And now, maybe Ed could show Rochelle that men were more than uncaring slobs. His own guilty conscience about past relationships fueled him. He wanted to believe he’d changed.
“Maybe you’re right, Ed. Listen, you’ve been kind to me from day one. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. And I’m not trying to push you away, but it’s not fair to lead you on, either. You’re a good man, and I hope you can understand why I have to go it alone for a while.”
“Rochelle—”
“Good night.”
Friendship was only a part of what he had in mind. He continued to have this almost surreal need to shelter her. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he leaned against the chair and air hissed through the slight separation in his front teeth. He had been confronted with the toughest defenders in the league having his arm slashed by a stick, or his face sliced by a skate, but never had he endured the kind of pain he felt at the moment.
What was happening to him?
He had to accept one thing. To gain her love and trust he would do whatever it took. She was no one-night stand, and odd as that seemed, he had realized standing on Alicia’s porch he no longer wanted that kind of life. Rochelle had changed the desires of his heart. So much so, that to protect her from being hurt, he’d lay down his life.
CHAPTER 36
ROCHELLE NEEDED A HINT of sanity. And that meant … shopping. “Look at the clerk,” Donna said. “She’s salivating at the prospect of a celebrity endorsing their salon.”
Floor-length gilt mirrors covered one entire wall at Silks by Samantha, a local boutique where Rochelle picked over dozens of dresses while Donna swigged a bottle of Evian. Rochelle peeked at the clerk and shook her head. “A celebrity? Donna, won’t she be disappointed? Besides, she sees plenty of real celebs in her salon.”
Taking into account the number of gowns, Rochelle dropped into one of the two chairs that had been brought over for them. She took in stacks of satin with embedded crystals. “Wish I didn’t have to show up at the fundraiser this year.”
“Why not?” Donna asked. “We all have to go or the boss will pitch a fit.”
“I know. I’m just not in the mood to mingle.” Fingering the fabric on a beautiful couture gown, she let out a sigh. When she looked back up, Donna was staring.
“Rochelle. You okay?”
“Oh yeah, just dandy. How about you? Excited for a night out with John?”
“Always, but I wish we were going to a restaurant or a club.”
Rochelle shook the hair from her eyes. “I don’t understand that. You work at the station, a very conservative bunch of people, to say the least, but you seem miles away from a lot of the conservative issues.” Her thoughts drifted to the irate caller, Jennifer Someone. “I’ve wanted to ask you. Did you agree with that woman the other day?”
“Whether I do or don’t agree with a caller, you have a right to be protected.”
That hadn’t answered the question. “Did you agree?”
“Listen. I’m a Christian. I make no bones about that. I go to church, do my thing, and let everybody else do theirs. I figure if we all live and let live, we get along better. ‘Judge not’. Of course, I don’t agree with what she said to you, but I’m not exactly opposed to her having her own opinion.” She twirled a button between her fingers.
“Oh.”
Donna’s stand took on a defensive posture. “I’m still a Christian. I don’t go overboard is all. You don’t think for one minute Jesus Christ is the only answer to life? Wait, wait.” She dropped the button and held up a hand. “On second thought, I really don’t want a response. This is a special day for shopping with a girlfriend, not talking religion or politics. That’s what the show is for. Rochelle confronting hell, not couture gowns.”
Rochelle bit her tongue for the third time. Why believe at all if not completely? He either died for a reason or He didn’t. The logic behind it wasn’t all that tough. Lord, when will she see the difference?
Rochelle draped the soft gown across the front of her body, letting her smile lead her words. Standing so Donna could get the full effect, she asked, “How about this one?”
“’Chell, you look so cute. I wish I could wear a sheath. My figure won’t allow it.” She sighed. “And your dark hair makes the salmon color brighter.” Donna gushed with the kind of excitement only a close friend could display publicly and get away with it. She grabbed another silk sheath. “This is cute, too.”
“I’m not sure cute’s exactly what I was shooting for. I sort of hoped for elegant. But it doesn’t really matter. The fundraiser’s for a good cause and I intend to be there, cute, elegant, or otherwise. Wish I had your curves.”
A shadow passed. Rochelle dropped the gown and walked to the large window that fronted the street. Her heart lurched. Standing on the sidewalk, an officer leaned against one of the light posts and stared in the window.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Donna, see that cop in the sunglasses out front?”
Donna placed the dress with all the sparkles on a hanger, strolled over, and peeked out. “What cop?”
Rochelle pointed out the window, but no one was there. “I guess … I just thought. Never mind. I must have been mistaken.” She hesitated as the clerk looked at them.
Donna’s frown zeroed in. “Are you all right?”
“I guess so.” Rochelle collapsed in a chair, fingering a beautiful silk number. “My imagination’s working overtime. I don’t really want to be shopping or attending the fundraiser this year. Period. I want to go home and lock myself in with a five-dollar pepperoni pizza and a pack of diet Dr. P.”
“That’s real healthy.”
“And some dark chocolate. With nuts.”
Donna laughed. “That’ll help the curves.”
“Not to worry. I can’t turn into a hermit. The center needs to have as many visible people at their gala as possible, and I plan to do my part.”
“John and I will be there, too. Whether I’m all in or not with their philosophy, I know they do good work helping moms. We can all hang.”
Rochelle smiled, though her energy level had been tapped along with her enthusiasm. “Great.” She lifted her hands, dropping the gown. “Oh well. I guess that’s not the one.”
“Pardon my interfering, but you know, you’re letting ‘the one’ get away.” Donna’s smirk had returned.
“Don’t go down that road.” Where was the sales girl when Rochelle needed her? She slipped the salmon gown from the hanger and held it to her again. Turning this way and that, she admired the lines. This might do after all.
“Ed really cares about you and you know it.”
“And you know God loves you, but I’m giving you some slack today, so allow me a little space when it comes to Edward Clinton McGrath. Okay?” Rochelle swallowed any more biting comments. “Anyway, I talked to him a couple nights ago.”
“You’re on his mind a lot.”
Rochelle shifted the dress to one hand and held the other up. “Trust me on this.” She sensed Donna’s introspection as she glanced away and plucked at a pearl on one of the dresses the associates had piled on the creamy Queen Anne’s chair next to them.
Donna smoothed the satin fabric. “This looks elegant.”
“Exactly what I’m looking for, girlfriend.”
With a nod, she handed the gown to the sales associate along with her card. She had never spent this much on one dress. Thank you, Danny. “Please have it sent to the house, if you don’t mind.” The girl smiled and Rochelle could tell she was already calculating the commission.
Donna pulled a pair of shoes from a stand and held them up to her foot. “’Chell, I can’t wait to see who we run into at the fundraiser.”
Glancing toward the front door, Rochelle smiled. “Fundraiser, huh? Don’t look now, but a very handsome man in a uniform is checking you out.”
She tried not to laugh as Donna immediately rubbernecked in the other direction. John Jr. crossed the floor in three lon
g strides and left the rest of the women in the salon gawking at the unusually big brown eyes and dark blond, military-style brush cut. There definitely was something to be said about a well-built man in uniform. Especially when he was as easy on the eyes as Donna’s husband.
“Who is this goddess?” He cocked a grin at Donna’s surprised expression.
Rochelle tugged him toward the gowns with a grin she knew said ‘you’re in trouble here’. “Wait until you see what she picked out.”
He lifted the price tag and his jaw nearly unhinged. “I’ll have to call a loan shark so you can buy this.” Before Donna could say a word, he wrapped an arm across her shoulder and tugged her close. “I guess you’re worth it, though, beautiful.”
Rochelle blushed at the easy way they showed affection to each other in public after years of marriage. She stepped outside to afford them whatever privacy they could find in a store filled with ogling women. Well, she didn’t have to be one of them.
As she opened the door and walked into the crisp air, the officer she’d seen earlier disappeared around the corner.
CHAPTER 37
BRACED ON THE ICE for the face-off of the third period, Ed found himself once again opposite Grabey—a man with a thick neck and a head the size of a melon. Served up with plenty of attitude.
He hated the guy. Grabey’d made plenty of filthy comments, and until now, Ed had been able to keep his temper in check.
Grabey wasted no time. “Hey, McGrath. I hear you’re doin’ that radio broad. What’s she like?”
Ed leveled a stare. “Shut your mouth.”
“How was she at Christmas?” Grabey leaned in close and sang, “Round yon virgin—”
The puck dropped and Ed exploded. He only vaguely recollected slashing Grabey with the stick before they both wrestled to the ice. Ed punched and Grabey slugged back, slamming Ed so hard in the side, Ed heard a crack. With his anger refreshed, he smashed Grabey to the floor with his full weight and bashed his mouth. Blood trickled onto Ed’s arm. His nose again. Or maybe Grabey’s chin.
Didn’t matter.
Their jerseys were yanked over their heads one at a time until both of them were half-dressed and slugging away. Blood and cursing spattered the ice like a morbid TV crime scene.
By the time the officials and other players yanked them apart, Ed panted in the middle of a red puddle. Brett Galloway arrived first. “Let it go, man. Come on. Off the ice.”
According to league rules, they were both doled out game misconducts and forced to leave the arena. But before the official could stop him, Grabey pushed past his players and shot back toward Ed. He shouted, “This isn’t over, McGrath. Not by a long shot.”
Adrenaline pumping and his patience all but gone, Ed shook his blood-caked fist. “Anytime. You name the place!” He jerked from Brett’s grasp. “Lemme go, man.” He skated off the ice, but his gaze drilled into Grabey’s back. Not over? That was a given. They had two more games this season.
Entering the locker room, his frustration far outweighed his control. He punched his locker, slumped to the bench, and landed on the hard floor. He watched as his knuckles raised into marble-sized knots, red and hot to the touch.
His entire life he’d fought this battle with his temper, and he knew he had to get a grip. But how? It was all he knew. From the father to the son, wasn’t that how it went? And his father had done an amazing job of teaching him aggressiveness and anger.
Yet, the last thing he wanted was to grow up with his father’s attitude. He couldn’t afford to get thrown out again. The guys depended on him. Did he really need to make a change, the kind Rochelle talked about on her show?
She’d told him to ask for help. Chuck the pride and ask for help. Something he had never been good at, not even from his teammates. They all relied on him.
I wanna do better. At home, on the ice. It’s just so doggone hard, God.
Was God his answer? Could God change what no one else had been able to?
Then Grabey’s words echoed in his head. The blood on his knuckles brought a smile.
Giving up the temper was no easy task.
Not for a McGrath.
CHAPTER 38
MONDAY MORNING, AFTER WALKING the floor for much of the night, Rochelle made her way to the radio station and struggled with which of the day’s current events to include in today’s news segment. There was a short pre-recorded interview with Denton Lester, inspirational suspense author, which lasted only fifteen minutes. If only the interview could have been live, but no, that wasn’t possible. He was teaching at a conference. The blank space would be palpable if she couldn’t produce more fill, but her mind clouded from lack of sleep. No matter how she battled with her thoughts, she couldn’t forget the outcome at the boutique with Donna on Friday.
How could she tell her listeners about Christ if she couldn’t convince her own friends effectively?
And as if that hadn’t been enough, there was her conversation with John about his partner. He’d assured her he hadn’t been with any other officers. “Maybe a security guard from one of the stores,” he’d said.
Why hadn’t she thought of that? Of course, the man would be checking out the storefronts. She’d breathed a sigh of relief. Her mind, working overtime lately, had her in, what did her grandmother call it? A tizzy?
With another hour of research behind her and papers in hand, Rochelle trekked her way to the sound room. Behind the familiar microphone, with her notes in large font on the computer, she paused to wait for the sound engineer to prompt her.
In no time at all, the two segments taken up by the interview drew to an end, and she launched into a free segment, any topic from any listener.
“Okay. Let’s take the next caller. This is Rochelle. Caller, what is your topic for today?”
“Hi. I want you to know I listen to you every single day.”
“Well, thank you. What sizzling topic would you like to discuss?”
“I don’t really have a question. No topic,” the woman said softly. “Just felt like telling you I feel for you, for what you went through.”
“That’s very kind.” Without rhyme or reason, her throat went dry, her heart skittered, and she fought to calm her breathing. A crawling in her stomach hinted at something wrong.
A long pause before the caller said, “I was, well, impressed when you told about working at forgiving the man who attacked you. I’m not sure I could be as forgiving.”
“Thanks. Alone, I wouldn’t be able to.” Her words barely squeaked out, and she grabbed for some water to push the lump down her throat. Had she truly and honestly forgiven him or were her words to show the listeners what a good person she was? Pride again.
Silence dragged into way too much dead air space. Her engineer held up his hands in a what should we do gesture. But before she had the opportunity to respond, the woman said in a low voice, “I was pregnant when I was younger. One of the boys at school forced himself on me, you know, at a party and … well, the counselor at school convinced me to have an abortion. She said I wouldn’t graduate or go to any more parties. That everybody would look down on me and anyway, I’d be saddled with a rapist’s baby I didn’t want for the rest of my life.”
Rochelle choked back what she wanted to say. How could someone be so incredibly cruel? “A lot of reality to dump on a young girl.”
“At sixteen, it sounded like a death sentence. The end of the world like that nurse said the other day.”
“So you had the abortion.” This woman rattled her.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“The counselor at school arranged for me to go the clinic. A medical excursion.”
Like she’d gone on a field trip. “Didn’t your parents take you?”
“No. They weren’t told.”
Rochelle leaned forward and cracked her forehead on the windscreen covering the microphone. She fumbled to correct it. “They weren’t told you were being taken for medical care?”
; “When they took a girl to the Caring Hearts Consultation Center, it was confidential,” the caller said with a laugh that came out more a gurgling snort. “Caring Hearts, isn’t that ironic?”
Rochelle pitched her pen across the floor and slumped like a ragdoll. “I’d say.”
“We all thought they really cared about what happened to us. Until we walked out the door.”
“We? You weren’t the only one?” Rochelle had heard rumors about abortion services being offered without parents’ consent, only a staff member’s knowledge.
“Yes. There were at least two or three other girls in the reception area that I’d seen around school. The thing is, I’ve found it impossible to forgive myself for going through with the procedure. I talked with the counselor at school, and she said I should be happy about it. I wasn’t.” Her voice grew softer, and Rochelle strained to hear. “Now that I’m pregnant, I simply can’t forget the other baby.”
This was getting extremely personal, and Rochelle wanted to check her facts before saying anything more about Caring Hearts.
“Please stay on the line while we go to break.” Rochelle waved to the engineer and signaled a commercial break. With the flip of her hand, she motioned for Donna.
Her voice rose, almost in panic. “Caller, are you still there?”
“For now.”
“Who are you? We have counselors we can put you in touch with.”
“I’m a happily married woman and very pregnant. Almost ready to have my baby. And while I need to tell my husband the truth, I’m such a coward. I thought I could forget in time and he would never have to know, but now I—”
“Have you called me before?” An overwhelming sense of déjà vu stuttered through Rochelle. “Your voice sounds so familiar.” And like the woman’s conversation was somehow scripted.
“No,” she said too quickly with sobs squeezing between her words. “No, you don’t know me. Oh, God. Why did this have to happen now?”
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