Page 643 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Julie turned to Sydney.

“It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Sydney said.

Julie sighed. “I do.” She pointed at her stomach. “This makes number four.”

The woman couldn’t be much older than she, and she couldn’t imagine having one child, much less four.

Julie smiled brightly. “Are you visiting?”

“I live in Stoney Creek.”

“That’s great. Come on, and I’ll take you to the women’s class.” Julie’s friendly manner was infectious, and Sydney started to relax.

Sydney would rather have sat in the back, but Julie led her to the front row. There were about eight or nine other women in the room whose ages ranged anywhere between mid-twenties to seventies. A blonde with short wavy hair was conducting. She looked very stylish in her tailored navy suit. A song was sung and then a prayer was given, and then it was time for the blonde lady to speak again. She looked at Sydney and smiled.

“I want to welcome our visitor.”

Before Sydney could introduce herself, Julie spoke up. “Sydney’s not a visitor. She lives in Stoney Creek and will be attending church with us.”

This brought a wide smile from the lady. “That’s fantastic. We love having new members to join us. Would you please stand and tell us where you’re from and a little about yourself?”

Sydney cleared her throat. “Um, my name is Sydney Lassiter. I’m from Ft. Worth, Texas. I live in Stoney Creek. I’m the safety coordinator at the sawmill.”

“Welcome,” the lady said. “We look forward to getting to know you.”

Sydney sat down, and Julie leaned over and whispered. “You’ll have to meet Tuesday Phillips. She’s the older lady in the back with the light blue blouse and white skirt.” Sydney fought the urge to look. “Her husband used to work at the sawmill.” Julie’s whisper grew softer. “He was killed in an accident there.”

Another lady stood and began teaching the lesson, but Sydney hardly noticed. Her throat had gone dry, and her mind was reeling with the possibility. Phillips! Avery mentioned Buford Phillips in his journal, and then there was the accident report. Someone else besides Avery had added that Buford Phillips had been drinking. Could it be the same person? Sydney’s heart was pounding. She leaned over and whispered in Julie’s ear. “What was his first name?”

Julie looked confused. “Who?”

“Mrs.—I mean—Sister Phillips’ husband.”

Julie paused. Finally she shook her head. “Sorry. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember.”

It was all Sydney could do to hide her frustration. She looked up at the lady who was teaching the lesson and stared right through her, her mind a thousand miles away.

Fifteen minutes later, Julie nudged Sydney. “Buford,” she whispered. “His name was Buford.”

After the class was over,Sydney made her way to the back of the room where Mrs. Phillips was standing. She wasn’tsure how to approach the woman and hoped the words would come.

Mrs. Phillips’ warm smile was a good sign. She was at least a head shorter than Sydney, and her spiky gray hair shot out like a porcupine. She was as round as she was tall, reminding Sydney of a weeble wobble toy.

Sydney extended her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said and then plunged right in. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m the new safety coordinator at the mill. Sister Parkinson told me that your husband used to work at the sawmill.”

The smile on Mrs. Phillips’ face faltered, and her face grew clouded. She nodded.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you sometime about it.”

Mrs. Phillips shook her head. “That was a long time ago. I’m trying to put all of that behind me. I’m sure you can understand.” The woman turned to leave, but Sydney touched her on the arm.

“Please.” Her voice came out hoarse. “I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

Mrs. Phillips studied her. “Okay,” the older woman finally said.

“Can I stop by and see you this afternoon?” Sydney was unable to hide the eagerness that crept into her voice.

“No, today’s not a good time.”

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