by Erin Healy
“That doesn’t sound like punishment,” Lexi said.
“It wasn’t. Over the years, jubilee came to refer to a time when sins were forgiven and debts were canceled, not collected. Whatever that guy was talking about, it’s the opposite of what jubilee means traditionally.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Maybe it is. That bit about punishing the children for the sins of the mothers—that’s off too.”
“Off how?”
“The biblical version is that children are punished for the sins of the fathers.”
“I don’t see why the children have to be punished at all,” Lexi said. “His riddles are getting muddier.”
After a few seconds of silence, Gina said, “It seems like he’s twisting truth.”
“That’s a leap.”
“Not if you believe the Bible.”
“Maybe it’s a problem that I don’t know the Bible better.”
Gina shrugged. “There’s always grace, Lexi.”
“Is there grace for Molly?”
“Especially for Molly.” Gina’s smile was a glimmer of hope.
The clock in Lexi’s mind was ticking down on Molly’s terrible situation, but she had nowhere to go, no leads to follow. Her heart was breaking. Lexi grasped for something, anything that would tell her more about what Ward wanted and where he might be.
“If he is twisting the truth, why? What do you think it means?”
“It reminds me of when the devil tempted Jesus. Satan quoted Scriptures to do it.”
“That’s dumb. Wouldn’t Jesus know the Scriptures better than he did?”
“That’s right. And Jesus used that knowledge to beat Satan back.”
“I’m not Jesus.”
“No, but maybe this guy Warden is hedging his bets that you don’t know the truth—that he can twist it up and sneak it past you, make you think he knows something that you don’t.”
“He knows plenty that I don’t, starting with where my daughter is!”
“Listen, Lexi. I’m going to go out on a limb here, but listen for a minute. He says he wants to collect your debts—but your debts have already been forgiven. He says he’s going to punish your daughter for your sins.”
“But my sins have already been forgiven.”
“Exactly.”
“So what is he talking about?”
Gina sighed and bit her lip.
Then Lexi remembered her original reason for wanting to talk to Gina. “Ward wrote something on the sign-out sheet at Molly’s school. He said the reason he took her was because of an unpardonable sin. What’s that?”
“Rejecting Christ.”
“But I’m a Christian. I haven’t rejected Christ.”
“Lexi, if Warden’s messing with Scriptures, he probably didn’t mean that literally.”
“That’s no help at all!” Lexi shoved her fisted hands into her pockets. She wanted to hit something! Instead she was poked in the knuckle by Angelo’s note.
She pulled it out and read it to Gina.
“Don’t listen to Warden Pavo. Listen to love, which keeps no record of wrongs. Choose love, and it will save you even now. Molly too.”
“That’s from 1 Corinthians.”
“What is?”
“The part about love. It protects. It doesn’t hold grudges. I’m having an idea about all this.”
“Spill it, then, before I fall apart here.”
“Jesus told this story about a guy who owned a king a boatload of money. The man couldn’t pay it back, so the king ordered that his family and all his belongings be sold. The man begged the king to give him more time. Well, the king felt so sorry for this loser that he canceled the whole debt! Just let him go.”
“Like jubilee.”
“After that, the man went out and bumped into a friend who owed him just a little bit of money. When the friend wouldn’t pay up, the man beat him and had him thrown into prison. Well, the king found out about this, and he was peeved. He said, ‘I completely pardoned you when you asked me to—why couldn’t you do that for someone in the same boat?’ So he had the man thrown into prison and allowed the jailer to torture him until he could pay back his original debt, the whole whopping amount.”
The jailer. The warden. “That’s not fair. How can you pay back a debt if you’re behind bars?”
“I know! And tortured! The man couldn’t exactly get a paying job in jail, you can bet on it.”
“I don’t get how this relates,” Lexi said, and yet understanding was beginning to take shape.
“Ward wants to collect a debt, but you’re already forgiven. Angelo says love doesn’t keep track of wrongs.”
“That’s right.”
“Lexi, whose sins have you decided are unpardonable?”
{ chapter 35 }
Warden swore under his breath.
I forgive you?
I forgive you?
The shock waves of words Lexi should never have spoken to Grant hit Warden square behind the knees and dropped him onto the shiny floor of the Bedrock Mall. He recovered quickly and swore again, loud enough for Molly to hear.
She was balanced on her good leg, leaning into the upper-level railing that was a balcony overlooking the food court. She turned at his profanity, then averted her worried eyes and scanned the tables below. Likely looking for Daddy to rescue her from the big bad wolf.
How had this happened? Twisted perceptions were his area of expertise. Warden Pavo could spin a lie of any kind—lies of the mouth, of the ears, of the eyes. Especially lies of the eyes. And the heart. Few human emotions were more powerful than resentment, and by exploiting this fact he had been promoted from dealing with heathens to dealing with the selfrighteous more than nine hundred years ago.
He among an elite few had succeeded, while his colleagues fell like wasted flies every three weeks. Why? Because he had no interest in spectacle. He had no need of heavy hammers and cataclysms, or of murdered pets and spectacular car crashes. Instead, he struck with understatement in the blind spots of the human soul. Not only did people never see it coming, it never occurred to them when it happened that anything other than justice was at stake.
Deceive and divide. It always worked.
It had worked on Barrett and Alice Grüggen. Their name meant grudge, which was why he’d chosen them, and Barrett’s parents before them. People lived up to their names because they didn’t know how to create new identities for themselves. Lexi couldn’t even marry out of it!
And yet, Lexi’s three magic words had changed . . . not quite everything, but enough. Enough so that he wouldn’t be able to linger here as he’d wanted, securing Molly’s trust and loyalty.
Smothering her ability to trust the people who actually loved her would have to be enough.
Warden reduced his fury to irritation and joined Molly at the railing.
Above them, skylights filtered out UV rays and made the fast-food pit below look appealing. Down there, at the bottom of an escalator, a water feature designed to resemble a mountain range ran the length of the court and cut the dining area in half. Pumped water rushed down the peaks like river rapids, sprinkling the live plants on either side.
The scents of sweet funnel cakes and chlorinated fountain water mingled with the stench of starchy Chinese food and stale, recirculated oxygen.
“What’d I tell you? Pretty, huh?”
“It smells funny.”
“Quit complaining.”
Molly dropped her chin toward her chest.
“Pay attention, little lady. I’ve got a lot to tell you and not a lot of time to do it in. Look there. See?” Warden pointed to a bench built into the side of the fountain. The gray stone slab was bolted to the artificial rock and flanked by precisely arranged aspen trees.
Molly looked at Warden’s finger.
“The bench.”
The girl’s face was a question mark.
He got behind her and placed his palms on either side of her face, forcing it in th
e direction of the seat.
“See that bench?”
When she nodded, he let go.
“That bench is the reason your mom never comes to this mall.”
“Why?”
“That’s where Tara died. Got a knife shoved right up under her ribs”— Warden made a thrusting motion with his right arm—“and bam, gone. No last supper, no dying words, just a slippery pool of blood and a few surprised Christmas shoppers who were a bit peeved to get their gifts dirty.”
Molly was frowning at the bench.
“Who’s Tara?”
“Who’s Tar—ha-ha! Who’s Tara? Oh, this is lovely.” Grinning, Ward leaned his elbows on the railing and tilted his head into Molly’s line of sight. She bit her lower lip. “Your aunt. Your mother’s sister.”
“Mom doesn’t have a sister.”
“Not anymore she doesn’t.”
Molly’s eyebrows formed a worried peak. “I’d be sad if I had a sister and she died.”
“Think about it, Molly. Why isn’t your mom sad?”
“She is sometimes.”
“There’s a reason you didn’t know you had an aunt.”
Molly tilted her head and looked back at the empty bench.
“Your mom killed her.”
The girl’s eyes snapped back to Warden. “You’re lying.”
“Nope. The reason your mom never told you about her, and the reason why she’s never sad about it, is because she did it.”
“I don’t believe you. My mom would never do anything like that.”
“Doesn’t change the truth.”
Molly hugged herself and glared at Warden. She raised her voice. “You’re a big fat liar.”
“Ask her yourself.”
Lexi’s daughter huffed.
“Ask her yourself, little lady. You’ll see. But think about it: if she could murder her sister and go home and wash off all that blood and never think about her again . . . what do you think she’ll do to you when she finds out you know?”
Molly’s eyes didn’t waver from Warden’s, but she started to flex the knee of her good leg—bend, straighten, bend, straighten—a quick and nervous fidget that caused the joint to bump the wall.
“What do you think that picture was all about? The one with the bull’seye on it?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Did she explain it to you?”
“She said she didn’t do it.”
“Of course she’d say that! What did she say about why she won’t let you see your dad? You want to know the real reason? It’s because she’s in love with another man.”
Bend, straighten, bend, straighten.
“She’s been in love with a lot of guys, actually,” Warden went on, “which is kind of like having five best friends all at once. Well, sort of. You know what an affair is? No? It’s a lot like murder, as far as the gross-factor goes.”
Molly’s expression was a portrait of confusion. Warden put an arm around the wobbling child and leaned in close to her ear, dropping his voice to a whisper as he explained the seedy truth of what it meant to be an unfaithful wife. Molly stilled as if her movements would prevent her from hearing every delicious word. Or perhaps shame froze her. Either way worked for him.
When Warden ended the story of Lexi’s lurid choices, Molly was a statue, eyes locked on her shoes.
“Your aunt Tara tried to stop her, and she didn’t want to,” Warden said. He straightened but left his warm hand resting on her shoulder. Like a father would do. “That’s why your mom killed her.”
Molly didn’t move. She said something to the floor.
“Speak up, girl.”
“When will my dad get here?”
“Soon.” Warden checked his watch. “He is running a little late, isn’t he? I hope he didn’t forget.” He formed a pity pout for Molly but she still wasn’t looking at him.
“He won’t forget,” she murmured, lacking conviction.
“He’s a busy man. I mean, seven years’ worth of busy can distract a guy. I’d understand if this little luncheon slipped his mind. Or maybe . . . maybe he was too embarrassed to come. Did you know he was in jail? Didn’t mention that in his letter, did he?” Ward whistled. “I mean, go figure. You mom sleeps around and slashes up her sister and doesn’t do a single day behind bars—can you imagine what your dad must have done?”
Molly was squeezing her own waist, glancing over her shoulder in search of the man who was simply not destined to arrive.
“Let’s go eat. And talk some more. What do you say? We’ll give him the time it takes to eat a double-dipped cone, and if he shows, we’ll eat again.”
“I want to go home.”
“No can do. Your mom’s not off work yet.”
“Grandma will be there.”
“What’s your problem? I’m giving you a chance to eat dessert first, a shoulder to cry on, answers to all the questions you’ve ever asked, right here on a silver platter. What do you want to go home for?”
Molly’s chin puckered. “I want my mom.”
Warden felt his irritation morphing into something greater than it should’ve been. “Suck it up. You can’t go home. She’d as soon kill you as feed you breakfast, the self-righteous b—”
“I don’t care.”
“Of course you do. Your dad doesn’t want you and your mother never loved anyone but herself.”
“She loves me.”
“Does not.”
“Does too.” Molly lifted her face and begged. “I wanna go home.”
“There is no home is what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You’re a liar.”
Warden was so inclined to spit fire that the saliva in his mouth sizzled and evaporated. He barely held himself together, keeping in mind what happened when Craven lost his cool.
“It seems we keep repeating ourselves,” he said. Warden placed his hands on his knees and lowered his nose to hers, stopping shy of her going cross-eyed. “Prove it. I dare you. Prove I’m a liar.”
Her knee started flexing again.
He said, “I can show you all the truth you need to know, little lady. Letters, pictures. Eyewitness testimonies.” Her brows came together, confused. “I can be very convincing.”
After a brief pondering, Molly said, “Even if you’re not lying, it’s okay.”
He swore and straightened. “I can see your mother has been a fine moral example to you.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t know a thing about right and wrong.”
“Yes I do!”
Ward seized the child by the arm and shook her. “Until you know how to be offended, you don’t know a thing.”
“I love my mom.”
“Why?”
“’Cause she’s my mom.”
“I have never heard a more flimsy excuse!” He shook her again and rattled the tears right out of her head.
“I love my mom.”
“She doesn’t deserve it! You should stop!”
“She loves me too, she does, no matter what you say. And she’ll say sorry if I ask her—”
“No she won’t.”
“And I’d tell her”—sobs chopped up Molly’s words—“it’s okay . . . and that I . . . love her anyway.”
“Stop it!”
“You can’t . . . make me!”
Warden had the stubborn girl by both arms. She was a mere doll, as weightless and worthless as a cheap toy. Only saints had patience and selfcontrol enough for this, and he was no saint at all.
He heaved her over the rail.
{ chapter 36 }
Gina’s insights sent Lexi stumbling outside the hospital into afternoon light that had no right to blaze so cheerfully. She staggered toward her rickety old car, knowing exactly where she needed to go and yet not wanting to.
For Molly, though, Lexi placed her keys in the Volvo’s starter, turned over the engine, and weaved out of the parking lot.
She was as angry as she’d ever been since
the night Ward showed up almost a week ago, demanding that she testify at Norm’s hearing. Ward was some black angel, some executioner sent to cut off her hands and feet and then dig out her heart because she couldn’t find it in her to ignore everyone who’d hurt her. It was hardly fair. Grant, Ward, Norman—nothing bad that had happened to her in the last few years would have happened if not for their contribution to her problems.
Lexi turned south onto the main boulevard and drove for several minutes without focusing on her surroundings. She was entering a major intersection when a blaring horn alerted her to the red light. Both of her feet hit the brakes of their own will, and she cried out.
A driver in the cross traffic swerved around her and made an obscene gesture.
Lexi’s heart pounded. She sat, protruding into traffic, with no will to get out of the way. Her car was anchored in the same place where Mort’s truck had been T-boned, where Molly had almost been killed by Norm’s transport.
Human collisions wrecked lives every day, in cars and other encounters. Lexi was no one special.
And yet Gina’s suggestion that Lexi ought to forgive rankled. Unearned forgiveness was so unfair. Wasn’t it? Grant, now, she had believed he was contrite. And above all, Molly needed her to forgive him.
But as for the others, why should she?
Choose love.
Choose love. Love had chosen Lexi, in the most magnificent form of grace.
The answer seemed as glaring as her windshield. She must do it not because they deserved it, nor because it was justice, but because her own sanity demanded it. Her daughter’s breath depended on it. Because love was the only choice that led to life instead of death.
Pain and grief broke through Lexi’s indignation and she started to sob into the heels of her hands. More horns sounded behind her. Her light had turned green. Swiftly, without seeing everything she needed to, she jerked the car through first gear and across the street. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her white oxford shirt and tried to get enough control of herself to avoid another crash.
Within five blocks she was sniffing and puffy-eyed, but resolved. She turned off the road and followed a small rural highway five miles out to a solitary complex, a fortress of lookalike buildings isolated from the rest of town. There was no paved parking lot here, only a dusty clearing enclosed by chain link.