Heart racing, he grabbed the phone. “Hello? This is Dakota Conway. What about my mother?”
The woman briefly told him what had happened.
“Tell her I’ll be right there.” He hung up.
What more could go wrong? When would this nightmarish day end?
He’d never felt so helpless in his life. He didn’t know which way to turn. He knew he should pray, but he couldn’t seem to gather his thoughts enough to do so.
He turned. Sara was standing in the hallway, watching him. She looked wan and shaken, like he felt.
“It’s Mom,” he told her. “She was in a car accident. I’ve got to go to the hospital.”
She nodded, silent, expressionless.
“I need you to come with me, Sara.”
She shook her head.
“Please. I need you.” He took a step forward. “Please, Sara.”
He thought she was going to refuse. But after a long pause, she said, “All right. I’ll come with you.”
Claire felt just a moment of solace when Dakota appeared around the curtain. And then she saw Sara.
He’d brought her with him.
Claire had remembered, of course, what had happened prior to her accident. She’d remembered why she was out driving aimlessly. She wished she hadn’t. The temporary memory loss had been bliss compared with this gnawing pain and the return of an ancient bitterness, a bitterness made worse by its brief absence.
I hate you. She willed Sara to read her thoughts. I hate you.
“Mom, are you all right?”
She tore her gaze from Sara and looked at her son as he approached her hospital bed. “They tell me I’ll be fine.”
“What happened?” He took hold of her hand.
“I swerved to keep from hitting a child, and my car went off the road. I hit a pole.” She lifted her left arm, showing the cast. She tried to keep her tone light. “Six weeks. That’s not so long.”
“But the nurse told me you’ve got a concussion and that you’re going to have to stay in the hospital for a day or two.”
“It’s nothing. Just routine observation.”
“I think I’d better talk to the doctor.” He turned around. “Stay with her, Sara. Please. I’ll be back as soon as I can find someone to tell me something more.” He hurried out into the corridor.
The expression on Sara’s face mirrored the feeling in Claire’s heart. Neither wanted to be alone with the other.
Tramp. Adulteress.
Claire wanted to do Sara physical harm, to get even. If she could get out of this bed …
“You don’t have to worry, Ms. Conway. I told Dakota that I can’t marry him.”
Claire took in a quick breath, surprised. “Then why are you here?”
“He made me come. He begged me to. He was worried about you. I couldn’t … I couldn’t refuse when he didn’t know how badly you were hurt.”
“How kind of you.” Sarcasm dripped from each word. “It would have been convenient for you if I’d died, wouldn’t it?”
Sara took a step backward, as if Claire had struck her.
She wished she had.
“I’m sorry,” Sara whispered. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for everything.”
A likely story.
“I was young and stupid. I never meant —”
“Stop!” Despite the pain it caused, Claire sat up. “Do you think being young and stupid excuses you for what you did to my family?”
“No.” Tears ran down Sara’s cheeks. “No, it doesn’t excuse anything.”
“Leave Dakota alone before you destroy him.” She lay down and turned onto her right side, showing Sara her back. “Leave us both alone. Just go away.”
Claire held her breath, listening to the hospital sounds — the swish of rolling gurneys, footsteps muffled by paper shoe-covers, whispered conversations between staff members. She wasn’t certain how, but she knew the moment Sara slipped out of the hospital room.
It should have made her feel better to know she was gone.
It didn’t.
Maybe nothing ever would again.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Claire leaned against Dakota as he unlocked the front door of her house. Exhausted by the drive home, she desperately needed to lie down. Before they’d left the hospital, she’d thought the doctor’s lengthy list of do’s and don’ts and other precautions were unnecessary. Not so. She was weaker than she’d realized.
The two of them were midway across the living room before her gaze fell on the scattered china cups and other items from the coffee tray.
Dakota must have seen the mess at the same time. “You sit down and I’ll clean it up.”
She scarcely heard him, her thoughts plummeting back to that moment two days before when she’d dropped the tray, spilling its contents.
“Mom.” With his hand in the small of her back, he urged her toward the sofa. “Sit down.”
She did as she was told, watching him as he carefully returned all the items to the tray, and then carried it into the kitchen. A minute or two later, he returned with a damp rag and some spray cleaner and began working to remove the cream and coffee stains from the carpet.
“Look.” He held something up between thumb and forefinger. “I found the chip out of the sugar bowl. A little glue and it’ll be like new.”
“I’m glad.” Claire leaned back and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to remember how the bowl had been broken. She wanted to forget it all. She wanted it to go away. She wanted to pretend it never happened.
Moments or minutes passed. She didn’t know which.
“Are you asleep?”
“No.” She opened her eyes to find her son seated on the chair next to the sofa. “But I’d like to be. I think I’ll take one of those pills they sent home with me. They knock me out pretty good.”
“Before you do, I need to ask you about Saturday.” He raised a hand to forestall any protest she might offer. “I let it be while you were in the hospital, but I can’t wait any longer. I haven’t seen or talked to Sara since I left her with you in the emergency room. I’ve left countless messages on her answering machine. I’ve been by her apartment. Her car’s there, but she doesn’t answer the door. I called her office this morning, but they said she’s out sick.”
I hope she is sick. I hope she’s deathly ill. Claire pressed her lips together to keep from speaking her thoughts aloud. I hope she’s suffering the tortures of hell itself … just as I am.
“I need your help, Mom. What happened between you two?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt it all out. But then the haze of her hatred lifted enough for her to see his agony, and she knew she couldn’t be the one to tell him the truth. It was going to break his heart, perhaps irrevocably. It was better for him to be confused than destroyed.
“I can’t tell you,” she said, closing her eyes again. “And it’s for the best that you don’t know. Honest, it is. Just forget you ever knew her.”
“I’m not going to let her go without a fight.” His voice rose. “I love her, and I want the truth!”
She sighed deeply. “Then you’ll have to get it from Sara.” In a whisper, she added, “It doesn’t always set you free, you know.”
The silence that stretched between them caused her nerves to screech. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she opened her eyes. He was heading for the door.
“Dakota, where are you going?”
“To do just what you suggested. Get Sara to tell me the truth.”
“You said she wouldn’t talk to you.”
He stopped, turned, and pinioned her with his gaze. “She will, because I’m not leaving her in peace until she does.” With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.
Do not let the sun go down on your anger.
She ignored the Voice in her heart. God was asking too much of her. She’d tried to be obedient before, but this was asking too much. She refused to listen to that still, small Voice. Not this time.
And do not give the Devil an opportunity.
“It’s too late. The devil’s already had his opportunity, and he’s done his worst.”
But I am greater, Claire. Hear Me.
“I have a right to be angry!” she shouted as she rose to her feet. “I have every right.”
Dakota rang Sara’s doorbell and knocked for ten minutes before he decided to get help. He went to the complex’s rental office and told the manager, a Ms. Hopkins, that his fiancée was ill. He said Sara wasn’t answering the phone or the door and that he was afraid she might need a doctor, maybe even an ambulance.
“Her car’s in its parking spot, so I know she’s inside. I’m worried about her.”
His distress was real enough, and that probably helped to convince Ms. Hopkins that she might have a serious situation in one of her units. She grabbed the master key and hurried toward Building G.
When they arrived at the apartment, Dakota realized Sara might respond to Ms. Hopkins if she heard the manager calling to her through the door. She might tell Ms. Hopkins that she was fine and to go away. Then his plan would be ruined.
To keep that from happening, he pounded on the door before the manager could do the same. “Sara! It’s Dakota. Answer me. Are you all right?”
Silence was all they heard. He’d known it would be.
Ms. Hopkins looked up at him with troubled eyes, then slipped the key into the lock. She’d barely turned the knob when Dakota placed his palm on the door and pushed it open. He rushed in.
“Sara!” She wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. She wasn’t on the balcony. “Sara!”
He found her in the bedroom. She looked as rumpled as the bed she lay on. Dark half-moons shadowed the underside of her eyes. Her hair was limp and tangled.
“Is she —?” Ms. Hopkins began.
“I’ll take care of her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks for everything.” He looked at Sara again.
She rolled over, turning her back to him.
He waited until he heard the front door close behind the manager before he spoke. “I’ve come for some answers.”
No response.
He walked to the opposite side of the bed and sat down. When she started to roll over again, he stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. Unable to escape him any other way, she closed her eyes.
Help me, God. I need Your wisdom. I need to understand so I can help Sara. And my mom too. But how can I help them if I don’t know what happened? How can I get her to tell me?
A verse from the book of Job came to mind: Now as for me, I said in my prosperity, “I will never be moved.”
He couldn’t see the relevance and tried to clear his thoughts.
Never be moved.
I don’t doubt You, Lord. My faith’s not shaken.
Hear Me, Dakota. never be moved.
Understanding dawned. Of course. That was the answer.
Thanks, Lord.
He tightened his fingers on Sara’s shoulder. “You might as well start talking, because I’m not leaving here until you do. Whether that’s a day or an hour, a week or a month, I’m staying.”
“You’ll lose your job,” she said without looking at him. Her voice was low and hoarse from disuse.
“Then I’ll lose it. I don’t care.”
“Go away.”
“No.” He leaned toward her, kissed her cheek, and brushed the hair back from her face. “I love you. I’m not going until I know what terrible thing happened and what I can do about it.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t you know this is driving me crazy?”
A moment later, bleak green eyes stared up at him, and the pain he saw therein was like a dagger through his heart.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I don’t want to know.
When she rolled to her other side, he let her, still shaken by what he’d seen in her eyes, what he’d seen but didn’t understand.
An hour later, Dakota heated soup in the microwave and brought it to Sara. But she didn’t eat anything. Even if she was hungry— which she wasn’t — she couldn’t have eaten. Just the thought of food made her queasy.
Two more hours passed. Dakota continued to sit in the easy chair in the corner of her bedroom. He hadn’t attempted to force another conversation. He seemed determined to wait it out, no matter how long it took.
By evening she realized there was only one way she would be alone again, and that was if she told him what had happened with Dave. Only the unvarnished truth would drive Dakota away, out of her life.
And that, of course, was what she deserved: to lose him. Forever.
She remembered the conversation they’d had in this apartment three months before. On the night he’d proposed. She remembered telling him he needed to find someone else, someone better, someone without her tarnished past. He was a good and upright man. His heart was pure. He deserved a wife with a heart as pure as his own. He hadn’t a clue what evil she had done, what wickedness she’d performed.
And only knowing it would send him away.
I don’t want him to go. I love him.
But there wasn’t any hope for them. The truth had to come out. It would come out, now or later. It might as well be now.
And then I’ll never see him again.
With her heart breaking anew, she sat up on the bed. “You win.” She pushed a heavy mass of tangled hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go into the living room.”
Claire grabbed the telephone before the second ring. “Dakota?”
“No, it’s me. Kevin.” A hesitation, then, “What’s wrong?”
Softly, “Everything.”
“Can you tell me?”
“No.” She doubted he could hear her.
“Do you want me to pray for you?”
Louder, “No.”
“Claire, I —”
“No! I don’t want to pray. And I don’t want to talk to you right now either. I’m sorry. Good-bye.” She hung up before he could reply.
She stared at the telephone as if it were something that should be thrown out with the trash.
“I don’t want to pray,” she repeated. “I don’t want to be told I need to forgive her, and I know that’s what he’d tell me. I can’t listen to anybody telling me I shouldn’t be angry. I want to be angry.”
An icy chill uncoiled in Dakota’s chest as Sara revealed the details of her affair with his father. She didn’t make any excuses. She didn’t attempt to pretty it up. In fact, she seemed determined to make it sound as sordid as possible.
“I didn’t know he was married, but that doesn’t excuse me. I could have found out if I’d wanted to. All the signs were there. He was secretive, evasive. He didn’t give me his phone number or his address. He took me to dark restaurants and out-of-the-way places.” She laughed without humor. “But mostly just to bed. He never even said he loved me. I was that easy.”
“Sara —
“Get it through your head, Mikey.” She nearly spit the name at him, her voice rising to a near shriek with each syllable. “You were twelve years old and I was sleeping with your father.”
He understood now why she’d been vomiting on Saturday. He felt like being sick himself.
“Go away.” Whatever strength, whatever anger, whatever else she’d felt, it was gone now. She spoke in a monotone, emotionless, listless. “Please just go away.” She looked down at her left hand, removed the diamond engagement ring, and held it out to him. “I forgot to give you this the other day.”
“Sara …” he tried again, although he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
She rose from the chair where she’d been sitting, stepped over to him, placed the ring in his hand, and closed his fingers around it. “Lock the door on your way out.”
He caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes before she turned and walked down the hall, disappearing into her bedroom. A part of him thought of following her. But if he did, what would he say? What could he say?
“Is this how it’s meant to end, Lord?�
�� he asked softly. “This certainly can’t be how it’s supposed to end.”
He got up and left the apartment, the sharp edges of the diamond cutting into the palm of his hand.
Curled into a ball on the bed, hugging her pillow to her chest, Sara heard the door close. Dakota was gone. He was gone at last. She’d done what she’d set out to do. She’d made certain he didn’t have any straggling illusions about her.
She remembered the night he’d proposed. She remembered his words of love and devotion. She remembered the hope she’d felt, the joy.
And now it was gone. Gone forever.
“Good-bye, Dakota,” she whispered. “I love you.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
The Boise River gurgled and babbled over the smooth boulders and stones that lined the bottom of the swift-flowing waterway. An eighty-degree temperature had joggers and walkers out in force along the greenbelt.
Dakota had a favorite spot on this stretch of the river, a place hidden behind tall cottonwoods and dense underbrush, a place where he couldn’t be seen and where he didn’t have to see others. He thought of it as his private oasis. He’d come here many times in the past to pray and meditate.
And so he’d come today to seek answers. He’d wallowed in misery and self-pity for five days. He didn’t want to remain in that place of sorrow any longer. He needed to hear his heavenly Father’s voice again. He needed to know what to do, where to go, how to cope.
Taking a deep breath, he gazed at the beauty of God’s creation that surrounded him and suddenly remembered the first time he’d seen it. He’d been with his dad, both of them carrying fishing poles. He couldn’t have been more than six years old at the time. He remembered the two of them laughing as his dad put his favorite fishing hat on Dakota’s head.
Strange that he’d forgotten that day until now.
“How come you had to have an affair?” he asked his long-absent earthly father.
Sunlight glinted off the surface of the water. A dog barked in the distance. A hawk soared against a crystal blue sky.
The Forgiving Hour Page 25
