The Good Girl

by Barritt, Christy

  Before I could answer, his lips covered mine. His kiss was hungry, wanting more—more than I wanted to give.

  I pressed both of my hands against his chest and pushed him back. Fear burned in my throat and shot warning flares into my brain. “No. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Don’t play all innocent with me, Tara. I know who you are.”

  The warning flares stopped firing long enough for numbness to spread through me. “What does that mean?”

  “I know about you. About Florida. I like it.”

  I shook my head, my raging emotions—and the alcohol—making my brain spin. Making nausea roil in my gut. Making tears wet my eyes. “You don’t know anything.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.” He looked behind me. “If you let me come in for a little while.”

  “Don’t try to blackmail me.”

  “Come on, Tara. Drop the act.” His lips covered mine again, even more aggressive than last time.

  I tried to push away, but couldn’t. He had me pinned where I was, and he kissed me like it was his right. Panic clawed at my stomach. Why did I get myself in this situation? How was I going to get myself out of it?

  All of the sudden, Mark jerked backward.

  “What do you think you’re doing? I think the woman said back off.”

  My gaze cleared until Cooper came into focus. Cooper who held Mark by his shirt collar.

  “Mind your own business, Cooper.” Mark growled the words. I prayed a fight wouldn’t break out, for more than one reason. Mostly because if I tried to break it up, I’d most likely fall limply on the ground with the inability to hold myself up.

  Cooper shoved Mark back. “I can’t mind my own business when you’re over here being a jerk.”

  “What Tara and I do is between the two of us. She doesn’t need you acting like a knight in shining armor.”

  I held up a finger, but I saw two of them. Man, my head was messed up. “Actually, I do need a knight in shining armor. Not some...some...someone like you.”

  Mark stared at me a moment, anger simmering in his eyes. Finally, he jerked out of Cooper’s clutch and stomped toward his car, throwing another scowl back toward us before he climbed in. He jerked his door open. As soon as he drove away, my pittering heart slowed.

  If Cooper hadn’t shown up, I wasn’t sure what would have happened. I only knew that I was an idiot and that I was scared. My hands trembled. My cheeks were wet. My heart pounded in my ears.

  I remembered the crystals on Mark’s rearview mirror. His tattoo. His desperation to get inside my house. Was he connected to all of the craziness going on at Lana’s place? Nothing made sense.

  Cooper was on the porch in two strides. The look in his eyes held concern and uncertainty, almost like he wanted to hold me but couldn’t. He seemed to settle for cupping my elbow to steady me instead. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t know what to say. So I let my tears fall freely.

  I shouldn’t have had that drink. Shouldn’t have let Candy convince me to go out tonight. Shouldn’t have ignored Cooper’s advice earlier.

  His grip tightened. “I think we need to get you some coffee. Can I see you inside?”

  Could he see me inside? Said like such a gentleman. I nodded, not sure if I’d make it inside by myself the way my head was spinning and my muscles turned to Jell-o.

  His arm clamped around my waist. He helped me through a maze of blurred surroundings and deposited me on the couch. He disappeared into the kitchen and clanked around as he made coffee.

  Images of Mark flashed into my mind. My muscles seemed to tighten with each memory. That could have been bad. Really bad. Mark was aggressive and could have easily overpowered me.

  How had my life turned into such a circus?

  Tears began pouring down my cheeks again.

  I’ve made such a mess of things.

  And without God in my life, where did I find hope?

  I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose, all too aware that I was a blathering, sobbing mess. Not put together. Not in control. I had no answers.

  And I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  Cooper sat a mug of coffee on the table in front of me. No way would I be able to drink it in my current state. I’d end up spilling the hot liquid all over me.

  “Mark’s a first-class jerk.”

  I sniffled. “How do you know?”

  “He has a reputation.”

  Would Mark tell everyone who I was? Would he make good on his threat? An unflattering sob escaped again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He leaned toward me, reminding me a bit of a counselor.

  I opened my mouth, but another sob escaped instead of words.

  Humiliating. Letting someone else see me like this was out of my comfort zone. But there was nothing I could do about it.

  I sucked in a shaky breath. “I built my whole life around a lie.”

  “You mean with your marriage?”

  I shook my head. “No, with God. I dedicated everything to him. I followed all the rules. I did everything I was supposed to. I was such a fool to believe that there was a higher power out there who cared about me. I believed in a fairy tale.”

  “God disappointed you?”

  “Someone who doesn’t exist can’t disappoint me.” I hadn’t been able to say it, but I thought it enough times. I wasn’t sure I was ready to take that step. Was I an atheist? The word sounded so foreign beside my name. “I was determined to forget about who I used to be. But it’s not that easy, is it?”

  “No, it’s not that easy.” His voice sounded soft, just above a whisper. “Don’t mistake your hurt for a change of heart.”

  I shook my head, grabbing another tissue. I felt my heart softening, so I stood and began to pace. How did Cooper always get to me like that? How did he read me so well? “You should consider a career in counseling. You’re always there when I need you, even when I’ve been horrible. I don’t know how you do it.”

  He appeared behind me, his hands rested on my shoulders, and I wanted more than anything to step back into his embrace. “I just treat people the way I’d want to be treated, Tara. I want to be treated with grace and forgiveness and understanding.”

  Would I test the limits of his grace and forgiveness and understanding if I told him about Florida? I couldn’t do it. The thought pressed in on me, but the words couldn’t leave my mouth. Cooper was my only true friend here in St. Paul, and I couldn’t stand the thought of turning him against me.

  I remembered when I told Peter what had happened. He’d come home, and I’d been curled in a corner on the floor, released on bond. He’d been out of town, and I’d waited until he returned to share what had happened. Miraculously, his mother hadn’t gotten to him first.

  He’d walked into our home. It was obvious I’d been crying. My entire face was blotchy and red. I’d prodded myself up off the floor and managed to sit at the kitchen table with some water. Between sobs, I told him that a student had made accusations against me.

  Peter’s face had gone stark white. He’d remained expressionless as I told him the rest.

  There wasn’t enough evidence to charge me. They were going to keep investigating. I couldn’t leave the area and I should probably get a lawyer.

  I don’t know what he’d been expecting to hear. That I had cancer? He would have taken that news better.

  I’d desperately hoped that he would tell me that he believed in me, that he knew I’d never done anything like that. Instead, he’d stood and told me he needed some time alone. That night, he slept in the guest bedroom. I’d cried myself to sleep, rehashing in my mind every encounter I’d ever had with the student.

  Eventually, Peter seemed to come back to his senses. He finally said the words I’d wanted to hear, but he said it with less than enough conviction. Our relationship had its first fracture. It continued to fracture until finally one day, he announced he was leaving. He couldn’t take the pressure anymore.

  Those mont
hs were torture.

  Once I’d even stared at a bottle of pain medicine and wondered what it would be like to take it. I wondered if it would put an end to my pain and humiliation.

  “Why do you dislike church so much, Tara? What happened?”

  I came back down to reality and shook my head. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  I shook my head harder. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I’d understand more than you probably think.”

  “I doubt it.”

  He shifted. “My wife had an affair with one of the deacons at our church after we’d been married for two years.”

  My heart seemed to stop. I soaked in his words as they settled over me like the aftershock of a nuclear bomb. In my mind, he and Sunni had the perfect marriage. This… this wasn’t even close to being on my radar. “Wow. I had no idea.”

  “It’s true. It happened. It was devastating. The whole church knew what had happened. They asked us to leave.” Lines formed around his eyes, and his words sounded heavy.

  I had no right to ask my next question, but I did anyway. “What happened after that? You...you stayed together?”

  He nodded.

  I shook my head. “You are...” More of a man than almost anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re a hundred times the man that Peter was. The words remained in my brain, though.

  He leaned closer. “I’m what?”

  “You’re amazing, Cooper. Not many people would have handled the situation like you did.”

  “It would have been easy to walk away. Really easy. I almost did, for that matter. But instead I chose to honor my commitment. It took months and months of counseling for things between us to even feel halfway normal. It took years to truly feel happy again.”

  “And then she passed away...” The words caused an enormous lump to form in my throat.

  “I’m so glad things were right between us, and that Sunni was right with God.”

  I ran my hands over my face, the emotional strain of everything making me feel as if I’d aged ten years. “I’ll tell you my story sometime, Cooper. I wish mine had a happy ending, but it doesn’t.”

  “It still can.”

  I smiled as his words settled on me. “You’re right. It still can.”

  And for the first time in a long time, a tinge of hope fluttered in my heart.

  Cooper stood. “You going to be okay here tonight?”

  The last thing I wanted was to be alone. But I knew I had to be. No way was I asking Cooper to stay over on my couch again. So I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” I wouldn’t be totally alone. I had Casper here with me, soothing me to sleep with some beautiful guitar music.

  A shiver crept up my spine.

  Cooper stared at me a moment. Tension stretched between us. Did he feel it too? I’d bet he did. There was a part of me that wanted to reach up and kiss his cheek good night. At the very least, to give him a hug. Instead, I stepped back and jammed my hands into my pockets. “I’ll see you around.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

  Chapter 22

  Today was Friday. I’d been in St. Paul all of a week, but at moments it felt like I’d been here a lifetime.

  Last night had been surprisingly quiet. No guitar music or creaking gates or anything. Not that I’d slept, but still.

  For some reason, I felt more grounded today as I sat at the breakfast table with my coffee and cereal. I’d already been up, gotten some work done, and made a few phone calls.

  Was it my talk with Cooper that had me feeling steadier? Was it my glimpse into what life was like on the other side—and my total desire to have nothing to do with it? I wasn’t sure.

  I decided right then and there that I had to decide if Jesus was real and then live with abandon for him, or decide if he wasn’t real and walk away from everything I’d built my life around. I didn’t want to be in between. I didn’t want to be mediocre. I either wanted to give my life to Jesus 100% or I had to find a new path to walk. I could find gobs of people on both sides of the issue to give me solid reasoning. I had to combine my own faith and reasoning, though.

  For the time being, I was going to forget about my crazy rules—I was going to try to forget, at least. My self-imposed sanctions were doing me no good. Maybe there was no black and white.

  My cell phone buzzed. Finally—was someone actually calling instead of stopping by? I recognized the number from one of the calls I’d made this morning. Lindsey Buchanan, a friend of Danielle’s, had called me back and agreed to meet with me. Surprisingly, she said Bryce Stephens, the reporter, had called her also, and he would be there.

  As soon as I hung up with him, my cell buzzed again. It was Candy.

  “Hey Bahama Mama. You disappeared last night and left me alone.”

  “I left you? You left me with that jerk Mark.” I couldn’t keep the irritation from my voice.

  “I would have never suggested that you two go off alone. But you didn’t ask me. You left me.”

  “Mark offered to take me home early, and he said he’d text you.”

  “Yeah, well he didn’t.” I was guessing from her tone of voice that Mark hadn’t shared his discovery about me with her. Would he?

  “Why are you the one upset? I’m the one who almost had my face mauled off at the front door.” I shivered just thinking about it. Thank goodness Cooper had been around. He had a knack for being close by just when I needed him.

  “Friends look out for each other. I can’t look out for you if you do stupid stuff like go off alone with Mark.”

  My mouth dropped open as I wiped spilt milk off the table. “You’re his friend, Candy. If he’s so terrible, why do you hang out? Why did you suggest I get to know him?”

  “He’s fine as a friend. He’s got mad connections in the area with different promoters and stuff. But I’d never suggest you date him. Well, officially I did, but that was before I knew you.”

  “Lana did.” Did my own sister give me the Judas kiss? That didn’t seem like Lana.

  “Lana doesn’t know him like I do. He gets his sights set on one person, and failure isn’t an option. He likes getting his way. He legally changed his last name from Spitzfarger to Champion, for goodness sake.”

  I shook my head. I still couldn’t shake the notion that maybe Mark was involved somehow in the haunting at this house. “Well, it’s done. It’s over. And I’m okay.”

  Silence stretched for a moment. “What are you doing today?”

  “I have a meeting.”

  “I just so happen to be in the neighborhood...”

  A motorcycle revved outside my house. So much for people not showing up unannounced. I pressed the “end” button, and, a moment later, Candy strode up the cracked sidewalk to my front door. I grabbed my keys from the table and met her outside. “You up for doing some sleuthing with me today?”

  Her thin eyebrows reached toward the ceiling. “Sleuthing? Yeah, baby. What are you doing?”

  I waited a beat, just for the dramatic effect of it. “Talking to a friend of Danielle’s.”

  Her expression remained curious but didn’t register the name. “Who’s Danielle?”

  “The woman who was murdered in Lana’s house.” I waited, watching her expression morph from curiosity to total intrigue.

  “We’re going to investigate?” A wide smile cracked her face.

  “We’re going to take a stab at it.” I moaned. Bad, bad choice of words.

  “Awesome. We can be like Kyra Sedgwick on The Closer. Only we’re not real detectives. Or blonde. Can I use my worst southern accent?”

  “Please don’t.”

  “I’ve been practicing, though. Listen to this.” She sucked in her cheeks and made her eyes look smoldering. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a—”

  “Candy! We should get going.”

  She laughed and looped her arm through mine. “I do like
you, Tara Lancaster. You’re like...you’re like the bomb-diggity.”

  The bomb-diggity? I shook my head. Candy was a Pixie-stick today—pure sugar.

  ~*~

  Two hours later, we were sitting in the Hummer outside of a new coffee shop, this one aptly named The Bean Scene. I was seriously going to give St. Paul an award for having the cutest and most clever coffeehouse names ever.

  When we walked in, I spotted Bryce Stephens seated at a table, tapping his foot impatiently. A woman sat next to him. She was probably my age with long, reddish hair and nervous eyes. Lindsey, I realized.

  Bryce looked up and scowled. Weren’t reporters supposed to be friendly as a means of getting information?

  I introduced him and Candy as we sat down across from him. His scowl deepened, the expression clearly aimed at Candy this time. “I know you. You’re the girl who can never get enough attention.”

  Candy smiled without a care in the world. “Pleasure to see you, also. Charmed, I’m sure.”

  I introduced myself to Lindsey. She licked her lips as if nervous. I’d found Lindsey because Bryce had interviewed her for one of his articles. She’d been Danielle’s best friend from childhood on.

  “Bryce has been wanting to meet with me also, so when you called, I figured it was a sign and that I’d get it all over with at once,” she started. “I don’t really know what I can offer.”

  Did Bryce Stephens have a change of heart? He seemed to have no interest in revisiting this story when I spoke with him a couple of days ago. I put that thought aside and leaned toward Lindsey. “It’s like I told you on the phone. Someone’s desperate to make me believe that Danielle’s spirit is haunting the house. I’m trying to figure out what happened, so I can put an end to this craziness.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Lindsey said.

  “Could you tell me about Danielle, Lindsey?”

  “I used to know her back when she went to church. We used to sing in the youth band together.”

  “She sang?” I asked.

  “And played the guitar.”