by Nancy Moser
Annie went into the living room, needing to sit. “No, speculate. Speculate. I can't think of a single reason Cal would be in Eldora. On a Sunday morning.”
“Maybe we should go,” Merry said.
Only then did Annie realize they hadn't followed her into the living room but stood in the entryway as if eager to leave.
She stood. “Maybe you should.” She opened the door for them.
“Call me?” Merry said.
Annie could only nod and shut the door.
What was going on?
She returned to the couch and clutched a pillow to her chest. The logistics of Cal's deception loomed large. In order for him to go to Eldora—twenty minutes away—do his “errands,” and return to be home when she and Avi returned, he had to have left the moment they did. There hadn't been time for him to haphazardly decide to do errands. And what was open on Sunday mornings anyway? No. There had to be something in Eldora, that was a given. A draw. Something constant so that when he found himself with a free hour or so, he could go. Without hesitation.
She gasped at her first thought.
It was the only thing that made sense. They'd had an argument; he got upset. He'd run into the comforting arms of a mistress! That he would be satisfied with spending such a short time with her meant that his feelings were deep and the relationship long-standing. He was willing to drive forty minutes to see this other woman.
Annie pushed the pillow against her face and screamed into it. “No!”
There was no other explanation. None. Merry and Ken had figured it out, too. The fact that Cal had been upset on the way home from seeing his lover was proof that leaving her caused him grief; coming home to Annie was not something he relished.
How dare he betray her like this! She'd always been faithful. Their marriage was good, their love real. How could he run into the arms of another—?
Because you've run into the arms of another Man. You re not just “his Annie” anymore. You re His Annie.
She let the pillow settle into her lap as her mind wandered over the past months—and before. Cal hadnt been himself for far longer than her conversion. She hadnt allowed herself to acknowledge it because she'd been doing her own searching. She'd justified the gap between them with the thought that all married couples go through times of restlessness, apartness, as if every so often a time of readjustment was needed.
Truth was, they'd both been searching. Annie's search culminated in the Praise Show and finding a true faith. Had Cal's search culminated in finding another woman? Had Annie been too caught up in her own changes to notice?
She bit the tip of the pillow. Out of anger. But also out of guilt. It was partly her fault. She'd caused him nothing but trouble with all this God-stuff. Talk about rocking the boat… After ten years of marriage, they'd created a nice life. Not perfect, but totally acceptable. And then she'd suddenly dragged Jesus into the mix, making waves, causing a storm. Cal hadn't asked for this. No wonder he'd run into the arms of another woman. What calm and comfort had Annie provided lately? Constantly challenging, changing. Wanting him to change.
Or were her looks to blame? Though she'd put on a few pounds, she was far from fat. She was also far from stunning or glamorous or a zillion other words she imagined described this mistress. Annie tended to do the quick and easy with her long hair, pulling either part or all of it up. And makeup? Two strokes of mascara and a little Chapstick were all she had time for. Yet Cal had never complained. He'd always liked her natural style.
Until he was confronted with the wows and wiles of someone who put being sexy on a front burner.
Oh, dear, dear, dear.
As far as her homemaking skills? She looked around the messy room. Why couldn't she ever get caught up? Annie shook her head. She couldn't even start letting her doubts gain wings in that direction.
Her jaw hurt from clenching, and she forced herself to relax and let the pillow live. Actually, maybe that was a good idea all around. Relax and let her marriage live. She was getting carried away. She had suspicions but no proof. She simply had to stop watching those soap operas with all their guilty husbands and vindictive wives.
Annie took a fresh breath and let the moment find new direction. Was Cal guilty? Was she? Either way there was room for improvement. She tossed the pillow down and stood. She'd make it up to him. Starting now.
Cal had no idea what he'd find when he got home from the park. Would Annie still be in bed, pouting? Would she be waiting for him at the door, arms crossed, ready for a fight? Or the third alternative: Would she apologize for her actions, they'd make up, and everything would be back to…?
He was going to say normal but except for brief snippets of time, he wasn't sure what that was anymore.
He pulled into the driveway, and Avi scurried inside. She wasn't nervous about what she'd find.
Neither should he be. Buck it up. Be a man.
He slammed the door of the truck and headed in, trying to calm his stomach between here and there. He was only partially successful.
But when he got inside he was greeted with the smell of spices.
“Look, Daddy! Mama made pumpkin pies.”
“I can smell them.” He hung up his coat.
Annie took a step toward him. She'd put on his favorite green sweater that looked wonderful against her red hair. Speaking of hair, hers was down and curled. And was the blush on her cheeks makeup or natural? It didn't matter. She was lovely.
“I thought it would taste good after being out in the cold air,” she said.
He searched her eyes and was relieved to see that in spite of everything, his Annie's eyes were as intoxicating as ever.
He extended a hand in her direction. She took it. “I'm sorry, Cal. I don't mean to upset you. Things will be better. The same as they used to be. I promise.”
He pulled her close, covering his confusion with a hug.
What had brought this on?
What did it matter? Crisis averted.
Jered sank into a chair in the corner of the kitchen of Palamba's and closed his eyes. He'd never been so tired. It wasn't that he couldn't handle a nine-hour shift, but the shift, added to the lack of sleep because of the booze run, added to the stress of the DVD payoff…
He heard footsteps and his eyes shot open. But it was only Vasylko.
“You beat?”
“I'm beat.”
“Why? You strong. You work long before.”
“It's not the dishwashing; it's…I've been doing some extra work for Jinko.”
Vasylko started to nod, hesitated, then finished the motion. He looked behind him. They were alone. “Be careful. Jinko nice man but…” He shrugged. “Not good for boy to get…” Not finding the right word, he interlocked his fingers.
Hooked up? Does he know? Jered sat forward. “Have you ever…helped him?”
The cook waved his hands. “No, no. I won't.” He pointed to his eyes. “But I see. I see.”
“Why don't you…turn him in?”
Vasylko nodded as if he'd thought about it, then fished a necklace from under his shirt. It was a cross. “I try to help with this.”
A necklace?
“I talk to Jinko about cross. Show him the Way.”
Jered wanted to laugh. He couldn't imagine Jinko ever listening to anyone talk about God-stuff, especially if it meant he wanted Jinko to stop dealing. And whatever Vasylko had said, it obviously hadn't worked.
Vasylko held the cross out. “You believe?”
“In God?”
“In Jesus.”
If he told the cook he'd never thought about it much, he was afraid he'd get a sermon—in heavily accented, broken English, no less. He wasn't up for that. “Sure. Christmas. Easter. Sure.”
Vasylko smiled. “More to it.”
Jered stood. “Hey, I'm beat. I gotta go home and sleep.”
The cook put a hand on his shoulder. “You go. ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’”
> Sure. Whatever.
Tired as he was, Jered didn't go straight home after his shift. He drove to Valley View park on the edge of town. Since it was dark, cold, and after nine, no one was there. Which was fine with him. One thing he'd learned to do in the past three months was be alone. What surprised him was that he liked his own company. And even though he had his own separate space at Jinko's, being there, near Jinko, was not the same as being alone.
He left the truck and sat on a picnic table, zipping up a heavier jacket he'd found in the garage. Only one light was on in the parking lot behind him, but it was annoying. It ruined what he wanted to see. So he jumped off the table, found himself a small rock, and threw it at the light. He missed. He heaved another and another, until rock met glass.
And the night went dark.
But not dark.
Jered climbed back onto the table, his face raised. This was what he was looking for. Stars. Billions and billions of stars. The sky was a dome around him, an inverted bowl so rich in its blackness that it seemed it would have substance if you could only reach far enough and skim the curve with a hand.
As a kid he'd always liked the stars. He used to go to a deserted barn on the edge of town, climb up in the loft, and look out at the night sky—until the houses of Steadfast got too close and messed up the view with their lights.
People getting too close. That shouldn't mess things up, but it usually did. That or the lack of people getting close. Why couldn't it ever be just right? Why did the wrong people get close at the wrong times and the right people ignore him?
His dad, sure. But he was only the worst offender. There'd been others in his life. His mom started it, leaving when he was a baby. Why'd she have him if she didn't want him? He and his dad had done okay for a lot of years, until his dad started to love his stupid restaurant more than his son. Why did he do that? Jered couldn't think of anything hed done to make his dad change so much.
Then there was Merry Cavanaugh. The town librarian. Steadfast was better for having her move to town. She'd cared about Jered. She believed in his music and had helped him look stuff up on the Internet.
Jered would have liked to get closer to Merry. Sure, she was older, but not that old. And she was alone just like he was. Her husband and son had been killed in a plane crash a couple years earlier, so she was ripe for some companionship, right? But maybe not. She'd had a shrine to them in her backyard. Sick stuff, holding onto the dead like that. Jered had done her a favor by tearing it apart.
And what about Sim? That annoying fourteen-year-old orphan intruder, coming into Steadfast to stir things up, make everybody like her and want to help her. She'd hung around with Jered, Moog, and Darrell, and had pretended to be tough and one of them, but it was all a ploy to get to Jered's dad. One time Jered had actually caught his dad playing Monopoly with her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd played a game with his dad. Not that he wanted to. Not that he wanted to…
See what happens when I try to get close to people* Jinko was right; people needed to look after themselves first. That was the only safe way to live.
Jered pulled his hands into the sleeves of the jacket. Jinko had drawn him close, was drawing him closer still with his deals and fifty-dollar bills. And maybe that was okay. That was business. That was survival.
His thoughts flew to Vasylko. Now there was a man it might be nice to know. Nice, funny. And Vasy listened. But Jered couldn't risk getting closer. Not with that cross stuff between them. He didn't need any Jesus-freak in his life, giving him a list of don'ts. And he certainly didn't need to draw God's attention by hanging around with one of His believers. Best to stay anonymous.
To God. And to the world. Hang out. Do what needed to be done to survive, but not get involved. Not let people get to him. Not care.
Jered wrapped his arms around his body, trying to stay warm. He stopped looking at the stars.
Jered slipped into the garage. Jinko's car was in the driveway, and the house was dark except for a light in an upstairs room. Jered kept the lights off, stripped down to his underwear, and was getting into bed when he noticed a shaft of moonlight hitting the shelf across the room. The shelf that held the PDAs.
They were stacked neatly, two rows high. Things had been rearranged. The empty spot glared.
He knows!
Jered grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. He had to get out of here, now! He stuffed his clothes in his backpack and put on his—
The light flicked on. “Where you been?”
Jered's heart slammed into his spine. Jinko stood in the doorway. He strolled in, his hands in his pockets.
“I went to a park. I was just sitting. Thinking.”
Jinko headed toward the shelf, stalking it. “Good thing, thinking.” He met Jered's eyes. “What were you thinking about?”
Jered let his eyes flit to the shelf and back. “1…I was thinking that I need to tell you something. Confess something.”
Jinko stopped walking and faced him. He clasped his hands in front of him, with a sarcastic smile on his face. “Confession is good for the soul. Or so I've heard.”
Jered dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out three bills. He plucked the twenty. He held it out to Jinko but didn't move closer. “Here. This is yours.”
Jinko put a hand to his chest. “Mine? For what?”
Just spill it. “For the Palm-thingy the tall guy took. He gave it to me to give to you.”
For the first time Jinko looked at the shelf, then back to Jered. “PDAs are fifty, not twenty.”
Jered looked at the bill. “Oh. Sorry. I didn't know.”
“I guess you owe me thirty, don't you?”
Sure. Anything. Jered retrieved one of the fifties and gave it to him instead of the twenty. “Here. All paid up.”
Jinko smoothed the bill, then folded it in half so it fit in his shirt pocket. “I guess we are. For now.”
Jereds chest heaved. “Good. Good.”
Jinko headed for the door. “Don't do that again, kid.” He swung around. “Comprende? ”
Oh yeah. Jered comprended all right. Completely.
Annie opened her eyes. It couldn't be morning already.
It wasn't. The clock read 3:16. Wasn't that the same time she'd awakened yesterday morning when she'd gotten up to read the Bible?
The Bible!
She'd forgotten all about it. And Cal had thrown it away!
He told you no more middle-of-the-night Bible reading.
She suddenly felt sad. And mad. She looked at her sleeping husband, and her stomach stitched anew at the thought of him with another woman. She had the sudden urge to flail at him, wake him up, make him prove her wrong, make him pay for putting her in this position. She didn't want to even think about giving up God for Cal. She liked her Bible study. She liked church. She liked reading the—
You have no choice. Get things back to normal and then think about it.
Her marriage had to come first. God would understand. So if Cal said no more Bible-reading, there could be no more…
She wouldn't read it. She'd just get it. Rescue it. Leaving it in the garbage wasn't right.
She got out of bed and went downstairs. She slipped on her loafers sitting by the back door and was within a split second of flipping on the back porch light when she realized the light could be seen from the master bedroom. She hoped the moonlight would be enough.
Annie carefully turned the doorknob. When the door creaked she cringed. Why hadn't she noticed that it creaked before?
You weren't sneaking before.
She tiptoed outside, only tapping the door to its jamb so the cold air wouldn't rush in. They had two garbage cans. Which one? She lifted the lid of the first, angling her body so moonlight fell inside. A kitchen garbage sack lay neatly on its side, encompassing the can edge to edge. Had Cal shoved the Bible deep into the can? She'd only dig if she had to.
She opened the second can. No nice, neat sack. Newspapers and torn envelopes, a plas
tic jug that smelled of sour milk, and an empty Honey Nut Cheerios box. She'd have to dig.
Her fingers hit leather. The Bible had slid vertically, along the side. She pulled it out. The orange juice soaked napkin-message was nearby.
Thank You!
She replaced the lid and retraced her steps inside. She stood in the kitchen and rubbed a hand against its cover. A wave of wistfulness rolled over her. She was just getting into the Word. And now to have to set it aside…
But God held marriage sacred. If going to church and reading the Bible was breaking up their marriage, certainly He wouldn't want that. Certainly He'd understand.
Where should she put it? She needed a new hiding place where Cal would never look. A place where it would be safe.
Her eyes strayed upward. She knew the perfect place. But to get it there she'd have to be careful.
Annie went into the front room and grabbed a copy of Good Housekeeping. She slipped the pocket Bible inside and carried it in the crook of her arm. If Cal woke and stopped her…
She tiptoed into the bedroom, then into their walk-in closet. Her heart beat double-time, and her breathing nearly stopped in her quest to be quiet. She knelt beneath her pole of dresses and parted them, revealing the door to Avi's cubby. She opened it and quickly dropped the Bible inside, easing it between the wall and one of the oversized pillows that covered the floor. She shut the door, grateful it made no click.
“Annie?” Cal's voice was thick with sleep.
“I'm here.”
“Come back to bed.”
She gathered her nerves, stood, shoved the magazine under a pile of sweaters, and grabbed the top one. She exited the closet, pulling it over her head. “I felt chilled.”
It was the truth. In more ways than one.
Eight
For God will bring every deed into judgment,
including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil.
ECCLESIASTES 12:14
CAL HEADED FOR HIS TRUCK. He had a meeting with Bailey about the new restaurant.
As he passed the garbage cans next to the driveway, he remembered Annie's Bible and immediately thought of the previous day when he'd taken Avi to the park and Annie had been so pouty She'd had plenty of time to retrieve it.