The Runaway Pastor's Wife

by Diane Moody

  “No, Daddy, you don’t know what it’s really like. He’s hardly ever home anymore and he never talks to me. It’s like he totally ignores my existence. I don’t know what to do anymore.” She cried into the receiver.

  His hand knotted into a fist. “Well, you just don’t worry your sweet little head, honey. Daddy’s gonna work it out for you. Just give it some time and I’m sure Michael will come back around. Maybe I can take some of the pressure off of him in his work. Daddy’ll take care of you. You’ll see.”

  She paused. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Good night, honey. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  Elliot sat back in his recliner. Encircled by the pleasing aroma of his cigar, he sat alone in the darkness of his study at home. The house was quiet. Only the urgent voices of panic deep in his soul kept him company. He stared at the telephone, willing it to ring with news of Michael Dean.

  Yes, honey, Daddy’s going to take care of your husband. Don’t you worry.

  Plainview, Texas

  The music on the radio blared as the brisk wind blew through Michael’s car. But even cold air and loud music could not compete with the fatigue overtaking him with each passing mile. He had been driving all night and knew he had to stop and get some sleep. It was a risk, but without a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep, he would never make his destination.

  Neon lights and billboards began multiplying as Michael neared the outskirts of Plainview, Texas. He searched for a small motel knowing the larger chain motels would require identification. He couldn’t take that chance. He had to find a small mom-and-pop place. He could live with a few bugs and a lumpy mattress. Then he spotted the sign:

  KINCAID’S KOTTAGES

  VACANCY

  He parked to the side of the main entrance, relieved to feel the absence of motion replaced by the stillness of the breaking dawn. He looked down at his wounds, disappointed to find the crimson stain still spreading on his shirt beneath his arm. The shot embedded in his upper arm ached horribly but at least the bleeding had slowed. Painfully, he reached to the passenger seat for his leather jacket. He tugged it on through some awkward maneuvering and opened the door, slowly attempting to stand up. For a moment, he was sure he would pass out. He grasped the open door with his left hand and braced himself as the car and pavement swirled around him.

  Oh God, please don’t let me pass out. Just get to a room.

  The spinning slowed though he was still light-headed. He closed the car door then steered himself toward the office door. A bell above the door announced his arrival, beckoning a plump woman to her station behind the desk.

  “Good morning. How can I help you?” A strong whiff of cheap cologne wafted across the counter. Nausea roiled in his stomach, shooting a metallic taste to his mouth.

  “I just need to get some rest for a few hours. Been driving all night and I can’t seem to keep my eyes open any longer. Have you got a room?”

  “Oh sure. Will that be a single?”

  “Uh, yes. It’s just me.”

  The woman made an entry in a large ledger then asked him to sign the registry. His John Smith looked like the work of a kindergartner. When he finished, he leaned forward for a better look at his barely legible signature then gently slid the book back to her. He noticed the long braid of white hair piled up on her head like a cinnamon roll. The thought made him hungry.

  “Where can I get something to eat around here?’”

  She eyed the scribbled name on her registry. Thick, penciled eyebrows rose to meet his gaze. “Why yes, Mr. . . Smith. ’Course the diner won’t open for another hour but you could pick up some packaged food over at the Shop ‘N Go just down the street. They keep a fresh pot of coffee going if you’re so inclined.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’ll be thirty-five dollars cash or I can take a credit card, if you’d prefer.”

  He handed her a pair of twenties and turned to check out the store down the street. He could hear her panty hose swishing as she made her way to the cash register behind her.

  “Here’s your change and your key. Cottage 12 is located around back. You can just pull your car around and park right by the door.”

  “Thanks,” he answered, then added, “Oh, could you give me a wake-up call around ten?”

  “Be happy to, Mr. Smith.”

  “Oh, one more thing. Is there a bus station around here?”

  “On Broadway just off Tenth. Take Sixteenth here on up about two miles then take a right on Columbia, left on Twelfth then another right on Broadway. You’ll see it.”

  He hoped he’d remember. He made a brief visit to the convenience store to pick up a couple of packaged muffins. Back at Cottage 12, he was pleased to find the room out of sight from the road. He gathered his things and went inside. The cozy room was spotless despite its early 60s decor. His legs felt like concrete as he made his way over to the sink. He peeled off his jacket with what energy he had left and let it drop to the floor. The bright red stains on his shirt alarmed him. He made his way over to the bed despite the dizziness.

  I’ve got to change these bandages before I—

  The fatigue overpowered him as he looked at the large, comfortable bed. His medical needs would have to wait. Even as his head rested gently on the pillow, a desperate slumber devoured him.

  CHAPTER 12

  Eagle’s Nest

  After a long and restless night, Annie knew she had to get some fresh air. She had to shake off the nagging despair that was creeping into her heart. If she could just go outside and breathe in the crisp, clear mountain air, maybe she would feel some sense of release. One thing was for sure: she couldn’t wallow in this outburst of disappointment or anger. That was not why she came to this paradise.

  Bundled up in layers of winter clothing, Annie sensed a deep longing for something—anything to take her mind off her problems. She pulled on the heavy waterproof boots and clomped her way to the door. Unlocking the heavy oak door, she threw it open and felt like she was breathing for the first time in her life. The frigid air stung as she inhaled deeply, but the slight discomfort was worth it. It felt clean and fresh and wonderful. She was grateful for the momentary break in the storm, though the snow continued to fall. Maybe the worst was over. Then again, maybe not. In the distance she could see more ominous clouds rolling in. She wouldn’t go far.

  Annie felt the smile on her face as she basked in the awesome display before her. Yesterday’s frustration and heartache seemed miles away. Now, as she inhaled the cold, perfect air, its bite was already invigorating her, reaffirming her need to be right here, right now. This was where she was supposed to be.

  She welcomed the crunching beneath her boots as she blazed a new trail in the untouched blanket of glistening snow. Staying as close to the road as possible, she was careful, not wishing to lose her way in such unfamiliar surroundings. Bob and Mary Jean were right; there wasn’t any traffic up this way. At other times, such solitude would have made her uneasy, but she welcomed it today.

  If only God would speak to her heart again.

  She forced herself to block out all the negative feelings still unspent. For now, they would have to wait. In this moment she wanted to ponder only the blessings in her life. Any residue of angst in her spirit must give way to the good. At least for now.

  She thought about her children. Three of the most delightful gifts on the face of the earth. Max, their precious first child. Now they could see only rare traces of the dark-haired little boy as he was blossoming into manhood. So tall and handsome. There was something so intriguing about those dark brown eyes. His wide grin, deep dimples, and contagious laughter made him popular in any crowd. His good looks attracted plenty of attention from the girls at church and school, but his strength of character set him apart. She and David had loved him from the moment they laid eyes on him. He was only eight months old when they adopted him into their arms and into their hearts forever. He had been a joy every single day of his life. Oh, but w
here did all the years go? Was it really possible he was almost as tall as David now?

  And Jeremy, her little fireball always bursting with energy and imagination. Caroline had shown her pictures of David as a boy. The resemblance was incredible. Jeremy, so much like his father in both looks and personality. That McGregor nose already struggling to claim its rightful place on Jeremy’s handsome young face. How he could make her laugh! Even when he got into mischief, which happened almost everyday, he could reduce her to gales of laughter. The way he arched his right eyebrow when he wanted to appear more mature. The way he mimicked famous characters. She loved his Elvis impersonation of Noah greeting the animals into the ark . . . Mr. Giraffe, nice to see you. You and the little lady step right on up. Thank you—thank you very much. She laughed out loud at the memory.

  Oh Jeremy, you make our lives so much fun.

  And sweet little Jessica, with her innocent smile, twinkling sapphire eyes and head full of bouncing blonde curls. You’re Daddy’s little heart-stopper, and my angel bunny. God sent you as a reminder to us of all the wonders of life. The simple joys around us. I love that picture we have of you—the one where your eyes are all lit up in awe of the baby bunny you found in your Easter basket. And how I love the hugs you give me for no special reason. “Just because” hugs, you call them. The sweet sound of your voice singing Christmas carols while you bake cookies with me . . . oh sweetie, how I love you.

  They’re all my pride and joy, each in their own special way. I cannot imagine life without them.

  Caroline, far more like a mother to her than Annie’s own, was the real mentor in her life. David had loved and respected his father, but his mother had always been the foundation of the family. Her solid faith in God and her intimate walk with Him made her an irresistible strength to every life she encountered.

  But before there was Max or Jeremy or Jessie or Caroline, there was David. Annie closed her eyes to see his face. She forced up a wall to block out all the recent hurts and resentments. She wanted to remember the David she fell in love with. She needed to focus on those memories right now.

  Her life forever changed from the moment they’d met. After the bitter break-up from her college sweetheart, she had vowed to never again trust any man. She would never allow herself to be that vulnerable again. Determined to live her life as an independent single, she’d landed a teaching job in Tulsa immediately after graduation. She planned to take night classes to first earn a masters degree, then a doctorate in education. Her goal was to one day teach on the college level.

  With a heavy background in American history, she planned to travel extensively throughout the United States in her quest to learn everything she could about the birth and beginning years of America. She passionately believed the recent cultural trends had transported America far away from the goals and dreams of its forefathers. She wanted to make a difference. She wanted to teach the truth.

  Such plans made no provision for marriage. Annie didn’t need a man in her life. They were nothing but heartache and trouble. Her own father, whom she adored with a childlike wonder, had died suddenly and without warning. On a family vacation, he dropped dead, the victim of a cerebral hemorrhage. Just ten years old, she mourned his unexpected absence for years before finally accepting it. While all around her, her friends’ parents were ripped apart by nasty divorces, Annie soon realized that men weren’t around for the long haul, regardless of the circumstances.

  Men could not be counted on. Period. A life without the complication of a romantic relationship was much more suitable to the overall vision for her life.

  Then one rainy October evening, on the way home from a late faculty meeting at school, a UPS truck flew through a red light, hitting her broadside. Her compact car spun out of control before slamming into a street light. When it finally stopped, she was dazed; not so much worried about the sticky pain on her forehead as the chaos of her students’ test papers now strewn across the front seat of her car. Staring at the huge raindrops splattering the papers, she found herself unable to think what to do about it.

  The next thing she remembered was waking up in the emergency room, bright lights and loud voices drifting around her like some surrealistic dream. A nagging female voice repeatedly asked for a name or number to notify a family member or friend. She couldn’t think of a soul. Then a cloud of total blackness swallowed her into a merciful sleep.

  A mild concussion accompanied the more serious internal injuries she sustained, including a ruptured spleen, several broken ribs and a broken arm. She lost track of how many times people said she was lucky to be alive. She certainly didn’t feel very lucky. Recovery from the physical injuries was slow and painful, parking her in the hospital for over a month.

  The emotional recovery was something altogether different.

  For hours, she would stare out the window of her hospital room. Too angry to cry, she pondered the ramifications of her setback. Between insurance from the UPS people and her own salary, the financial aspects of the ordeal didn’t concern her.

  It was the lost time in the scope of her precise and well-ordered plans which frustrated her most. It would be weeks, maybe months, before she would be able to return to the classroom. The disruption in her lesson plans would throw them far behind schedule, her agenda shot to oblivion. During visiting hours, a steady stream of students and their parents always lifted her spirits on the one hand, but caused additional anxiety as she listened to their complaints about their “boring and crabby” substitute. Catching up from this despised leave of absence would be gruesome.

  Then there was her graduate work. The university was sympathetic to her misfortune, but such a long absence from her classes necessitated dropping them for the remainder of the semester. The work on her research project also came to a screeching halt. Another postponement in her grandiose plans.

  All in all, it wasn’t fair.

  Annie had always thrived on the hectic pace of her established lifestyle. So much idle time in her hospital room depressed her. It sucked her into a downward spiral which consumed her more each day. Too much time to think. Too many unsolicited thoughts and memories.

  A couple weeks into her hospitalization, in the midst of this despondency, came a quiet knock on her door one afternoon.

  “Chaplain,” announced a man’s voice from outside her partially opened door. “Mind if I come in?” Annie rolled her eyes and kept silent. Maybe he’ll go away.

  Another gentle knock as the door silently opened. “Oh, I’m sorry—I assumed since you didn’t answer you were either asleep or out of the room. Is it okay if I come in for a minute?”

  Annie visualized a retired, bald preacher, no doubt obese, with gravy stains on his too-short tie and nose hairs grossly in need of a trim. She was not prepared for the tall, well-built handsome man strolling into her room. He was young, probably not much older than she was. And his eyes immediately captivated her. She’d never seen such a deep shade of blue. His whole demeanor seemed to warm the room even as he entered.

  This guy’s a chaplain? “Um, okay.”

  He walked toward her, extending his right hand. “I’m David McGregor, one of the chaplains assigned to this floor.” He grasped her hand in a confident, firm handshake then looked down at a clipboard in his other hand. He wore a long-sleeved freshly starched shirt, forest green with some sort of tan insignia on the pocket. The rich color seemed to enhance his thick, black hair and those mesmerizing blue eyes. It wasn’t the striking face of a male model, but his broad smile and sheepish expression could surely melt an ice cube from ten paces.

  “And you are . . . Annie Franklin. Nice to meet you, Annie Franklin.” His smile seemed genuine and sincere. Annie was astonished to feel herself blushing. She busied herself arranging her covers. Attempting to pull herself up by grabbing the overhead bar, she grimaced.

  “Here, let me help you.” He fluffed the pillows behind her for support. “So I understand you were in a pretty serious accident.” He pulled up a c
hair beside the bed and sat down, tossing the clipboard toward the foot of her bed. He stretched out his long legs, folding his arms across his chest, obviously quite comfortable and ready to talk. “Tell me about it.”

  Annie glanced out the window to avoid the expectant expression on his face. “Actually, Mr. McGregor, I’d—”

  “David. Just call me David.” That smile again.

  “Okay . . . David, I was just going to say I’d rather not talk about the accident right now. So maybe there are some other folks on this floor you might want to—”

  He twisted his mouth to one side as if puzzled. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about your accident, but you look like you could use some company.”

  He paused for a moment then bounced out of the chair and headed toward the wall across from Annie’s bed. “Whoa! Will you look at all these cards!” He examined the cluster of get-well cards and numerous hand-made posters taped to the wall then tossed a knowing smile over his shoulder at her. “Looks like you have quite a fan club. Who are all these kids?” he asked, pointing to an assortment of snapshots.

  “I teach second grade. Those are my students.”

  “You like it?”

  “Like what?”

  “Teaching school.”

  “Yes, I love it. I really hate being laid up here. I can’t stand watching the calendar tick off day after day.”

  He wandered over to the windowsill filled with flower arrangements. “Oh, I’ll bet you don’t miss them half as much as they miss you.” He drifted over to her beside table, leaning over to smell a bouquet of red roses. Standing right beside her, he turned his head to face her, obviously waiting for a response.

  That smile. Like some irresistible magnetic field that’s pulling me in. She scolded herself for such a ridiculous thought. She tried focusing on her folded hands. “I’m not so sure. They’re great kids.”

  “Tell me more about Annie Franklin.” He dug his hands deep into the pockets of his khaki slacks and strolled casually back to his chair and sat down. “You from around here? From Tulsa?”