Thrill of the hunt, p.10
Thrill Of The Hunt, page 10
Enid jumped, her hand involuntarily touching her chest.
“Oh, no. I always seem to scare you. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. I’ll recover.” She sent him a reassuring smile.
He walked to her side and stared out the window. “What’s so interesting out there?”
“Nothing. And everything. I was just thinking, that’s all.”
“I’m not sure I like this pensive Enid. I like the one who shared the picnic with me better.” Enid knew he was jesting, but seriousness bubbled just below the surface. “Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to talk to me about?”
She turned from him and sat on the sofa. “Not really.”
“What is it, then?” He took the seat beside her.
Since she could never tell how long Connie might be kept amused, Enid didn’t take time to soft pedal her concerns. “Your name. Connie called you by your name.”
“Okay.” He said the word gingerly. With his fingers, he made a circling motion, indicating he wanted her to explain herself. “I hope you’re not telling me that my aunt said I have to change my name on top of everything else.” He patted her on the knee jokingly.
Enid shook her head in answer to his rhetorical question. “I just expected Connie to call you. . .”
“To call me what?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.
“Well, I expected her to call you—Daddy.”
Reece’s mouth dropped open. “Daddy?” He paused for a moment. Enid could visualize cartoonish cogs rolling around and around in his head. “Oh, because I’m raising her.” He nodded, but he didn’t look at her. “I can see how some people might think that, but really, nobody can replace her dad. And I really miss him too. Nobody can replace Dad. Nobody.”
Enid tried to absorb what he was telling her. “Do you mean to say Connie and you have the same dad?”
“Sure,” Reece confirmed. “But not the same mother, of course.”
“Wait a minute. You have the same father, but not the same mother.”
“That’s right.”
“So you’re her half brother.” Enid was stating the obvious so she could absorb this new information for herself.
After delivering this witty remark, Reece widened his eyes. “You mean, Aunt Agnes never told you?”
“No. It’s not exactly like we talked about you all the time.” She playfully patted him on the knee.
“I’m so disappointed. I thought everyone talked about me all the time.” He rolled his eyes in mock derision before turning serious again. “So after you met Connie and me, what did you decide about us—other than that I was Connie’s dad?”
Enid vacillated, but decided this was no time for duplicity. “At first I thought you were divorced or a widower. But then, you never mentioned any wife.”
“I didn’t mourn a departed saint or complain about my ex, huh?” He rubbed his chin. “Which would you have liked better?”
“Neither,” she admitted. “But if I had to pick, I’d probably say I’d rather you complain about an ex. It’s easier to compete with a live person than a cherished memory.”
“Compete, huh?” His eyes softened. “Do you really think there could be any competition for you?”
Suddenly shy, Enid didn’t answer, but pretended to become entranced once again with the view of the outdoors.
“I think I know what happened,” he continued, his voice still tender. “When I didn’t mention anyone, you finally decided I’d never been married, but I had fathered this little girl anyway. Isn’t that right?”
Enid felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks. She was still unable to look Reece in the face. “I wasn’t sure.”
“No wonder you thought I was the biggest heathen you’d ever met.” She could hear the hurt in his tone.
Her head snapped in his direction. “Now, that’s not true at all,” she protested, not caring whether or not Reece realized she was offended. “I don’t judge other people. At least, I try not to.”
Reece thought for a moment. “You know, I have to say, from the time we met, I never saw your kindness to Connie and me waver. I had no idea you were going through all this turmoil, wondering about me.” He placed his hand on hers. Enid felt protected by its warmth. “Maybe you’re not like some of the other Christians I know. I don’t think a lot of them would have wanted anything to do with me if I’d fathered Connie before I was married. They would have left me all alone, floundering, hoping I’d solve this mystery on my own. Or maybe they would secretly be glad to see me fail.”
“Don’t be so hard on them. You might be surprised by the acceptance you and Connie would find in the Christian community, whatever your circumstances.” She flipped her hand over, never letting go of his. She gave his fingers a squeeze. “I’m just glad Connie finally called you by your name.”
His steady gaze met hers. “Does knowing she’s my half-sister make a difference?”
“If you had asked me that when we first met, I would have said ‘definitely.’ I might have gone full steam ahead in showing you how much I care for you.” Realizing she’d just blurted too much, Enid hastened to continue. “I think this was the Lord’s way of encouraging me not to come on too strong.”
“I somehow can’t imagine you as coming on too strong.”
“Oh, really?” She arched an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you don’t think I have strong opinions.”
He thought for a moment, a twinkle lighting his eyes all the while. “Do you? What a shock! I never would have guessed you had any opinions about diet or anything else.”
“Then you get the picture.” She studied his face, letting her eyes take in each feature. She could imagine herself looking at Reece every day. Not wanting to become too distracted, she continued. “I’ve been praying about us, and the Lord had already given me a sense of peace. I can honestly say that your blood relationship to Connie isn’t important in my eyes. Your emotional bonds to her and to the Lord are what’s important.”
“But you’re glad I’m her brother.”
Chagrined that she was so transparent, Enid stared at the top of the coffee table. In the sunlight, an increasingly thick layer of dust was evident. “I really should come in here and spruce up sometime. When is everything supposed to be moved out?”
Reece’s hesitation in responding indicated he wasn’t enthusiastic about the abrupt change in subject. Nevertheless, he complied. “Her lawyer says that Aunt Agnes left provisions in her will for everything. He told me not to worry about it, that it would happen in good time.”
She returned her gaze to his face. “Wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on? Sure sounds like it.”
“I have a feeling he does too. But he’s not talking.”
Reece let go of Enid’s hand and retrieved the box from the top of the table. Opening it revealed a wide array of costume jewelry. Gold chains with assorted pendants, one strand of pearls, and several strands of glass beads hung from necklace hooks. Agnes favored one pair of button style clip-on earrings, so only a few other pairs were present among her collection. Rings seemed to be her favorite jewelry, if the contents of the box were any indication. Eyeing rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamond chips, opals, and onyx, Enid remembered that Agnes changed rings to suit her mood and outfit. Though lovely, all of the pieces appeared to be costume, of little monetary value.
Giving up on finding anything in the first section, Reece opened a drawer and pulled out a small blue ring box inside. He flipped it open. Inside was a sapphire ring with a note rolled inside. “The next clue!”
Reece unrolled the paper and read aloud:
And she gave the king an hundred and twenty talents of gold, and of spices great abundance, and precious stones: neither was there any such spice as the queen of Sheba gave king Solomon. (2 Chronicles 9:9)
They say these give variety to life
Instead live simply, without strife.
“You don’t think this has anything to do with television variety shows, do you?” Enid wondered.
“No. Aunt Agnes only had one television, and there’s nothing else taped to that one. I already checked.”
“Radio, then?”
“I doubt it.” He thought for a moment. “I do remember an old saying, though. ‘Variety is the spice of life.’ ”
Enid snapped her fingers. “The spice rack!”
Without another word, both of them headed for the kitchen. Surprisingly, Connie had turned off the set and was busy coloring a book on the sturdy wooden table. She looked up. “Whatcha doin’?”
“We think we may know where the next clue is,” Reece explained while Enid looked behind the spice rack.
“Here it is!” She carefully tore the taped message off the back of the rack. After unfolding it, she read aloud:
And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone: and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald. (Revelation 4:3)
Just look around and you
Will see in sight an emerald too.
“She knows we were just looking in her jewelry box. Maybe there’s an emerald ring or necklace in there,” Reece suggested.
They hurried back to the jewelry box, still half open on the coffee table in the living room. After a quick look revealed no green stones in the top section, they inspected the inside of each drawer. No emeralds were to be found anywhere.
“What could she possibly mean?” Enid wondered.
“Beats me. Let’s look around.” From their perch on the couch, they eyed everything in the living room. There was nothing green among the creams and mauves in the room.
“Maybe it has something to do with money. Money is green,” Enid pointed out. “Did she have a safe deposit box by any chance, Reece?”
“How am I supposed to know?” His irritation and exasperation with the continuing puzzle were evident in his voice. Immediately he looked contrite. “Sorry. You’ve been a lot of help. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“That’s all right. Most people don’t have to work this hard to realize an inheritance.”
“Maybe at least this is the last clue. If the inheritance is in a safe deposit box, it must be the money.”
“That would stand to reason. What time is it?”
“Yikes!” Reece said as he looked at his wristwatch. “It’s already after noon. The bank lobbies are closed.”
“We’ll just have to wait until Monday.”
“What will I do until then?” Reece groaned.
“You don’t have plans for tomorrow?”
“Sure don’t,” he admitted.
“Why don’t you come with me to church?”
Reece hesitated. “I usually sleep in on Sundays, but after what happened between us and the Lord the other day, I know I really should start going. And I especially need to start getting Connie there.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” said Enid. “The service I go to starts at nine forty-five. I’ll see you at your house at nine.”
Reece smiled, the emotion reaching his brown eyes. “It’s a deal.”
Eleven
“We’re ready!” Reece greeted Enid at the door of his apartment the next morning.
Enid let out an appreciative whistle when she saw Reece wearing a dark suit and deep red tie that looked sharp against a fresh white shirt.
“You didn’t think I owned a suit, huh?” Reece tried to keep his tone teasing. In reality, when he’d hunted for his old suit, he had let out an audible sigh. It was still reasonably in style and not too snug.
“I figured you were hiding one or two somewhere in your closet. Don’t be surprised if you’re one of the few men dressed in a suit today, but you look marvelous.”
Surprised by this new information, Reece wondered aloud, “When did men stop wearing suits to church?”
“The ones who want to wear them still do. But the dress code is more relaxed now.”
“Are you sure? Look at you,” Reece noted. Enid was dressed beautifully in a cream-colored suit with black trim that set off her silken skin and blond hair.
“You know me.”
Reece liked the way that sounded. The fact she could make such an off-the-cuff remark and know he would understand her spoke volumes about their relationship. A satisfied smile tickled his lips.
Enid knelt in front of Connie, her eyes alight with friendly approval as she inspected Connie’s attire. “And you look beautiful too!”
“Thank you!” Connie was pleased. “I never had a dwess this fancy. We just got it—”
Reece interrupted. “That’s enough, Connie.” He saw no need for Enid to know that Connie hadn’t owned a dressy outfit before the previous afternoon. Since she spent most of her time at home, in day care, or at tumbling lessons, lace dresses were hardly necessary.
Her eyes wide, Connie looked up at him. “But why can’t I tell her we got a new dwess?”
Enid laughed. “She’s proud of her new clothes, Reece. And I don’t blame her.” She stroked Connie’s brown locks. “I’m pleased that you went to all that trouble, Connie. You look very pretty. Very pretty indeed.”
Reece noticed the woman standing before him, not for the first time. “And so do you.”
“And so do you,” Connie repeated.
“Thanks.” Enid studied her black patent leather purse and fidgeted with its gold tone chain handle. “Enough of this mutual fan club meeting. We’d better be going.” She took Connie’s hand and turned to make her way to the car.
So casual and nonchalant, Enid obviously had no idea how nervous Reece was about going to church. He remembered his childhood church experiences as boring, with a minister droning on and on and the congregation singing songs he didn’t know. He welcomed noon as the time to leave the confines of the sanctuary, to strip off his tie, and relish the freedom of the outdoors.
As late as that morning, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. Even at this very moment, he still wasn’t sure. But his motives weren’t exactly pure. He wanted to be with Enid. If that meant listening to a tedious sermon and reading passages of liturgy from a book, so be it. Seeing her standing before him, in her ravishing way, he decided putting up with the hour-long service would be worth the trouble.
After a short hop across town, they arrived at Enid’s church fifteen minutes before the service was to begin. Reece felt a fresh attack of nerves as they made their way to the foyer. He recognized the minister from Aunt Agnes’s funeral.
“Why isn’t he wearing a robe?” Reece whispered to Enid.
“This service isn’t that formal.”
Reece observed the other parishioners. Most were dressed in clothing more appropriate to a casual atmosphere or office than how he remembered Sundays. In spite of Enid’s kind warning, he felt overdressed. He regretted going to the expense of buying Connie a fancy dress, even though he had managed to find it on sale at a discounter. Finally, when Enid greeted a teenage boy wearing earrings and an unconventional hairstyle, Reece knew for certain that church had changed since he was a boy.
“Connie,” Enid asked, “would you rather go into the big service with us or to Sunday school with other little girls and boys your age?”
Connie didn’t hesitate. “Sunday school.”
“Is that all right with you, Reece?” Enid asked.
Remembering his unfavorable impressions of past worship services, he nodded his assent. Moments later, as he met the teacher and saw the other kids in the class, Reece was glad Connie could be with a group of people who seemed so kind.
During the service, Reece was in for more surprises. Rather than an organ or piano, a band complete with drums, horns, and electric guitars provided the music. The songs they played weren’t the slow, traditional ones he remembered, but modern and upbeat. “They can rival any rock group,” Reece whispered in Enid’s ear.
“We think so.” She smiled and clapped in time to the beat.
From the corner of his eye, Reece watched Enid throughout the service. During the songs, she seemed to glow with happiness and joy, even lifting her arms in praise at particularly emotional points. Reece felt too inhibited to participate so fully, but he could understand why worshippers could get caught up in the lively spirit.
As the congregation prepared to hear the sermon, Reece expected the service to hit a low point. The pastor hadn’t been too longwinded at his aunt’s funeral service, but what was he like behind the pulpit? Did he love the sound of his own voice, relish the idea of his own wisdom, so much that he preached on and on every Sunday? Sighing, Reece folded his arms and sat back in the pew, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass Enid by falling asleep.
When he instructed them to open their Bibles to Malachi 2:15, Reece remembered his Bible sitting beside his chair at home and resolved to bring it next week. In the meantime, he was grateful that Enid had brought her Bible. Quickly she thumbed to the correct passage, a feat Reece wouldn’t have accomplished so expertly. The minister read:
Has not the Lord made them one? In flesh and spirit they are his. And why one? Because he was seeking godly offspring. So guard yourself in your spirit, and do not break faith with the wife of your youth.
Reece stole a glance at Enid to see if he could discern from her expression what she was thinking about the sermon on a godly marriage. She leaned forward, rapt as she listened to the minister’s knowledge. Reece couldn’t remember ever before seeing anyone truly delighted to hear a sermon. As he settled in to listen, though, even Reece had to admit that the message was riveting. Perhaps the sermons he had failed to hear in the past were too. Only now, timeless topics the Bible addressed were more relevant to his life and current situation than they were during his childhood. When the opportunity availed itself, Reece placed his hand on Enid’s and to his delight, she grasped his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He envisioned sitting beside her every Sunday from then on.
Before he knew what had happened, the last song was sung and Reece followed Enid to the Sunday school classroom to pick up Connie. The little girl put the finishing touches on her crayon drawing before running into Reece’s arms. She handed her picture, drawn on pink construction paper, to Reece. “Look! It’s Noah’s ark!”
