Morton threw down the plastic pen labeled Ambien: sleeplikeababy.com. “I’m tired and don’t want to be the secretary anymore. I have writer’s cramp, I have to pee, and I never got lunch. Silas has been dead for over a hundred years; he can rest in peace later.”
Abby stretched. “Almost done. We’re in the second half of the Bible, the New Testament. This is the book of Hebrews.” She flipped through the remainder. “Nine more to go. Just be glad Leticia left margin notes at each clue, leading us to the next one.”
“Come on, Abs,” Morton whined. “I’m out of M&M’s; I’m desperate. Just scan the rest, you already got plenty of words.”
“This isn’t a book report. It’s not about the number of words. We’re searching for clues, remember? I don’t want to miss anything.”
Silence stretched in the room. Morton folded his arms.
“How about this?” Abby said. “Use the bathroom, we’ll finish up, then get pizza.”
“With pepperoni, mushrooms, and green pepper?”
“Whatever; I’ll pick off the meat,” Abby said.
Morton left; Abby heard the toilet flush, then the splash of water in the sink. He returned and collapsed on the bed. “As long as you get the crust with cheese inside.”
They went back to work. Abby’s eyes strained to read the small print and search through columns of words. Finally she reached the last page of the Bible in the book of Revelation.
“Here’s hoping we get a revelation from Leticia. Let’s see if it makes any sense.” She plopped down beside Morton, box springs squeaking in protest.
Morton bounced up and down on the bed, grinning when the noise became louder.
“You are such a child.”
“What’s going on here?” Jack stood in the doorway. “Sounds like you two kids are having lots of fun.” He raised one eyebrow.
Abby jumped up. “We’re reading a Bible, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Jack peered around Abby. “It is a Bible.”
“Yeah, we’re reading about …” Morton began.
“God,” Abby said. “Maybe you’ve heard of Him. What’s up? Did you miss me?” She smiled, wishing she had put on some make-up.
“I need the key for the big cupboard in the barn. Your mother thought you might know where it is.” He waited, tapping one booted foot on the floor.
Abby shrugged. “No clue. What’s the big hurry?”
“The ‘big hurry’ is there’s a job to finish before I leave for the bike rally in D.C. and my little get-together with President Keller. I haven’t got all day.” Jack’s voice cracked. “Do you have the damn key or not? A key is the only thing I’m missing.”
“What exactly is your problem?” Abby said.
“I’m not here to flirt with little girls. I have a job to do, and no one and nothing is going to interfere. The key?”
“Find the stupid key yourself, genius. Now get out of my room.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, and he started to speak, then seemed to reconsider. He turned and slammed the door shut on his way out.
Abby didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt. Why couldn’t he just be decent and uncomplicated?
“How come you didn’t tell him about Silas and the Bible?” Morton said. “Maybe nasty is his regular personality, and he can’t help it. Genetics, you know. His parents must be jerks, too.”
“The more I get to know Jacques Charpentier, the more I don’t trust him.” Abby’s eyes narrowed. “His mood swings creep me out. It’s none of his business what I do in my own house. And why are you defending him? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“But if Jack …” Morton said.
“Forget Jack. We have to figure out what Leticia’s trying to tell us.”
Morton put his arms behind his head. “Hurry up. I’m hungry.”
Abby picked up the yellow legal pad and read through each entry copied from the Bible, trying to absorb the meaning from the archaic language. “Some of these are redundant.”
Morton frowned. “Huh?”
“You know, Leticia underlined lots of sentences with ‘wicked’ this and ‘wicked’ that. They all sound the same. I’ll pick out phrases that aren’t repetitive and see if they make any sense. Listen:
… Knowing good and evil …
The wicked watcheth the righteous, and seeketh to slay him.
This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find …
And for this cause he is the mediator.
… The same yesterday and to-day, yea, and for ever.
He which testifieth these things saith, Yea:… Amen …”
Abby looked up at Morton; he shrugged. “I wrote them the way the Bible had it. I never understood those old words, even in church. It’s just a bunch of junk, Abs. Maybe Leticia underlined stuff she liked. It seemed like a good idea, but …” He shrugged again. “So, pizza, right?”
Abby conceded defeat and ordered pizza. She went downstairs to wait for the delivery and found her mother on the porch swing staring into space as the chains clinked in rhythm. She perched on the step, facing the drive.
“I wish you hadn’t ignored me for the past few days. I’d rather have you yelling at me than saying nothing at all.” The chains on the porch swing went silent.
“I got mad.” Abby turned halfway around.
“Do you really think I forgot your dad’s birthday?”
“Well, yeah, you did.”
Lisa’s voice caught. “I think about him every day. Each time I look at you I see him—brilliant smile, blue eyes, blond hair. I tried to make things nice the other morning because I knew it would be a tough day for you. It backfired, I guess, but I resent you thinking he meant that little to me. Your dad and I loved each other once, Abby. You are the visible miracle of that. We both loved you. I still do.”
Abby faced her mother. “But you chose to leave. And you didn’t come back.”
Lisa shook her head. “I never planned to stay away forever. Time passed and everything got blurry for me. People make choices, some good, some not so great. And those decisions can bite you in the butt—and hurt others, too. But you don’t have the exclusive rights to grief around here.”
A white car with the Vocelli’s Pizza logo pulled up. Abby paid for the pizza, opened the screen door, and paused. “I miss him so much.”
Her mother walked over, reached around the pizza box, and gave her a brief hug. “I know, honey. I know.” She went back to the swing.
At the risk of letting the pizza get cold, Abby stood inside the front door and leaned against the wall. She couldn’t recall Lisa ever being transparent about her life. Her rejection had always seemed thoughtless and spiteful. But there had been real pain in her voice. What had really happened twelve years ago? Yet another unsolved mystery.
“Hey, where’s my pizza?” Morton’s voice drifted down from above.
“Yeah, okay.” Abby returned to her room and gave Morton the pizza. She picked pepperoni off one slice and choked it down. After he left she couldn’t sit still, aching for her Dad, understanding that nothing would bring him back. Afraid to hope for a real relationship with her mother. Wishing Silas would appear, knowing it to be a crazy thought filled with unfathomable emotions. Jack appealed to her—who wouldn’t find him gorgeous—but not in the same way as Silas. But a flesh-and-blood guy had to be better than a … ghost … or whatever.
She paced around the room, picking things up, putting them down, adjusting the lampshade, biting her nails, glancing at Leticia’s notations from the Bible. Studying the pages in her hand, she organized the Bible phrases into a paragraph, adding punctuation and updating the language:
Knowing right and wrong, the evil watched the honest and tried to kill him. I am proud of my son. Look for it and you will find it. For the true cause he became the go-between. The message is always the same. The one who wrote this swears it is true.
Abby picked up the paper and began to pace again, reading it aloud, trying out different meanings. “So, someone knows the difference between right and wrong. That could be anyone. A bad person tried to kill an honest man. Who are these guys? Leticia is proud of Silas, that’s easy.”
She folded the page in half. “If I look for it I’ll find it. Whatever “it” is. Someone became the middleman for the true cause. She probably means Silas; the Civil War must have been the cause. The meaning is always the same. Okay, time hasn’t changed anything. Leticia swears it’s all true. Which means exactly what?”
Abby threw the tablet on her bed and spent the remainder of the day doing chores around the house. By evening exhaustion caught up with her. She took a shower, shaving her legs and washing her hair. The aroma of body wash, pleasant and flowery, combined with the warm water, relaxed her. She towel-dried her hair and braided it wet, hoping the waves she would have in the morning would impress Silas if he appeared.
In her room she pulled on striped pajamas from Pink via Goodwill. Although ready for bed, she had gotten no closer to solving any real secrets, to figuring out how to let go of her dad, how to love her mother, or how to deal with her feelings for a man who didn’t exist in the real world. Because in spite of her lack of experience with romantic relationships, her soul knew it had found its true mate.
Hands under her head, Abby lay on her bed until night wrapped itself around the old house. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, barely noticing a lightning-bolt shaped crack in the plaster. The Bible phrases began to take shape in her mind, swirling like mist through the framework of Leticia’s old letter and what she had read about the Civil War.
She grabbed the pink stuffed pig she’d slept with since her toddler days and looked into her eyes. “Okay, listen up, Piggy, you gotta help me out here. The ‘true cause’ is the Civil War; I’m sure about that. Silas was a soldier for the Union Army. Who would be famous enough that an ordinary soldier and his mother would think of him as ‘honest’ … someone well known, important? What about Abraham Lincoln, old Honest Abe? But it couldn’t be him … could it? In the letter Leticia said Silas did something for Mr. Lincoln. What if Silas saved the life of the president?
She sat up in the dark. “Someone tried to kill President Lincoln. Silas died saving the president’s life, making his mother proud. It’s a secret, but the answer can be discovered and is always going to be the same. Leticia knew the truth, but made sure the secret would be protected. It’s a pretty big leap, but at least it’s a place to start.”
Abby got up and looked out her front window at the yard below, glistening in a shaft of moonlight. Her gaze traveled to the moonlit sky. “Good-night, moon,” she whispered, remembering the book her dad read to her each night at bedtime before she could read.
She jumped when a car backfired, then climbed under the covers and drifted into a dreamless sleep.