Jeannette had no idea how long she sat there, but the faint hum of an approaching car engine at last prompted her to check her watch.
Wow.
Had she really zoned out for half an hour?
Hard to believe.
And while she was no closer to an answer than she’d been when she arrived, at least her soul felt refreshed.
She rose and returned to the parking lot, where Father Murphy was removing his golf clubs from the trunk of his car.
“Jeannette! I wondered who was enjoying my tiny slice of paradise.” He beamed at her.
“That’s an apt description for it.” She dug her keys out of her purse. “I hope I wasn’t trespassing.”
“Not at all.” He closed the trunk and slung his bag over his shoulder. “As the sign says, all are welcome. The beauty of nature is nonsectarian.” He winked at her. “And the garden is a wonderful spot for contemplation and reflection. I often come out here to work on my homilies.”
“I can see why. How was your golf game?”
He grimaced. “Sad to say, your fine minister won today’s round. However . . . there’s always next week. I can’t change the past, but I have hopes for the future. That’s the beauty of tomorrow—it offers you the possibility of a better day.” He motioned toward the garden. “I hope I didn’t run you off.”
“No. I have to get home. But I enjoyed my visit.”
“I’m glad. Come anytime. In general, you’ll have the place to yourself.” Hefting his clubs into a different position, he lifted his hand in farewell and sauntered toward the rectory.
She continued to her car, and as she took her place behind the wheel and slid the key into the ignition, the priest’s comment about hopes for the future replayed in her mind.
It was kind of the same message she’d heard from Charley on Sunday.
Were those two kindly souls perhaps heavensent messengers? Was God giving her the guidance she’d requested via a taco-making artist and a priest?
Or was that a stretch? After all, the conversations she’d had with them could be nothing more than coincidence.
Yet it didn’t feel like mere happenstance.
Whatever the precipitating factors, however, the end result was the same.
They’d forced her to think hard about the opportunity on her doorstep—literally—with Logan . . . and to reconsider the plan she’d outlined for her life.
But unless she could tame the paralyzing fear that gripped her in a choke hold, she’d never be able to risk taking the leap to love.
“You are being a good dog, Toby—yes?”
Mariam paused in her weeding of the overgrown flower bed behind Logan’s house and reached out to pet the hovering pup.
He sat on his haunches, cocked his head, and gave her a goofy dog grin.
“I will take that as a yes. And you stay out of this garden, or you will have to answer to Thomma.”
The pup might not have a clue what she was saying—but it was the same warning she’d given him every day since she’d started the project, and so far he’d left the plot alone.
She sat back on her heels and surveyed the garden. It had been long neglected, but someone in the past had planted it with care. Under the tangle of weeds, she was unearthing botanical treasures.
Not that Logan expected her to do this kind of labor. While he’d assured her he appreciated her efforts, he’d reminded her often that this wasn’t part of her job description.
But the task kept her busy while the girls napped, and the fresh air was invigorating. The exercise was also beneficial. Even back home, she’d always loved to tend her garden. And while the flowers here were different than the ones that flourished in Syria, digging in the earth and watching plants thrive gave her joy and fed her soul.
The rest would have to wait for another day, though. It was time to get the girls up, prepare a snack, and play some games with them until Logan returned from the urgent care center.
Also a joyful task.
Who wouldn’t enjoy interacting with the two delightful girls?
Other than her granddaughter’s own father.
A pang echoed through Mariam as she pushed herself to her feet and steadied herself on the chair she’d placed beside her.
Nothing had changed after their talk last week. She’d hoped a kinder, gentler approach would reach Thomma, but he hadn’t mentioned their conversation once or warmed up to Elisa.
And she had no idea what to try next.
Toby bounded over as she brushed the dirt off her slacks, and she gave him a distracted pet.
Those two girls inside could use some of his boundless energy and enthusiasm. They were both far too solemn and quiet.
“You want to come in or stay outside?” Mariam tossed the question to the dog as she ascended the steps.
He dashed over and scrambled up past her.
She chuckled. “I guess that is my answer.”
The instant she opened the door, he zipped through and charged down the hall.
No reason for her to follow and wake the girls. Toby would take care of that job.
As she closed the door and moved over to the counter, the beagle began to bark.
Mariam frowned.
He’d been much less prone to yap for no reason since Thomma had begun training him. Why would he revert to his old ways now?
“Toby! Kunn hadyaan!” Hopefully her son’s magic command would quiet him and he’d come running for a treat.
It didn’t work today.
She huffed out a breath.
Were the girls egging him on?
That wasn’t their usual style—but who knew what the two of them were up to, after that cookie pilfering stunt they’d pulled earlier in the week? It was fortunate she’d found the stash they’d been hoarding in Molly’s bedroom, or one of these days she’d have been dealing with two very sick youngsters after a cookie orgy.
“Toby! Come in here!”
He hurtled back down the hall and began dancing around her legs, barking at full volume.
She put her hands over her ears. “What is wrong with you today? Be quiet!”
He ran over to the hall, turned to her, and continued to bark.
When she didn’t respond, he dashed back and nipped at her pants leg.
“Toby! Stop that!” She waved him off.
He tried again, this time tugging on the fabric. Like he wanted her to follow him.
“Fine. I’ll come. I need to see what those girls are up to.”
He ran ahead, disappeared into Molly’s room—and fell silent.
At the threshold, she found him waiting beside the bed, panting as he twisted his head back and forth.
Now she understood what this was all about.
The girls weren’t in the room.
A tingle of panic raced along her spine.
But they had to be here somewhere.
They must be playing a game. Hiding and waiting for her to find them.
“Elisa! Molly! Come out!”
Even as she issued the order, her stomach began to churn.
And the roiling worsened after she looked in the closet, peered under the bed, and broadened her search to the whole house with no results.
If the girls were inside, they’d hidden themselves well.
She did another circuit, noting details that hadn’t registered on her first pass.
A slightly open drawer in Molly’s dresser.