A Changing Light by Edith Maxwell (feel good books to read txt) 📕

too. For her own health, and she also could be infecting others. But she refuses to stay home and rest. And she won’t hear of traveling to a sanitarium.”

“That’s a pity.”

“If you can persuade her otherwise, it would be a great service to her and her fellow citizens.”

“I’ll try.” I watched a scarlet cardinal hop on the railing of my porch. “Does William Parry have the disease, too?”

“Mrs. Dodge, I truly can’t reveal anything else about my patients. It’s all to be confidential.”

“I understand. Please let me know if thee needs my help with Orpha or anything else.”

“I shall do so. I expect she’s now in heaven having a good laugh and a piece of berry pie with my mother. That’s a comforting thought, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

We said our farewells and ended the call. I didn’t have as clear an image of the afterlife as that held by practitioners of other religions or even some of my fellow Friends. I did have faith that Orpha’s soul was resting easy, wherever it had landed. I resolved to make my own mind easy about the unsettling events of this week. Only then would I be able to rest.

After I laid out a fresh sheet of paper and sharpened a pencil, I began to jot down what I knew, as well as which questions remained.

Justice shot. Where is the gun? Who killed him? Did wife abuse him?

Luthera. Reason to want husband dead?

The stolen plans. Ned’s? Plans for what, exactly?

Night watchman saw tall person running. Zeb? Who? Need to talk to Pete. If Zeb, why?

William Parry. Heard arguing with Justice. Is William involved? Why?

 

I sat back. What else did I know, or need to know? I thought of one more item.

Wilson, Georgia’s driver. What time did he bring Luthera home?

 

The bell in the hall sounded, the one attached to the twisting handle in the front door.

“Rose?” Faith called from outside. She pounded at the entrance.

“Just a minute,” I called as I hurried to pull open the door. “Faith, come in.”

“I can’t. But . . .” Her voice trailed off. Her bonnet was askew, and her cheeks were flushed.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Zeb. They think he—” Her words rushed out, ending in a sob. She brought a shaking hand to her mouth.

“Step inside, dear Faith. It’s cold, and thee is upset.” I pulled her in, shutting the door. I kept hold of her arm and persuaded her to perch on the settee in the sitting room next to me. “Now, take a deep breath and tell me what has happened.”

“I tried to call thee last night, but no one answered. Kevin Donovan questioned Zeb yesterday. Someone claimed he saw Zeb the night of the murder.”

“I know,” I said in a soft voice.

“Thee does?” She stared at me.

“I was at the Parry showroom yesterday afternoon when Kevin arrived, saying he needed to speak with Zeb in private.”

“But Rose! Zeb is a gentle man. He never would hurt anyone, ever.”

“Faith, calm thyself.” I took her hand. “Did Kevin arrest him?”

“No.”

“Did he detain him at the police station?”

She shook her head.

“That means Zeb is not in trouble.” Yet. “That said, does thee feel he hides anything from thee? Does thee know if he was out late working that night, or was he perhaps doing something different about which he didn’t want to inform thee?”

Faith let out a noisy breath and reclaimed her hand, clasping it with the other in her lap. “I’ve never told thee, but his mother has a terrible habit of drinking alcohol, and far too much of it.”

“Prudence.” Exactly what Alma had said.

“Yes. I know about her habit, because we lived with them for a time. But Zeb is desperately unhappy about it. He’s worried about her, and he feels ashamed, too. I think he might have been out helping her the night of the murder.”

“Has thee asked him directly?”

“No.” She glanced at the clock, which read eight forty-five. “Criminy.”

“Faith . . .” I gently scolded her for using a euphemism for Christ.

“I know. I shouldn’t utter that word. But I have to be at the newspaper office at nine.” She stood. “Thank thee for listening, Rose. I pray thee is working hard on the case.”

“As hard as I can. As is Kevin, I can assure thee.”

Faith tossed her head as if she didn’t believe me. “He needs to be looking in an entirely different direction, in my opinion.”

Chapter Nineteen

After Faith left, I returned to my office. I hadn’t even had the chance to tell her about Orpha. That news could wait. I’d resumed staring at my list when Akwasi Ayensu rapped on my office door.

Esther’s tall, dark husband worried his cap in his large hands. “Rose, Esther believes the baby is coming. She needs you.” Despite Akwasi attending Amesbury Friends’ worship, John Whittier hadn’t been successful in convincing him to adopt our rather archaic ways of speaking.

I wasn’t surprised at his words. The full moon often brought on labor. “I’ll come straight away,” I said. “Go and sit with her. Smooth her brow, hold her hand. Persuade her to take deep slow breaths during the pains. Can thee do that?”

“I will do anything for her.” His expression of worry made his ears stick out from his head even more than usual. “But isn’t it too early for the baby?”

“Not too. Esther is within what we call the safe period of time for birth. Thy baby is well big enough to survive outside the womb.”

“He is?” His deep brown eyes widened, and he allowed himself a little smile.

“Yes. Off with thee now. I’ll be along within the half hour.”

He clapped his cap onto his head and rushed away. I didn’t hurry as I changed my dress, pinned up my hair again, checked my birthing satchel. This was a first birth and was unlikely to speed along. When a woman’s body hadn’t yet stretched all the way open to let out a baby even once, labor was usually somewhat prolonged. I was glad I’d had a big breakfast. It occurred to me