by Kelly Irvin
“I’m not in any hurry. I have a great job and a wonderful family.” Normally she wouldn’t engage. She knew better. But exhaustion and shredded nerves opened her mouth before her brain could scream no-o-o-o. “Not every woman is destined to be a stay-at-home mom with her own children.”
The woman’s eyes widened until her penciled eyebrows touched the artfully arranged, silver-dyed curls on her forehead. “Oh, honey, I know it’s hard not to be sour when the years are passing you by and you hear that tick-tock-tick-tock grow louder and louder in your ears. Pray earnestly and God will give you the desires of your heart. Scripture says so.”
“According to His plan and in His time.” Taking Scripture out of context was one of Teagan’s pet peeves. Right now the desire of her heart was to flee. “Thank you. I have to see Pastor Rick. You understand.”
“Of course, of course. He is a good counselor.”
A good friend who wouldn’t push his agenda on her.
When she made it to the front of the line, she shook his hand, but Rick drew her into a quick, fierce hug. “How are you doing?”
“Hanging in there.”
“I was hoping the events of the past few days might encourage your family to attend church this morning.” Rick never ceased to hope or to pray for Teagan’s wayward love ones. “Did you offer an invitation?”
“As usual. The response was something about lightning and God smiting someone.”
Rick chuckled. “They didn’t get the memo about no one being perfect?”
Aware of the folks behind her waiting for a quick word with the pastor so they could race to their cars and head to Bill Miller’s to be first in line for barbecue and sweet tea, she squeezed his hand again and let go. “I’m headed to Sunday school to help Max with the youth.”
“He’s in a state this morning.”
“I imagine he is.”
“You’ll calm him down?”
“Or stir him up.”
“Godspeed.”
Teagan threaded her way through the crowded narthex that mixed the contemporary service folks with the mostly older members who would attend the traditional service, dodging and swerving like cars on the busy I-10/410 highway interchange. By the time she ran up the stairs to the second floor of the education building, she was winded and tired.
Not a good state in which to run into Noelle. Three-year-old Ricky Junior, a mini-me of his father, toddled along behind his mom who carried a box filled with crayons, construction paper, toddler scissors, and other alien-looking crafty stuff. “I’m glad you’re here. With all that ugliness threatening you, you need to keep your faith tank full.”
“Just seeing your face makes me feel better.”
Even with a box on her hip, Noelle managed to drop a curtsy in a denim dress with a hem that hung to her shins. “Thank you. Even churches have their little crises. All heck has broken out here now.”
Noelle launched into her spiel. The four-year-old class needed a sub. Their teacher was out because her child was projectile vomiting. A vacuum was needed posthaste in the five-year-old class because they’d decided to dump out all the popcorn that was supposed to be used for a craft project. Little Joel had wet his pants, removed his shorts and underpants, and run buck naked down the hallway to the bathroom—apparently an afterthought.
“Where is Kathy?” Kathy being the children’s pastor. “Shouldn’t she be riding herd on this?”
Pastors’ wives often picked up the slack, especially in smaller churches like Hope and Faith, but this seemed a bit extreme.
“She has some sort of stomach bug.”
“Aha. Where shall I start?”
“No, no, your mission, should you accept it, is to ride herd on Max. He’s looking pretty beat up this morning, and the teens are hopped up on doughnuts, Nutella on white bread, and Big Red. Or Dr Pepper. They picked their poison.”
“That’s just gross.” Teagan wrinkled her nose.
“Or nectar of the gods, depending on who you ask.”
Ricky Junior took that moment to wail. Noelle handed the box to Teagan and picked up her youngest. The move gave Teagan a better view of the normally svelte woman’s protruding belly. “Are you expecting again?”
The words popped out. Probably not PC to ask before the information was volunteered. Maybe she’d eaten too much of her own scrumptious cooking.
Noelle grinned as she snuggled Ricky Junior. “I am. We’re gluttons for punishment. I love my boys, but I really want another girl. Don’t tell them I said so.” Her grin faded. “Rick told me about your conversation the other night in the hospital. I’m sorry. He can be such a horse’s patootie. I’m sorry about Mrs. Conklin and the police officer. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
“I’m fine, hanging in there, all that stuff.” Teagan stifled the urge to pinch Ricky’s chunky cheeks as Noelle nuzzled his dark curls with her chin. What would it be like to hold your own baby? Read Fancy Nancy books over and over? Play ring-around-the-rosy? Run through the sprinkler screaming? Sing the “Alphabet Song” forty times and then sing it again? “Do you think I’m wrong?”
“About having children?” She hitched Ricky onto one hip and held out her hand for the box, which she balanced on her other hip. “I think you would be a fabulous mom. It makes me sad to think of what you’ll miss. But I respect your decision, and I know it’s one only you can make. You and the man you love. I know one who would be perfect for the job. He’s right down the hall.”
“We’re only friends. Good friends. That’s all we can ever be. Max deserves to have his greatest wish.”
“God is good and He is mighty. Sometimes we simply have to stand back and let Him do His thing. He surprises me every single day.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be the one doing the preaching?” Teagan smiled despite the pang her friend’s words caused.
“My plate is full.” Grinning, Noelle hustled past Teagan, then paused to look back from the top of the stairs. “Neil and Jana just adopted their second little girl—the one they’ve been fostering. There are so many unwanted children who desperately need homes. They’re already here, brought into this messed-up world by messed-up parents. They need forever homes and loving parents who take seriously the state of this world they’ll inherit. Just a thought.” She disappeared down the stairs.
So much for not trying to influence her decision. Teagan shook her head and laughed. They said it took a village to raise a child. Faith and Hope Community Church certainly had that one figured out.
The humor in the situation didn’t obscure the sad accuracy of Noelle’s words. The Texas foster care system desperately needed parents willing to do a hard, heart-wrenching job loving children who’d been failed by their own families.
Not now. Not today. Teagan batted the thoughts away. Her brain couldn’t take another angst-filled issue today—nor could her heart. She ducked into the double classroom that served as home base for the sixth grade through high school Sunday school classes. They would start here, then divide up into their grades for small-group lessons. Tables and chairs crowded the room. Someone had written JESUS REIGNS in big pink letters with a heart over the i on the dry erase board.
Max sat on a wooden stool, acoustic guitar in hand, his gaze fixed on sheet music on a stand in front of him. Bruises in an array of colors decorated his face. He plucked several notes and winced. No doubt every muscle in his battered body hurt. Two of his high schoolers stood nearby, their guitars at the ready.
“You guys have been practicing.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Odie Needham asked. “We can lead the song if you want to rest. I can get you a soda and Pop-Tarts.”
“If I rest any more, I’ll roll over and die.” Max grinned to show he was kidding. “Thanks for the offer, but I drank two Dr Peppers for breakfast. Any more and I’ll have the shakes.”
“We heard what happened and we weren’t sure you’d be here today,” Jess Wampler added. “We could lead the open, you know.”
“I have absolute faith in you two. In fact, I’ll take you up on it. Odie, you lead the prayer. The two of you can handle the two songs, and then I’ll chip in with the announcements and breaking up into groups. Sound like a plan?”
Their expressions reflecting their desire to please, the boys nodded.
Max had such an easy way with kids. It didn’t matter their age. Whether it was nurturing sixth graders still shell-shocked from starting middle school or navigating the scary landscape of eighth graders caught exploring their sexuality in the prayer garden. Not to mention the constant battering from a world where society now normalized behaviors far beyond what Scripture called godly. How did kids navigate in a world of social media bullying, sexting, more than fifty gender choices, and myriad drugs available for numbing the pain? Max covered it all, with relieved appreciation from most parents who were kept in the loop every step of the way.
Here more than anywhere else, Teagan stood in awe of this man. His weaknesses, his experiences, and his innate talents combined in a way that God could use him right here and now.
His gaze traveled beyond the boys for the first time. When it reached her, he smiled. She smiled back. He stood, weaved slightly, and laid the guitar on his stool. “Take five, guys.”
Odie glanced around. He saw Teagan and gave her a knowing grin. “Sure, Preach.”
The kids insisted on calling Max that even though he insisted he was no preacher. Just a guy with a guitar.
The boys clomped out with the obligatory salutations of, “Hey, Miss T.”
“Hi, guys.” Teagan waited until they were gone to turn back to Max. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
The silence stretched.
Who started it wasn’t entirely clear, but a few seconds later Teagan found herself locked in a crushing embrace.
“How did you sleep?” His breath tickled her cheek. “You looked tired.”
“I didn’t.”
“Me neither.” Did he lay in his bed aching to feel her body next to his? Teagan swallowed the question. “I’m terrified and angry and disgusted and I feel helpless. I don’t like feeling this way. I hate it.”
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Fierce emotion blazed a path across Max’s face. “You can count on me.”
His hands rubbed her bare arms. Goose bumps rippled in their wake. The heat in his eyes singed her skin. Her gaze found his lips. She fought to look away but couldn’t.
He leaned in.
She swallowed against the sudden rush of desire that pulsed through her body. “We can’t.”
“We can work this out,” he whispered. “What are you so afraid of? Is it my past? I can understand that—”
“This is not the time for this discussion.” Teagan tore her gaze from his lips. “We’re in the middle of a crisis. Our emotions are all over the place.”
“The way I feel about you isn’t going to change. Tell me you don’t feel the same way about me and I’ll back off. I’ll stay away from you.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want to happen. I don’t want to lose your friendship. I can’t.”
“Here’s the deal. I love you and I’m worried about you and I want to keep you safe.” His hands cupped her face, then worked their way down her shoulders and her arms. “So there it is. I know you can take care of yourself, but I want the job. Maybe you can see your way to letting me do that.”
“I don’t want kids.”
Finally. The truth revealed. Relief danced with fear.
Max’s hands fell away. Disbelief washed over his chiseled face. “What?”
“I decided a long time ago not to have kids.” The desire to take the words back warred with relief at having this boulder of an obstacle out in the open. “I should’ve told you before, but I couldn’t bear to see that look on your face, the one I’m seeing right now.”
“How is that possible? If any woman in the world would be a good, nurturing mother, it’s you.” His voice cracked. His body stiff, he took one step back. “You play mother to your brother and sisters. You always have. You mother the kids in youth group. You babysit Rick’s kids.”
“It’s not the same. I won’t bring babies into this world.”
“How can you not?” Disbelief turned to desolation followed closely by despair. “All kinds of women have babies who shouldn’t. You, on the other hand, have motherhood written all over you.”
“The world is a cesspool. It’s imploding on itself. It’s a grotesque caricature of what God intended it to be.”
“You think God doesn’t know that?” Max’s voice rose. He stopped, the struggle to gain control obvious. “You think he’s not in charge right now, in this moment?”
“We’re destroying the planet. What will be left for our grandchildren and their children?”
“Have a little faith, woman.”
“I do have faith. I also have the brains God gave me. I understand what’s at stake.” She managed to bring her own voice down a few decibels. “I care about you, Max, very much, but I also know I’m right about this.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” The muscle in his jaw pulsed. His voice turned raspy. “God will never give up on His creation. He’ll never give up on the human race. I’m not giving up on us.”
“I won’t let you give up on your dream of having children.”
“Do you trust me just as I am: a drunk, an addict?”
“I trust you more than anyone in the world. I want this to work out. I’ve always wanted it to work out. I just can’t see how it can.”
Max licked his cracked, bruised lips. He heaved a fractured breath. “It’s a back burner issue until we stop this murdering psychopath. Agreed?”
Nothing would be different then. “Agreed, but I won’t change my mind.”
“Back burner.”
“Okay.”
His gaze never leaving hers, Max picked up his guitar and plucked a single note. “We’re in this together.”
“Together.”
Setting aside her fears for the future to focus on today. One day at a time. The way Max lived his life as an alcoholic. Having faith. “I’d like for you to stay at my house for the duration of this crazy nightmare. If you want to, that is.”
The sudden decision sent a shock wave through Teagan. She’d made it despite herself. “If you don’t want to, I totally understand, but I’m going home to my house. My stepmother will be back from Vegas tomorrow and I don’t want to be in her way. You shouldn’t be alone in your house. What do you think?”
“I can do that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Back burner.” As much as he kept saying that, Max’s expression spoke of something different.
His dreams for the future were crushed and she was responsible.
23
Two funerals in two days had turned the world into a dreary place despite South Texas’s May sunshine. Teagan threaded her way through a crowd of familiar faces in Evelyn’s modest home. If the pomp and circumstance of Kristen Moreno’s funeral had reflected a short life filled with service to her country and her city, Evelyn’s funeral one day later reflected the elder woman’s life. Planned, frugal, and simple.
The reception at her home was much the same. Teagan accepted the tall glass of iced sweet tea Max offered her, raised it to him in a silent cheers, and sipped in the dead woman’s honor. The cold liquid did little to dislodge the knot in her throat. It had been there since she woke up at four o’clock to contemplate a day in which they would say good-bye to a woman who epitomized the word neighbor.
With everything planned and paid for in advance, it hadn’t taken Evelyn’s children long to schedule the memorial service at the Baptist church Evelyn had attended for the past forty years, followed by a reception at her house. It seemed strange to be in her house without her. Her grandchildren ate cake under the watchful eyes of her daughter and daughter-in-law.
Her son-in-law walked around openly staring at p
ieces of furniture. Teagan could almost see the dollar signs clicking in his head as he added up the sale of her antique curio cabinet and the contents, including a complete mix-and-match set of vintage Fiesta dinnerware from the late 1930s, a walnut dining room table and eight chairs made by his father-in-law, a grandfather clock inherited from Evelyn’s parents, and an antique rolltop desk of unknown origins.
“Is he for real?” Teagan muttered as she reached for a brownie, one of a dozen desserts displayed on a table in the living room. Evelyn’s favorites—key lime pie, chocolate pudding cake, and strawberry-rhubarb pie—were nearly depleted by now. Teagan could get behind a funeral reception featuring nothing but desserts. “She hasn’t been in the ground for a full hour.”
Before Max could respond, Oscar Benavides leaned between them and picked up a flowered paper plate. “Aren’t those the detectives investigating Evelyn’s murder?” He nodded toward Justin and Alisha, who had been among the early arrivals at both the funeral and the reception. “Isn’t it a dime store detective novel cliché to think the killer will show up at the funeral? Or do they still think it’s one of us?”
Justin, Alisha, Siebert, and his partner were making the rounds, with studiously casual looks on their faces. They weren’t fooling anyone.
“They’re just being thorough. We all want that for Evelyn, don’t we?” Revealing the details of the investigation to Oscar or any of her neighbors would be a no-no. Her neighbors, who were in danger because of a killer’s fixation with Teagan, were not murderers. Justin didn’t know them the way she did. He hadn’t eaten their tamales on Christmas Eve and walked the block admiring the luminarias that lined the sidewalks in each yard. If they didn’t have unshakable alibis, it was because it never occurred to them they would need them. “I’m sorry if they were overzealous with you.”
“Don’t apologize.” Oscar toasted Teagan with his dessert plate. “Jousting with your buddies was the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
No doubt. Oscar liked to think of himself as a keen intellectual.
Teagan cocked her head toward the less crowded dining room. Max nodded. They edged away. Oscar dropped a brownie and two lemon bars on his plate and scurried after them. Carlos Chavez did the same. They were dressed like twins in black jeans, black T-shirts, and black suit coats. Sneakers had been replaced by slick patent leather loafers. There the housemates’ similarities ended. While Oscar was young and pretty, Carlos had a grizzled salt-and-pepper beard and flowing silver hair. He was at least twenty years older than his friend. And chunky to Oscar’s svelte.