by Nancy Mehl
“Wow. That’s interesting.”
“Yes, and a bit scary.”
Zac nodded. “I’ll be checking out everything I put in my mouth from now on.” He frowned. “What else did you want to ask me?”
I pointed at his phone. “It was about your friend. Check your messages.”
Zac punched several options on his phone and then looked up. “No message, but he did call. I’ll call him back now.” He immediately pressed a button, put the phone to his ear, and then waited. After a moment, he shook his head. “It’s going to voice mail.” I listened while he left a message and then hung up. “Sorry. We’ll just have to wait for him to call back. What’s going on?”
Trying hard to keep my emotions in check, I quickly told him about my father’s revelations and about the note stating Ryan was still alive.
“Wow, Wynter,” he said when I finished. “I can’t believe it. Are you okay?”
I shook my head. “No, but I’ve got to think about Ryan now. That note makes me think that Elijah really is Ryan.”
“Maybe, but it only said your brother was alive. It didn’t say he was Elijah.”
I sat down on the edge of Zac’s bed. “You’re right. The one thing I don’t understand—”
“You mean there’s only one?”
Even though I didn’t feel like it, I smiled involuntarily. “No, you’re right. There’s a list of things I don’t get, but one point really bothers me.”
“And what is that?”
“If the person who sent the note knows what’s going on—I mean, if he knows where Ryan is—why doesn’t he just tell us?”
Zac sat up a little straighter in bed. “Good point. It’s like he’s playing a game.”
“Or like he wants to help us but yet he doesn’t.”
Zac fell back against his pillows. “It’s too much for me to figure out. I’m too weak. My brain is barely functioning.” He frowned at me. “Did you call Ed?”
“Yes, and we have some extra time.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t happy about it.”
“No, but what could he say?”
“I guess my near-death experience isn’t all negative.”
“Funny.” I pulled my legs up and clasped them with my hands. “I’ve got to get back downstairs. I have no idea what to say to my father.”
Zac sighed. “Look, Wynter, I’m the last person to give advice on family. My father took off when I was a kid and never came back. There’s a man downstairs who went through a lot to be your father. And he’s still trying. I know all this has been a shock, but if he didn’t love you—and your brother—he wouldn’t be here now, right? And he certainly wouldn’t have told you the truth about what he did.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. At least I understand some things now that I didn’t before.”
“Like why everyone else in your family has dark hair?”
“No, but good point. I was thinking about why my father changed so much. Why he sold our house. But—”
“But what?”
I turned to look directly at him. “He said my mother asked for the divorce. It’s the first time I ever heard that. Why didn’t she tell me the truth?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to blame others for what we do. Maybe she holds him accountable for what happened.”
“That makes sense. I guess he yelled at Ryan that last morning, before Ryan got on his bike. My mother blames him because my brother never came home.”
“But it wasn’t his fault, Wynter. The real blame lies at the feet of the person who took him.”
“I know that.”
Zac reached over and put his hand on my arm. “Maybe you should point that out to your dad. It might help him.”
“He doesn’t feel like my dad right now.”
Zac pulled his hand back and shrugged. “Then who is? The man who sold you?”
His comment felt like a slap in the face. I couldn’t form a response. Instead, I started to cry.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry.” He struggled to sit up again. “I’m such a jerk. I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”
“No, it’s not you,” I said between sobs. “It’s just such a shock. Feels like my life has been turned upside down.”
“I understand.”
“I know you’re right, Zac. It’s all just too much to handle right now. But I need to focus on Ryan, not me.” Suddenly, a horrifying thought popped into my mind. “I’m not really Ryan’s sister.” The words came out in a whisper.
Zac grabbed my hand. “Wynter, look at me.” When I did, I saw determination in his face. “Answer this question without thinking first. Without pausing. Will you do that?”
I nodded slowly.
“Is Ryan your brother?”
I started to hesitate, but Zac shook his head. “No hesitation. Is Ryan your brother?”
“Yes,” I blurted out. “He’s my brother. He always will be.”
“Then doesn’t that make you his sister?”
I squeezed his hand. “How does a smart aleck like you get to be so intelligent?”
He shrugged. “I like to keep my super intellect a secret.”
I smiled at him. “I don’t think that will be a problem.” I tried to pull my hand away. “You can let go of me now. I’m okay.”
He released me. “All right, but if you need me, you know where to find me.”
“Yes, I do. In bed, milking all the attention you can get.”
“Hey, as you said, I’m no dummy.”
I looked into his eyes. “No, you’re not a dummy; you’re a good friend. I doubt anyone else on this planet could get me to smile right now—except you.”
“Thank you for that. I know I don’t really deserve to be your friend. I was ready to betray you, but you understood and forgave me. That’s a rare quality.”
I knew he was hinting about my father, but I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t moved anywhere close to forgiveness yet. It was too soon. “Just let me know when you hear from your friend. I’d really like to know if Elijah was born in Jamesport before we go any further with this.”
He nodded. I turned to go, but he called my name.
“Yes?”
“Hang in there, Wynter. You’ll get through this. I just know it.”
“Better be careful. You’re starting to sound like one of those religious nuts you hate so much.”
He traced a pattern on his quilt with his index finger. “Maybe they’re not all as nutty as I thought.”
Not knowing what to say, I just nodded, closed the door behind me, and headed downstairs. Instead of going into the living room, I cut through to the kitchen and went out the back door. I found Esther’s large metal trash bin next to the house, but it was empty. The trash had been picked up, probably earlier this morning. Now there was no way to find out if the fudge was responsible for making Zac sick.
When I went inside I found my dad pacing back and forth across the living room floor. I heard Reuben’s voice, but he became silent when I walked into the room.
“Don’t stop talking on my account.”
“It can wait,” Reuben said. “How’s Zac?”
“Doing good. He sent a friend of his to Jamesport to check out Elijah’s story, but we haven’t heard from him yet.”
“What story?” Dad asked.
“Supposedly Elijah was born there. If that’s true, obviously he can’t be Ryan.”
“I would be shocked if he’s not,” Reuben said. “You’ve apparently stirred up something.”
I sat down in the rocking chair. “I guess you’re right. So at what point do we call the police?”
“I don’t know,” Reuben said, shaking his head. “We don’t really have anything to give them yet.”
“Even if this friend of Zac’s says Elijah wasn’t born in Jamesport, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true,” Dad said. “Unless his information is something more than hearsay, it can’t be trusted.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of
that.” I frowned at Reuben. “Maybe we need to go there ourselves. Now that I’ve got a little extra time—”
“No,” Dad said. “I’ll go.”
I started to protest.
“Emily, I need to help. Please. This is my son. Let me be involved.”
Before I could respond, someone started pounding on Esther’s door. I went over to open it and found a woman standing there. “I’m Janet Dowell, a friend of Esther’s. Is . . . is Reuben King here?” She was younger than I’d imagined, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes that were wide and full of tears.
Reuben stepped up behind me. “Hi, Janet. What’s going on?”
“It’s August.”
“What about him? Has he come back?”
She shook her head as tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, Mayor. They found him in a field outside of town. He’s . . . he’s dead.”
Chapter
Sixteen
Reuben left with Janet, and I went to find Esther. She was in the laundry room at the back of the house. I told her about August.”
“Land sakes,” she said. “What in the world happened?”
“I don’t know. Janet said they found him in a field outside of town.”
She took her apron off and flung it on top of the washer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk over to the church and see if they know anything more. Will you keep an eye on Zac?”
“Of course, I will. He’s doing much better though. I think you can quit worrying about him.”
“Oh, honey. I don’t worry anyway. I just pray and trust God. Zac will be fine.” She leaned in close to me. “God has His hand on Zac. You know that, don’t you?”
Startled, I nodded even though I had no idea what she was talking about. She turned to leave but stopped and came back, linking her arm through mine. “You know, Wynter, most people try to trust God based on His Word. And that’s the way it should be. Every promise of God is true, and we can be confident that even if every man lies, God does not.” Her light-blue eyes peered into mine. “But believing someone’s words, whether it’s a person in our lives or God himself, only comes second to knowing their heart. If you understand someone’s heart, you can believe what they say. Do you understand what I mean?”
Again I nodded dumbly. She hugged me and toddled off. I stood there, thinking about her comments. Since arriving in Sanctuary, a lot of Scriptures had been coming to me. Scriptures I told myself I believed, yet they weren’t really alive to me. Was it because I hadn’t taken time to know the author of those words?
I started back toward the living room. The man I called Dad was waiting for me. Was I thinking about what he told me, or was I concentrating on who he was? My head pounded with confusion. Everything had changed. Not only about the way I’d come into my family, but also what I’d believed about my father. He hadn’t left us. What did that mean to me? My world had just been turned upside down, and I had no idea how to get it right side up again.
On my way to the living room, I discovered Zac coming down the stairs, dressed, and with his hair combed.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be in bed,” I said sternly.
“I’m determined to join the world of the living, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.” I linked my arm through his, and together we joined my father in the living room.
“Zac,” Dad said. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. I thought I heard Reuben earlier,” Zac said as he sat down on the couch.
“You did,” I said. “He went into town. August Metzger, the cook from Randi’s café, was found dead a little while ago.”
“What?” Zac frowned at me. “What happened?”
“They don’t know. Esther went to the church to see if she could get more information.”
“That’s too bad.” He shook his head. “The main reason I came down was to tell you I heard from my friend Mark. The guy I sent to Jamesport.”
“What did he say?”
Zac glanced over at my father and then at me.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He knows all about it.”
“I’m afraid the news isn’t as helpful as we’d hoped. Mark nosed around as much as he could without appearing suspicious. Several people remembered the Fishers. They lived there all right before coming to Sanctuary. But as far as Elijah goes, one guy said he thought Elijah was born there, but another woman couldn’t remember Elijah at all.”
I sighed with exasperation. “So where does that leave us?”
“Back to my original idea,” Dad said. “I’m driving to Jamesport.”
“Are you sure, Dad?”
“Yes. You need to stay here in case Elijah comes back.”
“Okay, but please keep in touch. And don’t tip anyone off. The Fishers might have friends that still live there. We don’t want them to find out someone’s asking questions. They might run so far away we’ll never find them.”
“I understand, Emily.”
I glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. “When will you leave?”
“Now. We need this information as soon as possible.”
“Do you want me to make you something to eat first?”
“Thanks, but I’ll pick up something on the way. It looks like a storm’s moving in, and I’d like to stay in front of it.”
“Okay, Dad. Please be careful.”
He nodded. “I will.” He reached into his pocket and took out the note he’d shown us earlier. “Why don’t you keep this? I’d feel better knowing it’s here where I can’t lose it.”
“Okay.” I reached out and took it from him.
He stared at me for a moment before turning toward the front door.
“Don’t you need to call Angela and tell her where you’ll be?” Even saying his new wife’s name made me sick to my stomach.
Dad stood for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, not looking at me. “Angela left me two years ago, Emily. We’re divorced.”
Without saying another word, he walked out, closing the door behind him.
I turned to Zac, my mouth hanging open. “I can’t believe I’m only finding out now. He could have told me.”
“Could he?” Zac asked.
“What are you saying?” I snapped. “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for a man who’s been lying to me my whole life?”
“Look, Wynter, the last thing I want to do is upset you, but it seems to me that man gave you your entire life. I mean, who knows where you might have ended up if he hadn’t taken you home from that hospital? He raised you, spent almost all his money protecting you—”
“You mean protecting himself.”
Zac scowled at me. “He paid a blackmailer because he didn’t want to lose you. And he didn’t want you to lose your parents. Can’t you see that?”
I plopped down on the couch next to him. “Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not defending him, but I think you need to sit back and take another look at this situation. Your father took you home from the hospital because he loved your mother so much he didn’t want her to know her baby died. Then he raised you, loved you, and did everything in his power to protect you.”
“If he’d wanted me so badly he could have—”
“Adopted you? How? By telling your mother her daughter died? By possibly pushing her over the edge? And what about her past? I think he’s right in saying that most adoption agencies would have turned down their application.”
I shook my head. “I hear what you’re saying, Zac, but that doesn’t make it right. Look at all the trouble his actions caused.”
Zac sighed. “I know. But you need to look past his actions and consider his heart.”
I felt as if I’d been punched in the face. Were Esther’s words coming back to haunt me? “You . . . you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled, hoping he’d back off.
“Maybe I don’t. But I know what it’s like to let something negative affect your entire life. I did i
t, and I don’t want you to make the same mistake.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My parents were married for five years before I was born. After I arrived, my father decided he didn’t like competing for my mother’s attention. He demanded that either I be put up for adoption or he would leave. Mom refused to give me away, and he took off. Left my mother with nothing. No money. No job and no training. She’d married right out of high school, and my dad hadn’t allowed her to work. She struggled for several years. Started off on welfare, and then finally got a job in a restaurant. She worked as hard as she could, even taking extra shifts so she could earn more money. Still, we barely scraped by. Eventually, she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, and it got harder and harder for her to work. Finally, she lost her job because she couldn’t keep up.
“We’d been going to the same church for years, and sometimes they’d help us with food. It wasn’t much, but we were grateful for it. My mom considered these people family. Things got worse and worse until finally, desperate to take care of me, she officially filed for divorce from my father and asked for child support. He’d never given us a penny. Never checked up on me. Never called. Never visited. By this time he owned a large car lot and was making good money. When the elders in our church found out, they kicked her out, telling her it was a sin to divorce her husband. I was only eight when it happened, and I can still remember the look on her face when they called her out in a service, in front of the entire congregation. She was in complete shock. They gave her the chance to repent. To call off the divorce. She tried to explain. Tried to make them understand, but when she refused to repent for her supposed sins, two elders came over, took us by the arms, and led us out of the building.”
“Oh, Zac. I can’t believe it.”
“Well, believe it. When the door slammed behind us, my mother sank to her knees on the sidewalk. I was crying, trying to help her up. I couldn’t understand what had happened. Then I looked over at the sanctuary windows and noticed a woman who had been Mom’s best friend sitting there, watching us. She looked upset, and for a moment I thought she was going to come out and help us. But finally she just turned her face away. After a few minutes, my mother got up, took my hand, and led me back to the car. We drove away from that church and never went back.”
