Page 111 of A Whim and a Prayer

Rising, Mrs. Cullen began to pace, fidgeting with that silly purse so much, Charity thought it might disintegrate on the spot. “You see, I was a lot like Winnie as a young teen, battling a stutter just like she did, so I couldn’t help taking a special interest in her. Couldn’t help wanting to reach out.”

She stopped to look up with a plea in her eyes. “I sense your hostility toward me, Mrs. Dennehy, so I hope that somehow, someway, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for causing any rift between you two.”

Charity sat up, eyes in a squint. “You knew about the clashes between Winnie and me?”

Mrs. Cullen offered a sheepish nod. “Yes, because Winnie talked to me about everything, I’m afraid. I guess you could say I was more of a big sister than a teacher.”

Charity could only stare, battling to keep her hostility from pushing past the clench of her teeth. She clamped her lips hard. A little help here, God?

“So I came to apologize—to you and to Winnie—for playing a part in this awful trauma.” She sat down on the sofa once more, her shoulders so stooped and dejected, Charity began to feel sorry for her.

“Mrs. Cullen …” Charity reached out a hand, her tone softened considerably through the grace of God. “Yes, you encouraged Winnie to join The Footlight Club, which is something I never felt she was mature enough for, but you also brought a lot of good into her life. Without you, she never would have realized her potential in drama, which not only helped raise her confidence, but it set her totally free from that awful stutter. So for that, I am forever grateful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dennehy—that means the world to me.” She peered up through eyes so swollen and red that Charity wanted to give her a hug, but she refrained. “But like you, I should have known better since I knew of her infatuation with Brayden—”

“You knew?” Charity leaned in, thoughts of a hug now veering more toward a headlock. “That Winnie was obsessed with that boy? For the love of all that is decent and good, Mrs. Cullen, I didn’t find out that boy was part of The Footlight Club until after he molested my daughter!” She slowly rose to her feet, limbs suddenly shaking with rage. “If I had known that, I would have never agreed, but you!”—she stabbed a finger at the woman—“You, the revered mentor and teacher she put on a pedestal, you knew and encouraged it anyway?”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Mrs. Cullen said, tears making a comeback, “I was wrong—”

“Oh, well now, there’s an understatement!” Charity locked her arms in a fierce hold to keep from some hairpulling of the past.

“But I thought it would be good for her, give her more confidence and help her to grow and mature—”

“Yes, well it certainly did that, Mrs. Cullen—Winnie had to grow up overnight, in one of the most painful ways I can imagine—”

Mrs. Cullen shot to her feet, the pain and tragedy in her eyes no longer softening Charity one bit. “You have to understand, Mrs. Dennehy, I only wanted the best for her ...”

Charity leaned in with fists clenched, fury flashing hot in her eyes. “And what on God’s green earth made you think you knew what’s best for my daughter, Mrs. Cullen?”

“Because I told you,” she said in a rush, “I saw in Winnie the same things I struggled with as a teen, and I thought I could help.” The muscles in her throat contracted several times as she lifted her head to lock eyes with Charity, shoulders suddenly squared despite the trembling of her lips. “And because, Mrs. Dennehy…” she whispered with a catch in her throat, “Winnie is my daughter.”

Chapter Seventy-Six

“I miss you.”

Winnie lay in her bed, half asleep, half awake, eyes closed as she tried to determine just why there was such a heavy weight on her chest. Even her eyelids were heavy, unwilling to rise to a new day.

A new year.

“I’d … really like to come, Winnie, but I’m afraid I already have plans.”

Emitting a tiny groan, she rolled on her side, fully awake now and eyes finally open. Open wide to the strange reality that for the first time in fifteen years, other than Beck’s short stint in the Marines, she’d begun a new year without her best friend. Without Beck.

Prophetic?

“What do you mean you can’t come to the football and poker get-together on New Year’s Day?” she’d asked when he’d given her the bad news after church on Sunday. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer right away, but she saw his jaw working in profile as they sat together on the front-porch swing.

“Beck?”

He turned then, his eyes tender with regret. “I’m sorry, Winnie, but I work on New Year’s Day this year.” His Adam’s apple took a dip. “A favor for a friend.”

She wagged a finger at him with a playful frown. “You, Beckett Campbell, are just too nice for your own good—and mine!” She reached up to deposit a kiss to his cheek. “But I forgive you—as long as you come over after, understood? I’ll keep a plate warm in the oven.”

He scratched the back of his neck with an awkward smile. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t make that either because you see …” He hesitated before his gaze met hers in apology. “I have a date with Cari Lee.”

She blinked, mouth dropping open in slow motion. “Two nights in a row? After you ditched my party for hers? And now ditching the family function you come to every year?” Her brow crimped in hurt. “Why would you do that, Beck?”