A Scarlet Cord

by Deborah Raney

  Over the next few days, Joel went through the motions. He showed up at school each day and walked back to his apartment each night. He rarely left the house otherwise. And if he slept, he dreamed of flames and gunshots, of Victoria’s tears and Melanie’s. Waking or sleeping, his mind conjured menacing images and bizarre scenarios that had no basis in any real threat. He was out. He was free. Why couldn’t he get his subconscious mind to believe that? Why did he so often wake to his own hot teardrops seeping from under swollen eyelids?

  He could not seem to shake the sense that he was still a hunted man. He felt as though he’d been left defenseless in the middle of a jungle, abandoned without any means of security or protection. Over the preceding months, knowing that his identity was protected, hidden within the Witness Security Program, he had come to feel relatively safe here in his New York apartment and in his classroom. Now, though nothing had changed—except on paper—he felt vulnerable everywhere he went. Reason told him that a common street thug presented more peril to him now than the people who had threatened him before. But the dreams persisted.

  Four days after Toliver and Denton’s visit, Joel climbed out of bed, still shuffling the disjointed thoughts and fears in his mind and finding no place to lay them down. He had to get out of here … out of the house. After a quick shower, he pulled on khakis and a denim shirt. He was determined to face his fears, to go out into the city where he felt most vulnerable.

  The sun was bright, reflecting off morning dew that frosted brown and grey patches of grass and concrete. The sidewalk was slippery in places, and Joel slowed his pace.

  He walked aimlessly, block after block, until his gaze was drawn to the spire of a chapel rising into the blue-grey winter sky a few blocks ahead. Strangely, but undeniably, he felt drawn there. He had not attended church since he’d left Silver Creek. Oh, he had lived out the morals of his faith. He’d tried to keep himself from sin—though he knew in his heart that this overwhelming fear was sin. But he had also tried to pray—and felt nothing, heard nothing in reply. Now, strangely, the cathedral drew him like steel to a magnet.

  It was Sunday morning, a day that had become like any other over the past months. He climbed the wide, shallow concrete steps and entered the building. The foyer was empty, but a cappella music drifted through open doors on either side of him.

  He straightened his coat and walked inside. The sanctuary was massive. A few dozen worshipers filled the front pews. Joel slid unseen into a pew many rows behind the others. The melody filtered from the choir loft above him. He closed his eyes and listened, allowing the music to soothe him.

  The choir chanted the words in Latin, but then the lyrics changed to English, and the words of the song pierced his heart. Soft, stringed instruments joined the chorale, and the haunting harmonies rose on a crescendo of soprano and alto voices that wove themselves skillfully around one another as the choir echoed the beautiful words from the Psalms in a round.

  “You are my hiding place … when I am afraid, I will trust in you.”

  He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in fear and anger and disbelief.

  “You are my hiding place.”

  The melody played on, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by a thought—one that burst so clearly that the knowledge of its truth seemed to have always been a part of him. His freedom and safety had never had anything to do with his physical circumstances. Instead, they had always depended on whether he was trusting God with every detail of his life.

  He was finally, truly free to live as God intended him to. Not just free from fear, or free from threat of the evil in the world—because there would always be that. But his heart had been set free, and there was genuine liberty in the knowledge.

  As though the words of the psalm had come true in his own heart at that very moment, Joel was flooded with peace. He finally understood that his life was hidden in Christ’s. Death itself could not change that.

  The music faded away, and the minister rose to speak. But the eloquent words droned beyond Joel, a mere background to his thoughts.

  He thought of his parents. He wasn’t sure he would ever understand why God had taken them from him at a time when he still needed them so profoundly. It didn’t seem fair, and it didn’t make sense that God would allow the deaths of people who were working so sincerely for his cause.

  And Victoria. She had been as close to a saint as one could be on this earth. Of all those in the restaurant the night of the Sartoni murder, she was the most innocent. Yet she had lost her life because of another man’s evil.

  None of it made sense. And yet the peace remained. Somehow he no longer needed to understand. What he did understand was that this evil world was like a vapor. In an instant he could be wiped from existence. And what mattered then?

  He knew that his parents and Tori had known the answer. Each of them had understood that this life was over in a blink of an eye, whether one lived ten years or a hundred. But there was a life far more precious after this one. That was where they had stored their treasures. That was where they had placed their hopes. He knew now that it was where his own hope lay as well.

  Melanie came to his mind, and he felt not the seething anger he half expected because he’d lost her—only a deep regret, and a sadness that his freedom had come too late for her to share in it.

  Twenty-Eight

  Sunday morning, Melanie and Jerica went to church with Matthew and Karly. After lunch Melanie volunteered to make a run to the grocery store. She went through the motions, filling a cart with the food and toiletries from Karly’s list, but her thoughts were far from her task. She had lived in a peculiar haze of anticipation and dread since the day she’d promised Matthew that she would wait for him to seek out information on Joel. She knew her brother was preoccupied with Karly’s imminent delivery. But she wished he would do something. This limbo of not knowing was driving her mad.

  She paid for the groceries and started back to the Masons’ house. When she pulled into the drive and walked through the garage door, Matthew and Karly were headed out the same door.

  “Her water broke and her contractions are only five minutes apart,” Matt told her. His voice held a quaver Melanie had never heard before.

  “Oh, Matt! I can’t believe my timing! Why didn’t you call me? I had my cell phone.”

  “It just started fifteen minutes ago,” Karly said, as Matt loaded her bags into the car.

  Matt went back into the house, and Melanie helped Karly into the passenger seat and pulled the seat belt around her. “I’ll be praying for you, sweetie.”

  “Thanks, Mel.” She grimaced and gripped the dashboard. “Tell Matt he’d better hurry.”

  Melanie ran into the kitchen. Matt dismissed the neighbor woman who’d come to watch the boys, and began a litany of instructions about the boys and the pets and the house.

  “Just go. Go!” Melanie said, giving him a playful shove. “Between the kids and me, I think we can figure it out.”

  Matthew kissed each of his sons and Jerica, and ran to the car where Karly was waiting. Melanie and the children followed him and stood in a knot in the garage watching until the car disappeared around the corner.

  “Okay, guys,” Melanie said, herding the little boys and Jerica back into the kitchen. “Anybody hungry?”

  “Is our mommy gonna be okay?” five-year-old Jace asked, a worried frown creasing his freckle-strewn forehead.

  “Oh, honey. She’ll be fine. Before you know it, she’ll be home with a brand-new brother or sister for you guys to play with.”

  “I hope it’s a girl. I already got a brother,” seven-year-old Brock declared.

  “Yeah,” Jace echoed his big brother. “It just gots to be a sister.”

  “Well, sister or brother, you’ll love this baby all the same,” she told them.

  “Is Jerica gonna get a new baby, too?” Jace wanted to know.

  Melanie could feel Jerica’s eyes on her, waiting for her answer. She tried to keep her tone l
ight. “Oh … I don’t know. Maybe someday, buddy. Now what about that snack? Let’s make something really creative.”

  “Cool,” Brock declared.

  She parked the three of them on barstools at the kitchen counter, and they told her which cupboards held the ingredients for peanut butter and crackers and banana slices.

  Melanie spent the evening doting on her nephews and enjoying their interaction with Jerica. She was amazed at how vastly different two rambunctious boys were from one little girl—even one as energetic as Jerica.

  Melanie scarcely had a moment to think until the kids were tucked in for the night. Just after nine o’clock, Matthew called to announce that Karly had delivered a healthy seven-pound boy named Parker.

  “Mother and baby are both doing fine,” he announced proudly.

  “Oh, Matt, I’m so happy for you,” Melanie rejoiced with her brother. “But you better be here in the morning,” she joked. “I’m not sure how you’re going to break the news to the boys. They had their hearts set on a sister.”

  “They’ll get used to the idea,” Matt told her with a chuckle. “Just wait till they meet this little guy.” The pride in her brother’s voice brought a lump to Melanie’s throat.

  The next days were full of activity. Karly and the baby came home, and no one in the house got much sleep after that. Little Parker seemed perfectly content to sleep all day long, but when night fell, he was ready for action.

  Melanie relished caring for the baby and watching Jerica’s joy over little Parker. The possibility that her daughter might never know the joy of welcoming a new brother or sister home from the hospital filled Melanie with sadness. Yet she was grateful that Jerica could enjoy this time with her cousins. Jerica seemed to feel right at home here. She and the boys spent sunup to sundown playing in one yard or another in the Masons’ close-knit neighborhood.

  The following Thursday, during the quiet of morning, Melanie and her brother were eating breakfast at the kitchen table while Karly nursed the baby in the rocking chair across the room. The boys and Jerica hadn’t yet crawled out of bed.

  “Mel, I … There’s something I wanted to tell you.” It was obvious that Matt was trying to sound casual, but the self-conscious way he cleared his throat gave her a hint that something important was coming.

  “What?” she asked. “What is it?”

  “I’ve had some news … about Joel.” He glanced toward her, but seemed to be making an effort to avoid her eyes.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “What is it?” she repeated, her heart pounding.

  “The sheriff called from Franklin County yesterday.”

  “Franklin County, Missouri?”

  He nodded. “There’s been an ongoing investigation, and they’ve located Joel living in New York. It sounds like … Well, it sounds like they’ll be bringing him in for questioning.”

  “What!” she exploded. “They’re going to arrest Joel? Oh, Matt! Why didn’t you tell me? Where is he?”

  “Shhh,” he reprimanded, looking down the hallway where the children slept. “It doesn’t mean they’re going to arrest him. They just want to question him.”

  “But, Matthew, they don’t have proof Joel took the money … They couldn’t!”

  “What more proof could you possibly need, Melanie? A man disappears from sight, and two months later fifteen thousand is missing from an account that he was supposed to have made deposits to? You’re in denial if you think this man isn’t guilty as sin!” Now Matthew was practically shouting.

  For a moment she sat in stunned silence. Then the reality of what her brother had told her began to soak in. “I can’t believe this,” she moaned. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you at least let me talk to him first?”

  “Melanie, you act like I’m personally arresting Joel. I’m just reporting what I found out.”

  “But you never did believe me all the times I tried to tell you Joel was innocent. It’s as though you want him to be guilty … you want him to get caught.”

  Matt leveled his gaze at her. “Maybe I do, Melanie. Maybe then you would get over this and get on with your life.”

  She pushed her chair away from the table and ran out through the French doors that led to the deck off the kitchen. She plopped into a cushioned lawn chair and sat there, too angry for tears yet feeling guilty at her outburst.

  She heard Matthew rustling about in the kitchen, rinsing dishes. He knew her well enough to leave her alone for a while. After a few minutes, he poked his head out the door. “I have to catch the bus, Mel. I … I’m sorry. We’ll talk tonight, okay?”

  She merely nodded. He started to say something, then apparently thought better of it and lifted a hand in a halfhearted farewell.

  A few minutes later Karly came out onto the deck and sat down beside her. Karly reached out and put a hand on Melanie’s arm. “Mel,” she said quietly, “You know Matt’s just trying to help. He only wants what’s best for you. He’s worried about you. We both are.”

  “I know … I know that. But why can’t you and Matt support me in this? You’re treating me as if I’m crazy. Why can’t you trust my judgment? I know Joel. If he did take that money, he had a good reason. And I know he loved me—and Jerica. I saw his face. I don’t think I was imagining that there are still feelings there for me. Oh, Karly, I still miss him so much. Sometimes I just want to walk out that door and go up and down streets until I find him.”

  “Mel … we’ve talked about this before. I know it’s hard, but you might have no choice but to accept that you will probably never know why this happened. I wish I could tell you—” She turned her head abruptly. “Jerica! Good morning, sweetie.” Karly cut a quick warning glance back at Melanie. “Are you ready for some breakfast, Jer?”

  Jerica stood at the door, already dressed. Her forehead was furrowed, and her eyes held a wounded glaze.

  Melanie turned away quickly and scrubbed at the tears that dampened her cheeks. She faked a cheery smile and faced her daughter with an outstretched hand. “Hi, sweetie. I didn’t know you were up.” How long had Jerica been standing there? Melanie looked to Karly, who was obviously wondering the same thing. But she only frowned and shrugged.

  “Mommy?”

  “What’s wrong, punkin?”

  Jerica’s gaze seemed to pierce through her, and she studied Melanie with an intensity far beyond her years. But quickly her expression changed, and she was a little girl again. “Can I play in the Goldsteins’ yard with Brock and Jace?”

  “Don’t you want some breakfast first?”

  “We already had Pop-Tarts.”

  “Oh. Well … Is that okay?” Melanie deferred to Karly.

  “Sure. It’s just two houses down,” Karly told her. She turned to Jerica. “Just tell the boys to make sure it’s okay with Tad’s mom first, okay?”

  Jerica nodded soberly.

  “You stay with the boys, okay?” Melanie said. “And if you want to come home you ask Brock to walk with you. Don’t come back by yourself.”

  “Okay.”

  Brock stuck his head through the open door. “C’mon, Jerica. Hurry up. Tad’s waiting for us.”

  She started through the door, then stopped and cocked her head in her cousin’s direction. “Does Tad have a dog?”

  “No, dummy. C’mon!”

  “Brock!” Karly chided. “You do not speak to Jerica like—”

  “Sorry.”

  Jerica shrugged him off.

  “Hurry up!” Jace’s voice echoed from just inside the door.

  “Okay, but wait a minute,” Jerica told her cousins. “I gotta get something first. Bye, Mommy.”

  “You be good,” Melanie called after her. Her words were drowned in the slam of the door as Jerica followed her cousins into the house.

  “Is she still afraid of dogs?” Karly asked.

  “Terrified. Except for Erika’s little Biscuit. She tolerates him.” Melanie was preoccupied, remembering Jerica’s bewildered look. What had they been
talking about when she came out to the deck? She frowned. “Karly, how long do you think Jerica was standing there? Do you think she heard us?”

  Karly shook her head and cringed. “I don’t know. I didn’t even see her come outside. But I think she was okay, don’t you? Maybe she was just worried about the dog situation.”

  “I hope that’s all it was,” Melanie sighed. Still, Jerica’s distressed expression wouldn’t leave her. “Oh, Karly, I’m so tired of this.” She bit her lip and pounded a fist impotently on the upholstered deck chair. “I’m so sick and tired of this whole thing. Matt is right. It’s been a year. Why can’t I get over this? Why can’t I get over him?”

  Karly patted her arm gently, tears welling in her eyes. “Because you loved him, Mel.”

  The insistent cries of a newborn wafted from inside the house. Karly offered Melanie an apologetic smile, rose from her chair, and went inside.

  Melanie stayed on the deck, thinking about what Karly had said. Her friend had spoken in the past tense, but the truth was, her love for Joel was as strong as it had been that day she had tearfully cleared the last of Rick LaSalle’s shirts from her closet.

  I still love him, she thought. In spite of every thing, I still do.

  Twenty-Nine

  It was a cold, grey day in Silver Creek, Missouri. Darlene Anthony sat enjoying a cup of coffee and a break from her secretarial duties at Cornerstone Community Church. She took a final look at the master copy for Sunday’s bulletin, satisfied that she’d banished every last typo and grammatical error from the pages. A shadow crossed her desk, and she looked out through the office window to see an officer, dressed in the uniform of the county sheriff’s department, heading up the sidewalk to the church’s entrance.

  Startled, Darlene quickly dialed Don Steele’s extension. “Pastor, there’s someone here. I … I think he’s from the sheriff’s office. Should I send him in?”

  “Do you know what he wants?”