Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

with Daddy and Mama in the front room of the house. I didn’t mention Oscar Callahan’s opinion. “I know it sounds strange, but they believe I’ll get clearer direction if I come to Savannah and pray about it there. I’m not sure what to think.”
    “They’re right. What time do you want me to pick you up?” Zach responded.
    “What?”
    “How are you going to get to Savannah if I don’t come and get you? I can leave work early on Friday and be there by mid-afternoon. You could probably stay with Mrs. Fairmont.”
    The previous summer I’d lived with Margaret Fairmont, a wealthy widow who owned a beautiful home in the historic district.
    “I could call her,” I answered slowly. “Or maybe I should check with her daughter.”
    “If that doesn’t work out, I’d be glad to pay for a hotel room.”
    “No,” I answered quickly. “I’ll check with Mrs. Fairmont and let you know.”
    “Okay. I hope I get to see you.”
    We ended the call. I glanced at the clock. It was after 9:00 p.m., which meant nothing to Mrs. Fairmont. The aristocratic old woman suffered from multi-infarct dementia, a condition characterized by ministrokes that was slowly eroding her mind. She might go to sleep after supper, wake up at 10:00 p.m. and go back to bed at 2:00 a.m., or completely reverse the schedule. I dialed her number. The phone rang five times.
    “Hello,” a vibrant Southern voice answered.
    It was Christine Bartlett, Mrs. Fairmont’s daughter.
    “Mrs. Bartlett, it’s Tami Taylor,” I began. “I was wondering—”
    “Why am I not surprised?” Mrs. Bartlett interrupted. “You must be psychic. Mother and I were talking about you not five minutes ago. She doesn’t send out many Christmas cards anymore, but she is insisting that I add your name to her list this year. The problem is she doesn’t have your address at school or at home. That’s a huge oversight on her part. In the old days she would have written down all your contact information before you left town. What’s the name of the place you’re from in the mountains? Possum Station?”
    “Powell Station.”
    “Of course, it wouldn’t be something vulgar. Anyway, I have a pen in my hand ready for the information.”
    I gave her both addresses and my phone number.
    “Excellent. Mother’s had quite a few good days thrown into the mix since you left. Tonight is one of the best. We had a glass of wine after supper, and it didn’t put her to sleep in ten minutes. Instead, she started talking about you. Did you ever sample the Bordeaux we ordered from New York? It was such a bargain at two hundred dollars a bottle that Ken and I bought six. Mother and I opened the last one this evening.”
    “No, ma’am. I don’t drink.”
    “Or have a cell phone either, if I recall. None of my friends could believe a smart young woman like you preferred to stay in the dark ages of communication. But overall, you had a positive influence on Mother. She’s been nicer to me, which has helped a lot since there’s so much I have to give up in order to look after her. One of Gracie’s nieces, a young woman I didn’t even know existed, is spending four days a week at the house. She goes to school at night and uses the days to study. She’s not you, but at least she’s a warm body who’s able to make sure Mother doesn’t fall down the stairs and break her hip or trip over that rat of a dog that is always underfoot.”
    Gracie had been Mrs. Fairmont’s housekeeper for years. Flip, a Chihuahua, was the love of Mrs. Fairmont’s life. I could hear Flip barking in the background.
    “It’s Tami Taylor,” Mrs. Bartlett called out. “Can’t you keep that dog quiet while someone is on the phone?”
    There was momentary silence, then the barking resumed.
    “I’ll ask her,” Mrs. Bartlett continued as an aside, then spoke into the phone. “Mother wants to invite you for a visit. I know you’re busy at school and probably don’t have time to run down here for a