And all of us have lived in Aleford since we were hatched. We have a lot of work to do.” Faith knew she was witnessing an occasion as historic as the events celebrated each Patriots’ Day. But she was tired. Someone had tried to kill her and come very close. She wanted to kiss her sleeping children.
She wanted to make love with her husband.
“Tom, let’s go home.”
“I couldn’t sleep a wink all night.” Lora and Faith were having a late lunch at Geoffrey’s on Tremont Street in the South End. When Faith considered the local options for their tête-à-tête, none had seemed suitable. A picnic at the bog, and anything reminiscent thereof, was out. So was The Minuteman Café or the inn—too public. The Fairchild kitchen meant constant interruption. And obviously, meeting at the Deanes was impossible.
Lora did have two apartments, but Faith wanted the teacher off her own turf, vulnerable, and ready to spill her guts. Geoffrey’s had great food and was close to Chandler Street. After meeting with Lora, Faith planned to visit Bridey. She felt she owed the woman an explanation, and besides, she wanted to see her again. With Nelson securely behind bars, Tom was happy to watch the kids and give his wife an afternoon out. Niki was making the bourguignon and meringues, with Pix as sous-chef. All bases were covered—a rare occurrence. Faith had driven into town, a little light-headed, and entertained a fleeting thought of keeping on going—that primal urge to run away from home that most women experience at times.
“Why, I could just keep on driving.” Lora had been waiting at the restaurant and started talking before Faith even sat down. They ordered and Lora picked up where she’d left off.
“I kept wondering whether all this would have happened if I had gone to the police in the first place, as you and Reverend Fairchild wanted me to.” The same thing had suggested itself to Faith—as soon as Detective Dunne had revealed the source of the calls.
Resisting the urge to say, “I think there’s a lesson here,” Faith settled with, “I think I understand why you didn’t want to go to the police, but the phone calls themselves were a crime and shouldn’t have been covered up. Charley would have helped you get the phone company to trace them.”
Behind her glasses, two big tears welled in Lora’s eyes. Her hair wasn’t pulled back and she did have some makeup on, but otherwise she looked like her everyday self.
“I could have saved Joey’s life. I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”
There was enough guilt in the world. Lora wasn’t a parent yet, but she had a mother. Faith couldn’t let her sit there and suffer, weeping into her grilled-vegetable sandwich.
“You should have reported the calls, but remember, you didn’t tell us about them until that Wednesday.
You went away the following weekend, which we’ll get to in a minute, and Nelson must have known that.
He didn’t make any more calls, so there would have been nothing to trace. Then Margaret’s death was Monday night, or, strictly speaking, Tuesday morning. You got a brick through your window, then moved to Gus and Lillian’s house.”
“You’re right! I never got any more calls. He must have been too nervous to call. I didn’t recognize his voice, but I’d never talked to him much, and he may have used a handkerchief. I’ve seen that on TV. I bet he thought grandfather would, though.” Or he was too busy cutting up magazines, filling balloons with chloral hydrate, attending his wife’s funeral—no idle moments for Nelson, Faith thought.
“But I still don’t get it. Why was he threatening me if he was in love with me?” Lora asked.
“It’s hard to say. Maybe somewhere deep inside, he was conflicted about his attraction to you and wanted the temptation removed? Or more likely, he hoped if you moved away, he’d be able to see you without the whole town knowing.”
“He probably doesn’t know himself. Kind of an approach-avoidance thing.” It seemed Lora was reading more than Dr. Seuss.
Faith took a bite of her southwestern chicken salad.
Lora had perked up considerably during their foray into the unconscious. Now was as good a time as any.
“Why have you been living in two apartments?” Miss Lora blushed.
“This is very embarrassing—especially because you’re one of my mothers.” Faith presumed she was referring to the preschool and not any special devotion on Lora’s part.
“I have a certain image in Aleford. ‘Miss Lora’—she’s so good with kids, never gave her parents or grandparents a moment’s worry. Will make some nice man the perfect little Betty Crocker wife someday. Sure, she’s a bit homely, but some men don’t care about those things.”
All of it was true. Each item had crossed Faith’s mind at some point or been introduced into conversation. There was no doubt—in Aleford’s collective conscious, Lora Deane was Miss Goody Two-Shoes come to life.
“I love to dance. When I went off to college, I discovered that music did something to me, released something, and I felt so free. One of my roommates was really good with makeup and clothes. She encouraged me to get contacts, but I don’t see as well with them as with my glasses. Still, well enough for a date. Well enough to dance.”
“But why the double life? Why not just be who you are all the time?”
Lora appeared to be about to go into her “give me a break” routine, but stopped. She sighed instead.
“First, I would have caught hell at home. My dad was still alive, and he was just like his father. My brothers are the same way. They all actually thought it might be a good idea for me to be a nun when I was deciding where to go to school! Then Dad died so suddenly and everybody was a mess. I couldn’t upset them then.”
“And the money? Weren’t you afraid Gus might not give it to you if he disapproved of the way you were behaving?”
Lora hesitated. She pushed a piece of eggplant that had escaped from the overstuffed sandwich around her plate with a fork.
“Well, yes, that did cross my mind.” She ate the eggplant. “Okay, I thought about it a lot and it didn’t seem fair. He never said anything when my brothers sowed their wild oats, and believe me, it was quite a crop. When I got the money, I used some of it for rent here and I really did use some for tuition. It’s true that I’m working on my master’s.”
Faith was glad to hear it. Miss Lora was so good with children.
“And no one knew about Chandler Street?”
“No. I left a letter in the box where I keep all my important papers in the Aleford apartment—in case I got hit by a car or something.”
There were so many somethings going on lately that Faith thought an explanatory letter showed foresight.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t want to keep deceiving people, especially my grandparents. But I don’t want them to get mad at me, either. My mom won’t care.
She has a whole new life and she’d probably be glad I was having one, too. She used to get a little fed up with being one of the Deanes all the time.”
“And you?”
“I’m proud of the family, but we are pretty old-fashioned.”
It was time for Miss Lora to grow up and become Ms. Lora.
“Why don’t you start by telling them you want to leave the Aleford apartment and move into the city.
Say that you found the perfect place.” Faith didn’t think Lora had to be too precise about when she had found it.