At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,17

a stop and Gracie closed her eyes as it fishtailed wildly across the icy road. Daddy hadn't been like this in a long time and it scared her. He turned around in his seat and looked at Gracie. "Let me see that sweater."

She clung to it more tightly. "It's mine."

Gramma Del poked her again. "Let your daddy see it."

"No," Gracie said. "Noah's mommy gave it to me. It's mine."

"The hell it is." Ben leaned over the back of his seat and snatched the sweater from Gracie who let out a high keening wail. He gunned the engine and started back in the opposite direction.

"Where are we going?" Gramma Del asked. She sounded as scared as Gracie felt.

"Where the hell do you think we're going?" he shot back. "We're going to return that goddamn sweater."

#

Ruth was just about to serve the cake and cookies when the doorbell rang. She put down the tray, carefully wiped her hands on a linen dishtowel, and moved swiftly through the long hallway toward the front door. She heard Simon entertaining their guests in the front room with stories about Noah's tour de force appearance as Joseph in tonight's Christmas pageant at the school. She smiled at the note of justifiable pride in his voice. Noah was the light of his father's life, the reason he got up in the morning, the reason for the long hours spent at the Gazette, building a future for the boy who would carry on his name.

She wouldn't dwell on the dark years before Noah. What was done, was done. They were a family now and nothing would ever change that. Out of terrible pain had come their greatest pleasure and Ruth believed it had been worth every year of struggle.

He was such a popular little boy. It made her heart sing to watch the way the other children seemed to flock to him. He was a natural leader. Anyone could see that. She probably shouldn't have singled out Gracie Taylor the way she had, but she told herself nobody had seen her hand the gaily-wrapped package to the little girl. There was something so touching about Gracie. She clung to Ruth's hand each afternoon as if she never wanted to let go. The poor thing was starved for a mother's love and Ruth felt guilty for every day of happiness she had been afforded. Her own life had been restored to her the day Mona Taylor died, but at such a terrible cost to the child.

The doorbell rang again and she bit back the slightest prickle of annoyance. Some people had no patience, but not Ruth. She knew how to wait. She had been practicing for most of her life. She ran a quick hand through her hair, blessing Alma at the Idle Point Beauty Salon, then swung open the door.

Ben Taylor stood there on the top step with the snow swirling around him. He looked almost violent and she took a step back.

"Ben," she said in her most polite and controlled voice. She prayed Simon hadn't heard the doorbell ring. "Can I help you?"

He tossed the sweater she'd picked out for Gracie at her feet.

"Graciela isn't a charity case," he all but spat in her face. "You can shove your presents up your—"

"Is there a problem?" Simon appeared at her side and Ruth's knees almost gave way.

"Stay away from Graciela," Ben said, leveling a dangerous look at Simon.

Simon's expression gave away nothing. He took in the man on the doorstep, the ruined sweater lying in the snow, the ashen look on Ruth's face, in an instant.

"You have thirty seconds to leave," Simon said in a pleasant tone of voice. "If not, I'll call the police."

"There's been a misunderstanding," Ruth said as she picked up the sweater and brushed off the snow with trembling fingers. "This was just a little token of friendship from Noah. Nothing more."

"Stay away from Graciela," Ben repeated, "or I swear to God, I'll—" He stopped cold and Ruth murmured a silent prayer of thanks. She knew her husband. One more word and he would have had Ben Taylor behind bars before the next snowflake fell.

"Fifteen seconds," Simon said, still sounding pleasant and in control.

"She's mine," Ben said. "Remember that. Mine and Mona's."

His words found their mark. Simon's mask slipped just long enough for his wife to see his pain. Not even death could break the hold Mona Taylor had on these two men.

Ruth went back inside the house. She knew it would be a