The Sweetest Thing (29 page)

“Anna will be at the Alms House forever.”

“She is well taken care of, and no one can get in and harm her. She's safe. Mrs. Clark is well aware of the situation.”

“But Parthie knows who did it!”

“Perhaps she knows, but we have no proof. And without proof, what she knows could get her killed.” She rubbed her hand on her forehead, and suddenly she seemed old. “When you told me of finding the stolen things in Holden's toolbox, I felt it would be a step toward locating the thief and setting this horrible mess to rest. But, as you know, when we looked, the things were no longer there.” She pronounced “no longer” in a tone that reassured me.

“Anna is not in danger at the Alms Houses, I assure you, Mary Dobbs. And Parthie, bless her soul, she can complain all she wants about her work, but she must keep on doing exactly that, so no one will suspect that we are still trying to find the evidence.”

I grabbed Aunt Josie in my bear hug. She patted my back, as usual, reserved in her display of affection. “I'm sorry I've been such a pest.”

“
Shh
. It's okay. Just realize this is not a penny mystery to solve. It is very serious, and grown-ups who know what they're doing are working on it. Slowly.”

“Have there been more homes with articles stolen?”

“Many.”

“Then it is most likely a group of people. A crime ring.”

Aunt Josie brought her face within inches of mine. “It is absolutely none of your business, you hear?”

This time I understood. “Yes, ma'am.”

———

Tuesday afternoon, Perri came by the Chandlers' with other Phi Pis and somehow convinced Aunt Josie that I needed company. Ten girls sat crowded on the floor in my room, jabbering about all the preparations for the Valentine's Dance. Finally Mae Pearl hushed them and said, “Well, girls, we thought it'd be good to do the Bible hour here with Mary Dobbs, since she's the one who got us started on this good habit.”

Perri stood up and leaned against the poster of the bed and said, “I have a story to tell you all.” In a wavering voice, she recounted being accosted and thinking she had heard her father's voice and seeing the man who rescued her, and then she explained how I had kept assuring her that God would provide and how I'd prayed He would show up in her life in a very personal and dramatic way that could only be Him.

The girls' posture changed as Perri spoke, from a relaxed nonchalant lounging on the floor to sitting up straight and then leaning farther forward with every phrase. When Perri got to the part about Lisa giving her that old photograph and how she had wanted to be in her father's lap more than anything else in the world, Lisa let out a little cry and Mae Pearl started sniffing, and even Macon and Brat and Peggy were dabbing their eyes.

Perri kept on talking—telling of her experience in church on Sunday—and then she said, “And girls, I've been terribly selfish and stubborn and just plain foolish, and I took out my anger on Dobbs.” She came and stood beside me and took my hand and said, “And I'm ever so sorry. I really am.”

I gave her a nod, and then she read from Matthew, chapter 6, those beautiful verses where Jesus says, “Consider the lilies,” and all the while the girls listened, enraptured.

Perri ended by sharing about Coobie's illness and the need for prayer and practical help.

I was thankful that they all considered me too weak to participate, because I had nothing to say. I listened to them as if it were a dream, and I thought about how unfair life was and the irony of being surrounded by a dozen girls whom I had considered merely floozy socialites, hearing enthusiasm in their voices as they talked about God's provision. Even Peggy seemed excited.

But now the topic left me indifferent. Almighty God would not get me back so easily, by convincing a few friends to act excited about Scripture—not even with Perri's amazing story.

As I listened to them, though, I thought of my father and the horrible grief he must harbor inside, along with anger and fear. He'd passed on deadly genes to two of his daughters, and he was being forced once again to watch one die. How in the world would my father get through this?

A momentary warmth of compassion for my father flooded through me, and I was astounded.

———

After two days in bed, I was grouchy, and I took it out on my aunt. “Whenever will Coobie make it down here? They should have tested her sooner. They should have left her in Atlanta last fall!”

“Your parents believed it was wiser to have her at home with them.”

“Well, they were wrong. Chicago winters are dangerous. Now look what has happened!”

Aunt Josie got that hard look on her face again, not angry but definitely annoyed. “Mary Dobbs, you are your father's daughter. You're going too fast. The doctors at Piedmont ran tests on Coobie when she was here last summer. The results were compared with those of the doctors in Chicago. Everyone agreed that she needn't stay in Atlanta for the fall, but rather, if her condition weakened, she would come back down south. Your parents worked it all out with me.”

“When?”

“When they were here for the revival in June. Your father and mother have been very vigilant about Coobie.” She gave her famous sigh. “Now I understand their reasoning. They knew that if you found out about Jackie, you'd start assuming things about Coobie. You're bright; you see things. And sometimes”—here she gave me a wink—“you jump to conclusions. They wanted to spare you that pain. They hoped the different treatments would cure her.”

I felt very small in my room that night. I had let myself distrust my parents and blame them for horrible things. Yet all the while, never defending themselves, they were working and planning for Coobie to get the treatment she needed. They had protected us girls so that we wouldn't carry a burden too heavy for our ages. I, most of all, remembered the suffering of Jackie. My parents had seen my deep grief, a grief that never really healed, and they wanted to protect me from projecting the same fate on Coobie. They had known what my reaction would be if I found out that Coobie had the same disease as Jackie, and my responses in Chicago proved them every bit right. Now that I knew, I feared the worst.

Perri

It distressed me greatly to see Dobbs without faith. I knew what she needed, no matter if she declared otherwise—a visit from Hank. As soon as I left the Bible hour on Tuesday, I drove to the post office and sent him a telegram.

Hank—Dobbs very down. Needs you. Can you come surprise her? Maybe take her to the Valentine's Dance? Please consider it.

Yours truly, Perri

I visited Dobbs the next afternoon but didn't breathe a word about my telegram. Instead, we talked about Spalding. Dobbs recounted her conversation with Aunt Josie—how someone was threatening her uncle and aunt, how they were protecting Anna by keeping her at the Alms Houses, and how everything seemed to point to Spalding.

With each detail Dobbs revealed, I got angrier and angrier, until finally I said, “I'll stay with Spalding. I'll call him up and apologize and go to the Valentine's Dance with him. I'll pretend I still like him, and I'll figure out a way to prove him guilty! And when that's done, I'll be rid of him forever. I can play my part, and at some point we'll catch him, and maybe other people too. I'm only too happy to help out.”

Dobbs was not convinced. “Oh no, Perri. It's dangerous. I saw it on Aunt Josie's face.”

“We need proof to stop him, and I'll get it.”

“But, Perri, you said you got downright scared when he was mad. There's no telling what he might do if he figures out you are just playing a game with him. And I bet he's working with other people.”

But somehow I didn't feel one bit afraid, just convinced of what had to be done. I didn't say it to Dobbs, but I knew something else—I had a Father now who would protect me, wherever I went.

Dobbs

On Saturday afternoon, Mother and Coobie arrived in Atlanta at Terminal Station, and Hosea drove my aunt and uncle there to meet them and take them directly to Piedmont Hospital. I wasn't allowed to see my little sister on account of my recent illness. Parthenia and Cornelius had to practically hold me down to keep me from borrowing the old Ford and driving to the hospital myself. I paced around the house like a pent-up stallion.

When Mother finally got back to my aunt and uncle's house in the late afternoon, we collapsed in each other's arms.

“Sweet Dobbs, I've been worried about you.”

“Oh, Mother, I was just a little sick. What matters is Coobie. How is she?”

Mother brushed my hair back from my forehead and took my face in her hands. “You're pale as a ghost.”

“Mother! Tell me about Coobie.”

“She's weak. The doctors will be observing her for a few days to determine if and when she can start the experimental treatment.”

The first words out of my mouth were “It'll cost a fortune!”

“God will provide. He always has, Dobbs.”

Before she left for the hospital, she turned to me with a twinkle in her eyes and said, “You have fun tonight.”

I wondered what in the world she meant. She had no idea about my date with Andrew Morrison that evening. I had not even had the courage to tell Perri. Honestly, I had thought I would have to cancel, but now I eagerly anticipated the dance—getting out of the house, seeing people, dressing up.

Perhaps because Becca had in a sense been the catalyst to my spiral of despair, she had become kinder to me and insisted I use her dresses for any of my social events. I put on a beautiful deep violet gown that was tight-fitting around the waist and scooped around my neck but cut low in the back. I fastened the pin Andrew had given me in my hair, applied my makeup carefully, and surveyed myself in the mirror. I liked what I saw.

When the doorbell rang, I rushed down the steps, thinking only of how much fun I would have dancing with Andrew Morrison that night.

Uncle Robert opened the door and said in his booming voice, “Well, if it isn't Hank Wilson! What a very pleasant surprise! I had no idea. Come on in!” He gave Hank a pat on the back and left the room.

I froze on the bottom step and felt the color drain from my face.

Hank stood dressed in Holden Singleton's perfectly tailored gray suit, holding an armful of red roses. He grinned as he held them out to me and said, “Happy Valentine's Day, my dear Dobbs! I hope I haven't shocked you too much. You've gone all white.”

Mechanically, I took the roses from him. He kissed me softly on the cheek. “You sure look beautiful.”

I stared at him, speechless. “Why are you here?”

He stepped back, gave a slight frown, and said, “Perri set it up. She didn't tell you? I guess she wanted to keep it a surprise 'til the end.” He shrugged and grinned again. “You must have suspected something because you've gotten ready.”

“No, she didn't tell me a thing. I . . . I had no idea.”

Then it registered for Hank. “You have another date, don't you?”

I swallowed hard, looked down at the gorgeous roses, which must have cost him a whole week's salary that he didn't have. I swallowed again. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His face fell, and I wanted to rush to him and hug him and hold him tight, but I just kept gripping the bouquet. “I'm sorry, Hank. I didn't know. I had no idea.”

“Perri thought you were doing so poorly that I might be able to cheer you up. I see she didn't understand the situation at all. I've embarrassed you. I'll be going.” He turned to leave.

“Wait! Hank! Don't go!” I called down the hall, “Parthie! Parthie, can you help me?”

She hurried into the foyer, saw Hank standing there, and turned her eyes down, a smile spreading across her face. “Nice ta see ya, Mista Hank.” She curtsied.

“Good to see you too, Parthenia.” But he was distracted.

I handed the flowers to Parthenia and instructed, “Please take these roses and put them in a vase.”

“Ooh, yes'm, Miz Mary Dobbs. They's bee-u-tee-ful.”

When she left, I said, “Hank, thank you for the roses. I don't know what to say.” I felt dizzy again, but not from the fever. Hank seemed miles away.

“It wasn't what I thought, was it?” he asked. “You weren't missing me. You're over me, aren't you? That's why you haven't answered my letters.”

My heart was beating so hard that even in my confusion I knew for sure I wasn't over Hank Wilson.

“I told you I was afraid of losing you in Atlanta,” he said after a moment.

I touched my forehead, which was prickling with perspiration. “Then why did you encourage me to come here, Hank? Why didn't you beg me to stay in Chicago? I would have done it, you know. For you. I would have.”

“It wasn't my right to do that. I felt God had something more for you, and if we were meant to be together, the relationship would survive.”

“Well, you've been all wrong! I'm way far from God right now and I'm far from you too. It's all been a mistake, and yet, I don't want to go back. It's all so confusing.”

“Dobbs, the story isn't over yet.”

I heard a car door close, and knew Andrew was approaching. “I can't promise you anything. I just don't know what's going on inside of me. I'm losing my mind, my faith. It's scary. But it's exciting too, to think I can act outside the realm of what I have always believed. I'm sorry for such a horrible confession.”

“I'm not sorry. You're being Dobbs—speaking your mind, running ahead with your plans and your dreams. I figure if the Good Lord wants me to catch up with you, He'll speed me up or slow you down. But I know one thing—I'm not trying it on my own.”

He held out his hand, took mine, and squeezed it softly. It actually felt like he was squeezing my heart and it was fluttering around. I longed for him to stay, or even to pick me up, sling me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carry me back to Chicago. But Hank was not one to force himself on another, no matter his convictions. I had always admired that about him.