Indemnity: Book Two: Covenant of Trust Series

by Paula Wiseman

“This should be good,” Glen said.

  “It was. Jack said you might even be smarter than his dad.” Glen laughed out loud. “But then I told him your secret identity.”

  “What secret identity?”

  “That you’re my husband. He was shocked.”

  “It shocks me sometimes too, ma’am,” Glen answered. “But you knew exactly what you were doing when you said yes, so I can’t help it.”

  “Thanks for praying and everything, Glen. I’ll shut things down and be home soon.”

  “Jack, can we save the stories until we get to the restaurant? I need to concentrate on driving.” When he agreed, Tracy pulled out of the Building Blocks parking lot, and headed toward the pizza parlor.

  Laurie knew Chuck. How could she have missed that little detail? Granted, it probably wouldn’t affect anything, but she worked tirelessly to prevent that kind of slip-up.

  She checked and rechecked everything so carefully before they moved back. She knew where Chuck had moved, where his boys went to school, where his wife taught. She knew Penner Hewitt was the perfect law firm for her. Allen Hewitt proved especially open to her particular brand of persuasion, and gave her a job immediately.

  So Laurie was offended by the lies. People with a strong sense of morals always were, but they were also very forgiving. It worked in her favor to let Laurie and Chuck think she lied just for the sake of lying. They would never understand why she had to cover her movements, her past, and her very identity.

  She never intended to come back to St. Louis, but Chuck would keep Jack safe. That was all that mattered. Jack was the only good thing in her life, the only thing she had ever done right, proof that she wasn’t totally messed up. She hoped.

  Brad Molinsky watched the door of the steakhouse. His dad was never late. He dreaded this conversation, and the tension tightened with each passing moment. When his dad called out of the clear blue, and offered to take him to dinner, he knew God had to be behind it, though. It was time.

  Finally, his dad walked through the door. He’d already taken off his tie, and he worked at flipping the cuffs of his sleeves back two neat turns. “Brad, sorry I’m late.” He reached out a hand, and Brad stood to shake it. “I got a couple of phone calls just before I left.”

  “That’s okay, but I’m the late one. I was starting to wonder.” Brad pointed to the hostess. “I already gave her our names. We shouldn’t have to wait long.”

  “So how’s school?”

  “’Bout like always,” Brad answered, which was a lie.

  “What are your classes? Torts, contracts, and what?”

  “Property. Then the research and writing stuff.”

  “How’s your schedule?”

  “Not bad. It’s like nine to two, but on Wednesdays I don’t get lunch. Thankfully, there are Snickers bars.” His dad smiled, and then the hostess caught his eye.

  “Your table is ready if you’d like to follow me,” she said, picking up two place settings and menus. She seated them at a quiet booth, and after filling their water glasses, assured them a server would be there very soon.

  “So what do you think of your classes?” his dad asked. “Like them?”

  “Torts is my least favorite. Contracts is okay, and I don’t mind the reading and writing.”

  “I didn’t like torts as well, either.” He took a long drink from his glass of water, and then looked right at Brad. “So, what’s on your mind? Is it school, or Jack, or something else?”

  On his mind? His dad set this dinner up. He couldn’t possibly know. “Jack’s okay.”

  “Mom said he really took to you.”

  “Yeah, Joel was never like a little brother. He was more of a twerp.”

  “Brad ...”

  “Oh, he’s a lot better now,” Brad said. “As long as Shannon and Mom are okay with Jack, everything will settle into a new normal soon enough.” Talking about Jack was less pressure, but it was stalling.

  “Good, that’s very reassuring. So it’s school.”

  The question triggered Brad’s denial reflex. “What?”

  “What’s bothering you, Brad?”

  Before he could answer, the waiter came and took their orders. More stalling. If he didn’t get this out soon, he’d never be able to eat. When the waiter left, Brad took a sip of his water, and gave up on his rehearsed speech. “Dad, can I just be real honest?”

  “Of course.”

  “I hate school. I hate everything about it. I’m not getting it, and I feel really stupid.” He sighed and lowered his voice. “I don’t think law school’s my thing.”

  “First off, you’re not stupid. You graduated with honors with a management degree.”

  Brad scowled. Typical parental answer. True, but no help.

  “Give it some time. Next spring when you get into civil and advocacy law, things may change.” He stopped talking as the waiter set the salads down, with glasses of tea. “Practicing law is different than school. When you practice, you can get into an area you like, but in school, you’re exposed to a little bit of everything. You’ve got such a strong sense of justice, of right and wrong, you’ll make a great lawyer.” Chuck poured dressing over his salad and began to eat.

  Typical Dad. Hearing, not listening. He had no choice but to shock him.

  “Dad, I don’t want to practice law.”

  His dad slowly set his fork down in his salad bowl, and leaned back in the booth.

  “Brad, I’m, uh ...”

  Brad wished his dad still yelled about everything. The quiet hurt and rejection in his eyes were much, much worse.

  “Dad, it’s nothing against you ...”

  “Are you sure you’ve thought about all this? You can do other things with a law degree besides practice. FBI, for example.”

  Brad tried to smile. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Keep him in law school. Just ride this out.’ Truth is, for the last year, this is all I’ve thought about.” He leaned forward, and started to make his case. “I’m not trying to be rebellious, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful. Believe me, I know that if I follow you to the firm, I’ve got it made. It would be so easy to do that, but Dad, I don’t think that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Then what, exactly, are you supposed to do?” He stabbed at the lettuce in his salad.

  His mother warned him about the pout, and teased that he had one just like it. Brad waited until his dad raised his head, and looked him in the eye. “I want to go to seminary.”

  Chuck laid his fork down slowly. “You want to pastor?”

  He shook his head and leaned forward as the burden of secrecy fell away. “I want to work in the city. My apartment’s downtown, well, downtown enough, and everyday I see a whole population sinking deeper in despair, slipping farther away from the reach of the gospel. These people shouldn’t have to pay through eternity just because they didn’t have the advantages that I’ve had. I was raised in church, in a home where my parents taught me who Jesus was.”

  “I understand that, but—”

  “No, there was this one guy, his name was Julius, and I’d see him every morning out by my car. For a long time, I thought he was trying to steal it. One morning, I don’t know what got into me, but I asked him to breakfast. He wouldn’t go. Called me a rich boy, among other things, and said he didn’t want to be seen with me.”

  “A kid?”

  “He could have been fifteen or twenty. It was hard to tell. So every time I left, if Julius was around, I asked him to go with me, or if I could drop him somewhere. He’d never let me, but he’d talk to me a little more. He was a big Rams fan, so we talked a lot of football. I asked him if he’d ever been to a game, and of course, he hadn’t. So one Sunday, I skipped church to take Julius to a Rams game.”

  Brad dropped his head. “I struggled with that for a long time, skipping church, but then when we got back to my place - Julius wouldn’t tell me where he lived - he asked me why I’d do all that. I told him if that was what it cost to g
et him to listen to me, it was a small price to pay. And he did listen. I told him all about Jesus, and Julius was a new man.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Julius started bringing his buddies around. He was the real missionary, not me. He’d say, ‘You need what that boy got.’ Sometimes we’d get through to them, a lot of times we didn’t.”

  “You keep using past tense. What happened?”

  “Julius tried to get between his mother and her live-in. He was stabbed seven times. The guy knew exactly how ... Julius bled to death almost before they could call an ambulance. I heard about it the next day.”

  “I’m so sorry,” his dad said quietly.

  “I’ll see him again someday.” Brad managed a smile. “Maybe I can introduce you then.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Anyway, that evening I read Psalm 41. It starts, ‘Blessed is he who considers the poor’ and I studied it out. Poor doesn’t just mean finances. It means helpless, powerless, and even hopeless. I can’t turn my back on these people now. I want to get trained, and go back to them, and take Jesus to them.”

  “Is it too late for seminary this semester?”

  Brad nodded. “It’ll take me a while to get all the paperwork together, and take the GRE. I’m hoping for next year.”

  “You know where you want to go?”

  “Dallas Theological.”

  “That’s a long way from home.” His dad sipped his water, and Brad sat in silence, letting his dad absorb his news, and begin to mourn the death of that future he’d planned since Brad was six. Finally, his dad asked, “Does your mom know?”

  “Kind of. You know, seminary is a lot cheaper than law school.”

  “I don’t care about the money, Brad. I never ... I owe you an apology. Here, you’ve been torn up for weeks, and not only did I not realize it, but I caused most of it.”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you. I feel like I’m letting you down, like I’ve killed your dreams.” Brad pushed his salad around.

  “Son, look at me.” Brad raised his head, and saw tears brimming in his father’s eyes. “I apologize to you from the depths of my heart for making you feel that way. I’m extremely proud of you. I don’t want you to spend your life doing something you hate just to please me. That would be the height of arrogance, and I’m qualified to speak on arrogance.”

  Brad smiled.

  “To think that God would call my son into the ministry ...” His voice trailed off and he blinked back a tear. “I hate to think what would happen to anybody who tried to get in your way. Tell me what I need to do to help you.”

  “You already did it,” Brad said.

  CHAPTER 14

  RESOLUTION

  Bobbi sipped her nightly cup of coffee, glancing at the clock between each drink. “Seven o’clock, an hour and a half for dinner, driving home. He should be here any minute.” She hoped Chuck took the news well, that he listened to Brad’s heart. A son in seminary. A son in Dallas. That would be difficult. She wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of Joel going to Columbia to college.

  She heard the front door open, and called out, “I’m in the kitchen.”

  When Chuck came in the room, he took a long look at her, and then shook his head. “You knew all about this, didn’t you?”

  “He wanted me to tell you. He was scared to death.”

  Chuck eased into one of the kitchen chairs. “We discussed that.” He reached for Bobbi’s hand. “You know, I would have thought Joel was more the seminary type.”

  “On the surface,” Bobbi said. “But God took a kid who only saw things in black and white, right or wrong, and turned him into a young man who cannot compromise in obeying the call he’s been given. I’m anxious to see what he does now that he knows he has your blessing. That’s a tremendous burden lifted.”

  “So when do I get to be the good parent?” Chuck asked with a smile.

  “Let me get back to you on that,” Bobbi teased. Finishing her coffee, she pushed back from the table. “I am drained. The weekend was intense, and there was no chance to catch up today. I’m going to bed.”

  “Me too. I’ve got to call the case worker tomorrow, and get started on the parenting plan.”

  “Do I have to be involved in that? Legally, I have no relationship to Jack, right?”

  “I want your input.”

  “Yes, but meetings? Do I have to go to any meetings?”

  “Maybe not. I’ll find out for sure.”

  “Please let me win this one,” Bobbi said in mock prayer, looking up at the ceiling. Chuck shook his head at her and turned out the kitchen light.

  Wednesday, September 12

  From the kitchen table, Bobbi could hear Shannon and Jack chattering in the family room, but she stayed focused on the addition facts homework papers she had to grade. Things went smoothly until she heard Chuck’s voice. “Jack, get your backpack,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  “I just got here,” Jack protested.

  “Daddy, we’re right in the middle!” Shannon whined.

  “I know, but I have to have Jack home to his mother by eight o’clock,” Chuck said. “It’s not my rule.”

  Bobbi joined them in the family room, and helped Jack get his shoes on. “Is it Mom’s rule?” he asked. “’Cause we can talk her out of it.” His shoes on, he tried to inch his way back to the toys.

  “It’s the court’s rule,” Chuck said.

  “Oh.” Jack dragged his backpack toward the doorway.

  “And don’t try to wiggle your way out of your mom’s rules,” Chuck guided him down the hallway to the entry hall.

  Bobbi leaned against the doorframe and waved to him. “Bye, Jack. See you at school tomorrow, and here ... next week, I guess.”

  “Mrs. Dad? Can I hug you too, or just my dad?”

  “You can hug just about anybody you want to,” Bobbi answered. She knelt down and held her arms out, just the way Ann had done it. Jack wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. “See you next week,” Bobbi whispered. Jack had barely let go of Bobbi when Shannon hugged him tightly, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  “Be back soon,” Chuck said, and kissed Bobbi on the cheek. “Come on, buddy.”

  The word instantly stung Bobbi’s heart. He did it again. “Chuck, can I talk to you just a second before you leave?”

  “Sure,” Chuck answered, following his wife into the study. “What’s the matter?”

  “Please don’t call him that.” She glanced past Chuck to make sure the children weren’t listening. “You called Joel ‘buddy.’”

  Chuck rolled his eyes. “This has got to stop, Bobbi. Jack’s here to stay. You’ve got to get a handle on that.”

  “One word, Chuck,” she said holding a finger up close to his face. “All I’m asking for is one word. Call him something else.”

  “He’s not replacing Joel.”

  “Will you try for twenty seconds to ‘get a handle’ on what it does to me when you call Jack ‘buddy?’ Yes, he’s here to stay, but in his own place, not my son’s place.”

  “I’m going to be late,” Chuck said, walking away. “Come on, Jack.” Once he closed the front door behind him, Bobbi slammed her hand against the doorframe.

  “Mommy, are you mad?” Shannon asked.

  “I thought I saw a bug,” Bobbi lied. “Let’s get you in the tub.”

  As Chuck backed his car out into the street, he saw Jack’s frown. “Something wrong?” He caught himself before he said buddy.

  “Am I in trouble?” Jack asked

  “No, I am.”

  “I didn’t know dads got in trouble.”

  “Hang around me for a little while.” He turned the exchange with Bobbi over in his mind. Surely, she didn’t believe that he was choosing Jack over Joel. Calling him buddy was just a reflex. He didn’t mean anything by it. She needed to stop taking everything so personally, stop reacting so emotionally.

  Where’s the middle ground? Where�
�s she coming from? What does she want? She always makes a distinction between the boys and Jack, between “her” sons and “Tracy’s” son. She doesn’t want them equated. Why? Does that mean their mothers are equal? Is that it? Was Bobbi that insecure?

  “Hey! Colin’s here!” Jack pointed to a black convertible BMW parked on the street in front of the house.

  “Who’s Colin?”

  “He works with my mom a lot.” Chuck parked behind the BMW, and helped Jack get out of the back seat.

  “But you called him by his first name.”

  “Mom says he’s not a grown-up.” Jack took Chuck’s hand, and pulled him to the porch. “Come on! I want him to meet you!”

  Fearing the worst, Chuck cautioned Jack to ring the bell this time.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want Colin to think I’m rude.” Jack studied Chuck’s face for a moment, then shrugged and rang the bell. As the seconds became minutes, Chuck fought to keep his temper in check. At last, Tracy opened the front door. “Hi Mom! I want Colin to meet my dad,” Jack said opening the door wide.

  “Sure, he’s in the living room.” Tracy stepped back and smiled at Chuck as he walked through the door.

  Chuck immediately recognized the after-shave scent from the weekend, but its owner caught him off-guard. A young man, barely out of his twenties, tanned, and tailored with every hair in place stood and smiled as soon as Jack entered the room. His suit jacket lay neatly draped over the arm of a chair with his tie. The sleeves of his shirt were carefully rolled up two turns, signaling that this was hardly an all-business evening.

  The young man high-fived Jack. “Hey, I missed you this weekend, buddy.”

  Chuck vowed never to use that word again.

  “Chuck, this is Colin Janssen. He’s a colleague of mine at Penner Hewitt. I’m sure you remember what it was like to collaborate on a case.” Tracy smiled at Chuck with a raised eyebrow. “Colin, this is Jack’s dad.” When the younger man shook his hand, Chuck smelled liquor on top of the after-shave.