The Runaway Pastor's Wife

by Diane Moody

  Michael swallowed hard. “Yeah, I will. I promise. Thanks, man.”

  He climbed his way up the wall of the phone booth and replaced the receiver. He fell against the door again, frightened by his weakened condition. Gotta keep driving. Gotta get to Christine’s. I gotta make it . . .

  He straightened himself as best he could, still cradling his throbbing right side. He slowly made his way back into his car then fell into the driver’s seat. Take more muscle relaxers. You’re never gonna make it like this. He grabbed the bottle of pills and poured several into the palm of his hand then swallowed them with a gulp of cold coffee.

  Backing out the car, he rolled down the front windows with the press of a button. The arctic blast of air hit him like a brick of ice, awaking every sense in his body. He drove only a few miles before his shivering fingers reached for the automatic window button to close them.

  The winding road beckoned him closer and closer to his refuge. Only a couple more hours and he could relax. Christine could find a doctor for him. She’d put him up for a while, at least until he could come up with a plan.

  Christine. Crazy Christine . . .

  His delirious mind took a detour back to college. It was early summer following his senior year at Oklahoma State. With the College World Series only days behind him, he waited impatiently for the upcoming November baseball draft, hoping to land a major league contract. To stay in shape, he played on a local semi-pro team for the summer. His girlfriend had joined a group of friends on an extended graduation trip to Hawaii. Christine, her best friend, had planned to go but had to back out at the last minute when her father had a sudden heart attack.

  Christine. Always the life of the party. She had one of those husky voices from too many years of cheerleading. He could still hear the contagious sound of her raucous laughter. But aside from her enormous popularity, everyone knew how close she was to her father. With Christine’s mother deceased, her dad bought an apartment in Stillwater where he lived part of the year so he could be close to Christine while she was in college. Occasionally he would visit the family vacation home in Colorado, but when he wasn’t traveling on business—which was most of the time—he stayed in Stillwater. Christine loved having him close by.

  So when Harold Benson had a massive heart attack, Christine was devastated. Michael became the shoulder she needed to cry on, the friend she needed to lean on. They had been good friends for years. After all, she was Annie’s best friend. And with Annie and all their friends off in Hawaii, it was only natural for him to take care of her at a time like this.

  Take care of her . . . at least that’s how it began. Christine was falling apart, watching her father’s life slip away. In a matter of days he was gone. And as she went through the motions of the funeral and all its demands, Michael was there for her.

  The night after the funeral, Christine asked him to take her for a long drive out into the country. They iced down a few six-packs in a cooler and took off as the sun began to set. They had no destination. They drove until they were well into their second six-pack. With the subsequent need for a bathroom, they pulled off the road near Lake Keystone and like any respectable college drunk, headed into the woods to Mother Nature’s “restroom” under the stars. Michael went back for the cooler and an old quilt he kept in the trunk of his Camaro. They walked down a moonlit path to a deserted beach.

  They laughed and they drank. They sang old Beatles’ songs and they drank some more. When the cooler was empty and the laughter died, Christine began to sob. Michael held her in his arms and let her cry.

  And in a moment of quite unexpected intimacy, they were swept away by their passion.

  Even now, all these years later, it still made him feel uneasy. It wasn’t like they’d intended for it to happen. It just happened. And in the days that followed, it happened again and again and again. Did he love her? Maybe. In a different kind of way.

  And Christine? For her it was perhaps nothing more than a peculiar part of her grieving process. Michael had always known that. He was sure she loved him in her own special way. But she was a free spirit. The day before their friends were due back from Hawaii, she told him good-bye and took off. She offered some lame excuse of a possible job offer in New York, but Michael knew she was just making it easier for everyone concerned. Maybe she was right.

  Everyone knew he had planned to marry Annie. After the draft, they would make plans and set a date for their wedding. Everyone, but everyone expected Michael and Annie to get married. For four years, they had been inseparable.

  Until that summer. In four short weeks, everything had changed. Before, his entire world had been consumed with two things: baseball and Annie Franklin. Baseball was his life, and Annie was the love of his life. She was beautiful and funny and smart and amazing. And he had never even imagined his life without her.

  But all that had changed. Maybe it was guilt. Who knows? Maybe he knew he could never face Annie—those four weeks with Christine hidden in his heart, buried forever like a burning secret. Or maybe he’d realized he wasn’t ready to be tied down. He didn’t want to wake up one morning and feel suffocated by the confines of marriage. After all, the scouts all predicted he’d go in the top five rounds of the draft. He had a career to think of. He’d be traveling constantly. This was no time to settle down. He had to be free to pursue his life-long dream to play major league baseball. Right?

  It would be hard, but he could do it. He’d make a clean break with Annie as soon as possible. He’d try not to hurt her too much. Maybe they could still be friends once she got over the blow. Yeah, Dean. In your dreams. You broke her heart and you know it.

  Suddenly, the blaring air-horn of a tractor trailer slapped Michael back to reality. He had crossed the middle line. He jerked the steering wheel, throwing his car into a radical spin. The semi flew past him with its deafening horn. By the time his brakes grabbed the snow-covered road and stopped the car, he was facing the blinding lights of the oncoming cars which had been following him a split-second before. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and jerked the steering wheel again. His Escalade flew off the road and into a deep snow drift.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five cars careened past him before they vanished into the darkness. Michael laid his head against the steering wheel. When did it get dark? How long have I been driving in this stupor? He looked at the digital clock on the dash. He couldn’t even remember driving for the last couple of hours. You idiot! How could you be so stupid!

  And then it dawned on him. The muscle relaxers.

  He didn’t remember how many he’d taken. He had no clue where he was.

  Without warning, his body was wracked with pain. The initial shock of his blunder had worn off. Now his injuries reminded him how seriously hurt he was. The abrupt maneuvering to escape what surely would have been the death of him now pierced his shoulder and side. He was overcome with dizziness and fatigue. In his mind, he relived the sight of those headlights coming straight at him. That horn blaring down on him.

  And again without warning, a severe nausea erupted in his stomach. He pushed the car door open just in time to splatter the pure white snow with the remnants of whatever was left in his stomach. He heaved until nothing more was left. He wiped his mouth against the sleeve of his good arm and tried to catch his breath. He climbed out of the SUV, careful to avoid where he’d puked.

  The physical regurgitation was nothing compared to the rage that spewed from his soul. He cussed and cursed and screamed, his fury echoing off the silent darkness around him. For a moment, he stopped. He surveyed the position of his car in the bank of snow, the headlights casting two eerie tunnels of light through the white mound. Then he burst back into his uncontrollable frenzy of wrath, even more fiery than before. He damned everyone and everything he could think of, then repeated his tirade all over again.

  With his anger finally emptied, he sat down in the snow and fell back against the soft, icy cold blanket beneath him. He panted hard from his outburs
t, his breath forming huge puffs of fog that swirled away into the night. He was wiped out, the bullet wound in his side feeling like the white hot irons used to brand the cattle back in Texas.

  “Oh God, please don’t let me die.”

  Michael shook with raw fear as a brilliant light suddenly engulfed him. He opened his eyes only to shut them again against the glare of a bright wall of light. Oh no . . . “Oh God, no! Please! I don’t want to die!”

  “Hey! Are you okay, mister?”

  Michael shielded his eyes against the lights. He could make out the silhouette of someone against the headlights of a vehicle. Relief swept over him as he tried to get up.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I lost control of my car and ended up in this snow bank.” He was standing, wiping the snow off his wet clothes.

  “Son, it looks to me like you’re bleeding pretty bad there. Do you want me to go call an ambulance?” The stranger’s face was still hidden in the blinding light, but Michael felt comforted by the kind tone of concern in his voice.

  “Uh, no. No, that’s okay. It’s nothing serious. But I’d appreciate it if you could help me pull my car back out of this ditch.”

  “No problem. I’ve got a chain in the back of my truck. Just take it easy and I’ll try to get it hooked up to your bumper.”

  The stranger went about the task as if he’d done it a thousand times. In no time at all, the Escalade was sitting back on the side of the road apparently undamaged.

  “Are you sure I can’t take you into town to see the doctor? You’re bleeding an awful lot there, son.”

  Michael tried in vain to conceal his blood-soaked clothes. His sweats and jacket were soaked all the way through. He rubbed his hands together to warm them. “No, I’ll be okay. I really appreciate your help. Except—do you happen to know where Weber Creek is? I’m not even sure I’m on the right road. Am I in Colorado?”

  “You’re only about five miles east of Weber Creek. I’ll lead you to the turn-off if you’d like?”

  Michael hesitated. “Well—sure. Thanks. At this point, that would be a big help. I really appreciate this. Can I pay you for—”

  “No need. I wouldn’t think of it, son. Just pass the favor on. That’s all I ask.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Seminole, Florida

  Jessica appeared at the door of his study holding the phone against her chest. “Nana’s on the phone, Daddy. She wants to talk to you. She’s kinda upset,” she whispered.

  David took the phone from her, pressing the mute button on the receiver. His eyes silently communicated with those of his mother across the hall. She raised her eyebrows then turned her attention to her granddaughter. “Jessie, honey, why don’t you come help me finish setting the table. We’re just about ready to eat and I could use your help.” She took Jessica’s eager hand and steered her toward the kitchen.

  David closed the door to his study while uttering a silent prayer to find the right words. He’d dreaded this call from his mother-in-law. “Hello Darlene, how are you?”

  “DAVID! What’s going on! Where’s Annie? Why didn’t anyone TELL me she was leaving? Jessie just told me she’s gone on a trip. WHAT trip? She didn’t tell ME she was going on a trip! That’s not like—”

  “Whoa Darlene—hold on! Just calm down and let me explain. Don’t get yourself all worked up, okay?”

  “But David, why didn’t—”

  “It’s all right. Really. Annie just needed some time away. A little vacation. Some time to herself. I think she—”

  “What do you MEAN she needed some time to herself? Annie would never—”

  David was fighting a losing battle with his temper. “Darlene, you’ve got to stop talking so I can tell you! Okay? Can you do that? Because there’s no way I can begin to explain as long as you keep interrupting me.”

  David heard a frustrated sigh through the phone line. His mother-in-law detested any manner of correction directed toward her. She dished out plenty of it, but clearly couldn’t take it in return. “Very well. I’m listening,” she patronized.

  “Apparently Annie has felt a tremendous burden lately, and I think the continuous stress we’ve been living under just caught up with her. The best thing for her now is to have a stress-free period of time when she can work through some of this and—well, I suppose, get her bearings back. The kids are fine. I’m fine. My mother is staying with us while she’s away, so there’s no need to worry. I’m sure this is going to do Annie a world of good. She’s never had an extended time away just for herself since we’ve been married. I think you’d agree that sometimes we all need a chance to step away, take a good deep breath, and regroup.”

  David paused, searching for anything else he ought to say. He hated this.

  “May I speak now?” Darlene snapped.

  “Of course.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight. Annie is MY child. I believe I know her better than anyone since I was the one who gave her LIFE.” She addressed him as if he were five. “And if something was bothering MY Annie, I can ASSURE you, I’d be the first to know.”

  Oh Darlene, you have no idea. You are the last person Annie would ever go to with her problems. You live in a fantasy land, believing you have the perfect mother/daughter relationship. Oh Lord, give me the right words here. Help me be kind but truthful.

  “Darlene,” he responded as graciously as he could. “I’m sure you didn’t know about any of this only because you’ve been away on your cruise. I’m sure Annie would have called you if you’d been in town.”

  Pause. “Oh.”

  David could almost hear the wheels churning in her mind as the realization slowly sunk in. Annie couldn’t possibly have reached her.

  “Yes, well, I suppose you’re right. I forgot about my cruise. But David, when do you expect her back? Where did she go? I want her number. She isn’t answering her cell.”

  “Darlene, she’s asked us to give her the freedom she needs right now. She calls in, but we’re trying to give her all the space we can. I promise when she calls tonight I’ll tell her you called.”

  “David! WHERE IS SHE?!”

  Her tone startled him. He wasn’t used to being yelled at, even by his crazy mother-in-law. But he wasn’t about to be drawn into a fight. Not tonight. He paused, then answered softly, “She didn’t say. Good-night, Darlene.” He placed the receiver gently back down on its console.

  God, You are going to have to handle her for me. I don’t know what else to do.

  The door bell rang just as he stood up. “I’ll get it!” Jeremy yelled. David hoped it was only one of the neighborhood children asking Jeremy or Jessie to play. He started to sit back again in his chair when someone knocked on the door to his study.

  “Come on in,” David answered. Jeremy opened the door. His eyes were wide as saucers.

  “Jeremy? What’s wrong?”

  Jeremy closed the door behind him and sprinted over to his father. “Dad!” he whispered. “There’re two cops at the door and they want to talk to Max! What should I do?”

  David stood up. “Well, I supposed you ought to go upstairs and get your brother. I’ll let them in.”

  Jeremy bolted up the stairs as David walked to the front door. “Hello, I’m Max’s father, David McGregor. Come on in. Max will be down in just a minute. Please, have a seat.” He ushered them into the living room wondering what this was all about. “Is there some kind of problem, officers?”

  A tall uniformed policeman offered his hand as he introduced himself, “Mr. McGregor, I’m Officer Todd Kelly and this is my partner, Phil Brantley. It seems there was a little trouble up at your son’s school today and we need to ask him a couple of questions.”

  At that moment, Max came around the corner of the room, his hands buried deep in his pockets. David could tell by the sheepish look on his face that something was definitely wrong.

  “Max, this is Officers Kelly and Brantley. They want to ask you some questions.”

  Max walked over to sit down
on the arm of his father’s chair. “Okay.”

  Office Kelly began, “We had a call from the Tall Pines Christian School today at approximately 4:00 p.m. concerning some alleged vandalism.”

  Max looked down at the knee of his jeans and began to run his finger roughly along the seam.

  “A complaint was filed by one of the school’s teachers, a Mr. Chet Harrison. Now this Mr. Harrison claims that a student by the name of Max McGregor destroyed the door to his classroom this afternoon following a heated discussion.”

  “It didn’t happen anything like that!” Max cut in. He shot a look at his father. “Dad, I promise. It was an accident.”

  Officer Brantley interrupted, “Max, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us just exactly what transpired this afternoon.”

  Max described the entire scenario, beginning with the harassment from Mr. Harrison while class was still in session and ending with the shattering glass. He discreetly left out the parting comment Harrison made concerning his mother. “And that’s exactly how it came down. It wasn’t ‘vandalism’ and I didn’t ‘destroy’ the door, it was just an accident.” He looked to his father, his eyes pleading for understanding.

  “I think I can explain at least part of this,” David began. “You see, I’m the pastor at Tall Pines Community Church. The school is a part of our ministry there on the church grounds. Mr. Harrison is a member of our church in addition to his teaching position at the school. Unfortunately, Chet has some bones to pick with me, and he’s apparently allowed his personal grudges against me to carry over into the classroom. Max has told me about some of the problems he’s had with Mr. Harrison in the past, and it’s obvious now I should have done something about this before.”

  He put his arm around his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Max. I should’ve talked to Chet before it came to this.”

  Max looked up into his eyes. “It’s okay, Dad. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and slammed that door so hard.” He looked at the policemen sitting across from him. “I’ll pay for the broken window.”