The Good Girl

by Barritt, Christy

  My attention snapped back to the present. Sunni’s mom smiled at me on the shoreline. I went to shake her hand and tell her thank you, when she pulled me into a hug. “You’ve got our approval,” she whispered.

  I stepped back, speechless. Did she mean what I thought she meant? She grinned and patted my arm.

  What did I say to that? I didn’t. I just stood there, my mouth open. But a fact settled in my heart. I didn’t want her to like me or think highly of me because crashing down from a pedestal was one of the worst feelings in the whole world.

  I offered an apologetic smile before trudging back to the truck.

  Good Girls Rule #14,230,491: Never insult your hostess.

  Apparently I wasn’t very good at obeying my own rules, the good ones or the bad ones.

  Chapter 17

  I slipped to the truck while Cooper told Austin good-bye. Austin tackled his father in the sand and Cooper pretended to fall back in defeat. The grandparents stood side by side, beaming down at their grandson. The scene warmed my heart. Here was a loving and kind family. Cooper obviously adored his son, and Austin looked up to his dad.

  An ache of unfilled longing echoed in my chest as Cooper climbed into his truck, bringing with him the scent of fresh, lake-tinged air. He cranked the engine and the AC blew cool air through the vents. We waved to everyone as we started back down the road.

  “That’s got to be hard.”

  “It is, but it’s easier because I know it’s the right thing. I want him to know his grandparents. They’re good people.”

  “It’s great that you have a good relationship with them. That’s important.” Would I have been that gracious if I were in his shoes? I’d like to think so.

  “They really have treated me like their son over the years. I couldn’t have asked for better in-laws.”

  My in-laws had thought their son could do no wrong. But our problems went back farther than that. I’d always felt like I was simply the girl their son had married. Not the daughter they’d never had or a welcomed member of the family. Maybe that was my doing just as much as it was theirs, though.

  I decided to gracefully change the subject and move away from the topic of Sunni and the perfect marriage they’d had. “Do you know anything about the man who lives across the street from us? Next to Winnie?” Okay, maybe it wasn’t all that graceful.

  He sent me a side-glance. “Butch Mabry?”

  “The one with eyes that look like they could freeze your blood and send you into cardiac arrest in five seconds flat.” The way I described him, he might as well be a vampire.

  Cooper chuckled and ran his hand over his face. “I don’t know if I’d say it that way, but he’s one strange cookie.”

  I leaned back into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “Is he married?”

  “From all appearances. His wife is from Puerto Rico, I think. She doesn’t speak much English, but she smiles when I see her across the street.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “Not much. I think he’s a computer programmer. They’re pretty quiet and to themselves. I don’t think he’s got very many social skills. He always seems a bit awkward...or like he’d like to freeze your blood with a mere glance and kill you.” His wiggled his fingers in the air in an over-dramatic way that clearly poked fun at me.

  I slapped his arm anyway. “He gives me the creeps.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “I talked to a few neighbors to see if they’d seen anyone walk out with my blinds.”

  He cast a glance of approval as he nodded and raised his eyebrows. “Look at you. You’re turning into a little detective, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not a detective, but I want answers.”

  “What did they say?”

  “No one said anything, of course. Except Winnie, who saw Candy.”

  “Have you ever considered that Candy might be behind all of this?” His voice sounded low and serious, as if he didn’t want to ask the question.

  “I’ve considered it. I mean, she likes attention, but I really don’t think she’s behind this. Nothing makes sense.” Wasn’t that the truth?

  “I can’t argue with that. It’s almost like someone is trying to scare you out of the house. The question is why? Why now? Why you? Lana never had any of these issues, did she?”

  I shook my head. “No. I mean, she had this stalker guy, but he’s out of the country, and he never did anything like this. These recent issues didn’t start until I came. And I don’t know anyone in town, so I don’t know why someone would want to scare me away.”

  Unless they wanted to get an accused pedophile out of the neighborhood. But there were other, more embarrassing and effective ways to do that.

  “Let’s think this through. What are some reasons that someone might want someone—not just you—out of a house?”

  I’d thought of this a million times before and come up with the same lame answers. “There’s something inside that they want?”

  He shook his head with enough force that I could picture him sitting in on high-level meetings with his company, respectfully asserting his opinions. “But they’ve been getting into your house. If they can get inside, they should be able to get it.”

  “Maybe they can’t find it.”

  “They don’t want the person living inside to be around. They have something against them.” He glanced at me. Watching my reaction maybe? “But it’s like you said, no one around here should have a reason for wanting you gone. Unless they think you’re Lana. You do look similar.”

  “Which brings us to the question of why would someone want Lana gone?”

  “There could be a lot of reasons. She broke their heart and they want revenge. She took something that they felt was theirs—a TV role? A spokesperson gig? They just want to scare her to get their kicks?”

  I shook my head. “You see—it’s confusing. It doesn’t make sense.” I settled back in the seat and crossed my arms over my chest. My head was spinning with possibilities but no answers. I sucked in a calming breath, trying to gather my wits. “So tell me about this guy whose house you’re stopping at.”

  “Steve’s a fellow Ranger. We’ve had each other’s back on more than one occasion. We stayed in touch after we got out. Jeremy was down in St. Paul looking for a house so I told him that there was one for sale beside me. He moved in, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “But even though you had mutual friends, you didn’t really connect with the Millers, you said?”

  “I gather that Jeremy Miller changed a lot after he got married. Steve will probably tell you the same thing.” He pulled to a stop in front of an old white farmhouse surrounded by acres of nothing but open fields. “In fact, you can ask him now.”

  “That was fast.”

  Cooper hopped out and grabbed a fishing pole from the back of the truck. I joined him as we walked to the door. “We took a camping and fishing trip together a few weeks ago, and our poles got mixed up.”

  A stocky man with a buzz cut, a big smile, and sunburnt skin around the shoulders of his tank top threw the door open. “If it isn’t Ben Cooper.” He stepped back. “And who’s this?”

  Cooper stepped back. “This is my friend, Tara, who I told you about.”

  He grinned. “Pleasure to meet you, Tara. You two want to do some fishing while you’re up here?”

  “Wish we could. We’ll plan another trip before the summer’s up, though.”

  Steve waved his hand back. “Come and sit down for a minute. Let me grab you both a soda.”

  Cooper and I sat beside each other on a comfy, well-used beige couch. I looked around at the various deer heads adorning the walls, as well as a bobcat and bear. I shivered. I was definitely not the hunting type.

  Steve set two cans of soda on the table in front of us before plopping into the recliner behind him. “What can I do for you, Tara?”

  I popped the top of my drink and ran my hand along the rim. How did one ap
proach difficult subjects like this without sounding off your rocker? “I know this might sound weird. I just want to say that upfront. But some strange things have been happening in the house, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s connected with the death of Danielle. I was hoping you could give me some more information on the couple, if I’m not being too intrusive.”

  The jovial man in front of me laughed and waved his hand in the air, taking a sip of his own diet soda. “Just ask Cooper about my gift of gab. I can talk for days about nothing, and for weeks about everything. What do you want to know?”

  I swallowed hard before looking up and licking my lips. “Do you think he killed his wife?”

  His smile disappeared. “No, I don’t. He wouldn’t hurt a flea, and he loved Danielle.”

  “Could you tell me about their relationship?” I leaned back with my drink in hand, ready to listen for a while.

  Steve stared off in the distance for a moment. “Here’s what I know. I know that they met at church, got married, and were like two bugs in a rug for a while. Then Danielle started experimenting with some weird stuff.”

  “What do you mean?” I took another sip of my drink, trying not to look too eager.

  “Jeremy came home one evening. He thought Danielle was already asleep because the house was dark. He walked inside and found Danielle having a séance with some of her new friends in the living room.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He demanded that everyone leave. He kicked them out. Same thing I would have done.” Steve shook his head. “Danielle had dabbled with some tarot cards and crystals, but Jeremy thought it was just a passing phase. He’d prayed it was. That evening, it was clear that Danielle was all in.”

  “What happened next?” Tension built in my gut as I waited for him to finish.

  “Jeremy didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to break up his marriage. They went to counseling. The elders of the church came over to pray for them. He tried to give her space.”

  “It wasn’t pretty.” Cooper shook his head. “I could hear their arguments all the way over at my place.”

  Steve set his drink back onto the table beside him. “Jeremy still loved her. But some of the stuff she was doing really freaked him out. Séances, tarot cards, crystals. It was like this dark cloud hung over their home, like she’d invited an unwelcomed guest in.”

  I was finally getting a clearer picture of the couple. “What caused the change?”

  “Danielle grew up in a really great home with loving parents. They were always in church. Then Danielle’s dad died. He had cancer, and the family had prayed and prayed for his healing and really believed it was going to happen. He ended up dying in this freak accident where he broke his neck and not from the disease. Danielle got mad at God. She wanted to talk to her dad, so that’s how it all started. It spiraled out of control from there.”

  His words weren’t lost on me. I didn’t have time to ponder them now. “Did Jeremy ever mention how he thought she might have really died?”

  “He’s always thought it was one of her new friends she got mixed up with. But the murder weapon was never even found. The police have no evidence, just theories. It’s the only reason he hasn’t been arrested.”

  I stood. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

  He paused. “You think whoever killed her is still hanging around the house?”

  “I’m wondering if the house was somehow the connection.” I shook my head. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I just know that something’s going on, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. I have to. For my sanity.”

  A few minutes later, we were back in the truck headed home. The one thought from the conversation that stood out in my mind: It was like she’d invited an unwelcome guest in.

  Chills raced through me at the thought. I knew the feeling all too well.

  Chapter 18

  My utter exhaustion must have finally caught up with me on the ride home. The rhythm of the truck somehow lured me to sleep because, the next thing I knew, I was pulling my eyes open and unsuctioning my face from the window as the truck rumbled to a stop.

  Only it didn’t stop in front of my house.

  I blinked, trying to gather my surroundings. Cooper’s truck. On the way home. That was all I could remember. My heart rate quickened as confusion assaulted me. I looked over at Cooper, and, for just a moment, I wondered if he was the bad guy and this was part of his evil plot.

  “Just one more stop,” he promised.

  Just hearing his voice made my doubts dissipate. I sat up and gazed out the window. We were parked in front of a stretch of businesses along a busy street. The buildings looked old and rundown with potato chip wrappers and fast food cups littering the sidewalk.

  The sign in front of me read The Mercy House. The Mercy House? What was that exactly?

  Cooper opened the door and climbed out. I could hear the cars zooming by on the busy street behind us, as well as a crowd of people somewhere singing a campy-sounding song. Cooper leaned into the truck. “Come in with me. There are some people I want you to meet.”

  I followed him into an older building that had once been a store but was now something called The Mercy House. Inside, people in dirty clothes crowded into a large room with old stained carpet, collapsible chairs, and a stage with a music stand. At the back of the room, behind some counters stocked with fruit and bottled water, were better-dressed folks ladling soup into bowls.

  Was this a church? Church was the last place I wanted to be.

  Suck it up, Buttercup.

  Somehow I’d imagined Cooper going somewhere more polished and traditional. But this place...it was nothing like I imagined.

  A middle-aged plump brunette broke from the crowds. She pulled Cooper into a hug. “I’m so glad you could stop by.” She turned toward me. “I’m Wanda, the director for the homeless program. My husband Larry is the pastor here at The Mercy House.”

  “I’m Tara.”

  “Great to meet you.”

  I smiled. “Same here.”

  She turned to Cooper. “We fed fifty homeless today. Fifty. Our biggest turnout yet. But that’s not all. Three of them are coming back to study with Larry tomorrow.”

  “From loaves and fishes to living bread. That’s great.” Cooper’s big smile was gentle and genuine as he rested his hands at his waist and looked beyond Wanda to the crowds being fed. “It’s good they can get out of this heat and get a little nourishment for the body and the soul. Did you have enough volunteers show up?”

  “Just enough, as always. Isn’t that the way God works?”

  “It sure it.” He handed her a folder. “Here’s the estimate for a new sound system. I meant to drop them by earlier this week.”

  “We appreciate all your help, Cooper. We couldn’t do everything we’re doing here without our congregation being on board. God’s moving in a big way through this church.”

  “Whatever you need, let me know. I’m always here.”

  Wanda grinned. “Nice to meet you, Tara. Come back and see us. Sundays at ten.”

  I’d rather stick my head in a toilet bowl than go to church, but I didn’t say that.

  We walked back outside to Cooper’s truck and silently climbed inside.

  With the door closed, I stared at the fading words on the church sign. “The Mercy House, huh? I like the name.”

  “It’s a great place.” He put the truck into reverse and pulled away.

  “How long have you been going there?”

  “Six years or so. I started off going to this church with a trendy preacher and flawless music. It should have been a perfect fit, but it didn’t touch me here.” He thumped his heart. “After stopping by The Mercy House on a whim, I knew God had stirred up something inside me. I didn’t want to look perfect while living a mediocre life. So I ended up here.”

  His words grabbed me. I didn’t want to look perfect while living a mediocre life. I didn’t have time to ponder the implications a
s Cooper continued.

  “We just try to be the hands and feet of Jesus, and that means helping the poor and the hurting and the struggling. It’s a great place. We’re not polished. We may not fit the mold of the typical ‘American Christian.’ But that’s okay.”

  “It sounds like it.” The American Christian. Isn’t that what I had been? All polished and clean on the outside, but lacking total abandon toward God. No, I may not have been like Lana, but I still treasured my nice clothes and house and taking vacations. I’d learned how to look and talk like a Christian, but never how to actually be a Christ-follower.

  My parents had read the Bible and said prayers together and were at church every time the doors were open. For a while, I’d even wondered if I’d been born in the church’s nursery. But sometimes I just felt like I was going through the motions, that I was just trying to follow in my parents’ footsteps.

  My parents had big footsteps to follow in, at that. My dad not only pastored a ten-thousand-member congregation, but he also had a radio show and had published three bestselling books on the Christian life and parenting. Almost anyone in the Christian community would recognize his name.

  All of that just made everything that had happened that much more terrible. Disappointment bit down deep again.

  If I were to be honest, I’d admit that I felt second-place to the church. My dad wasn’t home often. When he was home, I’d felt a need to please him by acting perfectly. Maybe I’d get more attention that way.

  No wonder I viewed God the same way as I’d viewed my father.

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved my dad. I just didn’t feel like I could ever please him. He’d come to expect Lana to mess up and, instead, all of those expectations for her were placed two-fold on me. At least, in my mind they had been.