Nadine bit back a rebuttal. She had asked for an objective statement and she had gotten it. That her grandmother’s words mirrored so closely what Clint had said was not collusion or a conspiracy.
“Okay. What about these?” Nadine handed her a few of the other articles she had written. “These are some old articles I’ve written over the years about Skyline.”
Barbara looked them over as well, her frown deepening with each one. “Funny that I don’t remember reading them.”
“You didn’t always live here, you know.”
Grandma gave her an oblique look that seemed to hold an edge of sorrow. “No. I didn’t.”
“Just read them please.”
Barbara pushed her glasses up her nose again as she continued. The room was silent except for the rustling of papers as her grandmother laid each one down beside her. When she was done, she sighed. “Why did you give me these?”
“I wanted a second opinion.” She looked away, choosing her words carefully. “Clint is having trouble with Skyline Contractors. In the past few years, each time I’ve written an article about them, they’ve threatened to sue us.”
Barbara gasped. “What? There was nothing about it in the ‘Court Docket.’”
Nadine resisted the urge to laugh. “It wouldn’t end up in there, Grandma. That’s for minor stuff. The major stuff gets handled neatly and tidily between lawyers who charge an arm and a leg to write threatening letters and file important documents back and forth.” She picked up the articles, riffling through them absently. “They’ve always threatened, but never followed through. The trouble is that it costs the newspaper each time this happens.”
“And this latest story...”
“Is newsworthy. I don’t know if they’d sue over it.”
“So why did you want me to read it?”
“Because I wanted to know if my boss was right.” Nadine hesitated. It was difficult to admit that she might have been wrong. “I wanted to know if I’ve let my emotions rule my reason.”
“I think where Skyline is concerned, you could never be completely objective.” She stopped, tapping her forefinger on her lips.
“And...” prompted Nadine.
“I know there was more to the story of your father’s death than what we were told. There was never a more careful and cautious boy than Sam Laidlaw. When that”—Grandma pursed her lips angrily—“slimy little man came to the door, trying to tell me that my son had done something unsafe and illegal...” Barbara glared at Nadine. “I was ready to go into battle. To prove them wrong. And I know you felt the same.”
Nadine nodded, surprised at this side of her dear Grandma. Meddling, yes, but confrontational?
“But,” Barbara continued, picking up her knitting again, “going into battle wouldn’t bring your father back, trite as that may sound.” Barbara knit a few more stitches, her needles flashing. “Your mother wasn’t content to let things lie. She fought, battled, argued, spent hours on the telephone. When she got sick, she needed someone to continue, to be her hands and eyes, and the job fell to you.”
Barbara paused, frowning at her needles. “I think your mother filled you with anger toward this company.” Barbara looked at her granddaughter with a sad smile. “I think your mother took all the anger from her grief and poured it into you. I know you had your own anger, but you have never been one to mope and feel sorry for yourself.” Barbara shook her head. “Your dear mother had a tendency to cling to righteous wrath. And when I read these pieces, I hear her anger, feel her pain.”
Her grandmother reached over and squeezed Nadine’s shoulder. “I want to know, too, the circumstances surrounding my son’s death. But, it happened six years ago, Nadine. I’ve seen you spend a lot of time on the phone, writing letters to the government, talking to government officials, the police, and other Skyline workers. It was easing off just before your mother died, but I sense that you think you’ve failed her by not finding out after all this time.”
Barbara slid over and slipped an arm around Nadine’s waist. “Don’t take on a burden that isn’t yours to carry. You really have to let God take care of this one. Let Him comfort you, let Him carry that weight.”
Nadine closed her eyes and let her grandmother hug her. At that moment, Nadine felt as if Barbara Laidlaw was taller and stronger than she could ever hope to be.
She straightened and picked up the papers. Shuffling them into a neat pile, she stared at them without really seeing them. “Was I wrong, Grandma? Was I wrong to write this? Was this a wrong thing to do?”
“I don’t think so, dear.” Barbara patted her on the shoulder. “You are a very good writer, very eloquent and very emotional. And someone needed to point out the mistakes. This company is not innocent by any means, but I think you are going about this the wrong way. Using the wrong tools.”
Nadine laughed shortly, thinking of how Clint was trying to protect his paper and how she was creating a problem for him.
“I think it might be wrong to have kept your anger going so long.” Barbara stroked Nadine’s hair tenderly. “You are a wonderful, caring girl. I’ve never heard you complain, or grumble, even though you carry some heavy burdens.” Barbara smiled at her granddaughter. “I’ve always been proud of what you have done in your life. Proud of the things you write, proud of the way your faith shines in your stories and articles. Maybe what you need to do is read over what you have written once again, for yourself, and see if what you know of God’s love is shown in these articles.”
Nadine nodded, realizing that no matter how much she thought she knew, she could always learn something from her dear grandmother.
Her grandmother stroked her hand. “More than that, I want to say that I love you, Nadine.”
Nadine looked at her grandmother and caught her soft, wrinkled hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek. “I love you, too, Grandma.”
Nadine gathered up her papers, stood and bent over to drop a kiss on her grandmother’s head. “Thanks, Grandma,” she said as she straightened. Her fingers feathered over her grandmother’s gray head affectionately and, smiling, she turned and walked down the hallway.
Inside her bedroom, she stopped beside the computer, tapping the sheaf of papers against the top of her desk, chewing her lip. She still had all her notes at the office. Most of the groundwork had been done, and the story had to be told.
But not by me, she reasoned, looking down at the articles she had poured so much emotion into. Too much emotion. Her grandmother was right.
Allison could do it. It would be a good lesson in working under the pressure of a deadline.
Nadine dropped into her chair, pulled out the keyboard, and, with a few quick strokes, deleted the story she had just finished. For a moment, she stared at the white screen, wondering if she had done the right thing.
As the cursor blinked at her, she sat back, a sigh lifting her shoulders and dropping the weight she had been carrying since she had first heard of the accident. Her anger had been ignited, and all the stories of Skyline’s misdeeds swirled around her head. She wanted to right what she saw as a wrong.
Now, it was as if the indignation had been swept away, the burning need to see justice done quenched under a blanket of peace. She bent her head, her fingers pressed against her face.
Thank you, Lord, she prayed, thank you for my grandmother and what she teaches me; thank you for my job and what I can do in it. Help me to make wise decisions. In all my life.
Then, as she lifted her eyes, a smile teased her lips. It was going to be all right. She didn’t need to be the one to personally see that Skyline was brought to justice as she remembered a poem that Grandma was fond of quoting: “Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; / Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.”
She had to stop thinking she was the one to do the grinding. Things would happen on their own.
Clint was right.
Nadine got up and stood by the window, her hand
s in her pockets as she stared out at the darkened street, her revelation creating a surprising warmth and peace. The town looked exactly the same as it had a few minutes ago, but now it seemed to Nadine that she could look at it with more benevolent eyes.
A car’s headlights swung around as it turned into their driveway. Puzzled, Nadine leaned closer, drawing aside the light curtain.
The car stopped, and the driver got out.
Trace.
What was he doing here? What did he want?
She dropped the curtain, and ran out of her room, determined to get to the door before Grandma. But, as she got to the kitchen, she realized she still wasn’t as fast as her grandmother.
“Come in, Trace,” Grandma was saying. “I’ll tell Nadine you’re here.”
I should have told her, thought Nadine, but now it’s too late.
She stepped into the kitchen as Grandma came in from the entrance. “Oh, there you are, Nadine. Trace is here.” Grandma wasn’t smiling, and neither was Nadine. Nothing I can do about the situation, she thought. She would have to do this with witnesses.
“Hi, Nadine.” Trace stood framed by the kitchen door. He held out his hand as Nadine unconsciously stepped back. “You left this behind a couple of days ago,” he said, holding out her sweater. “I thought I would return it.”
“Thanks,” Nadine said, reaching past her grandmother to take it from him. “I was wondering where it was.”
Trace glanced over at Barbara, but when she made no move to leave, he squared his shoulders and faced Nadine. He hadn’t shaved, his face looked haggard, heavy shadows circled his eyes. For a small moment she felt sorry for him. He looked worn and tired. “I’m really sorry about the other night.”
Nadine shook her head. “Don’t bother, Trace,” she replied. “We have nothing to say to each other.”
“We do. I need to talk to you. I have something to tell you that changes everything.” Trace plunged his hand through his hair, his expression pleading. “Please come with me. Please hear me out,” he continued.
Nadine didn’t answer, but she suspected that if she didn’t go with Trace, he wouldn’t leave until she heard what he had to say. And she preferred not to cause a scene in front of her grandma. She turned to Barbara. “I’m going with Trace for a short drive.” She put heavy emphasis on the word short. “I’ll be back in a while.”
Her grandmother scowled at her, as if questioning her wisdom, but Nadine shook her head.
As she walked past Trace, she caught a coat off a hook in the entrance and stepped out the door before he could open it for her. She shoved her cell phone in her pocket.
Trace started the car and drove down the street.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he turned left toward the highway instead of right toward downtown.
“I just want to get away from town, just go for a drive,” he replied. “I have a lot to tell you.”
“Can you start now?”
Trace glanced at her, biting his lip. “I don’t know where to.”
“What do you mean?”
Once he turned onto the highway, he sped up. The lights of town receded behind them, and Nadine felt a moment’s apprehension. Trace seemed distraught, and she wondered at the wisdom of going with him in his car.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” Trace said after a while. “I’ve had to make some hard decisions, and I haven’t been able to tell you about them.” He looked at her again, reaching out for her hand.
But Nadine kept her fingers wrapped around her jacket.
“What haven’t you been able to tell me about, Trace?” she asked.
Trace hesitated, his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. “When we met, there was an emptiness in my life I couldn’t fill.”
His words echoed thoughts that had tortured Nadine as well, and for the first time since he had started the car, she looked at him fully.
He glanced at her and smiled, and said, “I really care for you, Nadine. I do. I’ve never met anyone like you. Someone I could laugh with...” He paused and looked ahead again. “Someone I could admire and love.”
“But...” she prompted, sensing he had much more to say.
Trace shook his head, as if to deny what he had to do. “The reason I’ve been so evasive with you is that, well, I’m married.”
Married. Shock jolted her back into her seat.
Married. She had been dating a married man, spending time with him, laughing with him, and keeping him away from a wife, maybe even children.
“How...” she began, then stopped, unable to articulate her confusion and anger. “How could you do this?” she demanded, clenching her jacket. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“My wife and I have been living apart for almost eight months already, and I didn’t think it mattered.” Trace laughed shortly. “After I left Tina, I moved into a hotel in Sweet Creek. I bought the paper and would read your articles. I could tell that you had a strong faith, that you had a strength I was looking for. When I read the article about us going to the movie, I knew I had to come to the office. When I first saw you sitting there, I was stunned. You were, are,” he corrected, “so beautiful.”
“Why were you and your wife separated?” Nadine interrupted him.
“Tina and I are incompatible. She didn’t want to go to church, and I did. She didn’t want to raise our children to go, either.”
“You have children?” Nadine asked weakly. She dropped her head against the back of the seat, nausea filling her stomach. How could he not tell her?
“That’s why I haven’t been able to keep our dates. ’Cause of my kids. But, it’s not as bad as it sounds,” he continued hastily. “I’m getting a divorce, I’m trying for custody of the children. Tina and I already live apart. I came to Sweet Creek to make a new start, and then I met you.” He sped up. “Can’t you see? It was meant to be.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she said vehemently. “It was a terrible mistake. You have a wife and children.” She couldn’t get past that. “You went out with me when you should have been with them.” Nadine couldn’t continue, couldn’t think. Were there no more faithful people in the world? Paul, Jack, her sister, now this fake boyfriend?
“Turn around,” she said suddenly.
“Nadine, you don’t understand. I visited them when I wanted to be with you. But once the divorce is final and we’re together, with the kids—”
“Stop the car. I want you to turn around and take me back home. We have nothing more to talk about.”
“I won’t, Nadine, until you listen to me.” Trace twisted his hands on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. “My marriage to Tina was a mistake—”
“Don’t even try to explain away what you have done. You made vows and promises. You broke them each time we were together, and I helped...” Nadine couldn’t help the catch in her voice as she thought of the time they had spent together. “You made me an unwitting part of that, and I can’t forgive you. Not now.” She bit her lip, unable to articulate the anger and frustration that flowed through her. “Bring me back home, Trace. Now.”
He slowed down, and Nadine breathed a sigh of relief. But when he pulled in to a field and stopped, fear gripped her heart. Trace turned the car off and turned to her. Panic shot through her as she kept her eyes on him while fumbling for the door handle. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Nadine.” He reached out to touch her hair. “I would never hurt you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Her fingers continued to scrabble at the handle. Please open, please open, she prayed. With a quick jerk, she yanked on the handle. She jumped out of the car, and stumbled as her coat fell out of the car and tangled around her legs. The interior light of the car shone feebly on the freshly plowed field. She tried to run, tripped on a lump of dirt, and regained her balance.
Trace got out of the car, and she tried to increase her speed.
“Nadine, don’t run. You’ll hurt yourself,�
� Trace warned.
She kept moving awkwardly, her feet unable to keep up to her head. Hurry, hurry, she urged, her ankle twisting as she hit another furrow, unable to find even ground.
“I’m not coming after you, Nadine. Just stop.” His voice came from farther away and she spared a glance over her shoulder.
The car was well behind her, and she could see Trace’s figure silhouetted against the open door of the car.
“Come back, Nadine. I’ll drive you home.”
Still she hesitated. She was too far from town to walk back, especially in the dark. But she knew she couldn’t be with him one second longer. She shoved her hands in her pocket, thankful she had brought her cell phone. “Just go Trace. Just leave.”
Then he banged his fists on the roof of the car, startling Nadine. “You have to change your mind, you have to!” he yelled. Nadine took another step back, ready to run again. Trace sounded out of control, and she was frightened.
“Trace, calm down. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Please, Lord, send him away, she prayed.
He waited a moment as she poised, ready to run again.
Then, thankfully, he jumped into the car and slammed the door shut. He started it up and gunned the engine. Dirt flew as he backed out onto the road. Then he left.
Nadine watched the glow of his taillights as they receded in the distance, the roar of his engine growing fainter as the chill of the evening made itself known.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark. A pale crescent moon hung in the sky above her, shedding a faint illumination on the land.
For now, all she could see was that she was walking in an open, plowed field. Across the road was another open field; and to her left, a row of trees marking the quarter line; and beyond that, more bush.
“Don’t panic and don’t cry,” she told herself as she picked her way along. “You did the right thing.”
The furrows were deep and hard, and the lack of light made it doubly difficult to walk. She shivered in the chill wind, and then pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket. One feeble little bar, barely enough reception to make a call, and the “Battery Low” sign was on.
Her Heart's Promise Page 16