Perfect

by Harry Kraus

  “There was so much more,” she said. “Wendi — ” she said, as a sob erupted from her lips. “Wendi got pregnant.”

  John felt his heart quicken. “What? When?”

  “John, I didn’t want you to know. She was young. Only fourteen. I was afraid the elders who asked Rene to leave would remove you from the pulpit.” She looked up. “You know, if you couldn’t rule those of your own house, how could you lead the people of God?”

  His mouth was suddenly dry. He couldn’t find a response.

  “So I covered it up. I wanted her to have an abortion. We were on our way to the clinic when our accident occurred.”

  “Ruth!” he said. “How could you?”

  She turned to face him. “I didn’t want to lose another daughter.” She began to sob. “Oh John, it was so wrong, but I panicked.

  Something took over, and it was as though someone else was sitting there, talking about abortion as though it was nothing. And I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop myself.” She wept a moment, grieving the decision that had cost so much — not least the loss of their grandchild. “Later I realized that I was just playing a game all along. I’d become a professional Christian. I acted like the perfect pastor’s wife, but inside, I was dark.” She slumped, her shoulders thrown forward in defeat. “I’ve passed it on to Wendi. She knows only the rules, but has missed out on grace.”

  John stared at the woman he loved, aching for the pain that flowed out of her. “So that’s why she expected us to react differently when Rene told us she was pregnant.”

  Ruth cried and looked up again. “It is my fault.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He leaned towards his wife, trying to understand.

  “I wanted to protect you.” She halted. “I wanted to protect me.

  You see — ”

  “But Ruth, abortion — ”

  She held up her hand. “She never went through with it. She lost the baby after the accident. The surgeon took the baby out with her uterus when he couldn’t control the bleeding.” Ruth stared at him.

  “I never wanted to you to know.” She sniffed. “I wanted to be the woman you thought I was.”

  John nodded. “Just like Wendi.”

  “So don’t blame yourself. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

  Bitterness and compassion stood opposed in his mind. He wanted to love, to understand, but this trickery seemed too much. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sat on the front pew. You said ‘amen’ when I talked of the rights of the unborn.”

  Ruth spoke slowly, each syllable thick with emotion. “I know it was wrong, John.” She paused. “Look at me.”

  He stood at the window and looked out over the manicured lawn leading down towards the lake. He turned to stare at his wife.

  “After Rene left, Wendi was all we had. I was afraid, John.” She halted, a sob catching in her throat. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  He took his wife’s hand. “This is also my responsibility. My family was under pressure to perform because of me.” He hesitated. “So Wendi has lived with this secret most of her life.”

  Ruth nodded and stayed quiet. After a minute, she began again, “We’ve never spoken of it since the accident. At first I expected her to blame me, to hold it against me that she couldn’t have children.” Ruth pushed her wheelchair back with her one good foot. “The longer it’s been, the more I think she must have amnesia from the accident. Maybe she doesn’t remember at all.”

  John began to pace the small room as he processed the news. “But the accident — ” he began. “Wendi was just a child. What was she, fourteen?”

  “She was a young woman, John.”

  He continued to pace, finally stopping and letting his hand rest on the bookshelves. “It all makes sense, Ruth. I think she remembers.” He nodded. “So she’s lived a perfect life trying to make up for her sin.”

  “She probably blames me for her inability to have children.”

  “No,” John said, looking down on his wife. “I think she blames herself for putting you in the chair.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “That’s Wendi.”

  I chatted nervously with Sophia Rodriquez, the owner of Sophia’s Bakery, and watched the front window for Rene. Sophia’s husband was another one of Henry’s triumphant trauma-saves, and the Rodriquezes had returned the favor for countless special occasions, providing fresh breads for dinner parties or a cake for Henry’s birthday.

  When I finally saw Rene, I was choking back emotions. I was through with the games, through with lying, and in spite of the fact that I’d told myself that this week was going to be the new week of honesty, I’d spent most of it smiling in front of a heart of pain.

  We retreated to the back of the store, where Sophia ran a small coffee bar, selling fresh muffins and hot java. We sat in the only booth in the corner, and Sophia immediately brought two mocha lattes.

  Rene’s eyes bore in on mine. “OK, Wendi, why don’t you just tell your sister all about it?”

  I sniffed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “You just had to come home to see me during the worst week of my life.”

  Rene teased at the thick foam that bulged from the top of a tall mug. I could read her ambivalence about accepting it. She was pregnant, and I had chastened her about drinking my java stash. She shook her head. “You still can’t compete with me. I’m the queen of messed up.”

  I smirked. “Thanks.” I looked up after inhaling the aroma rising from my latte. “But you haven’t heard my story.”

  She sipped her drink and licked away a small curl of foam from her upper lip. “So spill it. I’m not sitting here to judge you.”

  “Jack Renner and I were going to run off to Jamaica together this past week. I had it all planned.”

  I watched Rene’s jaw slacken.

  I paused. “You said you wouldn’t judge me.”

  She surrendered with her hands lifted, palms facing me, and said nothing.

  “OK, there were a few glitches in my little escape plan. I’d never told Jack about my juvenile crush or the fact that I bought the tickets that were supposed to purchase my freedom from my perfect life.”

  A smile threatened the corner of Rene’s straight face.

  “Don’t you dare laugh!” I said. “God is wreaking havoc in my life for just thinking about leaving my husband.”

  Rene leaned forward and matched my whispered tone. “What?”

  “Well, that’s my theory anyway. I asked Jack to run away with me on Thursday.”

  “What did he say?”

  “What could he say? He was shocked. I could tell he liked me, but he was totally unbalanced by my invitation. As far as he and the rest of the world knew, I was the perfect little Christian, happily married to the perfect surgeon with the perfect house and the perfect life.” I shook my head. “But for once in my life, I decided to take down the mask. Poor guy fled down the hill and pulled out in front of a truck who decided to run a red light.”

  Rene leaned forward. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” I whispered. “Every time I make a deviation from the straight and narrow, someone I love gets hurt.”

  Rene started shaking her head, but I didn’t wait for her to voice her protest before I continued. “I was on my way to have an abortion.” I smacked my hands together. “Mom ends up in a wheelchair.” I stared at my sister, daring her to contradict my theory. “And this week, everything around me has gone bust.” I sighed. “And it all followed my little departure from my righteous life.”

  “You’ve carried the guilt of putting Mom in a chair all these years?”

  I nodded. “Who else?”

  “Mom, that’s who. If anyone is responsible, it was Mom.”

  “She’s not the one who had an affair with the youth director.”

  “Hey, that wasn’t your fault, Sis. He was a married man, a leader with responsibility to keep his hands off. A fourteen-year-old, a
s mature as you felt, isn’t ready to fight off the advances of a man she trusts.”

  “Tell that to my heart.”

  Rene sat quietly and reached her hand across to mine. “If it’s any consolation, you and Henry seem perfect together.”

  “Exactly,” I moaned. “Too perfect.” I sipped my drink. “It’s hard to explain. Before I got involved with Bob Seaton, I’d always been a good girl. Since Mom’s and my accident, I’ve never walked away from the path again. At least not in everyone’s eyes. But inside, I don’t think I’ve ever really been on board with God. I walk around thinking he’s upset with me all the time. I’ve tried to live up to his expectations, but I just can’t do it anymore. I felt like my whole life was a big fake.” I wiped a tear from my cheek. “I just wanted to be honest, even if that meant doing something crazy.”

  “Did you ever feel like an actress on stage?”

  I nodded. “All the time.” I squinted at my sister. “Why?”

  “Because that’s exactly the way I felt. Until I ran off with Ray.”

  “What about now?”

  “Since I left, I’ve never been shy about trying to be real.” She seemed to be staring straight through me. “I’m not into pretending to be something I’m not because of guilt.”

  “Oh, and now you’re qualified to be my psychologist, too.”

  My biting words hung between us. We both knew my defense was weak.

  “Hey, I’m just echoing what I hear from you.” She held up her index finger. “You feel guilty.” She held up a second finger next to the first. “So you try to be perfect to overcome your guilt.”

  I felt a tightening knot in my stomach. My sister had me pegged. My phone sounded. I silenced it and looked at the readout.

  Chris Black. There was no way I was going to talk to him. Better let my voice mail pick up than talk to him.

  Rene spoke again. “Does Henry know about this?”

  “Are you insane?” I sipped my latte. “No one knows. Not even Jack.”

  “But I thought you said he — ”

  “He’s got amnesia. He doesn’t remember a thing.”

  Rene stayed quiet for a minute and stared towards the front of the store. “OK,” she finally responded. “How does all of this tie in with you being wanted by the police?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I paused and continued in a whisper. “Cindy Swanson had an attitude. She mouthed off to me when I went in to see how Jack was doing after his accident. I told her she’d regret it.” I looked up at my sister. “How would I know she would end up dead the same week I threatened her? The police chief claims Henry was having an affair with Cindy. That makes me the jealous wife, and therefore, a suspect, I guess.”

  “I thought Cindy died from a pedestrian accident.”

  “Me too,” I said. “I need to find out if there is something suspicious about her autopsy. Something that made Chris Black focus on foul play instead of accidental death.”

  “Maybe your argument with her means you suffer from incredibly bad timing.” Rene sipped her latte. “You can’t just run from the police.”

  “Rene, I just can’t let them arrest me. The PD is biased against me because I embarrassed them in court last fall.”

  “And what about Yolanda Pate? The police asked me about your relationship with her.” Rene cradled her hands around the steaming mug. “Another coincidence? The fiancée of the man you wanted ends up dead in your bed.”

  “Rene, you can’t believe that I could — ”

  We looked up to see Sophia. She set down two fresh muffins. “Lemon poppy seed,” she said.

  When she headed back towards the kitchen, Rene took my hand. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with her death. I’m just trying to understand how any of this could be related.”

  “Like you said,” I responded, wrinkling my nose, “incredibly bad timing?”

  She nodded. “You need to be honest with Henry.”

  It was my turn for the jaw drop. I jumped on my defense bandwagon. “Why should I tell him about Jack if no one, not even Jack, remembers my insanity?” I couldn’t meet her gaze. Looking down at my coffee, I continued, “The irony of this whole week is that I’ve started remembering what I liked about Henry in the first place.

  Watching him care for Jack, seeing his willingness to consider even talking about adopting your baby — ” I stopped and choked back the lump in my throat. “Well, let’s just say I’ve discovered my love for Henry may just be enough to carry us forward.”

  Rene’s expression changed, and I followed her gaze to the front of the store where a man had just entered the bakery. She grabbed a menu and whispered from behind it. “That’s the man who was following me!”

  I glanced over my shoulder. I recognized the man as one of the two young officers who’d been at my house with Chris Black. I looked at Rene, keeping my back towards the officer and the front of the store, and lifted my hand to shield the side of my face.

  I watched as Rene lowered the menu just enough for me to see her eyes widen. Her voice was urgent.

  “Wendi! What are we going to do?”

  CHAPTER 24

  Follow me,” I whispered, casting a glance over my shoulder. Then, dropping to the floor, I crawled to an opening in the counter bordering the opposite wall.

  Rene obeyed, and in a moment I found myself in the kitchen staring at Sophia’s knees. I looked up to see her wearing a red apron dusted with flour. I jumped to my feet and covered her mouth just as she burst out laughing.

  “Shhh.” I lifted my hand from her face. I looked over my shoulder to see Rene peeking out into the store from behind a curtain.

  Rene turned and whispered, “He’s coming this way!”

  “Is there another way out of this place?”

  Sophia pointed towards the back, across a large vat of bagels. “But what — ?”

  “I’ll explain later. Can I borrow your car?”

  Sophia shrugged and fished a set of keys from a large leather purse.

  “Could you go out there and occupy that man for a few minutes? We’ll bring back your car in an hour.”

  “It’s by the dumpster behind the shop.” Sophia’s gaze turned stern. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Nothing I deserve.” I smiled and mouthed “thank you.”

  I ran for the door with Rene trailing. Once in the parking lot, I scrambled for a red Camaro parked by a large green dumpster.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Some of our most loyal friends owe Henry their lives,” I said, nestling in behind the wheel. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I turned off of Route 29 and onto Azalea Drive and reflexively ducked down when I saw the parked police cruiser beside the road. A pair of Charlottesville police officers seemed to be watching every car entering my neighborhood. Were they waiting for me?

  They didn’t seem to pay any attention to the red Camaro. I sighed.

  Rene didn’t like my plan.

  “Change with me,” I said, pulling to the curb. “Drop me off at the Letchfords’ house. I’ll cut across their backyard and into the woods behind my house. I can get in the back door to the garage.”

  “You’re impossible.” Rene reluctantly jumped out and got behind the wheel. “The police are watching your house.”

  “Exactly. So just do as I asked and everything will be OK.”

  Rene rolled her eyes. “Explain to me again why you have to do this.”

  “It’s what I do,” I said. “Somewhere in this mess there are some clues to unravel this whole mystery. And if the police are convinced I’m the guilty party, then I’m having a bit of a problem trusting their judgment right now.”

  Rene pulled away from the curb, lurching us forward as she pushed the accelerator. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes in your car. I’ll slow down at your driveway, then do a U-turn in the church parking lot to draw the police away.”

  “Perfect,” I said, immediately wishing I’d
chosen a different word. I was done with my perfect life. “Here,” I said, pointing to the side of the road. “Just drop me here. I can get into the house without anyone seeing from the front.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  She didn’t wait for my reply. In a moment, she was speeding back towards Sophia’s Bakery. Now all I could do was pray my little plan would work.

  The Camaro disappeared down the hill, and I dashed through my neighbor’s side yard and into the woods. When I was at my yard’s edge, I paused to study the house. Everything seemed normal. Oh how deceiving the looks of suburbia can be.

  Thirty minutes later Rene slowly drove Wendi’s Mercedes up Azalea Drive. She felt like she was trolling for bluefish in the Chesapeake Bay. She hooked what she was looking for when the First Baptist Church was just coming into view. She braked hard and made a U-turn.

  Perfect, she thought. Catch me if you can.

  She punched redial on her cell phone.

  After one ring, she heard Wendi’s voice. “It’s about time.”

  “I’m on Azalea. Our friends have just picked up the trail.”

  “Great. Head north on 29.”

  “I thought you’d be going this way.”

  “Change of plans.”

  “Be safe. Oh,” Rene said, “flashing lights in the rearview mirror.”

  “Pretend you don’t see them. Try to take them north.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I flipped off my cell and pulled the full-coverage helmet over my head. As the garage door rose, I fired up Henry’s Triumph Rocket III. It was heavier than I’d imagined, but seemed to balance well between my legs. I’d ridden this thing a dozen times, but always behind Henry. Thankfully, in his completeness, he explained every detail to me before each of our excursions. It was a bit like his preflight check in front of the mirror. Key. On. Clutch.In. Press the starter. Shift downward to find the first gear.

  I twisted the throttle and slowly released the clutch. I was moving! And no one would ever expect me to be on this baby.

  I kept it in first gear all the way down the hill on Azalea. When I saw a car in front of me, I hung back, and snuck through the light, turning south on 29 without stopping. So far, so good. Riding was easy enough.