“He won’t be released for lack of evidence this time,” Margaret said. “There’s no need to get someone to give him an alibi, either.”
I nodded and continued reading. “It also says he’s in the hospital.”
“Good. I hope he’s in a lot of pain.”
“Margaret!”
“Do you want me to lie?”
“No, but a little compassion wouldn’t hurt.”
“Compassion?” Margaret repeated. “I have as much compassion for him as he did for my daughter.”
I refolded the newspaper and gave it back to my sister. I’d really hoped Margaret had listened to Julia, but evidently not.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a big disappointment to you.”
“Oh, Margaret,” I said, growing tired of the discussion. “You aren’t a disappointment. I don’t have any love for Danny Chesterfield either, you know. He hurt Julia and his actions have affected our entire family. Even Mom’s sensed that something’s wrong.”
“The article said he’s in serious but stable condition.”
I’d read that, too. “He’ll live,” I muttered.
“Better yet, he’s going to jail.”
I had to agree; learning Danny Chesterfield would soon be incarcerated didn’t bother me any.
“You know what Julia said when I told her?” Margaret asked. She didn’t wait for a response. “Julia said revenge wasn’t for us to exact. Danny Chesterfield will pay for his crimes. In our justice system or a higher one…”
Once again, I felt there was much my sister could learn from her daughter.
The subject of Danny Chesterfield wasn’t brought up even once as we charged through our day. Margaret turned over the Closed sign to read Open, flipped on all the lights and stopped to pet Whiskers, who’d taken his spot in the display window.
No sooner had she unfastened the lock than our first customer arrived. I hadn’t finished with my paperwork, so Margaret waited on her.
Even at the best of times Margaret isn’t a chatty person, but as the day wore on I noticed that she seemed quieter than usual. I knew our brief conversation that morning weighed on her mind. Frankly, it did on mine, too.
John F. Kennedy is reported to have said that we can forgive our enemies but we shouldn’t forget their names. I wasn’t forgetting Danny Chesterfield anytime soon, but to the best of my ability I’d forgiven him. I don’t mean to sound like some spiritual giant who could magnanimously offer this man my pardon. For one thing, I had far less to forgive than my sister. Julia was my niece, not my daughter. This man had put Margaret and Matt through hell when he hurt Julia.
Toward the end of the afternoon, Margaret approached me. I’d returned to my office to complete some orders. “Can you come with me after work?” she asked.
I assumed she wanted the two of us to visit Mom. “Of course.”
Margaret nodded and offered me a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “Thank you.”
I almost asked, “For what?” Margaret was thanking me? That was a rare occurrence.
“You were talking about going to visit Mom, weren’t you?” I pressed, suddenly unsure.
Margaret shook her head. “No, actually I was thinking of going to the hospital.”
Sometimes I can be a little slow, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall who we knew in the hospital. My confusion must have shown on my face because Margaret walked over to my desk, picked up the folded newspaper and waved it in front of me.
“You want to visit Danny Chesterfield?” I asked, so astonished I could barely get the words out.
“You aren’t going to change your mind, are you?”
My immediate reaction was to do exactly that. I had absolutely no desire to see Danny Chesterfield. He probably had no desire to see Margaret and me, either.
“What possible good will that do?” I asked.
“Are you coming or not?” she demanded. “A simple yes or no will do.”
“Ah…”
“Fine, suit yourself,” she snapped, walking quickly as if she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
I took a couple of minutes to consider before I followed her. “I’ll go,” I said in as neutral a voice as I could manage.
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“I’m not,” I told her, although this definitely felt like one.
While Margaret was busy helping a customer, I called Brad on his cell phone and told him I’d be home a bit later than usual and why.
“You’re doing what?” he said when I’d explained Margaret’s request. “Do you really think this is a wise idea?”
“Which? Margaret visiting Danny Chesterfield or me going with her?”
“Both!”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
For a moment I thought Brad was going to try to dissuade me, but he didn’t. I was grateful for that because I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done if he’d asked me not to go.
After Margaret and I closed up shop for the day, we decided to leave my vehicle in the parking area. Margaret could drive, since it seemed pointless to take two cars, especially during rush-hour traffic.
The first place we went was the information desk at Harbor-view, the hospital where, according to the paper, Chesterfield had been taken. The clerk there checked her computer. “Daniel Chesterfield was brought in two days ago by an emergency medical vehicle and released to local authorities this morning.”
Margaret nodded.
I didn’t have a clue what that could mean. “In other words, he’s in jail now?” Apparently his injuries weren’t significant enough to keep him hospitalized.
“He’s in the King County Medical Facility at the jail,” the woman said.
“Oh…”
“Thank you,” Margaret said, and together we hurried out of the hospital.
“Well, that’s that,” I said, glad of the reprieve. I didn’t understand why Margaret wanted to visit this criminal in the first place.
“We’re going to the King County Jail,” Margaret announced when we got back in the car.
I’d hoped she’d drop this and should have known better. “They won’t let us see him,” I said. “Why are we doing this, anyway?”
My sister ignored me. She was on a mission, which did not include informing me of her reasons. And little things like steel bars and gun-toting guards weren’t about to slow her down.
Finding a parking spot and getting into the facility wasn’t a task for the weak-willed. I was astonished by all the regulations we had to observe just to talk to an official.
When we finally met with a corrections officer, Margaret got straight to the point. “Can I see Daniel Chesterfield?” she asked.
He looked at her as if she’d requested an audience with the Pope. “No.” He didn’t elaborate. “It’s way past visiting hours,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “In case you ladies didn’t realize it, this is a correctional facility. Otherwise known as a jail. Mr. Chesterfield has been indicted on a class one felony charge.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Margaret didn’t spare any pity for Danny Chesterfield. “Could you give him something for me, then?”
“Lady, listen, I’m sure you mean well but—”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t mean him well. I couldn’t be happier that he’s behind bars. I also know I can’t allow my feelings toward this man to eat away at me any longer.” She pulled a package from her large purse and literally shoved it at the corrections officer.
“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously.
“It’s a prayer shawl,” Margaret explained. “I knit it myself. Give it to him and tell him…tell him,” Margaret said in a choked voice, “tell Mr. Chesterfield I’m trying very hard to forgive him for what he did to my daughter. I’m praying for him and I’m praying for me because it isn’t easy, you know?”
So that was it. This was why Margaret had wanted to see Danny Chesterfield. To give him the prayer shawl. I blinked back tears, moved by how far my sister had come. Difficult as it was for her, she’d taken Julia’s words to heart.
I put my arm around her.
The correction officer’s attitude changed instantly. “You don’t know, do you?”
Margaret wiped her eyes as if it were a crime to reveal emotion. She shook her head mutely.
“Danny Chesterfield was in a car accident,” he told us.
“That was reported in the paper,” I answered for Margaret.
“What wasn’t reported is that he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
Margaret froze and stared up at the officer.
“He suffered a spinal cord injury. He’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”
We left King County Jail soon afterward. Margaret seemed deep in thought as we walked to the parking lot and her car.
“I wouldn’t have wished that on him,” she said quietly.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” I told her.
Until recently I would not have believed that. Now I did.
CHAPTER 39
Alix Townsend Turner
Grandma Turner’s funeral was truly a beautiful event, Alix thought. She hadn’t known what to expect. Like so much else in life, she’d never experienced a real funeral. Even when her only brother died of an overdose, there’d been no one but her to mourn his passing. No one to pay for his burial, either, so it had fallen to the government. Her brother had been cremated and his ashes placed in a common grave without a marker. All Alix ever knew was the name of the cemetery where Tom’s ashes were kept.
Alix had assumed that at Sarah Turner’s funeral there’d be lots of sadness and tears. While that was true, and almost everyone wept, the mood was joyful, more like a celebration of a life well-lived, a woman well-loved.
Long before she died, Grandma Turner had made all her own burial arrangements, so the decisions hadn’t been left to her children. She’d given specific instructions on which songs to sing and what Scripture verses to read. The only thing she hadn’t indicated was which clothes she wanted to be buried in and that was decided by her two daughters-in-law.
Alix and Jordan had arrived back from Canada in time for the viewing, the night before the services. This was an unfamiliar ritual for Alix. In her heart she knew Jordan’s grandmother had been ready to die, ready for her heavenly reward. What she hadn’t expected was the rush of emotion as she approached the casket, hand in hand with her husband. Large floral arrangements surrounded it and when Alix looked down on this woman she’d come to love, she’d had to blink back sudden tears. Jordan’s family had chosen to bury their mother in a lovely blue dress. They’d tucked Alix’s prayer shawl around her shoulders.
Alix was moved by that.
Susan Turner came to stand next to her.
“Thank you,” Alix whispered, barely able to speak.
