Payne & Misery Read online

  I piled my hair in a big clip and stepped back to survey the results.

  Roy and Hoppy watched from the edge of the bathtub with inscrutable cat expressions. I faced them and smiled, but their visages remained unchanged. “Well, I’m afraid that’s as good as it gets.”

  After pouring a cup of decaf, I settled on the back deck with a book and the portable phone. The cats followed. Molly trailed behind and flopped at my feet, stretching out in the sun. Roy continued to the yard to explore, but Hoppy rubbed against my calves, demanding attention. I picked him up and curled him into my lap so I could stroke his soft black-and-white head and scratch his ears.

  Every now and then, I glanced across the pasture at the Paynes’ house. Did Zora Jane stand at her window watching too? I’d grown most fond of Zora Jane. Dependable and full of compassion, she quickly endeared herself despite her straight talk and pushiness. When I first met her, I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to handle that.

  As the self-appointed representative for the welcome wagon in our neighborhood, Zora Jane had arrived at my doorstep a few days after we moved in, before we hooked up the automatic gate to keep uninvited strangers out. When I opened the door, I blinked at the blast of color. Tall and svelte, Zora Jane’s reddish-brown hair curled around a heart-shaped face. Her tunic-length blouse exploded with bright red, orange, and yellow flowers amid lime green leaves. Skin-hugging lime capri pants drew the eye down well-shaped legs to matching lime green sandals with red-painted toenails peeking out.

  She pointed to a small brass plaque engraved with the words, Welcome in the name of Christ. “Did you put this on the door?”

  A sob caught in my throat. “Oh … yes. That’s a going-away gift from a dear friend.” I never wanted to retire to Grass Valley. Leaving our son, two daughters, and four grandchildren in southern California ripped an irreparable hole in my heart. Not to mention the pain of being so far from my friends. The move had been entirely Jesse’s idea. He decided, and as usual when he makes up his mind, no argument could dissuade him. He wanted to get away from traffic. He wanted room for his horses. He didn’t care how much I suffered, leaving everyone dear to me. But I didn’t need to share all that with this flashy person, whoever she might be.

  The woman clasped her hands. “Praise the Lord! I’ve been praying for Christians to buy this house ever since the McCarthys said they were selling.”

  Oh no. A Jesus freak. “Really?”

  “Welcome! I’m your neighbor, Zora Jane Callahan.” She smiled, extending a plateful of chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies. The appetizing aroma told me the cookies weren’t long from the oven.

  Chocolate should never be denied. “Thank you.”

  She paused, looking past me through the open door.

  Is she waiting for an invitation to come in? I suppose I must. She brought cookies. “Won’t you come in?”

  When she drifted through the entry hall, a cloud of flowery perfume enveloped me, mixing with the cookie smell in a way that reminded me of my mother. Still, how chummy did I want to get with someone who peppered her conversations with praise the Lord?

  She seemed to know how to navigate around our house already, marching straight through the living room. I followed, an uneasy feeling rumbling in my stomach as if a runaway bus barreled toward my kitchen. She stood a moment beside the island, staring at the piles of still-unopened moving boxes.

  I summoned my manners. “Would you like coffee? I can make a new pot. Decaf if you prefer.”

  With the grace of a princess, she settled at the kitchen table. “That would be a slice of heaven.”

  Who asked her to sit? I frowned and bit my lip. I shouldn’t have offered coffee. Now she’d just stay longer.

  However, by the time we were both seated at the table, chatting about our children and grandchildren, I relaxed about her ulterior agenda. I missed my family a great deal. Southern California might as well be halfway around the world for as often as I got to see them. She even blessed me by exclaiming over pictures of my extraordinarily beautiful grandchildren, demonstrating exquisite taste.

  Looking into her sparkly green eyes, I saw that Zora Jane loved people almost as much as she loved God. Warmth crackled around her like fireworks. She wanted everyone to love Jesus just as much as she did.

  She had leaned toward me, laying a hand on my arm. “Tell me, my dear, have you found a church home yet?”

  6

  CHAPTER SIX

  A cat-snore from Hoppy interrupted my musing. I glanced up to see the white pickup backing out. Lumpish as a slug, the engine coughed and sputtered objections. A peek at my watch made me think of what TV’s Detective Columbo says, “People don’t usually forget to do that which they usually do.”

  Just before eleven. Yep. He followed his usual pattern, all right.

  Zora Jane answered the phone after the first ring. “I’ve been watching out the window.”

  An exuberant giggle tried to escape, but I squashed it. “I’ve been sitting on the deck all morning, worried that today of all days he might decide to stay home.”

  “Well … let’s get going then. I’ll meet you at the street.”

  I dashed to the Jeep.

  When I pulled into her driveway, Zora Jane jumped into the car dressed in a metallic gold jogging suit with a neon-green-and-gold striped shell sparkling underneath the jacket. She looked as appetizing as the peanut butter chocolate-chip cookies in her lap.

  Grinning like conspirators out to play a prank on schoolmates, we drove the short distance to the Paynes’ house. We stood together on the leaf-strewn porch, me in newly laundered sneakers and Zora Jane in gold flats with pointy toes. Quick, firm raps on the door announced my impatience. When the door creaked open this time, a tiny smile of recognition surfaced in Lila’s blue eyes, although it seemed unable to continue all the way to her lips.

  Lila wore the same dirty, mismatched outfit as on my previous visit. If possible, her stringy gray-blond hair seemed even more disheveled. She blinked several times as she took in her visitors.

  “Good morning!” I said. “I brought Zora Jane along today. Do you know her? She lives on the other side of the street in the big yellow Victorian house with the sheep and donkeys grazing on the hill.”

  Two mournful eyes dropped to the plate Zora Jane carried. I almost saw her mouth water. I guess Zora Jane noticed that too, because she lifted the plate where Lila could reach it. “These are for you. I hope you enjoy them.”

  In one fluid motion, Lila grabbed the plate and ripped off the plastic wrap. In a flash, she’d stuffed a whole cookie into her mouth. She closed her eyes and tilted back her head. Her expression brightened while she chewed, as if she’d never tasted anything so scrumptious before. Then, without warning, she shoved the plate back at Zora Jane and the dark cloud overtook her again. “Can’t! Must not bring them into the house!” Terror sparked from her eyes. “Go … now.” She reached for the door.

  “Now just a minute, young lady.” Zora Jane stepped into the doorway and pushed on the door from our side. “We’ve come for a short visit. Won’t take much of your time. You seem hungry. We’d be glad to make you a proper lunch.”

  Lila’s brow crinkled and she hesitated as if internally translating the words from a foreign language. Perhaps hunger overwhelmed her, because she let go of the door. The opening widened as Zora Jane pushed harder. “You are hungry, aren’t you, dear?”

  In answer, Lila managed a stiff, uncertain nod. Without hesitation, Zora Jane marched into the house. “Where’s your kitchen?”

  I followed, leaving the door ajar.

  The interior air reeked of rotting food and another foulness I couldn’t immediately identify. I paused to allow my sniffer to distinguish the odors. Definitely not urine. More musty, as if the house had been closed to air circulation too long. Maybe mildew, as well.

  The empty entryway opened to the house on either side. Zora Jane turned right through a large, bare room perhaps originally built as a living room and
headed through another smaller room into the kitchen. I lingered, tentatively examining the spaces. Lila loitered with me, monitoring my movements like a mother dog protecting her newborn puppies.

  Lila’s house appeared as neglected as she did. Old orange shag carpet blanketed the floors, the long shag from the late 1970s or early 1980s. The rug needed cleaning and raking badly. Why would anyone choose this carpet on purpose, even in those bizarre days? At the windows, minimal outside light filtered through shrouds of faded yellow burlap drapery. A large stone fireplace dominated the far end of the room. Several inches of fine dark ash obscured the bottom, indicating how long the fireplace had waited for a proper cleaning.

  After a minute, Lila gave up escorting me to pursue Zora Jane into the kitchen. I trailed after her through the smaller room that once might have been the dining room. Lacking furniture, the room now served no function. With nothing on walls or floors, how did they go about their daily lives? What did they sit on? I didn’t see a television either. Hard to imagine a house without television these days.

  A dull substance covered the kitchen counters, making the yellow tiles appear as drab and dated as the geometric vinyl on the floor. Daisy-strewn wallpaper peeled off the plaster in great hanging pieces. Judging from the open doors in the kitchen, I surmised that Zora Jane had already rooted through the medium oak cabinets without discovering food. Next, she stuck her head in the harvest gold refrigerator but pulled it right out with a groan. She frowned over the top of the door. “There’s no food in this kitchen. Where is your food, child?”

  Lila stood trancelike.

  Zora Jane heaved a deep sigh. “Well, goodness, I have a pot of soup on at my house. Won’t take me a minute to run home and get it.”

  Without input from either of us, Zora Jane grabbed my car keys and rushed out.

  I moved to follow her until I glanced at Lila. Wilted into a tiny wisp in the corner, it appeared that she had retreated into another world. I didn’t want to leave her like that.

  After a brief pause that felt lengthy, I wandered around the small space, exploring what wasn’t there. “Have you lived here long?”

  Lila didn’t answer, but her head jerked to attention as if she’d just discovered my presence. I continued trying to engage her. “The irises along the driveway were beautiful this spring. Did you plant them?”

  Her head bobbed as she followed my movements with her eyes.

  I peeked into one of the empty cabinets. “I planted irises too, but a gopher or a mole ate them. I don’t know which. Everything here in the country surprises us. Heard of a new creature … a vole. Do you know what that is?”

  She averted her eyes. I closed the cabinet door and the latch snapped as the magnet grabbed hold. Lila jumped.

  “Bryan, the landscape guy, told me if you plant bulbs in a wire cage, the critters can’t get them. I’m so lazy I can’t imagine going to all that trouble. I guess your irises grew without being eaten by varmints. I wish I could grow irises like yours.”

  Lila tilted her head, regarding me askance. She bit the side of her lip. Then words tumbled out. “Mrs. McCarthy—Maggie—she brought the iris bulbs. Right after we moved here. They make pretty flowers.”

  Leaning on the counter, I nodded.

  Light flamed in her eyes for a second before the vacant stare returned. “Blue, yellow, and purple flowers.” She chanted, repeating the words twice more.

  I forced my tense shoulders down and rubbed my stiff neck. What’s the best response for that? “How nice of her.”

  With a swipe of one open palm down my jeans, I attempted to remove the sticky stuff from the counter. “You remember Zora Jane, don’t you? She has animals at her house. Have you seen her three- legged goat? She named it Eileen. Don’t you just love that? A three-legged goat. Get it? I lean.” I demonstrated.

  No reaction.

  Did lack of a sense of humor indicate lack of intelligence? I read that somewhere. More likely, this woman was simply too depressed to find humor in anything—even a three-legged goat named Eileen.

  Adopting a softer, gentler tone, I stepped closer. “I notice you have bruises on your arm.”

  She cradled her injured arm with the opposite hand.

  I took another step. “How did you hurt yourself?”

  She didn’t answer, but her eyes widened and the pupils dilated.

  “Did you hurt yourself, Mrs. Payne? Or did someone hurt you?”

  Her voice sounded even smaller than before. “Not hurt. No. Not … hurt.” She backed away, shielding her neck with both hands.

  Did she think I would attack her? I reached out with one hand. “Don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm. Please, can I see your arm? Let me check those bruises.”

  She dodged away, wild, stringy hair swinging from one side of her neck. Just above her sweater, an enflamed line stretched into her hair. I couldn’t see the full extent of the injury, but surely swelling indicated serious trauma. I only caught a quick glimpse before the hair covered it again.

  I baby-stepped toward her. “Your neck. What happened? Please. I want to help you. Mrs. Payne—Lila—I won’t hurt you, I promise.” I kept my voice as even as possible, trembling inside at the horror of discovering more wounds.

  She retreated, maintaining distance between us.

  Following with slow steps, I whispered, “Who hurt you?”

  She appeared to shrink, becoming so small I feared she might disappear altogether.

  Let it go. You’ve frightened her. I never intended to add to her fear. I heaved a heavy sigh. How could I help her if she wouldn’t let me close?

  I backed off increasing her personal space by several feet. “Someday soon you can come up to visit Molly. She’s a wonderful dog. I know you’ll love her. She’s so gentle and …”

  I continued babbling for what seemed like an hour until Zora Jane returned bearing hot soup and crusty bread, which she set on the counter. She removed the lid from the tureen with a flourish and faced Lila. “Where are your bowls?”

  Another blank look crossed Lila’s face, but when her eyes swept the room this time, they came to rest on the steaming food. Lunging toward the counter, she crammed the serving ladle into the tureen and then right into her bird-like mouth.

  Homemade chunky vegetable beef soup sloshed onto the counter. Broth dripped off her petite chin and ran like a brown river down her neck to the dingy sweater. A few drops even ended up on her worn gray slippers. Her ravenous eating reminded me of Molly—always starving, even right after a feeding.

  With a twinge of conscience, I recalled the sparkling jars of jam still resting in my raffia-lined basket. How could I have waved them under her nose and then snatched them away while she starved for food? Why hadn’t I left them here?

  Lila finished the soup and several pieces of bread as we watched in amazement. In a flash, she collected the empty containers and shoved them toward us. “Go! You must go!”

  She delivered the words in a volume I would never have thought possible. We had to comply.

  As she ushered us through the empty entryway, I looked back over one shoulder. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “No. Don’t come back. Never again … never!”

  Even after the door banged shut with a crash louder than nearby thunder, her plaintive cry echoed through my brain. Zora Jane and I stood on the stoop, exchanging expressions of shock. What in heaven’s name had we gotten into?

  7

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zora Jane launched a commentary as we snapped into our seatbelts. “Well, there’s definitely something strange going on here. Did you notice how bare that house is? There’s no food in the kitchen or hardly anything else. Where do you suppose the furniture went? What do they sit on? Goodness, what do they sleep on? I’m sure the house hasn’t always been empty. I remember them unloading furniture from a big moving van. That poor woman hasn’t eaten or bathed in days, maybe weeks on the bathing. Must be ill.” She wrinkled her nose. “She has that smell.”<
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  I bobbed my head in agreement, overwhelmed by an unfamiliar sense of impotence at what we’d just witnessed. When I stopped the Jeep in front of the Callahans’ house, Zora Jane invited me inside for muffins.

  My eyes soaked up the comfort of Zora Jane’s house as I settled at her round breakfast table. A large lump formed in my throat at the stark contrast between the Callahan kitchen and the one we’d just visited. Scrubbed clean, cheery warm, stylish, and inviting, Zora Jane’s kitchen mirrored its owner. I stared at the fresh muffins and comforting pot of tea as a wave of urgency washed over me. “Did you see the bruises?”

  Zora Jane nodded.

  “There’s something on her neck, too. She wouldn’t let me close, but a red line runs right along the side.” I demonstrated. “Like someone tried to strangle her.”

  Her teacup clinked as she returned it to the saucer. “Poor lamb.”

  “I asked what happened but she wouldn’t say. She’s frightened. Classic abuse symptoms. I’ve read about them before. Right down to protecting her abuser. Maybe she’s sick too, like you said. She looks awfully frail. You can almost see through her skin. And did you notice how thin she is? He must be starving her.”

  With tears glistening in her eyes, Zora Jane nodded again.

  A shrill alarm screamed through me. Someone must intervene soon. I picked up my teacup and took a sip, then cupped both hands around it, relishing the comforting warmth. “What’re we going to do?”

  She finished off a piece of muffin and gave her fingers a dainty swipe on her napkin. “God is still in control. Our job is to trust him. We must keep praying.”

  Not waiting for my agreement, Zora Jane prayed. “God, you see everything in this world, no matter how hidden. Your word tells us you care about those who are hurting, those who are sick and sad. You love Lila with a love beyond our understanding. Please show us how to help her. We will trust you and wait for your time and your way. In Jesus’ blessed name, amen.”