Wind Over Marshdale

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Wind Over Marshdale Page 33

by Tracy Krauss


  “Which night was that?” Todd asked.

  “Okay. Let me make it a little plainer,” Con continued. “Do you know that you’ve got pornography on your personal computer?”

  “I, um, sometimes these things just pop up without warning. It’s the craziest thing,” Todd said, laughing nervously. He was sweating now.

  “I don’t buy that,” Con countered. “I think you have a problem with porn. Can you deny it?”

  Todd’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing? What grounds are you basing this—this lie on?”

  “I opened your computer when you went to the washroom,” Con admitted. “It was snooping, I know, but something prompted me to do it. I saw it, Todd. I saw the video you were watching.”

  Todd absorbed this. He was silent for several seconds until his face became a crumbling mass of anguish. With gigantic sobs he buried his face in his hands, his body shaking uncontrollably.

  Con watched. He should get up and comfort the man. Put his arm around him and offer to pray for him or something. But he felt nothing. No compassion, no sympathy. It was like his heart was hard and his former pastor’s brokenness only made him feel more disgusted.

  With a jerk, Con stood up and stalked from the room, shutting his ears and the church doors on the sounds of anguish. Disillusionment, in its purest form, was a bitter pill.

  ****

  Thomas sat on the sofa, his Bible open in his lap. The children were nearby, safely snuggled together under a blanket, watching a movie. “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered. “Thank you for saving my little girl today.”

  He was thankful for Laura Wilson, too. There was a time when he thought she wasn’t good enough to be his daughter’s friend, but he knew now that it was just as wrong as any other form of prejudice. Laura didn’t care about the color of a person’s skin. She just loved people. It was the way God wanted all people to live.

  Thomas continued to pray silently, as he watched Ryder and Whisper, their eyes fixed on the moving pictures; their heads touching, the blanket tucked up under their chins. “Thank you for showing me what’s important and rescuing me from myself. I was almost ready to throw it all away for the promise of personal gain. I see now it was all a lie from the devil, trying to entice me away from You and Your plan. What a fool! Thank you that you opened my eyes without too much pain and sacrifice.”

  “Daddy, your lips were moving,” Whisper noted, looking at her father before turning her attention back to the television.

  “I know, baby. Daddy was just praying. I’m so thankful to God that I still have my beautiful princess, that’s all.”

  As he surveyed his children, Thomas realized his mission was not what he thought it was after all. It wasn’t about the cultural centre, or uncovering a great archeological find, or even making people understand the rich history of his people. It wasn’t even about civil rights. And it certainly wasn’t about personal gain, be it power or prestige. It was about forgiveness and redemption. It was about accepting people where they were at, even if they hurt you. And most of all it was about spiritual freedom, not only for himself, but for this place. He knew that now. He had as many lessons to learn here as anybody, but he also had a job to do. A mission of repentance. And it was about time he got back to it.

  He unfolded himself from the sofa and kissed the tops of both his children’s heads before heading for the telephone in the other room. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. It rang twice before someone picked up on the other end.

  “Hello, Con? I’d like to ask your forgiveness.”

  ****

  For the second time in one day, Con McKinley found himself sitting outside the church, gathering the strength needed to go inside. This time it was less about confrontation and more about asking forgiveness— his own. He realized that he’d been judgmental earlier; unwilling to extend the same kind of grace that Christ Himself would have under the circumstances. It had taken a phone call to set him straight.

  Thomas Lone Wolf had called, asking him for forgiveness. Apparently he’d been harboring bitter feelings ever since he’d seen Rachel and Con together. Con knew the feeling since his own jealous insecurities about Rachel had found an easy target in Thomas. They’d prayed over the phone and Con left the conversation with a much lighter load, knowing that God was already busy restoring relationships.

  Thomas had also re-extended his invitation to join him in prayer out at Old Man’s Lake. Thomas felt strongly about it and, for some reason, Con did too. If ever a town needed freedom it was Marshdale. Sexual immorality, gossip and prejudice were running rampant, and if there was a connection to the sins of past generations, then the sooner it was dealt with the better.

  Not only were these three issues a plague in the town at large, but they were tearing the church apart, too. And that was what he was doing here. He was about to start the first round of cleansing; not with a rod, but with love.

  The interior of the church was dark and quiet. Almost eerily so. Pastor Todd’s office door was shut, but there was no noise coming from within. Con rapped once with his knuckles and then tried the door. It opened easily.

  Todd was sitting at his desk, his face a weary mask of spent emotion. The crying had stopped, but its evidence remained in his swollen eyelids, bloodshot eyes, and puffy red-pocked face. He was a broken man whose features showed he had resigned himself to a fate fatale.

  “I’ll resign of course,” Todd opened the conversation, his voice strangely calm. “Have you told the board yet?”

  Con shook his head, taking a seat across from Todd. “I haven’t mentioned it to anyone.”

  “So why are you back?” Todd asked. “Haven’t you seen enough of my shame? Or would you like more?”

  “If you want to talk more, I’ll listen,” Con offered. “Or we can pray. Whatever. I’m here to apologize for my initial reaction. I want to be a friend to a brother in need, not come down on you with the rod of condemnation.”

  It looked like Todd might lose control again, and Con focused his gaze on the floor, giving the other man a few minutes to get a hold of himself. Finally Todd cleared his throat. “Thank you. But why? I don’t deserve it.”

  Con shrugged. “It’s what I would want if I were in your shoes. Jesus said that whoever was without sin should cast the first stone. I know that isn’t me, so I’m here to listen instead. Help you through this if I can.”

  “I guess God’s not going to let me get away quite that easily,” Todd mused, allowing a crooked smile to flash across his face. “Right before you got here I was contemplating a little drive in the country. I was planning on driving my vehicle right off the ravine by Old Man’s Lake. I figured you’d have the decency to leave a dead man’s secrets be. Everyone else would think it was an accident and then Carol and the kids wouldn’t get hurt.”

  Con’s eyes opened wide in shock. “You were considering suicide?”

  Todd nodded. “It seemed a fairly attractive option under the circumstances.”

  “You’re the not the first man to struggle with pornography,” Con stated. “Not the first pastor, either. I was reading some statistics recently, and the numbers are actually quite shocking.”

  “If only that was it,” Todd sighed.

  Con surveyed the other man for a moment. “Oh? You want to share?”

  “Why not?” Todd shrugged. “Let’s see, where shall I begin? It probably all started when I was a teen. I got exposed to some light porn during high school, even though I attended a private Christian boarding school. It amazes me that parents think they’re sheltering their kids by sending them there, but you can still get into almost anything, if you’re looking to. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal back then and once Carol and I married, I figured I could give it up completely. I mean, why look at a picture when you’ve got the real thing, right? Anyway, that worked for quite a few years and I figured it wasn’t a problem.”

  “So what changed?” Con asked.

  “It happened i
n our last church. The one we were at just before we came here. It was a vibrant church, a growing church, and I was a leader who was on fire for the Lord. All night prayer meetings, people getting healed—you name it. God was on the move and I was at the helm.”

  “And?”

  “I went to a ministry conference in Calgary. There were thousands there and we were worshipping and praying and just allowing God to have His way. While I was there I,” Todd hesitated and cleared his throat. “I met this woman. A really anointed song writer and worship leader. Or at least I thought she was.”

  “Oh no,” Con groaned quietly.

  Todd nodded. “Yeah. We spent quite a bit of time together, you know, talking and sharing and… Well, I know it sounds ridiculous now, but it almost seemed ordained or something at the time. That together we could make this really dynamic team for the Lord.”

  “Only God doesn’t work that way,” Con finished.

  “Right. We corresponded by e-mail for a time, and then she got to asking—no demanding—when was I going to leave Carol and the kids and join her?”

  “Did you ever meet her? Outside that seminar?” Con asked.

  “Only once. And we never actually slept together, thank goodness, although I’ll admit we didn’t just keep it to talking,” Todd blushed. “By that time I was going to end it. I really was. Then one of the board members found and read one of her messages.”

  “And you were asked to leave,” Con finished.

  “No, actually,” Todd shook his head. “I did end it and I convinced the board that it was all a mistake. That she was a crazed lunatic out to ruin my reputation. It wasn’t long after, though, that a similar situation did occur. A teenage girl from the church—the same board member’s daughter in fact—accused me of sexually molesting her.”

  “Did you?” Con asked point blank.

  “No,” Todd said. “That’s the irony. Eventually she confessed to making it all up just to get her father’s attention, but the damage was done. Carol was devastated, even though I was innocent. I couldn’t help thinking it was just punishment for not telling her the truth about the other woman. I guess I thought I was getting what I deserved, even if it was for the wrong reasons.”

  “And the porn?” Con asked. “When did that start again?”

  “Right after we moved here,” Todd confessed. “Carol had become distant. And I was still wracked with guilt over the other affair. It soothed me at first. Helped me cope. Now I can’t stop.”

  “Does Carol know? About any of it?”

  Todd shook his head. “No. Other than the false accusations, she doesn’t know any of it. If she’s shut me out of the bedroom over something I didn’t even do, what will she do with this information?”

  “I don’t know,” Con admitted. “But it seems to me God does.”

  “Now you know why I just wanted to end it all,” Todd said. “I’m a man of the cloth, for goodness sake. I should know better.”

  “You’re human,” Con stated. “Not to mention a target. Satan knows if he can make you fall, lots more will follow.”

  “Some excuse.”

  “But true. I’m not excusing what you did, but God is a big God, full of mercy and compassion. He can forgive you.”

  “But can Carol?” Todd asked quietly, searching Con’s eyes as if he would find an answer there.

  “I don’t know. I do think she deserves to know the truth, though,” Con advised. “Satan would like nothing better than for you to keep covering this up. It’s his way of keeping you in bondage.”

  “But I’m scared…” Todd trailed off.

  “Aren’t we all? You just need to trust that God will take care of Carol,” Con said. The truth of his own words hit him square in the jaw. Isn’t that what he should be doing? Entrusting his own concerns, namely his feelings for Rachel, into God’s hands? “Come on. We’ll pray together. I’ve got some things on my mind, too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was good to be home. Toronto held nothing for her anymore, Rachel realized. She had finally made the break and released herself from her family’s hold. Freedom at last.

  The telephone rang, cutting into Rachel’s reflections.

  “Hello? Miss Bosworth, is that you?” a timid female voice asked on the other end.

  “Yes,” Rachel replied, waiting.

  “Uh, I was wondering if you could come over for a few minutes. I… I need to talk to you.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Janet. Janet Lane,” the woman replied. She sounded desperate. “Brandi’s mom? It would be good if you could come right away. Ralph’s not home right now and…”

  “I’ll be right over, Janet. Don’t worry.”

  What in the world? Maybe it had something to do with Brandi. Had she run away from the foster home this time?

  It took only a few minutes to drive to the Lane’s. Janet ushered her into the house, looking anxiously out onto the street before closing the door.

  The house was a dingy mess of scattered clothing and general clutter. The furniture was old and worn; a broken kitchen chair lay toppled in one corner. The kitchen counter was crammed with dirty dishes and empty bottles. A toddler wobbled by, fixing his gaze on the stranger as he walked, wearing nothing but a drooping diaper. Another boy of about four sat on the floor crashing two dinky cars together. His face needed washing.

  Janet removed the dark glasses that she wore. Rachel gasped at the blackened eye beneath. “Janet! Did Ralph do this to you?”

  “He was a bit—under the weather—when he left,” Janet explained.

  “Does he beat you often when he’s been drinking?” Rachel asked.

  Janet nodded, her mouth a pursed line. “Better me than on the little ones,” she said.

  “What? He has no right to abuse anyone,” Rachel exclaimed.

  “He only does it when he’s drinkin’. He’s real nice and gentle otherwise.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “He always feels real bad, afterwards. The trouble is, he’s been drinkin’ a lot lately,” Janet said, looking down at her feet.

  “He’s the one who beat Brandi, isn’t he?” Rachel asked, capturing the other woman’s gaze with her own. The girl had never confessed who her real perpetrator had been. She had insisted it was a group of kids from out of town that she didn’t know.

  Janet nodded. “Only a couple times. I felt so bad, ‘cause I wasn’t home, and well, he wouldn’t have beat on her, otherwise.”

  “He would have abused you instead,” Rachel stated.

  “I guess I don’t blame her for trying to run away. But now that they’ve gone and put her in a foster home in the city, Ralph’s been real angry. I’m afraid he’s going to start taking it out on one of the other children next.” She stooped to pick up the little boy that was now hanging on her leg. She kissed his tousled head with a sniff.

  “Janet, you don’t deserve to live like this. Nobody does,” Rachel said. “You should bring this to the police.”

  “They’d just put Ralph in jail. Then what would I do?”

  “You can’t remain here under these conditions! Think of the other children.”

  “That’s why I called you,” Janet explained. “I was trying to think of some way to get away for a while. And well, you seemed like a nice person. Someone I could trust. The way you looked after Brandi and all…”

  “Just what are you trying to say?” Rachel asked.

  “Ralph won’t be home for a little bit. Least he usually doesn’t come home until after dark. Well, anyway, I was wonderin’ since I don’t have a car, if I could impose on you for a ride to Silver Creek. There’s a bus out of there at seven for Regina.”

  “And what would you do there?”

  “Well, I’ve been savin’ some money. Ralph doesn’t know about it. I think I have enough to take me and the kids on to Calgary. I have a sister there.”

  “You expect me to just drop you off at a bus station with your small children and hope for
the best?” Rachel asked incredulously, her voice rising.

  “It’s all I could think to do,” Janet shrugged. The misery in her eyes was heartbreaking.

  “I don’t know, Janet. I still think going to the police or to social services would be better than running away.”

  “Please, Miss Bosworth?” Janet pleaded. “Please, Rachel?”

  The front door swung open with a bang. A very drunken Ralph Lane swaggered into the house, leaving the door wide for the biting air to enter the already cold room.

  “Ralph! What are you doing here?” Janet asked in frightened surprise.

  “Whad’ya mean?” he slurred. “This is my house. I live here. Hey! Who’s that?”

  “Hello, Mr. Lane,” Rachel greeted him, trying to sound business-like. “I’m just here visiting Janet.”

  “Well, if it ain’t that nosy teacher,” he said, advancing unsteadily toward Rachel. “You’re gonna pay for what you done.”

  “Mr. Lane,” Rachel said with as much bravado as she could muster. “You will stop threatening me, and you will stop abusing your wife and children!”

  He stopped in his tracks, leering. “So that’s your game, is it? Come to see if you can take a few more of my kids away, eh?” He lunged for her and ended up toppling over a kitchen chair as she ducked out of the way.

  “Ralph! Stop it,” Janet yelled, grabbing at his coat sleeve. He threw her off, sending her with a crash into the kitchen counter. A beer bottle slipped to the floor and shattered. One of the children started to cry.

  Rachel realized the desperate situation she was in. Even though Ralph was drunk, he was still a very powerful man.

  This time, he was able to catch Rachel’s wrist. He jerked her forward painfully. “Now then,” he ground out, his breath reeking of stale alcohol.

  God! Rachel called out in her mind. I’m sorry for not believing in You! Help me now!

  “Ralph, let go of the lady,” an authoritative voice said from behind.

  “Huh?” Ralph released Rachel’s wrist as he swung unsteadily around.

 

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