Her Good Name

by Josi S. Kilpack

  A breeze picked up, taking her breath away and sending her curls behind her shoulders. A dog started barking. Someone down the road slammed a door. Life sounds, proof that people were living life, just like she was.

  She hurried to the sidewalk of her own house and up the steps to her wide, cement porch, but then paused and turned to face the night, avoiding the dishes waiting for her, avoiding the stillness of the house—wishing she could avoid her own thoughts as easily. She’d been anxious for Livvy to return home and take care of the kids half an hour ago, but now she wasn’t longing for her own company so much. She sat down in one of three patio chairs she kept outside, thinking that maybe if she stayed outside long enough, the cold would either numb her worries or spur her to make a decision. About what, she couldn’t be sure. But she’d felt a growing unrest these last few months, like something wasn’t right, something was out of place. She didn’t know what it was, but often found her mind circumventing it—like when someone’s car broke down in the middle of the road. She’d just ease to one side or another to avoid it and continue on her way. Tonight, with Livvy’s night on the town, that car felt too big to get around. Perhaps it was time to stop looking for shortcuts.

  From her porch, she could see into the Parkers’ living room. They lived across the street, a nice white family with four kids squeezed into a home built for two. The big picture window glowed like a television screen in the darkness. She couldn’t help but watch them. It looked like bedtime for the Parker kids, too. She felt bad for spying, as if she were some kind of Peeping Tom, but she didn’t feel bad enough to look away. Other people’s lives seemed so full sometimes, so . . . necessary.

  Brother Parker had his youngest son, Terrance, tucked under one arm, and as he walked past his wife he let his hand brush across her shoulder blades. She looked up from whatever it was she was doing and smiled until he and the kicking feet disappeared through a doorway. Such simple intimacy brought a sharpness to Chrissy’s chest and for a moment Chrissy allowed herself to delve into that old fantasy of having her own family, her own children. She tried not to anymore, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. Was that the unrest? Was she realizing how far away from that life she’d traveled? Was the banging of each tick of her biological clock finally taking its toll?

  The fantasy played out, and she couldn’t help but be pulled along with it. What would it be like to have a husband to cook for, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold throughout her life? But those things weren’t her life, never had been, and as every birthday passed she had no choice but to accept that it may never be. It wasn’t as if these thoughts were new ones. For years she’d been trying to find joy where she was, even if it wasn’t her plan A, or B, or even D, E, or F. She knew she needed to get away from the status quo path to happiness and focus on her situation, her actual circumstances. What did she really want? What did she really need?

  It took almost a minute to narrow down her thoughts. “Help me allow myself to be at peace with the direction my life has taken,” she whispered. Chrissy knew the power of peace—she’d felt it when she first realized she wanted to be baptized. The feeling came again two years later when, on her eighteenth birthday, she entered the waters of baptism, despite her family’s wishes. The same feeling had made itself known dozens of times since, the silent calming of her fears when some aspect of life threatened to overwhelm her. She needed it now, needed this unrest to be quelled. “Let me do the right thing, and know what the right thing is.”

  Every time she’d spoken to her Father in Heaven this way, He’d answered her, and despite the cold, she felt the warmth of His arms around her, reminding her that she was His child, that He loved her.

  That she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  Really? she asked in her mind. This is where I’m supposed to be? In this house, with Livvy’s children instead of her own? She wondered if she’d missed some opportunity and was now being punished for it.

  Trust me.

  Those two words couldn’t have been more powerful if someone had yelled them in her ear. She felt the questions begin to settle.

  The image of piercing blue eyes staring at her from under a Boise State baseball cap passed before her, and she sighed. Amanda had said he might call and Chrissy had allowed herself to get her hopes up. But it was Thursday, more than a week since the date-gone-bad. Some things just couldn’t be fixed.

  Trust me.

  She let out a breath and nodded into the night pressing around her. Brother Parker returned to the living room, kid-free, and sat down while Sister Parker scurried around, trying to undo the day’s damage on her living room. They were just two people, after all. A couple, yes—parents, certainly—but here at the end of the day they were just two people, with individual, though connected, paths to navigate in life. Chrissy had her own path, and wishing it were a different one simply kept her from moving forward.

  Trust me, she repeated to herself, finally understanding where the discomfort had come from. She’d questioned Him, wondered if He’d forgotten her. She couldn’t expect to have joy if she wasn’t looking for the path He had created for her.

  I can do that.

  Brother Parker went to the side of the window and began pulling the blinds shut. Just as Chrissy felt like maybe she should apologize to them for her watching, the phone began ringing in the house and spared her further consideration. She hurried inside, the warmth of her home a sharp reminder of how cold it really was outside. Who would be calling her? She glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was after ten. Would Micah call her this late?

  “Hello?” she said when she picked it up on the third ring.

  “Chrissy,” Rosa said, her small voice shaking. “I’m scared to be alone.”

  Chrissy hesitated a moment, but a warmth coursed through her, reminding her of what she’d just been told. She was exactly where she was supposed to be. She turned her thoughts to her blessings, to all the good things she had in her life, and felt even more peace make its way into her mind. “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter 7

  Tony’s phone rang at almost midnight, an answer to the message he’d left earlier. He was feeling rather smug about all he’d accomplished and looked forward to sharing his good news—the information he’d found through a basic online background search, looking through some public records, and going through the woman’s mail.

  “What do you have for me?” the faceless voice asked.

  “She’s got a house. Based on how much she owes and how much other homes in the area are selling for, I’d guess she’s got at least fifty thousand in equity. She doesn’t have a car loan, her credit is good, she’s got very little debt, and she’s single.”

  The voice on the other end was silent, and for a moment Tony thought they’d tell him they didn’t need the workup anymore. He held his breath. He’d worked so hard on this ID, and she was a perfect target. If it was all for nothing . . .

  “Docs?”

  “I’ve already ordered a replacement license, and I’ve got a birth certificate.” It had taken a rather complex story about his girlfriend being in the hospital and needing an official copy for the lawsuit against the trucking company that had hit her before someone finally gave him a copy. Lucky for him he had a face people trusted.

  “How soon can you get them to me?”

  He calculated. Tomorrow was Friday. The weekend would slow him down. “I could overnight the stuff I already have tomorrow morning, but the rest of it will take about a week.”

  “I’ll forward you half the amount we agreed on as soon as I get the first mailing.”

  Tony’s mood became even brighter. He thought about how easy it had been to intercept her mail. What were the chances she also locked all her doors and windows when she went to work? A checkbook, an old bank statement, maybe even pin numbers if she was like ninety percent of the population and kept them written down within a few feet of their computer. “You won’t be disappointed,” he assured his cont
act. This was a slam dunk. Maybe his focus on the drug trade was putting priority on the wrong profession. ID peddling was a much hotter business than he’d thought.

  Chapter 8

  Idaho Falls, Idaho

  Wednesday, March 12

  Hi, my name is Linda. Please note this call is being monitored for training purposes. How may I help you?”

  “Yes, hi, this is Chrissy Salazar,” she said, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she shuffled files into alphabetical order on her desk. Chrissy had been meaning to make this call for two days but kept leaving the bill at home. Finally, she was getting around to it. “I’ve got a question about my bill.”

  “Do you have your account number?”

  Chrissy read off the number, listening to Linda’s fingers click across the keyboard as she entered it in.

  “Can you verify your address, please?” Linda asked.

  Chrissy rolled her eyes at the ridiculous hoops she had to jump through—she’d already gone through an automated menu before talking to Don who had forwarded her to Linda. “Five-four-six Evelyn Street, Idaho Falls, Idaho.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Salazar, how can I help you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve just received my March gas bill and I’m wondering if I can get the late fee taken off since I never got a February statement.”

  More clicking. “Our records show that your statement was mailed on February eighteenth. Are you sure you didn’t receive it?”

  “I’m sure,” Chrissy said with a nod. She wasn’t nearly as organized at home as she was at the office, but she’d made note of the fact that she’d never seen her gas bill—then forgotten to call about it until receiving the new one complete with two months worth of charges and a late fee.

  She finished alphabetizing the files and moved them to the other side of her desk in order to concentrate on the call. Brandon, Kent’s son and soon-to-be successor to the business, came out of his office and winked at her. She looked away and told herself he didn’t mean anything by it.

  “If I had received it, I’d have paid it, and you can see from my history that I always pay and I’m always on time. I never received the statement. Therefore it didn’t get paid.”

  “So you’re not claiming to have sent payment that wasn’t received?”

  “No,” Chrissy said, realizing this was the weak spot in her argument. If she hadn’t received her statement, she should have called and requested another one. “I just never received the statement. You’re certain your records show it was sent out?” Then again they only had two bazillion accounts, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume one went astray now and again.

  “According to our records it went out,” Linda said. “But hold just a moment while I check something.”

  Chrissy agreed and straightened her desk while she waited for Linda to get back on the line. Brandon returned to his office but he kept the door open and moved his chair so that he could make a phone call and watch Chrissy through the open door. What was his problem? He’d always been kind of flirty, but over the last few months he’d moved to flat-out creepy. She turned in her chair so her back was facing him and wondered if she could work here once Kent left for good.

  “Ms. Salazar?” Linda asked.

  “Yes,” Chrissy said. “I’m here.”

  “I spoke with my manager and he agreed that due to your excellent history with us, he would waive the late fee this one time. However, in the future should you not receive a statement be sure to let us know before the next billing cycle.”

  “I sure will,” Chrissy said with a smile. “Thank you very much.”

  She hung up and let out a breath of satisfaction. She looked at the situation as if she’d made fifteen dollars in less than five minutes—not bad.

  Chapter 9

  Idaho Falls, Idaho

  Thanks, Dad,” Blake said as he put his new track shoes on the checkout counter.

  “You’re welcome,” Micah said, but as soon as Blake turned away, his smile fell. Eighty bucks for running shoes? It was highway robbery, but Blake had wanted the hundred-and-twenty-dollar shoes. At least Micah had talked him down from those.

  “Track?” the clerk asked. Micah looked up at the flirty tone in the woman’s voice. Or rather the girl. About seventeen, she had her eyes on Blake as she scanned the bar code on the box. Micah stood behind his son, and saw Blake’s neck go pink—just like Micah’s likely would have should the clerk have been twenty years older and looking at him that way. However, that kind of thing didn’t happen to him very often, and it was just starting to happen to his athletic, tall, good-looking son. Micah hid a smile and nudged Blake with his elbow so he’d speak.

  “Uh, yeah,” he stammered as Micah pulled his debit card out of his wallet. “I, uh, run the four hundred and the sixteen-hundred relay. I’m really fast.”

  Micah pinched his lips together to keep from chuckling, but the girl seemed very impressed. Ah, the innocence of youth, Micah thought. When you didn’t even know what baggage was let alone have any. He and Natalie had started dating when he was Blake’s age. Neither one of them ever imagined how things would end up.

  “Where do you go to school?” the girl asked.

  “Skyline.”

  Her face took on a slight pout. “Oh, I go to Idaho Falls High. But maybe I’ll see you at one of the meets.” She smiled brightly, and Blake nodded like the starry-eyed, sixteen-year-old boy he was. Micah nudged him forward again so he could run his card through the machine bolted to the countertop.

  “Do you run track?” Blake asked.

  “No, but I have a friend who does. She runs the eight hundred.”

  The register beeped, and the girl had to tear her eyes away from Blake to find out why. She looked instantly uncomfortable. “It says the card is denied.”

  Micah furrowed his brow. “I’ll try it again. Maybe I did the wrong pin.” He scanned it again and this time, they all watched. After about ten seconds, it beeped, and the word “Denied” showed up on the little screen. It was Micah’s debit card, tied to his checking account, into which he’d just deposited two loans’ worth of commissions last week.

  “Um, maybe you have another card?” the clerk asked.

  “Yeah,” Micah said. He pulled it out and ran it through the machine, watching the screen. When “Denied” came up again he felt his face getting hot. He looked up at the girl. “Are you sure there isn’t something wrong with your machine?”

  “Um, it worked on the last lady who used a card.” She started looking around, saw someone at the other end of the bank of cash registers, and called him over.

  “I’m Paul, the manager. Can I help?”

  Micah explained the situation as the guy behind them in line let out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest. Believe me, buddy, Micah thought. I’m the last person who wants this.

  “Is the credit card off the same account as the debit card?” the manager asked.

  “Well, yeah, but the credit line is separate from the debit.”

  “If there’s a problem with your overall account, often none of the cards will work.”

  “But there isn’t a problem with my account,” Micah said, his words clipped. Blake had walked a few feet away. He shifted from one foot to another and looked around as if not wanting anyone to know he was with the guy getting all irate at the check stand. Seeing Blake’s embarrassment was even more humiliating to Micah.

  “Okay,” Micah said, calming down and trying not to let his head run away from him. “I’ll write a check.”

  “We do electronic check filing, so if there’s a problem with your account a check won’t go through either. I’m afraid we’ll need another card or cash.”

  “I don’t have any cash,” he said. And though he had other cards, he kept them at home—it wasn’t safe to carry too many at one time.

  Paul made an uncomfortable face and shrugged before turning to the young clerk, who also looked uncomfortable. Blake had backed up until he was almost ou
t the door.

  “Laura,” Paul said. “Let’s hold on to these for twenty-four hours.” He turned back to Micah. “Just let the clerk know when you come back.”

  Laura smiled as if trying to tell him it was okay. Who was he that he needed some teenager to reassure him? Micah nodded tightly and hurried from the store. Blake was quick to lead the way.

  They drove home in silence. Micah went straight to his office and logged onto his credit union’s web site. The moment the account came into view, he inhaled sharply at the balances. Blake called to him from the kitchen.

  “Hey, Dad, there’s a message on your voice mail from the bank. They said there are some charges they’d like you to verify. What’s the deal?”

  Chapter 10

  Antigua, Guatemala

  If she had been born a son, this would not be her fate. She’d be staying with the soldiers, fighting, and furthering the cause of freedom as her brothers did. She would be a warrior. But fate had made her a woman, a creature of limitations.

  She turned her face toward the rain falling in the Antigua jungle, wanting to remember the smell of it, the feel of it on her skin. It would be a long time before she would feel it again. She didn’t imagine that rain in America was anything like this.

  “¿Estás lista?” her father asked from behind her—Are you ready?

  “Sí,” she said, inclining her head to show both her respect to him as her father and her subservience to him as her leader.

  He continued in Spanish. “You will wait for your new identifications in Mexico City. Frederico is making all the arrangements.”

  She nodded again and hoped her father didn’t notice how her body stiffened at the sound of her husband’s name. Frederico, the father of the child she was carrying—a man she barely knew.

  She focused her attention on the chaos around them as the men broke camp. They moved as if the sky were clear, pulling up tents, wrapping supplies in banana leaves and loading them into the back of the trucks. The government army had been tipped off to their location, and even though the People’s Army for Freedom had only been camped a few weeks, it was time to move. It was a natural time for her to begin her own journey as well.