by Jan Thompson
Corinne handed him a wad of paper napkins. The man thanked her in a thick accent, and began to wipe his forehead—lobster-red and flushed with sweat.
Corinne regretted helping him as soon as he did that. The napkin fell apart on his face. Bits and pieces of paper were stuck to his forehead and cheeks.
Oh, no.
She didn’t know what to say. She looked around, found a roll of paper towels, and tore off a few sheets for him. The man thanked her again.
That helped some.
Corinne tried not to look at him. She rang up his five boxes of double chocolate fudge with extra maple syrup and cut cherries on top. He swiped his card, and waddled out of the store with the shopping bag.
Anyone who worked in this store had trained to work at all the stations, even helping Hardin to make their signature items. That way, if someone called in sick, another person could fill in, and the shop would continue to function.
Usually, Corinne was at the back, stirring melted chocolate or making brownies and fudge and other sweet things she had no cravings for. Her entire life, she had never experienced any sweet tooth. She didn’t know whether it was genetic or not, since her mother had passed away many years ago. She never knew her father, and didn’t know if she inherited a sweet tooth—or for that matter, any medical problem, from him either.
Perhaps it wasn’t ironic that she was a single mother now too.
But yeah, no sweet tooth.
With Erika late for work, Corinne had to fill in wherever Sandra put her today. Out front, Corinne had to smile to the customers and be as polite as she could.
Back in Savannah, when she still had a job that provided her with 401K and health insurance, she was an office manager at a pottery studio. Sure, there were customers coming and going—buying pottery or taking classes—but for the most part, Corinne didn’t have to greet anyone with a smile on her face.
Especially when her entire body ached all over.
She shouldn’t have taken that short cut last night through the alley—
The cabinets rattled as a stampede of kids stormed in. They looked like they were from the nearby camp. Corinne wished she could afford to send Dahlia to camp someday.
The kids oohed and aahed and licked their lips as their noses and palms pressed against the clear glass panel separating them from the ice cream bar.
From the corner of Corinne’s eye, she spotted Erika rushing in, tying up her apron and then putting on a pair of gloves. The children all spoke at once. Their chaperone tried to calm them down.
Must be nice to be so young and carefree.
Corinne bagged and checked out a dozen customers before she could go lean against something or sit down to rest her sore feet. She had bought the tennis shoes from Walmart about a year ago, and had worn down the inside sole. She lined it with a new insole only yesterday, but it might not be enough.
Every night, she’d go home with sore feet and aching joints from half an hour of walking. That was why she had taken the short cut last night.
Bad move.
Thank God that a couple of homeless men had wandered into the alley to dumpster dive. They scared off her attackers, but not before Corinne saw their faces.
They were the same attackers from two months before, although that was on another street several blocks away. Some passersby stopped the attack and called the police. Corinne ended up in the hospital, and was released the next day before she contacted her FBI handler.
A week later, the police found her attacker dead, beaten to a pulp.
Corinne didn’t believe her FBI handler had sent someone to mete out justice for her. She was more apt to think it was Flavian.
It had to be.
Flavian Bailey was her ex-boyfriend in Nevada. Corinne had refused to remember him for two years, but could he have found her, even though she changed her name from Gail to Dinah?
Flavian was the reason she had to go into the United States Federal Witness Protection Program with her daughter. Rarely a violent man—he had others do his dirty work for him—Flavian lost it when he discovered that his favorite girl turned out to be an FBI informant.
Still, Flavian could never hurt Corinne.
He would even defend her.
However, the FBI wouldn’t take any chances. Corinne’s handler terminated her spying activities, and removed her from Las Vegas. Mother and child ended up in a safe house before they were whisked away by Federal Marshals who deposited them in Key Largo, at the house of one Wanda Preston.
WITSEC or not, this safe haven hadn’t prevented her from being raped by some drunken stranger, who had evidently paid for his life.
She should leave Florida altogether. But she had no money to go far, and wouldn’t dream of hitchhiking with a three-year-old in tow.
To be honest, Corinne was tired of running.
The door chimes jingled and jangled incessantly. Every now and then a whoosh of the afternoon heat pulsated into the shop. The ceiling fan spun quietly above, and the air-conditioning was at full blast, but all that wasn’t going to help much if the door to the hot Florida sun kept opening and closing.
However, such a thing was typical in June. After all, all the beach towns along the Florida Keys, from Key Largo to Key West, were huge tourist hangouts. People came here from all over the world, practically all year round. With school out for the summer in the United States, domestic tourists also flocked to the area. About the only time the chocolate shop had no customers was hurricane season.
Otherwise, Key Largo was filled with northern snow birds in winter, students during spring breaks, homeschoolers in the off-seasons, and people on vacation year round. They came to see the ocean, do some diving and deep-sea fishing, and dine on fresh sea food.
And maybe eat some homemade chocolate too.
“There you go.” Corinne handed another bag of yummies to the next customer. She was one of the many indecisive tourists who bought a little of everything. They sold sampler boxes up on the shelves, but most people wanted to pick their own samples.
She scanned the store to see how many customers there were currently. A few walked out without buying anything. That was highly unusual, but it happened.
The door chimed again, and Corinne glanced that way—
No. It can’t be.
Corinne felt lightheaded.
Her knees buckled.
Then she felt nothing.
Chapter Three
“Dinah? Dinah?”
Faintly, distorted and indistinct as though in a tunnel, the voices kept repeating the name.
Who is Dinah?
Whoever you are, Dinah, you better respond!
Corinne tried to open her eyes, but her vision was fuzzy—as though she was waking up from sleep.
What’s going on? Why did I…
“Let’s carry her to the back office. We have customers here.” Sandra’s voice was a mix of concern and…regret?
“Is she pregnant?” Erika’s voice.
“Should we call 911?” Hardin, oh Hardin.
“No, no. I’m fine.” Most definitely, do not call 911.
That would cost money. Without insurance, Corinne could not afford it.
“I don’t want to be a burden to anyone,” she found herself saying.
She couldn’t get up.
Her eyes finally opened. Someone was staring down directly at her.
“Are you all right?” Sandra asked.
“Please don’t fire me. I need this job. I’ll…I’ll get back to work.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Sandra said. “I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”
“Maybe it was too hot outside. I just need some cold water.” Corinne struggled to sit up. She held her head.
What happened?
“Hardin can drive you home,” Sandra said. “You should see the doctor ASAP. I don’t want you passing out again.”
Corinne nodded even though she knew she wasn’t going to follow through.
Doc
tors cost money. She had to save every dime to feed herself and her daughter.
I won’t let Dahlia down like everybody else has let me down.
“Where’s Hardin?” Sandra asked.
“I’ll take her home,” a deep voice said.
Martin MacFarland.
I’m dreaming.
Corinne dared not look in the direction of the voice. She pulled her shirt across her belly to cover up her baby bump.
“Who are you?” Sandra said to the voice from Corinne’s past.
“I’m an old friend. She knows me. I’ll take her home.”
Still sitting on the floor, Corinne didn’t want to look at him. At the back of her mind, she should have expected that somehow she would have to face reality one way or another at some point in her life.
Though not this soon, God. Not this soon.
Corinne breathed in and out. Steeled herself as best she could, and rose to her feet—with the help of many hands. They moved her away from the main aisle behind the counter toward the back of the store. Sandra gave her a cup of cold water. Then she went back to work, leaving Corinne sitting on a chair by the wall.
She lifted her chin, and there he was.
I wasn’t dreaming. It’s really him.
Martin MacFarland looked older. His haircut was shorter now. Neater and tidier. He wore a Hawaiian shirt with faded geometric patterns. Scruffy deck shoes. Canvas, probably. His favorite.
He didn’t have a band on his ring finger.
Corinne didn’t know why her thought went to that, but it made all the difference in the world.
If he were married, she would not want to accept his help to get her home.
Then again, he had found her. It had to be on purpose. What if he didn’t wear his wedding ring on purpose?
Well, okay.
Either way, she had to say no.
There was no way she would want him to go near her ramshackle house. He would see Dahlia. Ask questions. Judge her with his Christian faith.
Now I’m a Christian too, although only for under a year.
“Y-you’re…pregnant?” Martin blurted.
Corinne didn’t reply, as if talking to him would make things more difficult for both of them.
“Leave. Please leave.” It was curt, but she didn’t want Martin to get any idea.
“I came here to ask you to forgive me,” Martin said. “You’re pregnant.”
Corinne could imagine the shock on Martin’s face.
Sometimes in the dark of night, she had thought of him and wondered what they would say if they saw each other again. One of the things she thought she should do was to ask for his forgiveness.
But he got to it first.
“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.” Martin kept his voice down.
“Go,” Corinne said, trying not to cry.
Get out of my life and don’t come back.
Martin nodded, just as Hardin showed up, all flustered.
“Dinah, you okay?” He blurted.
“Could you take me home, please?” Corinne asked.
“Of course. Let’s go.” Hardin reached for Corinne’s hand and helped her to her feet.
Corinne walked by Martin, refusing to look at him at all.
She had no idea what Martin thought about that, but she wanted to send a clear signal to him that whatever they had in the past was long gone and never to be rekindled.
It was gone.
And so were the best days of her life.
Stunned, Martin stayed rooted to the spot, watching Corinne leave with some guy, who seemed to be another worker at the store. He tried to recall his name. Earlier, the older woman had asked for some guy to take Corinne home. This must be the dude.
Tell me it’s not his shirt that Corinne was wearing.
Worse yet, tell me she’s not carrying his baby.
He wondered if he should follow them.
I’m not a stalker.
“Sir, please,” someone said to him. “Customers are not supposed to be on this side.”
“Ah. Sorry. I was trying to help Corinne…” Martin backed away toward the aisle that led to the front of the store.
“Who?”
“Dinah. Must’ve gotten her mixed up with someone else.” He had forgotten that she was living under an alias.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s probably just the heat, like she said. I told her not to sit outside in the sun.”
“She does like the sunshine.”
The girl gave Martin an odd look. “You know her? How?”
“We’re old friends. Could you tell me when she works?”
“We don’t give out employee hours.”
“Okay. How early are you open in the morning?”
The woman pointed to the sign on the glass windows. The words and hours were printed in reverse.
“Thank you.” Martin wanted to be on good terms with the people who work here. He didn’t want anyone to get in his way of another meeting with Corinne.
“What’s good in here?” He asked.
“Everything is good.” She pointed to chunks of fudge. “Would you like some samples to help you decide?”
Martin salivated at the array of choices. He picked all dark chocolate, but in at least five different flavors. Then he felt bad he couldn’t make up his mind. So he bought a quarter pound of each of the five fudge types.
Across the street, he ate half of them before he put his car in gear.
That was when he spotted Hardin at the gas station next to where he parked. Hardin was getting gas for his vehicle. Inside the car was a passenger who looked like Corinne from the back. She must have her window rolled down, because Hardin was talking in an animated fashion.
Something pulled at Martin’s heart.
He put on his safety belt, and cranked up his Shelby.
Chapter Four
The last person Corinne expected to see in Key Largo was Martin MacFarland. Even though they were on the same Atlantic Coast, Corinne had a new life now. For all practical purposes, Martin was dead to her.
She felt her baby kick.
Flavian’s baby.
It wasn’t the baby’s fault, Corinne kept telling herself.
Corinne stopped at the edge of the patch of grass and looked out to sea. She breathed in the afternoon air, hot and swirling around her. It wasn’t cooled down yet by the breeze from the Atlantic Ocean.
She had asked Hardin to drop her off by the roadside several blocks away so that she could clear her head as she walked home the rest of the way. It was daylight, and she was in open space.
Corinne felt safe.
She hadn’t been assaulted in two months.
Going in the opposite direction now, she walked down a small lane leading to the public beach access. She crossed the boardwalk, took off her shoes, and stepped on the soft sand. The sand felt summery hot as she had expected on this June afternoon, but Corinne didn’t want to wear her shoes. She didn’t want to get sand in her only pair of work shoes she had bought from the thrift shop two years ago.
Corinne walked along the ocean’s edge, cooling down her feet as she sloshed her way along the beach. Praying, thinking, praying, mulling over her life.
When she didn’t get a ride home from Erika or Hardin, this was her usual walking route to and from work, day in and day out, rain or shine—every day except Sunday when Pete from church gave them a ride to the morning service.
One Sunday afternoon, after a potluck lunch at a church member’s house, Corinne heard the salvation message. That evening, she asked Wanda what that was all about.
Wanda explained what Jesus had done for Corinne on the cross of Calvary, how He carried Corinne’s sins on His shoulders, and sacrificed Himself to set her free from the guilt and shame of her sins.
Weeping on Wanda’s shoulder, Corinne saw the intensity of God’s love for her.
That night, Corinne accepted Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior. The next morning, she woke up to the surprise of
her life.
The weight of all her life’s burdens were gone from her shoulders.
Life was still hard, but now she had hope in Christ.
She still had to face the difficulties of her life as it was, but she no longer felt the heavy weight and the stress of that burden pressing down on her shoulders.
She was free.
Just like what Wanda said God would do for her.
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
For the next few weeks after her salvation, Corinne joined a Bible study with the other mothers in her preschool group. She memorized that verse from John 8:36, along with several other verses for new believers in Christ.
Still, it would be a couple of months later at the Christmas Eve service when it all sank in for her. The entire weight of her sins was still gone. “Jesus had paid it all, and carried it all.”
That was the most peaceful Christmas in her entire life.
I still can’t believe that You saved me, Lord.
She smiled to no one on the open space. Somewhere along the shoreline, visitors here and there played at the water’s edge. Local residents knew better than to come out here at two o’clock in the afternoon.
Air conditioning would be nice about now.
Then again, this was Key Largo. If she wanted to live here, she’d have to get used to how warm it was going to be all year round.
This wasn’t like Savannah…
Oh, she wished she hadn’t thought of Savannah. That always brought back memories of a past she wished she could forget forever, memories like…
Martin.
Back at the chocolate shop, he had clearly stated his case. He had a reason for tracking her down.
I came here to ask you to forgive me.
After four years.
Shouldn’t it go both ways?
Corinne didn’t want to know. In fact, she decided there and then to call in sick the next day. It would be a lie, but she could not face Martin.
Not with all these problems swirling around her.
Why did God bring him back into my life?
She wondered if it was to give her a chance to say goodbye once and for all?
That couldn’t possibly happen.