The Shadow: Someone is Watching (Rahab's Rope Series Book 1)

by Kimberly Rae

  Meagan found Cole in the kitchen, fiddling with the pipes under the sink. “You said they needed two hours to dry. It hasn’t been that long yet.”

  “I know. Just thought I’d check them.” He didn’t lift his head.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He stilled. She waited, unsure if he’d heard her. When he cleared his throat, she sat at the table. “What is it, Cole?”

  He looked at her then and she thought of a young boy making mac and cheese for his baby sister, pretending it was a gourmet meal so she’d feel special. “This whole afternoon.” He cleared his throat again. “These people, and you.” He shrugged but the gesture was offset by the husky drop in his voice. “It’s like family. What I’ve always imagined family should be like.”

  “You miss it,” she whispered.

  He shook his head and turned back to the pipes. “You can’t miss something you never had.”

  His bandaged hand rested on top of an overturned bucket set on the floor outside the cupboard. She touched it, placed her hand over his, and he went still again. When he turned to her, his eyes held unshed tears. Meagan felt her own respond in kind. She knew what to say when teenage girls sobbed in her arms, but had no idea what to say to this giant of a man who may have never allowed himself to cry in his entire life. “Brianna brought the pizza before I could get to that cut on your hand,” she said softly. “Now might be a good time while we wait for the pipes to dry.”

  He nodded. “Okay.” He blinked several times, moved the bucket back into the cupboard, and by the time he sat at the table, the corners of his mouth were turned upward. “Just no stitches or anything that involves needles.”

  “You’ve got a deal.” A great cheer came from the adjoining room. “Should we go back in there so you can watch the game?”

  Cole’s eyes locked with hers while he shook his head. Meagan caught herself twisting the gauze in her hand, unable to look away. “Meagan...” he said.

  Nathan burst into the kitchen. “You missed it!” he told Cole. “Best play of the game. There are only three minutes left in the fourth quarter. It’s going to be a tight finish.” He tossed his empty drink can into the trash. “If it goes into overtime, we may have to order another pizza.”

  He left and Meagan’s eyes turned back to Cole. He smiled and she felt her insides quiver. “I guess we should—”

  “Come on, Cole!” Nathan yelled from the living room. “The linebacker just got an interception on the twenty-five yard line!”

  Cole stood and his smile spread, but it was still directed at her. “Yeah,” he said. “We probably should.”

  He led the way back to the living room and Meagan followed, hoping she wasn’t glowing or anything. She had to go back for the first-aid kit she’d forgotten, then had to go back for the gauze she’d dropped on the table when Nathan came charging in.

  Kelsey and Brianna shared the large green couch with Nathan, so all that was left was the smaller paisley-covered love seat. Meagan hoped no one would comment on them sharing it. Cole sat on the far side, closest to Pops in his recliner. She tucked herself into the near side, close to the edge, and unwrapped his hand to survey the cut. “Yikes,” she murmured. “Whatever got you, got you good.”

  “A window and I got in a fight.” He glanced at the cut. “The window won.”

  “I see that. Looks like you put something on it?”

  “Antibiotic stuff.”

  “Good for you. It’s beginning to heal.”

  With gentle touch, she cleaned the wound, rubbed more ointment into the area, then covered it with gauze and wrapped it. He watched her; she could feel it, but did not dare look up at him. When the bandage was secure, she turned his hand palm down, then up again. “I think this will do. Try to not get it wet.” She smiled and glanced up. “No snowball fights.”

  He smiled back and it took several seconds for her to register the unnatural silence in the room. She glanced around. “Is the game over?”

  Every eye in the room was on the two of them. Meagan felt the blush coming. “What?”

  “It’s getting kind of warm in here, don’t you think?” Nathan commented. Kelsey jabbed him in the arm. “Ow.” He poked her back and she giggled.

  “You know, when Meagan was little...” Pops began.

  Meagan braced herself. “Whatever he says,” she leaned over and whispered to Cole, “it’s bound to be embarrassing.”

  He chuckled and she caught herself grinning at him until she remembered everyone was still staring. She let go of his hand and scooted farther toward the edge of the couch.

  “She came home one day crying like her little heart was crushed,” her grandfather continued. “I asked her what had happened and she said she’d broken up with her boyfriend. She was in third grade. I asked her why, and she told me she broke up with him because he was too immature.”

  His belly laugh always got Meagan laughing too, no matter how humiliating his story might be.

  “Now when she got to high school, she had the same problem. None of the boys were serious enough about life for her. She always had passion, little Meagan did, even that year that she wore blue eye shadow every day and I called her ‘siren eyes’ because when she blinked she looked like a police car.”

  “Grandpa...”

  “I used to ask her why she didn’t find some guy in college. She told me guys weren’t looking for a girl who wanted to go to India.” He looked on her with pride. “She went to India anyway.”

  Kelsey cleaned up the cans and paper plates. “And I’m sure glad she did. We love having her on our team.”

  “This is starting to sound like a eulogy,” Nathan said, tossing his second can into the trash bag Kelsey held open. “You guys are getting me choked up.”

  Their guests cleared out too quickly to not be obvious. “See you tomorrow at church, Meagan,” Kelsey said with a hug.

  Brianna waved from the doorway. “See you Monday at the store.”

  “Seems all your friends had important things to do just now,” Pops commented. “Since I’m not too old to know a setup when I see one, I reckon I’ll rest my eyes here and take a little siesta.”

  Meagan didn’t bother to try to hide the blush anymore. “Oh, Pops, don’t tease.”

  He laughed and said to Cole, “If I didn’t tease her, she wouldn’t know I loved her. Now you two go somewhere else so I can sleep.”

  Cole began a polite goodbye, but Pops interrupted to ask Meagan to get his neck pillow from his room. On her way back, she heard him tell Cole, “...loyal to a fault. The people she loves, she’ll defend them to the teeth and stick with them for life. But she’s slow to make that choice.” Meagan felt her eyes widen. Grandfather’s voice was as serious as she’d ever heard it. “The guy who deserves her is the guy who can make her love him so much she won’t be too scared to admit it. Nobody’s ever gotten close.” She walked in to see him pat Cole’s arm and his voice went back to its usual tone. “Wish you the best!”

  Meagan raced into the kitchen before Cole turned and saw that she had heard part of their conversation. What was the deal with everyone trying to set her up lately? Did they think she was lonely? Miserable? Incomplete? She was going to have a talk with Pops. And then with Kelsey. And Nathan. And Brianna. Maybe she should just write the lecture and print copies to hand out at the store and save herself some time.

  “I think you’re all set up now,” Cole said as he came into the kitchen.

  “You’re telling me,” she grumbled, then startled. “Wait, what?”

  “The pipes. They should be dry now. Try turning on the water in the sink.”

  “Oh, right.” She turned the knob and bent down to look at the pipes underneath. “No leak. That’s great. Thank you. You saved us a lot of money, and me a major headache.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me stay. It was a great day.”

  Her smile toward him fell. “I’m sorry about what happened at Shady Grove this morning.”

&nb
sp; “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I’ll call Sadie tonight. She might not remember the morning at all.”

  “So if I went back, she wouldn’t remember me?”

  He closed the cupboard doors. “You’re thinking of going back?”

  “No, I mean, I just—oh brother.”

  He smiled. “I’m sorry for the way Steve is acting.”

  She shrugged. “I guess it’s his job. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either. Not after reading that note.”

  Cole removed the taped paper from the faucet and threw it in the trash can near the door. “You’re sure you don’t have any idea who it might be from?”

  “I’m sure. And that scares me.”

  He frowned. “Do you have someone you can call if there’s trouble?”

  “There’s always 9-1-1, of course, and I can call Nathan and Kelsey.”

  “How far away do they live?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “How long does it take 9-1-1 dispatches to arrive?”

  She thought of the last heart attack Pops had and shuddered. “Almost ten minutes. We’re a little ways out here.”

  Cole’s frown deepened. “Do you have a gun?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to get one.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I hate guns.”

  He pulled another strip of paper from under the grocery list, wrote something on it, and handed it to her. “I have a gun, and I live closer than your friends do. If you’re in trouble, call me.”

  She looked at the numbers on the paper and all the uncertainty Kelsey’s efforts had kept at bay came rushing back. Her voice was whisper soft. “I hope I’ll never have to, but thank you.”

  He seemed to sense her fear and put on a smile for her. “That’s rough on a guy’s ego—give a girl your number and she says she hopes she’ll never have to call you.”

  Meagan shook her head at him but smiled back. “Are you related to my grandfather?”

  He sent a searing look her way and she felt like one of those old Southern belles must have before they swooned. “I sure hope not,” he said.

  36

  Sunday, January 4

  10:00 a.m.

  Stephanie wobbled her way up the steps to the church’s main entrance. She should have worn flats. Steve hadn’t even noticed her whole new look except to throw out, “It’s nice to see you dressed for a change,” a comment definitely not worth the broken ankle she might get wearing these heels.

  The flared skirt of her turquoise and black dress fluttered around her knees. She smiled at the man who held the door for her and asked him where she might find the women’s Sunday school class. He was probably in his spot near the door to be helpful to visitors like her, but she wouldn’t discount the possibility that the interest in his eyes might be because she looked attractive.

  That morning, she’d tucked her wedding ring away in her top dresser drawer. Steve had commented on her bare hand, but she had countered, “I wouldn’t want anyone to ask me who my husband is.”

  “You could make up a name,” he’d said with a frown that almost looked like he cared.

  The makeup and the dress and the tight control-top hose squeezing her into a size closer to what she wanted to be infused a confidence she’d thought was gone forever. “No,” she said with a triumphant smile at his consternation. “I’d rather be single today.”

  He had not liked that answer, and she enjoyed the sweet taste of victory. She had not minded when Steve made her drop him off at the FBI office. It gave her a chance to show a little leg and leave him to worry how much would show when she sat in church—without him. His frown stayed in place the whole drive. He harped about how his case was life or death and how important it was that he solve it by five o’clock Monday.

  She might just forget to pick him up, as he’d forgotten to come home so many, many times. It would do him good to wait for her, to wonder if she was having fun out there, not thinking of him at all.

  The Sunday school room was more like a community center, large, with a kitchen on one side and room for twenty or so tables in the open area. A circle of eleven or twelve chairs had been set up in the middle. Only four of the chairs were filled so far, but Meagan Winston was in one of them. Stephanie sucked in her stomach and approached the group, careful with each step so she didn’t introduce herself by falling flat on her face.

  A woman named Kelsey talked with her first, and Meagan joined in, but Stephanie found herself distracted by the conversation the other two ladies were having.

  “He’s such a slob,” the one woman said. She had long eyelashes that looked suspiciously fake. “How hard is it to pick up a pair of socks? I find them everywhere. In the cushions of the couch. On the floor. One week I refused to pick them up, and he didn’t even notice! He just kept going until finally I collected them from all over the house and dumped them on top of his side of the bed.”

  “How many were there?” the second woman asked. She leaned forward and the charms on her necklace jingled like wind chimes.

  “Eight pairs! Can you imagine?”

  Stephanie knew she was supposed to be talking with Meagan, asking her questions about India, but she was hooked into the two women’s conversation. They sounded like they felt as frustrated as she did. “So what do you do when you try to get your husband’s attention and it doesn’t work?” she heard herself ask.

  The two women stopped and looked at her. “I gave up a long time ago,” the second woman said with a sigh that might as well have come from Stephanie’s own mouth.

  “Well, I’m not giving up,” the eyelash lady said. “I’m not his maid. We’ve been married two years now and he still—”

  A phone rang and Stephanie turned to see Kelsey rifling through her purse. “I’m sorry,” she said. She looked at the number and surprise crossed her face. “It’s from India.” She took a look around the circle, which by now had nine women counting Stephanie, and handed the phone to Meagan. “Would you take it?” she asked. Meagan nodded and left the room, speaking softly into the phone.

  So much for getting information out of Meagan for now.

  Kelsey began to address the group and Stephanie settled in for a half hour of boredom. She was shocked from the get-go when Kelsey said, “How many of you get irritated at your husbands because of something they regularly do or don’t do?”

  Every hand went up except Stephanie’s. She wanted to put both hands up, and a foot or two, but at the last second remembered she was playing single today.

  “How many of you have tried to get your husbands to change?”

  Again, every hand went up and a few complaints came out.

  “I tried that too,” she said. “It got me angry, defensive, resentful, and about ruined my marriage. How’s it working out for you?”

  Silence. The women looked down, fidgeted with their purses, or inspected their clothing for stray specks of lint. Stephanie wondered if she should go out into the hall, see if she could hear Meagan’s conversation. Steve said they needed the name of Meagan’s contact in India. She could be talking with the contact right now. But Stephanie couldn’t just walk out without a reason.

  Kelsey smiled. “I was praying one day about this exact thing,” she said. “I complained how my husband took me for granted, and didn’t love me like he used to, and I felt like he just wanted a cook and a maid and I was sick of it.”

  A few of the women gasped. “But Kelsey,” the eyelash woman said. “Your marriage is perfect.”

  Stephanie jolted at Kelsey’s peal of laughter. “Oh, Margaret, if you only knew! My marriage is made of two selfish sinners, and the only reason it’s any good today—and I have to say, it’s great—is because of the Lord.”

  Here’s where the religion speech comes in, Stephanie thought. Give to the church, or feed the poor, and your marriage is going to be fixed. Please. She crossed her arms and leaned back.

  “So for weeks I prayed that God would get my husband’s attention, and you know what
happened?”

  Several women asked, “What?”

  “He got mine.”

  She let that sink in. The lint-picking women got busy on their clothing again. After a full minute or two, she continued. “You see, my husband likes to leave his clothes on the floor next to his bed, or draped over a chair. He doesn’t see any need to put them away since he’ll probably wear them again. And if he doesn’t wear them again, he forgets about them, so they stay in a pile next to the bed FOR-E-VER.”

  A few women laughed. Stephanie kept waiting for the religion part.

  “But God sent a passage to mind one day that I quite honestly did not want to hear. It’s Colossians 3:23-24. I have it here. ‘And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward.’ And one more passage...Luke 6:38.” She seemed to notice the lady next to Stephanie was sharing her Bible with her. “This is Stephanie, everyone,” Kelsey said with a sudden gesture in her direction. Stephanie knew her face got a deer-in-the-headlights look. Now she’d never be able to sneak out. “Stephanie, would you read that verse for us?”

  The lady sharing her Bible pointed and Stephanie read quickly. She wanted all the attention off her as soon as possible. “Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For—” She halted. “Bosom? Isn’t that, like, the word for boobs?”

  A choking sound came from several directions. Stephanie clapped her hand over her mouth and mumbled behind it, “Oh, crud. I bet we’re not supposed to say words like boob in church.”

  Kelsey’s laughter was joyful, not mocking. “Stephanie,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.” She looked down at her Bible. “That’s an old word. Other versions say the giving will be ‘poured into your lap.’ And the rest of that verse says, ‘For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.’” She looked around the room. “God showed me that my husband wasn’t leaving his clothes on the floor to make my life miserable. But I, grumbling and complaining while I picked them up, was the one who was selfish and angry. My wrong in resenting him was much worse than his wrong in being forgetful or inconsiderate. I was not only damaging my relationship with my husband by my stubborn refusal to accept this one thing; I was harming my relationship with God.”