they’d pop right out of her face. At last she said, “That scary old house by the cemetery? That one? He left it to us?”

  Lynn nodded.

  Rachel appeared to gather herself as she swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Uncle Myron, Mom. I know he was your only brother.”

  Lynn nodded again. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  In the questioning way she’d had since she was a little girl, Rachel raised one eyebrow and offered a crooked grin. “It would definitely be an adventure, wouldn’t it?” Before Lynn could nod yet again, Rachel laughed. “Then I say, let’s go, Mom—you, me, and Beasley. What are we waiting for? Bloomfield, here we come!”

  Chapter 2

  Lynn’s three-year-old cream-colored Toyota Corolla had scarcely 15,000 miles on it—most of those logged before Daniel died. The 400-mile trip to Bloomfield was the longest drive Lynn had ever made in the sensible, economical car, and she imagined the trip back home when they’d finished up their business in her old hometown would be her last such lengthy journey. After all, she lived within five miles of her favorite grocery and drug store, shopping mall, and beauty shop, so where else did she need to go? Even her doctor’s office and the hospital were less than ten minutes away, so she imagined herself driving her current car right up until she passed on to glory and no longer needed it.

  I could probably even leave it to Rachel after that, she mused, peering at her daughter who had insisted on driving most of the way on their trip to Bloomfield. Her black hair once again piled on top of her head, the twenty-two-year-old beauty hummed along with the song blaring forth from the golden-oldies station. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, keeping her eyes straight ahead as she focused on the road.

  Lynn smiled. No doubt the old Toyota will still be running even then, she told herself, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting it at that point, especially Rachel.

  They’d parked Rachel’s old beater, a multicolored twenty-year-old Honda Civic that had logged more miles than any ten normal cars, in the garage before leaving, loaded a couple of suitcases in the Toyota’s trunk and Beasley in the backseat, and headed out first thing the previous morning. With one stop at a decent but inexpensive motel overnight, they now neared their destination and planned to be there in time for lunch. Rachel had already expressed her desire to stop at the one barbecue place in town, and Lynn had agreed, but as the car purred down the winding, two-lane road, through the green hills that so far hid their destination from sight, her stomach clenched and the desire for food eluded her.

  Why did coming back to Bloomfield make her tense up? She’d loved growing up there and had such fond memori
es of the little town and its friendly residents—until right before she’d married Daniel, of course. At the age of eighteen, she’d left with what she imagined to be speculative gossip ringing in her ears, tainting her otherwise pleasant memories of her hometown.

  Maybe that’s the problem, she thought. It’s all about memories—good, bad, or otherwise. The past. Everyone in my family is gone now. There’s no one here to welcome us home, no one I’m really close to anymore. Have I made a terrible mistake by coming here?

  Lynn shook her head and turned to look out the passenger side window. Colorful splashes of wildflowers brought the verdant hillsides to life, and she couldn’t help but think of the many summers she’d spent as a child in this idyllic setting. For the first time since her mother died, she wondered if she should have made more of an effort to stay in touch with some of the Bloomfield residents she’d grown up with, people who had known and loved her family, despite what they might have thought of Lynn’s impulsive decision.

  It wasn’t because they didn’t approve of my decision, she told herself. I didn’t bother to stay in touch because I was so happy with Daniel. We had our own life, our own family, and somehow I thought it would always be that way. Even with Rachel off at college, I had my husband, our church, our friends. She sighed. Everything’s different now. Our home is so empty without Daniel there, but would it be any better in Bloomfield?

  “You okay, Mom?”

  Lynn blinked and turned her head toward her daughter. “Did you say something, honey?”

  Rachel’s brow creased before she looked back at the road. “I asked if you’re okay. I heard you sigh.”

  Lynn smiled. Nothing much got past Rachel. She might have her father’s looks and zest for adventure, but the two Myers women were close. Lynn would have to be careful not to let her apprehension and insecurities put a damper on Rachel’s enthusiasm over their adventure.

  “I’m fine,” she said, using her most reassuring tone. “Really. It’s just . . . well, I haven’t been home in awhile. Not since your grandma died.”

  Rachel nodded. “So . . . you still think of Bloomfield as home?”

  Lynn raised her eyebrows. Bloomfield? Home? No, not really, but hadn’t she just said that? Home was where she’d lived with Daniel. Bloomfield was simply the town where she’d grown up. Why would she call it home?

  “I . . . I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but . . .”

  Rachel flashed a quick smile and turned down the volume on the radio. “It’s okay, Mom. I imagine we always think of the place we grew up as home, even when our family’s not there anymore. It doesn’t take away from what you had with Dad. Where the three of us lived together while I was growing up will always be my home, even when I move on and have my own family and life somewhere else.” She shrugged. “That’s just the way it is, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.”

  Lynn turned back to gaze out the window, only to spot the bright green Welcome to Bloomfield sign up ahead. “Stop,” she said, wondering why she made such a request. “I want to see the sign.”

  Without question, Rachel slowed and pulled to the side of the road. Wordlessly, Lynn opened the door and stepped out into the noonday sunshine. One lone pickup truck rattled past as she walked forward and stood in front of the sign, admiring the multicolored flowers that topped the large, rectangular welcome that proclaimed Bloomfield as Home of the Annual Spring Fling Festival and populated by 9,978 people.

  Lynn squinted through her sunglasses, smiling in spite of herself at the memory of the Spring Fling and how much the annual event had meant to her mother. She was so active in the garden club, Lynn thought. And why not? Mom could grow anything, anywhere. Not like me. Her eyes moved then to the population figure, and she couldn’t help but wonder if her brother’s death had lowered it by one. Surely someone’s had a baby to offset it by now, she thought, wondering who kept track of such things and how often they updated the sign.

  She sensed her daughter’s presence before she felt her hand around her waist. “We’re here,” Rachel said.

  Lynn nodded. Yes, they were. They were here, back in Bloomfield. Such a quaint, quiet little town. And they would be here only for a short time. So why did she feel as if everything familiar was about to be turned upside down?

  She swallowed and looked up at her daughter, who also seemed to study the Bloomfield sign. “I’m ready if you are,” Lynn said.

  Rachel smiled down at her. “Maybe we should let poor Beasley out to run a few minutes before we head into town for lunch.”

  Lynn nodded. The faithful spaniel had endured a lot more hours in the car than he was used to and would no doubt appreciate a quick romp. She watched Rachel return to the vehicle, open the back door, and let the grateful dog out. As he hurried into the grass beside the road, with Rachel at his heels, Lynn shot up a prayer for whatever adventures lay ahead. Though she had no idea what those adventures might be, she could relax in the care of the One who did.

  Rachel made sure Beasley had been fed and watered and relieved himself before loading him back inside the car. Then Rachel and Lynn climbed into the front seat and off they went, slowing down to observe the 25 miles-per-hour speed limit as they cruised Main Street and headed for the barbecue place at the far end of town.

  Bert’s Barbecue was one of Rachel’s favorite memories of her few visits to Bloomfield. According to her mother, the eatery had been around forever, though no one seemed to know where the restaurant had gotten its name. Lynn said she’d asked her dad more than once, since there was nowhere he liked to eat more than Bert’s, but even he hadn’t known.

  “That was before my time,” he’d explained, though Lynn’s childlike mind had grappled with the concept of time before her parents. Rachel smiled; she could certainly relate to that. She also remembered her mother explaining that Myron had been her parents’ only child for fifteen years until Lynn came along—“the best surprise ever,” her father often proclaimed—but it meant Lynn’s parents were older than most of her friends’ mothers and fathers. In grammar school, Lynn said it had been difficult even to conceive of a Bloomfield before her parents’ time. And if Bert’s Barbecue had been there, serving up their delicious pulled pork sandwiches and baby back ribs from the little hole-in-the-wall establishment at the end of Main Street, then Bert must have been so ancient that it was no wonder no one remembered him.

  Rachel nearly chuckled at the memory of her mother relating that story. “I no longer use the word ‘ancient’ to describe people in their fifties or sixties, or even seventies, the way I used to,” she’d announced. “But I suppose it’s all relative and just becomes more so as the years roll by.”

  As far as Rachel was concerned, her mother was still young and vibrant, though her recent weariness concerned her. Rachel hoped their visit to Bloomfield would perk her mom up a bit and help her start resolving her grief issues.

  As they continued down Main Street, Rachel couldn’t help but wonder if the sights were evoking a bit of nostalgia for her mother.

  “So, Mom,” she ventured, “what do you think? Has Bloomfield changed at all?”

  Lynn turned toward her daughter, and Rachel thought she detected a hint of tears in her eyes, though she couldn’t be sure.

  “Change?” Lynn said, a thin smile teasing her lips. “Somehow the word just doesn’t work in tandem with Bloomfield, does it? I mean, look over there.” She pointed, and Rachel snuck a peek before looking back at the road. “The bank where my parents did business is still in the same spot, with the same sign out front and the same guard sitting on a bench in the shade.” Lynn paused. “No, wait. It’s definitely the same guard—Clyde Something-or-Other—but he has changed. He’s still dozing on the job like he always did, but he has a paunch now. See? The buttons on his uniform are stretched to the max.” She chuckled. “I remember him as being tall and rather well-built, ev
en somewhat imposing. Of course, I was a child then. Now I wonder if he’d even notice someone walking right past him wearing a ski mask and carrying a sawed-off shotgun, looking to rob the place.”

  Rachel laughed out loud. “Really, Mom, when has anything like that ever happened in Bloomfield? Then again, maybe that’s the heart of Bloomfield’s unchanging charm, right?”

  “Unchanging.” Lynn repeated the word as if it evoked memories of the past and ponderings for the future. Rachel imagined it did, at least for her mother. After all, the town and its charm might not change, but people did. The bank guard had grown older and heavier during her mother’s absence—as had Lynn and everyone Lynn knew from her childhood and even her last visits before her mother died. Time marched on . . . even in Bloomfield. Perhaps those were the very thoughts parading through her mother’s mind right now.

  At last, Rachel spotted the barbecue joint where her mother had introduced her to some of the best food she’d ever tasted. From the first time her parents had brought her to Bloomfield to visit her grandparents, Rachel had fallen in love with Bert’s and insisted on eating there at least once on each of their rare return visits. Today would be no different.

  Pulling into the dirt-and-gravel parking lot, Rachel maneuvered the Corolla into a cool, shady spot and cracked the windows for the now-snoozing Beasley. Both women knew he’d be fine while they went inside to eat.

  The welcome bell tinkled as Rachel pulled open the door and held it for her mother. She noticed her mom take a deep breath and hesitate before she stepped inside, and Rachel shot up a silent prayer that their meal would be a pleasant one for both of them.

  The smoky, sweet aromas assailed her nostrils and revved up her appetite meter, causing her mouth to water. The buzz of conversation didn’t stop completely upon their entry, but Rachel was certain it dropped a few decibels as she and her mother removed their sunglasses and allowed their eyes to adjust. Rachel spotted a couple of empty stools at the counter, but instead aimed for the one vacant booth toward the back of the tiny room, knowing that’s what her mom would prefer. She imagined it was unusual to find any available seats at Bert’s at all, particularly during lunchtime, so she didn’t want to hesitate and risk losing the one table that looked inviting.