Nothing Sacred

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  But only as long as there wasn’t something more interesting going on.

  Like her sister’s rapist being caught.

  Shelley still couldn’t believe it. And sent thanks up to her ceiling every night when she lay in bed, trying to fall asleep. Ellen wasn’t her old self yet, and maybe never would be, completely. But Shelley had actually heard her sister laugh out loud three times that week.

  And she was glued to Aaron’s side again, too.

  The guy was a geek. But it was great to see Ellen being Ellen again.

  Next to Drake, there wasn’t anyone Shelley loved more than she loved her big sister.

  Nancy brought her Diet Coke since Blair, the waitress, was busy, and Shelley thanked her.

  “Your mom doing okay?” Nancy asked.

  “Yeah. They’re all at Tim’s game in Glendale.”

  Nancy nodded, chatted for another minute or so and then left her alone. Shelley would never have come into the diner except that she wanted proof that she’d been in town. If she was seen here, she could tell her mother to go ahead and check up on her.

  Because right after she finished her lunch, she was meeting Drake. And today was important. She had to talk to him. See if he’d be willing to let her live with him.

  The preacher had seen her coming out of the desert again the evening before. If he ratted on her, she was screwed. Mom would ground her for life.

  And Shelley wasn’t going to let that happen.

  She’d rather live on the streets, or in some slum with Drake, than in a cushy house without him. No one had ever loved her the way he did. Or made her feel the way he did.

  At least, not in a long time.

  Her hamburger and fries came. Squeezing the red plastic ketchup bottle, Shelley piled on the pickles, just like Dad had taught her when she was about three. It was how he preferred his burgers. She pushed the bun down so that the pickle juice seeped into the meat, sprinkled salt on the fries and took her first bite.

  The woman who’d come in was still alone, too. Shelley wondered who she was. Why she was there. Shelley wasn’t sure how much she liked her revealing clothes—that short top that left half her stomach bare and showed the tops of her breasts, too—not because she didn’t think it was cool and all, but because Shelter Valley had a lot of old ladies who were sensitive about such things and there was no point in hurting an old lady’s feelings if you didn’t have to.

  Another bite of burger, followed by a fry, just as her dad had taught her. The treat was always as good as she remembered. Every single time.

  Too bad her dad wasn’t.

  She’d called him that afternoon. She’d been thinking about it a long time, sort of as a last resort. He’d always given her whatever she wanted if she’d asked him right.

  Today she’d wanted him to say she and Drake could come out there and live with him long enough for her to finish school and Drake to get his GED. She hadn’t even gotten to the Drake part.

  Another bite of burger. Another fry. A sip of Coke to wash it down, even though that wasn’t supposed to be part of the burger ritual. She needed it so she didn’t choke.

  There’d been no point in asking her dad about Drake. He hadn’t even been willing to let Shelley come out. Said his wife was too busy getting ready for the new baby to take on the responsibility of a sixteen-year-old.

  And besides, their new house just had three bedrooms. His wife’s sewing room. Their bedroom. And the nursery.

  Burger only half-gone, Shelley dropped it back on the plate, smashing french fries with her fork as she waited for the embarrassing moisture to clear from her eyes.

  She wasn’t crying over the jerk.

  She wasn’t.

  The unknown woman was getting her food. She reached for ketchup. And Shelley saw the bracelet on her arm. It was made out of glass beads, just like the one Whitney had been raving about the other day. A designer bracelet that her friend was planning to steal from the mall the next time she was in Phoenix. Shelley wondered if the woman would be willing to sell it to her.

  Maybe used, she could afford it.

  A new one, she couldn’t for sure.

  And if Whit got caught and sent to jail, who would Shelley hang with when the guys all got so stoned they forgot whose girl was whose? Or forgot there were girls at all?

  Leaving money for her lunch, Shelley got up, walked slowly by the woman’s table and into the bathroom, waited long enough to have used it, and then walked back out.

  “Oh, hi,” she said, stopping by the table. “You new in town?”

  The blond woman shook her head. Shelley was pretty sure her hair color was fake.

  “Just here looking for an old…friend.”

  “I noticed your bracelet,” Shelley said. “It’s beautiful.” How did you ask to buy something off someone else’s body?

  “Thanks. It was a gift.”

  Well, that shot that. No one sold a gift. At least not a gift that you liked enough to actually wear.

  “Oh. Well, it’s nice.” Lame, but who cared? It wasn’t as if she was going to see the woman again. Shelley glanced at her watch. She had to leave for the hill now if she wanted to be there in time to talk to Drake before he got too stoned.

  Saying goodbye, she turned to walk away.

  “Wait,” the woman said, touching Shelley’s arm. “Do you have a minute? You might be able to help me.”

  She didn’t. But the lady was a stranger to town and… “What?”

  “Like I said, I’m looking for someone and I hoped you might know where I could find him.”

  “Sure.” That would be quick. “Who?”

  “David Marks.”

  “The preacher?” This sleazy woman wanted the preach?

  “That’s the one.”

  “Yeah, I know him,” Shelley said, something telling her it would be worth her while to have a seat, to talk to this woman.

  And when she did, the things she found out proved her so correct that she hardly even minded missing Drake at the hill. No telling what a woman scorned might say.

  She had to get home, to be there waiting when her mother returned. Finally life wasn’t shitting on her. If all went well, by tonight she’d be able to keep her room at home and still see Drake whenever she wanted.

  The preacher seemed to be the only one nosy enough to check up on her—to catch her in places she wasn’t supposed to be.

  And he was a liar.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MARTHA WASN’T AS surprised as she might have been had she had a little more time to dwell in the land of trust and faith and hope. As it was, she’d had barely a week. A great week. A week of long conversations with David, of two family dinners with him. A week of Ellen’s laughter and Tim’s victories on the ball field. Of Rebecca’s chatter and Shelley’s uninterrupted attendance at school.

  A great week.

  But only a week.

  Shelley’s news wasn’t really a shock. How could it be? Martha had only had a week to decide that this new man in her life wouldn’t betray her. A week to start believing his messages of trust and reassurance.

  You couldn’t believe completely in only a week.

  “What are you going to do?” Sitting on Martha’s bed behind her closed bedroom door, her sixteen-year-old looked a bit too much like the cat who got the cream.

  Still, she’d deal with Shelley later. As soon as she figured out what to do.

  “I don’t know…. I guess I have to tell everyone. They have a right to know.”

  “Just like you did with Pastor Edwards.” Shelley nodded, her bright eyes contradicting the solemnity she was trying to project.

  Right. In light of what she now knew, Martha was a little surprised that David hadn’t tried to follow in his predecessor’s footsteps. Edwards had been having an affair with a parishioner. Though it killed her to admit it, David probably could have been, too, if he’d tried a bit harder.

  Of course, Martha was a far cry from the beautiful woman Edwards had tak
en up with. She’d exuded sex appeal without even trying.

  When Martha had tried to be seductive, she’d still just been Martha.

  In control. Capable. Determined.

  Except for that time when David Marks had held her in his arms. Kissed her…

  Well, she was in control now.

  “I’m going to talk to him.” She announced the decision aloud as she made it.

  “Now?” Shelley was scowling. “It’s time for dinner. Besides, your jeans are all dusty from the ball field and that T-shirt has a brown smudge on it.”

  Wondering how Shelley had changed so much in such a short time, Martha promised herself once again that she’d help her second child find her way back to the person she’d been. Martha let go of the fact that Shelley was more concerned about dinner for herself—or for appearances’ sake—than for her mother’s hurt feelings. Shelley knew that David and Martha had become friends. The girl didn’t even seem to care that this was the second time in a year that the people of Shelter Valley had been betrayed by their religious leader.

  There was no way Martha could cook dinner right now. The smell alone would nauseate her.

  HE WAS AT HOME. His car was in the drive. But it took almost five minutes to answer his door. He welcomed her, but didn’t wait for her to enter. Leaving the door open, he headed into a room to the left of the foyer.

  Closing the door behind her, Martha followed him.

  Dressed in brown Dockers and a short-sleeved shirt, David was sitting quietly in an armchair in front of the large wooden desk in what was obviously his home office.

  He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at his desk. Had someone already told him what she knew? Surely it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. He must have known it would all come out.

  He must have known from the moment he made the decision to help Ellen.

  And he’d helped her anyway.

  Regardless, he was what he was. And he had to have known they’d find out.

  When he finally did lift his gaze, there was a hint of tears there, clouding the clarity of those whiskey-colored eyes.

  He was taking this hard. Harder than she’d expected, considering what she knew about him.

  “I…”

  If he was going to try to defend himself, somehow—to rationalize, explain, beg for forgiveness—he could save his breath. She’d traveled that road before.

  And knew that the remorse was secondary. It might hit a man hard, but only after he’d been caught.

  “My mother just died.” The bald words sent Martha to the chair next to him.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry.” She hadn’t even known he’d had living parents. “Is your father there with her?”

  With a blank expression, he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. Even as negligent as her father had been, she’d still been rocked to the core when he died. Parents anchored your existence. Or something.

  “Has she been sick long?”

  He shrugged. “Months. Maybe years.”

  “So you got a chance to see her?”

  He shook his head. Martha had no idea what that meant. There was so much about this man that she didn’t know.

  Or hadn’t known.

  “I haven’t seen her in twenty-three years.” He could have been talking to himself. The wall. It certainly didn’t seem like he was talking to her.

  “Oh.”

  Well, then. Obviously they hadn’t been close. Not that it still wasn’t awful to hear about the death of a family member. Especially a parent… Martha wondered what had happened to keep mother and son apart for twenty-three years.

  But didn’t ask. She didn’t want to be that close to him. Not anymore.

  “Are you going to her funeral?”

  He looked at her, then sat up in his chair. “I haven’t decided.”

  Martha needed to leave. To get away from his pain before she did something foolish—like take him in her arms to offer him the comfort her heart was crying to give. She’d come back another time.

  Later.

  After he fully recovered and was busy lying to them again.

  “Don’t go,” he said as she started to rise. The office was gloomy, getting darker as the day closed. David flipped on a lamp on the corner of his desk.

  Martha stood there, undecided about what to do.

  “Please,” he said, seeming to become more and more himself as the seconds passed. “You stopped by for a reason. I’d like to know what it is.”

  Still she hesitated.

  “Really. My mother’s in the past. Just something I have to deal with. And I will. By living in the present. Tell me. Why’d you come?”

  His words grew stronger with every one he spoke. The pain in his eyes was subsiding.

  “You seem pretty upset about something that’s supposed to be past.” Martha couldn’t forget his pain that quickly.

  “I just received the phone call.” He stood, too, and, with his hands on her shoulders, gently pushed her back into the chair. “I’d been hoping to see her once….”

  “I should come back later,” Martha insisted, standing again. “I’m not here with good news.”

  Nor did she want to be feeling compassion for him. This…this liar. This preacher.

  This…man.

  He frowned. Asked her to sit again. “Please, Martha, if you’re troubled, that’s even more reason to stay. Talk to me. It’s what I’m here for.”

  That reminder guided her back to the chair. He was there to be their moral example. To teach them about believing, and faith. He was supposed to preach a sermon tomorrow morning to an entire townful of people who trusted him.

  An entire townful of people who’d already been betrayed. By the minister who’d come before him. And now…by him.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t have a surprise visitor this afternoon,” she said, remembering how Shelley had found out about him in the first place. The woman who’d read about the prostitution arrests in the Phoenix newspaper, which named the minister who’d come out looking like a hero….

  “I’ve been out visiting all afternoon. Got home shortly before you arrived and came in here to listen to my messages.”

  “Shelley met a woman in town this afternoon. Said her name was Whitney. Just like her friend, you know?” Martha said, watching him closely. It took a second—a second when that tiny thread of hope actually reappeared. And then his face went cold. Hard. Still.

  “I guess you do know it,” she said. Handle this like an overflowing toilet in the woman’s rest room, she told herself. An unpleasant thing to deal with, but nonthreatening.

  The citizens of Shelter Valley knew how to survive. They’d been through this before.

  And so had Martha.

  “You want to tell me about it?” she asked with a calm that was so false, she could hardly believe he didn’t see through it. Or maybe he did…. She was afraid she’d end up laughing hysterically. Or crying with equal fervor.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you know,” he said.

  Fine. It didn’t matter to her how they did this. “The real reason you recognized what had happened to Ellen was that you were intimately familiar with a process through which men could purchase sex with a guarantee of complete anonymity.”

  Sitting beside her, he was studying her over hands folded at his mouth.

  “For more than three years you bought sex, on a regular basis, through an organization that happens to be the very same organization that you just exposed to the police.”

  This time his head dipped once to show her she was still on the right track. “You’d been working your way through night school at a particular business establishment that just happened to be owned by the man who is now Shane’s partner.”

  “I was a product manager.” David’s voice was calmer than hers.

  “The last time you were with Whitney was a few months before you entered the seminary. She was one of Shane’s women.”


  The accusation was unthinkable. Her face burned as she spoke the words to him.

  David didn’t flinch. He just nodded.

  “You don’t deny any of this.”

  “No.”

  “Do you have anything else to say about it?”

  “No.”

  No justification. No argument. No apparent remorse.

  It was the last that was more than she could bear.

  “I’m going to have to go to the town with this.”

  “You have to do whatever your conscience tells you to do.”

  No begging. Last time there’d been all of that. Justifying. Arguing. Remorse. And then begging.

  “What would you do if you were me?” She had no idea why she asked. Why didn’t she just leave? She knew what had to be done.

  Her heart—the one that was supposed to be all trussed up and safe—was breaking. And she couldn’t let him know that.

  “I’d tell them.”

  How could the man look at her with such a complete absence of guile, crucify himself like this?

  “And when you tell them, you might as well tell them one more thing. I didn’t just consort with prostitutes, as they say. I worked for the organization, as well,” he added tonelessly. “At the time, I had no idea there was a ‘business’ or that I was part of it. I didn’t hook up with a woman the way the ‘clients’ did. I met Whitney through a guy at work. But that doesn’t change the truth.”

  His resignation tore at her. “How were you part of it?”

  “I was the ‘higher up’ who checked credentials…left the business card…”

  Sitting there with the man who’d touched her heart as no one ever had before, Martha knew only one thing.

  Nothing was sacred.

  Nothing.

  THE KIDS WERE HAVING pizza when she got home. Martha barely managed a “No, thank you, I’m not hungry” on her way through the kitchen. She needed her room. Her bed. A pillow she could hold.

  A place where she could think.

  She had to tell the people of this town. But with minimum fuss. They’d been through so much this year. She could hardly breathe, realizing that she’d be the one to hurt them again. Whatever happened to the town she’d grown up in? With no mother and a mostly absent father, she could easily have felt deserted, lonely, afraid. Instead Shelter Valley had wrapped its arms around her. A safe haven. She’d always felt secure. Loved. Shelter Valley had always been a place where evil just couldn’t penetrate.