Steve pushed aside his notepad and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was starting to see double from working on this briefing. Standing up, he walked over to the fridge and got out some milk. Michelle had baked cookies that afternoon and cold milk would be perfect with those chocolate chips.
Max immediately noticed the jug of milk and began to prance around mewing.
“The vet said this stuff isn’t really that good for you, Max.”
Not to be diverted from his goal, Max only wailed louder, beginning to rub against Steve’s legs in a ritual that had always brought success in the past.
“Okay, okay. I’ll give you just a little sip. But don’t tell Mom,” he said.
Max seemed satisfied with the small saucer of milk. After licking the last drop, he strolled out to the family room where Steve had settled on the couch with his snack. In a graceful leap, he landed on Steve’s lap and began sniffing at a cookie in his hand.
“No way, Max. These are all mine.” Steve gently nudged the cat off his lap. Max took the hint and relocated himself on the rocking chair where he began kneading an afghan draped over the arm.
After finishing eating, Steve picked up his Bible. He thought about Michelle and how much she wanted a baby. Lord, he prayed silently, Is this your will? I want your timing here. Thumbing through the pages of scripture, his eye fell on a verse in the book of Psalms. “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” It seemed to be a confirmation. It was certainly Michelle’s desire to have a baby now, and he was getting attached to the idea, too.
In his relief that he had found confirmation about their ‘project’, Steve missed the first part of the verse, not realizing the key it held.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Clark’s conversation with Preston the following day held no big surprises. Preston refused to answer any questions about Marilyn Marlow, clearly preferring to serve his time and put the whole thing behind him.
Next Clark used his contacts with the police department to put out a tracer on the whereabouts of Bart Thomas. He was located within a day, residing now in the coastal community of Oceanside. Jotting down his address, Clark decided to pay Mr. Thomas a surprise visit. He strode out to his Lexus and climbed in. Popping up his GPS screen, he punched in the address of Bart’s home. These things still amazed him. Looking at a navigational map with step-by-step driving instructions from his immediate location to Bart Thomas’s front door, he started the motor and pulled out of the lot.
Although the air held a cool November chill, the sun was shining and the sky was clear. It was one of those gorgeous fall days in Southern California, with an off-shore breeze that tickled the treetops and invigorated pedestrians. Clark was looking forward to his drive along the coast. Opening his sunroof, he reclined the seat a bit more and readjusted the rearview mirror accordingly. His stereo system oozed a jazz CD he had started listening to on his way to the office that morning.
One of the songs transported him back in time to a tiny coffeehouse in Santa Barbara where he and his ex used to spend many evenings when they stayed at his father’s ranch outside of Montecito. He felt an old emotion resurfacing as he pictured her smiling face, framed in a halo of blond curls. Wonder how Susan’s doing these days, he thought to himself, trying to picture her living on her own up in Washington as she pursued her dream of becoming a writer. Maybe I’ll give her a call tonight.
Time flew quickly, and soon he was pulling up to the front of a picturesque new house with a beautiful view of the coastline. He glanced down at the legal pad on the passenger seat and replayed in his mind some of the questions he wanted to ask.
A short man of slight build with brown hair and wire rimmed glasses responded to Clark’s rap on the door. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Who is it?” called a female voice from somewhere inside. Within a moment the source of the voice was revealed, as a very curvaceous young lady with long blonde hair appeared behind the man, resting one hand on his shoulder.
“I’m looking for Bart Thomas,” Clark began as he reached into the pocket of his sport’s coat and pulled out a business card.
The man scrutinized the card for a moment and then said, “I don’t remember calling for an attorney.” The woman behind him squinted her eyes, giving Clark a piercing stare.
“I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you have the time,” Clark began, ignoring the obvious hostility he was confronting.
“About what?”
“I’m John Ackerman’s attorney. I’m trying to piece together what happened at Mather’s.”
“He embezzled some money. That’s what happened. There’s not much else to tell.” The man began to close the door.
It was clear they were not about to cooperate with him. Clark decided to try one last ditch effort. “Apparently you haven’t heard what happened to Mr. Ackerman.”
“What? He went to jail?” the man and woman both laughed.
“No. Actually, he shot himself.”
Their expressions changed momentarily, the woman withdrawing her hand as the man glanced back at her. “He what?” the woman asked.
“He shot himself in the head.”
“But I thought you said you were his attorney?” the man asked, puzzled.
“I am. He survived. But he’s pretty messed up – can’t walk, can barely talk. He’s in rehab right now at Rancho Vista Hospital. The man’s life is pretty much over.” Clark could see he was making some headway. The woman in particular looked guilty as sin, and her fellow wasn’t looking too good either.
“Listen, Mr. Christianson, I’d like to help you and I’m sorry to hear about John. But there’s nothing I can really tell you. We worked together at Mather’s, but that’s about the extent of it.” The blond nodded her head in agreement. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just about to go out.”
Clark noticed the surprised look on the woman’s face, but she quickly backed him up by saying, “We’re meeting some friends. We’re already late.”
Clark nodded. “Maybe some other time.”
“Yeah. Another time.”
As the door closed on him, Clark’s mind was ticking. Pretty clear what we have going on here. Marilyn’s found herself a sucker. He turned and strolled back to his car, pulling away from the curb and driving down the street to re-park where he could watch and see if they were really leaving. Twenty minutes later, with no action coming from their house, he pulled out and drove away. Time to get the police back on this case, he thought. But how do I protect Brady and Ackerman from the secrets Marilyn might reveal?
Waving goodbye to Monica, Michelle walked into the family room and found Steve asleep on the couch with Max snuggled in his lap. She went over to wake Steve up to go to bed. His Bible was open on the coffee table and a verse was underlined.
“ ‘Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.’ That’s pretty cool,” she said softly. There are lots of great sayings in here, she observed to herself.
Steve started to stir. “Are you talking to me?” he asked sleepily.
She smiled and inclined her head toward the open book. “Just reading your Bible.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s 10:30. Come on. Let’s go to bed,” she said, reaching for his hand to help him up.
“How was your evening with Monica?” he asked as they climbed the stairs, connected to each other by intertwined fingers.
“It was good. We had a lot of catching up to do.” Michelle hesitated and then continued. “I told her about our little ‘project’.”
“You what?”
“I told her we’ve decided to start a family.”
“Are you sure you should be talking about that? Don’t you think it would be better to just wait until you’re pregnant?”
Michelle withdrew her hand from his. “It’s a girl thing, Steve. We like to share our hopes and dreams and plans.”
“I see.”
“You do?”
“Look, Michelle. You can tell Monica anything you’d like. This just seems like something kind of personal, between you and me, not the whole world.”
“Monica won’t tell anyone. She promised.”
“Okay. Whatever. Let’s just go to bed. I’m beat.” He headed straight for the closet and began unbuttoning his shirt.
I wonder if I’m pregnant right now, she thought to herself. She’d already had one disappointing month. In a few more days she’d know if she’d conceived this month. With Thanksgiving only a week away, she hoped she’d be able to tell everyone some exciting news – a new baby to be thankful for.
Sheila could tell something was really troubling her husband. John seemed to be withdrawing again and his therapy was slowing to a near halt. She did not know what to do. Every time she tried to reach out to him or to ask him what was troubling him, he would just turn away and close his eyes — the closest he could come to walking away from her.
Phil and Joan had arrived the day before to be with their daughter and grandson for Thanksgiving. “What’s the matter, Sheila?” her mom asked as she watched her daughter staring out the window over the kitchen sink.
“I don’t know, Mom. Something’s up with John. He’s been very quiet ever since our attorney visited him the last time. Clark asked me to leave the room for a while. When I came back, I could tell something was upsetting John.”
“Do you think Clark is concerned he might not win the case?”
“He hasn’t indicated anything like that to me. He seems very confident whenever we discuss it.”
“And you don’t know what they talked about while you were out of the room?”
“Something that Clark said was delicate in relation to the company where John works. He seemed to be alluding to something about other personnel at Mather’s.”
“Maybe he has a pretty good idea of who’s been framing John and it upset him when he heard who Clark thinks it is.”
“That’s possible. I just hate to see him lose any footing he’s gained in therapy. It’s really important for him to be focused on the future now. On rebuilding his strength and his life.”
“Do you think it might help if your father went over to talk to him alone?” Phil had such a calming affect on their son-in-law up in the hospital in Bridgeport. Maybe he’d have the words to speak to John’s issues or concerns, whatever they might be.
“Actually, I was just considering asking Dad if he’d mind doing that.”
“Mind doing what?” Phil asked as he entered the kitchen with the newspaper in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
Joan replied, “Talking to John. Something’s troubling him and Sheila can’t seem to get it out of him.”
“And you two think he might open up to me?”
“It’s possible. He seemed to gain a lot of strength from your visits in the ICU,” Joan offered.
“He did, Dad. You were the only one who seemed to really help him when he got agitated.” Sheila studied her father, noticing the twinkle in his eye that belied his age. In spite of his wrinkles and gray hair, he had a certain youthful spark she’d always admired. Even when he was faced with big issues or concerns, an underlying current of peace and joy permeated his countenance.
“Okay. I’ll go over to Rancho and see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Sheila said, already beginning to feel better.
“Anything for my princess,” Phil replied, drawing her into a father’s embrace.
Later that night, as Phil was praying for the words to reach John and to uncover what was troubling his son-in-law, Marilyn Marlow was driving up the coast to see John herself.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Phil stood outside the door to John’s room, taken aback by the sound of a female voice speaking in a threatening tone.
“You are pitiful, John Ackerman. Look at the mess you’ve got yourself in now. What were you thinking? Obviously you weren’t. Just like you weren’t when you gave me the shaft after Dallas. You better listen carefully and start thinking now. I will not be dragged into your mess. Tell your lawyer friend, Clark, to back off, or I’ll be making a little call to your precious wife.”
Phil cleared his throat to signal his entrance. Standing by John’s bed was a tall, well-built woman in her thirties. She was dressed in a clinging black dress that stopped several inches above her knees, revealing slender legs and black high heel shoes. “Excuse me, miss...”
“Marlow. Marilyn Marlow.” She spoke in short, clipped words. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“No, and it’s not likely we ever will again.” She took one last look at John, making eye contact, before she turned and strutted out of the room.
As soon as she was gone, Phil sat down beside the bed and studied John’s face. He was clearly distressed and angry. “Want to tell me what that was about?” Phil asked after a few moments of silence.
John shook his head and turned away from Phil.
“It’s hard to run away when your trapped in a bed, isn’t it?” Phil observed. He could tell by John’s glance back over his shoulder that he’d caught him off guard. “Listen, John, I heard what Ms. Marlow was saying to you before I walked in. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was alluding to. You had an affair with her while you were in Dallas, didn’t you?”
John turned to face him and gave him a cold stare.
“You can be angry with me if you’d like, but my hunch is that deep down inside it’s yourself you’re really mad at.”
John just squinted his eyes and continued to stare, almost as if to try to figure out what was coming next.
“Does this Marilyn gal have something to do with your frame- up?”
John’s face remained stoic.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. This is quite a mess, isn’t it? It just keeps getting bigger and bigger.” Phil stood up, walked over to window, and looked out, his hands in his pockets absentmindedly fiddling with some coins. He turned back around and stood over John.
“Well, John, since you’re not talking to me tonight, I guess I’ll just sit and talk to you for a while. Ever since we first met you that night you and Sheila went to the drive-in movies together, I’ve been praying for you. Guess you’ve probably heard that before. Do you know what I’ve prayed?”
No response.
“I’ve prayed for you to figure out you can’t make it through this world without God, that we all need Him at some point or other, even if it’s not until we look death in the face.” Phil paused. John was staring at the ceiling.
“Throughout the years, Joan and I have loved you and accepted you as a part of our family, even though you rejected our beliefs and essentially pulled Sheila away from them in the process. Now it appears you were also unfaithful to her and to your marriage vows. But that’s not what this lecture is about.
“Whether you’ve known it or not, we’ve covered you both in our prayers. And now I believe God is answering those prayers in a very unexpected way.”
John looked around the hospital room as tears began to pool in his eyes.
“You’ve just got to surrender, John. Give your life over to the Lord. Let him take these burdens and straighten out this mess. Give up your self-sufficiency and pride and let Him take over.”
“I . . . don’t . . . know. . . how.” John’s face matched the frustration in his voice.
“How is the easy part, being willing is the hurdle. Are you ready to lay this all down?” Phil gestured to the room as a symbol of John’s dilemma.
John closed his eyes, forcing a tear out of the corner of one. As it trickled down his face, he just nodded and sighed deeply.
Phil looked heavenward for a moment. Then he placed his hand on John’s shoulder and led him in a simple prayer of repentance and surrender. When John opened his eyes again, his frown relaxed. A new peace was finding its way into his head and heart.
“Ready to talk now?” Phil asked, sitting down
on the chair beside the bed.
John took a deep breath and nodded. “I was right about you and Marilyn in Dallas, wasn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“And Clark thinks she is tied to your embezzlement charges?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this is how I see it, John. Truth is always the best path to choose. It’s not always the easiest, as I’m sure you can see from your current vantage point, but it is ultimately the best.”
“What . . . are . . . you . . .saying?” John concentrated hard to speak every word clearly.
“I’m saying you can’t cover up this Marlow thing and uncover the truth at the same time.”
“But . . .what . . .about . . . Sheila?”
“Well, that’s a tough one. It’ll really hurt her. But the truth is the truth. She’ll have to accept it, John. There’s no excusing what you did, but at least you were able to realize your mistake and cut off the relationship.”
“Yes.”
“The other side of this picture is the fact that it will hurt Sheila tremendously if you are convicted.”
“True. What . . . a . . . mess. . .”
“Well, some of this is out of your hands now. You made a choice to turn this over to God and that limits your options. It’s clear from His word that you’ve got to tell the truth. Covering up your sins from the past will not solve anything.”
John cringed and nodded. “Okay.”
Phil could see what a struggle each word was for John to form. “Do you want me to talk to Sheila for you?”
He shook his head. “No . . .I . . .will . . .tell . . .her.”
“All right. She’ll be here pretty soon. Do you want me to stay?”
“No. Thanks. Please...pray.”
“You know I’ll be doing that, Son. God will give you the strength.”
Through the Tears (Sandy Cove Series Book 2) Page 13