Free Echoes of Mercy: A Novel by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

said, “I’ll take it to her, Kesia. We work the same shift at the factory.”
    “That sounds fine.” Kesia plopped the packet into Oliver’s waiting hands. “She’s a right nice young lady. An’ the way she set into her supper, I’m thinkin’ she doesn’t eat proper.” Her wattle jiggled as she lifted her chin high. “But if shecomes here again, I’m gonna offer to teach her how to cook a thing or two so she can see to her own needs. Ain’t right bein’ her age an’ not able to fend for herself around a cookstove.” She turned and headed back to her kitchen.
    His feet moving slowly, Oliver returned to his stool and sat. Questions cluttered his mind, questions he felt certain Carrie would avoid answering. But he wanted to know. Because if she was all he suspected her of being, he’d take her home and introduce her to his parents as soon as he could end his charade.

Caroline
    Caroline reached the boarding hotel, closed herself in the little cubby containing the hotel’s lone telephone, and called Noble. As wonderful as it was to hear his familiar voice—a voice that had calmed her nightmares, patiently delivered lessons, and encouraged her to seek God’s way above all others—she kept the call short. Partly because she had little of a professional nature to share other than she’d been hired. But mostly because Noble knew her well. His investigative skills combined with his deep affection for her would surely detect her confusion concerning Ollie Moore. And she wasn’t ready to talk about the strange attraction she felt toward Ollie. Not even with her beloved mentor.
    “Keep your journal, as I know you will,” Noble said, his deep voice more fatherly than authoritative as it crackled through the line, “and call again Saturday evening. Maybe by then you’ll have uncovered some tidbit that will help us learn what happened to Harmon.”
    A quick resolution was always the commission’s preference. But Caroline realized a quick resolution meant moving on to the next job. For the first time in the nearly seven years she had posed as a factory worker to explore firsthand the working conditions, she had no burning passion to finish and move on. What odd hold did this place … or its people … have on her?
    “Rest well tonight, Caroline.” Noble’s kind blessing warmed her heart.
    She hugged the telephone earpiece tight against her head. Although an illusive something held her here, she missed Noble and his sweet wife—the bestpeople she’d ever known. “Thank you, Noble. Greet Annamarie for me, and tell her I’ve found a wonderful little café where I can take my meals.”
    A laugh came from the other end of the line. “She still intends to make a decent cook of you someday. But I’ll tell her. Good-bye.”
    “Good-bye.” Caroline placed the earpiece in its cradle and climbed the stairs to her third-floor, one-room apartment, her leg muscles protesting the entire way. She always requested the least ostentatious accommodations, claiming it cut costs, but Noble knew the truth. Why put her in a full-size apartment with a kitchen that wouldn’t be used? She was a terrible cook. But not even Noble knew the reason why she resisted time in a kitchen.
    She pushed the memories aside and moved to the little desk in the corner, determined to focus on her purpose for being in Sinclair. She opened her journal and recorded the day’s feeble findings and her expenses. As she wrote “Dinner at Durham’s Café, $1,” she gasped. She’d asked Kesia to make her a lunch, but then, trying to escape Ollie Moore and his question, she’d left without waiting for it.
    Recalling the look of elation on Ollie’s face—and it had been elation, not surprise—when he’d accused her of being educated, she closed her eyes and swallowed a mournful moan. His esteem for her had gone up, and she’d gloried in it. But then she’d instinctively told him the truth. She was not educated. At least not in the way