Once more Susan’s eyes locked with Alix’s.
“Jordan, would you bring me the plate?” his father called out from his position at the barbecue. “These ribs are done to perfection.”
“Sure thing!” Jordan disappeared into the kitchen.
Susan hung her head. “I feel like such a fool, Alix.”
“Why?” she asked. After his little speech about forgiveness, Alix couldn’t possibly be angry. It hurt, what his mother had said, and it would take a while for that pain to go away; nevertheless, this was an important relationship to both her and Jordan. “You love your son and you want the best wife for him. I can’t be upset about that.”
“It’s just… Oh, I feel so foolish. Jordan’s right. You’re going to make him a wonderful wife, and you’re going to be a good pastor’s wife, too.”
She shrugged. “I plan to try.”
“Please,” Susan whispered and her voice cracked as tears filled her eyes. “Don’t hate me.”
Alix took the other woman’s hand. “I don’t.”
“I’ve given you every reason to dislike me and despite that you’ve been nothing but kind. I’m so sorry. Can we put this behind us?”
“Isn’t that what the Lord’s Prayer is all about?” Alix asked. “Asking God to forgive us our trespasses as we forgive others’?”
Susan smiled through her tears. “I’ve been married to Larry for thirty-eight years and been a pastor’s wife all that time, yet it seems I have much to learn from you.” She stood, and came around the table.
Alix met her halfway and they held each other fiercely.
This was a new beginning—the beginning Alix had been hoping for.
CHAPTER 34
Colette Blake
Colette couldn’t sleep. It might as well be noon instead of three o’clock in the middle of a moonless night.
Every time she closed her eyes, all Colette could think about was Christian. The scenarios that ran through her tortured mind were so terrifying, she had to force herself not to scream or cry. Every day without news intensified her fear that Christian would never be found. China was a huge country and no one seemed to have any idea where Christian might be. No one was saying anything, at any rate.
Elizabeth had asked Colette to stay with her until this was resolved, one way or another. But how much longer should they continue to hold out hope?
Elliott Dempsey had landed in Beijing and phoned to tell them he’d spoken to the U.S. embassy. He’d hired an investigative team and was awaiting word. He phoned at least once a day with an update. So far every lead had come to an abrupt dead end. Christian had never arrived in Zhongshan—but this was information Colette already had. His trail began and ended in Beijing.
Climbing silently out of bed, Colette crept down the stairs. A glass of milk might help relax her enough to sleep.
When she came into the kitchen, Colette was surprised to find Elizabeth sitting at the table, dressed in a long robe. Her white hair hung down around her shoulders.
Elizabeth gave her a tired smile. “You couldn’t sleep, either?” she asked.
Colette shook her head. “I came down for a glass of milk.”
“I did, too, but it hasn’t done me any good,” the old woman said. “I doubt it’ll help you, either.”
“Give it time.” It wasn’t like Elizabeth to be so negative.
“Time! I’ve been sitting here for an hour and I don’t feel the slightest bit tired yet.”
“You haven’t slept in days.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “Neither have you.”
That was true. Ever since she’d gotten word, Colette hadn’t been able to rest for more than an hour or two. She couldn’t release the tension—and the fear—that held her in its grip.
“Sit down,” Elizabeth said. “We should talk.”
Colette poured the milk, then sat at the wooden table, wondering what Elizabeth could possibly say that hadn’t already been said a hundred times.
“Christian and I spoke the night before he left,” the old woman began. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I think now…now that it’s been nearly ten days without word… Well, I’ve decided you have a right to know.” She paused and Colette waited for her to go on, hardly daring to breathe.
“He came to me after I tried to play matchmaker.” She revealed a hint of a smile and motioned with her hands, as if to say that entire scheme had been a failure. “I’m no good at subterfuge.”
“It was sweet of you to try.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a compliment compared to what Christian had to say on the subject.”
“I can imagine.” As long as she’d worked for him, Christian had never refrained from expressing his feelings.
“He told me it was better for both of you if he stayed away.” Elizabeth scowled in disapproval. “I argued with him but it got me nowhere. Men! I never met one with a lick of sense. Even Charles…” Sighing, she lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Never mind, this is about Christian and not Charles, although they’re more alike than I realized.”
She sighed again. “Christian also said there were things he couldn’t discuss. Why he’d say that to me, I have no idea. I tried to get him to talk but he refused. He said it was safer if I didn’t know.” Elizabeth seemed perturbed at his reticence. “He did tell me something significant, though. Perhaps he had a premonition that he wouldn’t return, but…”
“Tell me!” Colette pleaded.
“It should come as no surprise. My nephew loves you.”
Colette brought her hand to her throat. “He actually told you that?”
Elizabeth snorted. “Do you think I’m making it up?”
“No, but…” Tears filled her eyes.
“He’s in some kind of trouble,” his great-aunt said thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t tell me, no matter how hard I pressed.”
Colette lowered her head. “I know what it is.”
Elizabeth stared at her, incredulous. “You know and you haven’t said anything to me?”
“It’s something you won’t want to hear.”
“You’d best tell me right this minute, young woman.”
And so Colette did, describing what she’d found on his computer and her own reaction to it. She told Elizabeth about everything, including the anonymous letter she’d written to the INS, her suspicions about where he was now and why.
The old woman didn’t ask a single question until Colette had finished. “You don’t seriously believe my nephew’s involved in human trafficking?” she said, incredulous.
“I…I’m not sure what to believe.”
“My dear girl. Christian would no more sink to that level than I would. If you had a single active brain cell, you’d know that.” Then, more sympathetically, she asked, “Have you been carrying this burden all these months?”
“I know what I saw,” she said defensively.
“Or what you thought you saw,” the old woman countered.
“He didn’t deny it.”
This gave Elizabeth pause, but only for a moment. “I refuse to believe it.”
The baby moved, reminding Colette how much she had at stake. “The only thing we can do is ask Christian himself—once he’s back,” she said, unwilling to accept that he wouldn’t return. Hope was all they had to live on, and for now it was enough to see her through another day.
They were silent for a long time after that.
“I have contacts in the government,” Elizabeth eventually said. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“But—”
“You should never have kept this information to yourself, Colette.”
“But…”
“Had I known, I could have acted sooner.”
“Who will you ask?”
She straightened. “Charles and I were good friends with the parents of our state senator.”
“A…senator?”
“He’ll get me the information I need. I wish you’d had the common s
ense to tell me all this before now,” she complained again.
“Me, too, but I didn’t want to distress you.”
“Never mind.” Elizabeth patted her hand. “At least you’ve told me. I’ll deal with it, and we’ll find out the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is.”
“Thank you,” Colette said. “And you might’ve said something about what Christian told you.”
Elizabeth had the grace to smile. “Yes, my dear, I suppose I should have.” She gazed at Colette with somber eyes. “Let me tell you this. You hold his heart in the palm of your hand.”
Colette felt a warmth that spread through her whole body. “And he has mine. All I hope is that he knows it.”
Christian’s great-aunt relaxed in her chair. “He visited me late that night—the night before he left. It was well past the time I generally retire, but I’d been reading. I’d just headed up to bed when he came unexpectedly to the house. I spoke to him about his manners, but I let him in.” She shook her head in some amusement. “Men, especially the younger ones, have no sense of propriety.”
Christian’s visit had occurred the same night she’d gone to him. The night he’d kissed her.
“We had tea in the library,” Elizabeth said, “and it was the best visit I’ve had with him in years. It reminded me of when he was a boy….” Her voice grew soft with affection.
Colette closed her eyes, picturing Christian with his aunt in this room she’d come to love, with its marble fireplace and row upon row of books. She could so easily see him there, leaning forward intently as he spoke.
“He told me about your…night together,” Elizabeth continued, eyebrows raised. “Naturally, I didn’t let on that I knew all about it—and its consequences.”
“Thank you,” was all Colette could say.
“It wasn’t just for your sake, my dear girl. My nephew was making his grand confession. He was in a wretched state, certain that his impulsiveness had ruined everything. I wasn’t about to admit that you’d already shared your secret with me.”
“I’m…glad.”
“He told me, as you had, that you’d worked for him for five years and that he’d never looked upon you as anything more than a valued assistant—until after your husband’s death. He was also sure you’d seen him only as your employer. Until then…”
“I had.”
“Afterward he said he’d behaved badly. He was afraid he’d destroyed your relationship. Apparently, you had the same reservations.”
“Yes.” Everything Christian had told his aunt was true. But two unexpected events had altered the situation. The first was the fact that she was pregnant and the second was what she’d discovered on his computer. She understood now that at least part of his reserve after the holidays could be attributed to his illegal activities.
Colette saw that Elizabeth was smiling now. “I’ve known Christian his entire life,” the old woman said. “I know that young man better than his own father does. He can be stubborn and unreasonable. When he came to me that night, I saw him as a man in love, a man who feared he’d risked too much.”
Tears clouded Colette’s eyes as something else occurred to her. “It’s like you said earlier—he suspected he might not come back. That’s why he told you.”
Elizabeth grabbed Colette’s hand with surprising strength. “We have to trust he’ll come home.”
“I want him to know we love him,” Colette whispered.
“He knows,” Elizabeth said, her voice confident. “I have to believe he does.”
Colette had to believe that, too.
“Now,” Elizabeth said. “I’d suggest we try again to sleep.”
Colette finished her milk, rinsed the glass and set it in the sink. Together, the two women climbed the wide sweeping staircase to the second floor. They parted there, Elizabeth going to her own room at the end of the hall, while Colette walked to the opposite end, to the guest bedroom.
For the first time since she’d arrived, Colette slept for four hours straight. When she woke, the sun was high and light spilled into the room.
Seconds later, she realized what had awakened her—the sharp ring of a phone. With a burst of hope, she tossed aside her covers and ran out of the room. She stood at the top of the stairs and listened as Elizabeth answered the phone. After the initial greeting, the other woman was silent for a long moment.
“Thank God!” she cried suddenly, but her exclamation of joy was immediately followed by a cry of frustration.
Colette moved down to the top step.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Elizabeth was saying. “Don’t spare any expense,” she said. “Find him, Elliott, and don’t come home until you do.”
So Christian hadn’t been rescued. Overcome by discouragement and frustration, Colette sank onto the step and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t know how Elizabeth was holding up when Colette’s own sense of hope was all but shredded.
Colette returned to her room and quickly pulled on slacks and a light sweater. She’d shower later. Right now, it was more important to learn what Elizabeth had been told by Christian’s father.
Colette found her in the garden, watering her plants.
“I heard the phone,” Colette said, stepping onto the back patio.
Elizabeth gasped. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to announce yourself properly instead of scaring people half to death?”
Taken aback, Colette froze. Then she saw that Elizabeth’s cheeks were stained with tears. “Tell me,” she whispered.
“We know where he went,” Elizabeth said hoarsely. She took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, her voice was clear. “The investigator Elliott hired discovered that Christian ended up in a completely different city. A town actually. In Shanxi province.”
“But…why?”
“That I can’t answer.”
Colette frowned. “Has Elliott tracked him down in this other place?”
“No.” Elizabeth sighed heavily. “Not yet. He’s making arrangements to search for him now. I trust he’ll find Christian soon.”
Colette did, too. She was counting on it.
CHAPTER 35
“In knitting, as in life, there are usually two ways to go: The easy way and the hard way. Often we find out about the easy way only when we are three-quarters of the way through with the hard way.”
—Ann Shayne and Kay Gardiner, Mason-Dixon Knitting (Potter Craft, 2006)
Lydia Goetz
I was very concerned about Margaret. I couldn’t ignore what Alix had told me about her wanting to pay someone to injure Danny Chesterfield. I waited, mulling over the situation before I approached Brad. When he heard my news, a dark frown crept slowly across his face.
“Do you think Matt knows about this?” he asked, bringing me a cup of coffee after dinner on Tuesday evening.
“I doubt it.” I gratefully accepted the coffee. It had become our habit to sit down and talk after the evening meal. We took turns making coffee or tea, and now that it was springtime, we often sat on the patio behind the house. I treasured these hours with my husband, even when we just sat in companionable silence.
Brad lounged on the deck chair next to me and cradled his mug with both hands. “We should tell him,” he finally said.
“I think so, too. Only…” I wasn’t sure how to say this. “You know how private Margaret can be.”
Brad looked over at me. “You don’t want to offend your sister by going behind her back.”
I nodded, feeling relieved at his understanding. “It might be best if we talked to the two of them together,” I said.
“How do you figure Margaret will react to being confronted with this?”
“Probably not well,” I admitted. “But I hope she’ll realize I couldn’t ignore this. I want her to know that I know.” My worst fear was that my sister would end up in jail while Danny Chesterfield roamed free. But Margaret was already in a prison of her own making, confined by her hate and her unwillingness to come to terms w
ith what had happened.
Brad stood abruptly and set his mug aside. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” I should’ve known he wouldn’t want to delay doing something about this. Brad is a man of action.
I don’t think the same way Brad does, which is one reason I hadn’t mentioned it immediately. I needed to consider the problem from all angles, examine various options. Not Brad. He wanted to move forward, talk to Matt right away. A part of me was grateful not to carry this burden alone anymore, and yet I wasn’t sure that marching over to Matt and Margaret’s was the best course of action.
Brad settled the matter with one incisive question. “Do you want your sister to follow through with this?”
“No, but…”
“She will, Lydia.”
I knew he was right and the longer we waited, the more likely it was that Margaret would find someone to commit this crime on her behalf.
Fortunately, Cody had gone to his friend Zack’s down the street, and Mrs. Miller was happy to keep him there for another hour.
On the drive over to my sister’s, I asked Brad to do the talking once we arrived. I was nervous. Margaret can take offense so easily and she’d be furious with me for involving myself in affairs she considered none of my concern.
I pictured her blowing up at me, quitting her job and cutting off our relationship. That would devastate me. My mind always seemed to gravitate to the worst possible scenarios. It’s a tendency I’ve had for most of my life, even before the cancer. I find it frightening, unproductive and disconcerting—and I couldn’t quite suppress a sigh as I thought about this. I was about to confront my sister and risk the very relationship I treasured most, outside of the one I shared with my husband and son. And yet I had no choice. All at once I felt like weeping.
As the cliché has it, Brad could read me like a book. When we parked in front of my sister’s house, he gently took my hand. “Everything’s going to work out,” he assured me. “Don’t worry, okay?”
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