by Dana Corbit
He cocked his head to the side and studied her before speaking again. “That’s not my area. I only gather evidence for court cases. But I’m guessing that the court might be lenient here, especially since Ashley now has the support of her family.”
“Some family,” she muttered.
Stiffening this time, Zach gripped the edge of the fountain seat beneath him. His glare was filled with warning. “They’re not perfect, but they’re trying. Ashley’s sister, Samantha, is even moving home from D.C. to be with her. They’re registering for counseling—just like you recommended—because they want to make their family the best place for Gabriel to grow up.”
Pilar shot her hand out to dismiss the idea. “So Gabriel gets to be the test case to see if their grand plan for reuniting their family is working?”
Zach came to his feet and faced her. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?” His arms were crossed, his jaw tight.
She hated that he was angry with her, but this was too important for her to back down. “Zach, she deserted her baby.” She spread her arms wide and enunciated each word to make her point.
“She rested him on her parents’ fancy cashmere blanket in her family’s heirloom picnic basket and dumped him on the adoption agency’s doorstep like he was nothing.”
Zach shook his head, his crossed arms tightening. “I shouldn’t have to explain this to someone with your professional background, but have you ever heard of extenuating circumstances? She’s not even eighteen yet. Without her parents’ support, she’d never be able to provide for her baby, and she was afraid they would never accept him.”
“That didn’t give her any excuse to abandon him.”
“No, it didn’t, but it gave her a reason. I believe she loves her baby and wanted to do the right thing for him—even if, ultimately, it wasn’t the right thing. That’s why I’m going to testify on her behalf in court.”
“How can you do that?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She’d gone too far and she knew it, but still she couldn’t help but say more.
“How can you say what she did is okay? She left her newborn outside. He could have died. Don’t you see that she’s unfit to be Gabriel’s mother?”
“Who are you to decide that? I thought that was the judge’s job.”
Pilar flinched. “How do you know that the next time things get tough—like when he’s teething or in the terrible twos—that she won’t drop him off at the mall or any other place she can find?”
Zach stalked away from her to the fence, where he gripped two of the black bars, clearly trying to regain control of his emotions. Finally, he faced her.
“That’s not fair, and you know it. You saw her note. She wanted her baby to be placed with a loving family.”
“This isn’t about fair.” She planted her hands on her waist. “It’s about Gabriel.”
“Is it? Tell me, Pilar, is it really about Gabriel, or is this whole thing about you? Is it about a fantasy that the court would have the great idea of making you Gabriel’s mother?”
She jerked at the sting of his words. He hadn’t even said it, but she knew he was really asking if it was about her fears that she would never have children. She shook her head hard to dispel that thought and all of his mistaken assumptions.
“That’s not it.” She opened her hands wide. Somehow she had to make him understand. “This is just like what you said about some things you can never take back. No matter how many pretty excuses she comes up with, Ashley left her baby. She can never change that. Anyone who abandons her child doesn’t deserve a second chance.”
For several long seconds, Zach just stared at her, his eyes wide. Then he started shaking his head as if he was having an argument with himself and losing. He pointed his index finger at her. “Who are you?”
Her breath caught in her throat as the subtext of the conversation dawned on her. It had been more than about Ashley all along, and she’d trampled in verbal combat boots all over the subject—and his memories of his sister.
“Zach, I…” She wasn’t sure what to say, but it was pointless anyway because he only walked away from her.
He stopped and looked back at her, his expression vague as if he was looking at a stranger. “How could I have been so wrong about you? I thought you were compassionate. I thought you cared about people.”
Slowly, Pilar came up behind him, but not too close for fear he would only stalk away again. “I do care. You know that.” If that was true, then why did her words ring so empty in her ears?
“You’re just like them.”
Again, she flinched. She didn’t want to be grouped among the “them” that he didn’t even have to identify for her to know: his parents.
“I’m not,” she said in a weak voice.
He acted as if he didn’t hear her. “You’re just as judgmental and unforgiving as they were.”
“You’re wrong.” She shook her head again, though a seed of uncertainty sprouted inside her.
“They were wrong, all right.” He turned to face her.
“The price of their mistake was high—two lives.”
Dread sank low in her gut as she realized she would pay a high cost, as well. She was losing the only man she had ever, and probably would ever, love. She felt him slipping through her fingers like grains of sand on a windy beach, not just fluttering to the ground but scattering in all directions.
As if he only now realized that their argument had taken place in the courtyard and that others might have overheard, Zach lowered his voice. “I was right about you all along. I knew better. You were too perfect.”
“What do you mean, perfect?” Her question came as a whisper because she’d never felt more flawed.
“You told me that I hadn’t seemed to see you when we first met. Oh, I saw you, all right. I saw your perfect, intact family and your perfect life.”
He glanced at her quickly and then looked away again. “You were so beautiful that I didn’t want to come anywhere near you for fear that my muddled-up life would mar all that perfection.”
She swallowed hard and her eyes filled. Her chest ached so badly that it felt as if someone had laid a weight over her and left her there, struggling to breathe. His revelation answered so many questions but only left her raw inside. He’d thought her beautiful then, but had found her unapproachable. Now he knew her as well as anyone, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near her.
“Please, Zach, you know me now. I’m not perfect. I never said I was.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and she didn’t even bother to brush them away. “Maybe I overreacted about Ashley’s situation. Maybe I’m too close to the subject. Maybe we both are.”
“There is no we.” Turning away, he started toward his car.
“But Zach,” Pilar called after him, “you said…you said…you loved me.”
He stopped. Hope and doom battled inside her as she watched him, so still on the outside when a war as confusing as her own likely waged within him. Finally, he turned back to her, his expression blank.
“It doesn’t matter what I said. I can’t be with you. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t know how to forgive.”
Without looking back, he continued to his car, climbed in and drove away. A sob escaped her throat as Pilar sank back on the seat at the fountain’s edge and buried her face in her hands. Her fingers felt wet, her insides numb.
You’re just like them.
His words accused her. Delivered a strong prosecution with no defense. So she stayed there and cried, not feeling the cool air swirling around her. She closed her eyes, but there didn’t seem to be any way to block out the truth and the conviction in her heart: He was right.
Chapter Fifteen
“Hold on there, buddy,” Zach called through the front door as he unlocked his apartment. Already, whimpers and scratching came from the other side of the door.
Turning the knob, he braced himself for Rudy’s seventy-pound greeting. The dog didn
’t disappoint, and Zach wiped his wet chin, giving his pet a good scratching behind the ears. Without turning on the light, he reached inside and retrieved the dog’s leash and a small trash bag from their regular spots on a stack of boxes.
He frowned into the darkness as he snapped the retractable leash onto the German shepherd’s collar. “How can you bear to live with me?”
But Rudy didn’t fill him in on the challenges that went with being Detective Zach Fletcher’s roommate. Instead, he danced around the hallway and announced his need for an immediate bathroom break with a sharp bark.
“Hush, boy. Do you want to get us evicted?” But Zach let the dog lead him out the door and into the complex’s commons area.
Outside, he glanced up at his darkened apartment window and frowned again. Why did he suddenly resent the place that had served him and his dog well for the last two years? Probably because today he took exception to nearly everything in his life, himself most of all.
As soon as Rudy was ready, Zach returned to the apartment, but his sour mood came back inside with him. He wished he could have shed it as easily he had his jacket, which he’d tossed on another box along the wall. Even the dog must have noticed that something wasn’t right with him because Rudy nuzzled his hand and paced through the apartment, as unsettled as his owner.
Zach tried to shake off his funk by getting on with his nighttime routine, but when he flipped the light switch, it only illuminated just how empty his apartment was. His life was. The hand-me-down chipped dishes and the bare walls he’d never paid attention to before mocked him now.
Boxes he’d packed for his move from Philadelphia still lined the walls, used now for storage instead of transport. Couldn’t he at least have nailed up a single framed print in more than two years? Maybe one of those cheesy nature-scene calendars?
No wonder he’d never brought Pilar to see his place, though he’d seen plenty of hers while she recuperated. If it weren’t for the books stacked by the leather couch, the always-current television guide by the remote and an open box of cereal on the kitchen counter, the place would look vacant. Nothing there, other than a few chew toys and a sprinkling of dog fur, made it feel like home.
Like Pilar’s apartment. He’d felt more at home there than he’d ever felt inside his own four walls—the same walls that seemed to close in around him while he paced the room.
He wondered what she was doing at home right then. Had she already eaten her dinner at her tiny dinette? Was she relaxing on her sofa, watching television or reading? Had she spent some time breathing in the cool evening air while sitting on her balcony?
So easily he could picture her in any of those places, and he smiled at the image they brought to his mind. But the image changed, and so did his thoughts. Had she spent the evening crying instead because of him?
He didn’t want to believe it, but he’d seen the first of those tears before he’d even left the courtyard outside her office. Were there more later? He wanted to shout to her, to tell her he wasn’t worth crying over, and yet his own eyes burned.
Running from those thoughts, Zach stalked across the living room/dining room that was far bigger than the one in Pilar’s apartment, and hoisted a bag of what manufacturers would have more accurately called “horse chow.” He filled Rudy’s bowl, and the dog didn’t waste any time digging in, his dinner late for the third time in as many days.
“Sorry you had to wait, buddy.”
He grabbed the water bowl and refilled it in the kitchen sink, but the dog was still crunching contentedly when he returned.
“At least one of us has something to be happy about.”
For the apartment’s other occupant, prospects for happiness were pretty much nil after the things he’d said today. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t know how to forgive. Even if she did know how, which in his heart he knew she did, she probably would choose not to use that ability for his sake. He certainly didn’t deserve one of those second chances they’d argued about.
A person who loved someone didn’t speak to her that way, even when he believed she was wrong. And he still did believe she was wrong, but his accusing her had been like calling the kettle not only black, but black and hot and whistling.
She could have told him that. She could have called him the hypocrite he was for focusing on her, when he should have been looking inward. But she hadn’t. She’d just taken everything he’d dished out and let it convict her.
Though he’d been only a child in Sunday school when he’d memorized the verse, Jesus’ words in the Book of Matthew filtered into his thoughts then. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?
How long had he been carrying the weight of that log? When would he finally have the courage to remove it? What could he do to fix the mess he’d made of his relationship with Pilar? Could he get the do-over he didn’t deserve, or was it something he couldn’t take back?
Zach sat on his sofa and dropped his head into his hands, the weight of the questions heavy on his shoulders. But inside him the agitation only multiplied. He couldn’t stay there anymore. He had to get out of there before those bare walls folded in on him.
Leaping up, he patted his startled dog on the head and grabbed his jacket. He didn’t even bother to shut off the light. He’d spent too much of his life in the darkness of blame and doubt, anyway.
He hurried out to his car and climbed in. Turning the ignition, he drove into the night, heading for the one place where he was convinced he would find peace.
Pilar glanced at the clock on her dashboard as she pulled her car into the spot nearest her church’s side entrance. It was nearly 11:30 p.m. Reverend Fraser had always had a policy of leaving the small side door unlocked all night for anyone needing to enter the sanctuary to pray. She only hoped that the vandalism and fire at the adoption agency hadn’t made him amend that policy because she really needed some time in prayer tonight.
Not that she had to do it inside the church—she knew God listened wherever she talked to Him. But she had the feeling they would be having a long discussion, and she’d always felt closer to God while she rested on one of the aged wood pews and prayed open-eyed while staring out the stained-glass windows.
Tonight, though, she would close her eyes since the sun wouldn’t be there to illuminate the glass scenes of the Cross and the words of Jesus’ commission to “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations.”
“I’m here, Father,” she whispered even before she opened the door.
Why she felt the need to move silently, she didn’t know. The building would be empty at this hour. Even Reverend Fraser didn’t work this late—not if Naomi had anything to say about it. Still, Pilar pulled open the glass door with great care and closed it behind her.
Her heart was so heavy after a day of the Lord convicting her. Zach had been right about her. Where was her compassion for Ashley and her son? She’d been thinking only of herself, of her own fears, not that child, not that mother. She’d hated seeing the girl regain custody when others would have given anything to have a child.
What room did her judgment leave for second chances like those God had so freely given her? How had she shown Christ’s love to the “least of these,” while she was refusing to forgive a young woman who’d made a terrible mistake?
She’d been selfish and self-centered today just as she’d been every day since she found out about her fertility issues. Her selfishness had not only lost her the earthly man she loved, but it had cost her a right relationship with her Lord, and she couldn’t bear that. And wouldn’t any longer.
The first thing that struck her as she started down the aisle was a small light in the sanctuary. Coming from behind the baptismal, it bathed the pews and the altar in soft yellow light. Pilar stopped and stared. She understood that where two or three gathered, the Lord promised to be in their midst, but still she felt His presence there, as well—in the silence.
Reverently, she c
ontinued toward the altar, but when she’d made it halfway, she stopped cold. She wasn’t alone there after all. Zach was kneeling on the steps at the base of the altar.
Her heart squeezed in misery from being so close and yet so far from him, but she turned to go anyway. His prayer time was private. He hadn’t come here to have an audience but to be alone with his God just as she’d planned to do. But he started praying aloud then, and she felt weighted into place, an eavesdropper to a spiritual conversation.
“Lord, please help me to finally let go of my anger, to finally forgive.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes and nose burned, predicting tears that weren’t far behind. Even if she couldn’t have Zach in her life, she wanted him to finally make peace with his past. Maybe even to heal that chasm between himself and his parents. She wanted that because she loved him more than she needed to be with him.
“And Lord,” Zach began again, “help me find a way to earn her forgiveness. Help me to show her that I love her…without conditions.”
Whether it was a sob or a gasp that escaped her throat, she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, the sound brought Zach’s head up from his folded hands. She knew the minute he recognized her from the shadows, because his body stilled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She started backing away, not sure what to do, but then she stopped herself. Mustering all the courage she could, she strode purposely down the aisle to him.
He stood and faced her when she reached him.
“Zach, I’m so sorry. I was wrong—”
But he raised a hand to stop her. Her heart squeezed. Had she misunderstood what he’d said? Was she lying to herself to believe that she could be at peace if Zach finally found healing, but still chose not to be with her? Would the pain be more than she could bear?
Zach only shook his head, his eyes too shiny. “No, I was wrong. I accused you of being unable to forgive when I was the one who never forgave my parents or myself. I went chasing after Gabriel’s missing mother to prove that I could make things right for a family, even if it wasn’t my own. I thought I owed it to Jasmine.”
