“I’m sorry, Sam. This news broke late yesterday. I knew you needed to rest. I planned on calling you this morning. Honest. In an hour. By the way, what are you doing up so early?”
“I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
“I’m repacking my things, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Justine’s disgruntled groan snapped in Sam’s ear. “No. You will do no such thing. Abe thinks you should stay put. If you come back to the city, the paparazzi will have a heyday. You’ve got to give Abe some room to square this thing away. Washington is merely trying to garner media sympathy. You had a tight case, Sam. Don’t let them get to you.”
“Against my better judgment, I’ll stay put. You’re right. Abe is more than capable of handling this.” Sam spoke the words for her friend’s benefit, but was unable to convince herself, logic screaming that Washington’s antics were way out of the norm, even for him. “Something’s not right about this, Justine.”
Hesitation.
“I’ll call you with an update, later. Don’t worry. Stay on course, and keep a low profile. These country types probably don’t even watch the news.”
Sam wasn’t the only one who’d underestimated rural people.
“Go back to sleep. Don’t worry. Remember Romans 8:28.”
“Well, I must confess, my Bible reading has been as sparse as my prayer life. But I remember the verse: “All things work together for good…”
“Remember the other part?”
“For those who are called according to his purpose?” Justine quoted it as well, her tone readying for a twenty-minute sermon, “soul-talks,” as she called them. Preaching should be left to ministers, not best friends. “You have to ask yourself if your, and I use the term sarcastically, dedication to this case is really stemming from some personal need.”
Maybe Justine should remember the verse in Matthew about not judging lest you be judged. “He’s sleaze, Justine…and he needs to be taken off the street…for good.”
“By whose judgment?”
“Duh…I am the prosecutor.”
Justine snarled. “That’s not what I meant. Oh…it’s no use trying to talk sense into you.”
“Still love me?”
“Of course. Now go back to bed. Bye.”
Disconnected.
Sam regretted her argument with Justine, but how could any good come from this mess?
16
Zack woke with a start, shaking off his dream. He’d been chasing Sam through Dawn’s Hope. She called out to him, but she wouldn’t stop running, and he couldn’t catch up to her.
He got out of bed and paced his studio apartment, his thoughts flitting from one thing to another like a housefly looking for sugar.
Within a few days, he’d be asked to become acting principal…what if Frank couldn’t come back to work? What if the school board wanted him to take the job permanently? There goes New York. Now, everything seemed as muddy as the baseball diamond. Why couldn’t he get a grasp on what he wanted?
Have you asked Me?
No, he hadn’t consulted the One he should have gone to in the first place. “So what do I do, Lord?”
Take My hand and put one foot in front of the other.
“To where?”
To the other side of darkness.
What did that mean? Why couldn’t God write him a letter or something? Zack remembered how Pastor Rick said that the answer to every question could be found in God’s Word, but first one has to be hungry enough to look for it.
His Bible reading of late had consisted of a few devotions he planned on using for the youth group and a Bible Study the young adult class was working on. He read like he would study for a test, cramming the info so he could lead without seeming ignorant, not with an expectation that God might actually bring clarity to the muddled existence of Zack Bordeaux’s life. He read for an hour and his spirit calmed. No great vision, but peace that God had a plan, a different plan than Zack’s, but most definitely a better one.
He closed his Bible, sat on the edge of his bed, his sofa during the day, and clicked on the television, flipping through the channels until he came to CNN. Was that Sam’s picture? Where did they get that one? Made her look twenty years older—and so unattractive.
He listened to the news clip, and a Voice within his soul roared. Sam doesn’t need a lover, she needs a friend. Will you be one for her now?
17
The sun glowed on the horizon, enough light for an early morning walk, and early enough to escape anyone who might demand an explanation of why she’d been on television.
She showered and dressed in record speed, thankful for her one good set of clothes. She pulled on her still slightly damp blazer then slipped on Tracey’s sandals. If Zack were still willing, she’d ask him to go with her to a nearby mall…later. First, more than clothes, she needed to get to a bank. With no usable credit card, no ready access to the Internet and no checkbook, she felt like a charity case. She recalled seeing a bank on Main Street. After her interview with Jonathan, she’d see if she could transfer some assets from her Manhattan accounts.
Flinging her purse over her shoulder, she tip-toed past Leon’s room where peaceful snores carried into the hall. She took the steps with all the stealth of an experienced burglar, and then grasped the soup-ladle door handle.
“That you, Sam? What are you doing up so early?” Sadie’s shrill greeting smashed any hopes of an alternate career as a thief.
“I thought I’d take a little walk before breakfast.”
Sadie tilted her head to one side. “You know, Sam, that picture on the television doesn’t do you justice.”
Had Sadie made an offer to talk? Sam released the door handle. Not much she could say to Sadie without divulging a past Sam thought buried with Daddy. Refusing Sadie a chance to “sit a spell” as she would say, seemed out-and-out rude. The woman was a fountain of energy, bustling to and fro like a chipmunk storing nuts—if not minding the store, then cooking up a storm; if not cooking, she painted; if not painting, she wiped tables and scolded Aaron for being out fishing too long. If Sadie thought Sam’s company worth breaking her routine, it was a gift of attention Sam could not refuse.
“Maybe a cup of coffee and some toast before my walk would be good. It was a long night.”
“Figured it mighta been. Course with you having your light on all the time, I never know if you’re asleep, or not. I’m up at four every morning anyhow. Gets powerful lonely in the mornings, sometimes. Aaron only rises early if he has a fishing date. Funny about men, hey? They’ll get up before the sun to bait a hook, but never ask them to get up early to run a vacuum cleaner.” Sadie laughed at her own joke and went into the lounge.
Sam followed, but Sadie had already disappeared into the kitchen. A conditioned sprinter couldn’t keep up with her.
Sadie trailed in with two mugs, a filled coffee urn, and plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and ham. “Already made up breakfast and it’s sitting in the warmers. So, no arguing. If you was up all night, then you’ve got to be starving. I know I could eat a team of horses. Mind if I join you?”
“Please do.”
Sadie plunked down the tray, filled the mugs and set the plates on the table, then scooted back into the kitchen with the empty tray and returned before Sam could open her napkin.
“Hope you don’t mind the mugs. I use the cups for our guests, but seems like coffee ain’t coffee ’less it’s in a mug. Funny how set we get in our ways over some things.”
Sam sensed Sadie’s rants had purpose. Like pumping the gas pedal, she revved conversation with banter before heading on the road to more important matters. Sam took a bite of toast and tested Sadie’s counsel while brushing off the crumbs from the tablecloth. “So you saw the clip about Darnell Washington and my photo of shame?”
Sadie sipped her coffee, a picture of confidence. “I don’t pay no mind to anything I hear on television. It’s like all those news channels decide what
’s true and promote that. Then they decide they’d better have the other view show up. I did happen to catch that report. Yes, indeedy.”
Frustration surged as Sam put down her toast. “Harlan Styles deserves to rot in hell. Life with no parole is too lenient.”
Sadie took a quick sip and winked. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”
“But he’s a murderer.”
“Ain’t a one of us that hasn’t butchered something in our life…guess that makes us murderers, too, in a way.”
“How many times do I have to apologize for killing that moose?”
Sadie laughed. “Not what I was getting at. I suppose you’ve had enough ribbing on that score. But here’s what I think. Every one of us has a heap of guilt inside. Some we deserve. Some we put on ourselves. Either way, at the end of the day, we’re all guilty.”
Not Sadie who was as kind as the day was long. “You’re the most guiltless person I’ve ever met. Except maybe you work too hard.” And that she bent zoning laws. “Other than that, there’s not a fault I can find. And I do have a discerning eye.”
Sadie laughed again, more like an ellipsis of snorts, three in a row. “You don’t know us yet, dear. Being a tourist town, we put our best foot forward to strangers. You’ll see us for our true selves if you stay here much longer. Ain’t a one of us that don’t have as many skeletons as a Gladstone. Some of us, though, have made peace with our ghosts.”
Sadie dangled the statement like one of Aaron’s minnows, and Sam dived in for the bait and waited for the yank. “What skeletons could you and Aaron possibly have?”
Sadie took another sip, a long one this time, before putting her cup down and leaning in. “For starters, Aaron and I both know we’re bordering on the illegal with the Lighthouse. We think it’s worth the risk.”
Incredulous that two intelligent people would do that. “Why?”
“It’s a long story. You see I ran a catering business in Vermont…very successful and owned three companies…one in Burlington, one in Brattleboro, and one in Montpelier. Thing is, it was so successful, I stopped going to church, stopped praying, and acted like I was the one who made it so good, instead of thanking God for his blessings.”
Unlike Justine, Sadie preached through her life, a quiet faith that shouted her love of God from morning to night. “I think I understand. My friend Justine, the one who wants to have her wedding in Haven, likes to preach at me a lot. She says I’ve let my career become my idol.” Sam smiled as she brought Sadie into the conspiracy. “She’s right about most things, but I refuse to tell her so.”
Sadie patted Sam’s hand. “I suppose we can let a lot of different things get between us and God. I sold my businesses when we moved to Haven, but God didn’t take the caterer out of me. When we bought this property, He put this idea into my head to turn it into a place of hospitality where we could share the gospel in a non-churchy way, for God’s profit, not mine. If I license the place, then I’d be right back into what took me from God in the first place. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” That is, Sam understood the motive, but Sadie still skirted the rim of a misdemeanor. “Ever thought of registering the Lighthouse as a non-profit?”
Sadie brightened. “Say now, that is a good idea.”
“I’m surprised Aaron didn’t think of it.”
“If the thought crossed his mind, he said nary a word to me about it. Course, the enterprises are in my name, not Aaron’s, he don’t want nothin’ to keep him from fishing, but he tolerates my hobbies and helps out now and again if it gets busier than I can handle. I’ll give your suggestion some thought. Suppose you could help me with it?”
“You don’t need me to do that. Aaron will know what to do. Besides, I won’t be here more than a few more days. I should get back to Manhattan by the week’s end.” If only she hadn’t promised Justine to stay a little longer. Some vacation, if all she could think about was the possibility Styles could go free.
“Aaron and me will have a little chat, then. Thanks for the idea.” Sadie put down her coffee cup, took a deep breath, staring at Sam with deadened eyes, sorrowful—the sudden change unsettling. Sam wrapped her hands around her mug.
“How long do you suppose Aaron and I have been married?”
“Guessing Tracey’s age, I’d say about thirty years.”
“Tracey’s my step-daughter. I don’t have any children of my own.”
Sam put her fork down and gulped as the eggs slid down her throat. She’d never been comfortable playing the priest, hearing other people’s confessions. Before Sam could object, Sadie kept on rambling.
“Aaron and I got married a week before we moved here, but we’ve known each other a lot longer.” Sadie paused. Momentary silence from a woman who could fill a day with chatter, probably was meant for dramatic effect…to give Sam time to digest that Sadie meant known in the Biblical sense.
“That’s our sin, Sam. Aaron and I met soon after he finished law school. He helped me get my catering business off the ground. We fell in love. He left his wife for me and planned on getting a divorce until he found out his wife was pregnant. Seemed the right thing to do was to try to make his marriage work. Separately, we started going to church, got our hearts right with God.”
To see them now, to see Tracey’s love for Sadie…the whole story was unbelievable. Why share it now?
“I never would have guessed. So how did you and Aaron get together? Is Aaron divorced, then?”
Sadie’s rosy cheeks deepened as she spoke. “You see, Sam. God is merciful, even when we act in ways that must disappoint Him. As I told you before, my business made me a powerful lot of money, and I was too busy to marry, although I had my share of suitors.” She pulled on her size 20 dress and chuckled. “You might not believe it, but I had me a good figure in those days.”
“I believe it.”
“About ten years ago, Aaron happened into a café I wanted to buy. We struck up a conversation, and he told me his wife had been gone a couple of years.”
“She left him?”
“Not by choice. She died of cancer.”
“So you started dating again?”
“Not right away.”
Sam glanced at the clock. Sadie kept stalling, like a reluctant witness during cross-examination. “So…?”
“Tracey got us together again. After her mother died, she found an old photograph of him and me. She got it out of him about the affair and that he’d seen me recently. When he told her I wasn’t married, she insisted Aaron try to take up where we left off.”
“And she wasn’t upset over the affair?”
“Maybe, at first. She knew her parents weren’t really happy together. Maybe she blames herself for that, though we told her over and over again it ain’t her fault she came along during a tough time for her folks. She wanted her father to be happy, and she’d leave the right or wrong of what we’d done up to the Lord to judge.”
Although Sadie’s story might be fodder for a Lifetime television movie, what did her confession have to do with anything? “I’m glad you and Aaron finally got together. You seem happy.”
“We are. My point is that when God forgives a person, the past is erased, and He doesn’t hold it against them, so why backpack our guilt and carry it around like that woman in that there story…you know…where she wore this A…”
“You mean The Scarlet Letter?”
“That’s the one. Our backpack of guilt is our scarlet letter, Sam. But, it’s something we put on ourselves, instead of other people marking us. God doesn’t make us wear an A …he erases our guilt, and we go and put it back on, sling that old backpack over our shoulders and parade around stooped over from the weight of our self-inflicted guilt.” Sadie took a long sip of coffee then stared into Sam’s eyes. “Tell me, Sam. Are you a Christian?”
“If you’re asking me if I ever asked Jesus to be my personal Savior, yes.”
“And now?”
Sam sighed as she relinquished a crumb of trust.
“I feel like God’s far away…maybe He’s given up on me.”
“If God didn’t give up on me, He ain’t giving up on you. More’n likely, God hasn’t budged…it’s you who’s taken yourself away from Him.” Sadie leaned back in her chair, her eyes moist with pleading. “Am I making any sense, dear? I’m not a preacher. And I’m not one to go spouting off my personal views or sharing my dirty laundry, either. But you seem like someone whose carrying a dozen backpacks.”
Did Sadie expect Sam to take a turn at this confession game? How could she talk about Daddy’s death, how Mama killed herself soon afterward, about the investigations, and being sent to live in Brooklyn with an elderly aunt, how her friendship with Justine led her to God, but that somewhere between law school and hitting that moose, her faith became less important than putting Styles away—permanently—Justice, Sam’s idol…Daddy’s death, her backpack?
She couldn’t even whisper the deed to herself, let alone tell someone else. Not even Justine knew the truth—only that Daddy died when he got run over by a truck. Although, by the time Sam returned from the Gladstone estate, her sins might very well be broadcast across the nation.
Sam seethed with renewed resentment. Juvenile records were supposed to be sealed, yet somehow people like Washington managed to get hold of them. What was his game? She could countermove by a petition to have him disbarred—there was certainly enough dirt she could dig up on the man—one notch higher on the sleaze ladder than Styles. Washington was too far ahead of that race, the damage he’d inflict might be terminal. Not only to her career. How would the revelation affect her friendship with Justine, who treated people according to sin classification? The uglier the sin the more Justine distanced herself. Once the truth was broadcast, Justine would never speak to Sam again.
What about the kind people of Haven? Wouldn’t they hate her, too?
Sam searched Sadie’s eyes, patient, like Mama’s, when Daddy went into rehab the first time.
The Other Side of Darkness Page 12