Claudie had balked at the idea of meeting in such a busy locale, but Bo had convinced her the location worked to her benefit. “Midweek. Midafternoon. It won’t be that busy. Besides, we want people around. He’s got a reputation to protect. He can’t afford to lose his temper in such a public place.”
She’d been tempted to argue that the more people present meant more witnesses if she went bonkers and wound up killing her stepfather with her bare hands, but she knew Bo would protect her from her own demons as well as Garret’s.
Matt drove. Claudie chose to sit in the back seat. She tried to focus on the rolling landscape, picturing it in spring—her mother’s favorite season. The trees would have made lush green ribbons that followed the contours of the creeks and hollows. Farmers would have turned the rich black earth and started planting corn or soybeans.
“Are you doing okay?” Bo asked solicitously. He’d been so kind, so patient. She’d never known a man like him before.
“I’m fine.”
He cleared his throat and looked at Matt. “You know, Claudie, Matt has a lot more information about Anders than what we told you. It was my call. Your issues haven’t changed even if Anders has. But I could brief you more thoroughly if you’d rather know.”
What could Bo tell her? That Garret was a different person than he was ten years ago? So was she, but that didn’t alter what he’d done to her.
“No thanks. This is about the past, not the present.”
Matt turned toward a large, brightly hued building that hadn’t been there when Claudie lived in the area. He pulled under the massive porte cochere so she and Bo could get out. He would park and join them once Garret arrived. A blue-uniformed giant with a broad smile opened the door for her. Bo’s hand at the small of her back kept Claudie from barreling in the other direction.
Noise and bright lights bombarded her overly acute senses; the acrid smell of cigarette smoke provoked a wave of nausea. “I need to use the rest room.”
As if anticipating her panic, Bo led her to the appropriate door. “I’ll wait right here.”
Knowing Bo was waiting helped calm her nerves. She washed her hands and dried them, then touched up her lipstick. She looked in the mirror and wondered what Garret would see when he looked at her.
The plan was for Matt to meet Garret at the door and lead him to an alcove where hopefully only one or two gamblers would be. I can do this, she told herself and walked out to join Bo.
“He’s here. Matt just gave me the sign. Do you want Matt to bring him over to you or would you prefer to join him and Matt in a few minutes?”
“Let Matt bring him.”
Her heart was pounding so loud she barely heard the chatter of gamblers, the whir and spin of machines, the music piped over a loudspeaker.
“We’re in luck. Nobody’s close by. Matt and I will make sure the place stays that way,” he said, his tone forbidding.
She squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “Thanks. I don’t think I could have gone through with this without you.”
His smile made a funny knot form in her throat. He leaned close enough to whisper. “I know. It’s because you love me, but don’t tell anybody. It’s a secret.”
His impish grin made tears prick behind her eyes. She pushed him away. “Such ego,” she tried to mutter, but even to her ears it came out like a caress.
His smile widened, but only for a second, then his game face fell into place. “Show time,” he said under his breath.
Claudie spotted Matt, but she didn’t recognize the man at his side. Her first thought was disappointment—Garret had sent someone else in his place, and there was a woman with him, too. Claudie glanced at Matt and saw him make a gesture with his hands that seemed to say, “Your call.”
Claudie started to turn away when a voice from her past said, “Claudine?”
She spun around, bracing for an attack. Garret. Her arch nemesis. The man opposite her looked old. Gaunt and gray, his legs seemed to give out. He might have crumpled to the ground if not for the support of his companion. “What’s this?” the woman asked, helping Garret to a nearby stool. “Is it who I think it is? Can it be Claudie? Praise the Lord, it is.”
Her odd way of answering her own questions made Claudie forget this wasn’t the way she’d planned the scene.
The woman bussed the man’s almost bald pate and exclaimed, “Garret, honey, our prayers have been answered.”
Claudie looked at Bo, and they both said, “Prayers?”
“Yes,” Garret said his voice sounding stronger than his body suggested. “As Dottie knows, ever since I was diagnosed with cancer five years ago, I’ve prayed every day that I would have a chance to see you once more before I die.”
An unexpected jolt from his simple, matter-of-fact statement made Claudie step backward. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” the woman said, reaching out imploringly. “He’s not contagious. Started in the prostate but by the time they found it, it’d spread to the bone. Ain’t no stoppin’ it now.”
“Who are you?” Claudie asked, unable to help herself.
“His wife,” she said, with a beatific smile. “My name’s Dottie. We’ve been together nine years.”
A year after I left. A year after he ruined my life. “Did you know you married a rapist?” Claudie asked, the spite in her tone nearly choking her.
“It’s the first thing he told me,” Dottie said. Her large gray eyes seemed full of sympathy. “You poor girl. I used to work in a hospital and I saw rape victims come in all the time. My heart would just break in two.”
“Then how could you bring yourself to marry somebody like him?” She pointed to where Garret sat—his skeletal frame outlined by the neon aura of a nickel slot machine.
“I forgave him,” Dottie said simply. “That’s what you do when someone makes a mistake—even the most awful mistake in the world. If that person truly regrets it and he gives his life to God, what else can you do?”
Claudie could think of a dozen things—all hideous and painful. “Well, that’s easy for you to say. You weren’t the one raped.”
“No. Not by Garret. But my first husband raped me—right before he took a gun and killed our three-year-old baby girl then turned it on himself. He told me that was my punishment for not being a better wife.”
Dottie dropped her chin; tears fell on the carpet like fat raindrops. Garret reached out and took her hand in a gesture of comfort. He slowly rose and advanced two steps closer to Claudie. She felt Bo edge beside her. “Claudie, girl, I accept your hate. I deserve it and I’m not looking for your forgiveness—not for myself, anyway. The Lord knows what I did and why. My anger at losing the woman I loved more than life and knowing I was to blame for her death consumed me like a fire. Even before your mother died, I was a poor excuse for a father, but from the day of Peggy’s funeral, I went crazy and drank myself stupid. Instead of easing my pain, it stoked it until I wanted to hurt somebody else as much as I hurt.”
Claudie backed up, trying to block the memories that stalked her like a panther on the prowl. “I was in the kitchen putting away some food the neighbors had brought. More charity.” Her voice sounded miles away.
“Yep. Everybody in town knew I’d lost my job and the bank was getting ready to foreclose. I was mad about that, too. Poor pitiful me. Alone with five kids to raise.” He paused, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “I came home that night and there you were. Mad as a hornet about missing some dance.”
He ran a hand over his face, as if washing away a film. “That’s when I did the most despicable thing anyone can do to another human being short of murder. And in truth, I killed something inside you that night. I saw the light go out in your eyes before you ran away to your teacher’s house. I wasn’t just a rapist, Claudie, I was a murderer. First your mom, then the part of her that was in you—the sweet, loving part.”
He broke down, weeping like a child. Dottie comforted him and helped him back to the stool. For a reason that made no sense to her, C
laudie almost wished she could tell him it was okay. But it wasn’t okay. He’d ruined her life, and he deserved the hell, the cancer and pain he had to endure. She only wished it would last longer.
“I didn’t come to hear your apologies or excuses or whatever this is. Nothing you say can make up for what you did and what I became because of you. I’m here because I want to make sure you don’t ruin another girl’s life the way you did mine.”
Garret looked at Dottie. Their mutual confusion angered her. “Sherry,” she hissed. “My sister is almost seventeen. That’s how old I was when you—”
Dottie gasped as if she’d heard pure blasphemy. “You can’t possibly think Garret would hurt Sherry. Oh, goodness, child, no. You’re so wrong. No.”
Claudie scowled at her. “Why should I believe you? He—”
Garret seemed to rally strength from some deep source. He stepped forward, more the man she remembered and feared. “What I did to you was the last scene in a black chapter of my life, Claudie. At first, I tried to pretend to myself it never happened, but God doesn’t work that way. When you told that teacher about what I did, and all hell broke loose, I lied and said you made it up. I was prepared to fight it in court. I cleaned up my act and put on a nice show for the judge.
“But when you disappeared, the truth of what I had done came back to haunt me. Less than a month after you left I ran straight into a brick wall. Literally.”
Claudie was struck mute by the honesty she heard in his voice, and something else she couldn’t define. Remorse? Salvation?
“I crashed the car, and to be honest I don’t know if it was on purpose or an accident. Paramedics had to use the Jaws of Life to get me out, but I was awake long enough to tell them not to bother. I didn’t want to go on living. And I died on the way to the hospital.”
Claudie looked at Bo, who nodded. He knew about this.
Dottie took over the narrative. “I was on duty when they brought him in. That’s how we met.” She lowered her chin and said, seriously, “Now, I’m going to tell you something you probably won’t believe, but it’s God’s honest truth. I saw an angel come to Garret and breathe him back to life.”
“Breathe him…?” Claudie repeated.
“A white figure—it was glowing and kinda fuzzylike so I knew it wasn’t another nurse. It leaned down and put its face close to Garret’s and the next second he was breathing. I swear on all that’s holy.”
Garret nodded his confirmation. “I was dead, then I was alive. All I know for sure is that when I was dead I saw my life for what it was—a barren desert of my own making. My soul was black and shriveled like a dead bug. I’d wasted my chance at love. My greed killed my darling Peggy. It killed the child in you. And it killed me.”
“You look fairly alive to me,” Claudie said, trying her best to stay unmoved by his confession.
“God gave me a second chance. A chance to change. And I did.”
Dottie took a step closer and clasped Claudie’s hand with an exuberant cry that made Claudie shrink back. “It’s true, Claudie. I witnessed it with my own eyes. He was hurt real bad, and the doctors said he’d never walk, but he did. The lawyers told him not to bother fighting for custody of his kids, but he did and he got Sherry. Valery didn’t want anything to do with him, so he let her go to the family she wanted. The boys could have come home but chose to go out in the world instead. You were the only one we never could find.”
Claudie yanked her hand free. “Well, I’m here now, but I don’t know how much of this I believe. And even if it’s true, I don’t really care that you’re reformed and holy and all that crap. I still wasted ten years of my life selling my body for nickels and dimes because you made me believe that’s all I was worth.”
Garret swayed. Bo rushed forward. “Do you need a drink of water?” he asked.
Garret nodded. Bo motioned to Matt who slipped away into the casino. Hunched like a wizened gnome, Garret said, “I feared that might happen, Claudie. I saw a therapist regularly for two years. He helped me come to grips with my anger—a product, we learned, of my foster father’s somewhat psychopathic benevolence.” His rueful chuckle sent a chill down her spine. “My therapist told me that prostitution was one trap you might fall into given the abuse—verbal, emotional and physical—I’d inflicted on you over the years.”
His frank assessment of his behavior seemed too staged to be true. Until she looked into his eyes. The man behind those eyes was in pain. Not the physical pain of cancer but emotional pain caused by guilt and regret.
“He told me rape is an act of violence. I took my self-loathing out on you, Claudine—the child I’d envied for sixteen years.”
“Envied?”
“Dear girl, you alone had the one thing I desired more than anything—my sweet Peggy’s love. Oh, I know she cared for me, and she proved it by giving me six wonderful children. But I wanted her love. The love she felt for the boy who was your father. Unfortunately, it took her death—and mine—to understand she’d loved me the best she could.”
Claudie’s breath caught in her throat; an ache started behind her eyes.
“I’d sell my soul to take it back—to change what happened, Claudie, but that’s not the way God works,” he said, his sad eyes boring into her. “I was given a second chance, and I used it to be a good father to Sherry. And I think I can honestly say I accomplished that.”
Dottie nodded with verve. “That he did. You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe us.”
Claudie’s mouth was too dry to speak. Fortunately, Matt arrived with a tray of glasses. She guzzled one. Garret took two small sips and handed it back. “Thank you, Matthew,” he said politely.
Then he looked at Bo and said, “We haven’t been introduced. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”
Bo put out his hand. “Bo Lester.”
Claudie looked at Garret and his wife. “Bo and Matt are friends. They’re also private investigators. I ran across your Web page on the Internet, and they helped me—” The smile the couple exchanged made her ask, “What?”
Dottie answered. “The Web page was my idea. I told Garret you might get curious some day and come looking. I promised him I’d keep the page up and running even after he’s gone.” Her bottom lip trembled and Garret squeezed her hand. “We like to think his message is important to other lost souls, but we were really looking for you.”
Claudie didn’t like the way that made her feel. She resisted the softening she felt toward these people. “If I’d have wanted to find you sooner, I would have come looking.”
Dottie blinked in surprise. “But we only moved back here last year. Before that we took our ministry on the road.”
“How did Sherry go to school?” Bo asked, taking the words right out of Claudie’s mouth.
“Home schooling,” Garret said. “Dottie’s a wonderful teacher. Sherry is at the top of her class. She’s class president, you know,” he said with a father’s pride.
Suddenly Claudie was at a loss for words. She didn’t know where to go with her anger, her pain. She couldn’t use it to protect a girl who didn’t need protecting.
Bo interceded. “I’m sure Claudie would like to talk to her sister at some point, but right now I think we should go.”
Claudie didn’t resist when he took her elbow.
“Wait,” Garret said. “Just one more thing. Claudie, child, I was the worst father imaginable, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I did to you. But I pray—like I’ve prayed every day—you’ll find a way to forgive yourself.”
“For what?” she cried.
“For being human. For loving me as a child loves a father. For whatever it is that you think you’re to blame for. Let it go, dear girl. It wasn’t you. It was never you. You were the most wonderful daughter a man could ever hope for. You helped your mother without complaining. You took all the guff I had to give with spunk. You protected your brothers and practically raised Sherry those early years. None of what happened was y
our fault.”
Claudie would have sagged if not for Bo’s support. She fought the tears that blinded her. In her mind she could see that night. Her sadness, yet there was anger, too. She was tired of being his substitute wife. She wanted to go to the prom and he’d told her they couldn’t afford a dress, yet somehow there was money for booze. “If only I’d kept my mouth shut,” she said, not realizing the words were spoken aloud until Garret answered.
“If not that night, then some other. My rage was so great, it was just a matter of time.”
“But you called me a slut because I wanted to go to the prom with Darren. You said you knew we’d made love and I was a whore and you—”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember what I said, but I’m sure it was bad because I had to make you look bad so I could justify what I was doing to you. You were never that kind of girl, Claudie, and I knew it. If you and Darren experimented sexually, it was because you were looking for someone to love you. I’m just sorry you chose someone weak like Darren. He told the police about leaving you alone in Oklahoma.”
Dottie nodded sagely. “He’s been divorced twice and can’t keep a job. He’s a mama’s boy—always has been. You were his chance to escape but he didn’t have the gumption to go through with it.”
“You talked to Darren?” she asked.
Garret nodded. “So did the police. They put out a missing persons report and put up your picture all over the western states. We really wanted to find you.” Claudie looked at Bo. Was this the part he didn’t tell her about? Would it have made a difference if she’d known?
Garret went on. “Like I said, at first I denied what I did, but after my accident I called the police and told them the truth. A judge gave me probation and ordered counseling as part of my sentence. Dottie was the one who took care of Sherry until I regained custody.” He looked at his wife.
Short and round, dressed in her good, Sunday dress and sensible heels. Her scrubbed cheeks were ruddy in color, her cap of permed curls threaded with silver. “My second husband, Bill, passed away shortly after Sherry came to us,” she said. “A heart attack. He and I had been foster parents for ten years on account of I couldn’t have children. The authorities wanted to move her to another home, but I told them she was the angel sent to keep me from despair. And that she was.”
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