Indemnity: Book Two: Covenant of Trust Series

by Paula Wiseman

  “Well, Chuck, I’m safe, sound and sober, so can I have my keys?” Tracy’s eyes lingered on Bobbi while she spoke.

  “Sure,” Chuck pulled the key ring from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “So, if you’re satisfied, I’ve got some things I need to take care of.”

  “When is your dad getting out of prison?” Chuck asked point blank, and Bobbi wanted to punch him. He’d lost his mind, baiting her that way.

  Tracy rolled her eyes and swore at him. “Did you read my mail? Where do you get off —?”

  “I didn’t read anything,” Chuck answered firmly. “I played a hunch that’s what really set you off. Not Colin double-crossing you, not quitting your job.” He raised his eyebrows and said gently, “Evidently, I was right.” Bobbi watched Tracy transform, her expression changed from anger to panic. “He can’t hurt you, Tracy. He can’t even find you.”

  “You found me,” Tracy shot back. “How long did it take you to track down who I really was? A day? Part of a day?”

  “I was working backwards. I already had most of the pieces—”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not safe.” She rubbed her thumb and fingers together, her eyes darting to the front door.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Would she run again? Would she disappear with Jack, change both of their names, just when Chuck was getting to know his son? Would she do something far more desperate?

  “I don’t know yet, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”

  “Why not? That’s crazy.”

  “Chuck, you don’t get it. The less you know the better. It protects you, and it protects me.”

  “Tracy—”

  “If he can connect us, you’re in danger, and he can use you to find me! I can’t make it much plainer!”

  “Let us help you,” Chuck pleaded.

  “There’s nothing you can do. It’s over.”

  “Can’t we file—?”

  “I have filed everything there is to file.” She made a wide sweeping arc with her hand. “That’s the whole reason I went to law school!” She dropped her voice, and Bobbi wasn’t sure if Tracy was speaking to Chuck and her, or if she was reassuring herself. “John Dailey ... Mr. Dailey, he’s watched out for me all these years. He says there’s nothing left that we can do. Nothing. There’s nothing left.” She glanced at the door again.

  “I don’t believe that,” Chuck said. “There’s always something. Let me call him.”

  “No!” Tracy’s eyes flashed with nervous anger. “Just stay out of it! I can handle it.” She pulled her front door open. “The biggest help you can be right now is to go.”

  Chuck hesitated for a moment, and then nodded to Bobbi that they should go.

  Bobbi crossed in front of him so she could look Tracy in the eye. “I can’t imagine how hard things have been for you, but you’ve done a wonderful job with Jack.” Tracy blinked slowly. “Let Chuck, or Glen and Laurie, or somebody ... let somebody help you. For Jack’s sake.”

  Tracy didn’t answer. Instead, she clung to the front door, and glanced back at Chuck. He followed Bobbi out, but before Tracy could shut the door, he turned back and said, “I won’t let anything happen to Jack.”

  “Why do you think I brought him here?”

  “I think I’m more concerned now after seeing her,” Bobbi said as Chuck turned the car around in Tracy’s driveway.

  “She was much better today.”

  “She’s on the brink of a nervous breakdown.” Bobbi blinked back a tear as she stared out the passenger window. “I know ... I know how it feels to be coming apart, losing yourself, but struggling to hide it from everyone else.” She felt Chuck’s hand on hers. “To be isolated and alone, not trusting anyone else. It’s an awful, awful place. No wonder she drinks.”

  “What does she need? How can we help her?”

  “You can’t. She has to come to the end of herself. She has to know she’s out of options.”

  “What about Jack? Wouldn’t she get help for his sake?”

  “Not if she’s decided he’s better off somewhere else.”

  He squeezed her hand, and then gently lifted it to his lips. “Wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

  “On one condition.” She pulled her hand back and twisted around to face him. “You don’t talk.”

  “What ...”

  “I need to absorb this. I’m not ready to discuss it.”

  A dejected, little-boy pout settled across his face. “What if I need to talk, though?”

  “You can wait until I’ve finished my second cup.” She winked at him, and he managed a half-smile. He drove to Dear Joe’s, held the door for her, and bought her a very large cup of Turkish coffee.

  Bobbi slid into one of the booths away from the door, and took a long sip. “All right. What?”

  “That’s not your second cup.”

  “You won’t last. Just tell me.”

  “She didn’t answer my question. She didn’t tell me when her dad’s getting out.”

  “She doesn’t trust you with that information.”

  “Yet. I’m gonna track down John Dailey. He knows.”

  “She very distinctly told you not to.”

  “She didn’t mean it.” He gulped his own coffee with a satisfied grin.

  Bobbi pulled a napkin from the dispenser, and set her cup on it. Chuck often did her the same way. Going against what she said, when he knew that was exactly what she wanted. And he had no idea how much that similarity bothered her.

  The more she found out about Tracy, she discovered how much she had in common with her. The loss of their mothers, then their fathers. The insecurity. The inability to trust. The struggle with forgiveness. The love for their children. The attraction to Chuck ... And his attraction ...

  “You okay?” Chuck asked. “You look a little pale.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m ready to head home.”

  “You did an amazing thing today.”

  “No, I proved I’m not ready for this. I don’t want to have compassion for her. I don’t want to connect with her.”

  “Bobbi, ease up on yourself. I don’t think anybody is asking you to be friends with her.”

  “It’s not ... Chuck, the more I learn, the more I see of her ... the more I see myself.”

  Sunday, October 7

  Jack had waited all weekend for Sunday, for church, for a chance to talk to the cowboy preacher. “Mister Pastor Glen, can I ask you something?” He could feel his dad’s hand on his shoulder. Someday, soon he hoped, he’d be too big for that.

  “Sure, Jack. Why don’t you and your dad head over to my office and I’ll be right there.”

  Jack twisted away from his dad. “I ‘member where it is. You don’t even hafta show me.” His dad followed him anyway. The pastor’s door stood open, and Jack started to go in and sit down, but he stopped. “Dad, I kinda want you to hear, but I kinda don’t.”

  “How come you don’t?”

  “It’s ... well ... I don’t want to talk about it, but I think I need to.”

  “You won’t get in trouble, no matter what it is.”

  “It’s not me,” Jack said quietly.

  His dad knelt down so they were eye to eye. “Your mom won’t get in trouble, either.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He hugged Jack gently just as the preacher walked up.

  “All right, young man!” the pastor said, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

  Jack looked down the hallway in case anyone was around. “In there.” He pointed inside the office. “I’ll tell you in there.”

  “Come on in, then.”

  “Can you close the door?” Jack asked before he sat down.

  The preacher pulled the door closed, and sat at his desk, leaning forward on his elbows. “What’s wrong, Jack?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it your mom?”

  “Kind of.”

  “W
hat happened?”

  “She was really mad. It wasn’t just mad. It was different. Madder.” He blinked several times. “I don’t know what I did.”

  “Jack, you didn’t do anything,” his dad said. He patted his knee then steadied Jack as he climbed up on his lap. “It’s hard to understand, but what happened the other night had nothing to do with you. You were just there when it happened. She would have been just as mad if you hadn’t been there.”

  “She threw things ... busted glass ... She never did that before.”

  “It was scary, wasn’t it?”

  Jack nodded with tears brimming in his eyes.

  “But she wouldn’t hurt you for anything in this world.”

  Jack nodded and wiped his eyes. “But there was a kid before we moved, and his dad would get mad, and they took him away from his dad. And then you said the judge might think about it ...”

  His dad pulled him close with both arms. “Nobody is going to take you away from your mom. I won’t let that happen.”

  Jack pushed away. “Is she going to do it again?”

  “I told Pastor Glen, and he and I went to see your mom Friday, and Mrs. Dad and I checked on her yesterday. We’re trying to help her.”

  He turned to the preacher. “She should come to church and listen to you, then she’d know you better, and maybe she’d let you.”

  “I asked her to come to church,” the preacher said.

  “What if we baptized you, Jack?” his dad said. “I bet she’d come then.”

  “What-a-tize me?”

  “We have a big ole tub kind of a thing up in the front of the church,” the preacher said. “Any time anybody believes in Jesus, we take ‘em up there and dunk ‘em under that water.”

  “Like, hold ‘em under?”

  “No, just real quick. It’s a symbol. It shows that the Jack who didn’t believe in Jesus is gone, and you’re a new Jack.”

  “And my mom would wanna see that?”

  “I’m pretty sure she would. Don’t you think so, Chuck?”

  “I know she would, Jack,” his dad said.

  “Well, dunk me, then,” Jack said.

  “That’s baptize,” the preacher said. “We could do it next Sunday.”

  “Why can’t you do it now?”

  “I usually do it in a church service.” Pastor Glen smiled at him. “We need to give your mom a little notice, too.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jack nodded.

  “Hey, Jack, let’s pray for your mom,” the preacher said.

  Jack climbed down from his dad’s lap. “Does it work better if you’re on your knees?”

  “It never hurts,” the preacher said, and he knelt down. Then his dad did too.

  Jack looked at the grown-ups on their knees beside him, and he knew this had to work. He closed his eyes tightly, just in case God counted off for peeking and prayed the way his dad taught him. “Father God, my mom needs help a lot. Mister Pastor Glen can help her ’cause he can tell her about You. I think that’s why she gets mad, ’cause she just doesn’t know. Help her not be afraid to come and to have a good time. Amen.”

  CHAPTER 21

  JUXTAPOSITION

  “Mom! I’m home!” Jack called as he pushed the front door open. Chuck waited with Jack’s suitcase in hand, just inside the doorway, the way he always did.

  “Be right down,” Tracy called from upstairs, and moments later, she met them in the entryway. “I think you grew this weekend,” Tracy said as she hugged Jack. “Your dinner’s waiting for you.” She pointed him toward the kitchen.

  Chuck tried to imagine Tracy cooking, but the mental picture wouldn’t form.

  “What’d you make?” Jack asked.

  “Chicken, well, nuggets actually, and I mixed the ketchup and barbecue sauce. Check it and see if I got it right.”

  “Mac and cheese?”

  “Of course.” Tracy watched with a sad, weak smile as Jack scrambled into the kitchen, then she dropped her eyes as she turned toward Chuck. She pushed her hair behind her ears, and shifted her weight, then crossed her arms tightly before she spoke. “I ... don’t quite know what to make of you,” she said, raising her eyes to his for just a moment.

  “What are you talking about?” Chuck asked.

  “I really gave you a lot of ammunition to use against me. You could have shamed and humiliated me ...”

  “Tracy—”

  “Let me finish.” She shook her head with that same weak smile. “Frankly, I don’t know how to respond.”

  She could respond when someone betrayed her, but she had no idea what to do with grace or compassion. “Just say thank you.”

  She pushed her hair away from her face again, and her eyes darted from Chuck’s to the floor in front of her. “I don’t binge like that. I want you to know that much.”

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  “I’m glad Jack has you for a dad,” Tracy said quietly.

  Chuck felt the immediate flush of a dozen conflicting emotions. She cared deeply what he thought ... about her. And he ... God help him ... he cared about her. Not in the selfish, adulterous way he did years ago, but with the empathy and dignity she deserved.

  “Thank you,” Chuck answered. “Tell Jack I’ll see him Wednesday.”

  That night, Tracy pulled the blanket up around Jack as she tucked him in bed. “Pastor Glen said he would baptize me next Sunday. Will you come?”

  “Of course, Jack.”

  “You’ll like Pastor Glen. He’s nice.”

  “I’ve talked to him before.”

  “Oh yeah, he came Friday with my dad to check on you.”

  “He did. Listen, Jack, did you tell your dad I was sick?”

  “I told Mrs. Dad, and she told my dad. Am I in trouble?”

  “No. You didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Are you okay now?”

  “Okay how?” Tracy sat down on the side of his bed.

  “You’re not gonna be like you were, are you?”

  “Like what, Jack? I don’t understand.”

  “Thursday night. You were really mad, and you yelled, and you threw your glass, and it broke right by me.”

  “I did what?”

  “You threw your glass like a baseball, and it went pkkk-ewww.” He waved his hands in a wide arc. “And pieces went everywhere. I can show you where it broke.”

  Icy, frantic shame gripped her. She didn’t remember any of it. Nothing. What if she had done something worse than just break a glass? What if she’d hit him? What if she’d hurt him?

  “Jack,” Tracy whispered, and pulled him up into a hug. “I am so sorry.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Mom ... you can let go now,” Jack said.

  Tracy dragged the back of her hand across her eyes and cheeks before letting go of him. “Jack, I promise you, it will never happen again. Can you forgive me?”

  “Yes, but you gotta keep that promise.”

  “I love you, Jack. More than you will ever understand.” She kissed him on the top of his head, and tucked him once again. She crossed the room and switched off his light. “Goodnight.”

  “Night, Mom.” He rolled over and scooted down in the bed.

  As his door clicked closed, in the secrecy of the hallway, her knees gave way, and her hands shook uncontrollably. Whatever was in her father, the demon, the mental illness, whatever it was, was also in her. Just like her father, she exploded in a drunken rage, with no warning ... Just like her father.

  Tracy crawled to the stairs and gripped the railing, hoping it was anchor enough as the house rolled and surged away from her. She made it to the kitchen, and without turning on the light, she pulled a half-empty bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and a glass. She steadied the bottle against her hip, then rested it on the rim of the glass and poured.

  You just promised him you wouldn’t do this again. She took a quick drink. No, I promised I wouldn’t overdo it, again. She shook her head trying to get rid of the internal dialogue.


  She set the glass down and leaned against the counter as a heavy sense of failure smothered her, pressing the breath from her lungs. She tried so hard to distance herself from him, from everything about him, but she couldn’t escape blood. Now Jack ... Jack knew. He saw who she really was at the core of her being. She had tainted him.

  She gulped the bourbon, and poured another half glass. She lived for these few hours each day, free of the guilt, and the shame and the fear.

  Jack came home from his first time at church quoting ‘You will know the truth and the truth will make you free.’ Free. Not with the truth, that much was certain.

  Monday, October 8

  Glen Dillard had resigned himself to talking to Tracy’s answering machine when she surprised him and picked up. “Ms. Ravenna, I’m sorry to bother you at home. This is Glen Dillard.”

  “Mr. Dillard, I no longer have a job, so home is your only option.”

  She sounded annoyed already. “The reason I called, Jack came to my office yesterday and asked to be baptized. Now, what that means—”

  “He told me. This Sunday, right?”

  “If that will work for you.”

  “What time?”

  “Eleven. He just needs a change of clothes. We’ll do the baptism at the beginning of the service.”

  No quick, sharp answer this time.

  “Ms. Ravenna, I sense some hesitation. Is there something else?”

  Silence.

  Glen, disappointed, was ready to say goodbye when Tracy spoke.

  “Mr. Dillard, your church is fully aware of Jack’s ... circumstances.”

  God, help her spit it out. She’s getting there!

  “I guess, my concern is, your church knows exactly who I am, and what I’ve done.”

  “Ms. Ravenna,” Glen said gently, “I promise you, on my honor as a Southern gentleman and a Texan, that if anybody even looks cross-eyed at you, I’ll take care of it. I’m thrilled and honored that you would come, and I know Jack will be too. He loves you very much, ma’am.”

  “Jack is all I have, Mr. Dillard.”