by Don Prichard
She gazed affectionately at her ward. She’d detected no guile in Crystal. Only confirmation that the warmth she felt in her heart toward her … and the bond her blocked memory screamed was real … tugged her in the direction of maintaining their relationship.
She had enough information now to adequately handle the tension between her memory loss and what had happened on the island. As long as Danny Romero and Jake Chalmers didn’t touch her and Crystal’s lives, there was no reason for her and Crystal to part.
***
A week later, a letter came in the mail for Crystal. From Jake Chalmers. Eve all but pushed Crystal into the living room for another couch conference.
“Jacob Chalmers is writing to you?” Eve’s tongue sharpened the words into hurled spears. This must stop!
The spears appeared to not even part Crystal’s hair as they flew over her head. Again without guile, Crystal said, “We write, like, every week. I'm almost done with my letter. It needs a special airmail stamp for overseas. Can we get one today, Mom?”
Eve stomped on her reaction to immediately forbid the correspondence. She took two big breaths to downsize her voice from shriek to normal. “I don’t like the idea of you writing to a man in prison.”
“But he’s only there because …” Crystal let her voice fall.
So she was the bad guy. Eve gritted her teeth. “It would be best to wait until he’s had his trial.”
For a long moment, Crystal said nothing. Then, “He’s fixing up Aunty’s house—my house now. He needs to write me about it.”
“How did he—” Eve’s shoulders stiffened as understanding dawned. “Your aunt made him your trustee.”
Crystal nodded. “Until I’m twenty-one, he’s in charge of my money.”
This was worse than Eve expected. The man had been given every advantage to manipulate Crystal and her money. Eve was remiss in limiting herself to only overseeing Crystal as her ward. To protect the child, Eve needed to know everything about Betty Parker, about her will, and about Jacob Chalmers.
And about the island.
Nightmares or not, she had to discover what had happened there. Somehow, Chalmers had bamboozled Betty Parker into putting him in charge of her estate. How big was it, and how could Eve kick the man out of power?
Crystal watched her from the couch, mouth drawn downward, body curved into a slump. Pity swelled Eve’s heart. She’d never let go of Crystal now. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll get it all straightened out. I’m going to contact your lawyer to find out how to coordinate Jake’s responsibilities and mine. In the meantime, how about if I read your and Jake’s letters? That will help me understand what’s going on.”
“I’ll get them.” With the fire of a zealot, Crystal sped to her bedroom and returned with a large bundle of rubber-banded envelopes. “These are all his since we came back from the island, and I’ll let you read the one I’m writing before we mail it.”
Eve set the bundle aside to read later without Crystal’s appraising gaze. So many letters! Surely they contained a gold mine of evidence to bring Chalmers down.
Chapter 51
October
Why did it seem as if God had put her in a long-distance hurdles race all summer long, and now into autumn? Eve’s footfalls beat a steady rhythm against the track at Ace’s Gym. Her breath labored from her lungs as she counted the frustrations she’d barreled into instead of leaping over.
The highest hurdle was her complete lack of success in finding the Sampaguitas. How could Danny Romero keep this “club” of trafficked Asian children so well hidden? In one way or another, she’d searched every inch of Chicago’s 234 square miles. Romero must be moving the girls around. She clenched her fists. Was he getting the lowdown from someone—a mole in the office perhaps? Something to talk over with Brad …
Jake’s letters to Crystal were another hurdle she’d bungled. No gold mine there after all. Thirty-five letters, and each glowed with good cheer and sage advice. Not one smidgeon of evidence for his manipulation of Crystal. The man was clever. She hated the helplessness of having to wait for him to blow his cover.
But the hurdle that sent her sprawling on her face was the one set up by Betty Parker’s will. Crystal’s lawyer had sent the dismaying information that not only was Jacob Chalmers the trustee for Crystal’s inheritance, but he was also an heir along with Crystal. Of all the crazy things Mrs. Parker could do, she had adopted Jake as her son! She’d created a moat around her castle that made it impossible to unseat Chalmers from his role as trustee, or to forbid Crystal from corresponding with him.
To her surprise, Eve learned Mrs. Parker had left money to Eve too. A smoking-hot million dollars. Was it a bribe? But for what? She ground her teeth. Her memory loss was its own long-distance hurdles race. The doctors were now saying she had retrograde amnesia—with no hope of recovery. The race would never end; she’d never cross the finish line.
She stopped, bent over to catch her breath, grabbed her towel to blot the sweat beading her brow. Wait. Was that Rock at the weights? Her heart perked at the sight of him. She had recommended Ace’s to him, and often they ended up at the gym at the same time. Lately it had become an occasion for them to catch a cup of coffee in the down time before Eve picked up Crystal from summer camp.
She sauntered over to him, liking the way his lips twitched into a smile when he spied her. His expression changed to a grimace as he set the weights down. Four hundred pounds for a bench press, not bad. “I’m glad you’re a friend and not a foe,” she teased. “You up for coffee?”
Rock rose to a sitting position, dismissed the man spotting him, and mopped his face with a towel. “Coffee it is.”
The way he said it suggested he’d go for a better offer. A bit of a hint from her, she suspected, and they’d start dating. Ha! That was the last thing she needed in her life right now. Still, it was tantalizing to contemplate the relationship as a future possibility. More than a possibility, thanks to her neighbor Robert Lopez replacing Rock in Marianne’s affections. The two were dating and often stopped by Eve’s apartment to hang out.
Should Rock’s niece Natasa be invited to Crystal’s birthday party? It would be interesting to see if the two girls hit it off. Perhaps she’d bring it up to Rock while they had coffee. It was a long shot with Natasa living so far away, but maybe she could come for a weekend visit with Uncle Rock.
***
Eve frowned at Crystal across the kitchen table. Putting on a birthday party for Crystal’s fourteenth was becoming an ordeal. “I don’t want Natasa to come to my party, only my church friends.” That was Eve’s first disappointment. The number grew until it exploded in her face.
“A party at ChuckECheese? Mom, I’m turning fourteen. That place is for little kids. I want the party here.”
Eve squirmed. That meant some moms would wait, sitting in the kitchen to chat. Which meant Eve being the odd woman out. No husband, no family growing up with other families in the church, and no idea of whose children were whose in the first place.
The explosion didn’t hit until after Crystal and the girls gravitated from the living room to Crystal’s bedroom, out of sight, out of hearing, freeing the mommy murmurs to focus on the girls. “Crystal is such a blessing to our youth group,” a mother said, leaning toward Eve. “She’s brought a genuine excitement and fervency to their prayer time for missionaries.”
“Oh?” Crystal hadn’t mentioned any prayer time, much less any missionaries.
“Our missionaries visit our church, of course, and talk to the youth group, but it’s not the same as being intimately involved in their lives like Crystal is,” another mother chimed in.
Eve pasted on a smile. Irritating that these women knew more about Crystal than she did. What missionaries did Crystal know, and what was her involvement? A carry-over from her Aunt Betty, perhaps?
“Crystal’s stories about the men grab the kids’ hearts, and my daughter prays for her assigned prisoner every day.” The mother laughed. “I’
ve started doing it too.”
“Prisoner?” A sense of foreboding hit Eve’s gut, and her stomach crunched into accordion folds. “Crystal hasn’t told me about that.”
“From Chaplain Jake’s prison ministry in the Philippines.” The mother frowned. “Crystal tells about each prisoner’s response to the gospel, and assigns him to someone interested in praying for him.”
Eve felt the blood drain from her face. “Are the girls writing to them?”
“No, just praying—”
“Because that’s the last thing you want—any kind of personal contact between the girls and the prisoners.” She could see the intensity of her words hit the moms like a slap to the face. But the message was too important to soften. Too dangerous to underplay. “I’m a federal prosecutor, and I can’t warn you enough of how prisoners will manipulate the emotions of young girls and young women. It’s a step down the road to sure disaster.”
She stopped as the mothers’ faces paled and alarm rounded their eyes. Alarm at her passion, or at Crystal’s endangering their daughters? Her rage dropped like mercury in a thermometer at the end of a hot day. She forced a weak laugh. “Prayer, of course, is a wonderful involvement.”
Should she tell them Jake wasn’t a chaplain but a prisoner no different from the others? Tell them that Crystal—the girl without guile—had lied? That Eve’s heart was broken, and it was all she could do not to bawl her eyes out in front of them?
No. She bit her tongue. It was better to talk to Crystal first.
She hadn’t felt this fragile since waking up in the Cook County Hospital sixteen months ago. From that time on, she’d done her best to put her life together, to assemble the scattered puzzle pieces of her memory, to move forward. But all that effort involved her mental faculties, not her heart. Her heart’s joy, next to God, was Crystal. Only the betrayal of Eve’s father and brother hurt worse than Crystal’s duplicity.
The awkwardness of Eve’s explosion shortened the party. Less than fifteen minutes later, the mothers herded the young birthday guests out the door. Crystal, giddy with success, plopped down onto the couch. “Oh, Mom, thank you! Everything was like, so perfect! I love this church, love my friends in youth group, love that they love me!” She giggled.
“Crystal.” Eve’s voice was sober.
Crystal’s elation vanished. She sat up. “Mom? Has something happened?” Panic sharpened her words.
“Yes. The mothers told me you said Jake is a missionary. A prison chaplain.”
“Uh-huh. We’re praying for the prisoners Jake tells me about.”
Eve blinked at Crystal’s bravado. “Crystal, you told them a lie.”
Bewilderment spread across Crystal’s face. “What lie?”
“That Jake is a missionary and a chaplain.” She let her vexation color her words.
“But he is! That’s not a lie.”
“He’s a prisoner, Crystal, just like the other men.”
“That doesn’t mean he can’t share the gospel with them. He’s in a foreign country, telling people about Jesus—that’s what missionaries do.”
Eve’s fingernails cut into the flesh of her palms. She wasn’t going to play semantics with a fourteen-year-old. “Does the church know he’s a prisoner? That he’s there for killing a man?”
Crystal’s mouth screwed into a pout. “He’s awaiting trial. He hasn’t been convicted of anything.”
“Do they know Jake is a prisoner?”
“No.” The word punctuated a huff.
“I want you to inform anyone you’ve told about Jake that he is a prisoner. By the end of next youth group.”
Crystal shrugged. “Okay, but it won’t make any difference.” She rose, snatched up her birthday gifts from the girls, and stalked stiff-legged like an indignant Pinocchio to her bedroom.
But it does make a difference, Crystal. Now I know I can’t trust you—especially anything you tell me about Jake.
She slumped into a chair, head aching, heaviness settling into her chest. Foolish woman! Deep down in her heart, she’d half-believed she might have been in love with Jake after all—the heroic, head-and-shoulders-above-other-men-Jake that Crystal described from the island. Stupid romantic notions, all of them based on Crystal’s integrity. She pressed her hands against her face.
Well, she was done with them. She got up, disposed of the trash from the party, collected the decorations and found a place to store them. The busyness helped clear her mind. Perhaps it was time she found reality in the man across the hall, who had given every indication he was ready to move ahead in their relationship.
Chapter 52
December
Jake stared at the number deposited in the bank account Betty had set up for him. “This can’t be right.”
“My thoughts too.” Detective Lee grinned at him through the prison’s front gate. “Perhaps the letter from Mrs. Parker’s lawyers will explain it.” He retrieved the bank statement he kept for Jake in running his account, and replaced it with a bundle of letters.
Jake selected the envelope from Parker, Snyder & Oakleigh, Attorneys at Law, opened it, and pulled out a sheaf of closely printed pages. He grunted. “This is going to take a while.” He read the first page and flipped through the rest. “Apparently the amount is not a mistake.”
Lee whistled a loud whoop. “You poor man, you’re a multi-millionaire!”
“I had no idea Betty was rich, much less this rich.” Jake shook his head. “I’d never have agreed to be her heir if I’d known it included an inheritance—especially one of this size. I’ll write and tell them to give the money to Crystal. ”
“I’m going to do you a favor, brother.” Lee reached through the bars and clapped a hand on Jake’s sweaty left shoulder. “I’m going to let you read the rest of that document before I mail any letter to them. That may be Mrs. Parker’s will you’re holding in your hand, and she may have special instructions for you.”
“Makes sense. But Lee, not a word of this to anyone.”
“No problem.” The detective headed for his car, then turned to hold up the letters Jake had given him to mail. “Here’s an idea for you: set up a private post office as a trade.”
Jake harrumphed. Another service the prison should offer but refused to prisoners. He sought refuge in his dorm room from the sewage stench and flies and read the letters from his children and from Crystal. Dana and Brett didn’t have the funds to fly to Manila for Christmas, so they were spending the holiday with a friend. Jake felt sorry for himself; even more so now that, with Betty’s money, he could have paid for their trip.
Crystal had already received news of her inheritance and was beyond excited. He unfolded the document from Betty’s lawyers and confirmed it included her will. He and Crystal inherited the same amount of money, except that Crystal’s was under his care as her trustee until she turned twenty-one.
In addition, there were gifts—among them, a million dollars to Eve, and ten thousand to Detective Lee. Jake chuckled. No wonder Lee had grinned. He must have already received his good news.
And what did Eve think of her gift? Now that Eve read his letters, he didn’t dare ask Crystal. She probably wouldn’t know anyway. Eve most likely would tell no one, perhaps even stuff the money away and not touch it, suspicious of Betty’s motive.
After reading the will, he changed his mind about refusing the money. Lee had been right about special instructions. Jake, at Salonga Prison we talked about your dream. If it hasn’t already happened, I’d love to be part of it through your inheritance. You’re a good man, Jake. However you spend the money, I know I can trust you to benefit others.
Excitement sprouted like newly sown grain and grew exponentially. His dream—so that’s why Betty had asked so many questions about it. Had even requested he draw a sketch for her. He found it and placed it inside the large envelope containing the land survey taken last spring. Hours later, he added a long letter, sealed the envelope, and addressed it for Detective Lee to mail. Hopefully, he
’d have to wait only a few days to see the warden to present the dream—his and Betty’s dream.
He jumped from his bunk and trotted, head ensconced in silver-lined clouds, to the front gate to make the appointment with Mendoza.
***
“I have a dream, Warden, that can make you and Salonga Prison renown in all the Philippines.”
December was usually the coolest month of the year, and Mendoza was about as cheery today as Jake had ever seen him. That pumped up Jake’s hopes all the more. There were no Christmas decorations in the warden’s office, but the desk of every office worker sported something of the season. Jake made it a point in his now-frequent visits to always greet every clerk and guard, and this afternoon they reciprocated his “Merry Christmas” with warm smiles.
“Fame at your hands is a frightening prospect, Prisoner Chalmers.” Mendoza’s snicker was as close to a laugh as Jake had seen the warden come. “What is this dream?”
“To design a new Salonga Prison. World-class. State of the art. There’d be nothing like it in the Philippines—perhaps in all of Asia—and you’d become the premiere warden of your country’s penal system.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Mendoza’s face. He stared wordlessly at Jake.
So, their dreams meshed! Jake’s heartbeat leaped like a racehorse out the gate. “I’ve sent a request to my former architectural firm for drawings to show you. I will cover the initial costs with a no-interest loan if it’s agreeable with you that the prisoners build it with free labor.” Actually, with incentives in the way of food and other amenities, but that was best addressed later. “The new prison will house more prisoners, with greater security—a model others will look to. It will be self-sustaining with food industries and prisoner trades to cover the cost of running the facility.”
“My prison works well as it is.”
“For zombies.” The words were out of Jake’s mouth before he could stop them.
Mendoza’s head jerked. His nostrils flared in a long inhale. “So you are the savior who will raise the dead?”