The Wonder of Your Love - By Beth Wiseman Page 0,82
recalling how she had to find the Lord in her own time, knowing that everything ultimately happens on God’s timetable.
She’d just shoved a handful of Fritos into her mouth when she heard a car pull up. No one she recognized, and from the looks of it . . . no one she knew. A woman dressed in tan slacks and a dark brown coat held her hand in front of her face to block the light snow flurries. Martha had the door open by the time she was about to knock.
She was an attractive woman, midthirties, Martha guessed. She wasn’t smiling.
“Are you Martha Dobbs?”
Martha gave her a critical squint. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m—I’m looking for someone. I think she might be here. My name’s Vivian Kent.”
Martha raised her chin and eyeballed the woman for a moment. “Who ya looking for?”
Vivian pulled a photograph from her purse. “Have you seen this girl?”
Martha stared at the picture of Danielle. “Who are you to her?”
“I’m her mother.”
Seventeen
MARTHA PULLED THE DOOR WIDE. “COME IN. YES, Danielle is here.” She wasn’t sure what she was most upset about, the fact that the woman might have her arrested for harboring a runaway, or that Danielle had lied to her. “Danielle said her parents were dead.”
Vivian folded her hands in front of her and sighed. “I’m not surprised. We’ve had a lot of trouble with Danielle.”
Martha could believe that. The girl was willful.
“She’s upstairs taking a shower. She should be down in a minute.”
Martha felt a wave of relief. Apparently she hadn’t been called by the Lord to straighten out young Danielle. And she wouldn’t have to worry about her and Arnold taking on parental roles at their ages. What a mess that would have been.
“Can I get you a soda? Some tea?”
Vivian sat down. In Martha’s recliner. Martha fought the urge to ask her to move.
“No, I’m fine. How long has Danielle been here?”
“Oh, a week or two.” Martha scowled. “How long has she been missing?”
“Since the hospital. We traveled here from Wisconsin to visit a friend, and then Danielle ended up in the hospital.” Vivian hung her head and sighed. “When I couldn’t find her, I eventually had to go home.”
“Did you call the police, report her missing?” Martha was sitting on the edge of the couch, hands folded in her lap, wondering how Vivian could have left the state not knowing where her daughter was.
“I—I couldn’t really call the police. Danielle’s been in trouble with the police before.”
“Why does that matter? Someone beat the life out of her.” Martha leaned forward. “Who did that to her?”
Vivian swiped at her eye. “I don’t know. I went out with friends, and when I got back to our hotel room, she—she . . .” The woman folded an arm across her stomach as she looked at the floor.
Martha wasn’t sure what to say, but trouble or no trouble, someone should have called the law.
Vivian straightened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that Danielle showed up here and bothered you.”
“She’s no bother,” Martha said. “How did you find me, anyway? I mean, I know how Danielle found me. She took an identification card out of my wallet. I was her roommate in the hospital. Hey—I don’t remember seeing you at the hospital.”
“I was there.” Vivian smiled.
Really? “I never saw you.”
Vivian fumbled with a button on her coat. “You—you were sleeping.”
“Oh.” Martha was thinking that if it had been Katie Ann in that predicament, she’d have never left her side. But she sighed, knowing that everyone wasn’t so thoughtful.
“And Danielle eventually called a friend of hers back home and told her where she was. The friend’s mother knew how frantic I was, so she phoned me right away.” Vivian dabbed at her eyes. “All I knew was that Danielle was here in Canaan. I’ve been asking around and showing her picture for two days, and finally someone recognized her—an Amish girl named Beth Ann said she was staying here.”
Martha nodded, then pointed to Vivian’s ring, a big gold thing on her right ring finger. There was a time when Martha used to adore big, clunky jewelry. “Nice ring.”
“Thanks. It was a gift.”
Martha stood up when she heard footsteps heading down the stairs. So did Vivian.
“You’ve got company, Danielle,” Martha said, ready for her lying houseguest to go. What kind of kid says her parents are dead? She shook her head.
“Hi, Dani.”
Vivian didn’t run up to Danielle as Martha expected, and Danielle turned pale as a ghost, her feet rooted to