Eleven
ALESSI IMAGINED HER MUSTANG sitting out front, draped in fog. No wonder she couldn’t see it. But she could hear it, that familiar rev of the engine. Louder now, intentional, telling her it was there, calling her out of sleep. She startled, listening hard. It was still there. She jumped up from the cot, ran through the dimly lit store and looked out the front windows. A car was zooming up and down the street, spinning donuts at the intersection. Under the streetlight, she recognized the red body and tan rag top.
“Hey!” She banged the window. “Hey!” She burst through the door and ran in her socks toward the intersection, waving her arms. “Hey you! Stop!”
But the driver straightened the wheels and took off down the road, spewing snow behind. She tore after him, ran all the way to Ben’s gas station, but the taillights were long out of sight. She turned at the gas pumps and ran for the house, banged on the front door before she remembered Steve saying he left the kitchen door open. She ran around and through the door just as he launched himself toward her. In matching shirts and sweats, they grappled, grabbing each other’s arms and hollering together.
“My car!”
“The alarm!”
“I saw my car!”
Ben and Dave burst into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“I saw my car. Someone was spinning donuts in the intersection. It’s here! In Charity!”
Dave and Ben stared at her. Steve went to the closet and pulled on his brown bomber jacket.
“Hurry!” Alessi caught his arm. “We have to catch him. And call the sheriff.”
Steve scowled. “You already did.”
“What do you mean?”
“You set off the alarm. Everyone within six miles is calling him right now.” He caught her arm and dragged her with him. Her feet were soaked and her teeth chattering. Steve took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders as he tugged her down the street. “Didn’t I say not to open the door?”
“What are you talking about? I saw my car!”
“You think you did.”
She jolted to a stop and yanked her arm free. “I know I did.”
He kept walking.
“You don’t believe me? Do you think I’m making it up?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
After all his kindness, he still doubted her. She pulled off his coat and shoved it at him. “Then I don’t need you or anyone else. I’ll find my car myself.” She stomped up to the store and stormed through the door, her eardrums cringing at the strident tones she hadn’t even noticed before. She hoped the alarm woke everyone in town.
She went into the back room, tugged on a pair of dry socks and her sneakers, then threw on the jean jacket and stalked out. Just as Sheriff Roehr pulled up, she pushed past Steve into the frigid night. “The alarm is my fault. I opened the door. And in case you’re interested, I saw someone driving my car. But I’m sure that doesn’t matter to you or anyone else in Charity!”
She stalked toward the intersection where she’d seen her Mustang spinning under the streetlight. There had to be tracks to prove she was not hallucinating. Sure enough, big circles were churned into the snowy square. If she could match the tread from those, she could follow them out. That was not easily done in the dark with a streetlight on only one corner, but it was the only thing she could think of. While she chased one track after another, the sheriff got out of his car, stiff again and clearly put out.
“Young lady.” He joined her in the middle of the street. “I need you to come in now. You’re creating a disturbance.”
Alessi spread her arms. “I’m creating a disturbance? How about the guy in my car? Look at these tracks. What do you think made them, a UFO?”
Sheriff Roehr fixed his hands to his hips. “I don’t like your tone. Fact is, no one saw a car but you.”
“No one was sleeping in a store but me.”
Steve caught up to them and took her by the arm. “Let’s go, Alessi.”
She shook him loose. “Don’t grab me again, or I will not be responsible for what I do.” She meant it.
“I’ll take that chance.” She swung for his jaw, but he gripped her wrist and pulled her close, hissing into her ear, “This is not the way.” He held on tight. She meant to fight free and could have, but instead her lower lip shook. Tears filled her eyes.
He walked her past the sheriff, out of the intersection, and back to the store. She went along, angry and confused. Didn’t anyone understand? She’d seen her car, and whoever stole it was driving off with it right now.
He brought her back to the storeroom, sat her down on the cot. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right. I know what I saw, but you don’t believe me, and neither does the sheriff or anyone else in this town.”
He looked into the shelves. “There are things you don’t understand.”
She felt a chill. “What things?” Had she walked into some crazy scheme? Maybe the whole town stole cars and fenced them.
“You ought to call your uncle and leave Charity.”
She bolted to her feet, looking him in the eye. “I am not leaving without my car.” Her breath heaved in her chest, but she would not break down and sob. “Why won’t you help me?”
“I am.”
She shook her head, fists clenched at her sides. He caught her face and held it. His eyes were green, dark forest green with flecks of silver. They closed as he kissed her. Surprise turned to panic, then turned to wonder. He let go suddenly and stalked out without a word.
The door clicked shut behind him. She dropped down on the cot and wrapped herself in her arms. What on earth just happened? Somewhere between falling asleep and this moment, she had left reality and entered The Twilight Zone.
Of all the stupid, impetuous, imbecilic things to do. Steve kicked himself all the way home. Ben and Dave were lying in wait.
“Well?” Ben said. “Was it her car?”
“How should I know?”
Dave took his glasses from his T-shirt pocket and put them on. “Did Cooper get a look?”
“No, Cooper did not.” Steve flung himself onto the couch. “He almost arrested Alessi for disturbing the peace.”
“Disturbing the peace?” Ben sank to the recliner across from him. “What did she do?”
“Pointed out the donut tracks in the intersection and suggested all was not right in Charity.”
Dave shook his head. “Something should be done.”
Something had, and Steve kicked himself again. What lunatic had taken over his mind?
Ben clasped, then unclasped his hands, then dropped them to his sides. He was the only person in Charity, besides Alessi, who’d seen the car—or admitted it. Steve wished he had more to go on, then wished he’d never gotten involved.
Dave pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He wore them so infrequently he hadn’t had them sized right. “This is the first time it’s been something big.”
Ben’s face lengthened. “Stealing is stealing. I just can’t believe anyone in Charity …”
Steve sank into the couch. How could he so lose control? He wasn’t even attracted to her; he refused to be.
Dave leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Maybe it started as a prank, like Alessi thought, and the person got worried with Cooper called in and all.”
Ben shook his head. “That doesn’t explain tonight. Who’d rub her nose in it?”
Steve frowned. What on earth had possessed him?
“You okay, Steve?”
He jerked, glared at Ben. “Why wouldn’t I be? Just because I’m running the streets in the snow after some lunatic girl you guys let into our lives …”
Ben and Dave shared a glance.
“What?” he demanded.
They both looked away.
Steve squeezed his fists. “The question is, what to do now? She thinks the car is here, and she’s not leaving without it.”
“Why should she leave?” Ben t
hreaded his fingers. “This is as good a place for her as any.”
Steve scowled. “Except for the minor matter of her stolen car—and something rotten in Charity.”
Dave straightened. “Every place has got problems.”
“Yeah.” Steve stood up. “But most places admit it.” He jammed his hands into his sweats pockets and paced the room.
Ben and Dave stared at him. He’d heard all about the recent dynamics, springing from an incident while he was gone, but it still felt off. Wrong had been done, and Steve was skeptical of the new outlook.
Ben spread his hands. “The pact—”
“Alessi’s not part of that.” Steve paced back across the room.
“Neither were you,” Dave said.
“My father was, and I uphold it for him.” He caught his hand in his hair. It wasn’t the pact that had him agitated. “I’m going to bed.” He did, but it was worse in there.
What had he set in motion? Had he triggered something by pretending with her that afternoon? Holding her hand, holding her…. He was a man. Nine years older. That wasn’t so much, but she’d looked like she’d never been kissed before.
Impossible. She had the kind of face that needed kissing, demanded it. Not some pouty painted lips like Amanda’s … or Barb’s. Steve had known it would happen when her lip quivered in the street. He’d dragged her along to someplace private, but he’d known what was coming.
She hadn’t. She’d been kissed without any warning, any recourse. And just thinking of it made him want to kiss her again. He groaned.
Was it only last night she’d invaded his space? He’d lost his mind. The one good thing was that tomorrow was Sunday. He could hole up at the store, but there was no reason for her to be there. He rolled to his side, forced his eyes to close.
So they’d kissed—in the heat of the moment. Animal instinct. He could taste it still. His hands clenched. If he took those thoughts captive … He rolled to his back and stared hard at the dark ceiling.
“The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want … Alessi Moore in my arms right now. I don’t even know her. I certainly don’t trust her. I don’t believe she’s as innocent as she looks.” Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and considered the author of that Psalm and the trouble thoughts of a certain woman had brought him. “I—will—not—go—there.” He swallowed, feeling some measure of control return. Temptation and desire were part of his chemistry, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t govern it.
He shouldn’t have taken her picture and given recognition to thoughts of her attractiveness. He shouldn’t have given her a job. He should have stuck to his first opinion. His face screwed tight. She was not his problem. He didn’t have room for any more problems. Let Charity deal with her.
Twelve
ALESSI MADE HER WAY TO CHARITY CHAPEL the next morning. Who did Steve Bennet think he was? She clenched her hands at her sides. Maybe it was adrenaline—some masculine ritual. People lifted cars and all sorts of crazy things on adrenaline. He’d been distracted enough that he left the store in her hands. She could have cleaned him out and walked through the unprotected doors. But had he thought of that? Apparently he had other things on his mind. She hadn’t slept much. It had taken hours for her feet to warm and her lips to cool, and she’d had no alarm to wake her once she did sleep.
She reached the chapel and stared at the cross. Karen was right; she couldn’t miss it. It seemed to be made of some sort of Plexiglas, and it captured the daylight in a way that made it almost glow. It stood a good fifteen feet tall, looking new and untouched by anything as reprehensible as crucifixion. She read the sign for the time of the service, which had naturally started ten minutes before.
She slipped into the back and halfway down the side aisle, where people made room on the edge of a cushioned pew. The church seated over a hundred, and it was packed. Had to be most of Charity’s population right there. She recognized a few, including Moll, which sort of surprised her. But a gruff manner did not mean a lack of faith, and the Lord saw the heart.
From her vantage she could see a lot of people with just a little glance sideways. Ben’s head was easy to locate, bobbing above the others. He sat singing beside a woman and two little brown-haired girls. It must be Mary. For the life of her, Alessi could not guess why the woman wouldn’t snap him up.
The choir finished their hymn, and the pastor rose. People drew a collective breath as he took his place before them. His hair was a deep, rich auburn; two long dimples creased his cheeks, and his nose was straight but humble. Alessi sensed a sincerity that tugged at her insides. She sat straighter as he raised his face and said, “Forgiveness.”
The single word marched out alone and stood at attention until all wayward thoughts had been collected. Then the pastor opened the Scriptures and read: “‘Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times should I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you not seven times, but seventyseven times.”’” He let the number rest on their heads like coals, then looked up and added, “Seventy-seven thousand, seventy-seven million, billion, trillion. An infinite number.”
He went on to describe the scene. “The Lord was surrounded by crowds, people secure in their righteousness, steeped in the tradition of an eye for an eye, cursing their enemies. Some wore rich robes and rings on their fingers, oil in their hair. Some carried the office of authority. Others were ragged, crippled, leprous. All lived under the oppression of Rome and were waiting for the day their bonds would be broken, the enemy overthrown. They were simmering with righteous anger.”
Alessi could picture it: milling crowds in sandals, dust in the air, the smell of animals and sweat, oils and figs. Jesus seated on a rock, speaking simply, yet His words carried to the farthest ear.
“To all of these, Jesus spoke words of revolution: pray for your enemies, do good to those who hurt you. Forgive, forgive, forgive.” The pastor looked out at them with his amber-colored eyes. “These blessed words are now for us, the redeemed, set free from evil.”
Alessi was caught up in the timbre of his voice, the animation of his eyes, the vitality he exuded—though he stood nearly still. More amazing, though, was the reflection on the faces turned up to him. She’d never seen such rapture.
He spread his hands. “We live together in love and charity. Among us, no offense, small or large, is unforgivable. No offender, weak or strong, is unpardonable. No misunderstanding, no selfish desire nor contrary thought, can keep us from this precious truth: It is sweet forgiveness that frees us to love with the love of Jesus, who even in the throes of death, practiced what He had preached.”
Soft sighs of affirmation floated like doves to the rafters and poised there expectantly. Someone coughed, and it felt like a commotion. The pastor sent a compassionate glance toward the offender, then continued. “Consider that when someone has wronged you, it could be in ignorance.”
Alessi found the back of Steve’s head and sank lower in her seat, memory bringing a flush to her cheeks. Of course it was ignorance. How would he know she’d declared that behavior off-limits? It was probably nothing to him, but he hadn’t heard Aunt Carrie in the hall.
“She’s just like Shannon, that dewy-eyed slut. She’ll throw herself at the first gigolo who bares his torso.” Was that why she thought Mom had run away with Brian Moore?
Then Uncle Bob: “What was I supposed to do, tell the social worker we couldn’t afford her?”
And her aunt’s reply: “Shannon should have drowned her at birth.”
Alessi shuddered. She had spent that night praying for God to let her die. Her mother’s consolation through all the horror of cancer was that soon she’d be with Brian. Alessi had wanted nothing more than to join them in heaven.
Instead, she’d made herself invisible, never giving offense or embarrassment, never complaining. As her body changed and matured, she’d banished every thought of love. Not for her sake, but for Mom’s. If they were one and the same
in Aunt Carrie’s mind, then what she did reflected her mother as well. There would not be one smug moment when Aunt Carrie could say “I told you so.” Not one.
But now the pastor was saying you couldn’t stay mad, that no offense mattered in the face of Christ’s message. “Don’t assume you know their motivation. They might not even realize they’ve caused you harm.”
That was it. Alessi agreed. Most of the time people went along slashing and bruising with no idea how many they’d laid waste, like the snowflakes last night, crushed under their tires. Even when Aunt Carrie tried to sound kind, there was always the lingering echo. “Good job, Less.” Less than good. If only you’d been drowned at birth.
But they had taken her in and kept her when they didn’t want her. Actions spoke louder than words. That’s what she had to remember, and she envisioned the halos again as she’d driven away. Anyone could be a halo person.
The pastor said, “How often we wound without intending to. Yet the balm of forgiveness soothes the ailing heart. You understand and you agree. But there’s more.” He paused, and not a breath was drawn. “Sometimes people intend to insult, to injure.”
Alessi wished people didn’t mean to hurt each other, but she knew better. Otherwise, words like spite and malice would not be necessary.
“So what does the Lord say if someone means to hurt us—wants to, sets out to, deliberately intends to wrong us?” The pastor gazed out over them. “He says seventy-seven times.”
Alessi swallowed. She really didn’t bear a grudge. She wished her aunt and uncle well and was thankful for what they’d done for her. She was even thankful for what she’d learned. Hurt and rejection were teachers if you let them be. And she had. She wasn’t stupid—though she’d let people think she was. Aunt Carrie had refused to believe her sister could create an intelligent child, so Alessi had played dumb. And given her current predicament, maybe it hadn’t been as much of an act as she thought. But she hadn’t walked away bitter, and that was something, considering all the offenses she might have heaped up.
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