wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before she turned in the desk chair. “Rilla, I think my mother’s dead.”
If someday Hollywood scouted the Asheville countryside for the perfect farm wife, Rilla Reynolds, clothed today in overalls, would easily be chosen. She was stocky but not overweight, easy to look at without being either plain or pretty. Her face was rectangular, her nose snubbed, and her brown eyes searched for answers even when she was engaging in small talk.
This wasn’t small talk.
“Did you get a phone call?” she asked, coming to stand beside Harmony and placing her hand on her younger friend’s shoulder for comfort. Then, before Harmony could answer, she shook her head. “Of course not. Nobody in Topeka knows you’re here.”
“I found this on the internet.” Harmony got up, as much to put distance between herself and the computer screen as to give Rilla a chance to read it.
Rilla took the chair, slowly bending her knees until she was finally sitting. From some distant point in her mind, Harmony realized that Rilla had already been on her feet too long today and would pay the price when she tried to sleep tonight.
Rilla silently read the article. Then she swiveled to face Harmony. “That’s the house you grew up in?”
Harmony nodded, thankful that Rilla hadn’t called it a home.
“They haven’t found a body yet. You saw that part?”
Harmony nodded again.
Rilla never danced around anything. “I guess it’s possible the fire was so extreme they never will, but it’s also possible nobody was home.”
“My parents don’t go anywhere except a cabin up north where my father can fish, and my mother can wait on him. They always do that during the first week in June, not September. If my father has to be away for work, it’s usually only for a night, and he never takes my mother. She’s always in that house unless she’s making a quick trip to the grocery store.”
“You haven’t been home in how long?”
Harmony shrugged, because doing math right now was impossible. “I’m twenty-three. I left right after high school graduation.”
“That’s years, Harmony. And you don’t talk to your parents. Maybe things have changed.”
“Sure, maybe my father found Jesus.” Harmony paused. “Or a different Jesus than the one he claimed he found years ago. You know, the Jesus who insisted that he beat my mother into submission if she planted petunias when he preferred marigolds.”
“People can change.”
Harmony considered that, but not for long. “He likes himself too much to think there might be a reason to.”
“No family they might be visiting?”
“My mother has no family, and my father only has distant cousins. They stay far away from him, which shows there might be good sensible people on the Stoddard side and my genes aren’t complete poison.” She heard the bitterness in her voice, but she didn’t care. She would deal with her father’s death if she had to, but right now her only concern was for her mother.
Rilla was assessing the situation, looking past Harmony’s shoulder as her mind whirled. Harmony could see it in her eyes. Rilla was compassionate and empathetic, but right now Rilla-the-problem-solver was in play.
“I think we ought to call Brad at the office and get him to make inquiries. You don’t want to give yourself away, and Brad will know how to go about doing it so the call isn’t traced back to you.”
Harmony wasn’t sure what to say. Brad Reynolds was a lawyer, and a good one. She needed answers. She just didn’t feel ready for them.
“It will take him some time,” Rilla said, reading her expression. “You’ll have time to prepare.”
“He could have killed her. Finally. He could have set the fire and locked her inside to die, or killed her first and set the fire to cover what he’d done.”
Rilla grimaced. “Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not going to help if you make up scenarios.”
Harmony knew Rilla was right. And could her father do something that horrible? Abuse was one thing, but murder? Yet wasn’t that the path abusive men took? Especially if they believed their wife or lover was trying to leave them?
Marilla got up a little faster than she’d sat down, and she stepped forward to put her arms around Harmony, although she was the shorter of the two. “Let me call Brad, okay? Not knowing is going to be worse than knowing. If nothing else, the truth will pare down the fantasies.”
But Harmony was already thinking of another. “She could have killed him, Rilla, to protect herself. Finally and forever. Maybe she set the fire and escaped. Or died with him.”
Marilla held her at arm’s length. “You can see this isn’t helpful?”
Harmony realized she had tears running down her cheeks. She reached around Rilla for a tissue from a box on the desk and blew her nose.
“Brad?” Marilla asked.
Harmony nodded. “You’ll ask him to be careful? Not to give me away?”
“I’ll remind him, but he thinks like a lawyer, remember? That’s the first thing he’ll figure out.”
One of Rilla’s sons—they sounded so much alike it was never easy to tell who was calling—began to shout from the family room at the back of the house. Harmony registered something about the television and promises, but her mind was whirling in other directions.
“I’ll get the boys settled. Then I’ll call Brad. He’s got trial tomorrow, so I know he’s still at the office. Why don’t I get you some iced tea while I’m at it?”
Harmony shook her head. Her stomach was roiling. “Taylor and Maddie are probably on their way.”
“Taylor will understand if you don’t want to go out tonight. Try her cell phone.”
“She won’t answer if she’s driving.”
“Good for her. Why don’t I make enough dinner for all of us, then? The boys adore Maddie. She won’t be bored.”
“You’re exhausted. I can see it.”
“Then come help me.”
Harmony knew what Rilla was doing. There were better distractions at the farm than dinner out and a movie would provide. “What do I tell Taylor?”
Rilla looked surprised. “The truth.”
“But it’s not her problem.”
“This is when people rally around you. She’ll consider it her problem, too. We’re here for support.”
Harmony hadn’t experienced much of that as a child. No Stoddard talked about anything that went on at home for fear of retaliation from the master of the house. “Support” was a word
