by Myra Johnson
These months in Alpine, meeting Marley, joining the Candelaria outreach.
For I know the plans I have for you...
A long, slow sigh seeped from Ben’s lungs as he raised his head and sat up. Waking his computer, he typed quick replies to both interview requests. Though he had misgivings about either job being right for him, he stated his availability for a Skype appointment within the next few days. He’d leave the final decision up to the Lord.
He’d just shut down his computer when his cell phone vibrated. Marley’s name appeared on the caller ID. As he answered, a smile crept into his tone. “Hey. I was just on my way back to the studio.”
“Good. I’m starved. Where do you want to go for lunch?”
They decided on a sandwich shop a couple of blocks from Marley’s studio. Ben swung by to pick her up, arriving as she stepped onto the sidewalk and locked the front door.
She climbed into the passenger seat and moaned appreciatively as she sank into the leather upholstery. “A girl could get seriously attached to this car.”
“So now the truth comes out. It’s my Mustang you’re really interested in.” Ben revved the engine before pulling into the street. After baring their feelings earlier, he sensed they were both working hard to keep things light. “How’d your meeting go?”
“Fine. Janet brought a list of family members so I could start planning how to group them for photos.” Marley twisted the strap of her shoulder bag. “Were you at the coffee shop checking email?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“And?”
Ben pulled the Mustang into a parking spot across from the sandwich shop and shut off the engine. “How about we talk about it after lunch?”
“Tell me now, okay?” She stared straight ahead. “I won’t be able to eat a bite if I’m wondering where things stand.”
Ben took Marley’s hand, tugging gently until she looked at him. Confusion and doubt filled her gaze, and he knew he had to find a way to bring back the hope he’d seen there this morning.
“I need you to trust me on this,” he said, stroking the back of her hand. “More than that, we both have to trust God. Spending time with you has reminded me how important faith is.”
With a shudder, Marley brushed a tear from her cheek. “Crazy, isn’t it? You’re finding your faith again, and I’m struggling with mine.” She freed her hand and clawed through her purse until she found a tissue. “All these years on my own, I had no option but to trust God. Suddenly I’m terrified He’ll say no to the one thing I want most.”
“Does it help at all to know I want the same thing, too?” She nodded, and he tweaked her chin. “Then let’s give God a chance to work out the details. Whaddya say?”
Chapter Fourteen
After lunch, Ben dropped Marley back at the studio, and she fairly floated through the rest of the afternoon. Maybe she was living in a dreamworld, but the longer it took Ben to find new employment, the more hopeful she became that he might stick around permanently. He seemed content to stay in Alpine with his aunt and uncle for the time being, but he’d been too successful in his former career to settle for just anything.
Money must be getting tight, though, because after her comment about getting attached to his Mustang, he’d casually mentioned over lunch that it might be time to sell it. He joked about trading those hungry “420 horses” under the hood for a single horse fueled by oats and hay, but Marley could tell he didn’t relish the idea of parting with his shiny red status symbol. And she couldn’t picture her hunky city boy driving anything else.
Finishing up in the darkroom, Marley hung her apron on a hook and returned to the showroom. Any minute now, a potential client would arrive to discuss a photo shoot for the grand opening of a new restaurant in town, along with other professional images for promoting the business. Hoping to impress the restaurateur, Marley had already gathered appropriate samples of her work along with price lists. If the meeting went well, the income could keep Marley in her studio for another month or two without having to go to her father for help.
As she arranged her materials on the corner table, her studio phone rang. She checked the caller ID—unknown. Possibly Mom, but she didn’t usually call the studio number unless Marley wasn’t picking up her cell. Either way, Marley didn’t have the energy or the time to talk her mother through another bout of despondency over her life as a politician’s wife.
Hesitantly, she pressed the talk button. “Good morning. Photography by Marley Sanders.”
“Is this Miss Sanderson?” The unfamiliar male voice made her stomach clench. “Marsha Sanderson, from Aileen, Missouri?”
“Who is this?”
“I take it I’ve found the right person. And I must say, you haven’t changed much in ten years.” She could have sworn the man stifled a triumphant laugh. “I could hardly believe it when I came across your picture in a newspaper this week. Congratulations on your new life, Marsha.”
“You’re mistaken. There’s no one here by that name.” Trembling, Marley disconnected the call.
Who had tracked her down? Was she supposed to do nothing while this reporter or private eye or whoever he was exposed her as Representative Harold Sanderson’s delinquent daughter? Dad would be furious!
Maybe the man would listen to reason. Somehow, she had to make him understand it was in everyone’s best interests not to reveal her real name. Intending to call him back, she checked the recent call list, then groaned as she remembered he’d called from an unlisted number.
This couldn’t be happening, not now! Should she call Dad, or just wait and see if the caller did anything with his discovery?
The restaurateur’s arrival removed her choices. “Miss Sanders, nice to finally meet you in person.”
“You, too, Mr. Hillman.” Marley extended her hand, only to realize how badly it shook. Embarrassed, she forced a smile and invited the man to have a seat at the corner table.
The meeting went badly. Distracted by her worries, Marley couldn’t seem to put a coherent thought together. An hour later, when she saw Mr. Hillman out, she guessed from his noncommittal “Thanks, I’ll be in touch,” that she’d probably lost the chance to serve his photography needs.
At least she hadn’t heard from her anonymous caller again. Please, Lord, let him just drop it!
On the other hand, if the man did intend to make trouble, Marley should at least give her father some warning. In the office, she retrieved her cell phone from her purse, but before she could dial her father’s number, the phone rang in her hand and she nearly clawed the ceiling. Seeing Ben’s name on the caller ID, she breathed a sigh of relief, only to start shaking again as she envisioned trying to explain to him about her real identity. If there was any chance at all of something real between them, he deserved to know the truth, but she wanted to tell him on her terms, not because some scandalmonger forced her hand.
She tried to disguise the tremor in her voice. “Hi, Ben.”
“Hello, Marley. Or should I call you Marsha?”
* * *
Ben gripped his cell phone as if clinging to his last ounce of trust while he waited for Marley to say something—anything—to convince him he hadn’t fallen in love with a lie.
“Ben, we need to talk.” Her voice quavered. He could barely hear her. “But not like this. Meet me at my place. I’ll explain everything.”
He stared out the kitchen window, oblivious to Aunt Jane hovering nearby. “Just answer me. Are you really an ex-delinquent from Missouri named Marsha Sanderson?”
Silence stretched between them, until she murmured, “Yes.”
“That’s all I need to know.” Ben jammed the end button with his thumb and let his arm drop to his side. Still, he didn’t move from the window.
Aunt Jane rested her hand on his shoulder. “So it’s true?”
“Guess so.”
“Oh, Ben...” His aunt guided him to a chair and made him sit down. Good thing, because all the strength seemed to have drained from his knees. “Surely she had good reasons for keeping this a secret. Didn’t you give her a chance to explain?”
“What’s to explain? She lied to me. She lied to all of us.”
Uncle Steve marched into the kitchen. “Just got off the phone with Neil Ingram from the Avalanche. The same guy called him early this morning digging for information. Neil’s as stunned as we are.”
Aunt Jane sat across from Ben. “Son, this doesn’t change the person Marley is. She’s obviously done her best to put the past behind her and start over.”
“Maybe so, but...” Ben lurched to his feet and paced across the kitchen. “As much as we’ve shared the past few months, I can’t believe she didn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth.”
“Now hold on, son. You’re not being fair.” Ben’s uncle cornered him in front of the refrigerator. “Ever since you rolled into Alpine, you’ve held the possibility of your next job over all our heads, especially Marley’s. You expect her to risk confiding her deepest secrets when any day now you could leave her high and dry?”
“It’s not like that. Wherever I end up, I was ready to ask her to come with me. But now?” Ben wrapped his arms against his sides. “I feel like I don’t even know her anymore.”
“You know her just fine,” Aunt Jane said, coming to stand on his other side. “You know everything about her that matters.”
A tiny part of him knew his aunt was right. Anyone who cared as much about helping others as Marley did must have a good heart, whatever she’d done in her past. But to be blindsided with this kind of news, just when he’d let himself imagine a real future with Marley, left the fragile fabric of his trust—his faith—in tatters. It felt like God had let him down again.
Lowering his head, he released a long, pained breath. “I need space so I can figure this all out. I’m going home to Houston.”
Uncle Steve’s mouth firmed. “At least talk to Marley first.”
“I can’t, not until I get my head together. Maybe after Christmas...”
His aunt and uncle shared a look, disappointment clearly reflected in Aunt Jane’s eyes. She’d already decorated the tree and filled several cookie tins with goodies. Just this morning, she’d suggested that since Marley didn’t have any family around, Ben should invite her to spend Christmas with them.
Except now he knew Marley did have a family. Her father was a rich and influential state representative in the Missouri legislature. Confusion swept over him again. Why, Marley? Why all the secrets?
Taking a step back, Ben lifted both hands defensively. “Look, you’ve both been after me to mend fences with my dad and Paula. If I spend Christmas in Houston, maybe it’ll give us time to work on it. As for everything else...” He shook his head. “Like I said, I need time to think.”
Edging past his aunt and uncle, he marched to the guest room to pack. Ten minutes later, he aimed his Mustang for the highway. Barring traffic problems, in eight or nine hours he could be sleeping in his own condo again.
* * *
Marley tugged another tissue from the box under the counter and blew her nose. Too distraught to think about work, she closed the studio and phoned Pastor Chris at the church office. “I need to talk. Can I come over?”
“You’ve been crying, Marley. I hear it in your voice. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. And...would you ask if Ernie and Angela can meet us? This is going to be hard enough. I’d rather not have to repeat everything for them.”
Worry laced the pastor’s tone. “This sounds serious. Give me half an hour to clear my schedule, then I’m here for whatever you need.”
By the time Marley composed herself enough to make the drive to Spirit Fellowship, Angela and Ernie were already waiting for her in the pastor’s office.
Angela gestured for Marley to take the center chair, between her and Ernie. She reached over to squeeze Marley’s arm. “It’s okay, honey. Whatever this is about, we’re here for you.”
Pastor Chris joined them a few moments later. “Katherine’s holding my calls,” he said as the door clicked shut. He circled to his desk chair, then folded his hands and sat forward with a worried frown. “What’s going on, Marley?”
Plucking a tissue from her purse, she dried a fresh spurt of tears. “Remember the El Paso newspaper Ben brought back from Presidio?”
“Yes, of course. It was great publicity for Spirit Outreach.”
“I hope you still think so after what I have to tell you.” This was the worst of it, the possibility of her painful past casting a pall over the good their outreach committee was doing.
Doubtful glances passed between Pastor Chris and the Coutus, while Marley braced herself to explain. “Someone recognized me in the newspaper photo. I don’t know who it is yet, or what he plans to do next, but there could be trouble.”
Pastor Chris’s frown deepened, but the sheen of concern never left his eyes. “What kind of trouble are we talking about, Marley?”
Her only hope was to cling to God’s forgiveness and trust Him to see her through this. Even if Ben or her friends here in Alpine never forgave her for holding back the truth, she refused to be ashamed of the person she was today.
She sat a little straighter, her voice strengthening. “I’m not who you think I am. My real name is Marsha Sanderson, and my father is Missouri State Representative Harold Sanderson. For the past decade, I’ve been living under an assumed identity because my father’s PR team worried my juvenile offender record would reflect badly on his political career.”
Utter silence blanketed the small office as her friends took in her revelation. Finally Pastor Chris said softly, “And this changes things how?”
She met his gaze and read forgiveness and understanding in his eyes. With a grim sigh, she answered, “I seriously doubt the man who found me has any intention of sitting on this information. Once the news gets out, you should be prepared for the media to descend. And it won’t be pretty.”
The pastor rounded the desk and propped one hip on the edge. “Reporters, I can handle. However, I am worried about you. How can we help?”
His kindness brought another rush of tears, and Angela shoved more tissues into her hand. When she could speak again, she murmured, “Just be my friends.”
Ernie clamped a hand on her shoulder. “That’s a given. We don’t care who you used to be, and I’ll personally thrash anyone who dares to dis Marley Sanders.”
Marley laughed in spite of herself, amazed that they hadn’t even asked what horrible things she’d done as a teen. “You have no idea what your support means to me. But...are you sure this isn’t going to be a problem for the church? For the outreach ministry?”
Tapping a finger to his chin, Pastor Chris nodded thoughtfully. “I think our best approach is to face this head-on. Marley, I’d like you to share your story in an open letter to the congregation. In your own words, let them know how the Lord has worked in your life, healed and forgiven you, and brought you into His service. Then, when those pesky reporters show up, you’ll have the whole family of Spirit Fellowship standing beside you.”
His words made sense. Even more freeing was the relief of having her identity and her past out in the open. No more living in dread of discovery. No more worrying about the effect on her father’s reputation. That, she would find out soon enough. And the truth was, she didn’t care. Only one thing mattered now—convincing Ben to give her a chance to explain.
Until then, she’d get started on the letter to her church family. Declining Angela’s invitation to spend the rest of the day with her, Marley drove straight home. She’d turned off her phone before leaving for the meeting with Pastor Chris and was almost afrai
d to turn it back on. After Ben had hung up on her this morning, she’d immediately found three missed calls, all anonymous. Probably the same person who’d tracked her down at the studio had also somehow obtained her cell number. Naturally, he didn’t leave messages.
But what if Ben had tried to call again? She plopped on the sofa and stared at the black display, then prayed as she pressed the on button. A whole string of anonymous calls appeared, intermixed with several from the number her mother had last used.
Nothing from Ben.
Nothing she could do about it, either. If he wasn’t ready to talk, she wouldn’t force him. In the meantime, she’d better get the call to her parents over with. Drawing a long, slow breath, she pressed the redial button.
“Marsha?” Her father answered, his voice full of rage. “Do you have any idea of the damage you’ve done? Getting your photograph spread all over Texas, leaving yourself open to be recognized—what were you thinking?”
“You should have expected something like this to happen sooner or later.” Marley did her best to sound calm and mature, but inside, she was still a little girl aching for her father’s approval. “Daddy, I’m doing good now, making a difference with my life. Can’t you just be proud of me?”
“Proud of you? When—” A scuffling sound interrupted him, then muted voices.
Marley’s mother came on the line. “Honey, we are proud of you.” To Marley’s amazement, Mom sounded strong, positive, in control. “This will all work out for the best—I don’t care what your father says. Let me handle him, okay?”
“Mom—”
“I’m serious. This foolishness has gone on long enough. Now, I have some other calls to make, but I’ll be in touch very soon. I love you, sweetie.” The line went dead.
Stunned, Marley dropped the phone into her lap. Could this really signify a change in her relationship with her parents? She’d hoped before, only to be disappointed. But back then, she hadn’t understood the power of prayer.
Maybe this time things would be different.
* * *
