For the Love of God Read Free Page B

vacation resort since the turn of the century. Then, its appeal had been as a spa. Now, it was the town itself and its many gift, antique, and craft shops. There was even a trolley car to ease the weary feet of those unprepared for the endlessly winding streets.
    And during the tourist season, people came by the thousands to see The Great Passion Play, an outdoor drama of Christ’s last days, and to viewthe seven-story statue of Christ of the Ozarks. There were other religious attractions, too, including the Bible Museum, the Christ Only Art Gallery, and the New Holy Land with its life-size recreations of scenes from the Bible.
    As much as Abbie loved her hometown and its picturesque buildings and Ozark Mountain setting, living in a town that had essentially changed little since the turn of the century had its disadvantages. Abbie became as irritated as the next motorist on city streets that were not designed to handle a lot of modern vehicle traffic. And there weren’t any traffic lights, which meant relying on the courtesy of another driver in the case of making turns onto main thoroughfares or off of them.
    In the summer, when the visitors came by the hundreds, she griped along with everyone else at the traffic tie-ups, but she still loved it. Maybe it was because she was like the town—a little out-of-date and out-of-step with the times—proud and old-fashioned.
    All her girl friends were married, and most of them had children. She had given up a promising career and come back to—what? To fantasize about a stranger who stopped to help?
    Climbing roses spilled over the fan-shaped trellises that marked the driveway of her parents’ home with its gingerbread trim. The old carriage-house-turned-garage sat at the side, literally built into the hill. Her father’s car was already inside the garage. Since there was only room for one and the weather couldn’t hurtMabel’s appearance, Abbie always parked outside.
    This time she stopped near the back door of the two-and-a-half story white house. Her cupboards were already filled with jars of goods from Grandmother Klein. She knew the elderly woman wouldn’t mind if her granddaughter gave some of the food and home-canned goods to the woman’s daughter and son-in-law. It certainly made more sense to divide it now than carry it all up a flight of stairs to her apartment, then back down to the house.
    Without bothering to knock at the back door, Abbie walked into the kitchen with an armload of jars. The rush of air-conditioned coolness hit her, and she paused to savor the relief from the outside heat.
    A tall, auburn-haired woman turned away from the stove where the evening meal was cooking to look at Abbie. There was a definite resemblance between mother and daughter with minor differences. Alice Scott was pencil-thin, with eyes that were more green than hazel. “You and Mother must have had quite a visit today,” she remarked. “She isn’t ill or anything?”
    “No.” Abbie walked to the breakfast table and carefully set the jars down. “I busted a radiator hose on the way home. I’ve been over at Kermit’s for the last two hours getting it repaired.”
    “I don’t see what keeps that car together at all,” her mother replied with a wry shake of her head.
    The unmistakable sound of her father runningdown the steps and whistling a tuneless song echoed into the kitchen. In a few things, her father was very predictable. One of them was his routine after a day at the office. He immediately changed into a pair of khaki pants and either a cotton plaid shirt in the summer or a bedraggled maroon pullover sweater in the winter upon coming home from the office.
    True to his pattern, he entered the kitchen in the plaid shirt and khaki pants. He sniffed at the food cooking on the stove. “Smells good, honey.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and walked to the refrigerator for a beer. “When do we eat?” Then he saw Abbie standing by the table. “I thought we pushed