by Becky Melby
“Not long ago a man about my age, thin, bald, unhealthy in appearance, came to me and confessed a grievous sin.” The man stroked his goatee. “His employer had caught him in the act of dipping his hand into the till. In a panic, to cover his sin, he committed a far more grievous one. He killed the man.”
Gasps echoed off the domed ceiling.
“The guilt, the burden of his conscience, was eating him alive.” The preacher stepped to the edge of the platform. “This is the part I want you to hear, dear ones. The man is my age, in his sixties. He had committed the crime that robbed him of sleep and health…when he was nineteen.”
A sharp, silent inhale brought Francie’s hand to her mouth. Perspiration dampened her upper lip. He knows. He knows what I’ve done. And what I’m about to do.
Heat rose to her cheeks. She thought of the diagrams on Mr. Walbrecht’s desk. The ones she’d so carefully described to Tag. The details she’d coaxed from him. The facts his mother had too willingly shared as Francie measured her for another gown. A sob shook her shoulders. Mrs. Hollanddale slipped a handkerchief into her hand.
“I pray you have not experienced anything like this man, but this I know, if you have not given the burdens of your past to Jesus Christ, there is something. Something that you carry. Something that is chasing you like a gale force wind.”
Francie closed her eyes. She wanted to cover her ears. Her head felt light. Her fingers tingled.
“But there is hope. There is freedom. There is a hiding place. I handed this book to that man with the conscience so heavy he could carry it no more. I walked him through the truths about Jesus and asked if he believed what was in it. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, ‘I believe it all.’ And do you, I asked, believe that Jesus Christ is the only Son of God and that He gave His life as a payment for your sins? ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I believe.’”
The preacher paused, walked from one end of the platform to the other. “I told him then to read these words from the book of Isaiah—‘And the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.’ And then I said, ‘Friend, where is your sin?’” He stopped pacing and pointed. Again, Francie felt the finger aimed directly at her.
“‘It is on Jesus Christ!’ he cried. ‘My sin is on Jesus, and I am free.’ Dear ones, Jesus Christ is the only answer to a heavy conscience. He is your refuge in the storm. Who will come to this hiding place tonight?” His gaze swept the crowd. “Will you?”
CHAPTER 27
Nicky steadied his breathing and pulled away, breaking the circle of her arms. Tears dampened her lashes. His fingers submerged in her hair. “When I saw you…that night in the car…with your head leaning against the window…”
Dani inhaled, sharp and raspy.
“I didn’t get close enough to really see. I just went nuts. The whole thing with Tony played back. It was so real. I couldn’t look. I called Todd and told him some kid had stolen Vito’s car, and somebody’d knocked him off outside the restaurant. Finding out you were just sleeping made me feel stupid, but seeing you were a girl made me crazier than ever. I’m sorry I went off on you like that.”
She skimmed his face with a soft hand. “Your reaction makes sense. And you were right. It’s not a safe place.”
“I look at Rena, and I think of Tony.”
“And she doesn’t see it as protectiveness.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Everything my cousin was doing was good. All for God, and he’s dead. What chance does Rena have if she’s playing with the devil? I found her lip-locked with that guy she calls her boyfriend, and I got so mad it made me scared of what I was capable of.”
“Does your father try to control her at all?”
“Not like he should. He’s too scared to clamp down, afraid he’ll lose her.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. “I haven’t told him the latest. Maybe finding out how deep she’s in would be a wake-up call.”
“Where is God in all of this?”
He knew what she meant. It wasn’t rhetorical and she didn’t need an answer. She wanted to know where his head was—if he viewed God as sovereign, in control of the good and the bad, including Tony’s death. Nicky raised his right shoulder. “We really need to lighten things.”
At the outside corner of one eye, a tiny muscle jumped—the only indication his failure to engage had affected her.
“Is that why you hate reporters? Did they swarm after your cousin was killed?”
“Swarm. Yeah. Like bees on a hive. For two weeks I didn’t leave the restaurant. Didn’t even go into the dining room. You guys are masters at disguise.”
Dani seemed to cringe at his choice of words.
“A waitress would tell me someone wanted to compliment the chef, so I’d walk out to a nicely dressed, hand-holding couple and bam! they’d turn into piranhas. ‘What did you think when you saw your cousin shot in the head? How do you feel about the person who did it? What will you say to him if he’s apprehended?’”
“And was—” She looked away. He could practically see the pressure building in her head, but she let it drop. “Let’s eat pizza and think up questions to ask your grandfather.”
“You and your questions.” He slid his fingers deeper into her hair and leaned toward her lips. “I might be changing my opinion on reporters. At least one of them.”
An hour later, as Nicky drove out of the park, the feel of another kiss still lingered on her lips. She was supposed to be reading, but for a moment she wanted to stay in the make-believe bubble where happily-ever-afters were the law of the land—where a guy like Nicky could care for a girl like her—even after he found out her new address. With a sigh, she went back to reading.
“‘I lie awake at night and think of ways to escape with Franky. I imagine him at home on the farm, flying into the creek from my old rope swing or sledding on the hill. I see him sitting in church next to his grandma. Mama would spoil him so. All this is simply dreaming. Mama and Daddy have not answered my letters. I think they have disowned us all.’”
Dani tapped a fist to her sternum. “How can parents be like that?”
“Good question. I have no answer. Is there anything happy in this girl’s life?”
“Here. ‘I had brunch with Mrs. Hollenddale at the Palmer House again. I won—’”
“Did you know the brownie was invented at the Palmer House?”
“No. I didn’t know that vital little tidbit.”
“They put an apricot glaze on it.”
“That sounds awful.” She wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to the diary.
“‘I wonder what people would say if they knew that the girl with the stylish bob and classy new hat eating off china plates under chandeliers dripping with crystals had been milking cows just a few years ago.’”
“The Palmer is the oldest continually running hotel in history.”
“Is this boring you, Mr. Trivia?”
“A little. Skip to the good stuff. When do they hold up the jewelry store?”
“Men. Okay. Give me a minute.” She turned several pages. “‘T took me dancing last night. It was nice. Just the two of us with no agenda.’”
“She is one messed up girl.”
“No more confused than some present-day teens I know.”
“Yeah.” His cheeks bowed with a heavy sigh. “I still keep wondering if that book dropped into your hands right now because there’s an answer in it for Rena.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“What? You think I don’t believe things happen for a reason? God is in control, okay? Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear me say? I maybe believe that more than you do. God is God, and He can do whatever He wants to do.” He rapped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “And there’s not a thing we can do about it.”
As Nicky turned left, Dani took one last look at sunlight dancing on the lake. “I believe from personal experience that God answers our prayers, and there’s certainly evidence in the Bible to support that, but what if He didn’
t?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if He planned every detail eons before we were born?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Think of what you know to be true about the character of God. What’s the first thing you learned about Him when you were a kid?”
“God is love.” His sing-songy tone broadcast his irritation.
“If that’s true, then why do we need input?”
His lips parted. He glanced at her then back at the road. She waited for a comment or a nod, but Nicky stared straight ahead in silence.
She turned the page, skimmed through two weeks of dreams and fashion sketches and cute things Franky said before a two-line entry grabbed her. She looked at Nicky. “‘March 23, 1927. I’m finally getting a clue about why I’m working here. T wants me to cozy up to Mr. W so I can get a promotion. I can’t do that. He’s a nice man with a nice wife, and he’s three times my age. But I have my ways to get what T wants.’”
“The plot finally thickens.”
Dani groaned. “This poor girl. What does T want her to get from the old man? Money? Jewels?”
“The combination to the safe is more like it. Or her own key.”
“Promise me we’re going to finish this today. If we don’t, I’m skipping to the end.”
Nicky wagged a finger in front of her face. “Rules is rules. I promise we’ll finish tonight. Nonno starts to get cranky after just a few minutes, so we won’t be there long. I don’t have to start baking until midnight. You can follow me back, and we can read right into tomorrow.”
“Sleep is a zero.”
“Exactly.”
“Where are we going anyway?”
“Dessert.”
By the time they parked at a coffee shop on East Brady, Francie had been promoted to “Mr. W’s” personal secretary.
The waitress brought their pie and coffee, and Dani opened to July 1927. “‘Had lunch with Doris today. She told me people are calling me Little Orphan Annie. She asked if the rumors were true. I laughed. It was easy to laugh because the rumors aren’t true. Mr. W is not like that, and I feel so bad I’m tarnishing his reputation. What are people saying to his wife?’”
Nicky snickered. “Forgive me for saying anything bad about our Francie, but she’s probably going to rob the guy blind, and yet what bothers her is tarnishing his reputation.”
“He’s got a gob of money. Only one rep.”
Nicky rolled his eyes. “Read.”
“‘I’ve decided that every day I have to write at least one happy thing. Happy thing for today: Franky said, “When I grow up I’m going to be a pirate and only have one eye and one leg and hunt for buried treasure.’”
“That’s all very cute, but could we skip the happy thoughts?”
“Curmudgeon. One more. ‘My happy thought for today is the emerald on my right hand. T buys me jewelry but never rings. This morning there was a little box with a big gold bow on my desk. The card read, “To my Right Hand Girl.” Mr. W was so pleased when I danced around the office with it. He has a nice smile.’”
Nicky cleared his throat with a machine gun sound. “I’m sorry. I know you want to think the best of her, but she’s pathetic. First she falls for the gangster who’s blackmailing her, then it’s the old married boss.”
“She’s not falling for her boss. All she said is he’s got a nice smile.”
“That’s how it all starts.”
“She is not going to fall for this guy.”
“If she isn’t ga-ga over Daddy Warbucks by the last page, I’ll cook a seven course meal just for you.”
“Deal.”
“Not so fast. What do I get if I’m right?”
“A big head. Okay, you don’t want me cooking for you. I’ll write a glowing piece about Bracciano. New customers will flock to you.”
“I like that. Maybe you’d better let me read for a while.”
“And let you rewrite…reread history? Nevuh.” She scanned the next few pages then picked one. “‘I dreamed I was walking over the hills back home holding Theo’s hand. Earl Hagen caught up with us in a Model T and leaned out the window yelling, “You are nothing, Francine Tillman. Your father is a bootlegger, and you are nothing.” I dropped Theo’s hand and ran. Theo called after me. He told me to stop. I wanted him to catch up with me, but he never did.’”
You are nothing. Francie’s dream resurrected a dialogue Dani had overheard between her parents the year after her mission trip to Haiti. She’d stuck to her vow that year. By riding her bicycle, taking her lunch to school, and buying her school wardrobe at garage sales, she’d been able to donate most of her clothes and entertainment allowance to charity. She was ready to step through the door if God opened it for her. And then the letter from the mission board came in the mail.
“Dani needs this, Deborah. It’s what she’s called to do.”
“Quit the melodrama, Gary. What she needs is a normal life. She needs to go off to school and meet boys and be a normal eighteen-year-old girl.”
“But she’s not normal. Thank God she’s not normal. She cares about people. She wants to make a difference in the world. She wants to be involved with something vital. A mission, a purpose, something bigger than herself.”
Her mother’s laugh ricocheted in her head. “So you’d give her your blessing to skip college and go straight to being a nobody in a filthy hut in some God-forsaken country exposed to every disease known to man?”
“If it’s what she’s called to do, yes.” Chair legs scraped the floor. The door handle turned. “But my daughter will never be a nobody.”
“Dani? You still with me? Yoo-hoo. Are you walking the hills with Theo?”
Nicky’s words bounced on the edge of long-buried memory. She blinked as if coming out of anesthesia. “Sorry.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She pushed her untouched pecan pie toward him. “No.” Arms planted on the table as if to stabilize herself, she told him about Haiti and the conversation between her parents.
Nicky’s forearms paralleled hers. Tan, muscled arms created a fortress. The slightest smile gentled the planes of his face. “All those years I was longing for a mother to help direct my future, and here you were wishing yours would keep her opinions to herself.” His hands conformed to her elbows. “It’s not too late to follow those dreams.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Says the man who wants to open his own restaurant.”
“Touché. What a couple of losers. We were meant to meet so we could be miserable and unfulfilled together.”
“You’re probably right.” She hid a smile behind splayed fingers and lingered on a mournful sigh. As she played along, the cloud of bitter memories evaporated into the steam from her coffee, leaving a rain-washed feeling. “I’ll feel sorry for you if you feel sorry for me.”
His hand rose to her cheek. His fingertip trailed along her jawline then glided up to trace her lips. “Poor baby.” She closed her eyes. His butterfly-light caress slid along the other side of her face. “Poor, pretty baby. I could just sit here feeling sorry for you for the rest of my life.” His fingertip skimmed down to her chin, Slowly, gently, he lifted. “But I’d rather do this.”
Warm lips. A hint of caramel, a touch of cinnamon. A kiss more delectable than apple pie. Eyes still closed, she sighed as he pulled away. “Mmm.”
A soft laugh tickled her cheek. “I suppose, while we’re wallowing in unfulfilled dreams, it wouldn’t hurt to pray.”
Her eyes shot open.
“I do know how, you know.”
“I…”
“Shh.” His finger returned to her lips. “Close your eyes.”
She obeyed.
“Lord God, You know the cry of Dani’s heart is to make a difference for You, and You know the dreams I’ve tried to ignore. Right now, we bring our dreams and lay them at Your feet, trusting You will put in us the desires of Your heart.”
He fell silent. Dani opened her
eyes and whispered “Amen” through her tears.
CHAPTER 28
Nicky turned the page with one hand. His other arm was occupied with holding Dani close to his chest. The waitress set a second pot of coffee on the table. He’d switched to decaf three cups ago. He rested his cheek against Dani’s hair and skimmed through several weeks of happy thoughts and dress designs. He stopped when a familiar name jumped off the page. “Here we go.”
Dani looked down at the spot he pointed to and sat up straight. “Finally.”
“‘I’m moving. I say the words, but it feels like someone else is talking. I will live in an upstairs apartment across the street from Bracciano, the restaurant where I will work.’” He looked up. “So she lived—”
“In m—where China and Miguel lived.” Dani rubbed her arms. “China must have found her diary somewhere in the house.”
Shaking his head, he bent over the book. “‘T took me up to meet the people who own the restaurant. I like Renata, the wife. She is just a little older than me and has the sweetest little boy, but her husband scares me. He is nice and funny, but he looks at me like I’m wearing a FOR SALE sign.’”
Nicky smacked his lips. “Way to welcome the new girl, Great Grampa Santo. I’m so proud of my heritage.”
“You inherited all the good parts. The flirt without the sleaze.”
He laughed—something that was beginning to feel natural. “I try. I’ve made it a life goal to never look at a girl like she’s wearing a FOR SALE sign.”
Dani answered with a soft laugh.
“‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be there. I don’t know if this is a cover or if T is hiding me there to keep me safe. I want to take Suze and Franky. I didn’t bother to ask. T would never allow it. His threats to Franky form my prison walls. No one needs to watch me. I might as well be chained in a medieval stone tower.’”
Nicky rolled his eyes. “Quite the little drama queen, isn’t she?”
“She has every right to be. Read.” She nudged the book closer to Nicky.
