Nothing Sacred

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Martha was just the only one expressing it.

  “So, just like that, a rapist is allowed to drive away?!”

  “No,” Greg said calmly. “I’m going to call the travel agent—”

  “You got a name?”

  “Of course. They both had ID.” He handed her the pad on which he’d written some notes. “And I got the license number, too.” He frowned. “It was a dealer plate.”

  “What’s that mean?” Martha was on edge, ready to pounce. But she’d leaned into the hand David still had at her back.

  “It means the car’s owned by a dealership, not an individual. That man was either an employee of the dealership, or out on a test-drive, or he’s about to be charged with misuse of a dealer plate. In the state of Arizona, that’s a felony.”

  “Assuming you find him.”

  Greg held up a small white piece of paper. “He gave me his business card.”

  David’s heart sank.

  “It wasn’t him,” Martha said. “Rapists don’t hand over business cards.”

  “Not usually. Not a card that matches the name on his driver’s license, anyway,” Greg told her. “Besides, other than his age and hairstyle, I don’t think he resembled the composite drawing at all, do you?”

  Martha’s whole demeanor changed in that second. She seemed to shrink, closing in on herself, and without taking time to rationalize or plan, David pulled her into his arms. She needed emotional sustenance, human contact.

  He didn’t think anything could surprise him anymore, yet he was shocked when she cuddled against him. And even more when she started to cry.

  Greg walked away, joining his deputy inside.

  Leaving David alone to hold in his arms the woman he loved helplessly.

  MARTHA CALLED DAVID the next night. She’d waited until all the kids had escaped to their rooms—something that was happening earlier and earlier these days. Dinner was becoming a mostly silent affair, as well.

  Shelley, when she was there, was sullen. Replying with sarcasm if anyone dared speak to her. But she showed up for dinner every single time Martha told her to. Which was enough for Martha on that front for now.

  Tim seemed to have forgotten all the manners he’d ever been taught. Because he sat next to Rebecca, his behavior upset her youngest daughter, who took every opportunity, including mealtimes, to tattle on her brother. Ellen sat at the opposite end of the table from Martha, eating smaller and smaller portions, apparently oblivious to everything going on around her….

  David picked up on the second ring.

  “Did I interrupt anything important?” Martha was in her room, ironing, the phone held between her shoulder and her ear.

  She was busy. So busy. The call was only an afterthought, she told herself. It didn’t require her full attention.

  “Martha, hi. No, nothing I can’t get back to. I’m reading,” he told her, recognizing her voice as though they spoke on the phone all the time.

  She wondered what kinds of things he read sitting in that big house all alone.

  “I wanted to apologize for last night,” she blurted. Her statement was only a shadow of the calm and detached delivery she’d rehearsed in her mind far too often that day. The words were pretty much the same, but…

  “There’s no need to apologize.”

  “I should never have fallen apart on you like that. It’s not something I make a habit of doing.” It was very important he understand that.

  Martha picked up the shirt on the ironing board, adjusted it so she could get to something other than the sleeve she’d been pressing over and over.

  “Everyone has moments when life gets a little overwhelming,” he said. “And preachers tend to be around for many of them.”

  “You’re trying to tell me you’re used to that kind of thing. That you do it all the time.”

  “Something like that.”

  Okay. Fine. She’d worried for nothing. Let that be a lesson to her.

  “Greg called this afternoon,” she said. There, she’d done the collar. Moved on to the other sleeve.

  “And?”

  “There’s no travel agent in Phoenix by the name that couple gave….”

  A wrinkle in the second sleeve was being obstinate. Martha pushed the button for extra steam. Tried again.

  “And when he called the number on the business card, he was told that James Sharp was on a month-long vacation and could not be reached. They wouldn’t give out his home phone number without a court order, and as of right now, Greg has no reason to request that order. The woman apparently works for the same company. She’s on leave, too.”

  “Greg should be able to get the number,” David murmured.

  “There’s no phone number for a James Sharp anywhere in the Phoenix area.”

  There, she got that wrinkle. And scorched one of her favorite white shirts in the process.

  “If the guy we saw is even the real James Sharp.” She paused. “Although as of now Greg thinks it is. He had other corroborating ID—and he wasn’t expecting to be stopped or questioned.”

  “So what about the dealer plate?”

  She stared at the basket of ironing on the bed beside her. “It was a Lincoln dealership. The car had been out on a test-drive, returned last night.”

  “A test-drive to spend two days at a shabby apartment building in Shelter Valley?” David said skeptically.

  “Supposedly they were driving the car to an elderly relative who was interested in purchasing it.” Unable to make a decision, she reached into the basket and came up with Shelley’s new cotton skirt. Her daughter had insisted on wearing it to church even though Martha had told her it was two inches too short. It hadn’t been worth the battle. Maybe she could scorch it too.

  “They have records of everyone who goes out on a test-drive, don’t they?”

  “Just a copy of the driver’s license. Greg’s already seen it.”

  “I’m guessing the address on the license isn’t current.”

  “Nope.” The skirt was black. A scorch mark wasn’t going to be as glaring as on a white blouse. “Greg says there’s a fine for that if he’s stopped, but with driver’s licenses being valid for so many years in Arizona, a wrong address is not uncommon. When people move, they often don’t renew their license.”

  Shelley would probably wear the skirt, anyway, scorch mark and all. Just to spite her mother.

  Martha ironed carefully.

  She relayed a couple of other things Greg had told her. “There were no matches on the fingerprints. According to his office, Mr. Sharp is married, but I guess having an affair is nothing out of the ordinary.”

  She finished the skirt. Started on another blouse.

  “You aren’t saying much.”

  He hadn’t said anything at all for several minutes.

  “I need to make another trip to Phoenix,” he finally said. “I was debating whether or not to tell you about it.”

  “You just did.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I KNOW.” The sigh that accompanied David’s words revealed he hadn’t approved of his own decision.

  “Well, I’m glad you did.” The tip of the iron slid around buttons quite nicely.

  He didn’t respond.

  “I had a talk with Ellen tonight,” she said, although she’d intended to hang up.

  “She okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Frowning, Martha carefully ironed the cuff of one sleeve. “She seemed upset. More so than usual.”

  “How so?”

  “Not depressed or sad,” Martha told him, thinking aloud. She felt oddly grateful to have an opportunity to get her thoughts in some kind of order instead of having them constantly rambling around in her mind, getting tangled up with each other. “More like she was…agitated.”

  “Nervous?”

  “No, just unsettled. As though something was driving her from the inside out.” Martha didn’t know any other way to explain it.

  “Did she talk about anyth
ing in particular?”

  “Not really.” Martha wondered how much to tell him. And then, because Ellen had gone to him first when this whole thing began, decided she wasn’t being disloyal to her daughter in discussing the situation with him. She had to talk to someone in case there was something she was missing. Some perspective that would clarify her best course of action. Something she could do to help her daughter. “She told me Aaron said hello to her today.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. She ignored him, just as she’s done since she first broke off with him.”

  “Has he spoken to her before?”

  “She’s never said.”

  “So you think that’s what upset her?”

  “It didn’t seem to, but then, with her I never know anymore.” She finished the blouse, placed it on a hanger. Moved the phone to her other shoulder.

  “Don’t get discouraged, Martha. She’s dealing with a lot right now. She’ll be back.”

  “It’s kind of hard not to get discouraged when one day you have four children who share their lives with you and then seemingly overnight, you’ve lost touch with all of them.”

  “You’ve lost touch with Tim?”

  “He seems to have forgotten all the manners I ever taught him. And he’s forgotten I’m the boss and that when I say something, I mean it. I used to be able to tell that kid to do some chore and know it would get done. Now I have to yell at him.”

  “Does he do it then?”

  “Usually, yes.”

  “I suspect he’s going through some growing pains,” David said. “Coming into his manhood, throwing his weight around. This is usually a time when a father’s influence comes in handy,” he added softly.

  Martha picked up another blouse.

  “But don’t worry. He’ll get through it. And be the better for it. Maybe even better than if he had a father sitting on him all the time.”

  Okay, she could live with that. She’d just iron and wait.

  “What about Rebecca?”

  “She seems to be getting lost in the crowd. She used to bring so much joy to our lives, but right now it’s overshadowed by Tim’s unruliness, Shelley’s belligerence and Ellen’s despair.”

  “Joy is stronger than all of those.”

  Damn, but she was tired. Almost tired enough to settle for one of the preacher’s fluffy clouds. Just for tonight…

  “Stronger than all of them put together?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re full of it, you know, Marks?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to call him “preacher.” Or to wipe the smile completely off her face.

  It wasn’t like he could see it, anyway.

  “You’ll learn to appreciate me someday.”

  “Hmm.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Or was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she’d regret the words that came tumbling out.

  “So,” she said into the silence that had fallen. “When are we going to Phoenix?”

  “Did I say you were coming?”

  “That was the deal.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Unless you want me to tell Greg about your plans?”

  “I’m going tomorrow evening.”

  Tim had a game. One she’d have to miss. She’d call Phyllis. And ask Keith if he’d go.

  “What time?”

  “Around six. I wanted to get there just after dinnertime.”

  She was filming until five-thirty. “Perfect. You want to pick me up here or should I meet you someplace?”

  “I’ll come to your place.”

  And she’d be ready.

  This was for Ellen. For her family.

  Somehow, she was going to find a way to get them all through this, heal their wounds and put their lives back together.

  Moms could always make things better.

  SHELLEY CUT SCHOOL AGAIN Wednesday afternoon. She used to get nervous when she walked into the office with the notes on which Whitney had forged Martha’s signature—notes explaining that Shelley needed to be excused from school for counseling sessions, doctor and dentist appointments, or for having been ill. She hardly even thought about it anymore. Today the excuse was a trip to Phoenix to see her new stepmother, who was just in town for the day. She’d come up with that one herself. And didn’t even blink as the school secretary raised her brows when she read the note.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Except getting out to the hill. Drake was going to be there by one and if she wasn’t there and he started using and some other girl was around, he’d end up spending the afternoon with her instead of Shelley. He always apologized later. Once, when she’d been fed up and couldn’t bring herself to forgive him, he’d even cried.

  The solution was obvious. Shelley just had to make sure she was around before he started using. Every single time.

  That was okay. Because being with Drake was all she wanted.

  And the things he and Whitney introduced her to were cooler than she’d ever imagined. She was sure it was more of that meant-to-be stuff the preacher talked about—the way she and Whitney had been assigned as Chemistry lab partners. When Shelley had agreed to steal lab results from some other kids, so the two of them could cut school and go to the hill, Whitney had promised to leave Drake alone. Shelley felt she could handle life again. Nothing seemed scary or impossible when she was with Drake, getting stoned and lost in his funny smile, his intense blue eyes, his arms.

  She could even handle the sex if she was stoned enough. She’d hated it the first time. Drake had hurt her where she’d never felt pain before. Of course, it had still been okay. Because she loved him. And all the while he was doing it, he was telling her how much he loved her.

  Besides, it had been Drake. Not some jerk off the street that she didn’t know and didn’t want touching her.

  Anyway, lately, it had gotten better. She’d even come a couple of times.

  Her father could just go to hell. She didn’t need him at all anymore. And soon she’d be stoned enough so that Ellen and Mom and everything that had changed would fade away.

  She made it to the hill in time. Drake and his pals were just starting to light up and pass around the pills. Plopping down on the grass beside him, Shelley relaxed and waited for her turn. Drake’s arm came around her immediately, claiming his ownership. If this was her future, she could live with that.

  ON MONDAY AFTERNOON, visiting with an elderly woman, Edith Walton, who’d fallen and broken her hip, David tried not to notice any resemblance between her and the woman he hadn’t seen for twenty-three years. She had the same small, fragile build. The same almost triangular face. He wondered if, twenty years before, Edith had dark hair instead of silver. And if his mother was silver-haired now.

  Of course, this woman was about twenty years older than Elizabeth Cole. And she’d lived a less tortured life.

  “My granddaughter’s Monica Wilder,” Edith said. “She comes to visit every Sunday and repeats your sermons almost word for word.”

  The most recent of Edith’s breaks had happened just weeks before, but with her severe osteoporosis, she’d been pretty much housebound for a couple of years. She needed a wheelchair to get anywhere far and didn’t like to trouble her aging husband with hauling the heavy thing around.

  “I’m glad to know she’s paying attention,” David told the woman now, with a grin. “Sometimes I wonder if I should cut a CD of my best sermons for the kids to play at bedtime.”

  Edith laughed. And then winced. David helped her adjust the leg brace as she lay on the hospital bed that had been moved into her living room.

  “That’s better,” she said seconds later, resting back against the upraised mattress, a light film of sweat on her forehead. “Thank you so much, Pastor. You’re very gentle.”

  “You’re welcome,” David told her. “My job’s a lot easier than yours at the moment.”

  “That may be,” the woman said. “But I’m not so sure. You’ve got a lot on your
shoulders, taking on this town’s mistrust. And now that we seem to have a rapist here…” Edith shuddered.

  Seating himself in the chair by the woman’s bed again, the chair that had been vacated by her husband of almost sixty years when David arrived, he took Edith’s hand. “We don’t know that he’s still here in town, or that he was ever anything but a stranger passing through.”

  Silent, she seemed to consider that. And then nodded. “I can’t help wondering how everyone at Big Spirits is taking the news.” Glancing out the front window, Edith looked more sad and lonely than David had seen her in all his months of visiting.

  “You miss your friends, don’t you?” he asked her, wondering how long it would be before she’d be able to resume her biweekly visits to the day care.

  That wouldn’t be until her leg healed enough to get her back in a wheelchair, he realized. Bonnie Nielson had a wheelchair accessible van that would come and pick Edith up as soon as she could travel.

  “I really do, Pastor,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

  Well, then, she’d see them, David decided. He’d speak with Mr. Walton and Bonnie and see about arranging for a group of the more mobile occupants of Big Spirits adult day care to come to a small party at Edith’s home. They could have some kind of easy picnic lunch. He could be there to help with everything….

  Looking at Edith, seeing once again the resemblance to his mother that had struck him since he’d first met her, he wondered if his mother had ever had a party in her honor.

  “So tell me about your family.” David had hoped to cheer the old woman, not depress her. He didn’t want to mention the party until he knew for sure he could make it happen.

  “They got back not too long ago from a weekend trip to San Diego. From what I hear, everyone but Monica had a great time.”

  “Why didn’t Monica enjoy herself?” Had she and Shelley had some kind of falling out? He wondered what Martha had heard about the weekend.

  “She’s sixteen!” Edith said with an accepting smile. “Being alone with her parents for two days wasn’t her idea of fun. Said she was bored.”