by Amy Wallace
She leaned forward and met him with a piercing look. “What about you? From what Clint tells me, it sounds like you and God parted ways about six years ago. Right after Angela left.”
Steven took a long drink of tea. Sweet stuff that Sue had made special for him. And for Gracie. “Touché. I kinda figured you wanted to know more about Angela than you let on.”
He thought of Angela and all their fights about religion. Nothing like this time with Gracie. Not even close. Most of his God-talk had met with belligerence, Angela being loose lipped under the influence of alcohol.
“Angela and I argued about everything. But about God, more than anything else.”
Gracie’s expression didn’t waver as she finished her fajita and waited for him to continue. Did she already know he’d walked in her Christian shoes before? He’d done the talk but had gotten burned too much to stick with the walk.
“Are you still in love with her?”
Ouch. Gracie, like Clint, didn’t mince words. Or skirt around the tough stuff.
“I did love Angela. I still struggle with being attracted to her. Guess you picked up on that.”
“We react with powerful emotions toward those people we feel most strongly about.”
Good answer. True. Not the end of the story, though. “I don’t want a future with Angela. Once I’m given full custody, she’s out of my life.”
Gracie cocked her head to the side. “Maybe Clint is right about forgiveness. Seems to me you won’t be completely free of your ex-wife until you forgive her. Your body language screams that truth.”
Steven looked down at his clenched fists and folded arms. It wasn’t forgiveness or the lack of it that had him riled. It was the thought of the upcoming custody battle and what would happen if it didn’t get Angela out of his life for good.
What if she had never really stopped drinking? Sharing joint custody and leaving his son in a potentially dangerous environment wouldn’t ever happen. But what if she was clean? She had a right to know her son. According to her, James was the only child she would ever have.
Steven’s heart felt gripped in a vise. He didn’t understand the strange feelings stirring around inside.
Snippets of Clint’s booming voice thundered in his ears. Daggered words about pride and how Steven wouldn’t be able to make up for the past or be free of it without forgiveness.
“Steven?” Gracie waved a hand in front of his face. “I think you have a visitor at your front door.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I got lost for a minute.”
She smiled. “I’ll start clearing dishes, and you can go check to see if you need the latest magazine subscription some poor high school kid is trying to sell.”
Steven walked to the front door. A salesman on a Friday night? He opened the heavy wooden door. Worse than a salesman. “Angela. What brings you here this evening?”
She extended a dish and smiled. “A peace offering. Derby pie. I hope it’s still your favorite.” She stepped forward and raised her eyebrow when he blocked the doorway.
“Where’s your husband?”
She took a deep breath. “After our dinner a few weeks ago, I went home and had a long talk with Marcus. He agrees that you and I should try to work out our differences. In fact, he’d like to come with me next time work slows down and I’m here for a visit. He’d like to meet you and James.”
So that was why she disappeared in between her bomb-dropping missions. She was as busy with her career as he was with his. That information would serve him well in court. Steven swallowed the next set of words that leaped to his mind. Did he really want to meet the man Angela had slept with before and after bearing his son?
Only a paternity test and a newborn had kept Steven from ripping good ole Marcus’s head from his body six years ago when he’d first found out about his wife’s affair. That feeling hadn’t lessened much since then. Seeing the jerk wouldn’t help matters.
Gracie laid a hand on his shoulder and then quickly retracted it when she saw Angela in the doorway.
Angela stiffened her back and pasted on an if-looks-could-kill smile. “Well, well. My son’s favorite teacher looks like she’s fast becoming my husband’s favorite date too.”
“It’s none of your business. We’re not married anymore, Angela.”
“But we were.” Her long fingers tightened on the pie plate she held as she focused on Gracie. “Watch yourself, Mrs. Lang. He looks like a perfect Romeo now and talks a good game until he gets you between the sheets. But his mistress will always be the FBI.” She raked her eyes over Gracie. “And if I couldn’t keep him interested, I doubt that you can.”
Gracie bowed her head and tightened her lips.
Steven wanted to throttle Angela. He may have messed her over and broken her heart, but Gracie didn’t deserve those caustic comments.
“Angela, it’s past time for you to go. Keep your peace offering.” He touched Gracie’s arm but kept his eyes on Angela’s face. “You didn’t stick around long enough to work things out years ago. I doubt you will this time. But if you do see Gracie again, I expect you to behave like an adult. One with a little common decency and courtesy.”
“Oh, you’ll both see me again.” Angela flipped her black hair over her shoulder. “November eighth. In court, if not before. I’m serious about gaining custody of my son. Before I lose him to some elementary teacher.” She turned and stalked down the front walk toward her Mercedes.
Steven closed the door and drew Gracie into his arms. This was not the way he’d imagined holding her for the first time. “I’m so sorry.”
She put a hand to his chest and pulled back. “That wasn’t your fault. She’s obviously afraid James would rather spend time with me than her, and she’s handling it the only way she knows how.” Gracie’s shaking hands belied her calm words.
“She was wrong to attack you. You’re beautiful inside and out and an excellent teacher who makes a difference in children’s lives. That matters.” He led her into the den to sit on the leather couch. “I hope this doesn’t scare you away.”
“No. But maybe we should go a little slower. Wait until after the custody hearing to have another date at your house.”
He’d waited years for a woman he felt as comfortable around as Gracie, and he wasn’t about to lose the ground they’d gained tonight. “Why don’t we double with Clint and Sara? Or your friend Leah and her husband?”
“What if I pray about it and let you know?” She smiled, but a hint of fear showed in her pretty hazel eyes.
Steven nodded. If he could keep the frustrating Kensington case from dividing his mind and get the stupid custody hearing over with, surely Gracie would see he was worth her time.
Far more than Angela ever had.
Then again, maybe he was better off alone. But that was what he’d done for the last five years, and it hadn’t worked.
Maybe Clint and Gracie were right. It was past time for a real change. He just didn’t know where to start. Or how.
28
October’s morning crispness forced Gracie’s tired eyes open as she ran her standard three miles.
But not even Jake’s steady panting beside her or Wednesday’s school lessons kept her mind from wandering back to her last conversation with Steven. It had been another tense phone call about his being busy with work and not picking James up this week. Either Steven’s case was gathering steam toward a conviction, or they’d gotten too honest last Friday and backpedaling had become the order of the day.
Her pocketed cell phone buzzed. Who in the world?
“Gracie, are you okay?” Beth’s panicked voice flew through the phone lines.
She slowed to a cooldown pace and looked around her sleepy neighborhood, still dark with tons of eerie shadows. The question made goose bumps crawl over her skin.
She laughed it off. “I’m almost home from jogging. No broken body parts or stalkers lurking, so I think I’m okay.” She looked at her sports watch. “But you’re up way be
fore the workaholics leave for the office. California time it’s two in the morning. What’s up with that?”
Silence.
“Beth?”
Then sniffles. “I just couldn’t get back to sleep. I kept seeing you in my dreams.”
“And that’s such an awful thing?” Gracie unlocked her front door and released Jake’s leash. She needed a quick shower, or she’d never make it to work on time. That’d give her vice principal ample ammunition for caustic remarks. Something he’d been doing more often lately.
“I’m serious. I’m worried about you. Seeing you tumble down a hill in the Jeep I bought for you doesn’t make for a good night.”
“Sorry Beth.”
“Will you stay home from work today?”
She moved to the kitchen and took a long drink of water, considering her sister’s tearful request. They’d grown close again, but Beth and tears still ranked up there as one of life’s paradoxes. “I can’t. It’s too late to call in a substitute, and I have Secret Service company to entertain.”
“Will you call Steven and ask him to pick you up on his way with James?”
“No.”
Beth blew her nose. Not a great sound amplified over phone lines. “Don’t tell me you’re ditching him because he’s not a perfect Christian like Mark.”
“Mark wasn’t perfect and neither am I, Beth. We’ve covered this. Can’t we let it alone?” Turning thirty hadn’t made Beth any less like a playground bully when she didn’t get her way.
“Why won’t you call him then?”
Gracie thought of Steven in his tailored suits, with the little-boy grin that made butterflies multiply in her belly His love for James. All the FBI stories she’d heard on his birthday and since then made him seem like a living superhero. Why wouldn’t she call?
She put a hand to her mouth. “Fear.”
“Of what? That he’s too good to be true?”
Good question. “I’m not sure. Fear of the future? Not wanting to get my heart broken because some cute guy acts as if he likes me sometimes and then other times not?” Gracie headed upstairs. “I’m too old to play the dating game. Besides, I have other issues that require my attention. School, for one.”
“And your investigation.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll fly out today if you’ll call in sick and come pick me up at the airport.”
“Beth, go back to sleep. I’ll be fine. And you can save your plane ticket for Thanksgiving. I’d love to see you and your family then.”
Her baby sister sighed long and loud. Their mom would have laughed at Beth’s drama queen act.
Within an hour, Gracie was leaning against her classroom windows admiring the reds and yellows of autumn leaves that swirled in the cool mid-October breeze. In the fall, Hope Ridge’s elegant brick buildings and white columns dressed to impress in the bright sunlight.
She couldn’t have ordered a more perfect day Except for Beth’s phone call worries. And the whole situation with Steven. Gracie rubbed her arms, chilled despite her coral sweater and long woolen skirt.
Thomas Perkins opened her classroom door and startled when he saw her. “At work early this morning, Mrs. Lang?”
He wasn’t in his traditional black suit. His blue jeans and green button-up looked as out of place as the carefree look he’d worn before he noticed her.
“I had a few things to do before school begins.” She slipped her journal notebook into her leather satchel. “And you? You’re looking touristy today.”
His jaw muscles clenched. “I had some menial work to attend to.” He checked his watch, a new Rolex if Gracie guessed right. “Best get ready for school now. Like you. Good day.”
He closed the door, disrupting wall posters with hurried ripples of air.
“How weird.” Gracie shut down her overactive imagination and turned her attention to the room setup for the day.
An hour later children began their clockwork arrivals, and the over-the-workweek hump passed in a blur of glue and paint, giggles and requests for help.
They’d begun a unit study on the classic children’s book The Story About Ping. Duck-themed math equations, vocabulary words written on construction paper eggs, and beautiful pictures of bird drawings filled their cubbies.
“Will you read the story again, please?” Akemi took Gracie’s hand and tugged her toward the middle of the classroom where book center beanbags lay scattered. The other children were busy in various other activity centers or the art table.
James flopped a beanbag chair between him and Victoria. “That’s for you, Mrs. Lang.” His smile mirrored his handsome father’s.
Akemi sat in Gracie’s lap and handed her the storybook.
“Where does this Ping live?” Tori asked.
“In China.” Akemi held her head up proudly. “Where I was born.”
“Very good, Akemi. Who’d like to get the globe so we can find China?”
Tori hopped up and walked across the room to retrieve the requested item.
Maria kept her watchful eyes trained on Victoria’s every movement. It had become second nature to have the two agents always in the room. But every once in a while, Gracie had noticed their listening to her as she read and smiling at her interactions with the children.
It warmed her insides to know she’d earned their respect.
“I can walk like the little duck in the story.” James tucked his hands under his arms and waddled around, waiting for Tori and Akemi to find China on the globe. Gracie laughed. Once the girls had found the country, everyone settled back down to finish the story.
“Would you three like to make a duck puppet? We can make the first ones, then you can help me show the others.” The three children rushed to the art table and began to remove scissors, pens, and the basket of yam, feathers, and other assorted supplies.
Gracie stood and stretched before joining the children.
A deafening noise thundered through the room. Glass shards exploded from the windows. Akemi screamed.
James tried to tackle Victoria. Agent Reynolds ran in front of Gracie, blocking her view. When she tried to locate all of her students and direct them toward the door, Victoria was gone.
Gracie ran toward Akemi and James, who were standing like statues in the middle of the room.
Another explosion.
Everything in Gracie’s sight went white.
Then black.
“Two shots fired. Teacher. Two students down.” Maria screamed into her body mic as she ran through the empty halls.
Agent Reynolds barked clipped syllables into his mic behind her. “No visual, moving to southwest escape route.”
Maria’s heart felt as if it would explode through her chest.
Victoria’s nails dug into her neck.
Curious teachers down the hall stuck their heads out of classroom doors.
“Lock it down!” Maria yelled. Black suits flew past her as classroom locks echoed over the linoleum.
Over the din of Secret Service orders and frightened children, Maria fixated on her target. She pushed her body harder and sprinted faster toward the rehearsed escape route.
Flinging open the heavy metal door, she blinked against the blinding sunlight.
She charged past the gymnasium into the side parking lot and stopped at the waiting car.
Agent Reynolds started the Grand Marquis as she secured a whimpering Tori in the backseat beside her. Radio static filled the car as they sped off Hope Ridge grounds.
“My friends.” Tori gulped in air. “Akemi had blood.”
Maria pulled the little girl’s shaking shoulders into her chest. Their heartbeats and breathing hammered over the busy radio and her partner’s broken sentences.
“What about Mrs. Lang?” Tori’s lungs heaved. The little girl’s eyes were wide with fear, and her hands trembled as she clutched the silver bracelet on her wrist. “Olivia gave this to me. I want my Livvie!”
“Shhh, honey I’ve got you.” She wiped Tori
’s tears and held back her own.
This had to be over soon.
29
Where is my son?”
Steven ignored his conscience. He didn’t care that the young woman at Alexandria Community’s ER counter looked terrified. Fear drove him. “My son, James Kessler, is here. I want to see him. Now.” He spoke in sharp bursts as he gripped the tall white countertop that partially shielded the receptionist. “Hope Ridge. A shooting in the classroom. They told me he’s here.”
The woman fluttered through files and phone calls to answer his demand. Phone still in hand, she pointed to the door behind her. “He’s in exam room three, but …”
They could call security for all he cared. He slammed the door open and stormed down the hall. No one stopped him. No one would dare.
“James.” Steven’s breath stopped in his throat. His son’s blood covered the bedsheet.
A short man in a white coat and scrubs turned to face him. “Who are you?”
Steven flipped open his credentials before thinking, his eyes fixed on the small form on the bed. The blood smear on James’s cheek about did him in. “That’s my son. What are you doing to him?”
A soft moan lit a fire under his legs, and he moved to James’s side.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here, James.” He stroked a tiny limp arm.
“Your son sustained a few minor injuries—a number of bumps and bruises, seven hairline stitches.”
“The glass, Daddy. Glass was everywhere.” James tried to sit up, but Steven eased him back down. “Akemi kept screaming, and there was blood all over her face …” Tears cut off his words.
Steven touched James’s straight brown hair, avoiding the Frankenstein threads. “I’ll make sure Akemi is okay after we get you taken care of. It’ll be all right.”
“Tori disappeared.”
The words sucker punched him. Charlotte’s brother had tried to kill Victoria and wounded James instead? Rage like he’d never felt ripped through Steven’s veins.