Tim was on the mound, winding up. “It’s only the bottom of the first. This is their first time at bat.”
He nodded. Watched her son’s form. And then gave a loud cheer when Tim struck the batter out in three pitches.
“He’s got real promise.”
She nodded. Todd had been good at baseball. He’d been Tim’s first coach, taking him through T-ball and into his first year in Little League.
“Any news from Greg?” David asked at the break before the top of the second.
“Nope.” The one word spoke volumes about Martha’s peace of mind.
“We’ve got watch duty again on Tuesday.”
“I know.” She’d suggested that morning that Ellen might want to take the kids down to the diner for dinner on Tuesday, but her oldest daughter had adamantly refused. Ellen didn’t seem to voluntarily go anywhere these days.
“I’m planning to spend a couple of hours out by the highway tonight. You want to join me?”
He was facing the field and she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. When he repeated himself, she said, “What on earth are you doing out by the highway?”
“Watching. On the off chance we have another hitchhiker. Another car comes along and offers the girl a ride….”
“You don’t think Ellen’s attack was due to a random act of foolishness on her part?”
Martha had never really considered it anything else.
Had, in a way, felt somewhat comforted by that. Because it meant that if she ensured her kids followed all the rules, they’d be safe.
“It probably is, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check.”
There was an odd note in his voice. He knew more than he was saying. Or at least he suspected more. He’d implied that from the beginning. His “no questions” rule was going to make her insane. If the rest of her life didn’t get her there first.
“The kids received their report cards yesterday.” She was looking straight ahead. Making idle conversation.
“And?”
“Shelley’s A’s dropped to C’s and even one D.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The facts spoke for themselves. Still, the pastor had big strong shoulders, and they were right there next to her, one of them even touching her.
“Your show finally aired last weekend.” They’d had some problems with scheduling the Sunday morning spiritual hour in which he’d been featured. A student had double booked three different shows for one slot, and when Martha had phoned him, David had graciously offered to be postponed.
“I saw it.”
“We’ve had a number of calls.” She’d known they would. It had been a good segment.
And apparently there were a lot of people whose lives were driving them to seek fluffy clouds. Heavenly clouds.
But not her. No more. Never again. She was keeping her life firmly grounded in reality.
“You spoke to Shelley about her grades?”
It was the bottom of the second inning. Tim was warming up.
“Yes.”
“And?”
Martha didn’t care to replay that conversation. Ever. She’d done nothing else for most of the night. And the fear in her heart hadn’t diminished one bit.
“I was basically told to get off her back.”
“I figured her for playing the Ellen card.”
She’d done that.
“Or the Todd one.”
That, too.
“She’s in victim mode. Everything is the fault of someone else.”
He was good at this.
“What’d she say when you told her ‘getting off her back’ wasn’t an option?”
That’s when the pain had really started.
“She seems to think there’s not much I can do about it one way or the other. It isn’t a crime to get bad grades. In fact she informed me, she’s old enough to quit school altogether if she wants to.” Martha hadn’t meant to spill so much. Hadn’t even told Becca the extent of her argument with Shelley when, crying, she’d called her best friend late last night.
“She says I can ground her, and she’ll just run away. I can tell her not to go someplace, but there’s no way for me to know if she does or doesn’t because I don’t have the time to follow her around. She’s her own boss now and that’s just how it’s going to be.”
He never took his eyes off the game. Martha appreciated that.
“I’m assuming you set her straight.”
“Yeah.” She wasn’t so much worried that Shelley would do any of the things she’d threatened as she was hurt by the loss of her connection to a child she loved with all her heart. “I reminded her who paid the bills. And that her freedom is based largely on the fact that I provide the car and the money that allow her to come and go virtually as she pleases. I reminded her that she likes to wear department store makeup and designer clothes, plus have her own room.” Tim walked the first two batters. “That yes, she can run away, but sleeping on the streets, where she’s at the mercy of everyone else out there, was going to be a lot more restrictive than the relative freedom she now enjoys. And I reminded her that until she’s eighteen, or made a ward of the state, she is legally bound to follow my rules.”
Their third batter got a hit.
“I’d say that just about covers it,” David told her, elbows on his knees as he rubbed his hands together.
“And I told her I loved her and I said that counted for a lot.”
He looked at her then, eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. “How did she respond to that?”
“She pretty much ignored me.”
And she’d continued to ignore her for the rest of the night, after she’d announced that if she wanted her Mom’s love she’d ask for it, and had stomped off to her room.
That last line had created feelings so raw within Martha that she couldn’t even talk about it. Not to David. Not Becca. Not even to herself.
She’d never, in any nightmare she’d ever had, considered the possibility that one of her children would find her love worthless.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I POURED OUT ALL MY turmoil during the game this afternoon. Can’t you give me even a hint of what you suspect about the identity of Ellen’s attacker?”
They were in the Explorer again. Parked near Wal-Mart. Martha had the outside mirror turned so she could see the corner where Ellen had been picked up. David was keeping his eyes trained on the rearview mirror. It was dark and the car’s windows were tinted, making the interior impossible to see but they were both sitting low in their seats.
He was feeling far too mellow, trying to pull himself back by concentrating on the sermon he’d written for the next morning. Tim had invited him for dinner after the game. They were grilling hamburgers, he’d said, and his mother wasn’t very good at it. Martha had shocked him and judging by the consternation on her face shocked herself—by seconding the invitation. David had accepted before he’d had time to consider all the consequences.
It was customary for a single preacher to take meals at the homes of his parishioners. It just wasn’t wise for a single man to eat at the home of a woman for whom he holds a pointless attraction.
“Does that mean your answer’s no?” she asked, her arms once again folded across her chest. She was wearing another of her long-sleeved, button-down blouses. A black one. Tucked into a pair of jeans that outlined the shape of her legs a little too clearly.
“The man tried to pay her.” Any conversation was better than the one David had going on in his head.
For a moment the clamor in his mind drowned out anything else.
“Where were you?” Martha was staring at him.
“I’m right here.”
“Yeah, but your mind was a million miles away. I just asked you a question and you didn’t even hear me.”
She looked far too cute with her nose wrinkled up that way. When he found himself frustrated with the darkness that was preventing him from seeing the expression in her eyes, he sa
id, by way of diversion, “Repeat the question and I give you my word that I’ll answer it.”
Her grin touched him. Physically touched him. She didn’t move. He didn’t move. But she touched him. He felt her. In his chest. His groin. “Darn, Preacher,” she said, “with an offer like that, you make it tough for a girl to stay honest.”
“I’m only answering one question—the one I missed,” he warned.
“How are you going to know if I ask you a different question?”
She was challenging him. Teasing him. Making life much more excruciating than it needed to be.
“I’ll be able to tell,” he murmured—when all he could think about was leaning over in the darkness and kissing her.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Nothing.
It’s a test.
Okay.
I’m not going to screw up.
I know.
Okay, then. More at peace, David heard the end of her question—just enough to give her a plausible answer. She wanted to know why the attacker’s offer of payment was anything but the remorse Greg had suggested.
“Why would a man pay a woman for sex?” He answered her question with his own.
“Greg thinks the guy was trying to pay for damages. Some reason he stopped being so rough when she quit fighting. Greg figures this isn’t a guy who’s raped often—or maybe ever before,” she said. David had heard the sheriff’s theories the same time she had.
“I’m not talking specifically about Ellen’s attack,” he explained. “In general, why might a man pay a woman for sex?”
“I guess if he’s hiring a hooker…”
“Exactly.”
She was frowning; he could see her shadowy face reflected in the side mirror. “What does that have to do with Ellen?”
“Probably nothing,” David sighed, started the car. “Just a hunch I had.”
One that he likely wouldn’t have come up with if he didn’t have firsthand knowledge of a business that had shown him a much darker side of life.
“Which was?”
“That the guy thought Ellen was a prostitute.” He backed the car toward the road.
“That’s ridiculous!” Martha sputtered, peering at the spot where Ellen had been taken all those weeks ago, as though there would be some sign there, some mark that they’d missed all the other times they’d been there since the attack. “If it had been Shelley, okay, maybe I’d consider that she’d be mistaken for a, uh, professional woman. But not Ellen! She’s as homespun-looking as they come!”
“Sometimes that’s the act.” David’s instincts were screaming at him to shut up. “Not all prostitutes are hired off the street.”
“I know that,” Martha said. “I’ve seen the movies, too. There are women who work in expensive circles, who hire themselves out to—”
“And there are businesses,” he interrupted, choosing his words carefully. “Places a man can go to order the fantasy he wants. I just wondered if perhaps that’s what happened with Ellen. She’d been mistaken for someone else. Someone who was supposed to have been standing on that corner…”
Martha thought his idea inconceivable. He could tell by the almost pitying look she sent him. He saw it quite clearly with the help of an oncoming car’s headlights. And it probably was unlikely. Just an overactive imagination. Theories triggered by long-ago issues that still lurked inside him.
Still, it was just as well that she didn’t give the idea credence. He wasn’t nearly as sure about the possibility now as he’d been a few weeks ago. What he’d taken for divine guidance had been little more than a conclusion based on experience.
Not something he was comfortable admitting. How, then, did he tell the difference between the two? How did he prevent such errors in judgment from happening again? And hurting the people who depended on him to know the difference?
“How come you know so much about prostitution?”
“What?”
Had he been talking during his inner sojourns? Talking without awareness, just as he’d been unaware when she’d asked him a question earlier?
“What you were describing—the business, as you called it. How does a man of the cloth know so much about that way of life?”
He was a preacher. A man of God. He took his calling more seriously than his life. He couldn’t lie to her.
“I did a stint in an inner-city church for a while.”
Apparently accepting the explanation, Martha fell silent…and remained silent for most of the way back to her house. David was eager to drop her off, get home and spend some time in prayer and meditation. He was losing focus. Making mistakes.
He was just grateful that Martha Moore hadn’t guessed there was more than one answer to that last question.
“MAY GOD BLESS YOU and keep you in his care….”
Ellen didn’t want the service to be over. During this hour in church each Sunday, or really anytime Pastor Marks was around, she felt a little better. Like maybe she’d feel the sensation of peace again, sometime in her future life. If she made it through now. If she lived long enough.
Occasionally, when Pastor Marks was at her house, she actually felt laughter inside. During those first weeks after the attack, she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel light enough to laugh again.
Nothing had seemed the least bit funny.
“I’ll catch a ride home,” she told her mother as they were leaving their usual pew after the service. She sped away before her mom could question her. Ellen had no explanation for the feelings that compelled her to do what she planned to do next.
Pastor Marks was much more popular than he’d been when he’d first come to Shelter Valley almost a year ago. She had to wait a long time for all the people to go home.
“Pastor Marks?” She caught him in the vestibule between the church and his home. She’d waited until he left his office—the church secretary was still there and the finance committee, too, counting money.
But she couldn’t bear to go back to his house. Those were the first memories she had of that night and she didn’t ever want to see his kitchen again. So here she was, hanging around in the bushes like a vagabond.
“Ellen?” He walked toward her, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She should feel stupid. Instead, she felt as if she had no choice. “I, um, just wanted to talk to you.”
“Let’s go back to my office—”
“No!”
“Okay.” His eyes looked really concerned now, and she couldn’t blame him for finding her behavior weird. “You want to come up to the house?”
“No!” This wasn’t going well. Not that she’d had any idea what was supposed to happen. “Can we, um, just walk?”
“Sure.”
He started for the street.
“Back here?” She indicated the churchyard, where they’d had their Fourth of July picnic the year before. She’d shared a chicken leg with Aaron. And that evening had been the first time he’d kissed her.
“Sure.” The pastor started slowly circling the yard. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just needed to talk to you.”
“But you don’t know what about?”
“Not really. I just couldn’t go home yet. I wasn’t ready for…for the relaxed feeling I get here to end.”
He nodded as though he understood. And didn’t find her weird at all.
“So tell me what’s on your mind.”
She shrugged. She couldn’t tell him that. She didn’t talk to anyone about that. Ever. “School, I guess.”
“Have you seen Barbie and Anita lately?”
“Sure,” she said, impressed that he cared enough to remember her friends’ names. “Every day at school. And they were both here today.” But he’d know that.
“I meant outside of school. Like a trip to the mall, maybe? Or even a visit at home?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have time for that right now. My classes are really tough thi
s semester and I don’t want to blow my 4.0.”
“Yeah, your mom said something about that.”
He was so easy to talk to. Ellen wished it could be like that with everyone. Still, she didn’t really have anything to say. She just wanted to feel peaceful.
“How about Aaron?”
Ellen couldn’t breathe. Needed to go home. Why, oh, why had she sent Mom away? She’d made a mistake. She wasn’t ready to be out on her own yet.
“I thought Mom told you. I broke up with him.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t still see him. You both go to the same school.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re my age and you break up with a guy, he usually avoids you.”
“How do you feel about that?”
How was she going to get home? She’d figured she’d ask him to take her, but now she didn’t want to.
“I don’t know.” She was feeling hot. And scared as usual.
“You sure about that?”
“About what?” Now he was confusing her. This whole thing was confusing her. She should’ve gone home.
“About how you feel? I think you miss Aaron. A lot.”
“Well, I don’t.” She couldn’t. It would kill her.
Pastor Marks was quiet for a while and Ellen began to think that was the end of it. She’d just about worked up the courage to ask him for a ride home when he said, “Answer one question for me, Ellen.” He’d stopped at the back part of the yard, standing in front of her, trapping her between him and the rose bushes lining the wall behind her.
“What?”
“I want an honest answer, and then, if you wish, I promise I won’t mention the subject again.”
“Okay.” At least she could breathe again. One question and then there’d be no more hard stuff from him.
One question.
Why wasn’t he asking it? She looked up at him.
“If that night had never happened, would you have broken up with Aaron?”
She couldn’t answer that. She couldn’t. Ellen just stared at him. And eventually, when there was no other option, started to cry.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice soothing. Calm. Reassuring. Like her father used to sound back when he still loved and needed them. She’d believed then that he’d always be there, fighting her demons, keeping her world safe. “It’s okay, Ellen. You’re going to be okay.”
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