by Sally John
“How’s that?”
“As a Christian hanging out in the real world of bigwig newspaper types at the most elegant dinner I’ve ever attended?”
“I think you know the answer to that, else you wouldn’t have asked it. You passed with flying colors.”
She opened her eyes. “And how’s that?”
“You seem to be getting the hang of this asking questions.” He scrunched down on the bench, leaned back and closed his eyes. “You made me look real good.”
She poked his arm.
He opened one eye briefly. “Okay, okay. I was impressed. You were yourself, Isabel Mendoza, confident, intelligent, blatantly full of integrity without being judgmental when conversations deteriorated into sewer subjects.”
“Ha! Showed you, Mr. Ward.” She closed her eyes again.
“You’re gloating.”
“No, I’m not. I didn’t do anything. Jesus Christ lives in me, and He likes people and parties.”
“He does?”
“See, you still don’t know much. It’s high time you read Brady’s books if you’re not going to crack open a Bible.”
After a few silent moments, Tony said, “You were the most beautiful woman cheering for me.”
She smiled.
“May I kiss you?”
She tapped her cheek.
“No, may I kiss you?”
It was as if everything shifted into low gear. Shocked by the sudden change, her heart felt erratic, her limbs like water. She sensed movement, Tony sitting up straight, turning toward her. She didn’t budge.
“Nah, forget I said that, Iz. According to quintessential gentleman behavior, I promised not to.” He settled back down. “But you sure are beautiful.”
Thank You, Father, she breathed. If Tony hadn’t answered his own question, she would have said yes.
They headed north on Michigan. At Congress, Tony grabbed Isabel’s hand and pulled her from the path of a swiftly turning cab.
He didn’t let go until a few blocks later when they entered a restaurant. She wished it were at least another 12 blocks away.
Fortified with more coffee and their first bites of cheese omelets, they finally slipped into their flowing conversational style.
“Izzy, we’re definitely out of practice. We act as if we’ve been up all night.”
“Two A.M. is all night for me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that goes for me, too. College was a long time ago.”
“Extremely long time ago.”
“Has the statute of limitations been reached yet?”
He’d lost her. Maybe she wasn’t quite awake yet. “For what?”
“For holding a grudge.”
“Do you want all those pancakes?”
He scooped one over to her plate. “I still get these vibes that the sooner I leave Valley Oaks, the better you’ll feel. I did apologize for hurting you eons ago, didn’t I?”
“But you didn’t even know what you were apologizing for.” Her fork clattered as it hit the plate.
“So tell me exactly.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just that,” she glanced up at him, then focused again on her plate, “it was such an ugly time in my life. When I see you in my safe little town, I’m reminded of it over and over and over again.”
“Is that why you’re more comfortable with me here in Chicago than in Valley Oaks?”
She watched the cheese ooze from her omelet.
“Iz?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Maybe.”
“Ah. Progress. Okay, now tell me, what’s a Christian to do with her ugly past?”
What do I see you dragging up here…is that for your atoning? “There’s this song.” She paused and let the words flow through her, felt the music resonate inside. Lowering her eyelids, she shut out Tony’s face and began to sing softly.
What do I see you dragging up here?
Is that for your atoning?
I know you’re sorry;
I’ve seen your tears,
you don’t have to show Me.
What makes you think
you must make that go away?
I forgot when I forgave.
I wish you would…
Just come in,
just leave that right there.
Love does not care.
Just come in,
lay your heart right here.
You should never fear.
You think you’ve crossed some sacred line
and now I will ignore you.
If you look up, you will find
My heart is still toward you.
Look at the sky,
the east to the west.
That’s where I threw this
when you first confessed.
Let it go now.
Just come in…
I will forgive you
no matter what you’ve done,
No matter how many times
you turn and run.
I love you…
Isabel looked up in time to see Tony brush a finger at the corner of his eye. He twitched his nose. She said, “That’s what God says about it, compliments of a Margaret Becker paraphrase.”
“So why don’t you let it go?”
Her breath caught. “Seven years later…I don’t know. Still trying to earn my own way, I guess.”
For a moment he stared quietly toward the window beside them, before turning again to her. “My sister jumped on the bandwagon. Literally. Did you ever hear of Sky Hi?”
She tilted her head from one shoulder to another as if the motion could jar loose a memory. “Rock group. They took alternative Christian rock to the nth degree. I’m not well acquainted with their music though.”
“Joanna knew their music. She believed it and through it became a Christian.”
“People hear the message in unimaginable ways.”
“They definitely spoke her language, that of the ex-drug addict. She became a groupie. She went to Colombia because that’s where they went.”
“What?”
“They wanted to minister to the coca growers.” Undisguised bitterness laced his tone. “The band left. JoJo stayed, with others, determined to love the unlovable to Jesus. Six of them were killed. Four came back.”
“Oh, Tony.” She reached for his hand across the table and squeezed it. He tightly held on to hers.
“Someday I’m going to put my investigative skills toward getting the whole story. I’ve lost track of those four, but I’m just too close to the situation right now. I can’t observe it objectively.”
“After hearing your praises sung last night at the awards dinner, I’d say that someday you will do it and do a credible job. Probably win the Pulitzer.”
He gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Iz.”
She smiled back. “Do you want both of those pancakes?”
Tony passed one to her. “That’s what I remember about you.”
“That I love pancakes?”
“No. That you know how to make me believe in my writing.”
“Hmm. That’ll cost you one more pancake.”
Hours later, after they’d driven back to Valley Oaks and parted ways, Isabel replayed the conversation in her mind. What stood out was Tony’s deep distrust of Christian musicians…which came under the umbrella of Christian artists…as did Christian writers…like Brady Olafsson.
Isabel cuddled Nutmeg against her chest, glad to be back home. After Tony dropped her off at her house, she had hurried over to Lia’s to pick up the kitty. “I missed this silly cat. Are you sure she was no trouble?”
Chloe smiled. “No. Except she slept with Aunt Lia. Soot kind of pushed her out of my bed.”
“Lia, I hope you wore a decent pair of jammies. That’s what she’s used to, you know. Silk.”
Lia laughed. “Can you stay for a cup of tea and tell me all about your trip?”
“Sure, if I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all.”
&nbs
p; Chloe said, “I’ll play with Nutmeg until you leave. I have to do homework.”
Isabel handed her over. “Thanks.”
The little girl sang as she headed down the hallway.
Lia set a cup before her at the kitchen table. “Chloe and I did some shopping and ate dinner out. Want some banana cream pie?”
Isabel groaned. “Tony and I ate for 24 hours straight. Last night’s dinner was unbelievable. There were something like seven courses. Pâté, a scrumptious salmon stuffed in filo with a spinach and Gorgonzola sauce, and then raspberry cheesecake. Mmm.”
Lia laughed as she prepared tea. “I do miss Chicago food.”
“I can understand that. Hey, is Cal coming over by any chance?”
“I don’t think so.” There was an odd note to her voice. She sat down. “Sounds like you had a good time.”
“Fantastic. I haven’t had so much fun in ages. I’m just a bit concerned about some things Tony said.” She relayed the story about his sister and the music group. “Cal might be right about Tony having it in for Brady.”
“Cal said that?”
“Yeah. I feel bad. I accused him of playing cop like it was a sin he should confess.”
“I came close to accusing him of having a racist for a girlfriend.” Lia’s hand flew to her mouth and her black eyes grew large.
“What?” Isabel couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sorry, but you’re pretty close to the truth. I just don’t think I would come right out and tell him.”
“I didn’t. It started out with a dinner invitation. I had invited him and Tammy and Dot and her husband over last night. Cal accepted, then Dot told me none of them would be coming because Chinese food makes Tammy ill. And then Cal stumbled around, tripping over his tongue, explaining how he and Tammy have this standing Saturday night dinner date.”
“Oh, Lia, I’m sorry. I know that hurts.”
“It does. I think I was snippy to him.”
Isabel laughed. “No way. If you were, I’m sure he didn’t notice.”
“I thought we were good friends, but now things are all uncomfortable, as if I’m trying to get between him and Tammy.”
Isabel shook her head. “There’s nothing to get between. They’re not engaged. Cal doesn’t even seem all that serious about her.”
“But they have this standing Saturday dinner date.”
“Which he seemed to have completely forgotten not just once, but twice.” Isabel gathered steam, her tone turning sharp. “Maybe his Sundays are still free. You two can be friends on Sundays. Have a standing Sunday dinner date.”
“Isabel! I am not interested in Cal that way!”
“Well, why not? You think he’s attractive. Besides, I don’t trust Tammy. Cal needs a good woman. When we ate pizza here Sunday night, I saw his rapport with you, how he paid attention to you.”
“The same could be said for you and Tony.”
Isabel made a noise of disgust. “Way too much baggage between the two of us.”
“Well, I’ve got so much baggage it’d send Cal running for the hills. Izzy, I think you and I are back to that other conversation.”
“About not complicating our lives with men?” Isabel smiled.
Lia grinned back at her. “That would be the one.” She raised her teacup. “Here’s to the single life.”
After tucking Chloe into bed, Lia climbed into her own with a calculator and the pharmacy bookkeeping ledger with some notes from her accountant. Tired as she was, this had to be taken care of tonight.
“Dear Father, I need wisdom with these figures.”
An hour later she set down her pencil. Tomorrow was the first of October. September had been a good month, with a slight increase over August profits. Based on past business, she calculated what Agstar’s prescription plan brought in during an average month. The plan covered 49 percent of her regular customers, 25 percent of them retired and on monthly refillable drugs.
Subtracting that amount from her income put her in the hole.
Thinking that she could cut out company for dinner and not drive anywhere, she subtracted groceries and gas. No more baking two banana cream pies.
This put her slightly less in the hole.
Grandpa and Grandma would help pay for Chloe’s clothing. Of course, her parents had always done that.
The business loan would carry the pharmacy for a short time…Thanksgiving maybe.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
She shut the ledger and pushed it away. “Lord, I don’t know what You’re doing. It looks like we’re going under.” She drew up her knees and buried her face against them. “Oh, Father, I don’t want to go under! Didn’t You bring us here? Why would You bring us here just to fail and turn around, pack up, and leave? Pull Chloe out of school? Why?!” She poured out her complaints until she could think of no more. “Will You fix it? Please?”
Lia sat quietly, listening for the stillness but hearing only her whiny tone. She clapped her hands over her ears. Let it go. Let it go. “You gave it to me,” she whispered. “It’s Yours. I know You love me. I know You love me.”
A distant ringing crept into her consciousness. It was the pharmacy line downstairs. She blinked, then looked around her bedroom, waiting for the business machine to click on and stop the ringing. This was a repeat of the past two nights. The message had been only heavy breathing.
Suddenly her private line rang, the jangling of the bedside phone tearing through her nerves like an electric shock. It rang again and then a third time before she managed to grab it. “Hello?”
“Lia.”
She recognized the deep voice.
“This is Cal. Are you all right?”
“No. Yes. Why?”
“I’m across the street, your lights are still on, and it’s after midnight. What’s wrong?”
“I’m just…I’m just working on accounting.” She could handle this alone. The loss of the business. The pointless phone calls. She didn’t need Cal’s help. She had God to lean on. Him and her impressive independence—
“What’s wrong?” he repeated.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m just tired.”
“All right. I won’t keep you. Uh, about the pie.”
Lia closed her eyes in disbelief. It was the middle of the night, and he was talking about the pie. She thought of how she had dumped it in the garbage.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get over to pick it up.”
“Banana cream doesn’t keep long.”
“Yeah, my mom used to tell me that. The thing is…” He paused. “Lia, I feel like an idiot, but I better just say it straight out. Tammy thinks there’s something going on between you and me. So I probably shouldn’t pick up any more pies. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
She searched for gracious words, reminding herself that he wasn’t required to receive a gift from her. It wasn’t as if he’d asked for it. “Well, tell her that she doesn’t have a thing to worry about, Cal. But I can see her point. I mean, if I were involved with you I wouldn’t want you going around having dinner with other women.”
He didn’t respond.
“Cal, tell her it’s just my way of paying you for the doorbell and everything. No big deal. It won’t happen again.” She leaned toward the window and peeked through the curtain’s edge. The outline of his truck sat across the street. His truck, not his cruiser. “Aren’t you on duty right now?”
“No. Just driving by. The wrought iron bars over the back window were a good idea.”
“Cal.” She’d used up her supply of good manners. Exasperation inched her voice up a notch. “If I can’t make you a pie, then don’t check up on me when it’s your night off.”
“It’s my nature. I’m a cop. I’m concerned. It doesn’t mean you have to repay me. Jesus does all sorts of things for us, and He doesn’t ask for anything in return.”
“That’s true, but I love Him in return and would do anyth
ing—” She heard the words flying unchecked and pressed her lips together to stop them.
“But I’m not asking for any—”
“You know, your analogy doesn’t work! Just stop cruising by when you’re not on duty.”
“Hey, I don’t need another woman telling me what to do!” His tone instantly crushed the teddy bear image into a plain old bear.
“Cal, this conversation is going nowhere.”
“You got that right! I’ll see you around.”
She heard the click of him disconnecting.
Eighteen
Tony hauled a chair from the back of the pharmacy, set it near the front counter, and plopped onto it, grinning the whole while.
Isabel shut the cash register drawer and frowned at him. “Why are you sticking like glue to me? I’m simply working at the store, ringing up purchases and dusting. It’s nothing to write home about.”
“Ha, ha.” He shrugged. “I have a few hours to kill. The Author has gone off to the airport to pick up his in-laws-to-be. Now that’s nothing to write home about.”
Hands on hips, she glanced at the ceiling and shook her head. Hadn’t she passed inspection yet?
“Besides, you’re exceedingly more intriguing to watch.”
“And you’re too charming for your own good.”
He hooked his hands behind his head and crossed his legs, right ankle resting on the left knee. He wore his usual jeans and loafers, today with a royal blue crew neck sweater that intensified the color of his eyes. The usual lopsided grin spread across his face.
Isabel felt a tickle, as if the floor had just dropped beneath her about a foot. Stunned, she knelt behind the counter and retrieved the feather duster. “Ward, why don’t you go buy us some lattes?”
“Because I’d have to drive into Rockville to get them.”
She fluffed the duster against his nose as she passed him. “Exactly.”
A movement at the back of the store caught Isabel’s eye. Lia marched down from the slightly elevated pharmacy counter and toward the back room. Phone pressed to her ear, its long cord uncoiling behind her, she spoke sharply, “No!”
Isabel hurried down the aisle. The three people sitting in the chairs exchanged uncomfortable glances. Two women stood in line to have prescriptions filled, conversation halted. Dot frowned.
