“We have to ask Angelina for it. First thing in the morning, I’ll go talk to her.”
“She’ll have to pay to get me out?”
“Yeah.”
Nick lay his forehead on the table at the unbelievable irony. Angelina would have to use money he’d made when leaving her alone, to give him the opportunity to come home to her now.
***
Angelina dumped half a bowl of uneaten cereal in the garbage. If Julius hadn’t called asking to see her, she’d still be asleep, blissfully unaware of the possibility the State Prosecutor might want to talk to her yet again.
She showered and dressed, then stood at the window watching through the morning haze for the attorney’s arrival. Then she thought, Why waste the time waiting when I could be painting?
She turned to the nearest easel, set aside the incomplete stormy desert painting, and lifted a blank canvas into place. She left the background white, gave a light gold shading to the corners. Across the middle, she sketched in pencil. Two hands—one masculine, one feminine—met in the center, their corresponding forearms disappearing at the edges. Their fingers didn’t quite touch. Their positions were opposite so the viewer would decide which one offered and which one received.
A knock sounded at the door. She dropped the pencil.
“A moment.” She glanced out the window. Surely, the Volvo parked below belonged to Julius rather than a state or federal government employee.
She opened the door.
“Thanks for seeing me.” He entered, carrying a briefcase. “This where you work?”
“For a while now.”
He glanced at the couch where her pillow and blanket rested. “I wouldn’t have known this building was back here if you hadn’t told me.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s so delicate it can’t be discussed over the phone?”
“First, I have a bit of good news. Unless State Prosecutor Simon is lying to me, he’s mostly persuaded you’re not involved in the real estate scam.”
“Since when?”
“Yesterday.”
“He questioned me again yesterday.”
“Yes, while new evidence was reviewed by his team. He received their report last evening.”
“What new evidence?”
“Angelina, I know you’re really upset with Nick right now. I know there’s been strife between you two for some time.”
“He confided in you about our marriage?”
“Not exactly.” He lowered his voice. “I need you to tell me the truth about something.”
“So you’ll know if Nick is lying?”
“So I’ll know what facts I have to work with.”
She needed to do something with her hands. She walked back to her easel, added an orange shimmer to the edges of gold. “Julius, just ask. No matter the condition of our marriage, I won’t lie simply to hurt Nicholas.”
He stayed silent, looking at the floor.
“Oh, I see,” she said. “Nick’s not the one you believe will be hurt. Well, it wouldn’t be my first wound.”
“Did you know Nick had a safe deposit box?”
“No.”
“Did Nick regularly try to give you gifts?”
“Yes.”
“Did you accept them all?”
She switched brushes to one with a fine-tip point and lined the nail beds of the feminine hand. “No, I did not.”
“Where are the ones you didn’t want?”
“I don’t know. He might have kept them; he might have returned them. I couldn’t tell you. Why do they matter?”
“Did he ever give you a sapphire and diamond bracelet?”
She remembered how delicate it seemed and stopped her work. She couldn’t paint and talk to him about this at the same time.
“He tried to.”
“A ruby choker?”
“I handed it back to him.”
“Do you remember a long, gold box?”
She placed her brush in a jar of solvent, wiped her hands on a rag. “I refused to open that one.”
The last time Nick had returned home from a long trip. When they’d fought over yet another unwanted gift. When she’d told him she didn’t even want them in the house.
“So, they were all gifts for you.”
The unspoken as opposed to someone else hung in the air between them.
“Yes. I was the intended recipient.”
“And you knew nothing of the safe deposit box?”
“Is that where he put them? I didn’t know.”
“Angie, yesterday we put a serious dent in the prosecution’s prospective case, but I need Nicholas out of jail and free to help prepare his own defense. I need him to think and work with me, rather than concentrating on surviving each day in prison. I need to know if you have the money to post bail. At the hearing tomorrow, I’m going to ask for bail in exchange for concessions Nick is willing to make. But I won’t waste a bargaining chip asking for bail if you can’t, or won’t, pay it.”
“I don’t know how bail works. Can’t the court consider the jewelry as an asset and use that?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Even if I give my permission? After all, they’re technically mine.”
Again, he looked at the floor. “Technically, they’re evidence.”
“As proof of what? Our arguments?”
“Simon sees them as proof Nick would use whatever means at his disposal to get the money needed to invest in PGI. He didn’t have to put them up as collateral, he was able to get the money without them, but he was willing to. It goes to motive and shows his determination. It’s a strike against Nick, and you. One of Simon’s theories is you told Nick to use them to secure the loan.”
“Which makes me what, an accomplice?”
“The official charge would probably be that of a co-conspirator.”
“So, I won’t be cleared of all suspicion unless Nick is.”
“Something like that.”
“And you need Nick out of prison and available twenty-four-seven to prove his innocence, and therefore mine, as well.”
“Yes. And I’ll have to hire a private investigator, as the state is so focused on Nick—and you—I don’t believe they’re looking at anyone else.”
“Then, as usual, I really don’t have a choice, do I?” She turned back to her painting. “Go away, Julius. Tell your client I’ll post his bail tomorrow if necessary.”
“I’m sorry.” He walked to the door.
“Julius? What was in the gold box?”
He handed her a picture from his briefcase. “This multi-layered necklace with a very large blue diamond. I’m told it’s valued at about one million.”
She remembered a younger Nick, standing in a cheap hotel room and making promises on their first night together. I’ll buy you expensive jewelry. A dozen new necklaces to wear all at one time, like you like to do.
She gave him back the photo. “Call me after the hearing.”
Julius left. She heard him tromp down the metal stairs, heard his car drive away.
She chose silver, then blue, and traced the edges of a multi-layered necklace dangling between the hands, its blue stone turned into the light.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nick was going home.
Five days later than he’d expected. Unsure if he’d get to keep his limited freedom, while he tried to convince Angie of his innocence and begged her not to end their marriage.
As he sat in his cell waiting while the appropriate paperwork was processed, his predicament seemed so unreal, he expected to wake on a plane to find the day was last Friday, and he’d not yet landed in Alabama.
Now, the officer opened the main door from this block of cells with the customary buzz. Nick thought that might be one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.
They walked to what looked like an old-fashioned teller window, complete with visible black lines running through the glass. Bulletproof?
“Go through it, Mr. Rousseau. Check off the list, make sure everything’s in there.”
“My luggage?”
“Guess that wouldn’t have fit in a bag, huh? Eloise!” He called to the woman behind the counter. “We got his luggage back there?”
“Come get it. It’s standing in here by the door. I’ll buzz you through.”
While the officer retrieved his luggage, Nicholas dumped the bag’s contents onto the table. His clothing. Wallet, watch, cell phone. Half a package of mints.
His wedding ring. He slipped it on, then shoved the rest back into the bag.
The officer returned. “You can change in the restroom there. Send your scrubs and sandals down the chute.”
Nicholas entered the restroom and closed the door behind him. He hadn’t had a private bathroom moment since last Friday.
Come to think of it, normal privacy—no, anonymity—might soon be a thing of the past. Until now, both the State Prosecutor and the FBI had kept Nick’s involvement and the investigation a secret. But today’s hearing would be a matter of public record. Soon, Nick might be contacted by the media to “give his side of the story.” Julius had urged him to make no statements. Not to watch the news or pay any attention to the outside world.
So Nick changed quickly into his wrinkled suit and dress shirt, his dirty socks, and joined the officer.
“If it’s all there, sign the inventory sheet and give it to me.”
They rode the elevator down to street level. The doors opened.
Pierce greeted him with a handshake. “Julius said you could use a ride. Hope you don’t mind sharing the backseat with a two-year-old.”
“I don’t mind. I’m grateful to be going home.”
Even though he didn’t know what he’d find when he got there.
***
“Ree-ries! Ree-ries!” Hope yelled from her car seat beside Nick in the back of the car.
Laurie turned to Pierce. “Hear that? That’s Hope-speak for French Fries. She’s already learned about the beauty of the drive-thru. If she yells that, give in. The battle’s not worth fighting.”
“We’re getting pretty close to supper,” Pierce said. “Hey, Nick. Should we grab a couple of pizzas and take them with us?”
“Pee-zup,” Hope said.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Nick said. “My phone battery’s dead. Maybe give Angelina a heads-up we’re bringing food and what time we’ll be there.”
Laurie ordered pizza. “Done. I’ll text Angelina.”
They neared Rowe City and passed the bright red water tower. Pierce slowed as he drove around the city square, past the courthouse and Benson’s Hardware, past the Downtown Diner.
At that moment, Nick wished he could walk the street hand-in-hand with Angelina.
“Laurie, you went to see Angelina on Saturday?”
“I did.”
“How was she?”
“Not knowing her very well, I’d say she was reserved and sad. Skeptical about me being there. Pierce, here’s the pizza place.”
They picked up supper and continued on. The quaint town gave way to residential housing and a two-lane highway. Then, frame houses set back off the road and surrounded by fields. Fencing lined the street on both sides, sectioning off dormant farmland.
“Peez-up. Peese. Peez-up.”
“Just a minute, Hope.” Laurie pulled a cup with a curved straw out of a diaper bag. “Nicholas, will you hand this to her?”
“Sure thing.”
He gave the baby the drink. Hope gulped it down.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you two been married?”
“Over nine years,” Laurie said.
“You ever had real trouble? A crisis you thought might end it all?”
In the front seat, Pierce and Laurie exchanged a look.
“I think every marriage does.” Pierce glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Including ours.”
“I think Angelina’s going to leave me. I think—without trying, mind you—I’ve finally killed her love for me.”
Saying it aloud left him feeling as if he couldn’t breathe.
“I think she’ll never trust me again. Never let me anywhere near her or her heart.”
Again, Laurie’s eyed locked with Pierce’s.
“I think you should tell him,” Pierce said.
“I don’t know,” Laurie half-whispered. “She didn’t say it in confidence, but … Nick, after all you’ve been through the last few days, I can’t stand the thought of you being blind-sided again.”
“Did she already file for divorce?” His lips went numb on the words.
“Not that I know of. But she did move out of your home. Apparently, she’s been living in the carriage house for a while.”
Hadn’t she mentioned renovating the space to use for an art studio? He’d listened in passing, remembered seeing for all of two seconds the loft-like, long, open room. It had been full of bugs and dust and cobwebs. Maybe that’s what she’d done with some of the money he’d given her to spend last year.
“I think I’ve broken almost every promise I ever made to her. Except fidelity. I’ve never been unfaithful.”
Although looking back, he hadn’t exactly been faithful, either.
He thought back to the morning’s hearing in the bland beige and wooden room. Much smaller, much less grand than any courtroom he’d seen on a television show or movie. Hearing the prosecutor’s accusations, then Julius’ defense statements, while Nick sat listening to the results of his bad decisions. If his behavior in his marriage were under the same scrutiny he’d endured since being arrested and during the hearing, would he even try to defend himself?
“Can a couple rebuild when they’ve messed up ten years of marriage?”
Pierce slowed and turned in at Nick’s driveway. He stopped and looked back at Nick.
“My parents would say marriage seldom works well without both spouses listening to God. I’m inclined to agree. And I’d add, listening to God and being obedient can be the hardest thing you’ll ever do, even when you love someone. There are those who keep score. Those who suffer in silence. Those who keep trying, then one day wake up and believe they have nothing else to give.”
“I think that last one’s Angelina. Partly, anyway.”
He surveyed the fenced pastures, the slope of land to the pines. He’d risked it all, might have lost it all, including his wife.
“Nick, would you describe yourself as a practicing, growing believer?” Pierce pulled forward down the long driveway.
Nick shrugged. “No. It’s like every promise I made to Angie. I’d start out consistent, get distracted or committed elsewhere, and stop. I never stuck to faith or any of the things I knew I needed to do to know God and grow spiritually.”
“Then that’s where you start,” Pierce said. “Right now, above all else, you need God’s wisdom. To know what to do for yourself and for Angelina. Whatever your first instinct is, don’t follow it unless you know that’s what God wants you to do.”
“My relationship with Angie is completely broken. No magic formula is going to repair it.”
“It’s not a magic formula,” Laurie said. “Asking God for wisdom and being obedient is the only way you’ll have a hope of sowing good things into your marriage.”
“Hope! Hope!” The toddler beside him obviously recognized her name.
“Yes, that’s my girl, Hope.” Laurie reached back and took her child’s cup. “Angelina texted me back. She’ll meet us at the main house.”
“Can you guys stay for a bit?”
“If you want us to,” Laurie said.
Nick remembered when he’d come home for their seventh anniversary, and Angelina’s prickly demeanor had made him feel unwelcome and unwanted. Cut back your work. Sell some assets. Give her you.
The gentle thought had come so quietly, he
’d easily brushed it aside, telling himself he had to make money first. There would always be time to do all the things Angie wanted him to do with her. He’d had no clue ignoring that Voice would lead him where he was today.
***
Angelina walked the lane to the main house. She wanted to keep her space exactly that—hers. She didn’t want Laurie or Pierce, or especially Nick, plopping down and staying until they were good and ready to leave. So, rather than inviting them all to join her, she was going to them.
You’re paranoid, she thought. Always expecting to be left behind or left out. Yet no one could argue with her experiences.
Yes, Laurie had seemed nice enough on Saturday, but Pierce hadn’t been around. Laurie could change in a second, especially if she felt threatened by Angelina.
She pulled the collar of her jacket tighter around her neck against the evening’s gentle breeze. In the flickering twilight under the canopy of pine trees, a squirrel scurried across the ground in front of her. For safety’s sake, she removed a flashlight from her jacket pocket, scanned the earth around and ahead of her. Snakes shouldn’t be wandering; the night air was too cold for them. Still, one couldn’t be too careful in the south.
She approached the front door and realized she hadn’t brought her keys. She rang the doorbell.
Nick answered. She could tell by the look on his face he wanted to reach for her but chose not to. Because Pierce and Laurie were here? Or because he knew she wouldn’t want him to?
“I didn’t have Julius call you to come get me today because I figured you didn’t want to be alone with me. I asked Pierce and Laurie to stay, but I can ask them to leave if you don’t want them here.”
“It’s fine.” Honestly, she didn’t want to be alone with him.
He opened the door wider. “It’s chilly out there. Come in from the cold.”
She stepped into the two-story foyer, stopped, and braced her heart. She hadn’t been inside since mid-November. Seeing the glossy floor, the ivory damask-covered walls, the twin Louis XVI secretaries, and the carefully selected artwork was more a shock than she’d expected. She couldn’t begin to count the hours or dollars she’d spent with Rita creating the perfect balance of light and dark, new and old.
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