When Joy Came to Stay

by Karen Kingsbury

  Maggie. The thought of his wife caused him to close his eyes. His feelings for her seemed to change daily. Before her breakdown—if that’s what it was—Ben had loved her in a way he thought was unconditional. Then he’d learned the truth and before this meeting with Kathy Garrett he knew he’d have willingly accepted a divorce from her. Now he wanted nothing more than to sit down beside her and hold her, rock away the pain and pretense and…and what? Ben wasn’t sure how to feel anymore.

  Was he supposed to forgive her and act like none of it had ever happened? Like she hadn’t spent their lifetime together lying to him? Like she hadn’t refused his calls and visits and threatened divorce from the moment she left their home?

  His heart was so heavy it nearly forced him to the floor. With his eyes still closed, Ben willed his racing heart to slow down. Whatever the future held for him and Maggie, dwelling on it would have to wait. There was something more important at hand now. “I’d like to meet her, Ms. Garrett. Is that possible?”

  “I assume you’re her biological father? Is that right?”

  Here it was. The question of the hour. How many more times in his life would he have to address the fact that his wife had gotten pregnant by another man the year before they were married? He sighed and tugged on his chin, running his thumb and forefinger over his day-old beard. “No. I didn’t know about the baby until recently.”

  There was a pause. “I thought—”

  “She…Maggie saw someone else before we got engaged.”

  The woman’s eyes widened a fraction, and she seemed at a loss for words. Ben inhaled deeply. He no longer cared what Maggie had done or about any of the lies she’d told. He cared only for this little girl, battered and without a home, the daughter of his wife.

  And of a man who nearly killed you…

  He shook his head. Even that didn’t matter. He could hardly contain the sudden, inexplicable love he felt for the child, love that had no reason except that it was. “Does it matter? Can I see her anyway, for a few minutes?”

  The woman’s eyes twinkled. “If you only knew her, Mr. Stovall; she’s the sweetest child I’ve ever worked with.”

  Again his heart swelled. “Well, then…”

  Ms. Garrett shifted uneasily in her chair and her face fell. “I don’t think it’s possible, not legally anyway. Now, if you were a licensed foster parent interested in an interview so that—”

  “Wait a minute!” Ben’s heart was instantly light in a way it hadn’t been since he’d found Maggie’s note in their bedroom. “I am a licensed foster parent. Since we couldn’t have our own kids, Maggie and I have been taking in foster kids for the past two years.”

  “In Ohio?”

  “Yes, in Cleveland.” Maybe he would get to meet the girl after all. And then maybe…He forced his thoughts not to race ahead. This wasn’t the time to be planning the girl’s future. She might not even want to meet him or care to know the whereabouts of her real mother. It was all so overwhelming, yet the thought of meeting her—holding her the way he had dreamed of holding his own children one day—filled him with hope.

  Kathy Garrett’s grin worked its way across her entire face. “Are you serious?”

  “Check the computer.” He pulled out his wallet, ripped his driver’s license from inside, and tossed it to the social worker. As he did so he remembered the old guy at the breakfast bar an hour earlier. “Make every moment count…every moment…”

  He was trying. God help him, he was trying.

  Another smile flashed across Kathy’s face. “You’re in!”

  Hope washed over Ben. Not that it made any sense. Not that the situation with Maggie was any less real or true or devastating now. But he welcomed the hope all the same. “Well?”

  Ms. Garrett rested her forearms on her desk and turned to face him with a mock businesslike expression. “All right then, Mr. Stovall…about that foster child you’d like to meet.” She grinned again. “How about this afternoon?”

  Twenty-five

  LESS THAN TWO HOURS AFTER BEN STOVALL WALKED INTO THE Cincinnati County Courthouse, the phone rang in John McFadden’s suburban, middle-class home.

  “He’s here, just like you said.”

  It was Alfie; John recognized his buddy’s voice immediately and felt a surge of vengeful relief. He could always count on the boys; any time he needed a favor they came through.

  “You sure it’s him?”

  “You bet, boss. Everything lines up. Signed his name on the information request form and everything.”

  So, Stovall wanted the kid after all. John chuckled softly; his plan was taking shape nicely. “Who talked? The curvaceous redhead?”

  Alfie chuckled long and hard. “Is that what Mikey told you?” His laugh grew until he sounded like an excited donkey. “She was curvaceous all right. Sixty extra pounds curvaceous.”

  John enjoyed these lighter moments with the boys. Dealing was so tense sometimes, what with worrying about authorities, guarding the stash so no one took more than the right amount along the way, making sure the goods were as pure as promised. Too many details. But this was more enjoyable than John had expected. “What’d you do, promise her a date?”

  “Nah, Mike went in a few days ago and flashed a hundred. Dame about wet her pants. Got all secretive, looking both ways, making sure no one was watching. Mikey slipped her his cell phone number, told her to call if a Ben Stovall came to the courthouse for any reason at all.” Alfie stopped laughing and struggled to catch his breath. “I think she liked the attention, boss, know what I mean? I bet she’da done it for ten bucks, you know?”

  John smiled. If Ben Stovall intended to shut down his operation, the bribe was money well spent. He’d reimburse the boys with cash from the next shipment. “She took the money?”

  “Right. Mikey promised another hundred if she delivered the information. We got the call just after noon today.”

  “Nice work. Tell Mikey there’ll be two loads for him, free, in the next shipment and—”

  Alfie hooted loudly. “Two loads, boss? Free? Hey, Mike’ll like that. We thought we was doin’ this just for the—”

  “I’m not finished.” John paused. He liked the boys, but sometimes they tested his patience—especially Alfie, who had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. “I was about to say all I need from you boys is a little surveillance work. Grab a pen and write this down.”

  “Surveillance?” Alfie’s tone went blank.

  “Yeah, you know, follow the social worker—Kathy Garrett’s her name. Find out who she is; watch the parking lot and follow her home. And look out for Ben Stovall. You writing this down, Alfie?”

  “Sure boss, yeah. I’m writing. How’m I gonna know what Stovall looks like?”

  “He’s dark-haired, tall, good build, I guess. Looks like Mr. Corporate America. Clean cut, harmless face. My guess is he’ll be with the social worker.”

  “Social worker…” Alfie hesitated. “Oh, right. Kathy Garrett. Okay, I got it.”

  “Pass the information on to Mikey, will ya?”

  “Sure, boss, we’re on it.”

  McFadden’s heart pounded as he calculated how little time he had to face the judge and make a plea as the child’s long-lost father. “Call me when you find Stovall and then update me every time they go anywhere.”

  “Like driving, you mean?”

  John sighed. “Right, Alfie. In the car, on foot. Anytime they go anywhere let me know.” His mind raced ahead. “Oh, and one more thing. They might have a little girl with them. Seven or eight years old, something like that.”

  There was a pause, but Alfie didn’t ask for any details. That was one of the things John liked best about Alfie and Mike: They never asked questions when they shouldn’t. “Okay, boss. A little girl. What’s she look like?”

  John thought a moment and again a chuckle sifted up from his gut. “Like me, Alfie, okay? Watch for a kid that looks like me.”

  Alfie thought that was even funnier than the bi
t about the redhead. He guffawed so loudly John had to move the receiver away from his ear.

  “Hey, boss. Really, now. What’s she look like?”

  “She looks like a little girl, Alfie. Never mind. Just call me, will ya?”

  “Cell phone, right?”

  “Right. I’m leaving in an hour, and I’ll check into a room somewhere in town when I get there.”

  John moved to open the suitcase on his bed and began tossing in socks and underwear and T-shirts. Enough to last a week, at least. If it took longer than that, something definitely would have gone wrong. In that case, he didn’t want to think about what clothes he’d be wearing, since they’d probably be issued by the local jail.

  “Understand?”

  “Right o, boss. Got it all down on paper right in front of me. Uh, hey boss…two loads? You sure about that?”

  “Absolutely. You and Mike just make sure you get hold of Kathy Garrett before she takes off early and we miss her altogether. I want her followed today, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  McFadden hung up the phone and made a mental list of the things he would need. At least one nice pair of pants and a dressy shirt—one of the silk deals he’d picked up in Vegas last year would work. Just right for showing the judge he was the fatherly type.

  He’d get to town, request an emergency hearing, and explain the situation to the judge. The suitcase already held the results of a quick but pricey DNA test done the previous week. Of course, the results would match those on the adoption papers—there was no doubt he was the kid’s father. He’d present the test and give the court a teary-eyed report on how he’d looked high and low for the girl with no luck until now.

  Oh, yeah, and that he’d absolutely begged Maggie Johnson to keep the child, but Maggie had tricked him, moved to another part of the state and handed off the baby without his having any say in the matter. All he’d ever wanted was to claim his rightful spot as the baby’s father.

  And now here he was, prepared to do just that.

  Yes, that’s exactly what he’d tell the judge. And with the kid stuck in Social Services, what better timing?

  Another chuckle slithered to the surface as John shut his suitcase. He figured he’d get a meeting with the judge by tomorrow. Matters involving children tended to get precedence. At least that’s what the redhead had told Mikey. Then it’d be just a matter of hours before John and Ben Stovall met again. The do-good lawyer could have the brat for all he cared, but first he’d have to pay up.

  McFadden ambled across his expansive bedroom, pulled open the top drawer of a mahogany chest, and grabbed the loaded revolver. If Plan A worked, he wouldn’t need it. Stovall would give him the cash and make the call to Cleveland police withdrawing the assault charges. That done, John would happily make his way back home.

  If Plan A failed, though, he was prepared.

  One way or another, Stovall was going to cooperate. Even if it meant taking the kid by force.

  Twenty-six

  IN THE TEN MINUTES MAGGIE HAD TO CLEAN UP BEFORE MEETING with Dr. Camas, she went to her private room and locked herself in the bathroom. She brushed her teeth to rid her mouth of the stale smell of vomit, and when she was finished, she leaned forward against the countertop and stared at her face in the mirror.

  Nothing.

  Not a single thing about her face or her eyes resembled the tenderhearted young girl who had attended that picnic so many years ago, when she first fell in love with Ben Stovall. Back then her dark blond hair and lithe, attractive figure were only added benefits. Her real beauty had come from somewhere deep within. It was something that burst through her smile and radiated from her eyes, something that made her face alive with the vibrancy of hope and the expectant promise of her future.

  Maggie studied herself. How different would she look now if she’d told Ben the truth? Okay, so she’d made a mistake. She’d done the one thing a good Christian girl is never supposed to do: She’d had sex. But wasn’t Ben supposed to forgive her?

  She let the question dangle in her mind for a moment, and the answer was clear. They’d only been friends back then. Ben might have forgiven her, but he wouldn’t have had any obligation to marry her. He very simply would have offered his condolences and moved on with his life. Without Maggie. He’d made it clear: He was looking to marry a woman of virtue, a virgin, plain and simple. Girls who gave up their purity were a dime a dozen, and Ben planned to hold out for someone like himself.

  Someone with a modicum of self-control when it came to things of the flesh.

  She drew back from the mirror, taking in her lifeless lip-line and the hardness around her eyes. She was still pretty, she knew. Fit, polished, store-bought. But no amount of money could undo the years of lies and the poison they’d bled into her system. No, the light that once burned inside her, the flame of youth and faith and hope and promise, had been extinguished long ago.

  And it was all Ben’s fault.

  I hate him, God…He never loved me, not a single moment Not for me, anyway.

  Let no deceit come from you.

  Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, and the Scripture faded. Just as well. She didn’t have time to think about it. She needed to be in Dr. Camas’s office in two minutes.

  He was waiting as usual when she entered the room, calmly, coolly, so that the peace and confidence than ran through him fairly filled the air. Being in his presence made Maggie feel safe and warm, and as she sat down she exhaled slowly.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Dr. Camas smiled, and Maggie knew this conversation would be slow and meaningful, like all her discussions with him. “Yes.” He shifted his position so that he faced her squarely, crossing one leg over the other knee, clearly relaxed. “It was something you said in group.”

  “I figured.”

  The doctor cocked his head curiously “Figured what?”

  “The part about wanting a divorce. I figured that’d get a rise out of somebody in a Christian hospital like Orchards.”

  Doctor Camas’s expression remained the same. “Actually it wasn’t that at all. You should know by now, Maggie, we aren’t here to force morality on you. That’s a choice you have to make, something between you and God. We’re here to help you unravel your feelings because the knot you brought into this place was making you sick, remember?”

  She felt like a petulant junior high student, and her cheeks grew hot under his gaze. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Dr. Camas picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser a few times on his desk, his gaze still on Maggie. “No need to apologize. I just want to make sure you’re clear on our roles.”

  If they aren’t pushing me to do the right thing, then what was I feeling in the bathroom before I was sick? Maggie struggled with the question, but realized Dr. Camas was waiting for her response. “Okay I’m clear. So what’d I tell group that made you think I was making progress?”

  He caught his chin in his forefinger and thumb in a gesture that had become strangely comforting to Maggie. “You said you hate your husband.”

  Maggie’s defenses rose and anger burned in her gut. “Don’t I have a right? After all he expected of me and all it’s caused me in my life, don’t I have a—”

  “Maggie…” He waited until he had her attention. “Did I put a judgment on your statement?”

  She thought back a moment. It had to be wrong, making a statement like that about her husband. Didn’t it? “No. I guess not. But it isn’t exactly godly, telling a group of strangers that you hate your husband.”

  A faint smile turned the corners of the doctor’s lips upward. “No, it isn’t. But it means you’re willing to talk about more than what happened.”

  Her heart filled with uncertainty, and she blinked twice, waiting for the doctor to continue. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning in the past you’ve talked about what happened between you and Ben. You talked about your pregnancy and how it felt to give your daughter up for adoption.” Dr. Camas paused, and
Maggie dropped her gaze to her hands and felt the familiar pit in her stomach. Where are you, precious baby girl? She couldn’t take much discussion about the adoption now, not when she was dying to get out of Orchards and begin taking steps to find the child.

  The doctor cleared his throat and she looked up again. “What you seldom talked about was how you felt about Ben. Until now.” He leveled his gaze at her. “Okay, Maggie, go along with me for a minute here, will you?”

  She nodded.

  “Why do you hate your husband?”

  “Because he expected me to be perfect.” There was anger in her voice again, but she didn’t care. There would never be a better time or place to talk about this.

  “He thought you were a virgin.”

  “No, he expected me to be one. There’s a difference.” Maggie could feel her cheeks growing hot again.

  “And since you weren’t, you lied to him.”

  “I loved him! I had no choice.”

  The room filled with the ticking sound of Dr. Camas’s wrist-watch. “What if you’d told him the truth?” The question was calm and measured and unquestionably reasonable.

  Maggie huffed and crossed her legs in a blur of motion. “He’d have moved on to someone else.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.” Who did Dr. Camas think he was, second-guessing her and acting like he knew Ben better than she did? “He was going to marry a virgin, no matter what.”

  Dr. Camas leaned back in his chair. “Let’s try something for a minute.”

  A sigh escaped and Maggie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This entire line of questioning was pointless. What was done was done. She hated Ben for forcing her hand, forcing her to give up her baby girl and to live nearly eight years of lies in order to appease his appetite for perfection.

  The doctor was waiting and Maggie knew she had no choice but to go along. “Fine.”