“You really do make me sound pitiful.” Gee, and I wonder if Owen filmed me stuffing my face.
“No, not pitiful, beautiful, inside and out. You’ve captured my heart. I promise you, I’ll never touch another woman as long as you live.”
Jen quivered in the bucket seat. What was going on? Was this real or was she dreaming?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “I’m going to ask you a question.”
Jen’s heart thudded like a hyperactive child pounding on her first drum set. She wet her lips.
“Do you believe God would forgive you if you asked, or do you have to earn his forgiveness?”
Jen lowered her face and patted her thighs, almost laughing at the absurdity. This wasn’t what she expected. But in a way, she was relieved. “I’m not sure.”
“Jesus said, ‘Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.’ You go to him empty-handed, like this.” He took her hand. “Open you hand.”
She turned her palm up, not daring to look at his face. She needed forgiveness, but what did it have to do with empty hands?
“I’m going to give you a gift.” He placed the box in her palm and clasped it. “Take it and it’s yours.”
She trembled under his touch, wondering what was in the box. Perhaps empty, an illustration for the pitch he was making. He used to go door-to-door and convert people. That was how he met Jocelyn. She hazarded a glance. His gaze was warm, benevolent, enveloping her with care. A flush warmed her cheeks. She tried to shake the box, but he held onto her hand tightly.
“Remember John 3:16?” he said. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
“Uh… Yes, Pastor Thomason told me to memorize it when he gave me the Bible.”
“Not just memorize, but believe it. God gave his Son. A gift. When someone gives you a gift, do you have to earn it? Work for it? Pay for it?” He held her hand, not letting her open her palm.
“No. Just take it.”
“Or you could refuse it, couldn’t you?” He squeezed her hand gently and let go. “No one says you have to take it.”
She held onto the gilded cardboard box. “But I don’t know what it is.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “God shows us his gift in the Bible. His Son, Jesus Christ died on the cross and rose again so that we could be forgiven of all our sins. ‘To him give all the prophets witness, that through his name whosoever believeth in him shall receive remission of sins.’ God’s gift is his Son, Jesus Christ. Will you take it?”
Jen teetered on the balance. Could she really just take it? With all her sins, she had nothing to lose. “Yes. I want God to forgive me. And I want his gift.”
“Then, let’s pray and tell God. I’ll help you.” His voice was as soft as his touch.
Jen wanted the warmth of acceptance, of belonging. Jesus would never cast her away. She bowed her head and repeated after him. “Dear God, I believe You when You said You’d forgive my sins if I believed in Your Son, Jesus Christ. I’m asking You to save me and forgive my sins. I acknowledge my sins, they are ever before me. And I confess them to You.”
Dave kissed the top of her head. “You did it. Jen. He’s saved you, and you have a clean slate. Everything forgiven. Now, let me ask you. If you were to sin again, would he cast you away or would you still be forgiven?”
His grin encouraged her, and a warm feeling hugged her.
“He’d never cast me out,” she answered. “He promised. So he would still forgive me and keep me. It’s that easy, right?”
“Yes. Would God make it so hard to take his gift?” Dave held her hand and squeezed it over the box.
Jen wiped tears with her free hand. A feeling of incredible lightness swept her, and the weight of her depression and guilt lifted as effortlessly as the sightseeing balloons that floated in the foothills of San José.
When she looked up, Dave stared at her expectantly. “Do you want to open the box and see what my gift is? I know it’s miserable compared to what God just gave you.”
“It’s not miserable. Even if you gave me a dog turd, it’d still be from you.”
“You are so not romantic.” He took a black velvet box out of the cardboard box. “Open it.”
A gust of wind shook the car, and Jen’s shoulders slumped. Abby was still out there, and she was at fault. And Christy was still missing. Not a good time to think of anything else.
“I can’t. Not until we get Abby back.”
He cupped her face and stroked her beauty mark with his thumb. “My love for you is not contingent on getting Abby back. Remember my words. I love you, I forgive you, and I want a future with you without regrets.”
She nodded and tucked the box in her pocket. God had saved her and forgiven her. But Dave was only a man, and a man could change his mind.
* * *
Dave kissed Jen again, not too deep lest she thought he only desired her physically. “I guess I could have done that better, found something more romantic than the side of the road. But I wanted you to know in case anything happens to either one of us. I love you, baby.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she shivered at the same time. He switched on the ignition and cranked up the heat. Outside, the temperature had dropped and the sun sat low in the sky. She put a hand on his thigh as he pulled onto the road. “I love you, too.”
A warm glow spread over him. “Jen, you’ve just given me my life back.”
She squeezed his knee. “Thank you for telling me about God’s gift. I don’t think I could have listened to anyone but you.”
Emotion swelled in his throat. So many years he considered her his enemy, talked himself into hating her, when all along, she had been hurting, grieving and so lovable. He loved her so much his entire body ached. He swallowed and gripped the steering wheel. Could he truly put the past behind him and cherish her, or would he resort to picking the wound whenever they fought?
“Christy’s still not answering.” Jen had her ear pressed to her cell. She left a message and looked glumly at Dave. “We don’t even know where to go. What do we do when we get to Reno?”
“My father has a house there. I’ll call him and see if he can let us stay while we search.”
“Dave? What about the kidnappers? And Abby?”
“We can’t do anything until the DNA comes back. Phil thinks they’re not kidnappers—that they’re extortionists. Rey returns from Iraq and finds out about Abby’s kidnapping. He sees an opportunity to make money, so he uses his daughter as bait.”
“But… it doesn’t make sense if his daughter is Emily.”
“Okay, so he uses Patty Brown’s daughter as bait. Same difference.”
“I still don’t want anything to happen to Abby.” Jen rubbed his arm.
“Me either. They’ve already hurt you.” His voice wavered. “The worst part is I failed to protect you.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He made a fist. “They hurt you to prove they could be violent. I’m sorry about blaming you. I say stupid things when I’m stressed.”
“I called you names, too. I lied to you, but I would never hurt you deliberately.”
He glanced at her. “Is this confession time?”
“Maybe. I want to spend the rest of my life making things up to you. I want you to be happy.”
A smile trickled to his face. So, she wanted to spend her life with him, after all. She truly did love him. After they find Christy, he’d take her to an intimate restaurant, the corner booth, get on his knees and open the velvet box. He switched the wiper blades to high as the snow began to fall and turned on the radio to his favorite station of eighties rock. The music reminded him of his dad. Would he be glad to hear from them? He’d call when they were closer.
Jen fidgeted in her seat, possibly embarrassed by her admission. He poked her arm. “I’m going to hold you to what you just said.”
His grin was met by a blush and a forced swallow. Her right hand was tucked in her jacket pocket where she had put the velvet box. He leaned closer and turned the air vent toward her, causing her hair to flutter. “Let’s play twenty questions. Since we’re spending the rest of our lives together, I want to know everything about you.”
“What do you want to know?” Her voice quavered. She looked over her shoulder as if someone were sitting in the back seat.
“How about your parents? Where are they from?” He’d start with something easy. Anything to pass the time until they arrived in Reno. With luck, the Reno police would have already arrested Sammy for taking an underage girl across state lines.
“My mother’s family’s from Puerto Rico, but my father’s Cajun from Louisiana.”
“How did they meet?”
“Mami won a beauty contest, and Pop’s band was there for a gig. I guess the Americano swept Mami off her feet.”
“That’s cute. And you’re nine years older than Christy, so they must have stayed together at least until you were nine?”
“Not really. They got married but never divorced. It was off and on, and off and on. I don’t think he really loved us kids.” After a pause she asked, “What about your parents? They’re divorced?”
He told her about his sister and her Down’s syndrome. “Some people can’t accept disabilities. I don’t understand it. When someone is weak and needs help, it makes me care for them more, not less. But I guess my dad felt Vivian reflected badly on him. He didn’t much like me either. Called me a sissy.”
Jen took his hand and traced letters in his palm. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-S-I-S-S-Y.
“I’m going to get you for that.”
She traced. S-E-E-I-F-Y-O-U-D-A-R-E.
“I can’t wait.” He slid his hand up her thigh, and she slapped it.
As they approached Lake Tahoe, Dave pulled out his phone to call his father. “There’s no signal. How about yours?”
Jen checked her phone and shook her head. “What’s happening? Are we out of range?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the weather.” They drove several miles, but the snow flurries reduced visibility to a few car lengths, slowing traffic to a crawl. “Still no signal?”
Jen bit her lips. “No. Do you think we can make it to Reno at this rate?”
“We’re not far from my cabin,” Dave said. “It’s on the north shore of Tahoe. I have a landline there.”
The wind howled and pushed the SUV around. Dave reprogrammed his GPS, engaged 4WD, and turned on his fog lights. About forty-five minutes later, they pulled up to a small wooden house buried in drifts of snow among a stand of fir trees.
Chapter 37
Jen shoved her hands in her pockets while Dave retrieved a snow shovel from the shed and cleared the driveway. She gripped the velvet box, rubbing it like a charm. She should be curious, excited, and swooning. Any normal woman would have slobbered all over Mr. Dave Jewell’s toes to receive a gift from him. So why was she numb, as if she had been inoculated, anesthetized, almost as if there were a wall behind which she existed, feeling as if Jen Jones was a silent observer into the life of Jennifer Cruz, or was it the other way around?
He bent over with the shovel, his jeans stretching over a nice tight behind. The buzz cut accentuated the angular planes of his masculine face, and the light from the SUV threw shadows of his perfect form on the snowdrift.
Wiping his brow, he turned and cast a sidelong grin at her. Caught! Her heart would lodge permanently in her throat if he didn’t stop bending and flexing up the long driveway.
Too soon, the show was over. Dave moved the SUV into the carport, dragged a log off the woodpile and opened the door. “Sorry, but this place is really primitive.”
He flicked on the lights while Jen stomped the snow off her sneakers. “I do have electricity and plumbing,” he said, “but the gas is off, so we’ll have to build a fire.”
“It’s okay, as long as your phone works.” Jen rubbed her hands, still chilled.
The cabin was like a place out of the 1950’s. The kitchen table was laminate surrounded by a chrome frame with two-toned red and white vinyl chairs with chrome legs. The refrigerator and stove had that rounded look, again trimmed with plenty of chrome, knobs, and dials. Not a keypad or digital display anywhere. A black and white cat wall clock, the kind with eyes that move back and forth with a pendulum tail, watched from the cabinet wall. There, on the laminate countertop, sat a black telephone with a rotary dial.
Jen went straight to the phone to call the Reno police. She dialed 4-1-1, turning each number around until her finger hit the silver hook and waiting for the dial to rewind back to starting position. The handset was heavy enough to knock someone out cold. The automated voice transferred her.
“Reno Police Department, how may I direct your call?”
She gave the case number assigned by the San José police and asked for an update on the Christy Cruz search. A few seconds later, she was put through to the sergeant in charge.
“We have good news,” he said. “Your sister is safe with her father.”
“Father? Where?” Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you sure she’s safe?”
Why would her roustabout father, who wouldn’t even speak to her, be meeting Christy in Reno? And why would Christy rather have her father than Jen at the wedding chapel?
The sergeant shuffled some papers in the background. “We consider the case closed.”
“But… she’s underage, and there’s a young man she’s with who’s involved in a gang.”
“Hold your horses,” the sergeant grunted. “Ms. Cruz was not with any young man.”
“Maybe he’s posing as her father. Let me speak to her. She’s not answering her cell phone.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you. Are you sure you’re her sister and not a reporter?”
“I swear I’m her sister. My mother’s name is Maria Cruz. I’m sure no reporter knows this. My father is Len Jones of Patterson, Louisiana.”
“That’s not her father’s name.”
“What do you mean?” Dizziness overflowed Jen, and she leaned back on Dave.
She cupped the phone. “He says Christy’s with her father, and his name is not Len Jones.”
“Keep talking to him,” Dave said. “Get him to tell you where she can be contacted. She’s a minor.”
“Sergeant?” Jen said. “Please tell her, Jennifer Cruz, her sister, is very worried about her and I’m stuck in a snowstorm trying to find her. Oh, and my cell doesn’t work, the tower must be down.”
“Sure, and I’m Big Foot. A number where you can be reached?”
Jen gave him the cabin number, and he promised to contact her immediately. She hung up and shivered in Dave’s embrace. “I should have known. Christy was acting weird after finding her birth certificate. She shoved it in her purse like it was nothing.”
Dave rubbed her shoulders. “You couldn’t have known. Did they say she’s safe? Maybe I should call my father. See if he heard anything on the news.”
“No. Keep the line open until after I hear from Christy. When the roads clear up, we can go get her.”
“I’ll make a fire. You’ll be okay?” He kissed her.
Jen sat on the barstool next to the phone. Moments later, it rang and she snatched it off the cradle. “Christy?”
“I’m okay, Jen. I found my father, and he’s really nice. I can’t believe no one told me.”
“Slow down. Where’s Sammy?”
“Sammy left already. He saved me. His friends were after your memory stick. A bunch of us copied poems and turned it into English and Mrs. Sanders was suspecting us. The next I knew, Sammy asks me where the stick was. I told him I didn’t know, and he took me to his house saying it would be the last place they’d look for me. And sure enough, they beat up Mr. and Mrs. Walker, but I heard they’re okay and they ransacked my room. So Sammy says this isn’t safe and I looked up my father, and you know he’s Dave’s fathe
r? I’m like I know a guy named Dave Jewell, and—”
Jen dropped the handset with a loud thud. The black and white checked floor turned and hit her as the chrome stool toppled.
Alarm bells clanged in her head, and a pesky hand was gently slapping her cheek and dripping water over her forehead.
She pushed the hand from her face and coughed. “What happened?”
Dave cradled her head. “You passed out. Are you okay?”
“No! How can I be okay? Did you speak to Christy?”
His face was grim and his eyes serious. “I also spoke to my father. I don’t know what to say. It’s a big shock.”
Jen fanned her face, feeling faint again. “How could this be? I feel like I’m in some strange nightmare… nothing is what it seems. And you! Did you know?”
His eyes opened wide and his nostrils flared. “Me? No! Who would have thought? I mean, I knew my parents had problems, especially after Vivian was born…”
Jen covered her eyes. “I can’t believe my mother would do such a thing. She was a devout Catholic.”
“Don’t be too hard on her. She must have been lonely.” He picked Jen up and put her on the furry rug in front of the fireplace. “Lie down and relax. I’ll go get pizza. Is that okay, or do you want to go out?”
“Whatever you decide. Is there a bathroom?” Jen refused to think about her mother. Just flat refused. This couldn’t be true. It had to be a cruel, cruel joke. Christy was yanking her chain. Dave’s brain was abducted by aliens, and well, the sergeant, he was plain mean. Big Foot… more like the Abominable Snowman.
Dave pulled Jen to her feet. “Oh, I’ve been so rude. The tour.”
Everything from the tin signs along the wall advertising “Moxie” and “Remington Shotguns” to the Western Tin table lamps and the duck decoys spoke of antiques. A collection of lunchboxes, a Marilyn Monroe round fashion tote, Gumby and Pokey and Felix the Cat toys lined the shelves. The furniture was comfy and worn, chintz sofas covered with psychedelic afghans and tie-dyed chair coverings.
Broken Build: Silicon Valley Romantic Suspense Page 30
