by Judy Duarte
“How will an accusation like that affect you, being on parole and all?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. They need some proof to arrest me. And they won’t find it. I’ve never even stepped foot on that woman’s property.”
“She said you were casing out her place yesterday morning.”
“Oh, for cripes sake.” Zack shot her an angry, wounded look. “I was looking to see if Becky hit the ball over there. And Martha flipped out. Now I know why. She’s been suspicious of me since day one.”
Diana stepped forward, her arms lifting to embrace him, but he turned away, not letting her touch him or console him.
“Don’t shut me out,” she said.
“Why not? Don’t you realize that your faith in me doesn’t matter? It will only drag you down with me.”
“I don’t care about that.”
He blew out an emotion-laden sigh, then took her in his arms, holding her close. “You have to care, Diana. You’ve got two sweet little girls to worry about, not just yourself.”
She inhaled his scent, his strength. “But I have you to worry about, too. I love you, Zack.”
He gripped her tighter, as though desperate to hang on and never let go. “You have no idea how much that means to me, but it’s not enough.” Then he slowly released her. “I can’t stay any longer. I don’t want to be here, at your house, if the police come to talk to me. I don’t want you to go through that.”
Then he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to call my parole agent and give him a heads-up. I figure it will go easier on me if I do.”
“You can use my phone.”
“No, I’d rather not stick around any longer.” He opened the door, and she followed him outside.
“Please don’t leave, Zack. Not yet.”
“I have to.” He was in his car before she could stop him. “There can’t be anything between us, Diana. I knew better from the start. It just won’t work.” Then he turned the ignition, the engine roaring in response.
“But, Zack,” she said, opening her heart and soul to him. “I’m in love with you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
He paused for a moment. Had her words sunk in? Touched him? Was she convincing him they could be a team? Partners, friends, lovers?
He caught her gaze, but he didn’t smile, didn’t weaken. “I love you, too. And this is tearing me up. But it’s the only way. And the quicker, the better. A relationship with you was a mistake from the get-go. And love isn’t enough.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and a scream of frustration strangled in her throat. How could he throw it all away like that? Her love, her faith in him.
He’d said it wasn’t enough.
For years she’d tried to be good, to please her father. And then later, to please Peter. But it hadn’t helped. And she refused to swallow her pride again.
She’d be damned if she’d beg and plead. If her love wasn’t good enough for Zack, he didn’t deserve it.
Then she turned and walked into the house, her heart broken and her spirit struggling to be whole.
The slam of her front door echoed throughout the neighborhood.
And she didn’t give a damn who heard it.
Chapter Thirteen
Zack walked into his apartment and headed straight for the phone. But the first call he made wasn’t to his parole agent. It was to Harry Logan.
When he told the retired detective what had happened, what he was being accused of, Harry took charge. “Just sit tight, Zack. Don’t call anyone yet. I’m going to have Nick Granger check into things and run a little interference.”
Zack didn’t know Nick very well, just that he was a detective, Harry’s son-in-law and one of Logan’s Heroes. “What do you think Nick can do?”
“He can probably help rule you out before anyone down at the Department of Corrections hears anything.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Listen, Martha Ashton rarely leaves church until well after noon. And you were at the Tanners’ house by then.”
“After that, Emily and I went by Burger Bob’s, and I’ve got a receipt. Then we went by to see my grandmother at the rest home. She’ll testify to that. Other than Emily, I don’t think anyone can verify that we were at the tide pools, but I’d rather not put my daughter through any questioning.”
“Slow down, Zack. I know you’re stressed about this, and rightly so. But let’s see what Nick has to say first.”
“All right.”
“Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to come by?”
“I’ll be fine, Harry. Thanks for going to bat for me. I sure appreciate it.”
“No problem, son.”
When the line disconnected, Zack held the receiver for a while, amazed that Harry would stand by him—no questions asked.
No one had ever done that for Zack before.
Except Diana. She’d offered to stick by him, even if he pulled her down, too.
She loved him.
And he’d had to walk away.
It had just about ripped out Zack’s heart to see her cry, to know he’d been responsible for her pain.
But any kind of relationship with him would only bring her shame and disappointment. And the sooner she realized that, the better off she’d be.
Every time there was a theft or another crime, he’d always be the first suspect.
And as much as he loved her, as thrilled as he was to know she loved him, too, he couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t put her in the position of always having to defend him. Not when a critical father and an idiot husband had made her struggle with having to defend herself, too.
So he’d done what needed to be done. He’d let her go.
It was better that way.
Now he sat in the recliner he’d bought a few months back, holding the television remote and channel surfing. But nothing seemed to catch his attention.
He just kept thinking about the agents who would toss his place apart, looking for something to tie him to the theft.
They wouldn’t find it, though.
Zack had done a lot of things in his life, things he regretted, now that he was older and wiser. But he’d never taken anything that didn’t belong to him. It was one of the lessons his grandmother had taught him, and it had stuck.
After he talked to Harry, he’d called Caitlin, telling her that he was going to cut his visits with Emily for a while. No need to put his little girl through anything, especially the shitty mood this mess had left him in.
The phone rang, jarring his thoughts. He had half a mind to let the answering machine pick up, but he snatched the receiver anyway. “Hello.”
“Zack,” a child’s voice said, “it’s me, Becky.”
The ever-so-slight connection to Diana made his heart skip a beat. He gripped the receiver tight, the kid’s call making him a bit unbalanced. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Jessie and I want to know why you didn’t come and pick us up from the bus, like you were supposed to. And why you aren’t going to come over anymore.”
Apparently, Diana had told them things were over between them.
Good.
So what was this about?
He doubted Diana had put them up to it. “Does your mom know you’re calling me?”
“No. She’s outside. And she won’t tell us what’s wrong. Her eyes are really red, like she’s been crying for a hundred years. She said she wasn’t sad, but I know that’s a lie.”
“And she never lies,” Jessie said in the background. “Not ever.”
Becky sniffled again.
Damn.
Couldn’t Diana have explained this to them any better? Or at least shouldn’t she be comforting them or something? Hell, he didn’t know what adults were supposed to do when kids cried. “Why is your mom outside?”
“She’s—” the child sucked in a wet, weepy gasp-like sound “—she’s talking to a policeman on the front porch.
She’s telling him stuff about you.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“She’s telling him that she loves you and believes in you. That kind of stuff.”
He’d told her things were over between them, told her that he didn’t want to drag her and the kids down with him. And she was getting involved in his mess anyway?
Her devotion boggled his mind, pleasing him as well as frustrating the hell out of him.
When he’d left her house earlier, he’d heard the door slam. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know she was angry with him.
“So how come you made our mom cry?” Becky asked. “Sticking up for you and everything. I mean, she’s a really cool person. And she loves you.”
And he loved her, too. But he couldn’t go over there now. Not when Harry had told him to sit tight. And not when he knew showing up at Diana’s would only complicate her life.
“I’m sorry your mom is crying. But I can’t do anything about that tonight.”
He couldn’t put her and the girls at risk.
Diana slept like hell on Sunday night, tossing and turning and missing Zack. She’d been mad at him, too. Angry at him for not believing she loved him enough to weather whatever life threw their way.
But nevertheless, she went through the motions of getting dressed for work, fixing breakfast for the girls.
Her day at the church office had been pretty routine, and when Reverend Morton left for a meeting with the interfaith council, she was alone.
As she replaced the ink cartridge on the printer, the office door swung open, and Martha entered.
Diana’s stomach clenched, but she managed a smile. “Hello.”
“I wanted you to know that the police dusted my house for prints. They found some that didn’t belong to me.”
Diana didn’t respond.
“But they didn’t belong to Zack, either. That nice detective, Nick Granger, came by personally to let me know.”
A sense of relief fluttered over Diana. Not that she thought the prints would match, but that Martha had finally acknowledged Zack might not be guilty.
“You were right all along,” Martha said. “And I’m sorry for stirring things up, for believing the worst of your friend. I really do try to give people second chances. But I worry sometimes. And I probably should stop reading the newspaper. There’s so much evil in this world. And living alone, well…I…”
Diana stood, walked around her desk and gave the older woman a hug, willing herself to forgive her well-meaning friend, even if she’d jumped to conclusions that had caused severe repercussions for a man who’d been wrongfully accused of yet another crime.
A man Diana loved with all her heart.
The powdery scent of gardenia filled the air, as Martha held her close. “I’m so sorry.”
“I accept your apology, Martha. But I think it needs to be directed to Zack.”
The older woman nodded. “You’re right. Perhaps, if he’s at your house this evening, I can come over and tell him myself.”
“That’s a good idea. But I’m not sure if he’ll be by tonight.”
Or ever.
Diana’s heart clenched at the realization that Zack might never come by again. His reasons for ending things between them went beyond this one false accusation.
“Well,” Martha said, “I’d better go home. I’m expecting the plumber this afternoon between two and four. A pipe under the sink is leaking.”
Diana placed a hand on Martha’s back. “Thank you for coming to talk to me. I appreciate your friendship.”
Martha nodded, then left.
A couple of hours later, when it was almost time to go home, the telephone rang.
“Good afternoon,” Diana answered. “Park Avenue Community Church.”
“Mom,” Becky said, “I just wanted to tell you that me and Jessie are at Mrs. Ashton’s house. And you’ll never guess what happened.”
“What?”
“Megan’s in big trouble. And I’m the hero. Kind of.”
“What are you talking about?” Diana asked.
“I saw her in your bedroom going through your underwear. You know, in that drawer where you have that little pouch with money in it?”
Yes, Diana kept some cash hidden away in case of emergency. “She was in my room and going through my things?”
“Yeah. And guess what? I saw her put the money in her pocket.”
Had Becky confronted her? “Then what happened?”
“I took Jessie with me and went and told Mrs. Ashton, because I thought that if Megan would steal money from us, she would probably steal money from God.”
Wow. Diana sat back in her desk chair.
“And then guess what happened,” Becky said.
Diana wasn’t in the mood for guessing games. “Suppose you just tell me or let me speak to Martha.”
“Okay, then I’ll tell you,” the girl said proudly. “Mrs. Ashton went to our house and asked to see what Megan had in her pockets. Megan started crying, and then Mrs. Ashton called Megan’s parents.”
“Did she admit to stealing the church offering, too?”
“Uh-huh. And after her mom and dad got done yelling at her, they walked her home. And when they came back, they gave Mrs. Ashton all the checks that were written to the church. But the money was already spent. So Megan’s mom said they were going to make resta…resti…”
“Restitution?”
“Yeah, that’s it. She’s going to make Megan pay every penny of it back.”
“What’s Mrs. Ashton doing now?” Diana asked. “Can she come to the phone?”
“I don’t think so. She’s still talking to the policeman.”
“Maybe you can have her call me when she’s finished,” Diana said.
“Okay.”
“Thanks for letting me know, Becky. I’m sorry to hear that Megan would do something like that. And I’m sure her parents are heartsick over it.”
Diana hung up the phone, heartsick herself.
And not at all sure what, if anything, she could do about it.
Zack had no more than gotten in from work when the telephone rang. He snatched the receiver, hoping it was Harry with news about how the investigation was going. “Hello.”
“It’s me.”
Diana’s voice slid over him like a balm, like a cool drink of water on a hot summer day, and his heart took a flying leap.
“I just wanted to let you know the money has been recovered,” she said. “And Martha realizes that she owes you an apology.”
He supposed that ought to make him feel better, but the future would just bring about other suspicions, other accusations.
Still, curiosity niggled at him.
“Who stole it?” he asked.
“Megan.”
The teenage girl who baby-sat for Jessie and Becky? He couldn’t say that he was completely surprised.
“I’d sensed she was rebelling and acting out,” Diana explained. “But I didn’t realize how far she’d gone. Reverend Morton suggested family counseling. Hopefully, her parents will agree. They’ve been too strict with her, and that may be part of the trouble.”
The line went silent, and he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. He ought to thank her and let it go, he supposed. But he wasn’t ready to cut the stilted conversation short.
“I thought you’d want to know,” she added.
“Thanks. I appreciate you calling.” Again, words failed him, as he struggled for a response. So he opted for something generic and free of the emotions tangling in his chest. “I guess that means you’ll need a new sitter.”
“Not really. Martha volunteered to help out until school starts in a couple of weeks.”
“I’m glad things are working out for you.”
“Are they?”
The silence ripped into him, tearing him to bits. But he couldn’t give her what she needed. And he was afraid to even try.
“I love you, Zack. But I won’t beg.”
Then th
e line disconnected, leaving her words to echo in his heart.
He sat immobile in the recliner for a while, with the receiver still dangling in his hand. Finally, he came to his senses and hung up.
The rest of the evening was a blur. He’d fixed a TV dinner that tasted like crap. And then he’d opened a can of beer that seemed to go flat with each swig he took. He’d turned on the TV hoping to find a mental distraction, but there wasn’t a damn thing that interested him.
All he could think about was Diana—her smile, her laugh.
Her hope.
She seemed to believe that love was enough.
But was it?
Several hours later, Zack stood on Diana’s darkened front porch and rang the bell.
He ought to feel guilty coming here at this hour, waking her after midnight.
But he didn’t.
As far as he could see, there hadn’t been any way around a nighttime visit. He knew because he’d tried to talk himself out of it for the past hour.
Diana peered through the peephole before opening the door, her body blocking the threshold.
She wore her faded blue robe and a somber expression that turned his heart on end. Becky had been right about her eyes. They looked like hell.
And he was the one to blame.
There didn’t seem to be an easy way through this, other than to stumble and fumble and lay open his heart.
“I hope it’s not too late,” he said. “But I need to talk to you, and it couldn’t wait until morning.”
“Sure,” she said, letting him in.
She didn’t offer him a seat, and he didn’t take one. He figured he was too fidgety, too eager to get things off his chest and out in the open.
“I’m having second thoughts,” he told her. “About love not being enough.”
Something flickered in her eyes, yet she didn’t speak, didn’t help him wade through the emotions he’d been dealing with all evening.
“So the choice is yours,” he told her.
“What choice is that, Zack?”
He shrugged, thinking it should have been as obvious to her as it was to him. “Deciding whether or not you want to take a gamble on me and try to make a life together. A home.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t understand. I don’t have a choice at all. My love won’t allow me to step aside or turn my back on you—no matter what the future brings.”
