Grace in the Shadows

by Karon Ruiz

  Life would never be the same.

  Laney squeezed her hand. Samantha’s jaw clenched. She willed her tears to stay put as she returned the gesture. I love you too, Laney, her fingers said.

  Natalie and Jeremy Andrews, the youngest couple on the council, had twin girls, Grace’s age. Their families had shared picnics and barbecues. Would Grace still be welcomed in their home? The kindness in Natalie’s expression seemed to say it would be okay.

  Amanda Benson, one of two women in leadership, sat next to her husband, Lyle. A CPA, Amanda volunteered numerous hours as Council Treasurer, readying reports for the annual business meeting. She’d definitely be taking a closer look at the church’s books. She and her husband hadn’t been told yet about their son, Tyler. The council now had much bigger issues to deal with beside some missing tools.

  Liz Cronklin, the council’s secretary, came without her husband. Rod had to work and couldn’t get away. Liz had been typing with a frenzy, taking the meeting minutes on her tablet until Martin got to the part about sinking the car. Her head suddenly bobbed up, her mouth fell open. It took her a few moments to recover and resume typing.

  Brad Sanders sat across from Samantha, wearing a perpetual scowl.

  “Laney and I tried to reach Dalton more than once yesterday,” Martin said. “As you’re aware, the Connors were in dire need.” He turned to Samantha. “We’re grateful you came today. After what you went through, I’m amazed at your strength. Do you know how strong you are?”

  Tears filled Samantha’s eyes again. She shrugged. Strong or a naïve, trusting fool? It felt the same.

  “This has been very difficult for Samantha. Coming here today was her idea,” Martin said. “She’ll do her best to answer any questions you might have. Keep in mind, until yesterday, she knew nothing about any of this. Samantha?”

  Samantha tried to swallow down a growing lump in her throat. “I am so sorry about all of this. Matt and Carla need us. Yet here we are, dealing with the unthinkable. You’ve all been very dear friends and I owe you the truth.” She surveyed the circle. Other than Brad, each person offered her gentle smiles under eyes of grace.

  But no matter what they asked, she had to keep the identity of Dalton’s dealer secret. For Carla’s sake.

  “My husband is addicted to pain medication. That’s … uh …. no excuse for what he’s done.” Her tears streamed now. Laney handed her a tissue and Samantha blew her nose.

  “For months, Dalton seemed isolated, as if he was keeping something from me,” Samantha said. “Yesterday morning he locked me out of his office. That was the final straw. I decided to follow him to Prescott. I wondered if he was … uh ...”

  “Seeing another woman?” Amanda asked.

  “Y-yes.” Samantha stammered. “When I saw what he was really doing, as crazy as this sounds … I thought an affair would have been easier. At least we wouldn’t be looking at prison and public scandal.” Samantha cupped her knees with both hands.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Laney said.

  “I feel awful. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Maybe you’re feeling a little guilt,” Brad said. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What are you implying?” Martin asked, his brow furrowing.

  “How could she have no knowledge of this? She lives with the guy.” Brad tipped his chin in Samantha’s direction.

  She shot him a frustrated look. “I didn’t know anything about this. Like you, I trusted the offering would be sent to the mission.”

  “We believe you, Samantha,” Betty told her.

  “We do, honey,” Laney chimed in.

  “Couldn’t get into his office, huh?” Brad’s voice notched. “We need to see what’s in there.”

  “Later, Brad,” Martin said. Does anyone have any questions?

  Betty raised her hand. “Until Sunday’s offering, where do you think he got the money, dear?” she asked.

  “There wasn’t much left of his inheritance after he bought that stupid car,” Samantha said. “Once that money was gone, he drained our savings. At the time, he told me he was transferring it to stock and I believed him. I’m such an idiot. Except for my small teaching pension, we have nothing left.”

  “Give yourself a break,” Laney said. “You’ve always trusted people. That’s one of your best qualities.”

  “We still need a full investigation.” Brad stared at Samantha. “We can’t just accept your word on this.” She held his glare until he looked away.

  Jeremy raised his hand. “If we place Dalton on an unpaid leave of absence, what would that mean for your family?”

  “Leave of absence? Are you insane?” interrupted Brad. “He should be removed today. Then we’ll press charges.”

  “You’re out of line,” Martin said. “Go home and cool off.”

  “Calm down, brother,” Harold added.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Brad shifted and glared at Samantha. “I’m as much a part of this council as anyone else and I’m not leaving.”

  Samantha refocused on Jeremy. “In answer to your question, we have no other source of income. I’ll go to work. Thank goodness I’ve kept my teaching credential active.”

  Samantha dabbed moisture from the corners of her eyes. “Would it be possible … for the sake of my children … uh … I have no right to ask but I don’t know what I’m going to do ...”

  Laney put an arm around Samantha’s shoulders. “I think what Samantha’s asking is if there is any way we could deal with Dalton without going to the police. Is that right, Samantha?”

  Samantha sniffed and nodded.

  “Could we?” Natalie asked. “None of this was Samantha’s fault. Why should she suffer?”

  “What do you all say?” Martin asked. “Do we need to involve law enforcement? Raise your hand if you think we could handle this as a church matter.”

  Other than Samantha and Brad, every hand went up.

  “I don’t agree,” Brad snapped. “He needs to go to jail. After all, we reap what we sow, don’t we?”

  Samantha’s anger burned deep inside but she had to agree with Brad, there had to be another way. Her daddy sentenced to years behind bars would devastate Grace. Gordon would be humiliated. Life at McCormick’s only high school would become unbearable for a nerdy kid who’d already endured years of teasing by the cool kids on campus. Having his father in prison would heap humiliation on all of them.

  Liz stopped typing and frowned at Brad. “The Bible also teaches ‘mercy triumphs over judgment.’”

  “This money came from hard-working people, Liz,” Brad growled. “Our so-called ’pastor‘ needs consequences.”

  Amanda waved her hand. “There might be a problem with us not going to law enforcement,” she said. “The false police report. We know about it. That makes us legally obligated to tell the authorities.”

  “That might land him behind bars,” added Harold, “but what else can we do?”

  “Maybe he could get community service if we don’t press charges,” Martin offered.

  Samantha raised her head. Feelings of hope surged.

  “Not true,” Jeremy said. “Lying to the police is one thing, but insurance fraud is a felony. He will serve time. Amanda’s right. We must report this or we’ll be named accessories.”

  Hope slid into despair. Jesus, please help me.

  “Has Dalton filed a claim yet?” Lyle Benson asked.

  “He called an hour ago and left a voicemail. He wants to use my car. He has an appointment later today with our agent.”

  “We’ve got to stop him from making this worse,” Martin said. “We’ll head over there now. It would be better if you didn’t come.”

  Samantha nodded, relieved. Seeing Dalton now would be excruciating. “I’ll be at the bereavement meeting in the annex. If Dalton doesn’t answer the door, there’s a key under the ceramic frog near the front steps.”

  Fee
ling dismissed, she folded her chair and headed toward the door.

  In a matter of moments, she’d lost her place in her beloved church. She forged across the threshold as more tears streamed down her cheeks. Dalton hadn’t just tanked his own life but he’d taken her down with him. She wiped her face after the doors clanked shut.

  No “A” had been threaded into her clothing, but like Hester Prynne, in The Scarlet Letter, disgrace felt unbearable. A garment of shame barred her from the life she loved, much like the banging doors behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Come To Jesus Meetin’

  _________________________________________________________

  1:55 p.m.

  Saint Luke’s Community Church

  “Let’s be clear on who’s doing what,” Martin said. He hugged a metal box close to his chest. After four years as the head councilman for Saint Luke’s, he’d never thought he’d be conducting a meeting like this.

  “I will go to the bank,” Amanda said. “We’ll need a second signature to make the changes.” She picked up her purse and stood.

  “Tell them I’ll be there before they close,” Martin said.

  Amanda nodded and she and Lyle stacked their chairs with the others, then left the building.

  Natalie Andrews got to her feet. “I’m going to the bereavement meeting.” She walked toward the door. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “Thanks, Natalie.” Martin turned to Harold. “Could you and Betty stay here until the locksmith arrives?”

  “We will.”

  “I have a problem with that,” Liz said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’d rather wait with Betty. I feel uncomfortable around Pastor … uh … Dalton. Harold can take my place.” She handed Martin her iPad. “I’m sure one of you fellows can take notes. The church bylaws require this be documented.”

  “She’s right.” Martin looked at the other men. “Any volunteers?”

  Harold and Brad shrugged their shoulders.

  “I’ll do it.” Jeremy took the tablet.

  Brad pointed to the metal box. “Shouldn’t we force that open?”

  Martin sighed. Brad was testing his last nerve. “If we have to. Samantha might know the combination.” Martin handed it to Liz. “Hold on to this. Everyone ready?”

  The men headed out the front door to Martin’s gold Fusion where they all piled in.

  ***

  2:20 p.m.

  Baxter Home

  Dalton foraged through the refrigerator. He’d eaten the rest of Sammy’s yogurt an hour ago and was still hungry. Warm scrambled eggs would be easy on the jaw. The Oxy had waned and an ache reclaimed his cheek.

  After eating, he inspected his face in the hallway mirror. A red fissure of swollen skin revealed a tiny glint from his right eye. He’d be a sight to see at the insurance office. Sammy never returned his call so he’d be stuck with Gordy’s van.

  A familiar tremble took over his fingers. His brow furrowed as he studied his hand. It had only been a few hours since his last dose. Did Matt scam him? Had the pills been cut with fillers? But that didn’t make sense. He’d felt invincible yesterday. Today, stopping the jitters was imperative.

  He had to convince Klaussner he’d been a victim of a crime and needed a loaner car until his claim was settled. If he appeared confused or shaky, the agent might be suspicious. It could be weeks until he got his money. A loaner would be better than driving that 1966 hippie van anywhere, let alone to his interview on Thursday.

  He fished another Oxy from his pocket and swallowed it.

  He retrieved Gordy’s keys from a hook and headed toward the front door.

  The bell chimed.

  His gut twisted. He didn’t have time for this. Maybe he could get out the back.

  The doorbell rang again, followed by a heavy knock.

  “Coming!” He charged to the door and yanked it open. Somber-faced Martin Fernández and most of the council members congregated on his steps, all wearing dour faces.

  What did they want?

  Martin stared. His eyes widened. “We need to speak with you.”

  “My God, look at his face!” Brad said.

  Dalton nodded. “I took quite a beating,” he said. “I can’t meet with you now. I have an appointment downtown.”

  “We’re here on important church business,” Martin said. “You’ll need to reschedule. May we come in?” Martin didn’t wait for an answer but charged past, the men following in line like an army unit on patrol. When they reached the end of the foyer, Martin turned around. “Are you coming? We’ll be in the den.”

  What were they doing? He needed to leave.

  He opened his mouth to protest their presumptuousness. Then he followed more slowly. When he reached the den, the men had distributed themselves on the couch. Only Martin remained standing.

  “Look Martin, I told you, I need to leave. I’m meeting my insurance agent. Is this about the Connors? You’re welcome to wait here. We can discuss the funeral arrangements when I get back.”

  “Matt and Carla are well-taken care of. We’re here on another matter,” Martin said.

  Dalton waved at the clock on the mantle. “Later. Got to go.”

  “It’s not happening that way.” Martin’s steel-like stare made the hairs on the back of Dalton’s neck stand up.

  “We know everything,” Brad said. “The car. The drugs. You hitting yourself with that hammer. The false police report. All of it.”

  Martin glared at Brad. “I told you I would handle this.”

  “Whaaaa … ?” Dalton’s voice cracked. “What are you saying?”

  “Do I have to say it again?” Brad stood and got into his face. “Everyone knows what went on yesterday. Beginning with that so-called offering.”

  “Offering … ?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know!” Brad yelled. “Do you guys believe this? He’s still trying to con us.”

  Martin pushed Brad aside. “If you can’t control yourself, leave.” The two men locked eyes. As Brad returned to the couch, he straightened his back. His lips formed a thin line of defiance as he crossed his arms.

  Martin motioned to Dalton. “Take a seat.”

  Dalton’s rubbery legs welcomed the easy chair by the T.V. while Martin dropped onto an ottoman. Martin shot Brad a look. “Apparently I need to remind everyone, that I’m the spokesperson for this meeting. Jeremy will take notes.” Martin returned his attention to Dalton. “We hope you’ll be forthcoming.”

  He’d been blind-sided. The realization stole his voice. Who … how …?

  “We’ll follow what’s outlined in scripture regarding church discipline,” Martin continued. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

  “H-how ... did you … ?” Dalton stammered.

  “Samantha followed you yesterday.”

  “Sammy?” There had to be some mistake. “Where is she?”

  “At the bereavement meeting.” Martin cleared his throat. We decided this will be easier coming from us. Normally it could be a private council matter, but since it involves church funds, we must inform the congregation.”

  Dalton balled his fists between his knees, sucked a deep breath.

  “You’re being placed on an unpaid leave of absence effective immediately. Your name will be removed from all church accounts and the locks on the buildings changed.”

  Good thing he’d taken a pill just before they arrived. A surge of confidence had him smiling and holding up a hand. He could nip this in the bud. “Hold on a minute. You can’t do this. I’m the head pastor.”

  “Not anymore. Check our bylaws,” Brad shouted, his face beaming with victory.

  “We have a fifty-one percent ruling authority,” Martin added. “Even if you’d been present for the council vote this afternoon, it wouldn’t have mattered with our unanimous decision.”

  “Hey guys … things
have been hard for a few months since my accident. People do desperate things … uh … when they are in pain.” Dalton pointed to his knee. “Who would be the pastor if I was laid up? Let’s talk about this. I don’t want to step down.” I can’t be removed from ministry. How would that look at his interview Thursday? Oh, God, what have I done?

  “You should be fired and arrested,” Brad said. “Unfortunately, I was overruled on that … at least for today.”

  “Should you make a false insurance claim, more charges will be added to the ones you’re already facing,” Martin said.

  “Charges?” Dalton’s confidence deflated like a popped balloon.

  “There’s no other option but to tell the authorities the truth,” Martin told him. “We hope you’ll do the right thing.”

  “We’re driving to Prescott tomorrow, to press charges,” Harold said. “We’re willing to take you if you’ll turn yourself in.”

  “No!” Dalton’s heart galloped through his chest. “You don’t understand. I plan to pay it back. We can work this out.”

  Martin leaned toward him. “Look Past—I mean … Dalton … if there was a way we could do this within our church family for the sake of your wife and kids, we would. But you filed a false police report. If we collude with you in covering this up, we become accessories to a felony. For the sake of Saint Luke’s, we have no alternative.”

  “Everything I borrowed is recorded. I can show you. It’s in my desk.” Anxiety lodged itself in his throat. “I just need my meds a few more weeks, that’s all.”

  “Typical addict talk,” Brad said. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “How dare you, Sanders.” Dalton glared at him. “I am not an addict.”

  Brad scoffed. “Denial. Another sign.”

  “The pain in my knee is excruciating.” Dalton squirmed, looking at the other men. Everyone was silent. Why wasn’t anyone coming to his defense?

  “You’re hooked, Baxter. Face it,” Brad said.