Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(199)

“You won’t get a miracle from her!” Carol’s dark eyes bore into Rachel’s, and her sharp features twisted with consternation. “Do you have any idea how much this family has suffered? How could you raise their hopes like this?”

Rachel began to deny that she’d done any such thing, but Carol wasn’t finished. “How much are you charging them? I’ll bet you put a big price tag on your prayers.”

“I don’t have any prayers,” Rachel replied honestly. She took a deep breath and gazed directly at Emily’s grandmother. “I’m sorry I can’t help you, but I’m no longer a believer.”

“As if you ever were,” Carol retorted.

But Fran merely smiled and regarded Rachel with deep compassion. “If you look into your heart, Mrs. Snopes, you’ll know that’s not true. Don’t turn your back on us. My own prayers tell me that you can help Emily.”

“But I can’t!”

“You won’t know until you’ve tried. Would you just go see her?”

“No. I won’t give you false hopes.”

“Pull out your checkbook, Fran,” Carol said. “She’ll change her mind.”

For a woman who was supposed to be filled with the love of God, Carol’s heart seemed to hold only bitterness. In Rachel’s years at the Temple, she had seen many Carols, deeply religious men and women who were so judgmental and unyielding that all the joy had been snuffed from them.

Rachel was a good biblical scholar, and she understood what had happened to people like Carol. In their theology, everyone was inherently wicked, and only by being constantly on guard against the forces of evil could there be any hope for eternal life. For those like Carol, belief became a source of unending anxiety.

She’d seen those like Fran at the Temple, too—people who shone with an inner light. It never occurred to the Frans of the world to look for wickedness in others. They were too busy dispensing love, compassion, and forgiveness.

Ironically, Dwayne had been frustrated by Christians like Fran. He believed they lacked vigilance in the fight against the devil, and he feared for their souls.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

Gabe stepped forward. “Ladies, you’ll have to excuse us, but we need to look for Rachel’s wallet. She lost it a little earlier.” He nodded at them and drew her away.

Rachel was grateful. She knew he didn’t understand what had happened, but, once again, he had sensed her distress and intervened.

“I didn’t realize you knew Fran Thayer,” he said as they passed the charcoal pit.

“Is that her last name? She didn’t tell me.”

“What’s going on?”

She explained.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to go see her granddaughter,” he said when she was done.

“It would be unconscionable. I’m not a hypocrite.”

For a moment she thought he would argue with her, but he didn’t. Instead, he gestured toward one of the tents. “It seems to me we were over there when you got bumped. Let me ask around.”

He returned a few minutes later, and even before he spoke, she knew the news wasn’t good. “Maybe somebody will turn it in to the police later,” he said to console her.

She forced a smile they both knew was false.

“Maybe.”

He brushed his knuckles gently down the side of her jaw. “Let’s go on back to the cottage. I think we’ve all had enough for today.”


She nodded, and the three of them set off.





? ? ?



As they moved away, Russ Scudder stepped out from behind the lemonade concession. He waited until they had disappeared then pulled Rachel’s wallet from inside the empty popcorn box he’d been carrying around and removed the money.

Forty-three dollars. Too bad there wasn’t more. He stared at the wrinkled bills, tossed the wallet into the nearest trash can, then wandered toward the table the Humane Society had set up.

Earlier, Carl Painter had been asking people for donations, but Russ ignored the container decorated with a picture of a sad-eyed dog. Instead, he slipped the forty-three dollars into the plastic cylinder that sat next to it, the one marked Emily’s Fund.





That night, Rachel read Edward Stellaluna for the hundredth time. The beautifully illustrated story dealt with a baby bat separated from his mother and raised by birds with sleeping and eating habits different from his own. When she was done with the book, Edward took Horse’s ear out of his mouth and looked up at her, his too-old eyes worried. “Stellaluna’s mommy got in a accident, and then they didn’t see each other for a long time.”

“But they found each other at the end.”

“I guess.”

She knew her answer hadn’t satisfied him. He had no father, no house, no extended family. He was just beginning to realize she was his only stability.

After she’d tucked him in, she went out to the kitchen and saw Gabe standing by the back door. He turned when he heard her, and she watched as his hand slid into his pocket. He withdrew several bills and gave them to her.

She counted out fifty dollars. “What’s this?”

“A bonus. You’ve done a lot of work that isn’t in your job description. It’s only fair.”