Vince sighed. “No.”
“Have you found anything out?” She sounded like she was treading on soft ground, as if she knew this was a touchy subject.
“Not yet,” Vince said. “But I’m determined to find out everything I can about my mom’s past. About my past before we moved to New York.”
“Are there any photo albums or anything she left that might help?”
“Nothing. Whatever she had she either destroyed, or she didn’t take with her when we moved.”
“You might want to stay longer then,” she ventured. “Maybe talk to some of her friends.”
“That’s out of the question, at least for now.” Vince stood up. He finally felt relaxed enough to go to bed. “I really do need to get back home. But I also want to find out everything I can. After the service, I’m going to go through the house again and collect whatever information I can find and bring it home. If I have to, I’ll hire a private detective to help me.”
“When will you get in on Sunday?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow with the flight schedule,” he said. He was on a standby call at Philadelphia on Sunday and wasn’t sure when he could leave. “You’ll pick me up?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Okay,” Vince said, getting that tingly feeling again for her. “Thanks for listening.”
“That’s what girlfriends are for, right?”
Girlfriends. “I guess so.”
“Well… we have other uses too, which I’ll be more than willing and happy to perform for you when I get you home.”
Vince laughed. “I love you, Tracy.” There. He’d said it.
“I love you, too Vince.”
“I’ll talk to you Sunday.”
“I’ll be here.”
“‘Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
He hung up the phone, his chest swelling with the sound of her voice saying I love you. Had he really told her he loved her? And had she really said she loved him, too? They had, and he’d finally crossed the line he never thought would be crossed. The line that was drawn when he proclaimed his love to Laura seven years ago, the one he’d drawn himself, declaring he would never love another woman the way he’d loved Laura. He never thought their marriage would end in her untimely death, never thought he would get over mourning her loss, never thought he would ever have the capacity to love another woman again. He wondered if his relationship with Tracy, which was the first relationship he’d had since Laura’s death, was simply a rebound, an outlet for the sexual energy that had been building up. Now they were proclaiming their love for each other and they hadn’t even slept together, much less made out. Was this all going just a bit too fast?
Vince turned off the lights and climbed into bed. He pulled the sheets over himself and lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. The night was comfortable, refreshing and still, and he thought about Laura and Tracy constantly, their images chasing him as he descended to sleep.
Chapter Six
REVEREND POWELL’S LIVING room was large and spacious. It merged into an equally large den and a roomy kitchen. It was here that the wake was held, and the congregants at the church service were in attendance. The caterers Vince hired had put out their spread while the gravesite services were commencing, and when they returned the large kitchen counter was lined with various meats for sandwiches plus all the trimmings: shredded lettuce, sliced tomatoes, slices of Swiss and jack cheese, mustard and mayonnaise, wheat and white bread. There were three different plates of chips and multiple bottles of assorted sodas, plus a large bucket of ice. Two buckets of potato salad were also present, and most of the guests filled up on that and the sandwiches. Vince scurried about, making sure everything was in order before he made himself a ham and sliced turkey sandwich and helped himself to a serving of potato salad. Then, with a fresh Coke with lots of ice, he retreated to Reverend Powell’s back porch just off the den.
He sat down on the deck, feet planted on the second step that led to the Reverend’s back yard. He set his drink down and balanced the plate in his lap while he ate. He was ravenous.
The service had gone well. It had been held in the little chapel in Reverend Powell’s home and it had been packed with members of the church and a few people from town that mom had grown friendly with. Chief Tom Hoffman had been present; so were Detectives Michaelson and Harvey. Unlike most of the services Reverend Powell presided over, this one hadn’t gone into a two-hour tirade against the ways of the world, but had focused on the virtues of the two women being honored. Vince had remained seated as various people got up and said a few words in memory of Maggie and Lillian. Vince briefly debated getting up and saying a few words, but decided not to. He was still battling with his feelings of what had happened, as well as his relationship with his mother. It was probably best to remain silent for now.
The wake was going pretty well and when it was all over he was going to help Reverend Powell clean up, then go back to his hotel room to pack for his flight the next morning. He’d used Reverend Powell’s phone in the kitchen to place a quick call to Tracy. How did the service go? she’d asked. Good, he replied. She told him she loved him again before they hung up.
Vince was almost finished with his sandwich, enjoying the late afternoon sun, when he heard the sliding glass door open behind him. “Hello, Vince,” Reverend Powell’s voice called out. “Mind if I join you?” The sliding door closed.
Vince motioned toward the space on the wide steps that led to the backyard. “Have a seat, Reverend. I was just enjoying your backyard.”
Reverend Powell hunkered down on the top step next to Vince. He was carrying a can of Pepsi. Reverend Hank Powell hadn’t changed much since the last time Vince saw him; he was a big barrel-chested man, with a square jaw and large, calloused hands. His hair had gone gray and it also appeared he’d toned down some of the hellfire-and-brimstone rhetoric of his persona. When Vince was a kid Reverend Powell seemed scrutinizing and judgmental, and to a certain extent he was. When he met with the man to arrange the services he’d felt his scrutinizing gaze on him a few times. Vince had ignored it and pressed on.
Reverend Powell had been dressed in an immaculate black suit during the service. When he sat down beside Vince on the back deck of his home, Vince saw he’d changed into more casual slacks and a cotton shirt. “Yes, it’s a nice view, isn’t it?”
“How far does your property go?”
“Not that far, actually.” Reverend Powell motioned toward a small grove of trees fifty yards ahead of them. “My property ends where those trees begin. It extends to the right where that little gully is, and to the left by my driveway. I’m fortunate enough to have the house built on this little ridge here. Gives me a nice view.”
“It does,” Vince said, taking a sip of Coke. “I bet it looks beautiful during sunsets.”
“Oh, it does. It’s very beautiful.”
There was silence for a moment as Vince finished his sandwich and Reverend Powell sat beside him, looking out at his backyard and the land beyond it. After a moment Reverend Powell said, “You and Lillian had quite a talk, I gather.”
“We did,” Vince said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He set his plate down on the porch and took a swig of coke.
“What did you talk about?”
“My mother.”
“Hmm.” Reverend Powell sounded like he expected this answer and was dwelling on it. This raised a red flag in Vince’s mind.
“Why do you ask?” Vince asked.
Reverend Powell looked at Vince with an apologetic look on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound nosy.”