The Bishop's Wife by Harrison Mette Ivie

Author:Harrison, Mette Ivie [Harrison, Mette Ivie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Family Life, Fiction, Religious, Women Sleuths, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 1616954760
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2014-12-30T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

On the Monday after Tobias Torstensen’s funeral, the brief thaw ended and snow began to fall again. In the midst of it, Jared Helm went in to talk to the police in a formal interview. His father went with him, along with a lawyer his father had hired. To my delight, I was asked to watch Kelly while Jared and his father were gone.

It was nearly lunchtime, so I made Kelly peanut butter sandwiches and apple slices, which she ate eagerly.

“Grandpa Alex says I should eat grown-up food,” said Kelly, when I cut off the crust of her sandwiches. “He said Mommy treated me like a baby.”

How dare that man say such a thing to such a vulnerable, hurting child? “I see,” I said, trying to speak with care and not frighten her. “It sounds like your grandpa, Alex, and your mother didn’t get along very well.”

Kelly shook her head solemnly. “Mommy and Grandpa Alex used to shout at each other.”

“Did they frighten you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Daddy kept me safe.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Jared Helm was good for something, it seemed.

I got Kelly a glass of lemonade and watched her make a face each time she took a sip.

“Sour,” she said when I asked her if she didn’t like it.

“Do you want me to make you something else instead?” I asked, thinking I should have made grape juice.

She looked at me steadily. “I like sour,” she said, but she kept making the same face and shivering when she took a sip. It was adorable and a little heartbreaking, to see a little girl who seemed to think shivering like that meant she liked it.

But when I told her it was time to clean up lunch, she spilled lemonade on her shirt hurrying to drink it down. So I took her upstairs and asked her to show me what she wanted to change into. “Grandpa Alex will be mad,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“He does the laundry. He doesn’t like to do extra laundry,” she said.

“Oh, then I’ll do a load before he gets back. He’ll never know.”

She took off her shirt and opened one of her drawers. It was carefully stacked with folded shirts. Even her sock drawer, which I opened, was divided with plastic bins into white socks, dark socks, and socks with stripes. Her underwear was similarly divided. And her closet was organized by color of dresses, from yellow to red to blue and purple.

“Did Grandpa Alex arrange your closet, too?” I asked.

She nodded. “He likes things neat,” she said.

Neat was one word for it. “All right. I’m going to go put in that load of laundry. Why don’t you sit here and read a book for a few minutes, okay?” I settled her next to me on her bed with several books. At the touch of her warm body, I felt another surge of that emotion I’d felt when she played the piano with me. It felt like the whisper of the Spirit was saying, She is yours. She belongs with you.

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