The Runaway Pastor's Wife

by Diane Moody

“That’s just it. She doesn’t want to tell me where she is because she knows I’d try to find her, and she’s right. It’s killing me to sit around here when I know she needs me. I can’t stand this! But she made it very clear that she needed some time away all to herself. Like it was something she had to do. And as much as I want to go to her, I don’t seem to have much choice.”

  Max jumped up. “I don’t believe this! You mean to tell me she just took off? Why was she so upset? I mean, c’mon—maybe it gets a little nuts around here at times, but hey, we survive!” He stopped, looking directly at his father. He paused a moment. “Dad, are you and Mom having problems? I mean, has something happened between you guys? You don’t think she—”

  “No Max, don’t even think like that. We’re fine.” He stopped, locking eyes with his son. “Well, at least I thought we were fine. I had no idea. That is, I didn’t know she was—”

  “Dad?” Max stiffened. “What are you trying to say?”

  David began pacing, rubbing his hands together again. “I’m never home. I know that. Of course I know that! It’s just the way it is. There’s always too much to do, and never enough time and never enough help and—” He stopped, searching for Max’s eyes again. He dropped his shoulders. “Who am I trying to fool? She’s absolutely right. I’m never home. I’m never here for my family. I’ve been so blind . . . such a blind fool.” He fell onto the sofa.

  “So she left because of you? Is that what you’re telling me?” Max asked quietly. The expression on his face daggered David’s soul.

  “Max, what I’m telling you is that she needed a break. She needed time to herself. She’s upset with me, she’s tired of the rat race, tired of all the stuff that goes on at church . . . But mostly, tired of having to do it all herself.” He stared at the floor. “I’ve blown it. I pushed her away and now she’s gone.”

  “But she’s coming back, right? She didn’t just pack up and leave for good, did she?”

  David heard the panic in his son’s voice. “No. No, it’s only for a while. She’ll be back. I don’t know when, but she’ll be back. As mad at she may be at me, or whatever else is bugging her, I know Annie. She would never walk away from us like that. Trust me, son.” He tried to smile. “I promise she’ll be back.”

  Max sat still, frozen in thought, his eyes searching those of his father. David could tell from the seriousness registered in his eyes that his son’s thoughts were running in a thousand directions. “Everything is going to work out okay, Max. We just need to give her some space right now. You know, like a chance to emotionally catch her breath, I guess you could say. She’s probably very, very tired and needs a vacation, that’s all. What we all need to do is pray for her. Ask God to help her get some rest, clear her mind. Restore her energy.”

  He paused. “And try to find it in her heart to forgive me.” David swallowed hard. “Then before you know it, she’ll be back home and back to her same old self.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah, I really think so.” He knew he had to reassure his son that the situation wasn’t as bad as it seemed. He was also suddenly very restless. “Hey, have you got a lot of homework or do you have time for a little one-on-one hoop?”

  “Are you kidding? The homework can wait. Let’s do it. I’ll clean your clock, old man!”

  Eagle’s Nest

  As if emerging from a time capsule, Annie suddenly noticed her surroundings. It was dark outside. The hands on the grandfather clock clicked into place and the chimes rang their announcement. Six-thirty.

  I can’t believe it. Where did the day go? She shook off the doom surrounding her and made her way into the kitchen. At some point in her emotional rounds she had evidently turned off the burner beneath the pot of chili. Realizing her hunger, she dished up a bowl and put it in the microwave.

  And then she remembered. She needed to call David. Despite everything else, she would not make him worry.

  Annie pressed each number on the phone then hesitated. She hung up the receiver. You can’t call home like this. Get a hold of yourself. It will only make matters worse and upset David even more if he hears you in this state of mind.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She put another log on the fire before sitting back down. A few moments later, she gently touched the numbers on the phone.

  Annie was surprised to hear her own voice responding on the other end of the line.

  “. . . and if you will leave your name and number at the sound of the tone, we’ll be more than happy to call you back. Thank you and God bless you today.” Beep.

  “David? It’s Annie. I . . .” She paused, unsure what sort of message to leave. “Well, I just wanted to check in. I’m fine. Really. I’m okay. Give my love to Max and Jeremy and Jessica. And please thank Caroline again for me.”

  She rolled her eyes to keep them from tearing. “I guess that’s all. I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”

  It was just as well. David would have picked up on her frustration in a heartbeat.

  Seminole, Florida

  “Oh no,” Caroline sighed. She had stepped outside only for a moment to deposit the empty milk carton into the recycle bin. As she walked back into the kitchen she noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine.

  Jeremy slid across the kitchen floor in his gym socks toward the refrigerator at full speed. “Hey, Gran. Who called?”

  “What do you mean who called? Why didn’t you answer it?”

  “Me and Jessie are watching TV and I figured you’d probably get it,” he answered casually, pouring himself a tumbler full of orange juice.

  “Jessie and I. And why aren’t you two in bed yet?” Caroline asked.

  “’Cause Jessie and I are watching a movie. Can I have some popcorn?”

  “No, Jeremy, you can’t have any popcorn. I want you to march out there, turn off that television, and you and your sister go to bed. Right this minute!”

  As her grandson flew out of the room just as he’d entered it, Caroline replayed the message on the machine. After another post-dinner game of basketball, David and Max emerged through the back door just as Annie’s message was ending. The expression on David’s face said it all.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” Caroline apologized. “I stepped outside for just a moment and the kids assumed one of us answered it.”

  “That’s okay, Mom.” He gave her a passing hug and made his way upstairs.

  “Is he okay?” she asked Max.

  “About as okay as the rest of us, I guess. I gotta get back to my homework. G’night, Gran.” Max kissed her cheek and followed his father up the stairs.

  “Why isn’t that at all comforting?” she mumbled.

  CHAPTER 10

  Houston, Texas

  “No, Amelia, I haven’t heard from him either,” Michael’s executive secretary responded. “He called in after his golf game at the club yesterday and said he wouldn’t be in the office until today, but that’s all I know. If he checks in, shall I have him call you?”

  Amelia Dean tapped perfectly manicured nails on her desk. “Oh, Jane, I don’t mean to be a pest. I just need a quick answer from him on this fundraiser and I haven’t had any luck tracking him down on his cell phone. But sure, go ahead and have him call me if you hear from him. I’d appreciate that.”

  “No problem, Amelia. Happy to help.”

  “Thanks, Jane.”

  How embarrassing. Amelia couldn’t decide if she was more embarrassed, worried, or just plain angry with her elusive husband. In the wee hours of the morning, she had glanced at the clock when Michael finally came home. It was 4:00 a.m. Before her thoughts could accelerate down the usual irritating path, she had rolled over, retreating into the familiar escape of slumber.

  When the alarm sounded at 7:00, she had awakened to find Michael’s side of the bed undisturbed. There was the usual evidence that he had indeed been home—a towel on the floor in the bathroom, his dirty clothes lying on the floor of his clos
et. Downstairs she had found the remnants of an early breakfast. He had left out the tub of margarine and peach preserves and an empty carton of creamer. Shaking her head, she had switched off the coffee maker. Fortunately there had been enough coffee left so it didn’t burn to the bottom of the carafe.

  Where are you, Michael?

  She had blinked away the tears that stung her eyes and busied herself picking up the dishes. Even though Eva would be there any moment to begin her housecleaning duties, Amelia knew she had to stay occupied if she was to fight another bout of depression.

  Now, several hours later, she absorbed herself in the plans for the upcoming Evening of Stars, the fundraiser for the Democratic Party of Houston. Michael had been a tremendous help in years past as he used his influence in the sports world to draw many of the biggest names to appear. But this year he had been impossible. He continually made promises to contact the various athletic stars he knew so well only to forget and promise again. The deadline for print advertising was approaching. Amelia had to produce a list of names to the committee.

  But as was always the case, any frustration or anger she felt toward Michael would eventually dissipate into the familiar pangs of her breaking heart. She had never stopped adoring him, her charming and intelligent husband. She had loved him from the moment they first met. He had brought such joy and laughter into her life.

  Oh Michael, what’s happened to us?

  “Congressman, Michael Dean on line one.”

  “Thank you, Helen.” Elliot Thomas punched the flashing button on his phone, then leaned back in his chair. “Well, Michael, I was about to give up on you. Thought you’d decided to throw in the towel.”

  “Hardly, Elliot. We need to talk.”

  Elliot chewed on his unlit pipe. “I’m all ears, son. Give it your best shot.”

  “Not on the phone. And this time it’s just you and me. We don’t need your little entourage of muscle. After all, this is a family matter. At least out of respect for Amelia, we should be able to handle this one on one.”

  Elliot sat up to his desk. “Now that’s pretty funny coming from you, Michael,” he laughed. “‘Respect’,” he chuckled. “Yessir, that’s a good one.”

  “Elliot, I’m on my way to your office. I’ll be there in ten minutes. I suggest you be ready to go. Meet me downstairs in the garage.”

  He was answered with a sarcastic guffaw. “You really are a comedian, Michael. You think you can just ring me up and snap out orders when you—”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” Michael interrupted. “You played hard ball with me yesterday—today it’s my turn. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Click.

  Precisely ten minutes later Michael pulled out of the parking garage with the congressman riding in his passenger seat. He joined the flow of traffic and adjusted his rear view mirror.

  “So how do you like playing the big shot, Michael? I’ll bet it makes you feel pretty good barking out orders at me, doesn’t it? And I’ll bet you didn’t really expect me to oblige you on this one, did you?” Elliot shifted his ample body to better face his son-in-law.

  Michael’s eyes stayed glued to the traffic surrounding him. “You’re right. I didn’t expect you to come along without a fight.”

  Elliot laughed again, that wheezy, good ol’ boy laugh Michael despised.

  “Well sir, I don’t take much to being ordered around, of course. But in your case I made an exception. Your little teaser yesterday has got me right curious. So tell me. What is this surprise you have up your sleeve?”

  “Ah, looks like you’re gonna have to wait a few more minutes for that one,” Michael answered, his glare intent on the review mirror. “I do believe we have a little tail to get rid of first.”

  Elliot jerked his head around to look behind them. Michael stole a quick glance sideways just in time to see a fleeting grimace that swept across his father-in-law’s face.

  “Michael, I think you must be seeing things. There’s no one following us.”

  “Uh-huh . . .” Michael sped up, taking a sharp turn to the right. He raced through the crowded streets, making a series of breakneck turns, throwing Elliot from side to side against the strain of his seatbelt.

  “Are you trying to get us killed? Stop this car! Stop it this minute!”

  But Michael was too close to losing Elliot’s brute squad to stop now. He flew through a corner parking lot and into a narrow alley. The alley emptied onto the approach ramp to the interstate. Within minutes, his sleek black Escalade was racing along the expressway toward the wide open plains, away from the sprawling metropolitan heart of Houston. Elliot turned completely around, no doubt hoping to find his backup.

  “All right, all right. So you can outmaneuver my boys. Big deal. Now just pull this car over and stop all these theatrics. I’ve had enough of your games. Pull over!”

  “What’s the matter, Elliot? Afraid of having a little fun? Don’t tell me you’re gonna go chicken on me just because you don’t have your body guards protecting you?” Now it was Michael’s turn to laugh. “Oh, I wish you could see yourself. Where’s that rock solid self-confidence? Where’s the cockiness? Hmm?”

  Later, as Michael exited the interstate, Elliot pulled out his monogrammed handkerchief and wiped his brow. “I suggest you get to the point. My boys will have the police out here in a matter of minutes, so whatever you have to say, spit it out.”

  “You know, you are absolutely pitiful.” Michael pulled into a secluded area surrounded by a thick stand of trees and bushes. “When it’s just you, just plain ol’ Elliot Thomas, without your goons or assistants or mindless constituents, you are flat-out pathetic. All you can do is threaten to call your boys, threaten to have the entire Houston police force out looking for poor, helpless you. I sure hope Amelia has never seen you like this. It would ruin her perfect image of dear Daddy.”

  “Just shut up and get on with it.”

  “Fine.” Michael stomped the brake, forcing a short skid in the dry Texas dirt and gravel. He put the car in park and turned off the ignition. “There’s no way you’re going to steal my company from me,” he stated without emotion. “I’ve made sure of that. We just need to work out the details so there’s no misunderstanding between us.”

  Once again Eliot’s sarcasm prevailed. “Oh yes. And I’m sure you have all the answers. So, just how do you propose to keep your little company?”

  Michael raised his head, looking Elliot straight in the eye. “Easy. I have a file of some valuable information that I’m pretty sure you’ll want to keep confidential. Phone records, photographs . . . Yesterday you tried to blackmail me. Today it’s my turn.”

  “Well now, I believe you’re confused. I believe I’m the one with a rather large file on you. Concerning certain of your ‘indiscretions?’ Must we go over all this again?”

  Michael hoped his laugh didn’t betray his anxiety. “Oh, I’m not confused at all. Fact is, I have a file of my own. I’ve tucked it away in a very secure place. And I have no intention of making it public unless you force me to do so. It’s strictly up to you. However, in the event anything should ‘accidentally’ happen to me, I have given explicit instructions for that file to be released to the proper authorities.” Poker face. Don’t let him see you’re bluffing.

  “What in tarnation are you talking about?”

  Michael took a deep breath. Though the late afternoon breeze drifting through his open window was cool, he felt the perspiration under his shirt. Here we go, Dean. Better make this good.

  “Christopher Jordan.”

  With eyes locked, the silence beat between them. For a split second, the tiny muscles around Elliot’s eyes flinched. Then just as abruptly, the wall of steel returned to his glare. The game continued.

  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  Michael threw his head back against the headrest. “C’mon, Elliot. You know exactly what it means. It means a hunting trip back in 1992.” He paused for effect. “It means you and Duke
should be more careful when you get drunk.”

  “And I suppose this is where I’m supposed to act shocked and appalled and fall all over myself. But the problem is—I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Michael pressed on. “Oh, you remember the news reports. Christopher Jordan, out in the gulf relaxing on his boat. Suddenly, a deadly explosion blow him to bits. Is this sounding at all familiar? There was hardly anything left by the time the Coast Guard happened onto the scene. It was dismissed as a freak accident. A ‘faulty gas tank.’ But it was no accident, was it? That night in the cabin near Natchitoches, you and Duke were pretty careless in your conversation. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as soundly asleep as you thought.”

  The stare down continued. “So you figure to try to hang me somehow with Jordan’s unfortunate demise. Think you can peg me with that one, do you? That should be mighty interesting, Michael. If it wasn’t so ludicrous, it would be downright comical. But you and I both know you haven’t got a leg to stand on.”

  “No?” Michael questioned, his eyebrows arched in mock dismay. He paused, gathering his courage despite the growing knot in his stomach. He also hoped to give Elliot time to squirm. “Does this ring any bells? ‘My Jordan lies over the ocean,’” he sang quietly. “‘My Jordan lies over the sea.’”

  Elliot stared straight ahead into the dusk enveloping the SUV. His teeth were clenched, his jaw throbbing rhythmically. He spoke not a word.

  Good. A crack in the ice, thought Michael. He continued the concert. “‘My Jordan lies ALL over the o—’”

  “That’s enough,” Elliot growled in an eerie hush. He moved cautiously, slowly turning to face Michael. “Now you listen to me, boy. I don’t care what kind of so-called evidence you think you have on me. You’ll never prove I had anything to do with that explosion. And just in case you’re tempted to parade your little pack of lies out in public, you best remember who you’re dealing with. Do I make myself clear?”