In Every Heartbeat - By Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,82
she whispered, “Yes you do, Petey. Pray.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When Petey’s eyes slid closed, Libby closed hers, too, and she listened to his prayer, repeating each phrase in her heart. He asked for strength for Oscar, wisdom for himself, and justice from the court system. She stumbled over his final request. Justice— did that mean meting out punishment? Sometimes the punishment was more severe than what was warranted. Eyes scrunched closed, her hands holding tight to Petey’s, she willed, Even more than justice, let compassion reign, God.
Petey ended the prayer on a ragged note of thanksgiving, and Libby opened her eyes. He offered her a weak smile. “You need to go back to Alice-Marie’s now. Let’s hail a cab.”
She rose when he did, but she resisted moving to the curb.
“Can’t I stay with you?” He would surely go up to his parents’ apartment now, and she wanted to be with him.
“No, Libby. I need to do this myself.”
“Please? I promise I won’t say a word. I won’t interfere in any way, no matter what.” If she had to bite on her tongue and sit on her hands the whole time, she’d keep her promise. “After talking to Oscar . . . and hearing everything he said about your father . . .” She swallowed, fear making perspiration form across her back. Could she face this man she envisioned as an unfeeling monster? “I would feel better if I went up with you. I don’t think you should see him alone.”
“And what are you going to tell Alice-Marie? She won’t believe you took a two-hour bath.”
Libby hung her head. “It will probably end any hope of them forgiving me or trusting me again, but I’ll tell them the truth. That I sneaked over here to tell you about your brother.”
Petey cringed. “My brother . . . the convicted murderer.” Letting his head drop back, he released a heavy sigh. “Alice-Marie will probably tell everyone on campus about this—you know how she likes to talk. Everyone will find out about Oscar. What if that prevents me from becoming a minister?”
“That won’t happen!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because . . . because . . .” Libby spluttered for a reason. Her conversation with Petey in the barn on Matt and Lorna’s wedding day flitted through her mind. Although he’d crushed her with his words then, she now said them back to him. “Because you’ve been called to it, and God will make sure it happens.”
His smile rewarded her. “Thank you, Libby.”
“You’re welcome. Now . . .” She clasped her hands and pressed her knuckles to her chin. “Are you going to let me go with you when you see your folks?”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I think it would be easier to give in to you than to keep arguing.” He took her hand and turned toward the building. “When we’re finished here, I’ll go with you to Alice-Marie’s and see if I can help smooth any ruffled feathers.”
Hand-in-hand, they made their way up a narrow, dark stairway littered with trash. Libby steeled herself against the mingled odors of sweat, overcooked cabbage, and sewer. How could people live this way? Although she’d often thought Mrs. Rowley too meticulous about housekeeping, she now appreciated the clean, fresh-smelling home the woman had provided. She vowed her own home—when she had one—would be a pleasant place for everyone who entered.
“This is it.” Petey gestured to a door to the right of the second-floor landing. Murmuring voices came from behind the door. One deep and gruff-sounding, and one high-pitched, almost whiny. Petey sucked in a big breath, lifted his hand, and banged his fist against the scarred wood three times.
“Who is it?” the deeper voice boomed.
Petey cleared his throat and leaned close to the door. The grip on her hand tightened. “It’s Pete, Pa. Your son.”
A long silence fell. Then someone barked, “I got no son named Pete. Go away.”
A woman’s voice wailed, a man’s voice ordered her to silence, and soft sobbing carried into the hallway.
Petey pressed his palm to the door. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” His voice sounded sure, strong, but his hand within hers trembled. Libby gave it a reassuring squeeze. He glanced at her briefly, thanking her with his eyes, and added, “I can stand out here all night if need be. You’ll have to walk past me in the morning, so you might as well open up.”
A child’s voice cried, “Let ’im in, Pa! He said he’d come back!