by Tim LaHaye
She laughed. “Only had one steady. When I was a freshman in college, he was a senior. I thought it was love, but when he graduated, I never heard from him again.”
“Literally?”
“He went on some kind of an overseas trip, sent me a cheap souvenir, and that was the end of it. He’s married now.”
“His loss.”
“Thank you.”
Buck felt bolder. “What was he, blind?” She didn’t respond. Buck mentally kicked himself and tried to recover. “I mean, some guys don’t know what they have.”
She was still silent, and he felt like an idiot. How can I be so successful at some things and such a klutz at others? he wondered.
She stopped in front of a gourmet bakery shop. “You feel like a cookie?” she asked.
“Why? Do I look like one?”
“How did I know that was coming?” she said. “Buy me a cookie and I’ll let that groaner die a natural death.”
“Of old age, you mean,” he said.
“Now that was funny.”
Rayford was as earnest, honest, and forthright with Hattie as he had ever been. They sat across from each other in overstuffed chairs in the corner of a large, noisy room where they could not be heard by anyone else.
“Hattie,” he said, “I’m not here to argue with you or even to have a conversation. There are things I must tell you, and I want you just to listen.”
“I don’t get to say anything? Because there may be things I’ll want you to know, too.”
“Of course I’ll let you tell me anything you want, but this first part, my part, I don’t want to be a dialogue. I have to get some things off my chest, and I want you to get the whole picture before you respond, OK?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see how I have a choice.”
“You had a choice, Hattie. You didn’t have to come.”
“I didn’t really want to come. I told you that and you left that guilt-trip message, begging me to meet you here.”
Rayford was frustrated. “You see what I didn’t want to get into?” he said. “How can I apologize when all you want to do is argue about why you’re here?”
“You want to apologize, Rayford? I would never stand in the way of that.”
She was being sarcastic, but he had gotten her attention. “Yes, I do. Now will you let me?” She nodded. “Because I want to get through this, to set the record straight, to take all the blame I should, and then I want to tell you what I hinted at on the phone the other night.”
“About how you’ve discovered what the vanishings are all about.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t get ahead of me.”
“Sorry,” she said, putting her hand over her mouth. “But why don’t you just let me hear it when you answer Buck’s questions tonight?” Rayford rolled his eyes. “I was just wondering,” she said. “Just a suggestion so you don’t have to repeat yourself.”
“Thank you,” he said, “but I’ll tell you why. This is so important and so personal that I need to tell you privately. And I don’t mind telling it over and over, and if my guess is right, you won’t mind hearing it again and again.”
Hattie raised her eyebrows as if to say she would be surprised, but she said, “You have the floor. I won’t interrupt again.”
Rayford leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, gesturing as he spoke. “Hattie, I owe you a huge apology, and I want your forgiveness. We were friends. We enjoyed each other’s company. I loved being with you and spending time with you. I found you beautiful and exciting, and I think you know I was interested in a relationship with you.”
She looked surprised, but Rayford assumed that, had it not been for her pledge of silence, she would have told him he had a pretty laid-back way of showing interest. He continued.
“Probably the only reason I never pursued anything further with you was because I didn’t have any experience in such things. But it was only a matter of time. If I had found you willing, I’d have eventually done something wrong.” She furrowed her brow and looked offended.
“Yes,” he said, “it would have been wrong. I was married, not happily and not successfully, but that was my fault. Still, I had made a vow, a commitment, and no matter how I justified my interest in you, it would have been wrong.”
He could tell from her look that she disagreed. “Anyway, I led you on. I wasn’t totally honest. But now I have to tell you how grateful I am that I didn’t do something—well, stupid. It would not have been right for you either. I know I’m not your judge and jury, and your morals are your own decision. But there would have been no future for us.
“It isn’t just that we’re so far apart in age, but the fact is that the only real interest I had in you was physical. You have a right to hate me for that, and I’m not proud of it. I did not love you. You have to agree, that would have been no kind of a life for you.”
She nodded, appearing to cloud up. He smiled. “I’ll let you break your silence temporarily,” he said. “I need to know that you at least forgive me.”
“Sometimes I wonder if honesty is always the best policy,” she said. “I might have been able to accept this if you had just said your wife’s disappearance made you feel guilty about what we had going. I know we didn’t really have anything going yet, but that would have been a kinder way to put it.”
“Kinder but dishonest. Hattie, I’m through being dishonest. Everything in me would rather be kind and gentle and keep you from resenting me, but I just can’t be phony anymore. I was not genuine for years.”
“And now you are?”
“To the point where it’s unattractive to you,” he said. She nodded again. “Why would I want to do that? Everybody likes to be liked. I could have blamed this on something else, on my wife, whatever. But I want to be able to live with myself. I want to be able to convince you, when I talk about even more important things, that I have no ulterior motives.”
Hattie’s lips quivered. She pressed them together and looked down, a tear rolling down her cheek. It was all Rayford could do to keep from embracing her. There would be nothing sensual about it, but he couldn’t afford to give a wrong signal. “Hattie,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”
She nodded, unable to speak. She tried to say something but couldn’t regain her composure.
“Now, after all that,” Rayford said, “I somehow have to convince you that I do care for you as a friend and as a person.”
Hattie held up both hands, fighting not to cry. She shook her head, as if not ready for this. “Don’t,” she managed. “Not right now.”
“Hattie, I’ve got to.”
“Please, give me a minute.”
“Take your time, but don’t run from me now,” he said. “I would be no friend if I didn’t tell you what I’ve found, what I’ve learned, what I’m discovering more of each day.”
Hattie buried her face in her hands and cried. “I wasn’t going to do this,” she said. “I wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction.”
Rayford spoke as tenderly as he could. “Now you’re going to offend me,” he said. “If you take nothing else from this conversation, you must know that your tears give me no satisfaction. Every one of them is a dagger to me. I’m responsible. I was wrong.”
“Give me a minute,” she said, hurrying off.
Rayford dug out Irene’s Bible and quickly scanned some passages. He had decided not to sit talking to Hattie with the Bible open. He didn’t want to embarrass or intimidate her, despite his newfound courage and determination.
“You’re gonna find my dad’s theory of the disappearings very interesting,” Chloe said.
“Am I?” Buck said. She nodded and he noticed a dab of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. He said, “May I?” extending his hand. She raised her chin and he transferred the chocolate to his thumb. Now what should he do? Wipe it on a napkin? Impulsively he put his thumb to his lips.
“Gross!” she said. “How embarrassing! What if I have the creeping crud or
something?”
“Then now we’ve both got it,” he said, and they laughed. Buck realized he was blushing, something he hadn’t done for years, and so he changed the subject. “You say your dad’s theory, as if maybe it’s not yours, too. Do you two disagree?”
“He thinks we do, because I argue with him and give him a hard time about it. I just don’t want to be too easy to convince, but if I had to be honest, I’d have to say we’re pretty close. See, he thinks that—”
Buck held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I want to get it fresh from him, on the record.”
“Oh. Excuse me.”
“No, it’s OK. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but that’s just how I like to work. I’d love to hear your theory, too. We’re going to get some college kids’ ideas, but it would be unlikely we would use two people from the same family. Of course, you just told me that you pretty much agree with your father, so I’d better wait and hear them both at the same time.”
She had fallen silent and looked serious. “I’m sorry, Chloe, I didn’t mean to imply I’m not interested in your theory.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “But you just kind of categorized me there.”
“Categorized you?”
“As a college kid.”
“Ooh, I did, didn’t I? My fault. I know better. Collegians aren’t kids. I don’t see you as a kid, although you are a lot younger than I am.”
“Collegians? I haven’t heard that term in a while.”
“I am showing my age, aren’t I?”
“How old are you, Buck?”
“Thirty and a half, going on thirty-one,” he said with a twinkle.
“I say, how old are you?” she shouted, as if talking to a deaf old man. Buck roared.
“I’d buy you another cookie, little girl, but I don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
“You’d better not. My dad loves good food, and he’s buying tonight. Save room.”
“I will, Chloe.”
“Can I tell you something, without you thinking I’m weird?” she said.
“Too late,” he said.
She frowned and punched him. “I was just going to say that I like the way you say my name.”
“I didn’t know there was any other way to say it,” he said.
“Oh, there is. Even my friends slip into making it one syllable, like Cloy.”
“Chloe,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” she said. “Like that. Two syllables, long O, long E.”
“I like your name.” He slipped into an old man’s husky voice. “It’s a young person’s name. How old are you, kid?”
“Twenty and a half, going on twenty-one.”
“Oh, my goodness,” he said, still in character, “I’m consortin’ with a minor!”
As they headed back toward the Pan-Con Club, Chloe said, “If you promise not to make a big deal of my youth, I won’t make a big deal of your age.”
“Deal,” he said, a smile playing at his lips. “You play a lot older.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, smiling self-consciously as if she wasn’t sure he was serious.
“Oh, do,” he said. “Few people your age are as well-read and articulate as you are.”
“That was definitely a compliment,” she said.
“You catch on quick.”
“Did you really interview Nicolae Carpathia?”
He nodded. “We’re almost buddies.”
“No kidding?”
“Well, not really. But we hit it off.”
“Tell me about him.”
And so Buck did.
Hattie returned slightly refreshed but still puffy-eyed and sat again as if ready for more punishment. Rayford reiterated that he was sincere about his apology, and she said, “Let’s just put that behind us, shall we?”
“I need to know you forgive me,” he said.
“You seem really hung up on that, Rayford. Would that let you off the hook, ease your conscience?”
“I guess maybe it would,” he said. “Mostly it would tell me you believe I’m sincere.”
“I believe it,” she said. “It doesn’t make it any more pleasant or easier to take, but if it makes you feel better, I do believe you mean it. And I don’t hold grudges, so I guess that’s forgiveness.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he said. “Now I want to be very honest with you.”
“Uh-oh, there’s more? Or is this where you educate me about what happened last week?”
“Yeah, this is it, but I need to tell you that Chloe advised against getting into this right now.”
“In the same conversation as the, uh, other, you mean.”
“Right.”
“Smart girl,” she said. “We must understand each other.”
“Well, you’re not that far apart in age.”
“Wrong thing to say, Rayford. If you were going to use that you’re-young-enough-to-be-my-daughter approach, you should have brought it up earlier.”
“Not unless I fathered you when I was fifteen,” Rayford said. “Anyway, Chloe is convinced you’re not going to be in the mood for this just now.”
“Why? Does this require some reaction? Do I have to buy into your idea or something?”
“That’s my hope, but no. If it’s something you can’t handle right now, I’ll understand. But I think you’ll see the urgency of it.”
Rayford felt much like Bruce Barnes had sounded the day they met. He was full of passion and persuasion, and he felt his prayers for courage and coherence were answered as he spoke. He told Hattie of his history with God, having been raised in a churchgoing home and how he and Irene had attended various churches throughout their marriage. He even told her that Irene’s preoccupation with end-time events had been one thing that made him consider looking elsewhere for companionship.
Rayford could tell by Hattie’s look that she knew where he was going, that he had now come to agree with Irene and had bought the whole package. Hattie sat motionless as he told the story of knowing what he would find at home that morning after they had landed at O’Hare.
He told her of calling the church, meeting Bruce, Bruce’s story, the DVD, their studies, the prophecies from the Bible, the preachers in Israel that clearly paralleled the two witnesses spoken of in Revelation.
Rayford told her how he had prayed the prayer with the pastor as the DVD played and how he now felt so responsible for Chloe and wanted her to find God, too. Hattie stared at him. Nothing in her body language or expression encouraged him, but he kept going. He didn’t ask her to pray with him. He simply told her he would no longer apologize for what he believed.
“You can see, at least, how if a person truly accepts this, he must tell other people. He would be no friend if he didn’t.” Hattie wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of a nod to concede that point.
After nearly half an hour, he exhausted his new knowledge, and he concluded, “Hattie, I want you to think about it, consider it, watch the DVD, talk to Bruce if you want to. I can’t make you believe. All I can do is make you aware of what I have come to accept as the truth. I care about you and wouldn’t want you to miss out simply because no one ever told you.”
Finally, Hattie sat back and sighed. “Well, that’s sweet, Rayford. It really is. I appreciate your telling me all that. It hits me real strange and different, because I never knew that stuff was in the Bible. My family went to church when I was a kid, mostly on holidays or if we got invited, but I never heard anything like that. I will think about it. I sort of have to. Once you hear something like this, it’s hard to put it out of your mind for a while. Is this what you’re going to tell Buck Williams at dinner?”
“Word for word.”
She chuckled. “Wonder if any of it will find its way into his magazine.”
“Probably along with space aliens, germ gas, and death rays,” Rayford said.
CHAPTER 21
When Buck and Chloe reconnected with Hattie and Chloe’s father, it was cle
ar Hattie had been crying. Buck didn’t feel close enough to ask what was wrong, and she never offered.
Buck was glad for the opportunity to interview Rayford Steele, but his emotions were mixed. The reactions of the captain who had piloted the plane on which he had been a passenger when the disappearances occurred would add drama to his story. But even more, he wanted to spend time with Chloe. Buck would run back to the office, then home to change, and meet them later at the Carlisle. At the office he took a call from Stanton Bailey, asking how soon he could go to Chicago to get Lucinda Washington replaced. “Soon, but I don’t want to miss developments at the U.N.”
“Everything happening there tomorrow morning you already know about from Plank,” Bailey said. “Word I get is it’s already starting to come down. Plank assumes his new position in the morning, denies Carpathia’s interest, reiterates what it would take, and we all wait and see if anybody bites. I don’t think they will.”
“I wish they would,” Buck said, still hoping he could trust Carpathia and eager to see what the man would do about Stonagal and Todd-Cothran.
“I do, too,” Bailey said, “but what are the odds? He’s a man for this time, but his global disarmament and his reorganization plans are too ambitious. It’ll never happen.”
“I know, but if you were deciding, wouldn’t you go along with it?”
“Yeah,” Bailey said, sighing. “I probably would. I’m so tired of war and violence. I’d probably even go for moving the place to this New Babylon.”
“Maybe the U.N. delegates will be smart enough to know the world is ready for Carpathia,” Buck said.
“Wouldn’t that be too good to be true?” Bailey said. “Don’t bet the farm or hold your breath or whatever it is you’re not supposed to do when the odds are against you.”
Buck told his new boss he would fly to Chicago the next morning and get back to New York by Sunday night. “I’ll get the lay of the land, find out who’s solid in Chicago and whether we need to look at outside applicants.”
“I’d prefer staying inside,” Bailey said. “But it’s my style to let you make those decisions.”
