“So. It’s none of your business.” Alec tipped his head. “And how’d you know I’ve been at her house?”
His face flushed crimson. “I just do.”
“What, are you tailing me? Get a life!” Alec stood and headed for the door.
“Come back here. We’re not done yet.”
“Yes, we are. You want to discuss business? Fine. But my personal life is just that. Personal.”
“This is about your job, Corbett.”
Alec halted in his tracks. Turning slowly, he scrutinized the other man. Greg just stood there, rubbing his chin and looking tense. “I think your involvement with Mrs. Boswick,” he stated woodenly, “is affecting the quality of your work.”
“Oh, yeah?” Alec stepped back into the office and suddenly Larry’s words from last week reverberated in his head. Pastor Boswick has a lot of clout around here. Knows people in high places. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll make your life miserable. “You’re a member of SPCC, aren’t you? So the message you just gave me is from Gerald Boswick. . .? How much did he pay you to harass me?” He shook his head disbelievingly. “Man, I thought you were a Christian.”
“This has nothing to do with me,” Greg replied as he shifted uncomfortably. “Your work is. . .is suffering.”
“Right,” he said sarcastically. “So much so that you gave me a bonus last week.”
“Corbett, I’m warning you. I’ll have to write you up if this keeps going.”
“Do what you have to. But I’ll see Lydia when and where I please. It’s a free country—at least it was the last time I heard. But you did your part, Nivens, so you ought to get your blood money. Except, I’ve got to tell you,” Alec added with a deliberate smirk, “don’t quit your day job. You’re a terrible actor.”
Exiting the office, Alec tossed his coffee into the nearest trash bin. He’d never felt so angry in his life. He had thought Greg was a friend—a brother in Christ. And the disappointment suddenly filling his being overshadowed his fury. But, Lord, You’re bigger than Greg Nivens and Gerald Boswick, and I’m thankful I’ve got You on my side!
❧
“Oh, Alec, I’m so sorry,” Lydia said that night as they stood in their respective backyards, talking over the fence. She’d just arrived home after being at church for Thursday evening worship service. “Even more than sorry,” she added, “I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe my father-in-law would go to such lengths to keep us apart. Threatening you with your job?” She shook her head. “I’m shocked.”
“I’m not. I hate to tell you, honey, but this seems to be typical behavior for your father-in-law.”
She winced, hearing the cynicism in Alec’s voice, and yet she could hardly blame him. “Do you want to call it quits?” she asked, her throat tightening with emotion. “I’d understand.”
“Would you?”
She shrugged, lowering her gaze. She kicked at a clump of dirt near a fence post. Who was she trying to fool? She’d be heartbroken if they broke up.
“No, I don’t want to call it quits,” he said at last, causing her to sigh inwardly with relief. “I’m no wimp. Your father-in-law doesn’t scare me, but he sure makes me angry.” Alec put a booted foot on the fence and leaned forward. “The way I see it is we’re battling a social issue. If I rubbed elbows with the elite, wore the right clothes, attended the right church, and wasn’t a ‘Yankee,’ everything would be just fine.” He paused, his voice softening. “Do you want to call it quits?”
“No.” Lydia nibbled her lower lip in consternation, then glanced at her house. Tyler and Brooke had gone in ahead of her. “Alec, I need to get my children into bed.”
“Go ahead. I’ll call you in about an hour and we can talk some more, okay?”
Within the hour, Lydia had managed to tuck her two children into bed. They weren’t sleeping when Alec phoned, but she had a feeling they were well on their way. They’d never gotten home after school because Lydia had been so busy with office work, so they’d stayed right through until the evening service. Such days made for exhausted children by nine-thirty at night.
“So how was your day?” Alec asked.
“Long,” she replied, changing into her nightgown while holding the cordless phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Hey, don’t complain to me about long days. I’ve already put over fifty hours in this week.”
“Yes, but you’re a man,” Lydia said teasingly. “You’re made to handle such hardships.”
Alec groaned. “Excuse me, Miss Southern Belladonna. How could I have forgotten such a thing?”
She laughed softly, wondering if Alec really saw her as a belladonna. She had a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to women behaving like women, but rather he was used to them being loud and tough—even competing with men.
“Will you tell me what Denise was like?” she blurted without really thinking it through. “I mean, I just want to know what kind of woman she was, how she won your heart.”
There was silence for a long spell and Lydia was about to apologize for getting so personal. But then Alec spoke up.
“Denise was fun. She liked to go to basketball games, and. . . well, you remember Debbie from the Bible study, right?”
“Of course.”
“Denise was a lot like her.”
“I didn’t think you liked Debbie. You two acted more like enemies than friends.”
Alec chuckled. “Yeah, some people said that about me and Denise, too.”
“Well, I hope you won’t mind my saying so, but that doesn’t seem quite right.”
“Guess it wasn’t quite right in God’s eyes, either, because look what happened.”
“Hmm. . .” Clad in her nightgown, Lydia felt chilled and crawled into bed where she could finish her conversation with Alec in cozy comfort.
Then suddenly she heard the front door close downstairs. Odd, she thought, Tyler and Brooke are up here in bed.
Thinking it might be the wind that rattled this old house frequently, she relaxed, but then decided she’d better check on the children just in case Tyler had come up with one of his bright ideas. Flipping back the covers, she swung her legs off the bed and padded as far as the doorway when she heard the scuff of a hard-sole shoe against the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey, Lydia. You’re so quiet. Did I say something to offend you?”
“No, but. . .” She retreated a few steps. “Alec,” she whispered into the phone, “someone’s in my house.” Panic ripped through her as she wondered how she’d protect her precious children from an intruder.
“You sure?”
The stairs creaked in protest under the weight of her uninvited guest’s footfalls. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Hang up and call the cops. I’m on my way over.”
With shaky hands, Lydia did as Alec instructed, simultaneously pulling on her robe. She crept into Brooke’s room, the closest of the three, and hid behind the door, whispering her address to the 911 operator.
“Please hurry,” she murmured fearfully.
“A squad is on the way, ma’am.”
In the darkened hallway, Lydia saw the shadowy figure walk across the landing before climbing the last four stairs.
“Mama?”
“Shh. . . ,” she silenced her daughter, but only too late. The intruder had heard. He turned toward the sound of Brooke’s voice and the soft light from Lydia’s bedroom illuminated his features. “Sim!” she gasped, feeling both alarmed and indignant, “what are you doing here?”
He stepped closer, and she wrapped her robe more tightly around her as if it were some kind of shield. “I just came to check on you,” he said in an eerie-sounding tone.
“Ch-check on me?” she stammered. “You nearly gave me heart failure. How did you get into my house?”
He dangled a single gold key just above her head. As she looked up at it, he brought his mouth down in a vampirelike swoop and kissed her neck. Lydia shrieked in shock and disgust and, pushing him away, she
brought her palm hard against his cheek in a sound slap.
“You’ll pay for that,” he promised maliciously.
“Mama!” Brooke screamed from her bed.
“It’s all right. Don’t be afraid,” Lydia tried to assure her daughter as her own heart hammered wildly.
Lydia could hear Alec pounding furiously on the door as Sim grabbed her, pulling her toward her bedroom. Brooke began to wail. The phone clunked to the floor as Lydia fought her aggressor with all her might. Tyler emerged from his room just then.
“Mama!”
Before she could utter a word, Sim’s rough hand clamped over her mouth. But thankfully Ty drew his own conclusions and ran down the steps. It seemed to take forever before Lydia heard Alec coming. By then, Sim, crazed with evil intent, had her cornered.
“Don’t do this, Sim. Stop!”
In a flash he was yanked away, and Lydia watched in a mixture of horror and relief as Alec’s powerful fists delivered several well-directed blows. Sim suddenly resembled a life-size rag doll being pushed and pummeled across the room.
“No, Alec,” she cried, “don’t kill him!”
Sim’s body collided with her mirrored bureau, sending pictures, her jewelry box, and perfume bottles crashing to the floor. At last he lay in a heap near her closet.
“Mama! Mr. Alec! The police are here! I let ’em in!” Tyler shouted above the din of Brooke’s hysteria.
As the two officers entered the room, Alec breathlessly explained what had happened, and Lydia gathered Brooke into her arms, trying to soothe her. It was then Lydia realized she’d been sobbing, too.
Eighteen
Brooke lay fast asleep on Lydia’s lap in a rocking chair in the far corner of the living room. Thankfully, Lydia had been able to dress before giving her statement to police. Then Sim was transported to the hospital, where he regained consciousness and appeared fine for the most part. The authorities said he’d be arraigned later. Unfortunately, the sirens brought folks from their homes all up and down the street, and Lydia felt so ashamed and embarrassed. She was only too grateful for Alec, who stepped in and answered questions.
“What a lousy way to meet the neighbors,” he remarked facetiously after he saw the last of them out the door. The police had just left as well. Walking through the hallway to the living room, he paused beneath the threshold and gave Lydia a troubled stare. “You sure you’re okay?”
Hearing the note of concern in his voice, she felt like sobbing all over again, but managed a weak nod.
Alec strode toward her and, reaching the chair, he hunkered beside it. “First thing in the morning, I want you to call a locksmith and get him to come and change the locks.”
“I thought about it,” Lydia replied. “But Ron Zimmerman is the only locksmith in Woodruff and since he’s a member of SPCC, I’m afraid he’ll give my father-in-law a key.”
Alec looked momentarily thoughtful. “Well, I could do it, but I have to work a half day, so I won’t get to it till the afternoon. Is that all right?”
“Fine. I’m taking the day off tomorrow anyway. I have every intention of phoning Gerald in Florida and reporting this awful incident.” Lydia sniffed back a fresh onslaught of tears.
“I just hope he’s not the one behind it.”
“Oh, Alec, I wondered the same thing.” Lydia shook her head ruefully. “But it’s incomprehensible—my own father-in-law, a man whom I have trusted completely for almost three years, the person I counted on to care for and protect the children and me. . . . How could he be even remotely involved with tonight’s episode? And yet, with everything that’s happened lately, I can’t help but think it’s possible.”
Alec stood to his feet and ran a hand through his blond hair. “Even so, it’s doubtful we’ll ever prove it.” He pursed his lips, inclining his head slightly. “Okay, what about this weekend? Still want to go visit your friends?”
“Most definitely. I need to get away for a while.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
Lydia suddenly glanced around the side of him. “Where’s Tyler?”
“Oh. . .” Alec chuckled and motioned toward the front door with his thumb. “He walked out with one of the officers to see the inside of a police car. I didn’t think it’d hurt anything. In fact, I thought it might even get his mind off what happened tonight.”
As if on cue, the door opened and slammed shut—Tyler style. “That was awesome!” he declared, bouncing into the living room. “Mr. Alec, you shudda seen the stuff they all got in there. Radios, and—”
Alec put a finger to his lips to shush him, but too late.
“Mama,” Brooke whimpered.
Lydia frowned at her son for being so noisy. On the other hand, she felt relieved that he wasn’t traumatized like Brooke.
Rousing the sleepy girl on her lap, Lydia sat forward. “Y’all had better get to bed. It’s very late.”
The little girl suddenly began crying again. “No, Mama, I don’t want to go to bed. That bad man will come back.”
“No, he won’t,” Lydia said soothingly. “Shh. . .” She stroked her silky blond hair comfortingly.
“He can’t come back, Brooke,” Tyler told her, “the police got him.”
“That’s right,” Alec added, lowering himself to her eye level. “He won’t hurt you or your mom anymore. It’s okay to go to bed now.”
“I don’t wanna!” With that she buried her face in Lydia’s sweater.
“She’s overtired,” Lydia softly explained. “She can sleep in my bed tonight.”
Alec straightened his tall frame. “All right. Guess I’ll let you do your mother-thing and I’ll get myself home.”
Nodding, Lydia got up from the rocker, holding Brooke in her arms. “I can’t thank you enough for your help tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t—”
“Don’t even think about the what ifs. It’s over. Try to forget it, all right?” Alec turned. “G’night, kid,” he said to Tyler. He gave him a sort of sideways hug with one arm slung around his shoulders. “Help your mom out, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
“Come and lock the door after me.”
“Okay. . .I know how to lock it real tight.”
“I know you do.”
With a little smile, Lydia bid Alec good night and climbed the stairs. She felt Brooke’s small arms encircle her neck in a death grip as the little girl began to cry, and Lydia tried not to hate Simeon Crenshaw for terrorizing her family—and her!
❧
On Friday, Alec expertly changed Lydia’s locks, and then, under a clear, sunny sky, Lydia and Alec packed up her minivan and drove off toward Tennessee. On Interstate 40, the mountains rose up like smoke, for which they were named, and spanned the horizon like charcoal sashes against an azure sky. The highway dipped and peaked, between towering rock formations, then it stretched across wide forested valleys.
Tyler chatted incessantly for the first part of the journey. He asked Alec, who sat behind the wheel, every kind of question his eight-year-old mind could imagine. Did he like dogs? “Yep.” How about cats? “Hate ’em.”
The conversation continued for a while longer, and then Ty grew bored and sat back to play one of his hand-held electronic games while Brooke watched on curiously. They still had four and a half hours before reaching Nashville.
“Brooke seems to be calmer today,” Alec remarked to Lydia in a hushed tone so Brooke wouldn’t overhear.
“Yes. In the daylight, everything that happened last night seems like a nightmare instead of real life. I just hope she’ll be able to forget it easily enough.”
Alec nodded reflectively. “Know what I realized last night?”
“What?”
“I realized how much I’ve really come to care about you and the kids. I wanted to kill that guy—not a very Christian-like response, is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You were protecting us, and Sim wasn’t exactly in the right state
of mind for a discussion.”
“I’ll say.” Alec momentarily took his eyes off the road and glanced her way. “Know what I also realized?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t love Denise—maybe I never did. It’s weird, but I can’t ever recall feeling the way I did when I saw Sim with his hands on you. I felt scared and angry all at once. Oh, I’ve been jealous before. Denise was good at making me feel jealous. But this was different. Much different. And I guess I can’t explain it any better than I just tried.”
Lydia looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, and smiled. She couldn’t care less that Alec wasn’t eloquent when it came to sharing his feelings. He was honest and that was what mattered most to her. Besides, he’d just said the very words she longed to hear. He didn’t love Denise!
“Alec, if it took something like last night to cause you to realize your true feelings, then I’ll count it no small blessing.” Her smile broadened. “You know what I’ve decided? I’ve decided God sent you here to rescue me. You’re my knight in shining armor.”
“Right.” He laughed, obviously to cover his sudden embarrassment. “Oh, and speaking of rescuing. . .you never did tell me what your father-in-law had to say this morning.”
“He didn’t say much—I did most of the talking. I told him how disappointed I felt with him for threatening you and causing you to lose your job. He claimed he didn’t know what I was talking about. Then I informed him about what happened last night with Sim, and he got very quiet. Perhaps he felt angry or maybe he felt guilty. I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to ask.”
Alec changed lanes, passing a long truck carrying a large piece of machinery. Tyler and Brooke began to chatter excitedly over it.
“Lydia, I’m wondering. . .would you tell me what kind of relationship your husband had with his father?”
“Sure. They were a lot alike in many ways and keep in mind that Michael was an attorney so he loved a good debate.” Lydia couldn’t help a smile. “He and Gerald had plenty of them.”
“About anything specific?”
“Not that I can recall. I know Michael didn’t approve of his father involving himself so heavily with the church’s finances as well as those of some of the congregation—like my mother, for instance. But I remember Gerald claiming to be a sharp accountant, and he argued that he had a personal interest in the financial success of SPCC and its members.” She sighed regretfully. “But Michael would never tell me details. He said he didn’t want me worrying over anything. Of course, Elberta never allowed either of us to sit in on the men’s conversation and, frankly, I didn’t care to. But now I wished I would have paid more attention and asked more questions.”
Southern Sympathies Page 14