David Lewis, Beverly Lewis Sanctuary Sanctuary Sanctuary Copyright 2001 , Beverly & David Lewis Cover illustration and design by Dan Thornberg This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the authors' imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. Published by Bethany House Publishers A Ministry of Bethany Fellowship International 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota SS438 w ww.bethanyhou se. corn Printed in the United States of America ISBN 0-7642-2511-1 (Hardcover)7<=y y&i/-is .; The Redemption of Sarah Cain Sanctuary* The Sunroom *with David Lewis9(/l &w 4^i^ (yCu4^tiy^ BEVERLY and DAVID LEWIS grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania and Aberdeen, South Dakota, respectively. [They met and married in Colorado, where they make their home in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, enjoying fcheir three grown children and one grandchild. 10 the perfect blend of her personality: her eager embrace of Rut urc and her gentle spirit with a little twinkle in her eye. ( Hosing the necklace case, he slipped it into his coat pocket, liking care to lock his executive desk in the middle of a spacious Irfliiv. The office, located on the second floor of a large converted w'irt.orian house, stood a mere block from the Mystic River liul^e on Route 1. I In the reception area, Margaret Dyson, a plump fifty-fivemfi',\\ old woman with gray-peppered brown hair, rapidly clicked It lie keys of her computer. Bernie Stanton, the boss, was sheltered Ih (he confines of his own office on the other side of the lobby. |A Krim man who barked military-style instructions at the be||inning of the day, Bernie often beat a hasty retreat to his own Kjtvinhly decorated domain. Only occasionally did he emerge to Welcome clients, usually those of renowned affluence. I Marge tolerated Bernie's sour behavior because, as she sucIfiiKily put it, "He pays well. If it wasn't for your fresh and Miicndly face, Ryan, I'd be looking for a cheerful boss." Ryan, on the other hand, didn't mind Bernie's temperament. I1 Ir clearly remembered a time, not so long ago, when Bernie w.w known to smile, long before pressures of work had con- | hi lined him, destroying Bernie's marriage of thirty-five years in (In- process. More significantly, Bernie appreciated Ryan's in\r:,inmnt savvy, delegating most of the important investment In i:;ions to him. "That's it for me," Ryan announced to Marge, closing the iluor to his office. "Any plans for the weekend?" "My grandson Brandon's visiting from New Haven," she u-plied without looking up. "We're headed for the seaport . . . ttuain." She grimaced. "Why don't you talk him into going to the beach instead?" 17 18 "What, and lose most-favored-grandma status? No thanks." Marge smiled and turned to Ryan, a knowing look on her face. "Hey, it's tonight, eh?" "Got it right here." Ryan tapped the necklace case in his pocket. "Expensive enough, I'll bet?" "Would've paid more." "My, my. Aren't we still in love." Marge winked. "By the way, isn't your college friend coming out this weekend?" "Denny flies in tomorrow. Providence airport." Marge nodded, obviously remembering his friend. "Still talks a lot about church?" "Denny's a good man, just a little overboard about religion." "Sees a goblin in every closet?" Marge chuckled. "More like a devil in every heart." "One of those extreme types." "Yeah. Hellflre and brimstone and all that." "You could use a little church yourself," Marge said, making an impish face. Ryan forced a smile. "Don't start." "By the way," she replied, changing the subject, "now that you're in the habit of buying jewelry, let me remind you Secretary's Day is coming up." "You mean the usual paperweight won't do?" Ryan gave a smirk. Marge laughed heartily at that, and they continued their banter. Ryan was anything but stingy, and Marge knew it. Last year, to celebrate Secretary's Day, Ryan had convinced Bernie to send Marge, her daughter, and grandson to the Bahamas for a five-day reprieve. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Marge had sent daily postcards to the office until she returned bearing souvenirs and gifts. Tanned and refreshed, she had taken one look at the pile of work on her desk and frowned mischievously. "Miss me?" 19 "I )oe8 a fish miss the sea?" Ryan had replied. He smiled at the memory and reached for the doorknob. "Don't get any ideas about another vacation. We almost fell Ipnrt Iu're without you." Miii'^e nodded. "Takes a man of character to admit how I milch lie needs his secretary." "An honest man," he said softly, waving good-bye. He was ml in I In hear Marge chuckle, basking, no doubt, in the pride of Him linprnsability. |ni Ryan parallel parked in front of Mystic Florist. There he |m< IuhI up Melissa's rose bouquet, hurried back to the car, hopHii', lo miss the traffic jam at the drawbridge, and headed east on Route 1. But his timing was off. The light changed to red mi,I he heard the loud whistle as the Mystic River drawbridge I < i'..in to rise. He was sure to be stuck in traffic for a good ten liiiiuil.es, at least. Tapping the steering wheel, he thought ahead In I Jenny's scheduled arrival tomorrow. I >ennis Franklin was an unusual specimen. A bachelor, J)eniiy had played college football and nearly made the pros. J lin I 11 not been for a minor knee problem, his best friend might have wound up playiag for the Denver Broncos. Instead, Denny htul worked for a while in security before landing a teaching job in a Denver high school. Quite a comedown for some guys, but mil: for Denny. His thing was religion now. He attended church three times N week, even conducted street meetings on the weekend in Denver ghettos. A big man six feet five Denny commanded reHpcct wherever and whenever he opened his mouth. Melissa liked Denny. During his last visit, she'd peppered him with questions. Naturally, the preacher-man was happy to oblige. Though Ryan had never admitted it, Melissa's obvious 20* E Y ly & D a t i d Lew interest in religion made him uncomfortable. Much to his relief, she'd dropped the discussion once Denny left for home, and things soon returned to normal. Waiting for the boat traffic to pass and the drawbridge to be lowered, Ryan thought about the weekend ahead. In the past, he'd enjoyed discussing philosophy and religion with Denny. But lately, Denny's incessantly exuberant, sometimes obnoxious, attitude had finally gotten to him. Not in a bad way. In fact, Denny's arguments had become . . . more intriguing. Perhaps it was time to settle whether or not Christianity had merit. To let Denny make his case, then dismiss it once and for all. The drawbridge settled into place, and cars began to move slowly across in both directions. Ryan drove less than a mile to Lord's Point their home in silence. Built along the beach, the house was a cedar-shingled two-story cape. Thanks to Melissa, the yard boasted a smorgasbord of flowers pansies lining the walkway, marigolds against the house. Fuchsia baskets hung from the eaves. A paradise of color. Ryan parked his SUV beside the small one-car garage, reached over to the passenger side, and seized the bouquet for Mellie. Daisy, her usual eager self, met him at the kitchen door. "Hey, girl!" He stooped to pet the oscillating dog with his free hand. Daisy barked her welcome, panting as she followed Ryan to the kitchen. Placing the flowers on the counter, Ryan reached for the large vase in the cupboard and set about arranging the bouquet. When he finished, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Satisfied, he called to Melissa. "Sweetheart, I'm home." He poured water into Daisy's bowl and scooped dog food into her dish, waiting for Melissa to emerge from one room or another. Daisy scrambled over, nudged Ryan aside, and began gulping the food with loud chomping sounds, the sides of her golden body contracting with each voracious swallow. "Easy girl. There's more where that came from." - .' . 21 [With ImioV . feu nr<-!iiu i- ^H tmi), p.i.i' i-ii ^B liy n wall <>l Hewltm- lo lu ^^(111 ( llc< Icd < H til lilt' loom If Sam; t ii mi v ilnl lot 1.1 h" sun pordi where Melissa often curled ill' Iki < I iary. C )n occasion, she set up her easel, lu- |i.iiniii)i>s of flowers and ocean scenery, as well. .11111 I >v | >lump-cushioned wicker chairs, was dom'.ill ol windows facing the ocean. Melissa, however, l<> Ik- seen. c l<< (I (.he downstairs basement. The pool table, ceniDoni, was surrounded by Melissa's framed floral ^^Htlip.n. |)c;;|)ite his frequent encouragement, she refused to ^^Htln-in upstairs on the main level, claiming she wasn't ready ^^Hpiiuu* lime" exposure. ^^Kttlliii(> to her again, he strolled to the laundry room, ex^^InU to hear his lovely wife humming to herself as she folded ^^Hj*n, Instead, the room was deserted, the laundry appliances ^Ht, empty. ^^Jtu'k upstairs, he wandered through the house to the back^^B| where Melissa often tended her garden. The smell of salt ^^1 Mt4Hweed mingled with the wail of a distant sea gull. Across ^Hyard to the south, George, their retired neighbor, puffed on ^H((iir &ftd raked his own small portion of the sandy beach, P'tltvimialy frustrated with the recent storm deposit of fresh sea- - .-I'd, (ieorge nodded casually, then went back to work. Ryan did not find Melissa sitting on the dock, her feet dan- ||l)ng off the edge,,feeding the resident swans that often showed Up for dinner. NoT was she napping in their tiny sailboat, docked ^ the pier, as he'd once discovered her on a lazy afternoon Hking fallen asleep to gentle, shifting waves. ^H Ryan trudged up the slope to the garage, Daisy trailing close ^Bhind. Opening the door, he poked his nose inside. The space Hr Melissa's car was vacant. W "Why didn't you tell me, eh, Golden Nose?" 1 Daisy looked up as if to say, You didn't ask. I Ryan chuckled. Melissa was probably out running an errand liomewhere. That was all. There was something strange about her being gone at this hour, though. On a Friday especially. He 22 knew how she despised rush hour, liked to be home before he arrived for their weekend together. He climbed the deck stairway leading into the house and went to the master bedroom. He showered in preparation for the evening, sure she would be back when he emerged. As he dressed and fumbled with his shirt collar and tie, his gaze fell on the dresser. A note was propped against the lamp. Reaching for it, he scarcely recognized the scribble as Melissa's. Certainly, this was not her usual flowing script. He held the note, read the hurried message. The growing dread turned to panic. 23K^^fpr^n4-e^ && i IK'U GOTTEN A JUMP on late-afternoon traffic. Interstate I he fast lane was exceptionally wide open, yet she rejected ill- 111ge to speed. Not one to push her limits, not while driving, M> I'-i.'ia kept her focus on the roadway and her rearview mirror. 'In" did not relish the thought of encountering the hubbub Hl i I ongestion of New York's rush hour, though she and Ryan nll< H look this route to one Broadway show or another, to the Uii Her district. Always on the weekend when traffic seemed des- Hhfd to crawl. H I Inable to peruse _the road atlas at the moment, she contem- Hltt'tl from memoryan alternate route through the city. In the Hit, when considering her options should she ever need to es- lp>', she had never fully settled on where she would go. Any ^inber of places might offer a safe haven until someone rec- Bjnized her, caught up with her . . . again. She hated to think of inning. After her brief sojourn in Connecticut, she was, once .tin, a fugitive among strangers. She turned her thoughts to Ryan, her dear husband and best iiu'nd. What was he doing now? Reading her scrawled note, ondering just what sort of woman he'd married? How she minsed him. The emptiness, the isolation, was nearly unbear- 24 able. With each mile, the hollow feeling swelled, seeping into even the most insignificant crevices of her soul. She glanced in her mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary. Only cars, dozens of them. None whose drivers looked familiar. Breathe easy, she told herself. She had to calm down. Just how long she might be gone from husband and home, she did not know. She had planned ahead, though, withdrawing enough money now hidden away on her person to coast for several months or more. Ryan wouldn't have minded. Her husband was a highly resourceful businessman, seemed to have a knack for turning everything he touched into gold. The Midas touch, their friends often joked. From the earliest days of their marriage, she and Ryan had never wanted for anything. Just days before their wedding, he'd told her that she could work . . . "but only if you care to. We can easily make it with one income, if you prefer to stay home." So to work or not to work had been entirely her choice. She had grinned back at him, their discussion turning to the all-important decision of who was to cook and clean house if she did choose to find a job. At the time, she wondered if he was hinting, hoping for a baby right away. But the topic of children hadn't come up. In fact, there was never any dialogue about their future offspring. Actually, though, she was glad they'd had this rather unspoken pact. Now, at twenty-six as she ran for her life, the thought of having a toddler in tow was anything but pleasant. Adjusting the mirror, she studied the car directly behind her, straining to see the vehicle behind that car, as well. She recalled, as a girl she'd often wondered about her father's obsession with his rearview mirror. The notion that he was a fidgety driver seemed to hang in her memory. How old was she the first time she mentioned something to him? Seven . . . maybe a little younger? Anyway, Daddy had been deep in thought as he drove her to school. Hers was a small private school on the outskirts of 25 hiwHi I'nliTier Lake, Colorado. The Montessori school, where lm (hulled music, art, and creative play, was an elite institution. I h* \\\me was staffed with good, solid instructors "the best * lu' iiurN money can buy," Daddy often said. But he never | < i -i. 11 tihout having money. Not to anyone. Melissa never sus|Wm ii I ill those days that she and her widowed father were wellHt1 1 11iinKing lanes, she remembered a particular drive to the U<....I, "What's wrong with the mirror, Daddy?" she'd asked. Hhti illy a warm and gentle man, he had seemed fairly perturbed H in r question and surprised her with staid silence. He continH|>l iti peer into the mirror, touching it many times, especially Hi I" red lights along the way. She had not pressed it further. H -nme things are best left alone, she now decided, making a Him.>!]' the road in front of a police station to consult her road Hii|> If someone, by chance, were tracking her, the pursuit H"1'1' have to cease at least for now. A wise move, and she " ululated herself for it. She had not given careful thought H i"|iping for food, drink, and other necessities. After all, poWf < tat ions were few and far between when you needed them. 27 jL&Urt, I I k HAT ON THE EDGE OF THE BED, dumbfounded. fti the note, he tried to make sense of Melissa's message. MfM Ryan, I j have no choice but to leave now. I can't explain why. Mlxc trust me ... don't look for me. And try not to worry. I I love you, I Melissa in raked hiiThand through his hair and reread the note, i ilely seeking the comprehension that evaded him. What (It was happening? What was she thinking? i mind raced back to this morning when he'd kissed her I vi* Nothing in Melissa's sleepy smile nor her tender kiss ulicated that she was troubled or ... what? That she was iplalirifi leaving me? ah Hhook his head, as if trying to shift his brain into high I Iftd something occurred between then and now? He rose tumbled to the closet, searching for signs, clues. As exI, Melissa's wardrobe dominated the closet dresses, blouses, skirts, jeans, and sweaters. Shoes galore. Nothing A out of place. 28 L e i i Then he noticed the top shelf, where various seasonal handbags and two fanny packs were neatly stowed. An empty space indicated an overnight case was missing. So she'd taken something along. He descended the stairs to the living room and began to pace the floor, massaging his already tense shoulder muscles. He read the note again, attempting to read between the lines. / have no choice but to leave now. . . . Now? Did that mean she might return? And if so, when? I can't explain. . . . If she had to leave, why not explain? Why leave him desperate and wondering miserably? Quickly, Ryan ticked off the typical reasons why a woman left a man. He was positive there was no other man in her life. She was not fleeing an abusive marriage. . . . So had she lost her ability to think clearly? Was that it? He'd read of cases where people suddenly sometimes overnight lost their capacity to reason, to think. In a panic, they ran away, only to be found later, wandering the streets in a strange fugue, whispering of phantom strangers. But Melissa had exhibited no sign of a nervous breakdown, stress, or encroaching mental illness. Suddenly, he recalled their weekend plans with Denny. Now totally out of the question. Denny just couldn't come, not with Melissa gone running from some real or imagined terror. Thoughts wavering, Ryan picked up the phone and dialed. Denny tossed several pairs of jeans into the duffel bag, headed to his closet, and removed four T-shirts. Nearly all the shirts had Christian phrases or Scripture verses printed on them. He packed his clothing, wondering how to prepare for New England's fickle weather. Summers were normally hot in Connecticut, even toward the end of August, but more recently, Ryan had said, they had been plagued with days of unrelenting cloudy, cool weather. "Unusual for paradise, " Ryan had joked. 29 Denny threw in a sweatshirt and a couple pairs of shorts, |iimI in case. Hopefully, sultry beach weather awaited him. He i mild use a few days of sunny relaxation. Along with his Bible, Denny was taking a copy of C. S. I wis's Mere Christianity. Last time Melissa had involved him in a deep discussion of the claims of Christ. He had been pleased to find her far more receptive than he would have guessed. But the newly purchased book wasn't for her. She wasn't interested 111 didn't require either logical or philosophical reasoning as to faith. Ryan, however, lived in the skeptical world of prove it to me. But the bigger question remained: Would Ryan even read the book? Doubtful. Denny packed it anyway, in case the subject came up. He grinned. With him, the subject of Jesus always seemed to come up. It was unavoidable, impossible to remain silent about something that mattered so much to him. Even with strangers he met on the streets, Denny usually brought up the matter of Christ li-licately. Well, as delicately as possible for a man his size. There were times when he regretted not getting into profestonal football. Not because he still craved fame or money, but I cause of the missed opportunity as a sports pro to influence mils for the kingdom. Presently, he spent after-school hours and weekends with 111 mbled teens, many who literally lived on the street. There was no greater joy than to roll up his sleeves, get down and get duty and make a difference in the life of a needy boy or girl. I lelping with food and shelter. Offering a listening ear. Truly riiring about their problems. But lately he felt exhausted, needed time to reflect, to rec harge. This chance to fly to the East Coast and hang out with Ryan and his wife had come at a most opportune time. Besides, this getaway would give him time to think through some of his own issues, especially his relationship with Evelyn and the possibility of marriage. Denny dialed his bedroom phone and reached Evelyn Reed on the second ring. 30 "Are you packed yet, handsome?" she asked after she heard his greeting. Hearing her voice was like coming home. She worked nearly around the clock at Denver's Children's Hospital as a nurse, the ideal career for her, a woman with a nurturing and gentle soul. It didn't hurt his feelings that Evelyn liked to refer to him as handsome, even though he knew he wasn't that good-looking. For one thing, he was slick bald. The fact that she thought he was attractive was all a red-blooded American male like Denny needed to know. "I'm having second thoughts," he replied grimly. "About going?" "About leaving you behind." "I'll be fine, you big lug. It's only for a few days, right?" "Suppose so." She was silent for a moment, then "I'll be praying for you, Denny. And for your friends Ryan and Melissa, too, that everything goes well." They chatted a bit longer before he said a reluctant goodbye, hung up, and finished packing. He hadn't left town yet, and already he missed her. The phone rang again. Denny pounced on the receiver. Probably Evelyn calling back. "Hey, hon ..." "Uh . . . Denny, it's Ryan." "What's up? Change your mind about my visit?" Denny joked, aware of the hesitancy in Ryan's voice. "Well . . . actually, yeah." Denny frowned. "Hey, I was just kidding." "I'm not. Listen, this isn't going to be a good weekend, after all." "That's cool." Then, sensing an ominous heaviness in his friend's voice, quickly added, "Everything okay there?" Ryan sighed audibly. "Not exactly." "What's wrong, man?" 31 Denny was stunned to learn about Melissa's disappearance. I you guys have a fight or something?" 'No, listen . . . uh, I need to get going. Sorry, we'll talk lit! "I'll call back tonight, okay? You've got me worried." Uyun hung up abruptly, leaving Denny puzzled. Ryan and Iinnu were the "perfect couple." What could have gone >Uf' I >enny pushed the suitcase to the other side of his bed. unptly, he lowered himself to the floor, kneeling like a school\\ mid began to pray. I Ryan disconnected with Denny and considered his next HiiiiHe of action. He tried to put himself in his wife's shoes. m\ U<'te would I go if I were Mellie? he wondered. I I te considered getting into the car and driving around to look ||i<> her, just to be doing something. But he thought better of it. II I. needed to be near the phone in case she called. I I )aisy padded to Ryan's chair, rested her chin on his knee, frt"! whined softly. Ryan rubbed her golden fur and her floppy [ lor a minute, then picked up the phone, dialing Melissa's |l ' girlfriend, Alice Graham. Ali. | She answered on the third ring, and Ryan explained the sit- ly lion as matter-of-factly as he could. Ali's reaction was utter ||hock, disbelief. "This is nuts. She left a note?" I Ryan read the note to her, which brought a little gasp. "I Ifiin't believe this," she whispered. I "The two of you were together for lunch today, right?" he |H i rssed. ' "Yeah . . ." She paused. "Oh no . . ." "What?" "1 don't know ... it didn't make sense to me at the time, lull now " 32 "What happened?" "At the restaurant. We hadn't even finished eating, and . . . she just suddenly wanted to get going. Said she wasn't feeling well, so she got up and left, just like that. Left me sitting there alone. She seemed a little pale. I called later to check up, but she wasn't home." "What time was that?" Ryan asked, his heart slamming the walls of his chest. Ali seemed to hesitate. "I guess around two o'clock or so." Ryan blocked out the rest of the conversation. Melissa . . . sick? Why hadn't she told him? What had happened today? 33 1 ME HIGHWAY HAD BECOME A LONG and monotoHMtii box- a rectangular shape, as though the pavement stretch Stiy out before her were the base; the blue of the sky, the top; Himply could not afford the risk of entrapment. Ho she listened* intently for reports of serious snags on the ijor roads leading into the Big Apple. Populated areas were < *(;, she'd decided. After all, a driver could lose herself in the "i.iyhem of rush hour. And in an emergency, attention could t lily be diverted elsewhere. Calculating a host of worrisome ih. nights, she weaved in and out of traffic as afternoon hurtled > vurd evening. Any day but Friday, Melissa thought. Yet, it wasn't as if in-'d planned to leave on the worst traveling day of the week. i ' ing mid-August posed another problem last-minute family nations. The northbound lanes were crammed, bumper to luimper, with cars, vans, and buses headed for the shore. She thought of the beach at Napatree, near Watch Hill, 34 I Y avid Lew Rhode Island, where she'H a 4. r> ,r 4.1 1 1 ie Q first met Ryan more than three lovely years ago. Had it already been that long? Glancing at her watcll) she took note of the date: Augusl seventeenth. In rnore than one way> the final full month of sum mer was extraordinary. J^ father would haye celebrated his forty-eighth birthday this month> had he {lyed bhe gripped the steering whed. She hadn't thought of her dad s birthday in years. And wh on the d rf her mad dash away from the evil that Wnted her llfe? Irymg to reiocus hpr ^ *.- j u u-r* j u ...... uer attention on driving, she shitted her weight slightly, eyeing t^ cruise control button. Should she set rt m this congestion? WOllldn-t it just be a matter of time beforc she d have to hrake, throving the setting off? Why bother? Leaning her head back slightIy) MeIissa forced herself to relax a bit. 1 ratnc in her 1 lji j 4. 1 t *i. 1. / n . . cr lane had slowed to a crawl. 10 tmnk J met Ryan in the month of r> 11 . l- j u j a j . . ,r , " "J Daddy s birth, she mused. And yet, in the selrsame month she . 1 ^- a, ^ , . c was leaving everything that was ever good and true. , " screei} of trees and wild ferns on either side of the road appeared to H u t u u r j . , , *-AOse in on her. inching her car forward, she noticed the ceiline-sk u 4 r j r ^ u- . . s ^^y beginning to fade from its sapphire hue as the sun prepared -c v 1 j- j- ^ A u-n 4. . . . ^ ^ tor its slow dive over distant hills to the west. At times, the r, 4. u ir j 4. j- .... . . . , Pavement itself seemed to disappear as additional vehicles vied fk , , . u r^r space. More than once, she > 4. * j 4. u 11 u ., . , ' e Was tempted to use her cell phone to call Kyan. CJh, to hear hi 4.l 4.- u *.u u -n j j .r . , ' Cc" nis volce the notion both thrilled and terrified her. bhe dared n^ u 4. 4. 4. 4.- r^ 11 u u not succumb to temptation. Cell phones were dangerously susceni-^ 1 5 y ouhLept^ig to tracing. r5y now Ryan would k j j r u 11 * ..... u fiave made a myriad of phone calls to their neighbors, to Ali a j r a , 1 t u , , u ' "ind to the nonst shop where she was employed, rie may havt* 1 j 4- j u +. 4.u .: . . J e already reported her missing to the police. Lalhng hoine was 4 r *u 4.- tu u j ttS> out of the question. 1 he hazard was too great. She ought to think abr^ * 4.4.1 u r 4.u U4. , _ auout settling m somewhere for the night. bomewnere out or the w=> 1 1 1111 u 4y where she could make her next call 35 Hj ii mfa phone. On the other hand, she didn't want to put rrtrtlf in d more precarious spot leaving the highway, getting 11* road and into a rural area where she could easily become Dm duck. She'd have to wait until after sundown. i iiifli/v always waited for nightfall, Melissa recalled. Yet she'd |V l rniuiciously realized this fact as a girl, in spite of the many tuf til|iM ihcy'd taken together. She remembered, very clearly, Hhiyjil when she and her father had set out to visit Grandpa HN'in.i Clark, her mother's parents. Though she had never H^n hti mother, who passed away when she was two, Melissa Hi in visit her only living grandparents. And Daddy never Hitl I'ass, through the long Eisenhower Tunnel, then past H rtinl ( Uenwood Springs, to Grand Junction. They sang Hpliu songs as they drove. Sometimes, they kept track of outHiii> license plates. And Daddy had his own songs, too. Silly H nmcs he made up at will. On occasion they talked of his Hi i memories of her mother, though for the most part, he Hi iiw.iy from things too sentimental. Or too painful. 111 was nearly six o'clock when she spotted the exit sign for m Rochelle,*'New York. She would allow herself a very brief I nt the city nestled on the north shore of Long Island Sound kmlhern Westchester County. Just long enough to gas up I purchase a few snacks and something to drink, at "The it'n City of the Sound" inspiration for Broadway's former lilt hit Ragtime and home to both Robert Merrill, opera star, I Norman Rockwell, America's popular artist. IK/Ielissa knew the place well. She and Ryan liked to poke Ijnd in the shops that lined historic Main Street, where fruits I vegetables could be purchased in the same vicinity as chiln'n toys and athletic apparel. 14lancing in her rearview mirror, she surveyed the car di- 36 j1 11 B E V E J L T & D A V I D L E ff I S jijj jl rectly behind her. A blue sports car. Hadn't she noticed it ear I lier? Back near Fairfield, maybe? i Changing lanes, she stepped on the accelerator, but the blur | car sped up, nearly on her bumper now. Instantly, her throal closed up. She was being followed, just as she feared! Keep your cool! ; Anticipating the exit, she rejected the urge to use her turn : q signal. Yet the blue Mustang veered into the far right lane jukI : ~ I'' 1 as she did. She strained to see the driver's face in her rearview r I mirror. If she could just manage that without causing an acci L I .' dent. ; 1 I I : She was about to focus on the man's face when she heard ? I i the driver in the next lane blare his horn. A good thing, too, for e I she nearly plowed into the car in front of her, halfway to the I end of the crowded exit ramp. E I "Watch where you're going!" the driver hollered, leaning out t I the window. |_ I |j "Sorry . . . sorry," she murmured. Her mouth was cotton as L I she waited, stuck between the Mustang behind her and the car < c I ahead. Seconds seemed to tick by in slow motion. She double- j ,! [_ I ! checked the automatic locks in her car. Twice. i ^ J I I Gradually, the backed-up ramp eased a bit. At last she ne- ! ], I I I gotiated a sharp right-hand turn, and as she did, the Mustang 119= I I roared around her, speeding off in a different direction. False i ! i| alarm. 1 * I |||! Heart still hammering, she located the nearest gas station I I Ji and turned in. She leaned back and closed her eyes, willing her- f I I self to calm down. i j Daddy had said he needed the sleeping tablets and that she I must always remember to leave them on his nightstand before Z I . bedtime. And she had obliged, never forgetting. J I Often she had wondered how the tablets made a person feel. I At times she had held the tiny round pills in her hands, peering !; j at them, holding them up to the light. Trying to see into them. 1: 37 ) | hpy ni.iIcA1 your legs and arms tingle before you felt nothing? im( prtilM (il your body went numb first? Your feet, legs, arms? Itnl rmifutl such small pills to work? Most of all, why did My Ht'id medicine to put him to sleep? She had never asked. Met liii I hi was a compassionate man, more than generous H Mm In it',:;, tie encouraged her to snuggle up on the sofa with hili- 11 icy spent part of each evening reading aloud from (HnIx-f each shoreline city or town. The closer she came to i llmnx, the more clogged the traffic. Was everyone in New iigliuul driving to the city for the weekend? Never had she seen ninny vehicles on a Friday evening. 'Thankfully, the day was beginning to cool down. She 'itched off the air conditioning and turned up the radio. A iniluiiictious announcer was crowing the high temperature for 1 Uf day "eighty-nine degrees." Hotter than usual, true, though "tiplcd with higher than normal humidity, the day was classi- ht d "a doozy." 38 In more ways than one, she thought. Waves of grief threatened her composure as she relived tin morning's startling encounter at a restaurant, no less fol lowed by the urgent phone call and her desperate escape. The DJ kept talking about the weather, and she tried t<> listen, hoping to crowd out the events of the day. "Temps arc bound to decrease as summer begins to wind down to fall," tinannouncer said. "Now, that's one thing you can count on." One thing to count on . . . Not much in life was reliable. Changing weather, hurricanes, high and low temperatures. In the course of things of life, overall what did it matter? What did anything matter? Suddenly, she thought of dear Nana Clark, living in the hot, semi-arid region of the country Colorado's western slope. How long since she'd visited her mother's family? Not since before her father died. She scarcely recalled the actual year, much less the event. Nana and Grandpa hadn't come to the funeral. Too frightened, perhaps. Who could blame them? They'd sent cards and letters, and there were occasional phone calls, too, during the years she'd lived with Mr. and Mrs. Browning. After college she'd disconnected from everyone, her Colorado relatives and friends included. Missing her grandparents and the Brownings, she wished she might have kept in touch somehow. Flicking off the radio, she exhaled loudly, frustrated and angry with the way life had turned on her. If she were a religious woman, she would ask God for help about now. The way she saw it, praying was for dutiful folk who hadn't completely messed up their lives. People like Ryan's friend, Denny Franklin. Oh no! The realization that Denny was planning to fly in tomorrow hit her. She shook her head, amazed that she'd spaced out his visit. Yet there was no choice in the matter. Surely Ryan would call off the visit with Denny, wouldn'l feel like entertaining his Bible-packing friend. He would be hurl, put in such an awkward position, having to tell Denny his wife had vanished. 39 1h lilence in the car trickled out through the cracks, and I Hwore of the sounds of tires on the highway, the color ike of I Ik- two cars directly behind hers. A gray sedan mk .1 I'it, the third car in the current lineup. in* wih- dirge of dusk settled in about her. Once the sun I-iwn, tilings would change for the worse. Darkness always " ml Iut behind the wheel not that she suffered from blindness. Things just became very different after dark. Melimia Imished her snack and soda, making an attempt to Im-iiHfd, to keep her mind on her driving. A tug-of-war i Wanting, needing to concentrate on the road and the I cars around her, she found that her unruly mind wan- i ir afield. The struggle was in the way of a dream, a vision . A fanciful scenario of "what ifs" and tenuous "if onlys." ttnlli, nothing she could have done would have altered the > mm* of this day. Or of her life, really. Indulging in imaginary games would easily take up a good i H hi of the trip. If she chose to go beyond Manhattan for the i.i that is. New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland . . . where would i"P? When she tired of the driving, as well as her over- i "iv of the past, present, and future she might put on one m({ CD after another, humming all the while, just as she 11ad while traveling by car with her father. I he closer she came to New York's magnificent skyline, I h*iI against the gray of smog and humidity and accompanied millions of twinkling lights, the more she was tempted to I m at one of the Times Square hotels. Overnight, perhaps. in- enough to make her next phone call and get some much- I. I rest. Sin- glanced at the corridor of trees lining the highway in the i lmf.< light. Was it her imagination? Were the leaves beginning in luin slightly? She fought the urge to stare at their beauty. I''or the first time, she was going to miss the autumn glories h| New England. Thinking ahead to the annual harvesttime feslivitirs, she caught her breath, recalling Ryan's suggestion that 40 they drive up to Vermont in mid-October. "We'll make a thrct day weekend of it ... over Columbus Day," he'd said just luni week, paging through the current Innkeepers' Register. And l<> gether they had decided on an elegant village inn at Ormnli Hill in Manchester, former residence of Robert Todd Lincoln friend and law partner. They wouldn't be going together ... or at all now. Anotlu-i disappointment for Ryan. She choked back tears, struggling to see the road. How coulil he forgive her, spoiling their romantic plans this way? Destroy ing their Camelot? Her idea to "get lost" in the teeming masses of Manhattan jH seemed perfect as she drove south toward the Whitestone Kx ^M pressway, keeping her eyes peeled for the turnoff to west 1-49S.^B Halfway through the Queens Midtown Tunnel, she spotted ih|^H gray sedan again. A Buick. Trailing her by a distance of thrc^^B vehicles, the car was nearly out of the perimeter of her rearvie^^B mirror. She was conscious of the lane changes the driver contin^H ued to make nearly every time she negotiated a turn. fl Don't panic . . . jl Resolving to remain composed, she purposely shifted lanei^B once the tunnel dumped out to East 36th Street, though she wa^J cautious, mindful of the heavy traffic. The gray car slowed, b\|H seconds later, blinked over and merged into the right lane, offll her tail. j Several blocks later, traffic came to a full stop. Unable to I accelerate, she was paralyzed in her lane; all options wen* I blocked. The gray Buick, only two cars away, was too close for I comfort. I At Madison Avenue, the Pierpont Morgan Library an Ital-1 ian Renaissance-style palazzo seemed even more imposing! than she remembered, with its pair of identical stone lionesseij 40 ]l 41t i \\w ttmnU mil*-4 lilt? monnlioim huildint' behind. Hut, in doinu, so she i *il *iil it i/liuuT m the vicinity of the silvery car through in mlrrtti t* gitajHil nlu- recognized the square face, the man's .qilniitti t*v<" I hi- familiar white tuft of hair on the left iin nlhetwi:. thick head of dark brown hair his peculiar ilk cunlnuu-cl her worst fear. The same man she had isipliiiitti t*v I I hi* nthetwi:.'- tl Ilsltk conliiii i-( ^HHfi tuihiy h.ul Followed her all the way from Mystic. ^^^K U|jht to think clearly as she drove. The pulse in her ^^H| the heat surge to her head made planning difficult. ^^^h nh * knew her way through Midtown well, making a ^^H under this kind of pressure where and how to make j^^ I'tl out of sight, even make a run for it was beyond ' . .it the moment. Penn Station was within five miles, B' i i here she'd have to abandon her car and get away on M u riiteh a train out of town. She didn't trust herself on 1 ct, not this far from the train station. The possibility of I iluwn a cab occurred to her as the cars began to move I hit ol the question on a Friday night. No, she'd sit tight, I u to tin- vehicle she so desperately needed to take her to I II llie minute you get to a safe place, the whispered phone p>uii|{ riini', in her ear. The lUtid*. sedan signaled to change lanes, passing the car liltul her. It crept up, now side by side with hers. She dared I tjtttnce to her left, dared not look. Not now. Mcllid, watch yourself, her father's voice echoed from the IVi- I In- light turned abruptly red at the next intersection. Tires jk-hi-d, horns blared. What would she do if he forced her I" opened the glove box, eying the small black container m.M i , ;i disabling liquid. If necessary, she wouldn't hesitate pr it. Hut she did not want to allow the man to get that close. 42 Caught in a gridlock of taxis, cars, and limos, she strains I to see if the street was marked one-way. The minivan in fronl of her blocked her view. She thought of turning the wrong way, or even running a red light at some point. Maybe she'd try In get stopped by the police. But no matter what happened to hei, no matter how many police she encountered, the gray sednn would keep showing up. The driver would merely circle tin block and pick up her trail eventually. To her right, the gaping mouth of an underground parkin i; garage enticed her, wooed her into its depths. Momentarily, she considered the possible escape route. But no, it was too con strained and concealed. She must stay out of dark places, remain in the open, where people were near. Where the populace could be witnesses ... 43t c/7 I )|'!N LINGER looked out the window as she finished i \\w\\ She enjoyed the last few crumbs of apple pie, then ilte remaining sips of her coffee. A bit more lonely than i i fit in ever so long a time, she stared out across the .i-.\v nt the neighbor's barn, a lantern light a-shining for all i HI h from an open door at its east end. ! lei1 brother and his wife and their baby had come for a i' ilay outing from Virginia, leaving just after breakfast this inmg. She'd spent the morning redding up after them thing sheets, dusting, and whatnot. After such a lovely visit ii her dear ones, the house seemed almost too quiet. "What'11 you have me do now, Lord?" she whispered in 1.1n't*, trusting her heavenly Father's ability to provide for i-y need. But, being the sort of woman she was, she liked ii. i a helping hand. 'Course, the Creator of the universe i.'i need her assistance any child of God knew that. Still, w.inted to be available, put herself on the altar of sacrifice, iitil was what the Lord might indeed have in mind. ( Hearing off the kitchen table, she set about carefully wash- itiul drying each dish. As she wiped each of the counter tops I lie table clean, she began to sing. "O Master, let me walk 11 Ihee, in lowly paths of service free. ..." 44 Eager for a bit of cheer to fill the empty house, she put am of her favorite praise and worship CDs into the stereo and n;ii down with her Bible, devotional book in hand. She liked to rcu I in the early morning, upon first awakening, feeding her he;m and mind on God's Word. But today, as gloomy as she felt, win decided she'd have her quiet time twice. Nothing at all wroin< with that. Why, her own sister, who was church-Amish an* I lived down the road apiece, often did the same thing. " 'Tisn'i a thing to boast about," Elizabeth would say, just a-smiling ami as merry as you please. "Reading what God has to say, no matin what time of day or how often, is a blessed thing, Lela." And of course she agreed. Far be it for her to argue such .1 fact. She and Elizabeth were as close as any two sisters coul l be, though they didn't entirely see eye to eye on church mem bership, she being Mennonite and Elizabeth embracing tin Amish tradition of her husband. Yet both were "homegrown" Pennsylvania Dutch girls, lived so close they could run barefoot back and forth between each other's houses, helped each othu do spring and fall cleaning, and most everything else a body needed. The biggest difference between them was that Elizabeth married young, at nineteen, and had herself a fine, growing fam> ily already at twenty-seven. Lela was nearly thirty-one, come next week. Never married. 'Course, if the Lord brought someone along who loved her just for who she was, well . . . then, she wouldn't have to think twice 'bout that. She'd heard the whispers "maiden lady" already ,11 church and family gatherings but wouldn't let on that it both ered her. Though, of course, she was becoming just that in tineyes of her community. Still, she held on to a glimmer of hop. that someday, in God's perfect timing and will, a godly m;in might come into her life. Turning her attention to the devotional book, she found cheer and comfort in the verses found in chapter four of Fir l Peter. "And above all things have fervent charity among youi selves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins." Reading 45 ^^^^B umiHually moved by the words: "Use hospitality one ^^^^B willi opening either her home or heart to family and Hj, i,\? f\ hIrangers. Habits of generosity were learned early ^H tin peciple. She, along with her six brothers and sisters, ^Hfii ttiughl that the importance of giving comes not from ^H niiieh < i little, but whether one's spirit is at home in ^Hiniiy, She recalled Papa loaning his farm equipment to ^H lio asked, Mama taking plates of hot food out to the ^Hk lio Htopped by. Best she could remember, they always ^Hil wood in exchange for the meal. Yet Mama liked to go ^H I'.iking her best buttermilk biscuits, hot dumplings, and H|p ..ilisfy their hefty appetites. 'Course, she and Papa alHt i ! Scripture tracts on hand to pass out, too, along with Hr1' ^Hi.i older brothers exhibited generosity in many ways. OfHp helped, whether called upon or not, to raise a barn "l - (heir Amish neighbors. Her sisters were both willing ]' y nit free of change, least till their own babies came along. I tut really bigfrearted thing had she done lately? Closing i Mil tie, she felt led to pray about possibly opening her home, IV i *' renting out her spare room for a little bit of nothing, so mm; (the was to be a blessing to someone in need. H&,md, I trust you to handpick the very soul you would send H|y," she prayed in the stillness of the house. Tired and scared, Melissa searched for a way to make the (k, With her heart racing, she had difficulty considering what :ln next. The gray car was parallel to hers. 46 What do I do now? J Anything to stop this madness. J The light turned green at last, but she must continue to wlw while the cars in front of her inched ahead. 1 Move! She wanted to scream at them. Just please move! '% At last the intersection gave way, and the cross street wii in full view. All clear. She gunned the accelerator, turning m screeching hard right. As she did so, perspiration broke on I, dampening her hair on the back of her neck. She heard honking and assumed the Buick was attempting a right-hand turn in (In wrong lane, but she kept her attention on the cars ahead of hn No time to look. She must keep moving. Quickly. At the very next street she made another fast right, on in another one-way street, now heading east. She was going in en cles, but she didn't care. She would drive recklessly if necessai > She would escape the man. In order to survive, she had to. Hi:, tory was not going to repeat itself. Not this day. Melissa looked back over her shoulder, saw a glimpse nl gray, and realized the stalker had somehow made the turn. An gry and frightened, she wondered why he hadn't leaped out < >l the car, tried to drag her away when he had the chance. Wlui was stopping him? Keep moving, something in her head prompted her. But where to go? She didn't care to be followed all night. Am I there was the matter of fuel. When would either of them nm low on gas and need to make a stop? What bizarre maneuverings, either in heaven or on earl 11, had transpired to put the two of them together in the saint restaurant earlier today? What had brought him to the sm;ill town of Mystic? Was it just a coincidence? Or had it taken him literally three years to catch up with her again? She could kick herself, thinking back on her suggestion In go to S&P Oyster Company, a restaurant overlooking the Mysi n River and drawbridge downtown. Ali had other ideas. She wanted to grab a sandwich and soil.i 47 Hi hi pop in nnd out of Bee Bee's Dairy. "That way we H)|l pttit llu' boats along the river walk while we eat," AH HU Hut, nti, Melissa had insisted they go "somewhere and h view nC I he water." tal hrimll to concentrate, Melissa saw that Lexington ^^^1 Coming up ahead. Suddenly a middle lane opened. ^^^f win >l forward, securing the position. Then she spied ^Hi'i'i directing traffic at the intersection. His presence ^^^K |o alleviate her fears. The lights were out, and only ^hi'H' being allowed through at a time. ^Hpdt, nIio thought, her hopes for making a break dashed. Hp I nhc pulled her hair back away from her face. The H id tall and lean in the middle of the busy junction, itnvy blue uniform, matching hat, and pristine white H iq shoes appeared to have been spit-shined. He was fl ! in his approach to directing traffic, motioning only m i nrH through the intersection at a time; turning, mov- ' 11; a perfect right angle, as though performing a ballet. > . precise attire and movements fleetingly reminded her Bjl.iiluT and some of his colleagues from the past. Hi I nig time, she glanced at the gas gauge. She had enough Hh> i a long, long way from here. If she could just move. Hi .1 had possessed her to come this way, through ManH"n ,i Friday night? What had she been thinking? Hi more minutes of waiting, and at last it was her turn. r iclieved when the gray sedan was held back, not per- i > uio through. "' your chance. Go! I .iiit? her momentum, she floored it and turned right, past mi . skyscrapers, heading south now. Glancing in her rearjinor, she saw a large service truck blocking the previous Bel ion. m! She laughed out loud. From here, it was a straight shot W ,i2nd Street and the Empire State Building. This wide i would lead her to the Lincoln Tunnel eventually. Cer- 48 tainly, it was the long way around, but, hey, this was freedom'] way! High with exhilaration, Melissa had a strong feeling she w| home free. Well, not home exactly. Never home . . . may! never again. J 49e^i^e^n- MiKTIi KING gathered her little ones around her. "We ' >i thinking 'bout a present for Aunt Lela," she told them "rning prayers. "Her birthday is next week, and you know niirli she loves gettin' homemade gifts from each one of II idwheaded youngsters nodded their heads. Mary Jane, II, I'linned up at her. "I'll be makin' her a perty doily li.ipc chest." i io dampen her daughter's spirits, Elizabeth wondered lit- might focus on the doily and not Mary Jane's comment. I, il I were your I'd make it white." Ui daughter seemed pleased with the suggestion. "Gut Mama. White goes with anything." lit* other children talked about making drawings and maybe ! ii ihday cookies. Then, after a bit, they kissed and hugged I mrents and headed off to bed. II but Mary Jane. Being the oldest, sometimes she spent a h1t;i minutes with Mama before bedtime. "I'm sorry if I ntnethin' out of turn," she whispered. \leaning what?" Elizabeth asked as they sat near the wood t in the kitchen. 'Well, you know . . . 'bout the hope chest." Mary Jane, eyes 50 blue as the sea, stopped and took a childish deep brenll> " 'Sposin' Aunt Lela won't be marryin' anytime soon." Elizabeth hugged her girl. "We don't know that for sun now do we?" Shaking her head slowly, Mary Jane's eyes were wide as cvi i "Do ya think God has a husband out there somewheres for hoi Elizabeth didn't rightly know. 'Twasn't something she ;iml> men Lela could be thinking of now, considering her age. i "A husband for Aunt Lela?" Elizabeth repeated. A "Jah, Mama, that's what I'm askin'." Eager for a respor Mary Jane had the beginnings of a frown. I "I guess that's a task for the Good Lord," was all she sdfl But knowing her eldest as she did, the girl would be askiB again. And again. Mary Jane was becoming much more aware of things ha lately. "You've got yourself a youngster who's mighty perceiviB of folk," Elizabeth's mother had said a few days ago. I That, she knew, was mighty true. Being the oldest of four-1 so far Mary Jane wasn't such a handful, really. She was juj interested in people. Same as Elizabeth herself. j "Time for bed," she said, shooing her darling toward ihj stairs. Morning came awful quick around here, especially wiB the second cutting of alfalfa upon them. Thaddeus would waB them all up milking cows, helping in general, come five or I tomorrow. J Before she turned out the gas lamp in the kitchen, sli>- slipped to the dark living room and peered down the road towai I Lela's little brick house. She wasn't surprised to see the lii'Jii still on downstairs, as her sister often retired hours later tli.m Elizabeth and her family. No need for her to get up with lli< chickens, after all. Wasn't like she was a farmer's wife. SO51 I llit lliing that did surprise her was seeing the lights pi in ihs* Hccotid-floor bedroom, Lela's spare room. Whatl|/ifj doing in there? Elizabeth wondered. Surely Lela had H tip sifter their brother and family left this morning. She IVtM'y tiilv house, her sister did, so it wondered Elizabeth j^ttprtli'd to be done. Especially at this hour. ^Hn' up 1.0 bed?" Thaddeus called to her softly. ^Blil (lute, dear." She pressed closer to the window and ^Blg down the narrow road, pale in the light of a quarter ^H|Ht Lord, please watch over my sister, Lela. And, if ^Mfvill, bless her with a nice husband," she whispered ^Hlmlowpane. ^^Hft shard of the moon was visible when Melissa spotted H^ftkrd just after the exit ramp to Keamy, in New Jersey. i >ign, well lit, touted Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, I. .itt of Amish Country where time stands still. I- .! lly what I need," she whispered to herself. "A place I ... time." If'd heard bits and pieces about the area, mostly about the (hitit such as Hutch Wonderland and the Amish Village. Hi I her husband had spent an entire weekend a few years Rnpping the outlet malls, a big draw for tourists. They'd IPrii home full of talk about horse-drawn buggies and folks I- .iround in Plain clothing that "would make your head \li had said. i 11 ' how?" Ryan had said, laughing, not sure if she were ' i ii not. tin- men grow beards no mustaches and they wear dark urn with tan suspenders and white shirts . . . and straw Ali explained. I low do the women dress?" Melissa asked. 52 YERLY & DiYID LEW "Long, dark, caped dresses and aprons, with little white n> i ting caps called prayer coverings." Melissa hadn't known what to make of it then, but nIu 1 listened intently. "I've heard of prayer caps," she'd said soli I "Hutterite women wear them, too." Ali didn't seem to know or care much about other I'Lin. sects, but she was eager to chat about her encounter with ll> horse-and-buggy people. "You should see how cute the chikli. are!" her friend had said, describing the way the girls wore Hi. n hair parted down the middle, "without bangs at all," and brim Iwrapped around their little heads. Melissa hadn't been so interested in hearing about "ll* peculiar-looking people" Ali had talked about, and certainly ih.i all the gawking her friends must've done while in Lancaster. Mm such a place did appeal to her. She longed for quietude, at hv < for the night. First, she must acquire a motel, then find a ted phone. For the first time since she'd left Connecticut, she dared i<< relax a little. A small sense of tranquility lulled her. But on I for a time. Southeast of Trenton, near Holland on Route 276, hIi. glanced in her rearview mirror. There it was again, the umL niable outline of a Buick sedan, coming up close. Her heart sank. How did he find me? Melissa was aghai.i overcome with both dread and disappointment. Renewed parm rushed through her veins, charging her body with needed adroit aline. She'd memorized the highway options earlier, before the sm> sank low in the sky, before it was too difficult to reach for ih. map and study it as she drove. There were two distinct roud available. She could remain on this interstate highway and linl up with Route 202 eventually, or follow this superhighway in another multilane artery, onto Route 30, passing through Exlon and Gap, wending her way to her final destination. 53 over Hit head, she felt helpless. She was caught in I the grcnlest horror she'd ever known. But she would ii without a fight. girl l<> ihe bitter end. . . . ilHtnl !o let. herself unravel. "Please, God, help me," i in I, wondering now, as she drove pell-mell, if God n "If you're really out there somewhere, help me." i mil of the Buick bumping her car made her scream. mped on the accelerator, flooring it, exceeding the I 'I'his was life or death. Her car roared out ahead, ly leaving him in the dust. But she knew the Buick ixiwiT than her car. tough, seconds later, he was within yards again. Only vcre speeding nearly out of control. crazy, she thought. We're both going to lose it. She lit i'ill phone. She'd been warned not to use it, but she (Iklice. She had to get help. 'Htm! The Buick bumped her again, just as she reached phone. The jolt stunned her, lurching her dangerously iiyht. She grabbed the wheel with both hands, turned I he left, narrowly missing the ditch, but she'd over- I .uid the car began to spin. 11id slammed on the brakes, creating a squealing sound, . in seconds fne Buick would ram her. But she had no 11 was either stop or flip over, i 1 .ir careened violently, completing nearly a full circle. 1 In- corner of her eye, she saw the Buick swerve into the .1 void a collision. The man fought to control his vehicle, iu.l her. He gunned the engine, and the Buick leaped In- ditch in front of her. ii- ound of an explosion jolted her to full alert. The gray 11 -iked and leaned stiffly, pitching back into the shallow At a dead stop now, dazed and confused, she stared at (k-Hs car. What . . . what now? And then she knew. He'd ,n a tire! 54 Struggling through her tears, she slammed her foot on I In accelerator and passed the Buick just as the man opened In door. Instead of an angry face, he leered at her, grinning widi I as if taunting her. It didn't matter. She was safe . . . for now. Miles later, still shaking, Melissa made the turnoff to 11 t'! > way 202. Even if the man changed his tire speedily, he wouii never find her on this road, never guess where she was head- ' To Amish Country the land that time forgot. Heading into Lancaster on Route 30, she spotted some u taurants Miller's Smorgasbord and several others still o]v serving hungry tourists. Motels were plentiful on either side the highway. Limp and exhausted, Melissa was briefly tempi, by a vacancy sign in front of the Steamboat Inn. Not r&\\<- enough, she thought. The pressure was beginning to lift. The clench of her j > had begun to lessen; her shoulders ached but were not nearly tense as before. She was going to survive. At least, for today^ At the junction of Routes 30 and 222, she followed the roll leading north, toward Eden. Sounds like a pleasant place, ^J thought, wondering where all the Plain folk lived. Were ttfl scattered around the county . . . where? H Stopping at a fast-food place, she took a chance and wfl inside to stretch her tingling legs and to purchase a sandwH and a cup of coffee, inquiring of the clerk about lodging, "ll you know of any inns or B&Bs off the beaten track?" I "Plenty of places to stay around here," the young wonflH said, smiling. "What exactly are you looking for?" I "Something quiet, away from the noise." H The clerk nodded. "Well, since you're already headed ill way, why don't you drive along Hunsecker Road, just up tl way apiece. You'll see the sign where to turn. I think you'll llH a good many places to stay. Even some private homes wfl rooms for rent." I 55 vk or the day?" i you'd like, I suppose. It's coming up on the end " i, ho you shouldn't have a bit of trouble finding >l > > I I he woman and hurried back to the car, food in ii hoards rumbled as she slowed the car and drove unenloga River via a covered bridge marked "Hun' Bridge" on her map. Occasional small openings in I the bridge brought in the slightest bit of light. ut in the open, she could see stars winking down at I1 tin' willows and other large trees along the road. She din of Ryan's plans for a romantic getaway in Veri minis Day weekend was the ideal time to travel deep i'Upland autumn. i recalled the smell of woodsmoke permeating the iiir, the crackle of leaves underfoot. They liked to ii into unpopulated and wooded areas, enjoying a dayi into the nearby Green Mountains. One of their fa- 11H >!^h was simply walking in the woods, amidst cinnamon I I lie colorful undergrowth. There they held hands and hsi'ly, Always t iey discovered secluded gardens of milkmil black-eyed* Susans, gurgling streams, low stacked ttlU, and spicebush swallowtail butterflies. Nature was hi such settings, and now, more than ever, she would I Vermont experience terribly. But her leaving had al.M' than their plans for a romantic weekend. Now ev- '.is different. imii'Jh have missed the homemade sign, propped up be- ili mailbox and the little red flag, if her headlights had i ah'.iM directly on the words Room For Rent, in big, bold [fin fulling cautiously into the driveway, Melissa sat there with 55 56 the car idling, giving her full attention to a tidy front-gable hi n It, cottage. The land stretched out on either side, dwarf i in; ih| house somewhat. When she shut off the ignition, she could \w f. a host of crickets chirping through the car window. What | n< p| She longed to sit still, staring up at the expanse of sky mnl ilif sliver of a moon. m The front porch light beckoned to her, and she saw 11 hi I y lovely grapevine wreath with blazing scarlet sage intersparMB with ivy and other greenery made for a quaint greeting. SevljM lamps were still lit throughout the whole house. fl Is it too late to knock? she wondered. fl Melissa checked the time on the dashboard and saw tlmtfl was nearly nine o'clock. She hesitated, thinking how she wot A feel about company at such a time if she were still at hoi ml But the sign on the mailbox seemed to indicate a vacancy, .m>|| now that she looked, there was a sign in the front window, Mmwell. Getting out of the car, she hurried up the porch steps, m alizing she needn't rush anymore. She was fairly safe here |fl the back byways of Lancaster County. She lifted her hand fl ring the bell when the door opened and a woman, not magi years older than Melissa, greeted her with a warm smile. "I l |fl there," the Plain woman said. "Are you looking for a room?JB "As a matter of fact, I am," Melissa replied, noticing ^M small netting-type cap, the hair bun beneath, the high neckli|H tucked bodice, and long, flowing dress with tiny lavender Hc^H ers. The very garb Ali had been so eager to discuss. "I "HijH be staying only one night, if that's all right." ^H "Oh yes . . . 'Course you can stay as long or as short as y^M please." The screen door was opened to her and she was WljH corned inside. "Please, just make yourself at home." fl "Thank you." Melissa felt strange, not knowing the womttJH name, but she didn't ask. Instead, she followed the slender brfl nette up the stairs, where she was shown the spare room ,mfP agreed to take it. She was surprised at the price. Thirty dollum 57A T D A R Y ntu'huliii^ breakfast. The lovely room would be offered Wit II he decided to stay longer. Unit* in Lela Denlinger," the cheerful woman said. wMuhu," She gave only her first name, purposely. "I |i " linvc .i telephone?" she asked, hoping she hadn't li>>i,f an Amish household where phones were taboo. It>>i<'ii, pointing to the phone in the kitchen. "Oh my, I. >( it* welcome to use it anytime. My home is your jl i nN long as you choose to stay." 11'''-. wasn't the sort of reception she'd expected. Re- I 11 ii hurried to the car for her single piece of luggage. I1 light," she explained when Lela eyed the overnight in"- to help yourself to anything you find in the rer I el a offered. ||H-ikH than Melissa ever expected. The more she chatl.dii, the more she genuinely liked the cottagelike reyrll ;ih its owner. She'd stumbled onto a haven, of sorts. By .il last. Win In I until 4he house was quiet, grateful that Lela had Bp on in both the living room and the kitchen. At last Uvess to a "safe" telephone. Digging into her pants *U' found the important number and dialed. i In her acute frustration she reached only an answering "Please leave a message at the tone or dial my pager imber 555-0097," the recorded voice directed. '/, / f>uess it's better than nothing, Melissa thought. In the 11 kitchen, she spoke clearly into the phone, reading off > i laded number printed on Lela Denlinger's telephone. '. up, she sighed, feeling bone tired, weary . . . but at ii.ingely enough. 59*. WAKENED SATURDAY to the distant cry of sea ling light slipped into the room between the horizonsignaling the end of an arduous night. His sleep had i en I rest elusive. The clock radio beamed the time: hope of further slumber evaporated as he glanced at id*- of the bed. How many times had he awakened watching for her, only to experience fresh disap>'iich time his brain registered her absence? K into his robe, he tightened the belt and went down"Uilce coffee. Morning ritual. Daisy followed him into ii-n, then disappeared through the doggie door while " iiid coffee. The hum of the percolator disturbed the mimicking the sounds of a normal day. Yet today was> /'lit normal. i" lully awakened, his mind began to race again, as he i "I Melissa out there somewhere, running away, running lohut? i \ lumbered back through her door and set her expectant H Kyan. Padding to her food dish, she sniffed a little, hi ii.', the unappetizing crunchy breakfast. She slinked 1 v into the living room and located the spot where a future nil was sure to find her. 60 1 Ryan poured his coffee, sipped, grimaced, and poured ilenti<-re contents down the drain. He headed upstairs to show- > relivwing last night's flurry of activity and phone calls, havn, finalUly phoned the police. Around nine o'clock, two police! n. >< had sauntered to the door as if they had all the time in the woi ! I OncSe inside the house, they poked around and asked the shm darc^i formulaic questions. When they saw Melissa's "good Im lettesr," their shared glance said it all. I For the next hour the tenor of the discussion changed matiically. Instead of initiating a rapid search for his wife, 11 > beg^n to treat Ryan as a suspect. ^Struggling with frustration and worry, Ryan patiently m dur^d their insinuating questions. Finally, one of the policeim n stated outright, "There's no sign of foul play, Mr. James. Peopl. are ffree to come and go as they wish. Unless of course . . . v11 haven't told us everything." IIRyan was glad to see them leave. They glibly promised t<> "ke^p an eye out," then strolled out the front door, presumably to g*et on with real police business. He was on his own. JLater Denny called back as he had promised and insisted "h flyir*g in anyway, to be the proverbial good friend in this "tiin> of trouble." Ryan had felt somewhat relieved, but in the end ii didr^'t matter whether Denny came to visit or not. Only Me lissa-'s safe return could bring him comfort now. JBefore getting into the shower, Ryan turned on the waU > adju-sting the hot and cold, then grabbed the cordless phnn< receiver and placed it above the shower frame. Just in case. Several times during the night, Melissa had awakened, breaking out in cold perspiration. Each realization of her situ.i tion brought a fresh assault of fear. Now, muddled and con 61 I together yesterday's events. The unexpected restaurant in downtown Mystic, her ultimate ^^H pitied together yesterday s events, lhe unexpected ^^H ill ill'" restaurant in downtown Mystic, her ultimate ^^H'um^lcd to sit up in bed, but only briefly. Her head ^^Hk'illi lhe least exertion. What must Ryan think of me? Wnnfffd, sinking back against the pillows again. He must la wilh worry. On more than one occasion she had been ui call him but had resisted. I i; then that she thought of corresponding with Ryan by I ! lull should be safe, shouldn't it? The notion gave her il'-'UKh only a flicker. She remembered reading news ac' I on-line virus creators and senders there must be tii uue such offenders. If the authorities could locate hackii 11 nIh', too, could be found. Her spirits sank. I I he distance, the sound of horses' hooves tapping the mil piqued her curiosity. And yet another . . . what was kuiul? She strained, listening. Such a familiar yet foreign m the unmistakable rattle of carriage wheels. mhttl on earth? It' iprang out of bed, taking no time to bother with slippers. m<"\ in the dormer window, she peered down at the road I . ml was amazed to see a horse and buggy hurrying along. I1 vitre they headed at this hour? IjilittHa glimpsed the driver a young woman in a dark I iti it I apron, wearing a little white cap on her head with a II lii-r side, dressed similarly. She guessed they were Amish, It > e-loving sect Ali and her husband had so enthusiasti|ilf.'-ussed after visiting here. I' ,i real-life Jane Austen movie, she thought, momentarily ! I at the sight. She stood in awe, watching the carriage and I until they disappeared from view. fuming from the window, she inspected the room by I'm lii^ht. The bed surely an antique was framed by a buss headboard and footboard. Nearby, the bold scale and i ml in a of the cherry bureau reminded her of a dresser owned 11 62 E V E B L Y & DAY L E W by Nana Clark. She recalled how thrilled Nana had been discover such a "find," for her grandmother adored antiqur In. niture. Sighing, she went and sat in the floral chair in a cozy nn. complete with built-in bookshelves and a gleaming brass Hi lamp. The room was even more spacious than her own at hoi>. Tucked way at one end of the room was a second sleeping it. where a single bed nestled behind hand-painted flowery curtttn of gentle yellow and lavender. A small wicker table, painted mi yellow, anchored the sitting area. Leaning back, she felt her muscles relax against the ckm In spite of her anxiety, she knew she'd made a good choiiv I coming here. After a time she reached for one of the many boi .1 behind her and, thumbing through, discovered the author to I a Mennonite minister. So was Lela also a member of the cm. servative group? Curious to know more about Plain tradition she read several chapters before returning the book to its shd* Then, tiptoeing back to the bed, she sat down, staring al: H>- rag rug beneath her feet. How had she stumbled upon such whimsical cottage? And what of Lela Denlinger? The worn . had been unusually friendly, welcoming Melissa as though anticipated guest, even family. Was this typical for Plain foil. The sound of further clip-clops enticed her back to the win dow. Below her, several buggies, spaced as if by an invimhl. hand, made their way down the road in front of the house. An undeniable calm swept over her as she watched, and for a m< > ment, she felt safe. Safe, for the first time since yesterday man i ing when Ryan had kissed her good-bye. Safe . . . All too quickly, she recalled the startling circumstances l . which she had come to this idyllic setting. She washed an. I dressed for the day, wondering when the phone would ring Im her. 63C^^a^^*' i/ (yi^Vi- . HOARDED THE 747 bound for Providence, Rhode 11 le second leg of a flight originating in Denver having \ planes in Atlanta. He was greeted by a smiley brunette iltencknt who offered an array of magazines. Denny pat- pocket Bible in his shirt. "Came prepared," he said, i nmile. hi see that," she replied glibly and continued greeting tiling line of passengers. hiV struggled down the narrow aisle, maneuvering his i-ii i m to a row "midway through the plane. When he lo- 111m neat, he frowned and checked his boarding pass. He nriv certain his travel agent had booked an aisle seat. A tin, Denny always requested aisle seating, iimner, he thought, sighing. Maybe God has a reason. . . . a!king with the Lord had taught him one thing. Those utk-avored to live in Christ could expect the unexpected, i ulcnts for a Christian. Even the smallest irritations turned reveal God's marvelous intentions. rimy squeezed into the middle chair between the aisle and iw seats. Watching the remaining passengers find their he replayed last night's conversation with Ryan. Denny 64 had called back about ten o'clock and learned that Melissa w.ir; still missing. "I'm coming anyway," Denny had declared. "You need help with this, man." To his surprise, Ryan had agreed, but Denny suspected his buddy was overcome with worry, too drained to protest. So be it. He assured Ryan he'd rent a car and spare him the two-hour round trip. But Ryan had insisted on making the trip personally to meet Denny at the airport. Closing his eyes momentarily, he thought of Evelyn, missing her. He hoped she'd wait up for his call later that evening. He was roused from his reflection when a morose-looking, pimple-faced teenager, clad in torn jeans and a soiled T-shirt, moped his way to Denny's row. Mumbling, the kid pointed to the window seat next to Denny. Denny smiled, struggled out of his seat and into the aisle, allowing the boy to pass. Hot diggity! Denny thought. Reclaiming the middle seat next to the boy, he settled in once again, ready to strike up a conversation with the surly one. About that time, an elderly woman tapped him on the shoulder. In her hand she held the ticket to the aisle seat. "Care to switch?" she said, eyeing his giant frame with amusement. "Thanks, but I'm fine," Denny said, returning a smile. "I'm smaller than I appear in person." The kid next to him snorted. "But you need room for your legs, young man," the woman insisted. "They fit me fine," Denny told her. "They're collapsible." "Okey-dokey," she said in a singsongy voice and plopped down in the aisle seat. "You're a funny one." "Thank you, ma'am." One minor disaster averted. Now on with the adventure. He bided his time, waiting for the right moment. As the plane taxied down the runway and took to the air, the moment arrived. The kid was gripping the armrest, his face a gray-green. Unmistakably, the boy was terrified. Fear of flying. 64 11 65 I 'rimy leaned over and whispered, "Don't be afraid, man. I won't let anything happen to us." 11u* hoy's eyes jerked open. "What?" We're cool," Denny said casually. "My number's not up mil .since you happen to be on my plane, your number isn't i- , H, either." I low ... do you know?" the boy muttered. "(lull it a hunch," Denny quipped. "Besides, there's a reason w'lv Hitting next to me." "Who are you?" I Ic grinned at the kid. "I'm your new best friend." I1'rowning, the teen met Denny's gaze, then a slight grin ""i^ed. They bantered back and forth, and in short order i ' i my worked his disarming wit on the kid. The fear began to 11; ipate, the shoulders relaxed, and the boy slowly opened up. The breakthrough came when Denny revealed that he'd i iiumaged with John Elway at training camp. The walls came luinhling down. They talked football for a solid hour before ! '< nny directed the discussion to more serious things. I le learned that the boy's name was Michael and that he'd I. ,11 in and out of foster homes his entire life. Michael was ' < i mi ning from a visit with his estranged mother in Atlanta who, >lii-1 two days, could hardly wait to be rid of him. She'd put I on an early flight back to his most recent foster family. I )enny listened as the kid talked. Prayerfully, he sized up lilt* situation, not surprised at all by Michael's armor of rage. Hut the sword of salvation was stronger. Denny would cut llirough the rejection and pain with God's awesome love. When the flight attendants came around with lunch, Mii hael was ready for some good news for a change. God had it I ready prepared the way. By the time the plane approached the runway, Denny had mi Iced made a new friend. Young Michael listened with rapt >i Mention as Denny opened his pocket Bible and presented the < iospel. 66 L E W "Oh . . . man. This is so ... well, out there," Michael replied. "I need time to think it through." "That's cool. Maybe we could hit a youth service somewhex while I'm in Connecticut," Denny replied. "Church?" Michael frowned. "Sure, wouldn't hurt to try it. At least once." Michael considered this, then replied, "I didn't think tin: was gonna lead to church." Denny understood. "I've been there, Michael. Church is jn:.i a place where people like you and I hang out. Like a gang only for believers." Michael snickered, but he seemed to respond to the uncon ventional explanation. Their conversation ceased as the plane's wheels slammed, then bounced against the runway. The passenger to Denny': left the lady in the aisle seat leaned over. "You're quite tin 'Billy Graham,' young man," she said without looking up from her needlepoint. "Can't say I've ever heard anything quite like it." "I just show up, and God does the rest." "Okey-dokey," she replied, putting her needle aside. Sinreached for the gate information in the seat pocket in front ol her, obviously nervous. Maybe she was worried that Denny might start in with her about God and church. He chuckled. Double duty. The woman had overheard tlir entire conversation. And God's Word does not return void, fir thought joyfully. Before deplaning, Denny and Michael traded phone num bers. The rest was in God's hands. Reluctant to bid farewell Id Michael, Denny grabbed his own luggage and stuffed the pockci Bible in the kid's hands. "Take good care of it, okay?" "Sure." The boy's eyes shone with gratitude, his earlier sur liness gone. Next challenge: Ryan and Melissa. 67 | .ii nI(H)iI near the catwalk, waiting. Denny emerged soon I i mu\ Ryan was struck again by his friend's large and I .1 ii bin Id, wrapped in gray slacks and a red-and-blue polo Mil! t i .| iptfi I (ill" by that perpetual exuberance. The image of the Htllv ' tr'eii (liant came to mind. Sans the green, of course. L- J \wv yiceled each other as only good friends do, though HftlHlin^ they were meeting under normal circumstances. "So Hin'vt hI ill got all your hair," Denny commented with false ^i releasing Ryan after a bear hug. "Uh! Wait a minute!" H^ iided to examine Ryan's head. "I see some signs of hope ^H merging bald spot." ^B i chuckled. "In your dreams." ^Bj >ii know, it's an insult to flaunt that hair when you're ^Hid Ibllidy challenged people like me." ^H| low do you think / feel?" Ryan shot back good-naturedly. ^Hvlini^ next to you, I look emaciated." ^^tjt-iilousy will get you nowhere, my friend," Denny replied, HVmhh; Ms grip. Hl y shared a good laugh and headed directly to the parking ^Hinn i- Denny preferred to carry on his luggage. No need to H|ii with baggage-claim madness. ^Hi'i.iting the SUV, Ryan opened the back and tossed ^Hiv '< bag inside.,They negotiated the noncongested parking ^H heading for the highway. Ryan steered the Bronco onto ^^tiitc- 95, southbound. ^^Inall talk occupied their attention, ,at least for several miles, JPtt the unspoken concern over Melissa created tension in the } It was Denny who finally broached the subject heavy on I >i'i mind. "Did Melissa finally call?" I Kyan shook his head. "Still waiting." He picked up his cell jili'iiii. "All my calls are being forwarded to this." I 'Any new ideas since we last talked?" "No. I've called everyone I can think of including the poI... " I )enny sighed audibly. "What're you going to do now?" 68 "Nothing I can do, but wait." I "Did she ever pull this kind of thing before? Just up anH leave?" Ryan hesitated. "Well . . . yes. Before we were married." H "Really?" 1 "She got spooked or something. I didn't know where sH was for a couple days." Denny looked surprised. "What happened?" I Ryan shrugged. "She finally called. And we worked everM thing out." H Denny didn't say anything for a moment. "Has she run oB since you've been married?" H "Just that one time." I "Ever threaten to?" Denny persisted. I Ryan turned to his friend. "C'mon Den, cut me some slacH here." Denny said nothing. Eventually, Ryan's apologetic tone ended the silence. "Sorry, Guess I'm a little on edge." "My fault. I'm like a bull in a china shop sometimes,": Denny replied. "She'll call soon." He turned to look out thtj window, quiet for a moment, then "I sure missed the treei; here." j "I miss your mountains." i "Missed your ocean, too," Denny added. i "And your desert sand." Denny laughed. "Yeah, right!" "Just trying to keep up," Ryan replied. Denny grinned back But as the miles passed, a subdued mood prevailed, and for tinremainder of the drive to Lord's Point, neither said another word regarding Melissa. Ryan, however, thought of little else. 69"*- JL .11 KINSISTED THE URGE TO HOPE. Melissa would " w.iiI ing for him, sitting on the back steps when he arrived i hum the airport with Denny. Foolish thought. But then , what if she were? 1 11 imagined the moment clearly, as if the vision might ma- li,i by the sure force of his will. Pulling into the driveway, .itch a glimpse of her. Denny might point and grin at i "Well, whadaya know!" ' I el lie might stand timidly, brush off her jeans, and watch Ic.ip out of the car.JTheir eyes would meet and then ... all mi icy would melt away as they embraced like lost lovers who u'l seen each other in months. 'I'm so sorry," she'd whisper over and over, asking his fornt'KH for creating such a silly misunderstanding. He would i her face in his hands, gently kiss her sweet lips. "Shh, my in>. Ft's okay now, everything's okay." All would be forgiven ilu-ir short nightmare a mere twenty-four hours would i become a blip on the screen over the next fifty years or , a lifetime of love. Not normally given to flights of fancy, Ryan sighed. As they ued the final corner, their home appeared, and he drove into70 the driveway. His chest tightened in anticipation, hoping foi ,1 miracle. But Mellie was not waiting on the porch. The cliche It doesn't hurt to hope crossed his mind. But In dismissed it, discouraged. Yeah, it does hurt. Hurts a lot. "You okay?" Denny asked. He caught his friend's expression of concern. "I'd bettri check on things in the guest room. Clean sheets, stuff like that,' One more reminder of Mellie's absence. She would have been the one to prepare the room for Denny's stay. "There's a bed, right?" Denny joked. Ryan chuckled. "And some new paintings, too. Mellie wnr> eager for you to see them. In fact, one of them is yours to takt home. It was supposed to be a surprise." "When did she ?" "Finished it about a month ago." Ryan registered Denny'i uncertain look. "She wanted you to have it a special gift." "Sure, man. Just seems so ... weird." Weird, all right, thought Ryan as he grabbed Denny's bag and led the way up the brick walk to the house. He was strangely aware of Melissa's flowers, well tended and blooming profusely, The lawn, edged and well manicured, was a mere backdrop for the colorful array. Daisy was barely able to contain herself with delight, meeting them at the door and following close on their heels as they headed upstairs. Down the hall, past framed pictures recording their happy days, Ryan led his guest to the back room Melissa's pride and joy. A breezy seaside retreat, nestled under tineaves, the roomy place was set up for their occasional guests, an well as another showplace for more of Mellie's art. The bed, angled against two white-paneled walls, was draped with an airy comforter that resembled old-fashioned mai tress ticking. Abundant pastel blue and cream-colored pillow;: vied for attention against the white wooden headboard. Win dows on either side of the bed appeared wider, with louveml shutters that opened flat against the walls. Mellie's idea. Shr 71n Sanctuary ilii the room seemed larger by emphasizing the diagonal < imh, spray-painted white, stood along a plate rail a third iv down from the pale blue ceiling. A see-through white graced the room as walls sang with Mellie's floral paint - ''>. of her best paintings hung to the left of the dresser a i< woman surrounded by rosebushes, growing wild on a v mound near the beach-bordered ocean. ir*nily Heemed drawn to the image, gazing at the art as he I > loHcr. "This one's for me, isn't it?" hi nodded. "She wanted you to take the ocean home with i ' 1,11 y raised his finger to the canvas, delicately tracing the mbol in the clouds, a product of the shadows and light, ,1m 11- thought you'd appreciate it." llt'.iutiful," Denny replied, transfixed by the unmistakable 'hue of a cross. I only wish she were here to present it to you herself." ilence reigned for a moment. Then Ryan gestured toward "i>rth-facing window overlooking the garage. "Not much of 'i!im view, I'm afraid." I )enny shrugged*. "The whole house has an ocean view. The > li is what. . . twenty paces away?" About that." Ryan opened the closet, showing Denny the nl.iblc space and extra hangers. "Make yourself at home." Won't take me long to unpack." Denny was staring at the ""ling again, seemingly reluctant to take his eyes off it. Then mined a worried look on Ryan. What is it?" Ryan asked. "Shouldn't we go looking for her?" "Where?" "I don't know . . . but somewhere. Aren't you worried?" Ryan sighed. "Of course I am. But where do we start? She 72 Beverly & David Lewi has one friend, Ali, and she doesn't know anything. Mellii-'n : mother died when she was young. Her father abandoned ln-r, | left her to be raised by a neighbor. No one knows where hi- in now. No other living relatives." "No other friends?" "Not here. None that she talked about," Ryan replied. "Didn't she have some favorite places?" Denny sat on the bed, gingerly testing the box springs. "A few. Watch Hill . . . Napatree. We never took you then last time you came out. I met her there, in fact." i "Why don't we check it out?" Denny persisted. "Take youfi cell phone along." Ryan forced a smile. "We could do a late lunch." "Hey, I do lunch," Denny chuckled. Ryan closed the door, leaving his friend alone in Mellie'l blue-and-white paradise. Denny opened his suitcase, removed his toiletries shaver, deodorant, and toothbrush and placed them in the bathroom One look in the mirror, and he knew another shave was in ordri Plugging in the razor, he registered how quiet the house seemi-i I this time, so empty without Melissa's eager presence. Not th;)l she was larger than life, no. She just had a warm and welcoming way about her, a knack for making a person feel at home. Lasl time, she'd gone overboard to make him feel comfortable, even going so far as to arrange her menus around his preferences. Yet in spite of Melissa's obvious gift of hospitality, her outgoiny. nature, something had seemed amiss. At times she had struck Denny as ... somewhat secretive. Just today Ryan had said ol his wife that she had no living relatives, practically no friends besides Ali. No friends or acquaintances from the past? Her estranged father out there somewhere, never bothering to contact his onlyjjj daughter. Seemed strange. Jj 73 ii luiiNhed shaving, splashing on some aftershave, still abI in Ihh over active imagination. Melissa's leaving surely . c ling a phone call and would it be all right if she stayed on I'll longer. < ilad for the company, Lela had agreed that Melissa could ., ' m another night, or for the extra hours she needed. "Don't my about paying for half a day or whatnot. It's no trouble to ( >bvious relief spread over Melissa's face, giving her cause i mgh. But, then, of all things and on such a heavenly summer lay, too she had gone and curled up on the love seat in the 74 corner of the room, sitting there all morning, just a-gazini* out the bay window that faced westward, toward the area of 11 in i seeker Mill Bridge. What could possibly weigh so heavily on her heart thai ,s/1. would sit nearly lifeless that way? Lela wondered. Was Mditm.i holding her breath for the telephone to ring? She had kept In i eye on the kitchen phone a lot, no question. Seemed so awlul downtrodden, too. Even despairing. So much so, Lela In. I thought of offering her a Scripture or a prayer. She guessed Melissa to be no more than twenty-five. MnyU a bit older, though it wasn't always easy to tell. She won- ,i tasteful amount of makeup and the typical attire that Modern women seemed to feel comfortable wearing these days. Desi^iu i jeans, yes, that's what they were called, Lela was fairly sure. An. I a T-shirt that had some writing on it, but she hadn't bothcrvl to stare long enough to see really. Anyway, the girl from Con necticut had the look of how should she say? an up-to-tlu minute woman. And it appeared that she was married, accordinp to the wedding band and diamond ring on the fourth finger <>l her left hand. A married woman traveling alone? This idea wji-1most foreign to Lela. There was something else, too. Something she hoped she wan wrong about; but Melissa appeared to be in some kind of tron ble. The girl was more than anxious. Lela's concern for her gueM increased considerably when Melissa asked to park her c,n "somewhere else." "Where ... do you mean?" she'd asked, confused, wonder ing why the driveway area outside the house wasn't just fine for a short time. 1 "Is there an out-of-the-way place?" came the strange request. She hadn't had to think much about such a question. Why Melissa wanted to hide her car, Lela had no idea. "Well, I sup pose you could drive on over to my sister and brother-in-law'ii place." 75 Ii'Iimbr Heemed eager. "How far from here?" hint up the road apiece, to the next farmhouse. I'll call up Itiii'ft after lunch. That way I'm sure to catch somebody." iirln't bothered to explain that Thaddeus King, her brother!-, I hough raised in the Old Ways, had joined a church with iiMWTVeitive Amish folk. He enjoyed his newfangled conin I'd, Hiich as a radio "helps calm the cows at milkin' " II iifi a telephone in the barn. I luniks." The color suddenly returned to Melissa's cheeks. ^Vi'll, lirst I'll have to see if there's room for a car in their lirtI." She didn't go on to say that Thaddeus might not 'iin'h a thing as an automobile hidden away on his property, tlnil he and Elizabeth still preferred horse and buggy for iiniin transportation. But that sort of thing wouldn't make liflm-nce to a fancy Englischer, probably. 1t-liHsa stared out at countless acres of alfalfa, and, in the h .-, verdant and rolling hills toward the south ridge. To v Ikt mind, and out of courtesy, she offered to help Lela ii lunch but was quickly turned down. Not rudely, though. >nldn't imagine the owner of this country cottage exhib- iiivthing but genuine courtesy. l.i was the epiipme of hospitality, the gracious hostess, in "I I he fact that Melissa was a paying guest. Lela had pre- I i lavish breakfast, so abundant that Melissa had felt alloo full. So she was content to simply while away the inn gazing out at the tranquil sweep of field and trees, waitif the phone to ring. 77i^yft^a^y^c^ O^^ c^-^n- IURILS OF ENGLISH IVY, trained along the windows in ; itch n, was the perfect touch for the dining area. Melissa i l iI at such a unique window treatment. Something she w\k*x thought of doing. "What a great idea," she told Lela. I decided there was no need for curtains in this room," Lela nurd happily over homemade chicken noodle soup and I heese sandwiches. I could be an interior designer," Melissa remarked. rould've thought to eliminate the need for curtains by : -U.mds of ivyi" Well, I've ahvSys loved natural light." Lela smiled, glanci I In- windows. "Even as a girl, I liked to bring the outside I know the feeling." I lu'y ate in silence until Lela remarked, "There's really no I lor privacy what with the courtyard out back, you know." And all those beautiful trees." 'i >h yes, I do love my maples." \fflissa had a sudden urge to share her tree-hugging expecn, College years had spawned impulsive behavior. Yet I Naved some enormous ponderosa pines in her lifetime and proud of it. Taking another bite of her grilled cheese, she 78 decided against the urge to reveal too much about herself. Sinmust use caution. Still overly anxious about her car, Melissa asked Lela when she might be able to move it. "I'll call my brother-in-law as soon as the table is cleared off and the dishes are washed and dried." Which she did promptly and without accepting Melissa's offer of help. "Hello, Thaddeus," Lela said when he answered. "Well, how are ya, Lela?" She filled him in quickly, so as not to call too much attention to her suspicions. After all, Melissa was sitting right across the room, curled up on the same sofa as before. "I have an overnight guest who needs a place to put her car. Somewhere out of the way," she told him. "That's no problem. She can park it in our shed for the time being." Thaddeus fell silent for a second, then asked, "When didja decide to take in boarders?" "Just last evening." "Does Elizabeth know anything 'bout it?" "Well, not yet she doesn't." He sighed into the phone, probably mulling things over. Before he could question her further, she said, "Then you won't mind about having a car parked in the shed?" "Don't mind if it ain't too awful long," said Thaddeus. "We'll be on over, then." After hanging up the phone, she invited Melissa out on the front porch and pointed to the sprawling farmhouse up the way, "My sister and her family live over there. Her husband, Thad deus, says it'll be all right to put your car in their shed." "Thanks, Lela. This means a lot to me." Melissa pushed her hair behind her ear and turned toward the house. "I'll go in and get my car keys." When she returned, Melissa asked Lela to ride along. "Well . . . that's nice of you, but I don't mind the walk," 79A A H Y iiln't w.ml Melissa to think she was hesitant to trust her. i" witHii'i sure if she ought to. The younger woman was a . rtiU-i all. ! i irif, I insist," Melissa said. "You're doing me a big faun I I'm very grateful." I'apn hud often said if a person was gracious thankful tuuld most likely trust him or her. Melissa certainly was 'All rii'lil, I'll ride there with you." ,Mi n's eyes widened. "So, it's okay? I mean, you're alii lu?" Imp liuighed softly. "Of course, I may ride in a car. I'm not *h, il that's what you're thinking." I couldn't be sure," Melissa said with a grin. "I'm not at uniliar with the customs here. I've heard there are many Hen of Plain folk." Tlml's for sure," she replied, not wanting to go into all that llllW, i hey drove together, Lela in the front seat, telling Melissa (< to turn into the long dirt lane. "See that sign there says It (frills & Sundries that's where you turn. Then keep j till you come to the barnyard." Y|rlinna did just that. And when the car came to a stop, Im-iIi and the children came running out to greet them. > > < tines my sister and her brood. They'll be more than in meet an Englischer. They probably haven't seen or I l<> a modern lady like you in the longest time." Vlu-ii Melissa didn't seem to understand, Lela explained littr, "In Plain circles, if you're not Amish, you're viewed as utHider an Englischer." 'Oh," said Melissa. I cla wasn't at all certain if the woman eager to hide her car tiny idea that she was actually considered worldly in the ol Elizabeth and the youngsters gathered round. But, really, whh more concerned how Elizabeth and Thaddeus would i in her taking in strangers as boarders. 80 * Melissa was careful not to stare at Lela's Amish relatives She recalled seeing from her bedroom window this morning tin dark dresses and little white caps on the women riding in tin horse-drawn carriages. But now, as she encountered the linciic of bare feet and the long brown dresses and black aprons wchm by Lela's sister and her girls, and the peculiar black trouseii. suspenders, and cropped hair on the boys, she felt terribly awk ward. Still, their rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and genuine smiles soon captured her heart, and she felt strangely warm. Accepted "Melissa, this is Elizabeth King, one of my three sisters, " Lela said, introducing them. "Elizabeth lives the closest of alL my siblings." 1 "Hullo," said the soft-spoken woman. "Nice to meet you."! The children were next, beginning with Mary Jane, followed by Timothy, Linda, and John, the baby. | When Elizabeth invited them inside for lemonade and cook<| ies, Melissa felt herself tense up. "Do you mind if I put my caff in the shed first?" she asked, feeling the urgency to hide th|] vehicle from prying eyes as soon as possible. 1 "Not a'tall," Elizabeth said, exchanging curious glances wita Lela. I Relieved, she scurried off to the car and pulled it forward! noticing an Amishman motioning to her. Tall, blond, and ex-i ceptionally tanned, the man nodded and smiled as she drove hell car into the shed. Getting out, she called her thanks to him,! deciding that he must be Elizabeth's husband. | "Name's Thaddeus King," he said, extending one hand andj removing his straw hat with the other. "Are you new to thij area?" He held his hat flat against his chest. 1 First question . . . How many more? she wondered. ~ "New England's my home." That was enough. ^ "Just passin' through, are ya?" How far would he press? 81 tip I timed and scanned the farmland with her eyes. "I'd I til nil Lancaster County from friends of mine. I wanted it I'ur myself." Not entirely true, but this would have toit, WHl, then, Lela will just hafta bring you over again someWell show you all around the farm." Iir didn't have the heart to tell him she wouldn't be staying iitity, Yet he seemed kind enough. Helpful, too. Still, people I littddcus made her feel uncomfortable. She just didn't luiw to take him. Was he as considerate as he seemed? lilitli* over just a little," Elizabeth said, waving her hand at iy John. "Your auntie can scarcely squeeze herself in." t )li, I'm fine," Lela said, giving John a quick hug. "There's ltMi! i'i hi v "i room. I I - v were assembled in her sister's big kitchen, all of them, tiif .iround the long trestle table. Mary Jane helped her > i curry plates of cookies to the table. And there was a tall i'i of fresh lemonade, the kind Elizabeth was known to her guests. min across the table, she eyed Melissa, who seemed en- out of place, what with her blue jeans and trendy T-shirt, hoped the fancy woman didn't feel uncomfortable. < '.are for somexhocolate chip cookies?" Elizabeth offered a t)f warm treats, all smiles. Thank you" was all Melissa said. Silently, she reached for ule cookie, displaying rust-colored fingernails. Several flashy i, loo two on each hand. Her Connecticut boarder was i ly well off, wearing diamond-studded rings, ilic tried not to dwell on such thoughts. The Lord was sovn, giving good gifts to whom He saw fit. It was not her 4 to judge. Yet she wondered what Melissa was all about. ' woman renting her second bedroom seemed as naerfich vous -as anybody she'd known. Why so? 82 The walk back to Lela's cottage was pleasant enough, though Melissa felt uneasy about being out on the open road. So vul nerable. Too accessible . . . Even with Lela at her side, she felt the old apprehension settle in. Wild strawberry vines grew in the grassy ditch ant I occasional roses bordered the road. The setting reminded her ol some of Ryan's favorite haunts in New Hampshire and Vet' mont, where winding narrow roads led to delightful destination such as ancient covered bridges and cider mills. The song ol many birds gave her courage, sounds reminiscent of her New = England home by the sea. j Home ... ._; Ryan was and always would be her home. Where he was, \ there she longed to be. He had found her at a time when sin i was lost, disconnected from the world. Young and terrified, she had welcomed his love, making his heart her home. I have to let him know I'm safe, she thought. He deserves to know that much. She walked a bit farther, reluctant to strike up another conversation with Lela. The smell of honeysuckle, the abandoned road, the patchwork land as far as the eye could see all thin offered her a chance to catch her breath. Desperately, she needed to soak in the serenity, because the minute the phone call came,"; most likely she would be on her way. ' "Such a pretty day," Lela commented. i tt\r ft Yes. "I dislike staying indoors on days like this." She wondered what Lela did for a living. Surely she worked somewhere. "Do you rent out your second bedroom all year long?" "I suppose I would if someone needed it" came Lela's quick reply. "But I just got the notion yesterday to put out my roomfor-rent sign." Melissa was taken aback by this information. "So I'm your first renter?" 83 1 -I dropped the idea in my heart," Lela surprised her by Yen, you're the very first." H, I'm honored." i.i conlimied. "I'd been reading my Bible and praying, i< ihtt Lord what I might do to help someone in need." IpIIfmmi hardly knew what to say. Hadn't she herself made a i In God last evening, as well? A reckless one, at best. She'd I (tod to help her get away from that monster in the gray i I tin believe God answered my prayer," Lela added. \mi mine, thought Melissa. "'mi believe in Him, don't you?" In question was completely unexpected. She thought how > 'ht answer. Lela's face was indeed earnest the good ' was waiting for an honest response. She deserved as I'm not much of a prize for God, I'm afraid," she admitted A II, now, you don't have to be," Lela said. "The Lord i look on your heart and expect it to be neat as a pin. what He wants to do for you." in wondered how a stranger could know anything about 1 I he house. Black-eyed Susans bloomed en masse in a cl perennial garden, outshining the other flowers. '( there taxi service out here?" she asked, not weighing the rquences. 84 "Well, I suppose there is, yes." Lela looked puzzled. "Why do you ask?" She knew she owed the woman an explanation as to why uln wanted to call a cab when free transportation her own c;u had just been concealed in Thaddeus King's shed. "I have u quick errand to run," she said. "I wouldn't want to bother yoin sister and husband again." Lela's eyes widened. She was clearly confused. Quickening her pace, Melissa worried that she'd missed ln-i phone call. "Are you in a hurry?" Lela asked as they approached tin sidewalk leading to her house. "Just a little." She stopped to admire the garden, hoping Lola wouldn't pry. "Shall we cut some flowers for a bouquet?" Lela suggested, her voice higher in pitch than before. : Picking flowers in Lela's garden would be a delightful experience, but she wanted needed to send an e-mail to Ryan, 3 risky as it was. She had to make contact with him, even thoughi she'd been warned against doing so. He would receive the mes<; sage on Monday morning when he turned on his office corn-] puter. She'd use his personal e-mail address at work. \ "I'll take a rain check on the flowers," she said, hoping shii hadn't offended her kind hostess. She could hardly wait to call; a cab and get to town, locate a place to rent some Internet time, \ A short message would soothe some of Ryan's pain. : Love always finds its way home, Mrs. Browning used to say, Now, fondly recalling the woman who had served as her second mother, Melissa was surprised to have forgotten the often repeated words. Remembering gave her permission to follow through with her plan, despite the perplexed look on Lela's face, Something's awful wrong, Lela thought as she watched tin* yellow taxicab pull away. She thought of calling Elizabeth ami confiding her growing concern about the woman who'd rented 85 |irtit- bedroom. One minute Melissa wanted to hide away mi i or ho it seemed. The next she was willing to pay good y tor a taxi to drive her all the way into Lancaster. Well, I til n't care to think what a pretty penny such a trip might Yrt, why did she care? She'd encountered strangers nty through the years. None as scatterbrained and restless, i Just what Melissa's story was, she didn't know. i llcnly, out of the blue, a strange feeling of foreboding ill .cla's mind. A feeling of... what? Fear? Danger? Puz' Iut own emotions, Lela went immediately to her bed- < losed the door, and knelt beside her bed. "Lord, I don't i.uxd why Melissa is here. But I know you have a purpose ii> continued to pray for her guest, but the inexplicable fear l< prned in her heart. The fervency of her prayer increased NpoiiHc, and she stormed the gates of heaven with her pe- n lor help and peace, until Lela felt like Jacob of old, who wrvHtled with an angel. iln* lost track of time as she interceded. And gently, quietly, jiUiilm came to mind: The angel of the Lord encampeth round I them that fear him, and delivereth them. A ray of hope (I the darkness, and with it came renewed peace of mind. Iv to let the quiet embrace her, Lela collapsed on the bed, iiiHk-d. 87 f-U^i in'! STARED AT THE SCREEN of the small portable cornputer, took another drag on his cigarette, then ground the butt iulo the table. Sitting in a motel room specifically designated for inuinmokers, he waited patiently for the Modern to dial the numIhi, He had all the time in the world. Once the connection was made, he punched the keys, bringin).', up the Global Positioning Satellite Tracking Web site. He iiilcred his password, ID, and the vehicle control number. Seconds later, he had what he wanted: a detailed local street map niul a red star blinking beside the street address. I f.e smiled, Ik another cigarette, then clicked the screen through several windows, cross-referencing the street address with a name. Thaddeus King, 1135 Hunsecker Road, Lancaster, Pennsylvania. "Gotcha, Missy James," he whispered, his smile turning to n full-fledged grin. The state-of-the-art tracking device a transmitter on the woman's Toyota Camry, about the size of paperback book, weighed less than half a pound. Attached beneath the vehicle magnetically, it linked to the car's own battery system and harbored a NASA-developed stealth antenna. I Indetectable to the casual observer, even a car mechanic could 88& David Lewis be fooled, assuming the small box performed a computerized automobile function. Accessing the United States Government Military Global Positioning Satellites, the device transmitted its exact location within thirty feet of accuracy. What would I do without my marvelous toys? he thought, recalling the startled look on Melissa's face when he found her just outside Trenton, New Jersey, after she'd managed to elude him in New York. Finding the woman had been easy. A quick call to his GPS tracking service operator had alerted him to her location on Route 30, heading west, even reporting the Camry's precise speed at the time: sixty-seven miles per hour. Simple as that. And now . . . she must feel safe again, he thought, chuckling to himself. Secure as a mouse in a cat's paw. He was about to disconnect when the thought occurred to him to double-check the history of the transmitter determining each specific location of the car during the past twenty-four hours. Clicking on history, he discovered Melissa's vehicle had not been parked at the King residence very long, little more than a few minutes. The first significant stop in Lancaster County Friday night had been a restaurant on Route 222, followed by another stop at 702 Hunsecker Road, overnight. "Thought you could lose me ..." he muttered. He cross-referenced that location with the name/address software. Within minutes another name materialized: Lela Denlinger. So . . . that's where you're hiding. Closing the GPS Web site, he disconnected the Modern from his laptop, then attached a portable telephone scrambler to the phone handset. Although he enjoyed taking chances, his partners were the nervous types. Without the aid of a scrambler, they would insist on speaking in elaborate Russian code, indecipherable to the most skilled translators. Two short rings, then "Yeah?" a gruff, apathetic voice answered in his native tongue. "Got something?" 89 I "I'ound her." I The voice spewed profanity. "What are you waiting for?" I "Relax. We'll have what we want by tomorrow." I "What about the husband?" I "Oblivious," he replied. I "Then finish this . . . once and for all." I He hung up the phone and smiled once again. At times his |w<>rk was pretty dull. Then there were times like this, when the Illirill of the chase filled his soul with macabre delight. 91grew RYAN AND DENNY DROVE along scenic Route 1 toward Winterly, Rhode Island, and Watch Hill. Turning south on Wsitch Hill Road, they burrowed through a wooded and affluent neighborhood until the road became Bay Street, bordered by tourist shops on the left and a boat-congested harbor on the right. Slowing, they turned right into a small parking lot and parked the SUV facing the dock. They sat for a moment, watching the tourists. In the harbor, moored sailboats rocked with the gentle waves. Sea gulls flew overhead, catching a warm air current and drifting tezily like paper airplanes. Ryan gestured toward the Olympia Tea Room. "That's the place. They got out, stretched their legs, and crossed the street. I Entering the restaurant, they walked through glass doors into a crowded room dominated by dark wood and straight-back booths set in the middle of a checkered floor. Smaller booths bordered the walls near the windows. They were greeted by the hostess, a pixie-faced brunette, who led them to a spot near the window. Settling into their seats, they waited for a waitress to serve water and deliver menus. Ryan pointed toward the far end of the room, where the ceil- 91 92 ing appeared to be made of wine glasses. "Four years ago, Melissa was over there wiping the counter. First time I saw her." Denny twisted in his seat, eyeing the bar and wooden stools at the end of the room. "Proverbial love at first sight, across a crowded room?" Ryan remembered the day as if it had happened yesterday. Melissa's hair had been pulled back from her forehead and done up in a bun. She'd glanced at him quickly. . . . "For a split second, our eyes met, and it seemed as if we already knew each other," he recalled. Denny nodded and added glibly, "So you just happened to walk in here, instantly fell in love, and got married twenty-four hours later." Ryan concealed a wry grin. "No . . . actually it was Bernie's idea." "Your boss?" "Yeah, he liked to eat here. Told me about this waitress he'd met. He was impressed with her and wanted to hire her as his secretary. Before we hired Marge, he sent me out here to talk Melissa into applying for a job." "What happened?" Ryan chuckled. "Well ... for one thing I discovered Melissa doesn't type." "Whoa . . . strike one." Denny laughed. "So the secretary thing fell through. But in the meantime, you fell in love." "Who's telling this story?" "Okay, okay." Denny put up his hands. "I'm listening." "I didn't ask her out right away." Denny frowned. "Why not?" "I don't know. She seemed reticent at first. Afraid of her own shadow." "Didn't seem so shy to me." Ryan considered this. "She trusted you." Denny stared at him, then grinned. "So how did you win her over?" 93 "I just kept coming to the restaurant. Asked to be seated in her fuvl.ion. Asked her lots of questions about herself." I k-nny nodded. "And?" "She answered some of them." He forced a smile. "I think I might've given up." "I did," Ryan admitted. I )enny seemed surprised. Their conversation was interrupted when the waitress came l c i I sike their order. Afterward, Ryan observed the activity in the room tourists and locals. His buddy looked out the window until the waitress I Hurried with their meals. Ryan took one look at the chicken dinner and promptly lost his appetite. At Denny's encouragement, he attempted a few bites, mostly watching Denny eat. Old friends are the best friends, Ryan thought. Eventually, Denny grew silent, studying him from across the table as if biding his time, waiting for the right moment to probe deeper. They drank their coffee, and the tension mounted. Denny fixed on him an expression that conveyed, I'm really sorry to haveU> ask you this. Finally, Ryan said, "Why don't you just say it and get it over with?" Denny smiled-apologetically. "You know me too well, ol' buddy." Placing the coffee cup on the saucer, he felt uneasy. Denny's expression was serious, yet his manner seemed nonthreatening. "Last time I visited, I was bowled over by Melissa's generous hospitality." Denny's voice trailed off. "She knows how to make someone feel . . . comfortable." "And yet ..." Denny continued, "the more I talked to her, (lie more she seemed to be ..." He stopped, hesitating once again. "Go on," Ryan urged. "Well . . . she seemed to be hiding something." 94 L E W Ryan shrugged. "Like I said, Mellie has a hard time trusting people. I think it has something to do with her past, with her father abandoning her." Denny nodded agreeably, a glint in his eye. "You said you gave up on her. What did you mean by that? Did you stop visiting the restaurant?" "You're really interested in this romance stuff, aren't you?" "Just trying to help." "None of this has anything to do with why she left," he found himself saying. "So, humor me, Ryan. What do we have to do besides wait? Tell me the whole story. Start at the beginning." Sighing audibly, Ryan felt tense. "All right, you asked for it. I'll even take you to our beach." "Now you're talking." They paid the bill and left the restaurant, crossing the narrow two-lane street. Ryan touched the cell phone in his pocket. Beyond the parking area, they made their way toward a sandy ridge. Napatree Point lay in the distance. The shoreline was part of a long, narrow cape, jutting into Long Island Sound. On a clear day, you could see out past Fishers Island. Temperatures had risen in the past hour, but sea breezes made the heat bearable. Scattered low-lying clouds hovered at the horizon line as Ryan hiked up a knoll. There, he and Denny peered at the ocean below. Ryan gestured to the stone jetty to their left, and they worked their way through the sand past wild rosebushes, then crossed a small section of the beach before picking their way across the boulders and rocks stacked methodically to create a breakwater. When they reached the end of the quay, Denny appeared breathless with wonder, staring at the ocean as if he'd never seen it before. "Melissa told me about your wedding. This must be the place." "We came here one evening. Said our vows before a minister we found in the yellow pages, then tossed white and red rose petals into the ocean." 95 H| "KoHf petals?" Denny asked. "Another secret meaning?" H| "Mixed together, they mean unity." He pointed to the west, ^Hflir l>i-;ic.h that extended toward Napatree Point. "Mellie and ^HHnl lo come here all the time." I Jenny shaded his eyes, following Ryan's gaze. Several fam- -< played in the sand, tossing beach balls just a few yards t\\. A German shepherd barked and scampered around in a 111 n/.v of delight as he chased a Frisbee thrown by a young boy. IfiilhiT up the beach, teenagers fished from the shoreline. "(1'mon, let's go closer to the water," Ryan said as he led iIn? way. Away from the rocks, they removed their socks and shoes ill headed toward Napatree Point, struggling to walk through > * porous sand. As they did, Ryan pointed out the driftwood, mhells, wild rosebushes, sea birds all the ingredients that r..ive the beach front its character. At last he turned to Denny and forced a smile. "When we married., I believed Mellie would open up more in time. And filie did ... in a way. In her own way." Denny regarded him thoughtfully. Ryan turned to gaze out ,il the ocean, lost in the past, as the waves crashed against the nhore. They stood for several minutes before Ryan spoke again, hn if speaking froqj the past, removed from a distance in time. "I still remerftber the day I found her here. ..." The day had been unusually windy from the start, the sun dipping in and out of clouds. Ryan had arrived at the Olympia Tea Room on a Friday, traveling from Mystic, where he worked. Several weeks had passed since last stopping by the restaurant. He had decided to back off a bit. Melissa, most likely, wasn't interested in romance. At least not with him. Time to move on. He marveled at how little he knew of her. She liked flowers .ind art; never spoke of parents, nor brothers and sisters. And ahc hailed from Minnesota. That was the extent of it. A couple of months of conversations sometimes a smile. 96 So what was he doing back here? Wasting my time, he thought, as he stood in line waiting to be seated. Finally, Suzie, the hostess, greeted him. She smiled at him as if he were a longlost friend. "Hey, stranger," she said. "Haven't seen you for a while." He'd smiled sheepishly. "Been busy." "Too busy to eat?" She laughed. "Listen . . . I'm sorry Melissa isn't working today." Just as well. Then Suzie said something that got his attention. "Melissa was asking about you the other day." He sucked in a breath, trying to act nonchalant. "Oh . . . really?" Her smile broadened. "Yep." Then she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "She really loves to paint at the beach." She nodded her head to her left, toward the public beach area, out beyond the parking lot. "In fact . . . she spends lots of time there. Especially on her days off." Suzie grabbed a menu. "Nonsmoking section?" "How 'bout I come back later?" Suzie smiled knowingly. "Good idea." Taking the hint, he left the restaurant, making his way to Napatree. Climbing the rim, he searched the beach front and . . . sure enough, Suzie was right. There was Melissa, sporting a yellow sundress, a refreshing change. She was walking barefoot in the sand at the edge of the water. He spotted a tripod several yards back, supporting a wide easel. One white swan, on a sea of glass, was the focal point of the painting. Still with her back to him, she tossed pieces of bread to a lone swan, who lunged for each bite. Watching her, Ryan was taken with her beauty, her shoulder-length, sun-touched hair flowing freely in the wind. Unaccustomed to seeing her hair like this, he observed her movements. Tanned and lovely, she leaned playfully toward the swan in response to the bird's fluid movements. The agile animal had met its match. Ryan made his way down the hill and sat in the sand, pre- 96 97 i. mlmfj to contemplate the ocean. The beach was relatively unl "jiilliilrd. Only a dozen or so people. Some jogged by the sea. 1 'ihriN played ball or sat on beach towels in the sand. IU waited, enjoying the moment. Eventually, Melissa _ittii|uHl the end of the little bag of food she had with her and H|ll up her empty hands in apology. The swan waddled off for ^encr pastures. She crumpled the bag, carried it back to the ^Widi, and tossed it into the community trash can. Then she 11 ipped to scrutinize her painting, picked up a brush and dabbed me additional blue on the calm sea. She stood back, cocked her 11 fid as she peered at her work. Seemingly satisfied, she returned ilie brush to the palette and strolled toward the ocean, her ankles ii in enveloped in the incoming tide. Her profile was now visible i i him as she gazed toward the horizon with obvious wonderment. A gust of wind had the nerve to assail her, but she shook I"T head defiantly, clearing her face from errant strands of hair "ul pinning down her tresses with one hand. With the sun on her face, illuminating her near-angelic fea- 11ires, she turned bravely to the zephyr. Smiling, she closed her vt*8 dreamily, as if lost in the ocean's beauty. As he watched from his spot in the sand, Ryan thought he .1* tears on her face, although he couldn't be sure. She brushed her cheek with the back of her hand, opening her eyes and mminting against the sun. After a time*she seemed tired and turned to head back to lnT easel. At that moment she spotted him. Butterflies took flight m his stomach as he registered the recognition in her face, embarrassed to have been caught mid-worship. She broke into a full smile as he rose to meet her. "Hi!" she said enthusiastically. "I didn't see you. How long h.ive you been here?" "Not long," he replied, mustering his best casual smile. "Nice painting." "Thanks. Did you see the real swan? I've lived here three months, and I haven't seen anything like it." Without pause, she began packing up her palette and brushes. 98& Djyid Lewis "I hope I'm not interrupting your work." She shook her head. "I've been painting for hours, so ... no." She removed the canvas, then folded the tripod. "Sit with me?" she asked, sitting down on the beach, demurely crossing her legs. Ryan joined her as they faced the ocean together. She turned to look at him. "I'm glad you came. Haven't seen you for a while." She broke into another grin. "Suzie must've told you I was here." He let out a short, nervous laugh. "You must get a lot of guys asking for your number." She shrugged and removed the canvas. "It happens. Just not the right guys." She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry. I'm not usually such a flirt." Surprised by her openness, Ryan wondered what had happened to his shy, reticent waitress. "You don't have to flirt with me." "Why's that?" He wanted to say, Because you had me from the first day I saw you. . . . But he didn't. He just shrugged, tongue-tied. She laughed softly, elbowing his arm. "You're kind of shy." Humored by the irony, Ryan replied, "You wouldn't think so ... if you knew me." "I hope to have that chance," she said, not missing a beat. He turned to face her, but she looked away, toward the clouds, at the fragments of sunshine peeking through. "I love New England, but I wish it were sunnier here," she remarked. "More like Minnesota?" She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then regarded him mischievously. "You remembered." "I listened," Ryan replied. "Actually, Minnesota isn't consistently sunny, either." Then she paused. "So ... do you remember my nickname, too?" "Sure ..." He paused, too, for effect. "Well?" "It's Mellie." 99 "Wow! I am impressed." Their attention was distracted by a large sailboat, traveling mil toward the outer ocean. "Have you been sailing yet?" he krtl. "No, but I'd love to go. Do you sail?" "Yi-iili, but you can't go with me, you know. You shouldn't I Hilt nil angers," he said with a wink and a grin. 81k- nodded, as if giving his remark serious attention. "Well i liffi, we'll just have to go sailing on our second date." She raised I't't' eyebrows. "What do you say?" "Confident, aren't we?" He liked her spunk. "Just hopeful." Her expression turned more serious and she i|'l>r.iised him gently, her eyes a soft blue green. "I didn't trust .on ,i( first, you know. I don't trust most people." "Can't blame you for that," he said softly. "Why did you < li.inge your mind?" She grimaced a bit. "It's silly, I guess." But he prodded her, had to know. She was coy but met his gaze as if searching for an appropriate response. "Maybe it was . . . your eyes." She bit her lower lip, stifling a giggle, gauging his expression. lie laughed. "You're flirting again." "Maybe." , A knowing look passed between them, and Ryan realized he'd succeeded at last. He had won her over. Their natural rapport, so-called love at first sight a bit of a sputter initially roared into full-blown romance. From that moment on they became inseparable. A few months later, after a whirlwind courtship, they married on the stone pier, just before sunset. Ryan finished their love story, waiting for Denny's reaction. Tossing a pebble into the water, Denny stood and brushed sand from his slacks. "Why the sudden change in her behavior?" he asked skeptically. 100 "I never knew exactly. She just decided to ... trust me." Denny nodded, apparently lost in thought. Then "Maybe you should've wondered if you could trust her. You knew so little about her." "Maybe so." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Ready to -\ it go? "Sure." Ryan led the way back, plodding toward the stone pier. They climbed the ridge and headed back to the car. Reaching the Bronco, Ryan unlocked the car, but Denny leaned on the door without getting in. "Listen, I didn't mean to pry, okay?" "Yeah, you are a bit on the nosy side," he quipped, looking back toward the ridge. Their beach. "So what's the next step in finding Melissa?" Denny asked, doing it again. "If I haven't heard from Melissa by Monday, I'll report her credit cards and cell phone. Hopefully trace her location." Denny frowned, reaching for the car door. "I guess I'm not very good at this waiting game." He had to smile. "Sure you are. You've waited years for me. You know Christianity and all?" They got in the car. "I'm still waiting," Denny said. "See? You have the patience of a saint." "You're quoting Revelation, my pagan friend." Denny grinned and shook his head in mock disgust. Ryan was glad to be heading home as he pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. There was little left to be said as dusk delivered a panorama of color. Perhaps a sign of hope. ... 101^ J &eW' KYAN CHECKED THE DIGITAL CLOCK on his nightNtttnd. 4:21. In a couple of hours, dawn. He pushed on his pilJnw, turning away from the window, struggling to recall what day it was. Sunday . . . His friend, Denny Franklin, was sleeping down the hall in I ho guest room. Daisy was. . .where? Sitting up, he peered mound the dimly lit room. He spied the dog sprawled on the lioor, her head draped over one of Ryan's slippers. Sleep on, girl. Melissa, on trie other hand, was probably holed up in a motel Noiiu'where. Did she miss him? Was she lonely? Mellie . . . call me. Pick up the phone, let me know you're An image flickered in his memory, and stumbling out of bed, In* located Melissa's note on the dresser. Holding it again, he i clived the first moment of discovery, two days ago. He lay on the bed again and pushed back the covers, feeling as if he were the one awakening in a strange motel, in an unfamiliar town. . . . Daisy roused a bit and pattered over to the edge of the bed. I'lacing her paws on the mattress, she hesitated as if reconsidering the height. 101 102 "Come on, girl," Ryan replied, patting the bed. "S'okay." Suddenly confident, Daisy burst from the floor, landing awkwardly on his stomach. "Umph!" The dog went straight for his face, blanketing him with sloppy saliva. He covered his face with his hands, protecting himself from the barrage. "Too early to play," he said. "Go back to sleep." Daisy stopped and began to whine. Following her gaze to Mellie's side of the bed, Ryan felt renewed sadness. "I know, girl. I miss her, too." Still whimpering, Daisy snuggled into the cavity at his side, and Ryan stroked her fur, attempting to comfort his pet. Yet his own fears remained undiminished. Melissa sat at the window watching the rising sun wink through the trees. Birds twittered in a large oak tree just outside the window, and beyond Lela's abode, farmers finished up earlymorning milking, no doubt their stomachs rumbling for breakfast. Having slept more soundly than the previous night, she felt better. Hiding her car away had served to lessen her worries, and she'd written her message to Ryan at last a loving memo that told him she was safe. He would be somewhat relieved, she knew, though he would still wonder where she was and why she had left him. Relax now, she told herself, still wondering why the expected phone call had not come. Returning from town yesterday afternoon, she'd inquired of Lela if there had been any calls or messages. "Not once has the phone rung," Lela told her, removing two plump pies from the oven. Concealing her disappointment, Melissa climbed the stairs to her rented room. The weekend was possibly the holdup. 102 103A T U A 8 Y Hiflv I'V Monday she would hear something. For now she nyhl i<> use this time to unwind, take advantage of the gentle Uii\y,, this quaint society of people, seemingly set in the middle I the nineteenth century. Kc.icliing up, she slid back the Priscilla curtains slightly, ^ing Ihe many horse-drawn carriages going up the narrow hue more of them than yesterday. Quite a parade of them, in tiditif, . . . where? To a common church building, perhaps. At I n vnkl.isl, she would ask Lela where Amish folk went en masse. 1 lore she was, the second day away from home. Lela had warned agreeable about allowing her to stay another night. In liu.'t, she assumed that Lela was enjoying the company, since she '*mcd to be going out of her way to serve hot meals, homeI ikrd goodies, and delicious cold drinks. For a woman thirty- !in-thing, it seemed strange that she had no work outside the Iii.me. So the extra income was surely welcome. Kneeling beside the chair, Lela folded her hands in prayer. "I V.u Lord, please make me a blessing to my houseguest this il.iv " On behalf of her additional concerns, she prayed about I hi t>reat-aunt's ill health, a friend's pending marriage, and a u-rond cousin's need for direction in ministry. She also breathed .1 prayer of thanksgiving for God's abundant blessings. The earlicr sense of door* had vanished completely. Her father had taught her and her siblings to lift high the n.ime of the Lord in gratitude for all He had done in their lives .mil in the lives of those around them. "We must never live unto ourselves," he would often say. "Yet we must surely recognize what a blessing our heritage is, a privilege, really, to serve the I ,ord." "Now, Pop," her mother would sometimes chide him, "we .nen't any better for being Plain than the next person." "Well, now that's the truth," Papa might say. Yet Lela felt lu-r father was a little bit proud of his spiritual heritage, the fact I hat for more than four generations, there were God-fearing Mennonites on both sides of the family tree. 104 All well and good, she thought, getting up from her morning prayer. Yet she knew the importance of a person yielding his or her heart to the Savior a personal relationship not relying on the faith of others who'd gone before. With all her heart, she yearned for God and His ways. She longed to be a servant, as the Lord was to His own disciples while here on earth. In spite of her meager means, she wanted to be a giver, as well. She remembered a poem Mama had taught her as a child, about the camel. He kneels in the morning to take the burden upon his back and kneels again in the evening to have it removed. Her prayer ritual went something like that, too, she sometimes felt. Not that she was weighed down with the cares of life like some folk, no. But she was a willing vessel, prepared to lay down her life if need be to show love for others. "Shake me, Lord. May I hurt for my neighbor who may not know your saving grace," she often prayed. Today she wept on her knees. "Help me build bridges to a lost world . . . beginning with Melissa." The dear girl was clearly perplexed, suffering. When Melissa had inquired about phone calls, Lela was sure she saw grave concern in the blue eyes. Who or what was the woman afraid of? And what was so urgent as to keep waiting for a call, not to mention hiding her car? Sometimes in the past twenty-four hours, just thinking on it, Lela was tempted to give way to fear herself having such an apprehensive person in the house. Truth was, she'd prayed Melissa into her care last Friday evening. So without a shadow of doubt, she knew the Lord had sent the woman her way. ^ 4 Hours later, sleep coming in snatches, Ryan slipped out from under the covers, leaving Daisy to nap in the bed. Tossing his robe aside, he showered, dressed, then headed down the hall, looking in through the partially open door to Denny's room. Bed 105 in n! . , room empty. Denny was an early riser. He found his liifin I ill ing in the living room, reading his Bible. "An- you up for some church after breakfast?" he asked, l>< i lint', Denny to fall off the sofa in shock. "I 'I i.it's my line," Denny said, eyes wide. "You're not messiiir with my head, are you?" "What, else do we have to do today besides wait by the | 'I M Hit"1' "'i.iv no more." Denny grabbed the phone book, flipped iIikui^Ii the yellow pages under churches. Ryan headed to the kitchen to cook breakfast fried eggs, I >rrmuu sausage, and whole-wheat waffles the sort of food he ml Melissa rarely ate. They preferred whole-grain cereal and I1 '* h fruit. Healthy fare. "What about the Village Church ... in Groton?" Denny .illinl from the living room. "Okay with you?" "Whatever you decide." Typically, on other occasions when I U-nny had come to visit if Melissa was around, that is no in! had suggested attending church. But this time things were '' up in the air, it didn't matter to Ryan how they spent the l.iy. To some degree time had ceased. He was merely marking ii, hour by hour, till Mellie contacted him. I Inaccustomed to the aroma of rich food, Daisy whined in' 'i.K.mtly, beggingjbr a bite. Ryan resisted Daisy's pleading, and ,ii irtkt* loom for their people. The Plain folk are a close-knitI unfit Miliw.sa nodded, but there was a faraway look in her eyes. '" I lie horses and carriages were hurrying off to worship servft .ill over this area," she added. " 'Tis a common sight every ihcr Sunday morning, round here." She went on to say that the Id ( >ulcr Amish have what they call "off Sundays," when they m'I i;.ilher for preaching but spend the day reading their i n i.in and English Bibles, visiting and resting. I )o your sister and husband ever have house church?" asked . .IdiHsa, gaze intent. "Sometimes. With so many folk per church district, a family loein't have preaching service too often. But I think they're due i" have a meeting at their place here pretty soon." She rose, fill to the pantry, and looked on the back of the door at the - ih-ndar. "Yes, next month. September ninth, in fact." Melissa was quiet for the longest time, then "I really liked your sister." "Elizabeth?" "She reminds me of someone from my childhood." Mrs. Humming's housekeeper, she thought. "Elizabeth's la. sweet girl, and she loves her family, as anyl )dy can see." "She must have a little store back behind the house," Melissa in narked. Chuckling, Lela replied, "Oh my, does she ever. Suppose you saw the sign." "I couldn't help but be curious." "Well, if you stay on another day or so, I'll be happy to take you over, give you a look around the country store." Lela sighed, thinking she ought to stop talking so awful much and eat her breakfast. She didn't want to be late for church. "Elizabeth and I keep the store well stocked with all sorts of handmade items." 108 Beverly & d Lewis "So, you work for Elizabeth making things?" She nodded. "Quite a lot of crocheting and sewing, and sometimes I make quilted pillow shams and bed coverings to match." "Then, you're an artist," Melissa said. She felt her cheeks get warm. "Well, now I wouldn't go that far." "But you are!" insisted Melissa. "I love to paint flowers, the sea. I like to think of myself as an artist, too." "What else do you like to do for hobbies, I mean?" Melissa sighed, getting that distant look in her eyes. "Making scrapbooks is one of my big interests, but it's been a long time since I worked on anything new." Noting her wedding band, Lela wondered how much she should ask. Wouldn't want to pry where she ought not to. "My husband enjoys our vacation scrapbooks," Melissa said, opening up the subject Lela was curious about. "Where do you like to go together ... on vacation?" "Vermont and New Hampshire, especially. We get off the main roads and stay in small towns. Go exploring, I guess you could say." She might've posed another question, but just then, the phone rang. Melissa let out a startled sound, locking eyes with her, but Lela put her guest at ease. "I'll get that," she said, rising up from the table. Turned out the call wasn't for Melissa, but for Lela. "Do you want a ride for church?" asked Sadie Nan, her church friend. "My brother's in town from Indiana. I thought the three of us could go out to eat after, if you don't have other plans." Paul Martin . . . She'd heard through the community grapevine that Paul's wife had passed away, leaving him a widower with a young son. "Well, I don't. . . know, uh, really." She disliked stumbling around like this. Not with Melissa sitting across the room, no doubt wondering what had her so flustered all of a sudden. 109 "I Mi, please say you'll come, Lela. We'll have the best time. Hnujck'H, my brother's been asking 'bout you." Bhr would've said, "What's he asking?" but held her tongue. I'j, it would never do for Paul and Sadie Nan to show up at I.* i door, what with Melissa here. Still, she was more than cui i the perennial borders and herb gardens and tall hedges so 1 haracteristic of English gardens. A rose-covered pergola reminded her of the years spent with Mrs. Browning, the gardener extraordinaire who'd mothered her well into college. Turning backTto her coffee and the delicious "sticky buns," hIh- glanced up to see Lela's face turning a bright pink, brown cyt-H glistening. She was sputtering like a schoolgirl. Well, what whs this? Did Lela have a boyfriend? She continued to observe as the phone conversation ensued. I'Yom what she could gather, someone was inviting Lela somewhere, and now she was declining. Why Melissa cared at all iibout any of this, she didn't know. Sure beat racing around on I he highway, though, trying to ditch the contemptible man who'd tried to bump her off the road. He probably would have killed her if he had gotten close enough. The area behind the house beckoned her, and she found 110 herself gazing with longing, eager to stroll around the grounds. She spied what she thought was a sundial centered in a bed of snow-white and rose-colored alyssum. Leaning forward, then getting up, she moved to the window and peered out. Yes, it was a sundial! She favored the sundial above all the garden trappings in her own backyard retreat. She knew well the rewards, the pleasures reaped from spending time in one's garden. Of all her hobbies, frittering away the hours doing the quiet, contemplative work of pruning, digging, weeding, planting, watering all the necessary tending required gardening was her thing. She often wondered if her years with Mrs. Browning had fostered such a love, wondered if her own mother, long deceased, might not have had a green thumb, as well. From her own enthusiasm for lovely plants, flowers, and shrubs had come her passion for painting. Daddy hadn't seemed all that fond of her childish sketches, but as she grew and her interest changed, he'd shown considerable amazement for her watercolor renderings, especially of roses. "If you'll excuse me, I better see to cleaning up the kitchen," Lela said when the phone conversation ended. "Let me help," Melissa said, remembering her manners. "In fact, why don't you go and dress for church. I'll finish up here." For a fleeting moment she thought Lela was going to reject her offer, but then the big brown eyes softened. "That's thoughtful of you. Thank you, Melissa." "Please . . . call me Mellie," she said all of a sudden. Lela nodded, all smiles. "Well, sure I will. How nice of you to say so." Going to the sink, Melissa turned on the hot water. "Have a good day," she said softly. "You too." Lela turned to go, then paused. "If for any reason your phone call is delayed, feel free to stay on, all right?" She was taken aback by the woman's generosity. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." 112A A 8 Y Mutual admiration society, she thought. All this gratitude exi Itwnged, Well, it was a lovely reprieve from the nightmare she'd [jprienced two days ago. To think she may have found a trustlilhv friend in this Plain woman. . . . In in) time the kitchen was spotless, the place mats shaken >i*i" llu- sink and replaced at the table. With one purpose in iiiul she would give herself permission to relax all day Mei' inu Inn tied to the back of the house, to the four-season porch ' ! looking Lela's backyard garden. Sure, it was the Lord's Day, I A'hi had so aptly put it, but the day was also Mellie's. She ould guard the notion, see to it that nothing marred the next iiefrce hours. Ill113Q^&nwte*' jLi4%&, &n, \VI IKN RYAN PULLED INTO the Village Church parking I'it, llie area was so crowded he had to back out and park across 11 it- street. The church building itself was a white colonial I.inhic New England architecture complete with columns and i I all steeple. They entered through the large double doors to the sound I hymn singing. A young woman greeted them with a smile ml offered each of them a bulletin. Denny told her they were rilling. "Welcome and make yourself at home," she said. "I think yini'll like it here." "I'm sure we-will," Denny replied quickly, with a sidelong glance at Ryan. Heading into the sanctuary, Ryan wondered how he would survive an hour of dull religiosity. He was only doing this for I H'liny, who seemed thrilled to have his company. He sat through a few hymns and some brief announcements. ' I hen the pastor told a story about Jesus meeting a woman at a wi-ll, adding humorous anecdotes and personal illustrations. To Ryan's surprise, he found the sermon rather interesting. No proIrarted conjecture on theology, no demands for money, not even n hint of condemnation. 114HI Beyebly $ David Lewis After the service, while driving back to Mystic, Ryan said little. The minister's words echoed in his mind: Drink the living water . . . and never thirst again. He wondered what Mellie would have thought of the sermon, knowing the answer instinctively. She would have enjoyed it. Yet in the past few years, he'd given little encouragement to her religious preference. Hadn't she purchased the picture ol Christ, so out of place in their living room? She'd also painted the cross in Denny's painting this, very recently. Yes, she was definitely inclined in that direction. "How'd you like the sermon?" Denny asked, interrupting Ryan's reverie. "Short and sweet." "You're hopeless," Denny moaned. "Did you hear him recite Melissa's favorite quote?" Ryan nodded, remembering her framed poster of homeless people standing in a soup kitchen line. Under the picture was the caption The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. Last year Mellie had decided to read the book Walden, sometimes even reading aloud to him. "So you must think religion is the answer to man's feelings of desperation," he replied, glancing over at Denny. "Not religion " "And not everyone feels desperate, right?" Denny paused. "Listen, I didn't come here to pound away at you not this weekend. I mean . . . what with Melissa . . . and everything, maybe this just isn't the right time." "I'm a big boy," Ryan said. "Answer the question." "About desperation? Okay. I disagree with you. I think everyone feels some degree of underlying despair. We just call it by different names. I mean, not everyone's thrashing around in a miserable state. But most of us do seem to be dissatisfied, discontented. And another thing . . . we're all addicted." "Addicted," Ryan echoed flatly. "Yeah. It goes hand in hand with discontent. We're addicted 114 115 having more. Getting more. More with a capital M. But more nt'vei enough. We're like rats on a treadmill. We never catch i > with I lie cheese, but we keep chasing it anyway. We spend ir whole lives running after something anything to give us i i.llillment, to satisfy our longing, our insatiable desire. We think mi Mr money, new loves, more notoriety will finally make the I.Umrnce." 111- stared out the window for a moment before continuing. Mure of anything never satisfies, because ultimately we're look- mih in the wrong place. Most of us grow old thinking that feeling l .hi ,ind lonely is simply a part of being human . . . but it isn't." "Some people seem pretty happy," Ryan objected. "Are they? Really happy?" Denny's voice trailed off. "The 11 .11 u I famous often come to the end of their lives still feeling t uml unfulfilled. It's not money or fame that satisfies, Ryan. Ii'k (Ihrist who offers the more we're all seeking the water that pienches our spiritual thirst." Ryan shook his head. "But most Christians don't act like ilmy're drinking living water." I )enny shrugged. "We only get little sips, here and there. Mrief glimpses of eternity. Not the full deal yet. But, ah ... 'hose glimpses." "So how is any of this proof of Christianity?" "Well . . . think about it. As human beings, we have cornI )U*x physical and emotional needs. All those needs have a cori.Hponding fulfillment. You might say that experience has i Hoven to us that if we need something, fulfillment of that need < -hiHts somewhere, somehow. For example, our bodies need nourishment to survive, which proves the existence of food and water. We need oxygen to breathe, which proves the existence >>r air. We need light and warmth, which proves the sun exists. We desire to procreate, which proves the existence of sex. We i'.ef lonely simply because friendship and community exists. But vim with all these physical and emotional needs satisfied, we i ill feel unfulfilled. Why? Because we have a deeper spiritual 116 need a need for God. And that, my friend, proves the existence of a Creator." "Now you're sounding like Socrates," Ryan said. "Would our spiritual need be the single exception our one need that doesn't have a corresponding fulfillment?" Denny asked. "That seems unlikely. Let me put it another way: If it's proof you want, proof is in the pudding in the tasting. Come to Christ and you'll find the evidence." "But people need the evidence first, don't they?" Ryan said, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Most people don't need proof per se. They need to be willing to repent. The demand for evidence is often a smoke screen for hanging on to sin. For every reason I give you, you can find another objection. If you want to believe, you'll find my reasons are sufficient even compelling. If you don't want to believe, no amount of logic will convince you." "Back up a sec. That's where you lose me, Den. The sin part. Remember our college philosophy class?" "Sure, I spent years recovering." "We were taught that sin is a myth," Ryan said. Denny grimaced. "So you're saying that evil is simply " "Ignorance," Ryan interrupted. "Most skeptics argue that evil and suffering disproves the existence of God. But you're telling me evil doesn't even exist?" "Of course it exists. But as a human race we can do better. Better psychology. Better treatment centers. Better schools. The worst evil we commit is telling our kids how bad they are. If we loved our children unconditionally, imparting genuine selfesteem, our so-called sinful behavior disappears." "I agree with you, but only to a point," Denny said. "Sin goes much deeper into the human psyche, far beyond superficial behavior. As a human race we're sunk in moral depravity. We're bad to the bone. And that's why we experience such desperation and insatiable longing. Because our sin separates us from God. We need divine redemption, not better schools or psychological Band-Aids." 117 Hirer ing the car into the restaurant parking lot, Ryan replied, I'm norry, Denny. It's just not working for me." "Which part?" "The whole thing." (ireen fields, dotted with black-and-white cows, widened out meet the sky to the north. Silhouettes of windmills and silos uu United the landscape, and flocks of crows flew overhead, like i ( dark clouds. Melissa paused at the screen door, a slight shiver running iwn her back in spite of the warm day. Set against the gray ilp floor and white clapboard walls, the cozy porch tempted i to remain in the confines of its protection. She was safe here. i low ridiculous to think otherwise. (opening the screen door, she ventured out. She wished she 1 k| her palette and a canvas. Her eyes embraced a myriad of lur and textures Cleome spider flowers, their slender stems iing four feet high, topped with a deep pink crown. Amassed fl bold grouping that ran along the stone walkway from the IH tune, the tender annuals withstood the sun's strongest rays dur- i>U mimraer. This she knew from her growing-up years at Mrs. Hiuwning's house. Stepping dowTi into the garden area, she felt as if she were -Mtlering back to that familiar place in faraway Colorado. . . . "Come here and look at this, Mellie dear," Mrs. Browning n|led, motioning her to the rows of golden yarrow growing near ilie birdbath. She scurried across the yard, blades of grass cool beneath her I '.ire feet. Always, she was interested in seeing what Mrs. I '^owning was up to, what new bud or blossom she'd discovered. I he woman was a master gardener, and everyone in the small 1'iWn ol Palmer Lake knew it. People would stop by or call for 117 118 gardening advice, sometimes bringing a feeble vine or distress^ I cutting to her for help. Melissa had seen Mrs. Browning work miracles with her green thumb. This woman her father had chosen to raise her, as designate I in his will, was vivacious and full of energy when she worked in her garden. But housework didn't thrill her, and Mr. Brow ning, at one point, decided to hire a housekeeper, who made short order of the dusting and vacuuming, much to Mrs. Brow ning's delight. "All the more time to talk to my flowers," she said, going about her business in the yard. "What'd you want to show me?" Mellie squatted down near the yarrow. Mrs. Browning's eyes shone. "Just imagine what fun we could have drying these naturally." "What for?" "Oh, we can use them for crafts, you know, for presents." She liked the idea and followed the woman to her rose gardens, where twenty different varieties bloomed, a difficult task in such a dry climate. Yet Mrs. Browning persevered, adding mulch and fertilizer, installing a drip hose, and as always, whis pering her sweet talk. Mr. Browning stopped to listen when his wife spoke of another "very special rose garden" in the southernmost section of the yard. "That one's in memory of your father," Mrs. Browning said, pointing to the garden plot, reminding Melissa once again. "How your daddy loved his pure white roses," she said, leaning down to breathe in the sweet fragrance of dozens of ivorycolored blossoms. "White roses stand for silence and innocence," Mellie said, remembering all that her father had taught her of the language of flowers. "And secrecy, too, don't forget," Mrs. Browning said. "White roses have more than just a few meanings." Mr. Browning was nodding his head as if to reinforce the importance of it all. 118 119 "More llian any of that, always remember how much your f.tilii t loved you, dear." Mrs. Browning gave her a little hug, (hi ii went about her work. \lways remember . . . I flu was ever so glad for partly cloudy skies, a reprieve from - typical dog days of August, as she pedaled her bicycle to - meetinghouse down the road. Less than a mile away, the iiitli was accessible either by foot or her favorite mode of importation, her old ten-speed bicycle. The exercise was good < her, and besides that she liked to talk to God as she rode. Arriving at the small brick structure, she parked her bike rtf the side door and hurried into church, feeling terribly uninlortable knowing that Sadie Nan and her brother would be ivinjjj any minute. She'd first met Sadie during elementary Iiool days, both girls having attended the Amish-Mennonite hnol two miles in the opposite direction, over on Snake Hill i i Icring to save-their relationship, she followed her mother's simple of a submissive attitude and quiet spirit, and several mminths after Paul's graduation, rumor had it that he'd married iIk- blond girl and moved to Indiana. "Plenty more good fish in the sea," Sadie had offered in an at tempt to comfort her. "You'll see." Wounded in spirit, Lela's heart was so broken she never cured to hope for another love. She poured herself into her singleness, helping her siblings with each new babe as the little ones came along, tending to her gardens, and sewing her fine Mlitchery to put food on the table and tires on her bicycle. 119 120 Thankfully, her house was paid for, the result of her oldest brother's wise investment. Another brother paid her yearly property taxes and the utility bill each month, so she was quite content to work for Elizabeth, helping keep the shelves stocked with handmade goods at the little country store. The money from her larger-ticket items such as the quilted coverlets and pillows easily paid for phone bills and groceries, with money left over to give to the Mennonite missions and benevolence fund at church. On the left side of the church where the women sat, she found a spot next to several cousins, happy to be surrounded by loving faces. She bowed her head in prayer, asking the Lord to anoint their minister's sermon, that he might break the Bread of Life so needed for the week ahead. She prayed for wisdom and help from her heavenly Father regarding any possible encounter and renewed friendship with widower Martin. And she prayed for Melissa, who'd decided to stay at home, waiting for a phone call. "Touch her with your grace and love today," she whispered, then felt the Holy Spirit prompting her to pray further. "Please send your ministering servants angels to watch over Melissa . . . over both of us. In Jesus' name, amen." Ryan and Denny drove to Noah's in Stonington Borough and ordered halibut for lunch. Later they stopped in at the Stonington Lighthouse, built in 1823 on Stonington Point. The stone tower thirty feet high had once supported a lantern with ten oil lamps and silver reflectors. Denny appreciated the maritime history, commenting on the numerous relics from Stonington's whaling and sealing ships. They spent the afternoon watching a preseason game between the Patriots and the Bengals. Ryan tolerated the game while Denny phoned his girlfriend on Ryan's cell phone, keeping 121 ilie Hum line free in case Melissa called. They chatted for a MMijcl I i.i 11 hour, then Denny made another call to some kid he'd M\> opened the scrapbook she'd recently finished of last year's iup In Manchester, Vermont. Picture after picture of peak fo! (}(< Besides painting, Melissa loved the creative process of 'irikinK scrapbooks. "The preservation of family history," she i I ml l<> call it. Every one of their vacations was imaginatively 1'lulled for posterity, including ticket stubs, pictures, and bro- hi(ri* . I le couldn't handle even a few minutes of this self-induced 'Mure. Setting the vacation scrapbook aside, Ryan's depression i ^pi'ned. His single strand of hope that Mellie would even'urtlly call was beginning to unravel. He'd expected her to i 'hone him within a few hours of her leaving. But the hours were iMining into days. Kyan walked out through the sun-room door, following the l oil path past Melissa's rose garden to the dock, all the while playing events fjom the past several weeks. The sun had*&lready set. Denny was napping in front of TV wn. The moon's silvery glow cast an eerie reflection on the win stillness, accompanied by a corresponding sense of endtsness. Most men lead lives of quiet desperation. . . . "You don't know the half of it, Mr. Thoreau," Ryan whispt'ii'd, sitting on the dock with his legs dangling over the edge. Minutes later Daisy joined him, padding across the suniilfsiched wood to nuzzle his back. I le hugged his dog. Then, facing the vast sea, Ryan recalled I he day he'd proposed to his darling girl, their subsequent pri- 122 vate wedding ceremony on Watch Hill, and her tear-streaked face when he'd kissed her. "I'm so happy," she'd whispered with upturned face, eyes shining. "I wish today would never end." "I won't let it end, Mellie," he'd promised, only to fail. 123(^tisnspd&t- ^T-t^c4-^e^yv i-1ISSIAN-BORN DIMA IVANOV had been abandoned as an "iI'm11 on the doorstep of an orphanage. Left in a crib for weeks m mil with no attention and scarcely enough nourishment to urvive, he'd suffered the kind of neglect that has been known in breed severe psychological disturbances, even psychopathic ii mlencies. At least, that's what his sympathetic psychiatrist had i'il< I him when he was sent to a Psikhushka, a psychiatric hos- luliil lor troubled youths. Secretly, Ivanov regarded his lack of m oncoming car, unable to turn away. I hen something peculiar happened. Unfamiliar emotions 1 fgrtn to click through his awareness like dominoes in a chaintit t ion, Hhame, guilt, conviction . . . ending with a final emotion MM nince dormant through decades of denial the proffer of t'UlHtince. Something he'd last felt as a child sitting across the .I ilt* I'min the compassionate psychiatrist, as the doctor tended in with comforting words. "Let me help you, Dima. I care about ti, , , . You are safe here. ..." I'or a brief, mysterious moment, he felt drawn to these men, il they held the answers to the anguish that had driven him K lifetime of revenge. I le shuddered, and the gun slipped through his fingers, uineing against the concrete sidewalk. He fell to his knees, mmbled for it, finally grabbed the weapon with both trembling ink In that moment, his anger returned, but all resolve had iiiinhed. Stumbling to his feet, he backed away to the sidewalk, Hitin bolted in aa^.ll-out sprint for his car. ' I aking one lSst glance up the block at the Denlinger house In- Amishmen were gone he shoved the gearshift into drive. ids later he squealed a narrow U-turn in the middle of the N< iik and sped down the street, not caring what sort of corninotion he created. 128j HE- !129(^/fiwwi-e^ ^Je-v-e^yi^C'e^v ,'ANOV COMPOSED HIMSELF during the drive toward uniuTticut. Confused and shaken by the events of the night, wondered just what had happened at the little house on the < 11 ed lane. But his mind remained vacantly unaware, as if he i just now coming out of a trance. I le considered turning the car around, waiting for daylight, id making another attempt to approach the house. But thinking i the Denlinger home and the Amishmen caused a cold sweat i break out. No matter. Iy^anov was a resourceful man. In a few hours H 'd be back in Mystic, Connecticut. It was time for a surprise Nil with Melissa's husband. Silently, Ryan slipped out the back door, methodically workiiijj, his way around the gardens to the peaceful cove, coffee cup in hand. The steam curled and rose into the unseasonable cooli ii'hh of early morning as gray-backed terns flitted about. I n. the distance, the sea was pewterlike a stunning contrast in last night's moon-dappled waves. Their sailboat, Mellie, whilted with the gentle lapping of waves, air still as death. Just 130 as sunbeams winked over the horizon a show of gold on Fishers Island Sound an unexpected gust came up. He turned his face toward wind and sun, experiencing the dawning of a new day, a sunrise that held little hope. Slowly draining his cup, he considered his next course of action. Three raucous terns interrupted his thoughts, swooping toward the dock and landing on posts. Waiting. She's not here, he thought. Come again another day. Overwhelming sorrow encompassed him anew, and he turned back toward the house. Where the rise leveled off, he paused to look at the sundial, the focal point in Mellie's miniature rose garden. Abundant with peach-colored thimble-sized blooms, each twelve-inch plant nearly smothered itself in tiny but perfect rose blossoms. Mellie had chosen this classification of rose because of its undemanding nature. "Anyone can grow these," she'd said, laughing out loud as they worked together. The color, peach, had been Mellie's idea. "A peach-hued rose is delicate and stands for admiration. Its Victorian Era meaning was 'Please, believe me,' " she gaily informed him as they planted each one. " 'Believe me' . . . about what?" he'd played along. "Oh, you know." She stood, wiping her brow and grinning her irresistible grin. Playfully, he'd run to her, held her close, and whispered, "Believe that I'll love you for always?" She nuzzled against him silently. Then, stepping out of his embrace, she pointed to the circular bed where the sundial would eventually stand at center stage their rustic sundial discovered in New Hampshire at the Americana Celebration Antiques Show months later. The horizontal stone dial was etched with the equation of time, boasting a metal gnomon and, at the center, a single rose. He recalled her squeal of delight at finding such a prize, and on the drive home, she spoke of nothing else. "We own a true masterpiece," she'd said. "Nearly as ancient as mankind itself." 130 131I Y 1'iHly profound," he'd teased. "Sounds like you're a poet i ,. " Mlk* had laughed with glee, snuggling close to him in the > humming a happy song and reliving their day in New .mtpKhire. "Can we go back sometime soon?" she asked. "JubI nay the word." He would take her to the ends of the nth and beyond if she so desired. Whatever brought a smile ( Mellii'V; lace was worth any amount of hassle, aching feet, ul empty wallet. Upturning to the house, he was met with sounds of Denny inijing around in the kitchen. Apparently, his guest had dei|ptl to cook. "So , . . you didn't like my eggs?" Ryan mocked. 'Don't make me answer that," Denny shot back. "I value in friendship." He dipped his head beneath the counter, tiirhing for the frying pan, no doubt. "Over there." Ryan pointed to the wide drawer under the iiiyi1 and left his friend, going to the living room to phone the liiv, Me left a short message for Marge. "I'll be a half hour .lr* today," he said, recoiling at what awaited him upon his 'I rival at work having to fill Marge and Bernie in on Melissa. When Denny called him to breakfast, Ryan was pleasantly i if prised with the results. Denny had whipped up creamy om- IHh iind plentyof bacon. The food was good, albeit lethal. "A few more meals like this and I'll be dead by next year," lie Kuid, picking up his fork. "Admit it. You like it." Denny grinned. "That's the problem. I should get back to granola and fruit." I It* bit into his toast. "By the way, I have to make an appearance ii; the office, for a couple hours at least." "Not a problem." Denny tossed a bit of egg Daisy's way. I lie dog seemed to inhale it in one sniff. Wiping his hands on i napkin, Denny regarded Ryan uncertainly. "I thought she'd call by now," Ryan said flatly. "I guess it's i uric to pull a trace on her credit cards and call the cell phone 132II II! I Beverly 4 David Lewis provider. I'll do that from the office. You gonna hang around here?" "Sure," Denny replied. "I'll read a little. Maybe I'll look around a bit, if you don't mind." "Make yourself at home, Investigator Franklin." Ryan rose to clear off the table. Together they loaded the dishwasher and wiped the table. Ryan marched through the anteroom door to a cheerful secretary. Marge grinned, eyes sparkling. "What's that look?" he quizzed her. "How was your weekend with the preacher man?" He exhaled audibly. "You know . . . we could all use a little church around here." "Oh my. He is getting to you." He shrugged. "Any calls?" "Bernie left you a note." He felt a surge of disgust, grabbed the folded note paper, and hurried to his office door. Marge called after him, "Say, I almost forgot. How did Melissa like the necklace?" "Don't ask." Not ready to broach the subject, he closed the door to his office. Seated at his desk, he removed the key from his pocket and turned the lock, opening the drawers. He rubbed his face with both hands. Already he felt drained, wished he could turn around and go home forget the day. A flick of a central switch and all computers and monitors in the room buzzed to life. He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes till the market officially opened. Premarket was already in full swing. Clutching Bernie's note, he cringed. The stock tip was comprised of a mere four letters a basic stock symbol the stock for the day. He'd come to despise this aspect of his job. Utilizing the i H j| JJ 133 I mul al. liis desk, Ryan accessed information on the Internet iIns Nlmk's recent technical pattern and the company fun- ... iiIhIh. 1 ,ast Friday the stock had closed at 9 8 VI Contacting nttl'ki'l maker electronically, he placed an order to short iiiy thousand shares. I lira, glancing at the corner of his home page, he saw what I..nl Nomehow missed upon first booting up. A single e-mail >,i\ie. originating from his own address. Strange. Assuming i* h mistake, his finger involuntarily reached toward the del-ny. But just before touching it, instead he clicked the icon. I lie note was from Melissa. / vdii, I had to let you know I'm okay. Someday soon I'll make you understand. I promise. Miss you terribly, Mellie I k' kicked himself mentally. Why hadn't he realized she my I it send a note via e-mail? At least he was relieved to hear >lntI uhe was safe. Also that her leaving wasn't about them. But 11 mil,, then what? mi Lola thought surely she had time to dash over to Lapp's ( iencral Store, less than half a mile away, before midmorning Imrc-H. liezekiah Lapp never turned away early-bird shoppers, * veil up to an hour or so before the store officially opened at nine o'clock of a morning. She was planning a special dinner at noon for Melissa, who'd hpen in a strange slump before breakfast. The phone call she httd been eager for had simply not come. Some rhubarb tapioca and Mama's old-fashioned chicken loaf i(Mill pimentos and melted butter might help, she thought. 134 L E W But she'd run out of a few of the necessary ingredients and decided, since it was another nice day, to bicycle down to the store bright and early. The sky was bluer than yesterday, hardly a cloud, though she could see some building up on the horizon to the north. Still, she was ever so glad to be running errands on behalf of a wounded soul. Arriving at Hezekiah's grocery shop, she parked her bike in one of the parallel spots, putting the kickstand down. A shiny blue car was parked at the end of the row. She entered the store, the tinkle of the bell greeting her. "Hullo there, Lela," called Hezekiah. "I see you're out right early today." She smiled back. "Need some pimentos for dinner," she replied, spotting another customer, a man whose back was turned to her, in the bulk foods aisle. "Let me know if I can help you find anything," Hezekiah said, glancing over at the man. "And you, too, sir." That's when she noticed the familiar profile, though it had been quite some time since she'd laid eyes on Paul Martin. Nevertheless, he was as handsome today as he had been back in high school. Her heart twitched a bit at the memory of those longago days. The demise of their love, due to the woman he'd chosen over her. Deceased now. The irony of it all. Refusing to stare, she kept busy with her search for the items she needed. Paul was only a small part of her past, a truly happy memory if one left out the way things ended between them. 'Course, now, what with Sadie Nan eager to play matchmaker, well, she just didn't know what to think about such a thing. And yesterday, after church, Sadie had tried mighty hard to catch Lela's eye. Yet she would have nothing to do with Paul's sister's scheming. The fact of the matter was, she didn't like the thought of playing second fiddle to the fancy blond girl who'd claimed him as her husband. Dead or not. "Well, my goodness, is that you, Lela?" She heard his voice, and something in her froze. 134 Ii135 I iiniinfjj, she gave him a cordial smile. "Hello, Paul." I'd Imped to visit with you yesterday after church, but you : ill out before I could " vVliiil brings you to Lancaster?" she broke in. I till iiiul ruddy, he looked at her with shining blue eyes. His 1 ! I trow n hair was cropped around his ears, cut and styled as \\\ hc'il never grown up in a strict Anabaptist community, nhr found his meekness appealing. "I'm here on business," jtliod, uiH-what relieved, she wondered how long he would stay, ill nhe had no intention of asking. For sure and for certain, Nan would be all too eager to fill her in. I hope you'll consider having dinner with me." His voice umtle, his eyes sincere. "I know I don't deserve a second ' ." /hill was she to say? Spurned in her youth, here was the A'ho'd rejected her for another. "That's awful kind of you," 1 iid softly. 'Msiy I call you sometime?" He wasn't mincing words. "I don't know . . . how I feel about that," she confessed. I le smiled down at her, waiting. "And . . . I'm real busy with a boarder presently." "()h?" He seemed surprised to hear it. "I didn't know." Ih-amse she'Vas not in dire straits, definitely not, she didn't tin! him to think she was vulnerable, in need of a man. "God mined me in that particular direction just recently," she said, vi-iilinjj; nothing about Melissa or the young Englischer's desi>i i.ilinn. "Well, then, I'm glad to hear it." He stepped back, smiling hlM winning smile. "My sister tells me you're well." "Yes, and you?" "Very well, thanks." She hesitated to inquire of his wife's fatal illness. The subject bellied rather untouchable. "I'm sorry to hear of your loss." "Thank you, Lela. How generous of you to say so." 136 To think otherwise would have been erroneous on his part. Surely, he must have known how very painful their breakup was for her. "God bless you, Paul." She said it quickly, turning away to tend to her shopping. -H 11 137^ d^iiyHve -i I led his earliest impression of Ryan's wife: she was simply I- .miiful. Furtrfer conversation more than confirmed his initial i. Hon. Not only was Melissa very attractive, but more imImhItint, she had a warm personality and a sweet spirit. He'd announced to Ryan in her presence, "You definitely inamed up, my friend." Kyan had laughed. "You aren't telling me anything." Melissa only blushed, slipping her arm through Ryan's. I Ir also remembered the morning Ryan ran off to the grocery lon\ leaving him alone with Melissa in the sun-room. They lute! exchanged small talk until he broached the subject of faith, iliNiovcring her to be open and receptive to spiritual things. While he painted word pictures for her of a loving, personal 138 God, she perched on her stool, painting her oceans and listening intently. "That sounds so ... intriguing," she replied, seemingly sincere. In answer to her questions, he used Scripture, to the best of his ability. Melissa was definitely searching. Eventually, Ryan returned with several pints of frozen yogurt. After that singular moment, no other opportunity to discuss spiritual matters with Melissa had presented itself. Yet something about that day stuck in his memory. He had been talking about growing up in Colorado, then switched gears to inquire of her home state, Minnesota. Usually candid, Melissa had turned elusive. At the time he'd dismissed it, thinking perhaps she was uncomfortable discussing her childhood. To a history and geography buff, Denny found it strange that Melissa was uninformed about the basic facts of her own state, as if ten thousand lakes, enormous mosquitoes, harsh winters, even outlandishly high state taxes were somehow foreign to her. Now, with Mellie on the run, the incongruity of their previous discussion haunted him. Several scrapbooks were lined up along the top shelf of the bookcase. He reached for them and, one by one, perused the pages mostly pictures of Melissa and Ryan at scenic or historic sites in New England, intermingled with poses at the beach or in front of quaint B&B's. He examined each picture carefully as if something in Melissa's face, her expression might reveal something important. He was unsure what he was looking for, but he had a peculiar feeling about the whole situation. The jangle of the phone interrupted his musing. He rushed to the living room in search of the portable. Finding it, he answered, "Hello? James residence." "Denny " Ryan's voice. "What's up?" "You're not going to believe this. Mellie sent me an e-mail message." 11 3| 1j 139 i Mnny breathed a sigh of relief. "Where is she?" >\\c didn't way, but she's all right." in! i-i M11 used by Melissa's secrecy, Denny did not reply. lit* tl Wr . 1 wanted you to know," Ryan said. "See you httlri,' Denny said and hung up, puzzled, then headed tti llu' sun-room. Melissa was safe. Thanks, Lord. Carehr placed the scrapbooks back on the shelf, determined to on other matters. But a smaller album, tucked back in the I1, niui'lvt his attention. I tit '/ yv, man, he thought. She's okay. iitiu'lliing urged him on. He thumbed through the pages, a l'j photo to each album leaf. The small scrapbook contained iIwhkI photos of Melissa. Photos of a giggling girl riding her posing shyly next to a woman who was possibly her U-r, walking with several other girls on a pathway beside a .It lulu-, opening Christmas presents. The excitement in the ' 'II rhild's innocent smile touched his heart. He was about to I hi' album when he noticed something slightly different I the final page. He felt its thickness bulkier than the oth- \Wi.v? 1 lluinsily, Denny poked the page protector, creating a gap I Ihm thumb arid forefinger to explore. Sure enough, another I it'I u lay hiddef! between. Carefully, he pulled it out and stud- \ I In- birthday picture. A current of energy shivered down his ,. I II u- photo was of Melissa blowing out candles on a cake. 1 iiiiv squinted to count them. Eight. Beside her, an older man | I nearby, probably Melissa's father, his hand resting pronely behind her chair. Neither Melissa nor the man in the !- i'> caused him concern. Directly behind Melissa was a winiind through it a grove of trees. And not just any kind of i I hese were aspen trees. .Aspens didn't grow in Minnesota. They thrived at higher -leviitions, typical of Colorado. Even more disturbing was the 140 color of the foliage. The aspens had turned golden ... an autumn birthday. . . . Denny tapped the photo. His mind flashed back to a phone conversation he'd had with Ryan last spring. For her birthday, they'd gone out past Fishers Island in their sailboat, taking along a "catered picnic lunch," a surprise from Ryan. But Melissa's birthday was supposedly in mid-May, not fall. Is that why this photo was hidden? Must be an explanation, he thought. After all, why would anyone lie about their birth month? For that matter, why fib about your home state? The more he thought about it, the more it bugged him. Wandering through the living room, he looked out the back window and checked his watch: 10:15. Ryan would be home in a half hour. He recalled his friend's invitation prior to heading off to his office. Make yourself at home, Investigator Franklin. He knew Ryan's filing cabinet was just off the family room, downstairs. Hurrying for the stairs, he felt a twinge of chagrin. Was he crossing a line? Maybe. Flicking on the light, he swept past the pool table to a tall black cabinet standing against the far wall. He reached for the top drawer and tugged. Unlocked, it slid open easily. He began to work his way through the multitude of alphabetized files. The label Personal Information caught his eye, and he opened it, finding Ryan and Melissa's marriage certificate. Examining the document, he found nothing unusual. He continued his thorough search until he spotted what he had been looking for: Melissa's birth certificate and social security card. Reading the certificate, he noted the newness of the document and the word "reissue" at the bottom. Birth Certificate Louis Weiner Memorial Hospital Marshall, Minnesota 141 H This certifies that H Melissa Leigh Nolan H was born in this hospital I at 2:21 P.M., I on Saturday the 7th day of May A.D. 1975. m i cording to the document, Melissa was born in Marshall, Hi ^sota. The superintendent of the hospital had signed on iipiopriate line, as had the attending physician. Below their { Miri'H, Denny saw something that gave him pause. Family ft iy, Mother's and father's full names, their birthplaces, and will dales. I ' I 'he question nagged at him: Was her birth certificate valid? Bfuny was somewhat familiar with the process of personal idenHjlfrttion in the U.S. and knew that birth certificates were widely Htaklered to be the basis of identity. Before God had nudged ^^Howard becoming a teacher, Denny had worked as a security ^^Hr for a high-profile law firm his size had made it seem a ^^Hftl career choice. During that time, he'd heard of people Boning to escape some crisis who assumed a new identity by j i forging a birth certificate, which was risky, or having a n , ertificate issued in the name of someone who died at a jomij age, thus ..assuming that person's identity. With a fake Huh certificate,**all the other pieces of identification could be << uned, including social security number, driver's license, even W l i' maintained. A forgery was detectable in minutes; the agency .-mM mmply have no verifying records of the forgery. But the % niiiption of a deceased person's identity was more difficult to After all, that birth certificate would be registered in a i 11 county office. Unless the county cross-referenced birth cerhlu ,iU'H with death certificates, this kind of assumption of idenlity UHiially went undetected. 142 This is absurd, Denny thought. Who am I kidding? Would Melissa actually fake her identity? Unassuming and sweet, the young woman's only real crime was fleeing her home, leavimbehind a mysterious note. He came close to dumping everything back into the file anil just forgetting the whole thing. But Denny couldn't walk away, not knowing for sure. Closing the filing cabinet, documents in hand, he trudged up the steps to the main floor. From the kitchen phone, he dialed Information. "What city?" the operator asked. "Marshall, Minnesota." "One moment, please." A few seconds later, another operator's voice "What listing?" "The county records division, where birth and death records are kept." "Just a moment." A computerized voice read the number, then immediately connected. The phone rang. . . . "County recorder. Gwen speaking." Denny identified himself and told the clerk what he was looking for: the birth and death record of a Melissa Leigh Nolan, born in 1975 at Louis Weiner Hospital. He could hear her keyboard clicking in the background. "Mr. Franklin? We have the record of her birth but not her death." Denny thanked her and hung up. He sighed. Maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe Melissa was who she said she wasMelissa Nolan, born in Marshall, Minnesota, in 1975. Denny chuckled. I must have a bad case of over active imagination. But he wasn't finished with his follow-up. If a person died outside their home county, the place of birth may not have the death record, even if cross-referenced. One more lead to follow . . . Birth history. The mother and father. Ryan had told him that Melissa's mother had passed away and that her father had abandoned her to the care of a neighbor. But was the story true? One way to find out. ' . .'... ' ' ' 142 ' ; .: ' ' 143 H I If iliulrcl Information again, feeling increasingly stupid. He Hd k *il bin watch again: 10:30. When the operator in Marshall, Hliiin'Molii, came on the line, Denny read the names directly off ill Ih certificate. "Bill and Georgia Nolan, please." H ilt'tu'e prevailed while the operator's computer searched for Ht luting, "I show no listing for Bill. ... I have a William " I h'b try that." H I >t*nny was connected, and he could hear the phone ringing. Hello?" H iVn, I'm trying to locate a Bill and Georgia Nolan." H Wi'll, my name's Bill, but there's no Georgia here. Wife's H m Hetty." I ' )h, sorry to bother you," Denny replied, discouraged. B< 'o let it go. H I Hit I know just about every Nolan in the area." H Yes, sir, well, thanks " H We had a Georgia Nolan, now that I think of it. Lived H< >mwn from us. Let me think . . . yeah, I think her husband's Hii". yas Bill. Like mine. But I'm thinking they moved away." H < )h." Denny wasn't sure how to proceed. "I was hoping to Hi nme information concerning their daughter." H I )aughter, you say?" The man paused, then "Hey, the Mil. jiiKt walked in. Let me ask her if she remembers anything i the family*"' I Ir heard muffled voices in the background. Bill Nolan had Mrd the phone with his hand. In a moment he was back on iln Inn-. "Well, the wife remembers 'em better'n I do. She says iluii iliinghter lives in Minneapolis somewhere." "Mr. Nolan, I've taken enough of your time " tk I Hit Bill went on. "Guess their other daughter died real Hjung. Didn't even make it to school age." I I lenny shuddered at this revelation. "Do you happen to Bow her name?" I "Here, you talk to the missus." I Hetty got on the phone and began chattering away as if I 143 144 Denny were an old friend. "Bill doesn't pay much attention to people not like I do. I remember Georgia Nolan real well, but they moved away years ago. What a tragedy! I don't think sinever recovered." "Excuse me?" "From little Melissa's death," she said almost reprovingly "What a wonderful child. I can remember her from our church nursery. Used to substitute teach for the regular teacher on Sun days sometimes. Too old now for youngsters, though." "Where did their daughter die?" Betty paused, considering Denny's question. "You know," she began again, "I don't think it was here. Near the Twin Cities, I think. We heard about it, though, through friends in the church. Snowmobile accident. Can you imagine that?" Eventually Denny hung up, after suffering through Betty's lengthy recollections of the other Nolan family. Enough information to know he'd found the truth. Melissa Leigh Nolan of Marshall, Minnesota, born in 1975, died years ago. Ryan's wife had obviously assumed her identity and obtained a copy of the birth certificate. The information left Denny reeling. Questions continued to plague him. Who was Ryan's Melissa? But more importantly: Why had she taken on the identity of another? Folks who assumed false identities were running from some thing in their past, either from creditors . . . or from the law. What was Melissa running from? Denny returned the folder to Ryan's filing cabinet and was closing the drawer when he heard the sounds of the upstairs back door. Ryan was home. 145(^&nwv~tz 11 I laving received the first bit of good news in days, his I1 ml Hcemed hopeful . . . and now Denny had to deliver more Irt'l IH'WS. I ' living Daisy another pat, Ryan said, "We could hit a donut L,." I Sure, whatever." Wasn't his place to throw a damper on jlin M, I They drove past Ryan's office building and over the drawid^e. A banner, still advertising last weekend's Annual Mystic Bill door Art Festival, extended across West Main Street. Ryan hrntioned that Melissa often entered her work in the juried now, I Not this year, he thought. Maybe never again. "So how did wrryone at the office take it... about Melissa?" he ventured. Ryan begged the question. "I haven't told them yet. 146 Thought I'd wait till tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe she'll be back by then." Not sure how to open a can of worms, Denny fell silent. Hr was fairly certain that Melissa was never coming home. "Did you check back with the police?" he asked finally. Ryan shook his head. Denny struggled with his knowledge of the situation. Whai would Ryan think of his snooping around in his files, callint; record bureaus of vital statistics? Even so, he couldn't just leave his friend in the dark. Ryan would want to know the truth, wouldn't he? They found a parking space on Water Street, then walked toward West Main. "There's a little coffee shop Melissa liked to visit. In fact, Brad Short, the owner, is a client of mine." "A coffee shop owner has money to invest? Thought you guys took only rich clients." "Let's put it this way: Brad doesn't run a coffee shop because he needs the revenue." "Family money?" "Exactly." The storefront boasted signs welcoming the coffee drinkers of the world. Inside, the owner, an older man with silver-gray hair and white apron tied around his waist, stood at attention behind a chest-high glass counter. He was preoccupied with a trio of giggling girls trying to decide which of the many delicious donuts to choose from behind the polished glass. Spying Ryan, Brad nodded and gave a knowing snort. "Hey there, money man, I'll be right with you." He turned back to the group with an impatient look. "Ladies, what'll it be?" "We'll have three of those," said one of the girls, gesturing toward the glazed donuts. Denny and Ryan waited for the young women to divide up the sale, then rummage around in their tiny purses. Placing his hand on Ryan's back, Denny leaned over and said, "Listen, man, we need to talk. Somewhere private." 147 ^^Hluning to face him, Ryan's expression was one of bewil- ^^MUtl, "Something wrong?" ^^K !uukl be" was all he said. ^^Hytn frowned, glancing about the room. "Private enough?" ^^Hurvi'ying the shop, Denny noticed several patrons at one MRp Uible. Smaller tables for two were available near the back m i, "That one's fine," he said, moving toward the rear. m \wv. you don't want anything?" Ryan called to him. Some coffee. Make it black." He took the chair facing the i Iuwn while Ryan ordered. Outside he saw tourists clamber - I wait, hauling their purchases in large shopping bags. >vt*r near the counter, the teenagers moved on as Ryan i iid the owner, making small talk. He overheard snippets of 11 i uwersation. Brad was saying something about the outra|' < i payroll taxes and how hard it was to get quality help. fL I low's the market?" Brad asked. Then, without waiting for Hi .iiiiiwlt "Hey, I got a question about the last portfolio stateHn i'i your office sent out." i Problem?" No, no. Just curious. By the way, how's that wife of yours?" I i van covered well, casually sidestepping Brad's innocent H h-h, but Denny noticed that his demeanor changed, shoulp .lumped. Ryan soon brought two coffees and several donuts hi * I ray. Sliding the tray onto the table, he sat down with his in* k l.o the front door and took a quick sip of coffee. "Speak to )r, my friend." I I )onny sighed. I " I ley, you look like you're carrying the weight of the world." I "I think I am." Forging ahead, Denny said, "You told me nu didn't know Melissa very well when you married her." I kyan regarded him curiously. "So? What's the point?" I "I have a feeling she's not coming back." I "What do you mean?" I "Maybe I should start at the beginning " I "Ciood idea," Ryan said. 148V D T V V t ti L I D a y i d Lewis Denny began with an apology for poking his nose into their personal files, then about finding the hidden photo. He removed the picture from his shirt pocket and handed it to Ryan, pointing out the aspen trees "in fall colors." Ryan seemed alarmed initially but said nothing. Denny pushed ahead to Melissa's birth certificate, revealinr, what he'd learned during his calls to Marshall, Minnesota. 11< shared the exchange with Bill and Betty Nolan, too, the startlinc. disclosure of Melissa Leigh Nolan's untimely death at age five. Staring blankly, Ryan remained silent, but his jaw dropped and his face suddenly paled. He sighed deeply, as if gatherinp, enough strength to speak. "You're saying that Melissa lied aboul who she is?" Denny nodded respectfully. Telling Ryan had been harder than he'd imagined. He felt his friend's anguish, the sting of disbelief. "She assumed the identity of a child who died years ago," Denny managed to say. "How do you know you're not mistaken?" "Well, we could follow up with the death certificate, contact the parents of the original Melissa . . . verify their story." Ryan shook his head, defeated. "No . . . actually ..." He stopped, eyes glistening. "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised at anything, after all this." He shrugged, unable to continue. How many hits does a guy have to take? Denny felt lousy being the one to deliver the blow. A tray fell, clattering to the floor. They turned in unison to look. A long line of customers, eager for donuts and varieties of coffee, stretched nearly to the door. The girl behind the counter came around sheepishly, bending down to clean up the mess on the floor. "Oh man ..." she said, evidently embarrassed by her clumsiness. "Just let it go," the owner hollered from another room. Flustered, the young clerk straightened and scurried back behind the counter to take orders, then filled them singlehandedly. 149 H "Niii* Kuy, this client of yours," Denny interjected, feeling H|fy till the poor girl. H^!!A little rough around the edges" was Ryan's distracted ^^^Mmri ving the clerk's attempt to juggle the crowd, Denny's ^^^froii I in on a middle-aged man sauntering in the doorway, ^^y jj.i.iy slacks and a white shirt. Standing in line, the man ^^^| h I in live sweep around the room, stopping at their table. ^^^| lie turned away, a look of recognition on his face. Strange, ^^^hl I ) "imy, who was particularly struck by the lone tuft of ^^^n tlu- man's full head of dark hair. ^^^t returned his attention to Ryan. "Has anyone ever con- Hfiril you about Melissa?" H "Wningly preoccupied, Ryan shook his head. "No. Listen " H hint then, Ryan's pager chirped. He pulled the pager off his I1 Kcrutinizing it, then finding his cell phone, he punched in H .11 pit* of numbers and waited. "Cover twenty thousand shares inndiately," he barked. When he was finished, he shook his H .>.l "1 need some air. Let's take a walk." H I inched with coffee, they rose from their seats well after the Hun with a splash of silver in his hair had strolled out the door. H "'I'nke it easy," Ryan called to the owner. H "I ley, don'tXwish!" came the crusty reply. H < Hitmde the donut shop, Ryan turned suddenly. "I forgot, Hi in I had a question. Can you wait a minute?" "No problem." "See you in a few minutes." Ryan hurried back inside. Waiting, Denny leaned up against the glass window, watchiiit; iIn- hustle and bustle around him. Tourists gawking and *Ii"I>|iimi>, young mothers pushing baby strollers, traffic backed iM- b I veryone seemed caught up in the movement downtown, L< i \ one except himself. . . and the man he'd seen earlier in the i"l>. now across the street, casually drinking his cup of coffee. 150B E Y E R L Y & D A Y I D L E W I S For no particular reason, Denny felt wary of the man. But he dismissed his unexplainable caution and went back into the shop, where Ryan and Brad were chatting at the far end of tincounter, going over some figures on a piece of paper. Ryan spotted Denny and nodded. "Take your time." Denny poked his thumb toward the door "I'm going to check out the gift shop up the street." "Yeah, sure. I'll meet you there." Denny headed up the sidewalk, trying to shake his apprv hension. But he had an odd feeling that he was being watched, He covered half a block before peering over his shoulder again. The man had disappeared. Denny scanned the area, wondering how the man had slipped away so quickly. Relax, Denny thought, ignoring his sense of foreboding. Stop playing detective. You've done enough harm for one day. He resumed his mission to buy a gift for Evelyn. Something "New England," Denny decided. She'll like that. 151d- fil^i I ON'T KNOW WHEN I've eaten food this delicious," ji m(, noted after the last bite of the noon meal. : vVcll. thank you." Lela, sitting opposite her, smiled. "I |> <'tl lo cook up something extra special for you." i rln was perhaps one of the sweetest women Melissa had * known. The fact that the Plain woman was past thirty and 'H married was astonishing. The truth was, the hostess had I ihing going for her great cooking skills, gardening talent, 11-kept home. Why hadn't she married? Any reasonable | would find feela Denlinger an excellent choice. i'ut Melissa knew little of the dating and courtship practices 11 >- quiet community, and she wasn't about to ask. She did ill tin* blush of embarrassment on Lela's face, the slightly ti i i ctl speech, just yesterday morning. So did she have a man I after all? I heir conversation turned to Elizabeth and Thaddeus and |i H little ones. Lela, it seemed, adored her nieces and nephews. If waH also quite fond of Elizabeth. "We had the most inter|t"'i; childhood," Lela said. "Always together, till school issues [l >i .iled us. But, nevertheless, we had our evenings . . . and the in liners." I "What happened at school?" 152 "Elizabeth began dating Thaddeus, a young Amishman, so she dropped out of higher education, so to speak, preparing to follow in his Old Order ways." Lela explained that the Amish stop educating their young people after eighth grade. "Sinuv Elizabeth was well past that level, she decided to honor her fj ance." "She quit school for Thaddeus?" "To please him, you know." Melissa hadn't heard of such a thing. Women's rights had been the top issue in college. The notion of a woman giving \ip her plans for a man was foreign to her. "Did Elizabeth ever second-guess her decision?" she asket|, "Never, so far as I know." Lela paused. "But, then, Thad deus has always been a good, kind man. He and Elizabeth be came the best of friends, even before their marriage. Still are, | suspect." Best of friends . . . She'd always viewed herself and Ryan that way. And they had been close friends, in spite of their occasional disagreements. The commonalities between them made up for other things. They both loved dogs Daisy was proof and they enjoyed their quaint abode on Lord's Point, the sea, the sailing, and all that the prime cove-front property afforded. How she missed being there, Ryan at her side. By now Juwould've read her e-mail message, and he would know she was safe and sound. She wondered how he'd reacted. Did he long to return a note to her? Did he ... She couldn't follow in this vein of thought. Lela was dishing up dessert. Time to continue their visit, try not to think abo\u the phone over there on the counter, the telephone that w^s much too silent today. "Would it be possible for me to visit Elizabeth's little store?" she asked, accepting the rhubarb tapioca dessert and a warrtv from-the-oven coconut oatmeal gem a delicious cookie. "Oh sure." Lela beamed, her eyes bright. "We can go ov^r after bit." 152 153 ihe wasn't sure how soon "after bit" was, but she would be Miily whenever the time came. "I'm curious about the type of IIiIIm you make to sell." I pin nodded. "I'd be ever so happy to show you some of y piili hwork upstairs, if you'd like." A n v 111 i 11 g to kill some time. She wasn't exactly thrilled about to* tilt.i <>f examining piecework, quilting, all of that. But she [in iiuious about Lela's simple life in Amish country. The Hiiiiy Mcnnonite didn't own much, though her home was nicely Lininlu'd, her wardrobe pleasant, if plain. She hadn't cared or hi I in i'il to learn to drive a car, didn't own one either. Lela's MkNl joy seemed to come from within. She had an amazing ^H oi herself, not so much self-assured as she was settled. At ^Hhi'V worked side by side in the kitchen, and at one point, WrhfKun to hum a tune. The melody offered a reprieve from Hi Ihihu'h angst, if only briefly. I While drying dishes, she made a decision. If her contact had jut i returned her phone call by two o'clock Eastern Daylight I inn , hIic would phone him again. This waiting was impossible. l . had to know what she was to do next. For both her sakeIt I Kyan's. I I ela's sewing room was a tiny spot situated under the garret. w ll shelving accommodated many spools of colorful thread and iliri sewing notions. An electric sewing machine was positioned mi let a window, and there was a table on the opposite wall for in ling out patterns. She also had a small bookcase, where she pi i v*xtra tracts and devotional books. The room was her "quiet I""'" I Ab you can see, it's small but efficient," Lela said, showing |l< Ii:mu. around. I Melissa was most interested in the quilted goods, and Lela Mw ouger to oblige, showing her the original pattern. "I've used kj It) make hundreds of pillow shams," Lela said. 154 Marveling at the tiny quilting stitches, Melissa found herself enjoying this creative side of her Mennonite friend a common thread that tied her to this woman and brought more than a small measure of comfort. When the two women set out later in the afternoon, the road to Thaddeus King's farmhouse was deserted. It was paved, but only a two-lane, and that hardly wide enough for cars to pasn each other. The stretch of road was ablaze with the westerly sun, its dips and turns accented by tall, lovely trees scattered here and there along the wayside. When they neared the large clapboard house, Melissa n<> ticed three of the King children at play in the side yard. Schoi >l evidently was not yet in session. "Baby John's probably down for a nap," Lela commented, pushing a strand of hair under her prayer bonnet. "I dares;iv Elizabeth's taking full advantage of the quiet house, cleaning and baking and whatnot." Melissa was a little surprised that Lela seemed to know hu sister's schedule so well. "Isn't it hard to keep up with four children?" she said, as they made the turn into the Kings' dirl lane. "Not so hard, really. Elizabeth knows how to make the chil dren mind. Besides that, Mary Jane and Timothy help tinyounger two. The more children, the less work a mother ought ;i have." The idea of the older ones assisting the younger children was something Melissa hadn't known, being an only child . . . and a half orphan for the first ten years of her life. In the Jane Austen novels she loved, there was a hierarchy of duties among children, she remembered. She had no way <>l knowing where Plain people got their ideas, not having had con tact with any of them before. She did find the ordering of do 155 T U A E Y ^Hf1 In lien fascinating. Things ran like clockwork at both ^H 11 -1 Elizabeth's homes, almost effortlessly. ^H r aren't perfect," Elizabeth said after greeting them and ^H! Up some shoofly pie. "Don't ever think that." Melissa's ^^B iik comments had elicited the disclaimer. ^^H.try Jane came over and plunked down at the table across ^^t ht*r, "I sewed my first stitches just this mornin'," said the ^^nhltf child. "Wouldja care to have a look-see?" ^^V'l'il love to," Melissa said, marveling at the girl's confidence. ^^Jirljtdf had been lacking in such characteristics, especially ^^fitry Jane's tender age. The years following her mother's ^^wi littd left her unsure of herself and her future. Her loss had ^^t no deep that the mere act of getting up and off to school Hu iIdly burden. ^HM'iry Jane came back, face full of eagerness to show the ^HI|jIiI mI itches she'd sewn into a scrap of fabric. "Mama helped ^H" mIu- whispered. ^H"Yiiur mama's the best one for the job," Lela agreed. ^MfJizubeth waved her hand, as if the compliments were not ^Hji.tU', "Ach, I can't take much credit, really. Mary Jane's a ^^m\ t|iiilter, I should say." ^Hl t-lii grinned at young Mary Jane. "We know who's one of pr> ItcHt quiltera around these parts, don't we?" I M.iry Jane**and Linda, her wee sister, nodded their heads. I id Mama makes wonderful -gut food, too," Linda, just four, [immI, Iht eyes growing bigger by the second. I Haby John began to cry upstairs, and Lela slipped away from ||ln' kitchen to get him. Bringing him down, she soothed him, IliilihinK his tiny back gently. She was so comfortable around I |it I It* ones. Melissa wondered if being at ease with children was [iniUithing a person had to be taught. Or were there women who 11'toll to it naturally, like both Elizabeth and Lela? I "The honor system must be in use today," Lela commented Mil h >tit the little store behind the house. "Juh," said Elizabeth, "and so far nobody's seen fit to steal 155 156 from us, which is right nice." She paused. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you I sold another set of your quilted pillow sham:> first thing this mornin'." "So you must be down to about three sets?" Lela walked up and down the kitchen with John nestled in her arms. "What's left will go fast, I daresay." Elizabeth prepared ,i snack of applesauce for the baby. "I best be getting busy, then," replied Lela while the chil dren contented themselves with coloring at the table. "I oughl.t make up a batch more of them, fast as they go." Melissa enjoyed watching the moments unfold, as if observ ing a scene from an old-fashioned movie. She was impressed with the children's good behavior, as small as they were. She found herself wondering what it would be like to have youni>, sters around her. Ryan might not be interested, as busy as Inwas. But if she taught her children to help take care of each other, as Elizabeth had, Ryan wouldn't have to be concerned over his hectic work schedule interfering so much. Now, think ing about the possibility of being a mother someday, she won dered why she'd never discussed the idea with Ryan. And why he hadn't broached the subject with her. Allowing her hopes and dreams to run wild was a mistake Most likely she was going to be a very lonely woman, and for .1 long, long time. Elizabeth's store was a small but tidy portion of a shed, though it was as well organized as any shop Melissa had evei seen. There were quilted items such as pillows square, round, and heart-shaped on one long row, with prices pinned to each. Doilies, table runners, pillowcases, and linens of all kinds each handmade graced the Amish store. Kitchen items included potholders, mitts, and aprons. There were crocheted sweaters and shawls of various colors 157 ^Hf- i), m well as sunbonnets in all sizes, some small ones ^Bf I toby items terry-cloth bibs with appliques for both ^H i girls, tiny hats, dresses, baby sweaters, booties, and ^H1 r (hem, on a makeshift clothesline, were quilted wall ^Hf1 with appliqued pictures prominently pieced in a ^H|" iHiring a sunbonnet and hanging out her wash featured ^Hl >ll item of clothing hanging free, attached only at the ^i i So clever. ^Ht lit- 'Sundries' part of the sign out front are my things," ^Hlniil, laughing. ^H'"" '" Auntie isn't Amish," Mary Jane spoke up. pW"i ,,/' Melissa said, playing along. "But if she were Amish, il-.- l.,u?" I II" sign might just say Amish Store. Ain't so, Mama?" I Mi iheth nodded with a smile, straightening a pile of table - I(tlli i lien moved to the area where faceless dolls were lined B in. i iiht'lf. "My youngest sister, Emma, makes these." I I i^ over to look at the cute little dolls, Melissa noticed Mulx boy dolls had tiny suspenders and black felt hats. ^HT look tedious to make." ^B1 ' > my, are they ever," Elizabeth said. "I don't see how ^Hix iloes it, wprkin' all day long on 'em." ^B:|" must h*ave good eyes," Lela added. "I'd sure hate to wf/f\ Tool with such wee things." 1 l H v Jane came over for a closer look at the dolls' clothing. I i-iiinvcd a hat from the boy doll's head and, inspecting it ji 1 v Hiucl, "I think I could prob'ly sew up a hat like this biut'tliiy," I "Juli, someday you will, dear," Elizabeth agreed. iblu'ii then several cars pulled into the barnyard. Melissa felt ^Hl She finished giving the correct phone number. I riiliiii) (he address." t I emu told him, then paused. "I was followed, but I lost Hi' man exhaled loudly. "We've got to get you out of 11- . , I'm safe here." > i'Mi, your life may be " I I. I( my husband behind because you insisted I flee. You H inMWcr my questions then, so now I'm asking again Hl> I I have to leave my home?" I -.in imperative you leave, Melissa. By your own admisHv< thing was horribly wrong. Doom was palpable. She heard 'i voice. i .tomach knotted up. She leaned hard on the counter, h\em with worry, waiting for her world to come to a corni ml. "It's about Ryan, isn't it?" she said at last. ' In* agent ignored her. "We can be at your location within nitules." I'lio truth," she said simply with resignation. "I must know in my husband." I i*i rilying images swept through her mind. She recoiled in i, The room began spinning like a time capsule. She was jkiii, black-and-white police cars were flashing in front of iv'h little house. A woman in a blue uniform gently but / nut her down, telling her that her father had gone to il, What do you mean? I just saw him this morning. Daddymad me off at school. . . . 160 The nightmare was happening again. She felt, for a momcnl, Mrs. Browning's loving arms about her, soothing her. "There,there, dearie, I'm here. Your Mrs. Browning will see to you. ..." See to you . . . She shivered, thinking of the precious woman. But Mt% , Browning wasn't here to pick up the pieces of her life this tim . Angrily, Melissa shook her head. Hot tears spilled down h(MM face. She felt she might erupt with rage. You told me Ryan would be safe! She directed her thought In the FBI agent. Teeth clenched, anticipating the worst, she waited for 11 it* agent to continue. When he spoke again, his voice was sofleffil gentler, as if attempting to console her. "Melissa ... I have sornfl upsetting news. It's about your husband, Ryan James. ..." 161'-rua- ^ 'I AS HER WITNESS, Lela did not wish to eavesdrop ^^H|i l>. ;,i's phone conversation. Yet she had heard bits and ^^H|. -UKI she was greatly troubled. Could it be that Melissa's pn^iiM I was in danger? She refused to think the worst, though H , .nii>ry words echoed through the house "I must know H my husband. . . ." H i ^Juw Mellie was venting her anger into the telephone, shoutH| | whoever was on the line. Then a period of calm followed. ^MUii overtook the place. ^^Hhftt came weeping. "No . . . no, it can't be. . . ." Mellie's ^^Hciuricd into the small living room. "You must be wrong." ^^^K)t knowing what to say or do, Lela prayed silently. Lord, ^^^| htdp Melissa with whatever it is . . . let me be a comfort. ^^Huidcnly, she heard Melissa shout into the phone, "I don't HPPe you! Just leave me alone!" Abruptly, she returned the Him"' to its cradle. H Worried, Lela rose from her chair. She went to the kitchen UP Inn' the girl was sobbing inconsolably. "Mellie?" she whis- ..I, Milking eye contact with her, Melissa stammered through In i trurs, "I need to get my car. I have to leave." "Mure, Mellie, but are you . . . will you be all right?" 162 Melissa shook her head. "Nothing's ever going to be all riyhi again." Picking up the phone, Lela quickly dialed the number Im Thaddeus King. Meanwhile, Melissa rushed upstairs, still wop ing. Thankfully, Elizabeth answered on the second ring. I .< I > told her sister that Melissa would be over soon to get her < ,u She hung up just as Melissa reached the entryway with her ov< i night case, fumbling through her purse. Approaching her, ]..i l.i prayed silently for divine guidance, observing Melissa's obviou frustration. Turning to face her, with plaintive eyes, Melissa said, "I forget how much I owe you." "Oh . . . well, it's thirty dollars per night. You've been Iu-m three nights total." Melissa shuffled through a number of bills in her wallet more money than Lela had seen in a long time handing ova five twenties. "This should cover it. Keep the change." Meekly, she received the money. "Can I help you in ;inv way?" Lela asked, her heart going out to the disturbed woman Tears welled up, and Melissa's lip quivered as she shook lu-i head no. She juggled her overnight case and purse and heaclo I for the door, then stopped abruptly, as if someone had spoken her name, calling her back. Lela's own tears kept her from seeing clearly, yet she w.n hoping, perhaps, that the poor thing had changed her mind. Oh, more than anything, she wanted to help. Melissa inched forward, making another attempt to exit. Yd once again she halted. Sighing ever so deeply, she set her over night case down with some degree of resignation. Hugging herself, she seemed to stare past the door. Her expression changed from fear to grief. A pallor descended over her. "I can't go back, Can't ever go back," she whispered. Seizing the opportunity, Lela reached out a hand. "Pleaaf stay longer, Mellie ... as long as you like." The young woman turned, her face a contortion of pain and 163i T II A R Y i I..gin did what she knew best she opened her arms to Hj houI, and Melissa fell into them, sobbing without i liinc Melissa said she was tired and needed to lie i .. I ;tleep some tea for you to take to your room?" Lela * declined, desperation on her face. She made her way pa, slowly, methodically, lost in her anguish. I mi iking it wise to follow closely, Lela kept an eye on MeM I he young woman went to the spare room, where she I InV on the bed, breathing heavily. nil, Ryan," whispered Mellie again and again. "Not you, (pli pulled up the handmade quilt at the foot of the bed, H i over Mellie's quivering body. The swollen red eyelids |i I, shutting out the world. * > liing over Mellie just now, Lela was reminded of the lu-'d Ktood silently near the beds of her sleeping nieces i hews. As if her presence were somehow consoling, ii he took no pride in it. !> H it seemed Melissa's breathing had slowed to a steadier l.i Felt the-Lord prompting her to pray. She reached down hi ln*d Melissa's arm lightly. Father in heaven, please corn- " your dear one. Enfold her in your loving arms, for Jesus' Wii.'n, ' I > came at last. Lela left the room. She must phone Eliz- I1 nhl quick, let her know that Melissa would not be needri ' .ir. Not just yet. ' ' Kidically throughout the afternoon, Lela checked in on 11' I, but Melissa, sleeping soundly, did not stir once. It mil past five o'clock when Lela made another round past 164 the spare room. She found Melissa sitting at the edge of the bed, looking a bit groggy, a sad, lost look in her eyes. "May I get some tea for you now?" she asked, tapping I lie door that stood slightly ajar. Attempting a weak smile perhaps trying to acknowk'ilr.i Lela's generosity Melissa's face was stony white. "I shoiiU go," she said blankly, "back to Connecticut." Lela was rilled with dismay. Melissa was in no shape to cli i> > any distance, much less all that way. "I thought you said you could never return." Melissa looked up at her, eyes glistening anew. "You've W< <> so kind to me, Lela. It wouldn't be right for me to stay longvi "Well, why not?" Melissa's eyes lowered. "My life's in danger. I can't put ymi in jeopardy. If I stay ... he might find me." "Who will?" Lela was stunned by Melissa's admission. l\ i haps, though, the young woman was just confused. Lela sat mi the bed, turning her gaze back to Melissa. "Does someone w.mi to hurt you?" Nodding, Melissa leaned her head into her fists, beginning to cry. "Does that person know where you are?" she probed genilv "I don't see how . . . but it's still too dangerous." "I believe God will keep you safe here, Mellie. He is big! mi than the evil around us," Lela said. "Our help cometh from 111< Lord," she whispered. Melissa looked doubtful. "Can God stop bullets?" Lela's breath caught in her throat. What sort of trouble /, Melissa in anyhow? she thought, not letting on. Bravely sl>< smiled. "Are you in some kind of trouble . . . with the law, I mean?" Melissa smiled crookedly. "No." "Should we call the police?" "They'll do nothing. And he'd find me for sure." "You'll be all right here till you decide what to do. We'll trust in the Lord." 165 *re you willing to take the chance?" nil I he assurance rise up in her. "Truth is, I've seen In? working power of God in this community." q I lintless. "Were you able to sleep much at all?" she ! i -'.ink so." it would you like to eat?" / some juice, thanks." headed downstairs to fix breakfast. Maybe if Melissa i lie food cooking, her nose would prod her stomach. i"i|>ortant Jtiat the girl keep up her strength. Especially emotionally overwrought. "> mg batter into her waffle iron, she kept an eye on the ni|jr and bacon sizzling. She set the table, placing a small I flowers in a vase for the centerpiece. Iii'ii the table was ready, she heard footsteps on the stair -n imlit a glimpse of Melissa coming through the kitchen, i>!', loward the sun porch. "It's another nice day," she called 'Go ahead, have yourself a look round the garden." IrlniNa obliged and went outside. Lela could see her looking vn the pastureland to the east. She seemed motionless, l"i lorn. Ill-1 a time Lela carried a tray of freshly squeezed orange 166 juice outside, offering some to Melissa, who accepted it grpj ciously. "This may help to make you feel better," Lela saidJ hoping it would. 1 Their eyes met. "You remind me so much of. . ." 1 "Who?" Lela asked, curious to know. I "My best friend . . . Mrs. Browning." m Lela was glad to see Melissa coming out of her shell a b "Did you know each other from school?" "No, she was lots older. She took care of me after ..." Shi paused as tears filled her eyes. "My friend was like a mother jjfl me." 1 "Where is she now?" I Melissa bit her lip. "I haven't seen Mrs. Browning in ytvaf(H I used to talk to her about everything. I miss her so much." "Some people say I'm a good listener." I Melissa nodded, her face drawn. "I know you are." a "I don't mean to pry, but if you feel like talking, I'm lielB for you. All right?" 1 The poor thing looked away, out toward the distant horizojB "I wouldn't even know where to begin," she said, her voice low "I don't even know who I am anymore. I've lost my identijB . . . and my husband in the same lifetime. Everything importaM to me is gone. ..." Her voice trailed off and her shoulders shoflH with fresh waves of grief. Lela was stunned, allowing her guest to sob out her puiffl She wished she might comfort the poor girl, but she was unsuffl of what to do, considering Melissa's secrecy. 1 After a time she headed back into the house to check on tha breakfast in the warming oven. Eventually Melissa followed ana sat at the table, preoccupied as she reached for her cloth napkiB and placed it solemnly in her lap. I Lela served up eggs and bacon, along with the waffleB "Sometimes when I need solitude, I take long walks," she saifl "There's a beautiful place almost a mile from here. I call it rtU sanctuary, but it's not mine, really. Still, I can go and sit on thl banks of the Gonestoga River and talk to the Lord." 1 167 j' ie in it?" Melissa asked. I' viin rome in by way of Hunsecker Mill Bridge?" | inl the covered bridge?" | ihtU'n the one. Sometime, we'll go for a walk there." I in Meemed remotely interested. "I saw the bridge by ) 'i IhhI Friday evening." \< 'Mighty peaceful and lovely with the willows along the j I >'Ir udded. I I now that feeling of tranquility." Melissa had a faraway I1 Ui*t eyes. "I had a place something like that, too, when 'i I, Actually, it was Mrs. Browning's flower garden, the I kyurd of the house." j i a'iih cautious, didn't want to pry into Melissa's past I1 i u'i mission. "Tell me about your best friend, if I may Ijtt, Browning . . ." Melissa began wistfully. "I was seven Hj when my father, a widower, announced we were going Prto a small town in Colorado," she began. "It's hard to id i' much about that time of my life, I was so young, but I "" in her the overall feeling I had one of confusion. Why lii'Uv have to take us away from everything we knew and I -nit silently, eager for Mellie to continue. \h difficult, relocating so hurriedly. And there was a ti! of urgency." She sighed, leaning back in the chair, its and pieces of her little-girl fears. "My father never " I the reason for the sudden change in our location. We I )enver the next night, leaving everything we owned I 11 our home in Laguna Beach, California, except for a < hi^ch of summer clothes and two of my favorite stuffed 1 My father said we could buy 'all new things' at our i ins1," I- *' strange." > -, but Daddy and I had each other. In a few short weeks, |til'-r i friends in the world." The first time she'd met the British woman, Melissa and In i father were choosing roses for the backyard at Algoma's Nui> ery, a small garden center on the outskirts of town. Mrs. Brown ing was also there, purchasing bedding plants. "Welcome Ll a man, knocked on their door bearing gifts strawberry short bread and a box of chocolates. They were invited inside to chal, and from then on, Mellie was allowed to spend time with thl charming couple. 169 > their move, her father had been hesitant to let Mellie niyht. Here, in Palmer Lake, he seemed to trust people 1'ilHntly. Especially Mrs. Browning. And Mellie was HlNt* their neighbor was both fun and creative. Mellie I I hill her deceased mother might've had similar qualiigh her father was reluctant to talk of his childhood ijjf .iil't now passed away. ^Hky ttlways had time for me. . . . ^^WiH i-Hpecially fond of their after-supper hours. Curling ^^B her lather, Mellie listened intently as he read aloud, ^^Hg I'roin Heidi to the classic fairy tales. Sometimes they ^^Mivoiitc videos, always together. ^^|y Ki'iiton was outspokenly opposed to the violence so ^^'Icu'i! up on television. Having only one TV in the ^^nil n closely monitored one at that, kept Mellie some^^Htnvd during her primary grades. B^rl'in'sday, the week after school was out for the summer, I I In go to the zoo. The day was exceptionally bright R n lor early June. P . ich zoo?" Daddy asked. |'i i n Cheyenne Mountain Zoo best." She explained, in her I I fashion, that the walkways were steep and "very exit vteandeijng pathways, interspersed with flowers and fof -ujue to**Colorado, led them through the aviary, lion I >nd outdoor bear exhibit. "Best of all, there's a great big I < house." The tiniest monkeys always made her giggle. Til ' I the way they'd swing about, then turn and look down, lining and mischievous, as if performing for her alone. | i he drop of a hat, Daddy took her off to the zoo. She i 11 iilized at that time just how financially well off they were, fttrt remained, on a typical day her father rarely left the i- Occasionally, he did "run a few errands," but Mellie i knew precisely where his office was or if he even had one. 11 ul' his supposed work took place at home, over the teleIt And after school, when she arrived eager to talk about Hy, he was always there, waiting with warm eyes and smile. 170 David Lewi There were frequent visits to the Brownings' home, as well Mellie especially liked to wander about in the vast gardens I >r yond the house, thinking surely the place was much like, even patterned after, the "real" secret garden in the world of Mmy Lennox and Misselthwaite Manor. "Do you know the book?" she asked Mrs. Browning one diiv while the two of them weeded the small-blossomed roses Mi Browning called her "Joseph's Coat" masterpieces. Tricolor.I they were low growing, similar to a small bush, their red, orani: and pink petals forming as sprays or clusters. "Why, of course I do." Mrs. Browning, it turned out, li.nl made a trip with her sister to see the rose garden in Mayth.nu Hall, Kent, England the source for the fictitious one, wlu-i. the author lived during the late 1800s. Just as the garden in ih. story had a hidden entrance with a low arch and a wooden doi > the real-life garden did as well. "I adored the book The Set 1.1 Garden, and I don't know of anyone who should say differently Books, flowers, and outdoors in general became the attach ment by which the twosome explored the world and their rcl.i tionship. By the beginning of third grade, Mellie liked to thin I of her neighbor as a relative of some kind. An aunt, perh;i|> But when she'd gotten up her nerve to inform Mrs. Brownim of her hope, the woman gently chided her, saying they were "lie best of friends, yes," but Mellie shouldn't think of her as moi< than that. Saddened for a day, Mellie sought out her father for advii < on the matter. "She's as close as any relative might be," sli< insisted, thinking of Nana Clark, whom she hadn't seen in tin longest time. "So why won't Mrs. Browning let me call ha auntie r Daddy was kind, understanding. "The truth is Mrs. Brown ing is your friend." He paused, looking over his glasses as In lowered his newspaper. "Isn't she?" Mellie agreed. "My best friend." "Well, then, I'd say you have more than a pretend relative in our neighbor." 171 MIihI do you mean?" iy that someone is your friend is a wonderful thing." ! i went on to explain that not just anyone might have "iU bestowed on them. He said that relatives were usu- i lioHcn, only inherited, "except, of course, in the case i 11'him." But the truth of the matter was that her father i hi the beauty of true friendship. "If you find one or friends in a lifetime, that is all a person needs." 'iptly, she shared her father's opinion with Mrs. Browi > Ma id she couldn't agree more, and that was that. Mellie Hitiwning were friends a higher calling than any corni mi cousin. They were gardeners and bookworms, too, WilH wrong with that? if her also liked to help their neighbors by working in .vning's gardens, due to the fact that Mr. Browning's 't'times gave him considerable trouble. The most and ilid do was dig with a shovel bending over and weed- lefinitely out of the question. often volunteered her father's services, helping Mrs. , who wasn't getting any younger. Her father liked to rhymes about flowers, especially roses, as he worked. ime somewhat of a game for the three of them. He | chanting the first line of the rhyme, and Mellie would | ' xt, and so on. 1 imes her father would see who could name the author m uliir quotation, including Mrs. Browning in the con- 1 m > knows this one?" Daddy might say, eyes gleaming. ii no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being 1 llu* didn't have to think for long. The saying was one of favorites. "Robert Louis Stevenson," she announced, Akknow. Hptr forget it, Mellie," Daddy said, nodding his head and |t her with all the love in his eyes. H they were happy those first few years. Happy if it 172Beverly & David Lewis j meant a young girl could run down the street and spend tinm] learning the names of flowers with a fifty-year-old Biilinlij woman and her ailing husband. Happy if it meant goini.; lul the library in nearby Colorado Springs, hoarding fiction boom by the dozens, reading aloud to either Daddy or Mrs. Browiuiijl whenever skies were gray or clouds surrendered rain. Truly,! happiness was growing up under the cautious eye of an attenlivfl parent, someone interested in every minute detail of her life. Hull their cozy paradise was soon to be shattered. I 1721731 \Y WAS NOT unlike any other school day. Daddy I nit breakfast and drove her to the Montessori School a> blocks away. He always took her and dropped her titUt the weather. .1 wave and a smile he called after her, "I'll miss you, /on this afternoon," she called back. ireful." At every parting, he offered her a warning. The ig in her thoughts. They had become his trademark, i never fjSrget. . . . lidn't think much of it when two police officers arrived iliernoon recess. When they came in search other, being I I iy the principal, she began to feel frightened. Never l' ill she encountered such serious-looking folk. of the officers was a lady with blond hair and gentle something's happened, Melissa," she said, squatting We're here to take you home." my, she followed them into the school building, gath- luir things, and headed toward the squad car. Her class- re wide-eyed as she left, and she felt as if everyone was >>'., which made her very nervous. She had not been a lio drew much attention to herself. She preferred to be 174 left alone, always working independently of others, studying m her own fast pace. Today, being ushered out of the school U police unnerved her. She had no idea what was ahead. Fear gripped her as they drove down the familiar street .nul neared her house, which was now surrounded by police cars A long yellow strip encircled the property, but she did not sec I in father. And the squad car did not stop and let her out. InstiM'l, the policewoman said they were "going to see Mrs. Brownint1. "Where's my daddy?" she asked, starting to cry. "Why c;m'i I go home?" There was no answer, not at that moment. But soon, alI dm soon, she discovered the truth. Mrs. Browning met her at the door, gathering her into In i arms. "My dear, dear Mellie" was all she said. A short time later, a lady a social worker in a navy suit .11 rived at Mrs. Browning's house. She was accompanied by a polii man, also wearing a dark suit. The woman sat with her on the sol ' patting Melissa's hand, which made the little girl very afraid "Where's my daddy?" she asked. "There's been an accident," the woman said slowly, puttiiif an arm around Mellie's shoulder. "Your father's gone I" heaven." "Daddy's dead?" She was overcome with grief. "How Why?" she cried. No words offered her comfort. She had need of answers. But so did the social worker, it seemed. After the inili.il revelation that Daddy had indeed died, the woman quizzed In -1 about her father. She was shown several pictures of men whili the man in a suit stood in Mrs. Browning's doorway, observing "I've never seen any of them," she stammered through hi-i tears. "And I don't know where Daddy works or anything aboui what you're asking." Mrs. Browning sat nearby, a worried expression on her fkci. \ At one point she cut in, asking if the little girl couldn't be al j lowed to grieve for her father "alone and in private." j 175 I nciii! worker glanced over at the man. "Are we finished I >r dnki-n bond." Grandpa and Nana Clark were not considered KiHii because of health and other concerns of aging. |i*ilu* continued her education at the private school, with lli< mi her lather's life insurance policy. But she kept to herself 11. hi ever. The other girls treated her differently; some of the |i i i | ii-ied rumors on the playground. One of those rumors she | i til lunch one day. "Mellie Keaton's dad was murdered." j Mnled to shout back at the boy, who had no business I1 Hiich horrid things. But she felt helpless to say a word. I11 (11 was, Daddy was dead, but she didn't know, not for sure, hftt I happened to end his life. She stayed awake at night wonjj huw it could be that her father had died "accidentally." 'i I of accident had killed a grown man in his own home? jl>. i inly way to avoid the cruel talk by her classmates was to ni iM be ill on occasion, and for several mornings in a row, she I > hool. Mrs. Browning never questioned Mellie's corn|o >l headaches or stomachaches. Though her temperature |m viih usually normal, Mrs. Browning seemed to understand. [ i 'flit some days being read to, enjoying homemade soups I i< .uul in general, being looked after with great compassion. I 11 ways wondered how the Good Lord would answer my |t my yearnings for a child," Mrs. Browning confided one [In n Mellie was suffering a throbbing headache. [..mi did?" 176& Dayid Lewis i "Oh, most certainly, dear." Mrs. Browning's smile stretched : across her face. "You are the splendid answer to any wom;ui' | heart's desire." ; Daddy had to die so Mrs. Browning could have a daughter, nIih ; thought innocently. How strange. j Later that week Mr. Browning said that he, too, "was vn y I glad to have the honor of helping Mrs. Browning raise our gii I " | So Melissa felt thoroughly loved and wanted, thanking G< u I J if there was one for allowing her to live with such fine, corn| >,m = j sionate folk. "Hickory, dickory, rose; the bug crawled up the stem," n\\e chanted. "The rose looked down and she did frown . . . hickory, dick ory, rose," Mrs. Browning finished the silly verse. Mellie burst into laughter, recalling the days when her f;il In i used to make up nonsense rhymes as they worked in the ganli-n together. On various occasions she had considered calling her guarili.m by the name of "Mother," but with her parents deceased, y.Uecouldn't bring herself to do so. Melissa had always thought of Mi > Browning as a truly dear friend. And, as Daddy had often s;ml, "one or two close friends in a lifetime, that is all a person need1: " Months turned to years, and her emotional recovery w.m slow. She made friends with more classmates, groping through life, learning to feel confident again. But her closest ties were t the Brownings and the life they had crafted for her. Hours wiTi spent in the gardens behind the house, hours of deep thought 4 and creativity. She liked to take her sketch pad and pencils mid -| sit near the bed of ivory roses, missing Daddy, sometimes weep ing. She threw herself into her drawings, illustrating her fathei 'n beloved roses, perfecting her drafts as she worked on them, chin ing, reworking, and modifying during all her free moments. s 177 Hhh uIho enjoyed the lake near the train tracks in town, f tun I her German friend, Howard Breit, her first highKivlnt'nd, liked to feed the ducks. He was handsome, lit ryi*n and a gentle spirit. They strolled around the lake I, \4i*llie doing most of the talking. Compared to other I Bge, I toward was shy. He spoke with a heavy accent, clothes, while always clean, were never brand name. I won his own person, though reserved. Melissa had beI him because he was a newcomer to the community and riu to fit in, especially at school. She knew that feeling wHI. So their friendship blossomed, niii do you want to do when you grow up?" she asked Inulime day, their second year as friends, liln't know offhand, but he gave her his answer in time, while they tossed bread crumbs to one particularly ramUN cluck, he finally said, "I want to work at a job that loin I money." m'vv excellent in math, right? You could become a I Melissa offered. mrd chuckled. "Yeah, I like numbers, especially with igjns in front of them." ti can help me with my algebra. Okay with you?" smiled, his .eyes dancing. "Thought you'd never ask." ilie wouldn't have thought anything was amiss with i. He was the nicest boy she'd ever known. He truly i her, didn't he? Even took her home to meet his sister purents, went with them to Denver several times to a lo see the Broncos at Mile-High Stadium, and once, out i iwn at the Village Inn in Monument, a few miles away, dsiy, while studying at the library, Howard fixed her with > i gaze. "You never talk about your father," he remarked. WHH silent, not prepared for the question. >w did he die?" Howard persisted. I 1.11 her not talk about it," she said abruptly. Howard hint, and she felt guilty. 178 Later, on the walk home, she tried to smooth things nv. i "I'm sorry ... I honestly don't know how my father died." Howard looked at her as if eager to pursue the topic. "Atthe rumors true?" She stared at the ground. "What are people saying, exact I v "That your dad was hooked up with the mob." She was stunned. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heai < I But Howard wouldn't quit. He continued to pry, until :;li> broke into tears. When they arrived at the Browning home, she left him < >< the front lawn, running up the steps and into the house. (>!> couldn't bear to look back. Why had Howard taken this sudtli >. interest in the most painful part of her life? Later that week Howard called to apologize. Gladly, she Im gave him, even invited him for dinner on the weekend. Is/I t > Browning cooked an authentic German meal of onion soup .m gratin, beef roladen, potato balls, butter twist rolls, and Bhu I Forest cake for dessert. During the meal, things seemed normal again, until HowhuI excused himself to the rest room. When he was gone for more tli.ni a few minutes, Melissa began to wonder. She found the bathroom door wide open and no Howard. Down the hall, she pushed open her bedroom door only to discover her friend digging through In i desk drawers. "Looking for something?" she demanded. Howard turned, startled. Caught red-handed. "I think you'd better leave," she said angrily. Without a single word of explanation, Howard fled down the hallway and out the door. While she continued to see him at school, she never spoke to him again. With Howard out ul , her life, she just assumed the strange occurrences would ceatm, jj But she was wrong. 1 At one point Mr. Browning realized that some of his ninil ' was missing, especially various financial statements. He bey.m to watch the street more closely. One day he discovered Howai 11 Breit poking grimy fingers into the mailbox. Mr. Brownini1. 179 I i Hi the boy, but Howard ran off. Frustrated, he called in temdLMice but got only an answering machine, limriliutely he reported the stolen mail to the police. In the Hit Ihiv was threatened with a five-hundred-dollar fine. But fill wtin never returned. HLVt'iv next month Mellie was shocked when their trash Hbtm iibout the yard, as if someone had been searching Pit. "Must be your Howard," Mr. Browning quipped. I1 ' -mil was not amused. jj .' i ml ly Howard dropped out of school, and Melissa never | igiiin, But even more troubling things began to happen. j i iy of her driver's test, after sealing her chance of acquir- 11 t-r's license on her sixteenth birthday, she noticed a man Liiii; her from the town of Monument to Palmer Lake. Hit uik her senior year, she often felt she was being watched, pllv when she headed for her car after school. Sometimes j Icied if she was being followed as she drove home. At j hulked up the tension to the lingering creepiness she'd j uJHociate with Howard Breit. I' !ling to trust a new relationship with any of the boys tinil, she decided she wasn't going to miss out on her own | "I .el's go together ... in a group," she suggested to three Fgii Ih who ^yere also without dates. mr*v danced and laughed the night away. But coming home [in die wee hours she felt she was being followed again. 111. I. of her neck broke out in a cold sweat, and she wished In- li/I offered to drop off the others. On the drive back to i-> vnings' little home, she felt vulnerable and alone. - ly making her way down the narrow road, she thought U 11 nig the other car by pulling into another residence. See Jin' driver might do. Not feeling particularly courageous, killrd up in front of her father's former rental house the m home she and Daddy had lived in for such a short time, hritit leaped up when she realized that the car had pulled mind her and was parked at the curb. 180B E Y l y 4 David Lei Not thinking, she gunned her car forward, hightailing < down the street, so frightened was she. Her need for safely I*-1'1 led the stalker to her very door. She burst into tears when -I.. was safe at last, trying to make sense of it to dear Mrs. Mining. "Someone's after me!" "Oh, honey, not in this town. More than likely the (liiVfjj was a bit soused, just trying to find his way home from I ha tavern, that's all. No, no, you're perfectly safe here. No need fm worry." Mrs. Browning seemed so sure of it that Mellie ili missed the night's events as a figment of her own imagination After all, she was quite tired, her head filled with the music iiml the handsome tuxedoed boys. Maybe Mrs. Browning was riyjii There was nothing to worry about at all. Emery Keaton had set aside money for college in a tru i fund for Melissa. After high school graduation in the fall, MdInbid a fond but sad farewell to the Brownings, having enrolJi I in the Rocky Mountain School of Art in Denver. There she Im-i herself in the world of figure drawing, acrylic and watercnlm painting, her greatest passion being landscapes and still life. Tinpeculiar incidents of the past years faded as she poured hct'Mi-ll into study, hoping to have her own art studio and gallery in il. future, as both Nana Clark and Mrs. Browning had encounuv i her to do. Nana, more recently in letters and phone calls. "Yum grandfather and I are so proud of you, Mellie. Please keep m touch," Nana often said before hanging up. "We love you." Love . . . Where did love ever get you? Where did it lead . . . but in heartache? In suffering the death of both her mother and father, and .h such an impressionable age, she had lost a chunk of hersi'll What did she have to give another person when half her hem I was buried six feet under? 181K^&nwZe*' I'll** 11 IK EVENING OF March twenty-first, during her final t)ri at the art school, Melissa received a phone call. She lighted to hear Mrs. Browning's voice, but her spirits HB| lank when she was told the sad news. "Mr. Browning ^^d away just this afternoon, God rest him. I hated to PWo late in the day " I no, I'm glad you did." I n'ried that you might not sleep, Mellie." 1 ; t sleepy" she said, fighting back tears. "I'm on my |i .)c" She promptly left, and in less than forty-five I .vus turning into the driveway. I Browning was glad to have her; Mellie was a comfort, I pcared. Together they met with the funeral director to I1 local memorial service. Mrs. Browning held up amaziWrll, but then she had always exhibited a cheerful spirit midst of trying times one of the reasons Mellie was n Id her in the very beginning. ||i. i the burial, it took several days to answer all the sym- I ii ib and letters, thanking various friends and the Brown - 1=1 Hives for flower sprays and other remembrances. Mellie II .i.l to help with that particular chore, and while she was 1 In* also cleaned the little house from top to bottom, even 182 rearra g ^^ some of the furniture and sorting through Mi .^'s clothing and personal effects for donation to ;i ' '! ^.,Mngs charity. Folks were generous with their coii'l- en \/r' r *n *n *n home-cooked meals. ^a wondered what Mrs. Browning would do ii" ^ ^ be all right here alone?" she asked, preparing to rein' to Denver v , i , , _~ the next day. Ml be fine. Don't you worry one lick about me. I h.r i ^ * ms in spring and my books in winter." I .^^ou sure?" 1 "^lutely" came the firm reply. "I have my friends, tc)(l *hem. They'll look in on me." Mrs. Browning nuildfl ' though the sheen in her eye gave her away. 1 xOnvinced she should leave her second mother, nfl s this way Mellie promised to check in, even sptfif in Palmer Lake. Which she did, nearly every weeksJ until sumtk i i i Mier break. \u "^ the day after graduation from art college. She wul ^ . ^ing, hauling clothes and books and things out to h#f ^die-aged man approached her, came right up to linf apartment a stePs, e ^ou Melissa Keaton?" He held up his badge biiclltfi m: Galia, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation,"! ^Jf n%ded. "Yes ... I'm Melissa." I ^oes the FBI want with me? At first she was start lea ^y jogged a little. The man seemed familiar, but, n ' ^re she studied him, the less she was sure. "Mil Galia? 1 turn, . about your f| *e Galia. I'd like to talk with you . . . about your ft ther. nher?" Melissa said, confused, then gestured towsf her apartm , T , . . , c Atot door. Let s go inside. - 183 " Mt In .1 i hair facing her on the couch and began to weave lijwini' tale. He told her everything, starting with her HP identity. The news struck her like an actual physical hmuI that her father had been a high level "accountant" (tdii/.cd crime group. I iind reeled. So . . . the rumors were all true. Her beloved f ciiminal. | iiu* point, he turned informant," Galia continued. | i help of the FBI, both of you had to be protected, | vuy under the Witness Protection Program." ^ikkji'ii?" Her vague memory of their quick escape to Pal- ^Hwere both given new identities." ^^Kl2 name isn't Keaton? |^mr father wanted out, but once a gangster, always a gangI ' Agent said with a sigh. He went on to share informa| it her background, her life in Laguna Beach, even 1 I "i nit her ailing mother, who was "completely unaware I I. > i h bund' s wrongful activity.'' In I (lien the agent got to the point. He studied her, eyes I' I, "Just before he fled, your father stole eighty million * i.id it wired to a secret account. He didn't even tell us about -the money. And, unfortunately, after he testi- .iM found and killed. His death may have been an ac- lic may have collapsed under severe questioning niiiiK the money. There was evidence of torture. Either ne they found him, his people wouldn't have let him in lr*a pondered this, speechless. She hugged herself, feel- l> .11.-, empty. She simply could not fathom such a horrible I In* was saddened anew. hIm'h expression was empathetic. "I'm deeply sorry about in her." I ulw.iys wondered . . ." She fought the tears. "I never knew Prtd.lv died." 184& Dayid Lewis He sighed, as if reluctant to continue. "The money wiM never recovered. Overnight, eighty mil vanished into thin ail,'1 "Eighty million dollars?" They had lived like anyone < . sional ice cream treats. Except for her private school instriu i> and the fact that her father was often at home, she never thou* i< of them as more than middle-income folk. "This is news to me," she managed, her voice soundim- i away, even to her own ears. "I have no idea. There were st strange things going on several years ago." She rememln-i'-i Howard's dishonesty, the mail incident followed by the li.i i episode. She told the agent about the day of her driver's tesi .n i the night of her prom how a man had followed her both tin m "He scared the living daylights out of me!" Galia shook his head with disgust. "The kid was prohiM paid to snoop around. These are evil people, Melissa. Yom I ther was a part of them, I hate to say. We have reason to be 11 < they are presently on your trail. That's partly why I'm here i day. This issue must be settled, once and for all, not only ! your safety, but also because, rightfully, that money belong* i > the U.S. government. Eighty million would go a long way I" ward efforts to eliminate organized crime." "Are you saying that you think / know where the mon> is?" she asked. Galia nodded. "Your father was a smart man. There's > . question in our minds he would have made provision for 11" money to be salvaged in the event of his demise." Her father may have been smart but apparently not enourl' to protect his own life. She was aware only of monies that hi I been earmarked for her schooling, though a far cry from eighi million dollars. And she told him so. "Think hard about it, Melissa. As long as the money is mi> ing, your life is in danger." He put his note pad away and to>'l out his business card. "I'll visit you again tomorrow. Meanwhilt 185 number. Call me if something comes up. The slightest be helpful." i llif agent started for the door, something occurred to v ilo you know the mob hasn't already recovered the I ( ialia smiled. "Good question. I'm afraid I can't anilircctly. But we know for sure they have not. That's my for now." looking gentleman, wearing a black pinstripe suit, stood be I..,, her, similar in appearance to the previous man in both demi'unflj and attire. When he had displayed his badge with the 11111 "Agent Walsh" in plain view, she invited him inside, when* n questioned her about "Agent Galia." This is like a sitcom, she thought. Only too ridiculous. The agent pulled out a photo and showed it to her. "In lh| the man?" "Yes," she breathed, feeling a pang of alarm. "That's (5iili.> "His real name is Ivanov," Walsh replied. "He's been > rested before and brought to trial, but nothing sticks. It api> -... you may be in grave danger, Miss Keaton. I've been given .< < thorization to reveal the complete story regarding your la I In > Typically, we would never confirm the existence of an inform m . . . even to his own family." When Agent Walsh described her father's involvement wn I the mob, all the details were the same everything except ! the money. He said nothing at all about the eighty million case against the organized crime group collapsed, and there wi 1 no additional witnesses to provide the evidence needed. Furl I u investigation conducted through the years has been fruitier,' 187 !lNt ivcd, amazed at the information. "So without an 'inI' thru* was no case?" tlb nodded. "That's how Ivanov operates. Those he can't ^^fnm i/.cs. Those he can't frighten, he eliminates. After ^^m'n li nhiver ran up her back. II (tin find Ivanov, we'll arrest him and try him with | uony. Can you locate his so-called business card?" 11 Mi ten minutes she found the imposter's phone number. 1 tilnh dialed the number on his own cell phone and I i I K-nvertiotel. The man had already checked out. In- I 'hi* load had vanished. |' II have to wait . . . watch for him. We can set you up ( ly, try to lure him out again." ( Kit your bait," she broke in firmly. She thought of Mrs. j utid her grandparents. How would they feel if she, I happened to die from an "accident"? Hiding out hadn't I1 !< r lather in the end. Ivanov had found him. Now they * hi rc she was. . . . \\ need your testimony, Miss Keaton. We have a chance I i' ilit* man who killed your father." "> worry, but you don't seem to protect your informants 188 Di v i d Lewi "Miss Keaton " "And nothing will bring my father back," she replied cold I Walsh glanced at the floor, shaking his head as frown Imwrinkled his brow. "You have no idea who or what you're * I. .' ing with just how treacherous these people can be. If Iv.n. finds you again ..." His voice trailed away. "You mean that I might end up like Daddy," she said > , cusingly. j The agent looked embarrassed. "If he thinks you kn j something about the eighty million more specifically, wli> it's hidden ..." Walsh seemed at a loss for words. "Melissa, if you wi. help us, we can't force you," he continued. "Off the record > you wish to be safe, your best bet is to find a way to drop -m the planet. Go where you can't be found." He offered his personal contact number. "If you change y mind ..." She accepted his card. "Will they bother my friend, Mi Browning, my legal guardian?" Hesitating, Walsh said, "I seriously doubt it. These giivn operate in the shadows." That was some comfort. But only a little. She contacted a private investigator, doing exactly as the I' in agent had advised. The PI, in turn, gave her a quick lesson <"< the art of disappearance: Find someone who has died and .1 sume their identity. Melissa recalled an acquaintance at the art institute wlm sister had died at a very young age. The deceased girl's n;ii>" had been Melissa, as well; born in Marshall, Minnesota. Perlr- ' After purchasing a short auburn wig, she attempted to m Denver hotel, leaving behind her car and an apartment fill*. -1 with her packed belongings. Mrs. Browning and others would think she was kidnapped for sure, but there was no other why 189 hil Ml llu- hotel, she was able to obtain a fake birth cer- 11 ii new social security number. In a matter of days, ilrlinHii Nolan, from Marshall, Minnesota, having apI I lu' other girl's vital data. Miss "Nolan" paid cash Utnr ticket to the East Coast, traveling by car to Wesidi* Island, where her father had often visited. There i her new life. w I'lngland she established residence close to her wait I' nl the Olympia Tea Room in Watch Hill, discarding nil heavy makeup. But the pain and deep disappointed ini>' her father and his criminal involvement reHiiluring her night and day. llu#re one good person left in the world? Whom could ml abandoned her life in Colorado, leaving all that was Id her, never having the chance to make good on her I 11 reams of establishing her own art gallery. All this onble life. At least she was safe here in Watch Hill. 191 yill TED IN HER CHAIR, eyes fixed on Melissa. "So lit you came to meet your husband?" she asked, plwnys felt we were supposed to meet, if you know what I ihi* said, recalling wistfully that moment in time. ' people were simply born gregarious. Ryan James was prrHon. She'd first noticed him at the restaurant, stopi; if breakfast or lunch, about a week after she began ( a waitress at the Olympia Tea Room, one of the iecu a person might ever expect to work or dine. i far cry from the world of painting she had planned 'I, the tip money alone more than paid for her rent and So, for the time being, she was set financially. >nly temporary," she explained to the tall and hand>n when he asked why a bright girl like herself was ii tables. nk her answer in stride, steering their conversation to >ij|H, speaking of his brokerage firm, "in Mystic . . . ever,. ?" tidn't, And she had no intention of leaving the protec! ti cozy small-town feel of Watch Hill. Not even when I her a job as receptionist was she interested in broadi horizons. She was still getting her bearings, acclimat- 192& Dayid Lewis ing to the name Nolan instead of Keaton, reminding herself thn I her birthday was no longer in mid-October but rather early May. She'd also falsified her life story to exclude the Browning and, most importantly, her father's dealings, telling Ryan thai her mother had died when she was a baby and that her fatliri abandoned them shortly after. As far as the handsome brokn knew, she'd grown up in a small town in Minnesota, whenwinters crept in stiffly on the heels of autumn, where folk took long walks to cool hot tempers instead of resorting to domesl i< violence, where curling up with a good book or touring an art museum in the big city of Minneapolis was the rule, not tinexception. ] j Week after week Ryan came to the restaurant, ordering full dinners over the lunch hour, no doubt to keep her coming back to his table, she came to realize. They talked, snippets of conversation here and there, when she brought his salad, more coffee, the dessert. Over time they got to know each other, though she'd never sat down across from him at the table, secretly longing to. She even wished he might ask her out, yet not knowing if she could follow through with a solid romance, the kind her heart longed for. So she'd backed off, changing her work schedule, sending him an unspoken message. Suzie, however, kept her apprised of his comings and goings. More "no shows" than before. Must be that he was taking the hint, backing away from what might have been. 1 "The day Ryan found me on the beach was really amazing," I Melissa said. She told Lela of the wild roses, dyed both red and white by genetic origin, growing in nodding rows near the shore line. Scent so fragile, yet alluring, she ran to them, eager to embrace their beauty . . . uncultivated and free. Here they flourished where one would least expect such robust blossoms, recipients of wind and weather, competing for attention with the I enormity of the indigo sea. Minuscule distractions, no doubt, to j the swell and pounce of breakers, the dash and spray of tide, I 193JP Sanctuary nl I he salty bouquet of the deep. For Melissa, these roses held h|iplured her fancy. I leaven knows she needed a day like this, after what she'd in1 through to find her way to safety and tranquility. Yet she'd it It all that was dear behind. Never sparing time to say good- iiye to either her grandparents or Mrs. Browning, she'd flown ill' to her new life, like a warbler's migration. A season of lirtiige, in all respects. Yet the season was rife with summer, lii'art-stoppingly picturesque in every way. A swan caught her eye. The gentle creature must have roNsed the ridge, perhaps followed her here. She picked up her brush and made wide, broad strokes, composing the vision of M.t'itce before her on canvas. Oh, to share this moment with Mrs. Hi owning. Mora, than ever, she missed the dear lady, having "iily been in Rhode Island for three months. Not a single day p.i:;:;cd that she didn't think of the woman, reliving the good l.iys, the happy times, before everything changed. The ivory olor of the swan reminded her of Daddy's favorite roses white 11 the moon. "The farmer in the dell," she sang, remembering her father's nonsensical response. Farmer's stuck in the well . . . How many times had she and Mrs. Browning laughed over I It;11 one? And all the other ridiculous, meaningless rhymes I ),iddy created as they tilled and weeded the rose gardens at both I lie Browning house and their own. This couldn't be the same I )addy that... 194 Sighing, she knew if she recalled the memories for too long, she'd wind up weeping. Not today. Not here where the be;u li seemed to belong to her and her alone. Where a friendly swan had decided to pose for her, lingering near the shoreline, havinr waddled or flown over from the harbor, no doubt. She focused on the gossamer whiteness, its feathers a high sheen in the luster of sun and half shadow. The sinuous move ments intrigued her, and leaving her palette and canvas, she wandered out near the water, pulling bread crumbs from a small sack she'd brought with her, flinging the morsels. She laughol softly, coaxing the exquisite bird closer . . . closer. In afternoon's light, she stopped to listen, absorbing surf and sound, enthralled by the idyllic moment. She thought no monof her father, of loved ones, of her daring dash to safety. She put all of it behind her, caught up in the rapture of the swan, its tantalizing poise and amity beguiling her. How long she remained there, feet stuck in wet sand and the ebb and flow of tide, she cared not. Her very existence she eel ebrated in that sweeping moment, when nature and beasl reached into her very soul. She was alive! She'd survived tinordeal of her past. In one brush stroke of fate, she had been made new. The time had come to submit, give in to love fully Turn over more than one leaf at a time, she told herself. She must, as this swan did, acquiesce to both sun and shade. Allow the sky, as broad and lucid as heaven, to spread its canv;in of blue, red, or gold above her; it mattered not. And the handsome young man who continued to pursue her, stopping by the restaurant to make supposed small talk over soup and sandwiches, was a big part of it. So why not? She had every reason to cease worry and enjoy life for a change, without fear. This was her time, at last. 195 M'-Hssa soon discovered Ryan sitting there in the sand. Not ''"'mi', how long he'd been there, watching her, she thought I io her interaction with the swan, blushing at her spontaii-. Nevertheless, Ryan had found her, observing her delight i ilu' lone swan, soaking up the sunshine, rejoicing in her I mind life. lu' had been wary of the dashing man since they'd met. uwilling to trust, unsure of herself; too vulnerable, perhaps. liiri being the first time she'd ever gone so far from home, she 11 is he had better look out for number one. For too long now had been looking over her shoulder, half expecting to come < lo-face with more of the insanity. I unething real changed in her that day at Napatree. It may i > heen the manner in which Ryan spoke to her, taking his i M11. l.o let the moment unfold. Or perhaps it was that she sensed l w.ik trustworthy after all. All the same, she'd met a man who, ill. i- herself, longed for a profound and meaningful companion- hip Not just the flirtatious here-today-gone-tomorrow type of iInm>. No, Ryan James was solid as granite. And sure. She felt ho iould bet her life on him. 'They began dating, falling into the swift current of a serious Itttionship. They saw each other regularly, nearly every day. lit* shared her love of art, told him about the secret meaning of much, reciting tKe various hues and classifications. Before too i iiiny weeks they became engaged she, accepting a ring, and i-'yun pressing to set a wedding date. [kit one morning she freaked and left her fiance wondering >hut had happened to her. She'd awakened from a terrifying lidiun. A nightmare that involved the remnants from her past n Melissa Keaton, a dream so real, she nearly fell to her knees mi prayer. Her father was being tied to a chair, asked repeatedly I In* Hiime question: "Where is the money?" I1 e refused to reveal a thing to the men in the room, the living room where bedtime stories had been lovingly told to 196 Mellie, where she had laughed and romped and played with hei darling father, the very room that had become their refuge from the universe. That day their home had been violated, her failli in all things good and true shattered. And now her dreams weri I menacing reminders of what she was trying to escape. I can't let them touch Ryan, she thought, throwing clothilj into a suitcase. She felt she must be crazy to fall in love with! someone normal, someone who was innocent to the malevolenct that lurked in the shadows, threatening to find and devour her, No, she would not let them hurt Ryan, too. So she fled, "losing" herself for two days in the city of Prov idence, where she could easily hide, crying herself to sleep, knowing she had given up all hope of happiness. And she would have followed through, sneaked back to Watch Hill and packed up the few items she called her own, never to see Ryan again, She would've done so had she not missed him so desperately Not only missed him but longed to be his wife, to start anew, to put the past behind her. This she decided the afternoon ol the second day, phoning Ryan at his office in a panic, weepim; . . . sobbing her apology. Soon after, they planned a private wedding on a ridge ol rocks jutting out into the ocean. To the cry of sea gulls, they sealed their love, tossing rose petals into the water below. Thr setting sun splashed reds and golds onto the blue canvas ovei head, a ceremonious canopy. And Melissa Leigh Nolan tool Ryan's hand and his last name, embracing the covering of hi:, love. Forever. . . . 197 C-^ ^^* . J^w-e^n^Hr- f^ui^e. I I 111 WATERFRONT HOUSE lay at the far end of the road, i i part from the other homes by ample landscaping and trees. I iinl in hand, they strolled up the stone walkway, Ryan grin- ' ><: from ear to ear. Melissa wasn't quite sure why her husband "II >rought her here, having picked her up from the florist shop, i new workplace, and whisking her off to Lord's Point. A hose house is this?" she asked, innocent as to what Ryan had I nmed. "Ours." He opened the door for her. She was amaaed at the spaciousness, the open, light feeling I. islie stepped over the threshold and into the home facing the "tin'. "You're kidding, right?" I waning against the door, he folded his arms over his chest. I bought it with you in mind." She had no reason to distrust him; he'd never lied to her Inline, "But we don't have money set aside. . . ." I le caught her and pulled her close, kissing her lips. "We lirtvc money you know not of," he teased. Then, turning toward 11 * kitchen, he led her through the house. "So what do you think?" What did she think . . . well, she could scarcely get the -i > i In out. "The truth?" 198 L E W "And nothing but." Standing in the middle of the sun-room, windows wide they meandered about the place, pointing out perfect location for various flower beds and Melissa's dream come true- ln-i very own rose garden. I'll have gardens like Mrs. Browning's, sin thought, relishing the idea, wishing above all she could sh;in the truth of her past with her dear husband. On several occasions she'd started to tell him, but each tinu decided to wait. Once, while Ryan was watching a television program depicting the dealings of the Mafia, he had laughed oui loud, discouraging her further. "Is this for real?" he said, obvi ously surprised at the facts presented by the commentator, ttn Melissa withdrew, waiting for the right moment, which nevci seemed to come. They moved in promptly, decorating the house from a seemingly bottomless account Ryan said he was glad to share with her. "Been saving up for something like this for a long time," he told her. She was frugal in her decisions, however, choosing colors and fabrics, furnishings that met her liking. She included Ryan in the decision-making process, though he wanted her to do as she pleased. He made it very clear that this was more her home than his, "only because I know you're an artist and a woman." She had let him sweep her into his arms at that remark. "Women have a knack for making a house much more than just a place to hang a hat," he whispered, his face buried in her hair. Laughing, she freed herself, reaching for his hand and taking him upstairs. "I want you to see where I've hung some of my paintings." 199 I If obliged, and she was proud to show him the canvas dis|4 isinp, the friendly swan. "I thought this wall was best for it," In n.licl. ll is," He paused, studying the painting. "Remember that day?" I It* drew her near to him. "How could I forget?" I in the framed canvas remained in the hallway, across from Mm door leading to the master bedroom. "You can't miss it, MflMptiiiig and going." ^^^^| "It's perfect," said Ryan. "Like you." ^^^^^^^^^^^H .iff ' <# <||. ,|(p ,g:- mf* The Amtrak train to Manhattan was always prompt, and I nil day Ryan ran ahead, glancing over his shoulder to see that vjts close behind as they approached the platform. They had miicd a weekend in the city, making the rounds of various art i urns. "It's your birthday, so we'll do what you enjoy to- \ Itiy seventh her first encounter with the new birth date. < ienting at best. Having been accustomed to an autumn ! I uution for as long as she could remember, the springtime . ..I fell flat. - What's wrong, honey? Aren't you having a good time?" i in asked as they grabbed a salad at a nearby deli. 'lie couldn't bring herself to tell him that the day was an I'lmary one, in fact, not her birthday at all. The whole situation r ' med rather silly now that she felt perfectly safe as Ryan's ili . living in an out-of-the-way place like Lord's Point. Their I e was nestled on a promontory, bordered by Quiambaug t 'nve iind Fishers Island Sound. The cape was sparsely popuLili il, a plus for someone yearning for peace. "I'm fine," she answered, presenting him with her most enHHBIi'.ii nit', smile. "What a fabulous place to celebrate a birthday." ^^^^Hu' eonsidered the little girl, Melissa Leigh Nolan the real 200 AVID L E girl long-since buried. Not only had she stolen the chiU name and birth date to escape to freedom, to a life worth livii > she had chosen to continue the lie. Playacting, of sorts. But wli else was she to do? It was a Friday morning in mid-August when her gun. I friend Ali Graham called Melissa at work. "Can you get aw.iv for an hour or so?" Ali had asked. Melissa knew she could. Her boss recognized a loyal workc i when she saw one. Melissa was certainly all that and more, > conscientious florist's assistant. "It's been forever since we've had salad and a good face-In face," Ali said, using their catch phrase. "A face-to-face, eh?" She laughed, glad her friend had callc'l "I'll meet you there." S&P Oyster Company, located beside the drawbridge, w.i crammed with hungry noontime patrons. Melissa gave her namr to the receptionist and was told the wait would be "about ten minutes." Okay with that, she and Ali chatted, catching up on each other's lives. She noted the maroon awning above the on! side deck, where small white lights twinkled over flower boxen, night and day. Expansive windows on the entire west side of the restaurant looked out to the river. Private yachts and the Mystic Belle were docked nearby. The Sabino, a steam-powered passenger vessel, formerly an island steamer in Casco Bay, Maine, transported tourists to and from Mystic Seaport, a maritime museum. "Did you and Ryan get to the outdoor art festival last weekend?" Ali asked. "Wouldn't miss it. Great stuff." Ali said that she and her husband had gone to Boston for a play. "Sometime the two of you should go with us." "Sounds like fun." Melissa felt a bit overwhelmed by the 201 | 11 ul the crowd waiting for tables. "Maybe we should go I i where else to eat," she commented. I I Ui-y were about to leave when her name was called. They Inwril the hostess down the step to a table for two near the fuluw, overlooking the water. Once seated, she said, "Glad we U?" ^Hli greed. "With a waterfront seat? Sure am." ^H'Hi'y quickly ordered from the menu, glad for the oppor- ^^W to visit. ^Hjidway through lunch, Melissa noticed a man seated across ^Hsoitf from them. Curious, she stared at him. His angular, ^Hfe chin and piercing eyes drew her attention. Then it came ^Htvnnov," she whispered. Here, on her turf, was the man HPtl claimed to be with the FBI in Denver, using the name Brtli.i. "What?" AH said, obviously confused. Melissa watched him a moment longer. She didn't think he I"-1 urn her. But it was only a matter of time before he did. I- turned in her seat, shielding her face from his view. Now what? "Are you okay?" Ali asked, frowning. "I don't feejjgood. I ... I'd better leave." I Mi looked worried. "I'll drive you." No." She rose from her seat, grabbing her purse. "I'll see h Liter. I'm sorry." Mel lie . . ." Ali called after her. I Kitside, she stood across the street, waiting . . . watching ||f entrance. From her position she could see the entire restau|nt, Several couples emerged during the few moments she jfnili'd. But Ivanov did not. \ When she could wait no longer, she turned and headed up ^c Ntivet toward her parked car. How foolish of me! she thought | tin* realization of her precarious situation sank in. Why did fir have to handle things herself? Her way? 202 At home she wasted no time locating the business card im the FBI's Agent Walsh, the kind man who had offered her pi i > tection back in Denver. The man whom she had not so politely refused. Fingers shaking, she dialed the agent. Thankfully, he n membered her. "I wondered what had happened to you," s;iiil Agent Walsh. "You were going to keep in touch." Quickly, she told her story, that for three years she'd been living in the Mystic area under an assumed identity. "But tocl.iv I saw Ivanov at a restaurant downtown. I don't know whai in do." "Did he see you?" he asked, his voice suddenly tense. "I'm not sure." "I don't like the sound of this. And I don't believe in on incidences. Do you think it's possible he followed you to tinrestaurant?" "I just don't know. How could he have found me?" "That's what troubles me," the agent replied. "Think care* i fully. Did he follow you home?" 1 "I don't think so. I waited for him to follow me out of tin! restaurant, but I didn't see him come out." The agent sighed. 1 "Should I call the police?" "That may not be the best course," he replied. "That would j only make you an easy target. This man is very dangerous. Un fortunately, I don't have an agent in the area right now. Let's go over this again. ..." He asked her a few questions, starting with her address, whether she had kept in touch with her old friends and relatives, and whether or not she had ever married, "My husband works for New England Asset Management," she told him. A sudden pause. "Melissa," he said, his voice rising slightly, "You must do exactly as I say." The terror, that all-too-familiar response, rose in her chest, blocking her lungs, making it difficult to breathe or to think. 203I. bANCTUARY; you must leave the area immediately . . . don't say a word >.'\'nru\" I don't understand." \Vc have no time to debate this, Melissa. Find a safe place, location. Make sure you're not followed. When you arrive >ir destination, call me again. Do not use your cell phone, I in an emergency." iVIint about my husband? I can't just leave him." Your husband will be safe. Trust me." Mul " I JHti'ii to me," he said, his voice adamant. "Your life is in danger. I'll explain everything when you call." he hung up, nearly hysterical, found her overnight case, and i'i bled a note to Ryan. Saying good-bye to their dog, she !' i"d to the car. 1 'nee on the highway, she gave in to her fear and despera< More than that, though, was her concern for Ryan's safety. You poor thing," Lela said, brushing tears from her eyes. ' 11 it you've been through." U'liHsa had surprised herself by sharing so much. Yet now, ny; into the face of the Mennonite woman, she knew Lela I keep her secrets, guard the truth. In the very core of her, Ill'W. When you called the FBI agent yesterday, what did he tell .ibout your husband?" Lela asked, her eyes compassion- Idissa folded her arms at her waist, holding herself against ii liK'ss that swept over her. How could she voice the words? 11 ling deeply, she leaned forward, revealing the startling in- < ilion. "Ivanov wasn't the only reason I had to leave Con- .. ill."Whatever do you mean?" Lela frowned. Melissa shook her head, tears falling fast. Just like Daddy . . . I i nbout Ryan," she whispered, then stopped, unable to speak. 204 Lela touched her arm gently. "What is it?" Struggling with the reality, she said softly, "Ryan is is mwof them." "I don't understand." Lela's frown seemed to encompass Ium entire face. "Ryan works for the same people who killed my father." 206It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. Antoine de Saint-Exupery 4* 4I * #207/ c/ / c/ f 11 DAWN WAS BRIGHT, the sky clear. Mystic River I I effortlessly toward the ocean. Several ducks waddled to I Jge, hoping for handouts. Ryan had none to give as he In i n A against the railing, hours before he was expected to arrive I work. I I le had come to Mystic River Park, as he often did, to ponP( I he past few days. To question how everything had gone so Ifni ig; how he might make it all right again. I "I Icy, Mister Ryan." I I It- turned to*see Stevie, a brown-haired boy, holding two limp, rods in his right hand and a tackle box in his left. Several himllis ago they'd met at this very spot. Ryan had bantered [illi Stevie, and the lonely boy had haltingly invited Ryan to wii with him. Since then it had become an oft-repeated event. Ryan smiled at him. "Haven't seen you for a while." "I've been here. Every morning," his young friend replied Hili w slight tone of reproach. "Sorry. Been busy." "Too busy today?" "(Jive me that pole, young man. Let's wake up the fish." I Kevie broke into a grin. All was forgiven. Together they |n.i>hed their bait and tossed the lines into the water. They 208 fished for over an hour, enjoying each other's company, talking about guy stuff. "Catch anything?" someone said behind them. Ryan tiimcil to see Jim Ivanov leaning up against the retaining wall. Ryan was surprised to see him. "Thought you were coining next week." Jim shrugged, staring at the water. "Something came up," "Bernie know you're here?" Ryan asked. "Not yet." "Have you had breakfast?" Ryan asked, making small Uill He glanced at Stevie, whose face was crestfallen. He twitch' I the fishing line. Ivanov ignored Ryan's question. "You going to be in 11" office today?" "For a few hours. Have to take a friend to the airport iln afternoon." "I need a meeting with you and Bernie. Say about niiu o'clock?" Ryan frowned. "Is there a problem?" "Nah," Jim replied casually, walking away. "That guy's creepy," Stevie said once Ivanov was out ul earshot. "He just doesn't have any friends to play with," Ryan sai<( Stevie giggled, pulling back on his fishing pole. j "God will help us," Lela whispered as early-morning rayif danced on the kitchen wall. She bowed her head, thinking Oh Melissa, still asleep upstairs. "Dear Lord, I stand on the promq ises of your Word. I rest in your care, confident of your mightJfJ power. Thank you. Amen." 1 Mellie's words echoed in Lela's mind: "You're in danger if I stay here." She felt the slightest shiver of fear again. But sh * remembered the Scripture: "The angel of the Lord encampeth 209 I about them that fear him." Renewed peace flooded her KIh> was doing the right thing, encouraging Melissa to stay Whatever danger lurked outside her doors, God was in "I, Both she and Mellie were safe. ' lelissa had not slept well. Her thoughts whirled with mem- >f the man she had believed in, trusted, and married. How it be that her beloved husband was in league with the u;roup who'd taken her father's life? Part of her rejected it, I irlieving that her support system, all wrapped up in one won- iu! man, could have been false. ' lie recalled one event after another where Ryan was true I i'.ood. Always forthright and decent. Never once had she thied him or suspected that he might be less than honest in 1'iiHiness dealings or with her. She wished she could phone . md ask him for herself, yet she dared not. I't inning back the covers, Melissa rose to face the window. lured past the curtains to the sky, blue as a robin's egg. hi'h words came back to haunt her. "I have money you know I," her husband had playfully teased her when first they'd i. in Lord's Point to see their house. At the time she'd won- I about his cpmment, but only for a flicker of a moment. r.hine in his*^yes, that spontaneous look of expectation and luid erased even the slightest hint of doubt. I'inally, she had to face something she hadn't thought about .mcb. Eighty million dollars. Where was it? If only she knew mswer to that, perhaps then, and only then, would this l>imare cease. As long as men like Ivanov suspected she knew if her father had holed away eighty million dollars, as long I u*y were watching her every move, she would never be truly / >( :x Ryan know about the money? Melissa wondered. Did he ' me into marrying him, hoping I might reveal something somelias everything about our marriage been a lie? 210f Beverly <$ David Lewi Marge was at her desk when Ryan entered the reception area. "Mr. Personality is in town," she whispered grimly. Ryan smiled. "Yeah, I know." Her eyes darted toward Bernie's office. "They're in there," "Hmm." Ryan headed for his own office and began prepay ing for his daily trading routine, turning on his wall of monitor!. Several minutes later Marge peeked in. "Bernie wants to m*n you ASAP." She jerked her head toward Bernie's office, giving Ryan a look that said, Pretty weird, eh? Ryan stood up quickly, trying to remember the last I inn Bernie had called him to the executive office. He followed M;ii(jr across the reception room to the door with the words Benuiul Stanton etched in gold. Ryan rapped twice on Bernie's door and opened it. Imnu diately to his left, Ivanov stood up. "Have a seat." Ivanov i\< tured toward his now vacant chair, as if it were his office Ky.m was entering. "I'll leave you two alone for a moment." The client slipped out. Ryan quickly appraised the seat that Ivanov had just v.i cated, choosing instead to sit in the chair opposite Bernie's de.'l Glancing at his boss expectantly, their eyes met, then Benin dropped his gaze to his hands, rubbing them together, as if pic paring a speech. "You wanted to see me," Ryan ventured. Bernie didn't speak at first, allowing an uncomfortable .m lence to fill the room. A room nearly twice the size of Ryan office. The floor, covered in deep forest green carpet, accents I the mahogany bookcases and desk that the boss seemed to hiid behind. No wonder he escapes here every day, Ryan thought fleet ingly. It's a paradise. Bernie stood tentatively, turning his back on Ryan to look out his tall windows. It was obvious by his awkward movement!211 aI the older man was deeply troubled. The ever-lengthening |il- 't>-.i| only served to unsettle Ryan's nerves. I Itv ti frowned. "Everything okay, Bernie?" I i In I loss turned to face him, tracing his finger along his desk. I )id we lose a client?" Ryan asked, thinking of Ivanov. Heinie sat down again, steepling his fingers. He paused i. "Do you have any idea what we've been doing here all years?" What do you mean?" i u'l'iiie met his gaze. "Don't play games with me. I'm talking I our business . . . those stock symbols I feed you from time lie," 1'lynn, loath to voice the words, replied softly, "Insider trad- tW*rnie snorted, dropping his hands to the desk and giving it look of disgust. "For starters, yeah. Throw in money li'iing, and you've got a better picture. Don't say you didn't * that out years ago. If you didn't, then you're not as smart ;,ivc you credit for." van had tried to ignore the occasional suspicious nature of Ininsactions. "It was none of my business," he replied, >m Bernie would drop it. Why rock 4ne gravy boat, eh?" Bernie stood tall, consid- Ryan cynically. "You've been well paid to look the other What's your point?" Ryan asked. I'm getting to that." Bernie angled his head toward the i >l ion area and lowered his voice. "First off, Ivanov isn't just In ni. He owns us." I'ninie's admission sent shock waves through Ryan. "He I .railing forward, his boss continued. "He and his partners iili an extensive interstate network. Our company, New EnIrtlul Asset Management, is only a front, with a few real clients ukecl on to make things look legit." Bernie dropped his gaze 212 to the desk again. "And ... do you remember a little more 11 mil three years ago, when we were interviewing potential secret m ies?" Ryan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the direeliun the conversation was taking. "I sent you out to Watch Hill to interview Melissa for liejob," Bernie said. "Did you think I'd merely picked out a < m> waitress and decided to hire her as office dressing? Trutli i Melissa's father used to work for Ivanov. I figured the best > to keep an eye on her was to have her work for us. We m -.-. 11 expected you to marry her." I Ryan's mind reeled with Bernie's rapid-fire revelations. Kir/il an eye on her. ... Before Ryan could respond, a single knock came at the d<>w What's the word for it irony? that Melissa would flee from Colorado, hoping to hide from me, and instead she ends up here in Connecticut. In my own backyard! The gods do smile on me." Ryan stared at the arrogant man with growing fury and fnw tration. Denny's tortured revelation about Melissa's fake identity 213 made complete sense. His wife had been hiding from Iva- I You seem to have left out a few important details," Ryan (a I I "Yes, it seems I forgot the most important part. Your wife's llirr stole my money, and I want it back," Ivanov replied nllt*r-of-factly. I "Well, ask him for it," Ryan replied. I Ivunov exchanged glances with Bernie. "I'm afraid the man's I hi lie indisposed at the moment." I Uyan barely concealed a shiver of fear. I Ivanov smirked, as if registering Ryan's realization. "You Inii h on fast." He took another measured sip of coffee, seeming li * 11 joy the power he wielded. Lowering his mug, he looked at I', in with false sympathy. "Your wife spotted me at a restaurant lit i I'Viday. I was hoping to have a friendly conversation with In i Instead she took off like a frightened gazelle. Luckily, I was I I' lo track her down again." I 'Where is she?" Ryan demanded a second time, his voice ll< I'lunate and controlled, unlike his emotions. n 'She's fine," he said. "But I need your help " I Kyan came uncorked. "You terrorize my wife, and now -?" I "I want my mon.ey ... is that too much to ask?" I "And you thinlt Melissa knows where it is?" I Ivanov smiled broadly. "Of course she knows." I "If you're so sure, why'd you wait so long to approach her?" I "Good question. Frankly, at first, I had my doubts about nn, I briefly considered the possibility that she had no knowl- m\yx of the money or its whereabouts, unlikely as that seems to flfu* now." I "She never said anything to me " I "My point exactly," Ivanov said. "She didn't say anything l)tout her past at all, did she?" I Kyan said nothing. I Ivanov looked amused. "Don't feel too bad. She lied to both 214/an [ ( I >l Beverly & David Lewis of us. And that's what finally persuaded me that she was liidia^ the money." "That's a big leap in logic," Ryan muttered. "I want no p.nl of this fantasy." Bernie shook his head sadly. "There's no getting out, Ryan Ivanov changed the subject abruptly. "Do I understand < < n rectly that your parents reside in Montana? Your dad gocvi i<> town on Friday afternoons . . . helps a friend restore a > Chevy." Ryan was beginning to comprehend. "Sundays, they attend the community church, always sil in the fourth pew, in front of their neighbor, Doris Chandler, wlm annoys your mother with her constant chattering. Need 1 Km tinue?" "Need I be impressed?" Ryan said. "Be convinced. I have friends everywhere." Ivanov cocknl his head. "You're threatening my family." "I'm explaining the stakes." Ryan fell silent. Ivanov added, "You might as well know llu* full story. Your wife's been in touch with the FBI. She known you work for me." Ryan frowned in disbelief. Ivanov smirked. "My dear boy, if it walks on two legs . . I can bribe it. I've got enough Feds on my payroll to start m\ own federal police force. How do you think I found Melissa' father?" "What do you want from me?" "Talk sense to your little woman. Lay out the red carpet of reason," Ivanov said calmly, as if explaining the theory of phyH ics. "We don't have much time. If the Feds put her under their protection poof! she's gone. Later, she betrays you in corn I, taking the rest of us down, too. Of course, I won't let that hap pen." Ivanov's eyes turned cold as he leaned over to make a point, 214 |215 hjMines, witnesses have a way of disappearing long before pvcr testify in court." he evil truth registered in the Russian's merciless eyes. I look, a deep breath and exhaled. "Let's cut to the chase, lr?" By nil means," Ivanov said. iWhy don't you question her yourself? Why do you need I/hmov stared back at Ryan, and for the first time since he'd nil Bcrnie's office, his confidence seemed to falter. His face I briefly, then he recovered his bravado. "I figured that you, If husband, might be more . . . persuasive." nytin considered Ivanov's odd response. "And why should lu-ve you won't harm her once we find your precious ,.-yi Ivanov broke into a resounding guffaw. "Because I need you, 'h. You've made us exceedingly rich. You're like the goose H, 1 ' n (he golden eggs. If I ruffle your feathers you might stop." You have a strange way of putting things." We're starting over, bringing you fully on board. Are you 'ill us or not?" Ivanov demanded. Kyan caught Bernie's eye, which registered an unmistakable I Don't be a fool*. . . Ryan hesitated. The silence spun out nizingly. Finally he nodded. "All right." Mernie gave his own sigh, apparently relieved. 'Ciood man." Ivanov made an open gesture with his hands 'i'- i encompassed the entire office. "I don't understand much of h.it you do here, but some of my financial people want to take i !i ui.hed off his coat, and extended his hand to Ryan. Kyan shook it, as if sealing an ordinary business deal not i M **-and-death decision to save Mellie's life. 216 To Bernie, Ivanov scoffed, "You worry for nothing. 'I ! went well." He got to the door and turned back to th. >. "They'll give you a call, Ryan. You won't meet here, of corn r Ryan watched Ivanov swagger out. 217 |\ I' MAIN STREET was crammed with vehicles waiting for I < 11 iiwbridge, allowing early-morning boat passage down the |\ i ic River. Ivanov stared at the line of cars. Commoners, he Iimjlit, despising them. Dull, pathetic mortals. . . . I IK- sneered, recalling his conversation with the weak-minded I1 . .mily manipulated Bernie Stanton. Like taking candy from a [/>, He especially reveled in the pathetic expression on Ryan Ih^n's face as Ivanov expertly led him down the long narrow in> that would eventually lead to execution. I \nd to think f waited so long for this pleasure, he thought, li>< inhering how, three years ago, he had sent his lackeys to Li' < the transmitter under Melissa's car. Then his men, posing I < 11 v utility workers, had placed bugs in the living room of the I... 11 front home, as well as in the sailboat. Finally, to insure li"i>lete surveillance, they monitored all telephone and cellIti .lie communications. All this to snag the moment when Melt i might reveal to Ryan the truth about the money. I'ut nothing had been revealed, so Ivanov decided to stir the Lt lie allowed Melissa to spot him at the restaurant, taking great i i ure in her scramble for safety. Then he'd tracked her moveIt i >i m, following her, curious to discover her final destination. Perki hi she might even lead him to the money. But she hadn't. 218T E R L Y avid Lei i No matter. Ivanov was finished with his elaborate ajjfj games. In a few days, thanks to naive but desperate intervonli..n from her beloved husband, Melissa would reveal where lici i > ther had hidden eighty million, which, by now if propel managed should have quadrupled in value. He held little trust in the whole bunch of "money-handlo that echelon of society that controlled large sums of drug ami t . tortion money. But Ryan had made a tremendous amount df money for the network through his legitimate activities, and hi partners were reluctant to part with their "star" trader. 1 Ultimately, though, desire for revenge had trumped hl| greed. Ivanov had convinced his partners to analyze the trail ifti methods contained in Ryan's computer records. They'd con* sented, and the last brick was in place. Time to eliminate lh| "goose," since the golden eggs could be purchased elsewhere, j Revenge! How sweet it would be, and to take it out on thf daughter of the very man who'd made him out to be a foo|( along with the underling who'd married her. Ryan was shaken as he stared at the row of monitors in hit own office. When a knock came at his door, the sound seemed1 but a distant echo. Slowly the door opened and Marge poki'd her head around. "Need anything?" He didn't reply at first, then asked absentmindedly, "llni Bernie left for the day?" Marge nodded. "That guy had some weird effect on bolli you and Bernie. Why don't you just drop him? Who needs clients like that?" Looking up at her, as though in a dream, he watched her enter the room tentatively. "Ryan?" "I'd better head out," he managed to say. "Denny's at homo, waiting for a ride to the airport." j "Hey, I'm worried about you," Marge said quickly. 4 219I, I III1' rtl. S A I C T D A H Y Mil mind a fog, he forced a laugh. "Don't be." "W you tomorrow?" i ' ignored the question and reached down to twist the key 1 ilruk, locking up for the day. That done, he shut down 1 ink of screens. I Vmiy stroked Ryan's dog, then carried his suitcase outside, n{ it into the trunk. He waited for Ryan to emerge from the holding the wrapped painting, the gift from Melissa. lew more hours and he'd see his Evelyn again. Never in I'll- had he missed anyone so much. Coming to Connecticut, I imped to help Ryan, but in the end he'd only made matters , it seemed. l van eventually ran out to the car, wearing jeans and a blue htrt. He gave Denny a halfhearted smile, and they settled ' lie car for the drive to the airport. I left you a book," he told Ryan, "in case you feel like lire, thanks," Ryan muttered. I wish things could have been different," Denny said softly, i mining whether he should press further. Denny waited a in lit, then continued. "I also wish we could have prayed iIut . . . about this whole mess." I'y.m snorted. "And what would that accomplish?" Irither of them spoke for a time; then Denny said, "Hey, vIuit's going on ... besides the fact that you're worried sick mi Melissa?" lorry, I'm not in a party mood." No . . . it's more than that," he persisted. "( Vmon, Den " "Let me say this. I'm your friend. Ryan. We've been say your Ryan. |i>"igh a lot together. I know when things aren't right. 220& David Lewis npli ii Ryan looked at him. "What do you want from me?" i\ "What aren't you telling me? Why did Melissa really Icivuf Help me out here." Ryan shook his head as if disgusted but remained silent. I )i*m looked over at his friend, feeling the sadness that emanated Ii Ryan like relentless ocean waves. And then it came to Denny an 11 > whisper from a still, small voice. The thought didn't make compli u sense, but he plunged forward, almost desperately, taking a nIhM in the dark. "God can forgive anything, Ryan." His friend frowned, obviously surprised. "What're you lulU ; ing about?" ; "It doesn't matter what you've done." "You think I ran her off?" "Of course not." "Then what?" "I don't know. ..." A Scripture floated into Denny's mini "Remember the sermon on Sunday?" Ryan said nothing, looking ahead to the road. " 'Gome to me all you who labor and are heavy laden, itn I will give you rest.' That's what it's about, Ryan. Repentiino Forgiveness of sin. Peace of mind. Freedom from guilt. That* the gospel. You don't need proof. You need grace. And m doesn't always make sense, but it's free. It's not for good peodH It's for sinners " H "You're a broken record. You're stuck in one place." fl "Yes, I am," Denny replied. B "Just who do you think I am?" I Denny pondered the question, then said, "I'm not sure aruH more." H Ryan shot an angry look at him. "I have no use for y<^| God. Melissa's lost and He can't find her." H Denny caught the expression in Ryan's eyes the hurt a^| guilt, mingled with something new: bitterness. He'd seen tH same look countless times on the streets of Denver's inner ci^H "Don't let time run out for you," he finally urged. iM 221(In. S A N C T D A R Y 1 Ikmi they reached the airport, Ryan drove to the gate, I, and got out. Denny went around to the back of the car, mi(4 the painting from Melissa. He watched as Ryan opened ii uiik, removed the suitcase, and placed it firmly on the ce- i "Still friends?" Denny asked, extending his hand. !'Viin offered no response but shook hands as if finishing a 'Take care, Denny," he replied, with a tone of finality. 11 in heart heavy, Denny picked up his bag and walked into I'uilding alone. Once inside, he looked over his shoulder, >n;h the glass windows, intending to wave good-bye, but H hud already sped off. I >.usy was exuberant, running to Ryan as he came into the . -H-iuatted down, nervously clawing at his ankle. I'm sorry," he said, his eyes shifting to Mellie's painting. I In was startled by the jangle of the phone and answered it, i ' 11 ing Ivanov. The call was not from the man who made his i I boil, but rather from his mother in Montana. 222& David Lewis "Ryan?" she said. "I'm surprised to catch you at homr was calling to thank Mellie for the lovely birthday card. H caused to his own home. With forced calmness, he repli -,l "Fine, Mom. How are you and Dad?" "Oh, your father hasn't complained in the last hour, MQj guess he's all right." She laughed softly. "We received yai check. Can't say how much we appreciate your help." "Forget it, Mom. ..." His voice trailed off. "How was your visit with Denny? Such a nice young man.1 "He left for Colorado a few hours ago." "Did he like Mellie's painting? She told me all about it." "Yeah, he liked it. Uh . . . Mom, I need to get going." "Oh, sure. But may I talk to Melissa real quick? I want \< thank her " "She's not here at the moment. I'll talk to you soon. T.il care of yourself, okay?" Ryan said good-bye and hung up, then placed both h;nnl flat on the counter, breathing deeply, his mind a jumble of cm., tions. He stared at the broken window and then at Mclli. painting, marred by his own rage a fitting symbol of 1.1 m fairy-tale existence. Rehashing the past, he recalled the first time, years ago, whn Bernie had approached him with a questionable trade. At in time, he'd vacillated, torn between making more money than hi'1' ever dreamed of that, or taking the high road. Something insi> I him, a core of decency and honor, told him to quit his job a in pack his bags. But greed had a stronger, louder voice. Bernie was right. Ryan had been paid very well to look in other way. But he'd never known . . . this the extent of the evi empire that controlled his workplace. And yet his own thirst I< > money had brought him to this place. Now he was in too mm I trouble to get out. The very lives of his wife and parents ilr pended on what he did next. How can Mellie ever forgive me? he thought grimly. 223 f'U^e^wy-(^Pvyiw- 1 I YN MET DENNY at the airport, and after they em- i and engaged in small talk for a while, he filled her in on i plight. "It's a sad situation," he said as she drove him i home. I' ve been praying for them . . . and for you, too, while you ihere," Evelyn said, looking exceptionally beautiful in a mi nkirt and matching blouse. Thanks, I appreciate that," he said, meaning it. Well, I hope you're hungry," she said as they entered the loor of her town home. "I made dinner for you." ''ou're always thinking of me." He took her in his arms i main. In- giggled with delight, then headed off to the kitchen. Mind if I check my phone messages from here?" Make yourself at home," she called back over her shoulder. I U" reached for the portable phone in the living room and I the number. Punching in his code, he listened to the usual M.-ring of hang-ups and unimportant calls, until he heard tiling disturbing. "Denny? It's me, Melissa. . . ." idling down, he listened with interest to the rest of the reI--I.I call. At the end she had given a number where she could 224 be reached. Quickly, he hung up. Then, using his phone in i he dialed Melissa before he forgot the number. When Evelyn wandered into the living room, he covem! i\- mouthpiece with his hand and whispered, "Melissa." Her > grew wide. But it wasn't Melissa who answered. When he ideiilid ' himself, the woman said, "I'll go get her." Soon he heard Mellie's familiar voice. "Denny, is it you "Hey, where are you?" he asked. "Have you talked to Rymn He's worried sick." He glanced over at Evelyn. She was sitiiii| across from him in a chair, her hands clasped as if in prayer, "I need to talk to you, Denny," Melissa said. "I'm listening." For the next few minutes, Melissa wove quite a tale on ihl a prayer heavenward, asking God for guidance. Organizing I in thoughts, he realized he may have jumped to some conclusion He recalled his conversation with Ryan as they drove to tin airport, his own suspicions. What aren't you telling me? Why m door ajar. I mi the hours that followed, neither of them engaged in their ..I ullhand bantering. In fact, they scarcely spoke at all. I1 ml before noon, when Marge delivered several documents, i' .1 "landing at the window, watching traffic cross the bridge. 1 tin i (Huputers were deathly still. At midday, no less. ! l< :;msed her behind him and turned, forcing a smile. "May I get something for you? Coffee, maybe?" she asked. "I've never asked you for coffee. You know that." 'Well, I certainly don't mind if " I'hunks, anyway." lu- slipped back toward the reception desk just as his phone >>i l''ii"teen minutes into the conversation, Marge poked her 1.1 in his door again. I Ic covered his receiver. "Yes?" he whispered, offering her i i-spectant look. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "But your friend Denny diiklin's on the other line." "Denny?" 226 She nodded. "He says it's urgent . . . sounds worried." He's calling to apologize, he thought. Or to preach some muM Ryan was put off. "Tell him I'm busy," he said. Looking rather bewildered, Marge nodded and turned In leave. Ryan uncovered the receiver and spoke at last. "I can mewl you tomorrow morning, ten o'clock." "Blue Waters Motel. Come alone," stated the voice on lli other end. "Alone . . . of course," Ryan said and hung up. 227 kl; WERE TWO PHONE GALLS in the afternoon. One ^fl Elizabeth, inviting both Lela and Melissa for supper toKw evening. "It's your birthday, ya know," her sister reHt-tl her. ^K)h my, I nearly forgot." ^Bli/ubeth chortled. "Now, how on earth can you forget your ^Bbirthday?" She paused. "So you'll be comin', then?" ^without consulting Melissa, Lela agreed that they would. ^Uung of the dire situation Mellie was in, she was tempted ^k lor prayer from Elizabeth and Thaddeus. But she kept rt|tcju'c, knowing full well that one thing could lead to another. I his way, keeping Mellie's confidence, not sharing one iota .1 soul, though she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hi would be talking to her heavenly Father, who sees and Wm and cares. KThc second call came from Paul Martin. "I was hoping to H) you at home, Lela," he said, not waiting long for her reHli'. "A little bird told me it was your birthday tomorrow." Vino, who could that be? she wondered, guessing it was Sadie H*Would you like to join me for dinner somewhere?" he HH. "You know to celebrate." 228 She found it almost humorous that the man this m.in who'd left her for another was nearly pleading with hn ispend time with him. Offhand, she'd thought of inviting him iElizabeth's tomorrow evening. Safety in numbers, Mama alw.> said, growing up. Paul had been a friend of the family, a cl" friend at that. Years ago. She resisted the urge, knowing it w*n not her place to extend the invitation. "Do you mind if I u | back with you on this?" she said, finding her voice. "Why, no, not at all." They went on to chat about the fair weather and the go(|d| sermon yesterday. Small talk, to be sure, but Lela sensed tM undertow of interest. Keen interest, at that. I "If it suits, you may call me later this evening," she said. 1 Indeed, she had a plan. 1 "I daresay my sister's in over her head with that fans boarder of hers," Elizabeth confided in Thaddeus while the tvM of them swept out the milk house. 1 "Now, we don't know that for sure, do we?" her husbaM chided. "Best wait and see what happens. Who knows bin maybe the Lord's in it, just like Lela seems to be thinkin'." 1 "Jah, maybe you're right. After all, it's not like Lela's thl impulsive kind. She lives her life pleasin' to God, follows \iM leading in most everything she does." Elizabeth thought of <>n| aspect of her sister's life the part that left hardly any room fog a husband. True, Lela had been hurt something awful by Paul Martin, back when. Elizabeth couldn't blame her sister fol choosing the single life, wholly committed to the Lord God Al j mighty. Thaddeus broke into her thoughts. "What gets my goat, though, is this car we're hidin' out over here." "I'm not surprised you feel that way." "Then Lela calls up to say the fancy woman's coming to gel it, only to call back in a minute that she isn't." He shook \m head, then scratched under his straw hat. "Seems to me, that 229 iilirtil she's got livin' over there doesn't have the slightest idea UiH nIh- wants, no how." I'liziiheth had to chuckle. " 'Least we won't hafta be hiding >* rise's car in our shed, jah?" She thought of their Amish -i'l >ors farther up the road, whose son had been caught hiding iiomobile behind a tree in his father's own pasture. 'Course I >dy got wind of it and blew the whistle on him, hauling iung fella in before the brethren. Since he hadn't joined < l> yet, hadn't taken the oath before God and the member- m he was spared a shunning. Still, she wondered what any- I would say or think if they knew about the shiny white car l-l by the wide planks of aging wood in their own shed. H Lda's plan didn't set well with Paul, that, of course, was i H*rogative entirely. But she did think she would ask Eliza- ii U) invite him to supper tomorrow evening. If he decided i ho, sharing a meal with the family gathered there, he'd !<> behave like a gentleman. 'Course, having known Paul I M'fore, she didn't see how that should be a problem at all. Mian hadn't committed a sin by becoming a widower. But, M,>;iin, a woman of her circumstances couldn't be too cau- Vlule Mellie slept, Lela phoned Elizabeth and had to laugh inile when hep-sister decided it was a "wonderful-gut" idea, >>il looming for the birthday meal, and all. In. Melissa's dream, she was a little girl again, preparing a i' bed for planting. "Mellie, Mellie not contrary, how does garden grow?" Daddy chanted. \Vater and sunshine and everything fine . . . that's what i rose gardens grow," Mellie answered. Irs. Browning was tickled at the two of them. "Goodness' you ought to jot down some of those silly sayings." What for?" Mellie asked. Why, for posterity, that's what," Mrs. Browning said, look- * Kg port; and sweet in her work apron. 230 Daddy stopped his raking, smiling down at little Mel lie ^ she reached for a fat brown worm he had uncovered, danujin|| it in midair. "She'll forget just like we all do when we grow ii| i,1'1' "I'm never growing up," Mellie insisted. jjl "That's right," said Daddy, laughing, then resumed his railing. |1 "And I'll never forget either," Mellie vowed. 11 When she awakened, her thoughts flew to Ryan. Heartbrffl ken at the thought of her husband's double life, she wept, ff alizing that she was never going back to Lord's Point. I Never again to be held in Ryan's arms, talking and sharifu into the night to the music of Debussy's "Claire de Lun ,| Never again would she laugh as he comically scrutinized ha artwork too closely, or bask on the sun deck of their little HaiB boat. Never again. ... j Not only was Paul Martin on hand at the Kings' house, bui his young son Joseph was there, too, playing a game of checker! with Timothy King. Indeed, Lela felt peculiar arriving aftm Paul, coming into her sister's back door along with Mellie, sell ing him there already. She tried to ignore the awkwardness 01 the situation, greeting him and going out of her way to introduCI Mellie. | "Very nice to meet you," Paul said, extending his hand td Melissa. "She'll be staying on with me . . . indefinitely." She felt slii ought to be straightforward with Paul, in case he decided to call on her at home sometime. Having Mellie there was also a d q terrent, perhaps, a safeguard against something romantic develJ oping too quickly. j 231 Inn ilu- | Wt you enjoying yourself here in Lancaster County?" Paul Melissa, offering a smile. Killing, Mellie said, "Very much, thanks." imI then Elizabeth rang her tiny dinner bell, and the chiln'Urried to the kitchen to wash up, taking turns as they ! up, Lela enjoyed watching her nieces and nephews, as well ui\g Joseph, vie for the soap and, later, the hand towel. She I ly dismissed any notion of becoming the towheaded boy's ntkinia. No, she mustn't set herself up for more pain, though clear Paul's adoring gaze was hard to avoid. "4 be careful not to lose my heart again, she thought. Beno one asked not once during the meal just how long vus scheduled to be in town. No one inquired of the busiiliat had supposedly brought him home, either. So she ' I her emotions, praying for divine guidance, quite unsure i Keif all round. V'hen the birthday cake was brought out, Lela delighted in 'cring that her sister had baked a lemon cake with rich Iate icing. Not at all in the typical Amish style, but defi- Lcla's favorite dessert and one their mother often made > own Mennonite home. "Why, thank you, Elizabeth," she looking around the table at the dear faces surrounding her. I thanks to e,ach of you for helping me celebrate this day." ming Mary-Jane excused herself, along with Timothy and i, and they headed for the front room. John, the baby, sat high chair, waving a spoon. Lela figured they were up to ill ing. And they were. Her nieces and nephew returned, ing homemade presents. Mary Jane's was a white doily; Ihy and Linda had made colorful drawings of cows and ., To top things off, Elizabeth brought out a platter of pie pies. Don't you think we've had enough sweets for one day?" fi.iul, smiling across the table at the children. Ai li, how can that be?" Timothy answered, reaching for il.iti' of goodies. All right, then." Lela was ever so pleased. 232H everly & David Lewi Melissa could not have counted the times she noticed a In ing exchange, eyes glowing, between Elizabeth and Thaddi" King. They were obviously very much in love and quite cond with their happy brood of four. She was also well aware of I'.i"i Martin's excessive courtesy and attention toward Lela, who v seated across from him and his son. Ardent interest, yes. So \Uwas the man, no doubt the reason for Lela's blushing checkn < < the phone the other day. Observing both couples, her heart ached anew for Ryan, p". artist and smooth talker though he had turned out to be. V i part of her longed to know, from his lips, the truth. When the time came to say their good-byes, she wondei> ! if she ought to make herself scarce, leave ahead of Lela, givim the woman ample opportunity for a proper send-off. But, inLela wouldn't hear of it, implored her to wait "and we'll wnli home together." "Please, allow me to drive you," Paul said, his hands restin on little Joseph's shoulders. "I would be very happy to see yen both home." Melissa was careful not to smile at the man's insistent i though he was not unpleasantly so. She rather liked him, ;nnl was fairly convinced that Lela did, too. In the end Lela gave in, and they rode the ridiculously shoi i way home Lela in the front seat, Melissa in the back, next in Joseph. "We're moving back to Lancaster," the boy said suddenly "You are?" Melissa asked. "And where is it you live nowi' "Alone ... all alone, in Indiana." The child's voice was t < pathetic, she wondered if he had been coached by his father, Melissa fully expected Paul to comment at this point, but. he directed not a single remark toward the backseat. Wondering when she might hear Lela's take on the celebmtion particularly this guest Melissa hoped they might havt 233 S A I C T D A S Y 11 unity to walk to the covered bridge before dusk. She I up at the sky, glad there was still plenty of light. More ui hour left before nightfall. I nt's walk down to Hunsecker Mill Bridge," Lela suggested I' lissa after saying good-bye to Paul and his delightful son. n a good time for me to show you my own personal ref- I'hat's what I was thinking." They laughed, both a little i ned that they were thinking along the same lines. "A walk l" heaven and earth couldn't take care of the two of them today, what good was it to trust in Him for things eternal? would havgftheir nice stroll down the road to the covered . and the lovely grounds surrounding it evil mobsters, or I'm glad you shared so openly with me yesterday," Lela i-1 .in they walked. "Believe me, what you told me about your ' i won't go anywhere but to the throne of grace." Melissa didn't respond, keeping pace with Lela's quick step. The weather's not bound to be this pretty too much ><< i," she said to change the subject. "Around here we often i Midden changes of weather, least expected." "In late summer?" "That's right." She went on to explain that sweater weather 234 ill Beverly & David Lewis would soon be upon them, and that maybe they should look i a handmade sweater or cape for Melissa to wear. "Or I can hi Elizabeth make you one." "That's nice of you, but I'll manage just fine." J "Maybe you'll feel comfortable going in to town now gM then." Lela paused, wondering if she should say more. " 'Spoil I could go along with you, show you to the best stores aiul whatnot. But only if you want to." "Sure, I'll go sometime." Lela smiled. "You seem much better, more relaxed now," Mellie nodded. "I don't know why, but I'm beginning tf feel very safe here. I'm glad to be staying on." Breathing a prayer of thanksgiving, Lela said, "I'm ever Nf glad to hear it." "Your birthday was extra special this year, I do believe." J Lela couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, dear me, I hope it wuhii'| written all over my face." j "And . . . Paul's," Mellie ventured. "He's your speeitf friend, right?" "He was, but that was a long, long time ago . . . before \>< married someone else." Lela sighed, not realizing till this minut> just how much she'd hoped to open her heart to Mellie, seeinc as how the younger woman fully understood the pain of reject i< >n and disappointment. Strange as it seemed, a delicate yet comm< m thread seemed to bind the two of them together. They sat along the grassy banks of the Conestoga River, I In covered bridge spanning the water to their left. Birds twitten .1 here and there as the sun made its slow tumble through the tin toward the unseen horizon. "So it appears that Paul Martin has come back for me, nm< that he's a lonely widower," Lela said, glad for the solitude hn< and the opportunity to share openly with Mellie. - " 'Love always finds its way home.' That's what Mn> Browning used to say." Lela didn't know what to think. "Easier said than done, I 'spose." 235*r SANCTUARY Millie was quiet for a while, then "I think I know what i int'iin." Hilt'ntly, they soaked up the beauty of their peaceful surMnlilies. Not speaking, yet joined in complete empathy. I did love Paul, very much," Lela said softly. I'm not surprised. He seems like a nice man." I 'iiul was the joy of my life, but when he chose someone |" devote his life to, a good part of me died, I'd have to ihe confessed, li'llie said she could understand that nothing could fill the I 'Nothing ever will." Well, now, that may be where we're different," Lela spoke I low do you mean?" I rla hugged her knees through her long dress. "After Paul I 11in wife left the area, I felt all my hopes were dashed to .. But very soon afterward, I decided to lay down my bur- 'i .at the feet of Jesus." She told Mellie how she'd grown i in a conservative Christian home, how her parents had in- llnl various worthwhile character traits. "My father liked to ink he was passing down 'good gifts' to his children. Things purity, generosity, sincerity . . . you know." MHlie nodded^. "My father encouraged me the same way, i 'vc never attended church. Neither did the Brownings, but were good people." I i-lii was careful not to sermonize, yet she felt Mellie's heart <>|H-mng to spiritual truth. "Church attendance is all well I food, but walking with Jesus every day makes life joyful, lor a visit. He always seemed so happy and full of life. I ' Cm searching for what both you and Denny have." Today's as good a day as any to find it," Lela said softly, Mining to face her new friend. "Wouldn't you like to give your "inli-riB to the Lord who loves you?" 236 Tears sprang to Mellie's eyes, and she gripped Lela's li.u, I "Yes . . ." she said. "That's exactly what I want to do." An easier witness she'd never given. Lela was more 11>.. happy to lead Mellie in the sinner's prayer. There, amidst H. flowing green willow boughs and the rush of the Cones I" River, Melissa James became a child of God. And Lela Denim ger her elder sister. Melissa brushed tears from her eyes, thankful despite ilcircumstances that she had found her way to Lela's little hou Grateful that the Mennonite woman had cared enough to bm.. her to this sacred moment. She thought of the picture of Christ the Good Shepherd, 11 > one hanging in Ryan's and her living room, and as she did, 1J1. followed the river's current with her eyes, drinking in the turn I !* of water over rocks, mossy banks profuse with wild flowers, .ml thick ivy cascading about. She celebrated the moment, breathing in the freshness of the air, allowing the sound of finch and swul low to cloak her in this tranquil place. At last, I belong to God, she thought, yearning to share tUA divine peace with Ryan. Yet knowing she could not. 237\^yfit\w esv >RE DAWN, LELA ROSE, dressed, and began sewing pillow shams for Elizabeth's country store. Nothing fed I nrit like working with one's hands baking bread daily, luig and sewing, putting up pickles and preserves, tatting i y edges around ordinary-looking pillow slips, and the like, litimmed and prayed as she worked, anxious to catch up a i "f she'd fallen behind on any number of house chores since Hh-'h arrival. Still, she wouldn't have traded the hours and pent with her boarder-turned-friend. Leading the young i.in to the Savior had been the highlight of Lela's year. Oh, Iwlit. in Mellie's eyes as she sat there in the grass, having 'pened her heart to Jesus! I'liank you, Lord, for planting all this in my heart," she I Tied. It had become very clear to her, the reason for Mei |.imes's arrival last week. She recalled the prayer she'd < make the advertising signs to rent her spare room. So I1 y,ood had happened because she had been willing, unafraid i inch out from her comfortable and familiar life. And with I i help she would continue to share the love of the Lord omewhat unexpectedly, she thought of little Joseph Martin. 238 Surely, the bright-eyed boy must be as lonely as he sounded lithe car, awful lost without his mother. 'Course, Lela would nut allow herself to become romantically involved with Paul meu lv for the sake of his son, no. But there was no harm in thinking about the boy. For how she loved children, and Joseph would certainly be easy to love, given his sweet manner and seeniiimh obedient ways. Who couldn't fall in love with a child like il> > I dren, as well as her other siblings. A growing number to be mm. yet she continued to remember each one with a crisp one-doll u bill on their birthdays, a tradition she'd started years ago wl" n her oldest brother's first baby was born. Yes, for one reason or another she was beginning to have % mighty good feeling about Paul's renewed affection for haf Didn't know precisely why that was, except that she'd given it over to the Lord. Now, it was up to Him to work His will .mi.I way in their lives. Mellie awakened with such an overwhelming urge to i .ill Ryan, she could scarcely think of anything else. But A\\>m Walsh's startling revelation continued to trouble her. Denny li.cl called back to say that Ryan had refused his phone calls. H :.ln wanted to hear the truth from his lips, she'd have to talk i.* Ryan herself. She had secretly wondered how any of it could I" true, though she mourned the statement as if it were. Her d.n ling on the side of evil? How could that be? All the endless days stretched ahead. The years interim , nably long and lonely. Having enjoyed Lela^s young nieces ;md j nephews so much, she entertained a strong desire to have a b;il >v of her own. With Ryan sharing her joy, the rebirth of tln-n union, perhaps. And for the first time in years, she longed in celebrate her actual birthday in the fall, in October, the monlli it ought to be observed. She reminisced of autumn's pungent flavors, of pumpkin carving, home-baked pies, and dried cornstalks propped up on 239A T D A R Y miiI porch, accompanied by a scarecrow or two. Christmas, Mmid followed. The best thing about Christmas, she de- i, wiis that it was forever predictable. The lovely sound of nm.il carols, the icy-sweet smell of falling snow, brightly nl packages beneath the tree, good will to men. Twigs of ;ieen decorating a window, where glowed a new, tiny spruce 14littering with frosty flakes and white lights their own ( Ihristmas tree, she recalled. Ryan had taken the tree outside i if day after Christmas and planted it in the backyard, where ilinued to thrive to this day. In* and Ryan painstakingly decorated their long dock each itt Lord's Point. Stringing strands of white lights along the they tied sprigs of greenery with red bows here and there, i parties were festive get-togethers. There was music and ing and good food, always catered. I low would Ryan celebrate this year? Or would he celebrate Hi' Knowing him as she did, she wondered if he'd feel so lost alone that he might merely endure Christmas. She ached tlu: thought of him missing her so. On the other hand, .iipH she didn't know the real Ryan James. Perhaps she never (.Had to have caught up a bit with her sewing, Lela dusted I ront room, going over the mantel with a damp rag. She 1.1 down each of the tiles surrounding the fireplace, singing "UH of praise. Carefully she dusted each shelf of her pine > ir cabinet, lifting out the various china cups and saucers. >ti of the nicest pieces she owned. Having given up the notion ' hope chest long ago, she had to smile at herself. Paul Marreturn to Lancaster certainly had stirred things up in her. I Hsmissing the thought, she decided to offer tea, along with nt* raisin bars she'd baked yesterday a recipe Elizabeth had ' i nd with her recently to the five ladies who would be corn- 240 ing this afternoon for the weekly Bible study. She couldn't help but hope that Mellie might join them, too. What a good time we'll have together, she thought, taking tin* dust rag outside and giving it a good shake. She was quite beside herself to see Paul Martin's car parked in front of her house, and here he came with a handful of red roses bobbing their heads as he made his way to the gate ami up the walkway. "I hope it's all right to drop by," he said, "jiml wanted to say hello again." He seemed slightly self-conscioiiH, glancing down at the flowers, then holding them out to her liki* a schoolboy. Their fragrance was so tempting, she leaned forward and breathed in their aroma before even greeting him. "Oh, they're lovely! Thank you, Paul." He stood tall and lean before her, his eyes enormous, their blueness astonishing. "May I talk with you, Lela?" he asked. She hesitated, glancing up the street, unsure of herself. At last, she said, "Come on around to the back. We'll sit on the porch." Placing the long-stemmed roses in a vase on the small table, she sat in her white wicker rocker. Paul found a spot in the cushioned settee. She wondered what had brought him here to her today, but she waited, hoping he'd strike up the conversation. "I hope you won't think it bold of me, but I'd like to tell you about my life . . . outside the Mennonite community the years I spent in Indiana, while I was married." She didn't reply to this at once but waited, her hand resting on the uneven wicker weave of the rocker. He waited, too, and after a little while, she said, "It must've been a bit difficult for you, so far from family and the church you'd grown up in." "That's not the half of it." He sighed, leaning forward for a moment, then back again. "I was warned not to marry my wife. More than a handful of folks said I'd live to regret it, leaving my Plain roots behind. My own mother said I ought to 'think twice about marrying an outsider.' " 241 Lela didn't know what to make of this. She was ever so uncomfortable hearing such things. She rubbed her hands ii'.iinst the arms of the rocker. Yet she had not the heart to stop 11 is face was earnest, eyes sincere. "My life changed radically i In- i lay I married. I did my best to make my wife happy, workini; Inird to give her the things she desired. To the best of my il 'ility, I loved her, yet nothing I ever did seemed good enough." Me paused, staring out across the yard toward the tall trees 11 ml formed a border between the gardens and the pastureland I yond. "When Joseph was born, our lives were taken up with -i new baby and all the extra duties required. Soon after his birth, my wife became seriously ill. I tended to both her and our son until the day she passed away." "I'm sorry things were so difficult." "Well, it seems I've been making mistakes all my life. God illowed me to follow my own path for a time. Thankfully, I Live my Joseph." Her heart went out to him, this man whom she'd loved so li'arly. "You've come through a dark tunnel, suffering so. But l< >seph is a wonderful child. God knew what would bring a smile i'i your face." Leaning forward, he covered her hand with his. "You always 1 new what to say to cheer me, didn't you?" She smiled. It was true. She'd known how to treat him spe- Pil, all right. His voice came softly then. "I've come to ask your forgivess, my dear Lela." "Oh, Paul, I forgave you a long time ago." He was still for a moment, then released her hand. "I've I n'cn praying about the second chance God has given me us I1 that meets with your approval." She gave him her most assuring smile, though she could not .,iy just now whether Melissa's staying on with her might possibly put any thoughts of romance on hold. 241 242& Dayid Lei 1 "Red roses stand for true love," Melissa told Lela wlirn she'd arranged the roses in a larger vase and placed them on 1 In kitchen table after Paul had departed. "Well, now, is that so?" Lela said. "Absolutely. Ask me about any rose color and its meaniup, My father taught me all about them." Even now, the thoui'hi of him both stung and sustained her. Like thoughts of her own true love. . . . Lela hurried about the kitchen, cleaning up from lunch, but Mellie could see the woman's gaze straying often to the rod roses. When the women arrived for the scheduled Thursday Bibll study, Lela felt nearly giddy with joy. Sadie Nan seemed t8 notice and came into the kitchen, eyeing the bouquet. "Did my brother happen to stop by today?" Lela was discreet after all, the other women were only 1 few steps away, visiting in the living room. "Well, now, what do you think?" "You mustn't play games with me." Sadie Nan scolded jokingly. "Aren't the roses from Paul?" Pulling her aside, Lela lowered her voice. "I had a most interesting visitor this morning." Sadie's eyes lit up. "Well, I do declare. When's the wedding?" "Let's not rush things, now, all right?" "What's to rush . . . you've got so many years to catch up on. Don't be waitin' too long, you hear?" Lela hugged Sadie Nan. "We just might get to be sisters after all." The other woman grinned. "I'd like that very much." Lela went back to pouring tea while Sadie Nan arranged the 243 ' iiniii bars on a plate. "Your boarder, Melissa, seems mighty liiinury for the things of the Lord." "Yes, she's just become a Christian. Yesterday evening, in . lit l u t, They talked briefly about how to include Mellie in their I lurch and community events. Yet Lela never once divulged " I m circumstances by which Melissa had come to Lancaster nunty. Neither did she say how the fancy Englischer's staying might actually put Paul's hopes and plans on hold. 245 L/>*'^- VAN TURNED HIS VEHICLE into the parking area of the Bnull motel, located several miles west of New London, and Billed to a stop in front of room #12. The place was a flat Bjiierete structure with the typical neon sign out front and a Bjmber of cars parked nearby. Not a trash motel, by any means, ^t a second-rate meeting place, to be sure. He sat for a moment, then grabbed the satchel containing Hi digital financial files and got out of the car. Quickly, he Blocked on the door. It opened slowly, revealing a tall, muscleB)imd man wearing a solemn expression. Behind him, two other Ben sat at a small table, their suit coats bulging from hidden Boulder holsters. B At the back of the musty room, another man emerged from Be bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. It was obvious to Byan who was in charge. The man approached him with a smile, Btending his hand. Nodding, he shook hands. Pleasantries Bemed pointless now. I The man introduced himself as McGuire. "You know, like Be baseball player," he said with a wink. He clasped his big Hinds together, as though eager to get started, gesturing to the table. "Have a seat." C )ne of the men locked the door, crossed his arms, and stood 246r i Beverly & David Lewis in front of it, legs spread, like a sentinel guard. The other imiv sat on the bed, across from them. Ryan eyed them nervouslyYou've seen one too many gangster flicks, pal, he thought. "Well . . . Mr. James," McGuire said once they were sea In I, the tone in his voice suddenly somber. "Where shall we begin i*" One of the many facets of morning, Melissa had realized in the past few days, was her ability to cling to that delicate interval of time between sleep and awakening. One could appeal to I In memory, relive a past precious moment at will. This day, slu longed to experience again the Christmases spent with Daddy at the Brownings' home in faraway Colorado. Through the niii.i of preawakening, the scenes burst into her brain like sleet skip ping against the pavement. ... Christmas was the smell of gingerbread cookies baking in the Brownings' kitchen, the tempting aroma of bacon, eggs, and sausage. Nearly every December twenty-fifth morning, Mel lie and her father were invited to share a mouth-watering brunch with their neighbors. And what a spread it was. The tangy smell of freshly peeled tangerines filled the house, even as Mellie en tered the Brownings' home, hand in hand with Daddy. They walked the snowy sidewalk that led from their house to their neighbors', only a short block away. Before ringing tin* doorbell and being greeted with "Merry Christmas!" Mellie liked to look for the lights in the front window. Mrs. Browning loved to decorate in a rather big way, putting up a small tree in each room of the house. All except the living room, where a tall spruce often dominated one corner. This tree captured Mellie's attention first and foremost Taller than Daddy, and most beautiful, it was decorated with ornaments illustrating Clement C. Moore's poem "The Nighl 247S A S C T U A R Y L tl'ore Christmas." Dancer, Prancer, a sleigh, and even tiny mice embellished the tree, nestled inside a large red drum. Mr. Browning pointed out the fact that each ornament was I'.iikI painted, and Mellie went over to inspect them, seeing if lie might someday mimic such pretty things for her own tree. \lter she'd married her Prince Charming and had her own little ImUHe, of course. Hut the large bouquet of white roses, sent over each year by ilttt florist from Daddy, was most often the topic of conversant in just before time to dive into the presents piled beneath Hut tree. Mrs. Browning always made a big to-do about thanking I "iiildy for his "generous and handsome gift." Mr. Browning I it I, too. I )addy winked at Mellie and pushed his nose into one of the Irgiint blossoms, breathing deeply of what he called "the perfect ivrfume." Mellie frequently followed suit, having to be boosted ip to the table to smell the sweetness. "Anyone remember what vliitc roses stand for?" Daddy said, a twinkle in his eye. "Secrets!" Mellie clapped her hands, eager to see what won'l*rful gifts lay in store. Each year her father repeated the same ritual. Mellie enjoyed the solid traditions, but given the chance, she would've chosen i bouquet of vel^ty red roses at Christmastime, or double redii id-white amaryllis blooms. Flowers with color made better '*rj8e on the Big Day. Yet Daddy insisted on the white roses, iin favorite. Plumping her pillow, Melissa decided that this Christmas ould be far different from those of the past. This year she "ould find her way to a church, where the organ played "O, 1 lome All Ye Faithful," and choirs sang "Joy to the World, the I .ord is come!" This year, she knew the joy of such a heavenly the past week, since Melissa had arrived on the scene, Elizabeth had hardly had a chance to pay her sister what was coming to her from the country store. I'll take her the money I owe her 252 L E W *T and some strawberry jam, too, she decided, thinking back to tlvinteresting birthday supper for Lela. She had a feeling there wsin most likely goin' to be a new member in the family, and might v soon at that. She'd seen the way Paul Martin looked in earni'Hl at her sister. Funny how the Lord God heavenly Father an. swered prayer, and sometimes so awful fast! Melissa strolled down the road, alone this time, past Th;ul deus and Elizabeth King's farmhouse, in a new direction. Allci the startling conversation the discovery made by Mrs. Brow ning she'd decided to go for a walk, taking Lela up on hn offer of a cotton summer dress. The hem of the dress nearly skimmed her ankles as she walked, and she began to feel sonic thing like a Plain woman herself. As though she were living in a haven of sorts, far removed from the troubles of modern life. Pondering the unearthing of her father's money, she recalled her previous phone conversation with Denny. He'd urged hei to trust the FBI. But trusting was difficult. Yet what choice did she have? Ivanov would find her again, in just a matter of time, She had to do something. A black-and-white warbler chirped his high-pitched solo, and Melissa smiled, glad for the distraction and for the way things had fallen into place so far today. She had spent the lunch hour over a hearty meal of apricot salad, ham loaf, and green beans, getting to know Lela even better. The woman was deli nitely in love, and Melissa was glad. Such a kind and carinu, person, Lela would surely be a good wife to Paul. Melissa hail thought often of the little boy, the widower's son. A more precocious child she had never encountered, but then, she hadn't had much opportunity to engage herself with children. Never in college, and certainly not at the florist shop in Mystic. Strangely enough, though, she could easily imagine herself caring for and raising children. Two, maybe, although Elizabeth 253 I ing made child rearing appear almost effortless. Something ill x ut the Plain style of living made hard work seem altogetheriiiilui al. The countryside had a calming effect on her. She enjoyed ' i y little wild flower, maidenhair fern, and tree along the way, I1 >< :;ky an appealing blue that reminded her of walks along the I .u h with Ryan and their golden retriever. She was glad to be alone. Lela had taught her, through word Hid deed, that a little solitude each day was essential to good In .ill.li and emotional well-being. Lela was big on having what In railed a "quiet time" each morning. "Too many people are ill.ml to be alone with their thoughts," Lela had said just this 'noming. "There's always something television, radio, family, mil friends vying for our attention, filling up the empty space, I rrping us from feeding our inner person." Melissa had never thought of it quite like that. Yes, she'd (j,rutted not having her mother growing up, yet she'd had Mrs. i owning. She'd hated the thought of her grandparents living i far away in Grand Junction, but they were only a phone call iwity. She'd suffered great loss, it was true, but in spite of her loneliness, she had never learned to feel completely comfortable villi herself. Until this day. The past and the future were elim- Hi.iled as she breathed in the fresh air, infused with the subtle null of alfalfa. Only the present remained as she talked to God, iln hrst real prayer she'd prayed since her experience on the I'.inks of the Conestoga River. "I'm not very good at this," she l'ri'..m. "But my friend Lela tells me that you listen and underi.uul, that you hear the heart's cry of your children. I'm glad .il iinit that, because my heart's rather torn up these days." She pi .ivcd that God might change the souls of men like Ivanov, and Ik- prayed for Ryan. "Help him find his way to you, Lord." Hut most important, she prayed for wisdom, as Lela put it I lelp me make the right decision." She felt a peculiar lightness in her step. Her eyes were once igain opened to the beauty around her. The euphoric flutter of 254 Beverly & Dayid Lewis a monarch butterfly caught her attention, and she walked moi. briskly, following its meandering path as it stopped to alight mi shell pink pasture roses that covered a small slope. She was awai. of the vivid, broad blossoms of the species roses, but she kq ii her gaze fixed on the butterfly's orange-brown wings, its him I veins and borders, missing her palette and brushes. Orchiinl orioles and vivid goldfinches darted here and there, from oiu tree to another, as she made her way up the narrow counti v road and she painted the picture in her memory instead. 254255 C-^**^*^*- -Jl 14*0- II IE PHONE RANG late in the afternoon, after Elizabeth had Iropped by for a short visit, bringing along peach and pineapple ptvuerves, as well as some money she owed Lela for her many I nil led pillow shams. Melissa was curled up on one of the sofas, reading Lela's Hi Me, when the jangle made her glance up as Lela scurried to 11ir kitchen. "Denlinger residence." Lela paused, listening for a moment, thai replied, "Who may I say is calling?" She came into the living room, eyes tqo wide, the phone cord trailing behind her. I A'la covered the receiver with her hand and whispered, "You have a phone call." "Who is it?" Melissa mouthed. "Your husband." A thousand questions spun through her mind, and renewed panic seized her. For a moment, she considered denying that she was here and bolting for the door. "What do you want to do?" Lela whispered, still holding I he phone. Finding courage, she said, "I'll talk to him." Lela's expression conveyed hesitancy, as if asking, Are yousure? 256 in it Melissa nodded, getting up, and taking the phone. "Hello, Ryan?" she said, a lump already forming in her throat. "Mellie, honey . . . are you okay?" "How did you know where to reach me?" "Sweetheart, you must listen to me " "Please, answer me, Ryan. How did you know where I wasr1" She looked at Lela, who was standing near, arms folded, even closed. She appeared to be praying. "The FBI," he replied softly. Melissa's breath caught in her throat, and she reached for n chair to sit down. "I don't understand. How can that be?" "There's been a huge mistake " "But. . . Agent Walsh said . . . no, don't do this, Ryan Please don't lie to me." Tears welled up, and she fought thr confusion and the fear. "Don't hang up. Let me explain." "I'm listening." "Melissa ... I work for the FBI as an informant. I'm on youi side," Ryan said. "My job was to help the government break Ivanov's network. That's why I couldn't tell you the truth be fore. But it's over now. Ivanov and his crowd don't trust me anymore. That's why he showed up at the restaurant in Mystic last week. He was making a final play for your father's stolen money." Her husband's explanation was, at best, astonishing. She struggled to understand. Even so, a new emotion surfaced. Hope. With all her heart she wanted to believe him. Was this the answer to her prayer on the road? "I want to believe you," she said, her voice trembling, her heart longing for assurance. "But how do I know you're tellinc, the truth?" "You simply have to trust me." "But I ..." She was more confused than ever. She breathed deeply, contemplating his words. "Mellie, I know everything about you and your past. This one time, you must trust me." 257 7 Tits one time . . . "But you lied to me, Ryan. If what you tell me is true . . . till those years ..." "I was sworn to secrecy. That's different, isn't it?" He i-i'iTied to have an answer for everything. But he was right on one count. She had never entrusted him > ith her deepest secret, and she'd made a terrible mistake, pan- i> king after seeing Ivanov at S&P Oyster Company. Now she it'll foolish. Her walls of suspicion were beginning to crumble. I've missed you, darling. I'm so sorry," she whispered. She heard him sigh. "I've missed you, Mellie. You have no "What do we do now?" "First of all, we stop this madness. These people will never he. satisfied until we settle the issue about the money. I know you don't know where it is, but " "No ... I do know, Ryan." A disturbing silence fell between them. Then "What did you say?" "I figured it out," she said. "My dad put the money in a >wiss bank account." "Do you have the account number?" "That, along with the code word." "Listen, Mellie, what's the nearest restaurant to you?" She turned to inquire of Lela. "The closest place is Best Western Eden Resort Inn," Lela imid, eyes serious. Relaying the information to her husband, Melissa felt nervous, yet excited about seeing him again. "Meet me in the parking lot there, tomorrow morning at ck-ven o'clock. An FBI agent will accompany me. From there we'll go to the bank and transfer the money to the government, p.i'l things squared away once and for all." She was glad he was taking charge of things. For too long nlu-'d carried her burdens alone. "I'll see you tomorrow." 258 "It's going to be okay, Mellie. This nightmare will soon U over. At last we'll be together, and no secrets between us any more." His voice was tender and sweet to her ears. "No secrets," she whispered. "I love you, Ryan." "I love you, sweetheart." She hung up the phone, her heart lighter than it had been in ever so long, she thought, lapsing into Lela's quaint speech, 1 259 &e> k!I)(JRAK7 fool!" bellowed Ivanov as both he and Ryan reBlaced their receivers. "Why didn't you get the account numer?" I Ryan looked surprised. "I thought she would suspect somePhing. I'll call her back if you wish." He reached for the phone ii^iin. "No," Ivanov spit out. "You're right." Then he paused, i (imposing himself. "That was quite the performance. You're a better liar than I thought you were." Sitting in the snivel chair, looking exhausted, Ryan leaned his elbows on the desk. Ivanov began pacing the floor, rehashing his plans. Tomorinw they'd meet up with Missy James and take her to a Philadelphia bank. There they would transfer the money, not to the federal government, as Ryan had told Melissa, but to Grand (layman and other offshore accounts hidden around the world, i )nce the money transfer was complete, he'd be on his way to I he Caribbean for a much needed rest. He had a penchant for hot, balmy weather. "Are we finished here?" Ryan asked rather impatiently. "Got a plane to catch?" 260 I Ryan regarded him coolly, then looked away. "Betrayal doesn't set well with you, does it?" Ivanov said feeling amused, and for one tantalizing moment, he visuali/i-J the look of terrified shock on both Ryan's and Melissa's f;ut when they discovered Ivanov's own treachery. He had no inten tion of letting them live, not once he extracted the money. ,\ two-for-one deal, he thought. I get both my revenge and the money "I'll get over it," Ryan replied. "Good man. You two can go on a second honeymoon when this is over. Plenty of time to charm your way back into her good graces," he said. Then he clapped his hands once loudly, rubbing them together. "Better get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow." Melissa waited outside, standing by her car in the parking lot of the Eden Resort Inn. She anticipated seeing her beloved again. So much so that she'd scarcely slept, too excited at the unexpected turn of events. At 10:55 she spotted Ryan's white SUV pulling into the parking lot. Catching a glimpse of him, her heart leaped up. She noticed the shadowy man in the backseat of the vehicle and assumed the FBI agent had come along, just as Ryan had said, Rushing to the parked vehicle, she opened the passenger door. "Ryan . . . darling!" He smiled tentatively, reaching for her as she jumped into the car. She snuggled next to him, returning his tender kisses, "I missed you so much," she whispered, tears blinding her. "1 thought I'd never see you again." She was startled by the sound of the car door slamming behind her. The FBI agent had gotten out and closed her door, Why? Confused, she turned toward the man, just as he slid into the backseat. 261 ^M "Miss me, too?" he replied, leering at her. ^M She nearly choked. "You?" Horrified, she turned back to H^n. "What's he doing here?" ^M Her husband's smile had faded. Yet something in his ex^HHion communicated compassion. "It's okay, Melissa. Let me plain.'1 ^J "You tricked me," she said, the truth sinking in. She grabbed ^m her door, pushing on the handle with all her strength. H Locked. H "Melissa . . . please." H She pushed again, to no avail. Now Ryan's hand was on her Moulder. She twitched in horror, and he quickly removed it. ^nen, slumping against the door, she closed her eyes, overcome Hth both grief and terror. Helpless . . . defeated, she prayed. Hkase, Lord, help me. Wr- Turning to Ryan, she unleashed her fury. "You said I could rrust you!" Ryan was silent, his eyes intense, yet empathetic. "We're wasting time here," the man grumbled in the backi at. "I'll take the account number and the code word." She stared at Ryan. "So . . . it's all about the money?" she Uurted. "For that you betrayed me?" Ryan shook his head. "You don't understand " "The number, please!" the man behind her roared. Angrily, she shot him an icy look. "It's up here." She tapped lii>r forehead. Reaching into his coat, Ivanov withdrew a pocket-size notebook and tossed it over the front seat. "Write it down," he lurked. "And if I won't?" "You should know the answer to that," Ivanov replied, his i1, reedy eyes dancing with confidence. She studied him, despicable man that he was. "And lose your precious money forever? I don't think so." 262 Ryan looked over his shoulder at Ivanov. "I'll handle this," "By all means, work your magic." Ryan reached for her hand, but she withdrew again. "Please, just do as he says, Mellie." She glared at Ryan. "All he wants is the money. Then we can be together again," Ryan reiterated. She shook her head, her rage out of control. "No matter what happens, it's over between us." Ryan flinched as if she'd slapped him in the face. Ivanov asked again for the bank number, but she refused. "Listen, Missy, I call the shots here." Ivanov pulled hin jacket away from his chest area, exposing his gun holster. "I've had enough of your games, young lady. I'm willing to gamble that deep down you still love your husband. So ... how would you like to become a very young widow?" There was a flicker of fear in her husband's eyes. Relenting, she took her pen and began to write the account number on the small notebook. Finished, she handed it over to Ivanov. "How do you know I didn't just make up a number?" "Melissa " Ryan said. "No, that's a very good question," Ivanov said. "Which \n why we're all going to the Philadelphia bank together. Anything goes wrong the account number's false and I'm the instant owner of waterfront property. Follow me?" She stared back at the monster. How can this be happening? He kept it up. "When the wire transfer is complete, you go your merry way, with or without your husband. It's no concern of mine." To Ryan, Ivanov snapped, "Get moving." She couldn't help keeping her eyes on Ryan as he pulled out of the parking lot. His gaze, however, was on the road. Silence fell over the car as they drove out of the parking lot. Melissa prayed from her heart, Lord, I trust you. 263A J C T When they reached the outskirts of Philadelphia, Ryan i n.icie a turn onto 1-76, heading south. Within minutes they were in the congested downtown area. Ryan pulled into a parking i'..irage connected to a bank, removing the parking ticket from iIn' machine as they passed the entrance into a labyrinth of in- u'usingly darker levels. Melissa grew more nervous as Ryan pulled into an available pace near the elevator. "All right, you lovebirds, it's show time. We're getting out >l the car and going inside," Ivanov said, glowering at Melissa. "Without drawing attention to ourselves. Catch my drift?" Ivanov pulled the handle and kicked his door open. Once lit, he opened her door. Ryan emerged from his side, and the iliree of them walked toward the elevator doors, Ivanov taking up the rear, glancing about the parking lot. They were alone, ''(conds before the elevator opened, Ivanov grabbed Melissa by I lie shirt and shoved her against the concrete wall. "Lord, help me!" she whispered sharply, catching her 1 Heath. "Hey, easy!" Ryan yelled. Ivanov shot him a loathsome look. Melissa caught Ryan's eye and saw deep concern etched in his face. Ivanov leaned close in her, his repulsive breath overpowering. "Anything happens m there, and Ryan doesn't walk out. . . ." "I know what you're capable of," she said, looking at Ryan n>;ain. The muscles in her husband's jaw twitched. He returned lu:r gaze but remained sadly silent. "That's right. You would know," Ivanov taunted. "Your i Inddy made some very poor decisions. Wouldn't advise you to make the same mistake." "You're not half the man my father was," she murmured. Ivanov laughed at her comment. "Maybe. But I'm alive." 263 264& David Lewis He released her, removed his cell phone from his coat pockeI, and punched in some numbers. "Yeah, we're here. Meet us ,ii the fourth-floor elevator." Ivanov hung up, gesturing to the open elevator. The doom swallowed them with a swish, and they soared to the fourth flooi She noticed the marblelike floors with low-growing plants it^ lovely urns and the occasional hibiscus tree in various corneruJAll fake, she thought. It's all a faqade. I A man who appeared to be a bank officer arrived as thoJB entered the hallway. His face turned ashen when he spotted lvu l nov. "What are you doing here?" I "I'm handling this one myself. Too much on the line," Iva< nov said. m Was he referring to the men who normally handled his crim4 inal transactions? Melissa wondered. I The officer turned to face Ryan and Melissa, obviously scni-l tinizing them. "Relax," Ivanov muttered to him. "They're witlll me. I Melissa caught the knowing exchange between the bank of-1 fleer and Ivanov. Why would Ivanov allow her to witness this I event? Unless ... I She dreaded the answer, knowing she was in grave danger, "Follow me," the man replied, evidently peeved at Ivanov'n indiscretion. ! Ivanov grabbed Melissa's arm, and she and Ryan were led through an office area. Dozens of bank employees worked at well-polished desks. Unsuspecting souls. They were ushered down a short hallway, then into a small windowless room. A lone computer perched on an executive desk. Several chairs lined the walls. Numerous wires ran from the computer to the right wall. Ivanov closed the door. Melissa made a quick assessment of the situation and realized that her escape options were limited. This was to be the location of the money transfer. "Have a seat," Ivanov ordered. 265I C T U A R Y Ryan took the chair next to her. "Are you all right?" he hUpered. It was a little late for caring. "I think he's going to kill me," In* said softly. "Quiet!" Ivanov bellowed, causing the bank officer to jolt in I mm seat. He grabbed a chair near the wall and pulled it over to I1 it* desk, where he was able to oversee the phone call to Switii land. After a brief conversation, the officer recited the code word iiul account number she'd given to Ivanov. Moments later, the I Miik officer acknowledged, "The information is correct. They'll ii.insfer the funds immediately." Ivanov gave Melissa a look that said, Lucky for you. Then lie reached into his pocket and withdrew another piece of paper. Transfer the money to this account," he ordered the officer. "( Hhers will disburse it from there." The man in uniform glanced at Ivanov's paper and nodded. The room fell silent except for the click of computer keys as I he numbers were entered. A second bank officer opened the loor and walked in. Ivanov whirled in his chair, a puzzled look in his face. "Gerald, I'm sorry to interrupt," said the second niployee. "Can you take a moment to sign something for me?" The officer rrfaking the transfer for Ivanov kept his focus on Hie screen. "Later. I'm busy at the moment." Suddenly, six other men barged into the room, guns drawn. T'BI! Freeze, Ivanov! Don't move!" In the midst of the melee, Melissa dove off her chair just as iiomcone wrestled Ivanov to the ground. Three men restrained hi in, removing his gun and cuffing his wrists. Stunned, she saw that Ryan was also being seized by two i ncn who pinned his arms, shoving one high behind his back. Sin- turned away, unable to watch. "Are you okay?" a woman agent asked. "Let's get you out ul here." She pulled Melissa quickly to her feet, taking her arm ind guiding her toward the door. 265 266 Once safely in the hallway, she looked over her shoulder. Ivanov, his eyes flaring with fury, was being led away toward the elevators by half a dozen FBI agents. "Come with me," the woman agent said, but Melissa resisted momentarily, watching as Ryan was also ushered away, For an excruciating moment, his eyes found hers, and a curiouH look of relief veiled his countenance. Then he was escorted down the hallway the same direction that Ivanov had been taken. "Are you ready?" the agent asked. Tearfully, Melissa nodded, unable to speak. She submitted, turning her back on the sad scene. The two agents flanking Ryan led him to a waiting vehicle. Ivanov, too, was being taken to a car, although a different one, parked directly in front of them. At one point, Ivanov turned and glowered at his captors. "I'll be out on the street by tonight. You have nothing." But the agent shoved Ivanov into the backseat, cutting short his diatribe "Watch your head," one of the agents told Ryan as Inducked and lowered himself into the car. The door closed firmly behind him, and two well-dressed men slid into the front seat. They pulled out of the bank parking lot onto the main streel, which by now was filled with hundreds of spectators observing the commotion. Ryan lowered his head as the car maneuvered through the narrow streets. Choosing to shut out the thrill-seeking crowds, Ryan's thoughts were of Melissa and her alone. He recalled the pain in her eyes as she had been confronted with his betrayal. As long as he lived, he would never forget the look of disbelief on her face. The car was void of all conversation as they drove past City Hall to Market Street, heading toward 1-95. Several miles outside of Trenton, New Jersey, the driver pulled onto a side road and followed it for several miles to a deserted park. Veering right, they drove several more yards, stopping beside another dark sedan. 267 The driver turned and smiled at Ryan. "Tired of the cuffs?" tlit- agent got out of the car and opened Ryan's door. He fumI ilril with the key to the handcuffs and unlocked them. "Better?" "Much." Ryan got out of the car, rubbing his sore wrists. The back door of the sedan opened. A man in a dark suit Uiil out, adjusting his tie. Then the front passenger door opened, rtiul another man stepped out into the sunshine. It was McGuire. FBI Special Agent in Charge McGuire. lie walked over, extending his hand to Ryan. "I followed I In* whole thing on the radio. Excellent work." Ryan shook hands, but he didn't share McGuire's obvious niumph. McGuire introduced his passenger as Agent Walsh ilh Organized Crime. Walsh and Ryan exchanged nods. "How're you feeling? A little shaken up?" McGuire asked. "How's Melissa?" Ryan asked. "She's headed back to the Denlinger home. Want me to get ln r on the phone?" Ryan considered this but did not relish the entire FBI force luilcning in. "I'll talk to her later." McGuire shrugged. "She'll be told everything that you had no choice in being a part of the sting." "T betrayed my wife," Ryan replied. "We never gave her a < lioice. She was terrified." Walsh spoke for the first time. "We needed her participa( hin. You know yourself she wouldn't have played the game willingly." "It was a judgment call for the good of the country and for her own personal safety," McGuire chimed in. "Ivanov will ni-vcr bother her again. Not only that, but because of you and K lelissa, we caught the men on the other end of the wire transfer. I he entire network is sunk. We recovered nearly half a billion ilnllars. Once we threaten Ivanov with extradition, he'll turn on Ihh Russian buddies in a heartbeat." "Just like that?" Ryan struggled to comprehend. McGuire smiled wryly. "These boys aren't the Italian Ma- 268 fia brotherhood, honor, loyalty, all that good stuff. Believe me, at this point, Ivanov will say or do anything to avoid going back to Russia. Even betraying his friends and family." "Any evidence of... compromised agents?" Ryan asked. McGuire laughed. "Like I said before, Ivanov was bluffing Sure, we're investigating, but keep in mind, it's almost impos sible to bribe an FBI agent." "And my parents ?" "Safe and sound. Another one of Ivanov's bluffs." "What about Bernie?" McGuire's expression changed. "We picked him up this a I ternoon. No resistance. He was resigned to his fate. If he sinj,>M a pretty tune, I'll recommend leniency." "Just take me home," Ryan said. "Whatever you say, partner." McGuire patted him on the shoulder as the three of them headed back to their cars. Ryan's assigned driver, Special Agent Carlson, turned off the main highway, heading into Lord's Point. The car slowed as the road curved around toward the shoreline, then pulled into the driveway of the waterfront property. He gazed at the beautiful house and surrounding acreage. No longer did any of it beloni; to him. In exchange for agreeing to testify in court, the governmenl promised not to prosecute him for his complicity in money laun dering and insider-trading crimes. Part of the deal included the forfeiture of his house and bank accounts everything except for a few personal belongings. All in exchange for his freedom. But freedom in itself held little appeal. Money and the possessions it afforded had lont>, since ceased to interest him. Life without Melissa was hardly worth living. By now she would know the truth about him, that he'd 269 11 irned a blind eye to the shady dealings of his company. That in* had not been an informant for years, as he'd told her on the phone. He'd merely made a quick deal to save his own skin. On lop of everything, he had tricked her into participating in a danH trous sting. "No matter what happens, it's over between us." Her words KUhoed in his mind, spoken in the motel parking lot in Lancaster Oounty in the midst of his "betrayal." Agent Carlson parked the car, and Ryan led the way into ihe house. Tonight he was scheduled to sleep at a city hotel, where the FBI could keep an eye on him. Tomorrow a moving van would haul away the remainder of his personal effects. Prenumably, Melissa would have the same opportunity to sort out her belongings. Where he would ultimately reside, he had no clue. The FBI WiiK calling the shots now. They would select his next home and Iuh new identity, until he was to be called to trial. While most informants were held in jail awaiting trial, Ryan was an exceplion. As the government's star witness, he was to be held under house guard. Once the trial was over, he would be given the Itvedom to resume a normal life again. As usual, Daisy was waiting just inside the front door. Carl cm bent down to pet the golden retriever. "Good-looking dog." Ryan said nothing, relieved that Daisy would be shipped out to his parents. "How long will you be?" Carlson asked. "A few minutes." He looked around the room, seeing only dintant memories. How quickly things had changed in the space of a week. He regarded the wilting lavender roses he'd purchased for his wife and considered throwing them away. Dismissing the thought, he left them on the counter. Hurrying upstairs, he packed a large suitcase full of clothes uiul a smaller one for toiletry items. When he was finished, he wiindered down the hall to the guest room, noting the empty Npaee on the wall where Mellie's painting for Denny had hung. 269 270 The Cross painting, as Denny had so aptly termed it. The vacant wall space seemed forsaken. He glanced at the bedside table, noticing the book Mete Christianity. Denny's doing. He reached for the book, decidiinto pack it, as well. I'm going to have plenty of time on my hands, he thought, returning to the bedroom. Picking up his suitcase;., he lugged them downstairs, where Agent Carlson stood as il guarding the front door. 271J-fviwy jLxyuA' i ,'LIMBING THE STAIRS at Lela's for one last time, Melissa kit both emancipated and miserable all wrapped up in one contusing emotion. Her FBI escort, now waiting on the front porch, I Hid assured her that Ivanov was behind bars. She was safe at iiiat. At some point she would be free to live her own life. After I he trial whenever that might be. She looked forward, with all eagerness, to flying to Colorado, where she hoped to renew her bonds with dear Mrs. Browning. Vet feelings of depression swept over her each time she thought <>i Ryan. Or recalled how he'd tricked her. Betrayed her. "I hope I cafi keep in touch with you," she told Lela, paying up on the rent she owed, grateful once again for the comfort and u rcnity of the Mennonite cottage. Melissa knew now that the I ,ord had guided her steps, bringing her to the godly woman's home. "And thank you, Lela, for the Bible. I will treasure it, I1 uly." Lela nodded, touching her arm. "Rest assured, you're in < loci's safekeeping, Mellie. Remember that always." She clasped the woman's hand. "Thank you for leading me In your God." Lela's eyes were bright with tears. "He's yours, too. You are t child of the Father, to be sure." 272& David Lewis She embraced the Plain woman quickly, then "If for any reason you don't hear from me for a while, don't worry, all right?" "You're in good hands. I know that." With that, they said fond farewells, and Melissa joined the agent waiting patiently outside. They stood gawking at the old shed in the dim light of early evening, wondering what on earth they'd do with an abandoned automobile. Beyond, in the two-story bank barn, one of the cowh let out a low moan, weary of the day. Crickets burst forth with their timpani at dusk, mingling their sounds with the hum ol katydids and other summer insects vying for solo time. "I daresay we're stuck with four wheels and nary a key to start it up," Thaddeus said, taking his straw hat off and scratch ing the back of his head. Elizabeth clucked a little. "Now why wouldja be thinkin' thataway?" she asked. "You aren't planning to take a little drive around the farm, now, are you?" "Well, now, I think you oughta know your husband better'n that." He pulled her close, planting a kiss on her lips. Both laughing now, Elizabeth asked, "Why do you think Lela's guest had to up and leave so awful fast, for goodness' sake?" "Says Lela, she had important business to be tendin' to." "Must be mighty important." She couldn't imagine leaving behind something that must've cost a pretty penny. Not at all. "Maybe Paul Martin can teach Lela to drive it... someday," she added. "Could be that he will." Thaddeus had a right nice smile on his face. "Might be just the thing to get 'em close, you know. Teachin' a lady to drive, well now, that just might be the best idea we've had in a gut long time." 273 "I doubt Paul needs an excuse to get close to my sister," Klizabeth replied. "He seems ready to pick up the pieces, right where he left them so long ago." Hurrying back to the house, she checked on her cabbage chowder. Thank you, Lord, for this beautiful day, and for the folk who cross our paths, she prayed silently as she and Mary Jane set I he table. Ryan tossed his bags onto the queen-sized bed of the motel loom. Agent Carlson looked in momentarily through the open loor. "If you need anything, I'm in the next room." Ryan nodded, then scanned the sparsely furnished room. I'here was a TV in the far corner, a small table and two chairs near the window, a large dresser opposite the bed. His home for 11 ic night, perhaps longer. He sat on the edge of the bed and nibbed his weary eyes. The phone rang and he reached for it cautiously. "Hello?" It was McGuire calling to outline tomorrow's schedule. "You have a decision to make," he said. "You and the missus .ire you going together or parting ways?" Ryan didn't know the answer to that. "She's not a? the Denlinger home anymore," McGuire replied. "I'll have her call you. Let me know tomorrow what you I wo decide." Ryan hung up, closed his eyes tightly, and tried to calm his ilill-taut nerves. Disjointed images of the day played through his mind. Ivanov's predatory eyes seemed to follow him everywhere those little oval slits of evil, frenzied and desperate with l he prospect of recovering "his" money. Since the moment he'd seen Melissa again, Ryan had been deathly afraid that Ivanov would discover his duplicity and exi( ule vengeance on both of them long before they reached the I Milk. The tension from that anxiety continued to reverberate. 274 But most persistent was Melissa's tortured expression of disbr lief. From a legal standpoint, Ryan had finally done the rii>hl thing by turning informant. The network had been crushed in one fell swoop, the money confiscated. The sting would go down as one of the biggest busts in organized crime. Yet the knowl edge of it offered him scant comfort. After three years of har boring a deep dark secret, Melissa had finally trusted him implicitly. And how had he rewarded her? With deception and betrayal. Feelings of despondency overtook him as he grabbed his luggage, unzipping the side pocket where he'd placed the book from Denny. Intending to simply pass a few hours, he paged !.<> the first chapter: The Law of Human Nature the theme of his last religious discussion with Denny. It was after eleven o'clock when Ryan closed the book and dropped it on the mattress next to him. The room was poorly illuminated by a single lamp on the nightstand beside the too silent phone. He got up and stretched his legs, walking over to the win dow. The beige curtains were tainted by the faint smell of cit> arette smoke. Outside, the motel parking lot was half filled with cars and trucks, families on vacation, businessmen eager to get home. A small breeze through the screened window fluttered the curtains, bringing in the scent of impending autumn. In only a few hours he had managed to read more than hal I of Mere Christianity enough to know he was on the brink of something new. He'd expected Lewis's arguments on the subject to border on the ridiculous. Instead, the author presented flawless evidence for the truth of Christianity. The premise not only made sense but was intellectually compelling. But Ryan questioned his own judgement. After today's emotional events he was obviously vulnerable. Ryan turned from the window, leaning against the sill. He stared at the phone before picking it up and dialing the number 275 he knew by memory. It was just after nine o'clock in Denver, (Colorado. Two rings, then: "Hello?" "Hey, preacher man." Denny chuckled. "Well, howdy stranger. You finally called I mck." "Sorry, Den." "You okay, man?" Ryan leaned back on the pillow and began to tell Denny all that had recently transpired. Denny listened, interrupting only lo ask for clarification. When Ryan finished, Denny was initially iitlent, as if formulating his response. "Melissa called me," Denny finally said, his tone serious. "Couple days ago. She needed . . . some advice." Ryan considered Denny's revelation, wishing Melissa might have called him. "I guess I really blew it with her." Then changing the subject, he said, "I just read the book you left, most of it anyway." "Yeah, what'd you think?" "It's . . . actually convincing. But . . . considering everything, I'm obviously not thinking straight tonight. I need time to think things through." "Maybe you'rethinking clearly for the first time in your life." "C'mon, Denny, it's a cliche: Local man loses home, money, and wife. Gets religion. Sound suspect?" "Maybe. But then again, that could be a good place to start. Not to sound glib, but sometimes the bad things in our lives serve as catalysts to wake us up. After all, the atheist in the l(>xhole turns to God because his life has suddenly been reduced Lo the bare essentials." Ryan chuckled to himself. Same old Denny Preacher Man. "Well, I wanted you to know you won't be hearing from me for a while. Not until the trial's over." "Bummer. So who's gonna be the best man in my wedding?" 275 276 AVID LEW "You're getting married?" "You don't have to act so surprised " "I didn't say anything," Ryan protested. "I heard it in your tone." "You know ... if you need someone to stand up with you, Daisy's always available. You two got along pretty well. In fact, you both shared something very deep and meaningful." "Okay, this better be good. What deep and meaningful ex perience did I share with your dog?" "Sausage and bacon, of course. Not to mention fried eggs." Denny chuckled. "You're absolutely right. Greasy food is ;i deep and meaningful experience. Guaranteed to create bonds ol friendship that last a lifetime. But I gotta tell you, Ryan, you don't sound like an atheist in a foxhole, anymore. You sound kinda chipper, in fact." "Just needed a buddy-fix." They bantered another few minutes before Ryan said good bye, promising to visit the newly weds when he had a chance, But his buoyed spirits sank the moment he hung up and looked about the cramped and stale-smelling motel room. Sighing, he looked back at the phone. The message light was as dim as the room. Melissa still hadn't called. As the reality of the past few days set in again, a rush ol silence seemed to inhabit the darkness of the room like a wind filling a vacuum. Accompanying the feeling of emptiness and isolation was the renewed sense of struggle. As if a war were being played out in his mind, tugging at the opposing sides ol his reason, battling for control. Despite his apprehension con cerning Melissa, he realized he had a decision to make. "Maybe you're thinking clearly for the first time ..." Denny had said. Raking his hand through his hair, he recalled C. S. Lewis's succinct explanation of the human condition. Earlier he and Denny had discussed the nature of evil as a mere philosophical theory. But coming face to face with evil incarnate in the form of an evil man was a whole new ball game. 277 If complete and utter evil could exist in the form of a human I icing like Ivanov, surely goodness, on a far greater level, could also exist in the form of God. In light of Ryan's recent experience, "depravity of man" was the only logical explanation for mankind's Hiiffering and misfortune, a bad-to-the-bone wickedness that is beyond the reach of sheer education or human enlightenment. The irony was that in the end, Ivanov himself was Ryan's proof of man's depravity. But a sudden realization sent cold uhivers down his back, accompanied with a deeper feeling of remorse: Ivanov we're not so different, you and I. Slipping to the floor, he knelt, overwhelmed with a need for rei lemption unknowable to his human reasoning, longing for the forgiveness of his sin yet beset with a lifetime of skepticism. A phrase ran through his mind where had he heard it? and he embraced it as his own: Lord, I do believe . . . help my unbelief. Faltering, he prayed, a man at the end of his rope. Tears of anguish and sorrow followed. Eventually all inner resistance melted away, and he experienced something new. Something that until this moment he had only heard about but had never accepted as reality. Rest for his weary soul. The morning sun flickered through the curtains as Ryan tossed the last remaining items into his overnight bag and zipped it shut. Agent Carlson was waiting in the downstairs lobby. One more meeting with McGuire. When the phone rang, he turned, staring at it. After a solid week of waiting, there was no doubt in his mind. The caller was Melissa. Filled with apprehension, he realized anew that his wife might never forgive him. He'd have to make peace with that someday. Either way, this was the moment of truth. He dropped his bags on the floor and picked up the phone. 279- . J%Ll- THE SUNSET SEEMED TO LINGER longer than usual as Melissa made her way barefoot over the well-known ridge to Napatree Beach. Sighing with relief, she wondered how the sun would look as it set tonight. A spectacular array of color? Or a nmtle whisper of muted tones, like the still lifes she favored? Breathing hard, she made her way to the promontory, that high area where the point reached out like a finger into the water In-low. Angling up to the crest, she stood there scanning the shoreline, thankful to be here. With scarcely a breeze stirring, I he pre-twilight atmosphere was still. Occasional clouds dappled I he line separating*"sky and sea. The sun had a few more fluid minutes before it dipped into the deep, flinging its molten rays wildly into a burst of breathtaking hues. Few beachcombers were left. Three or four seemed content to roam the wet sand, scavenging for shells and other debris. One girl had a burlap satchel thrown over her shoulder, filled, no doubt, with sea treasures. Melissa's gaze focused on the very tip of the jetty, where large rocks were stacked to create a manmade dock of sorts. Shielding her eyes from the sun as it plunged toward the ocean, she could see the figure of a man sitting there facing the horizon. It was Ryan, precisely where they had arranged to meet, his 280 a y i d Lewi hands folded in a contemplative fashion. She felt a pounding in her head, matching the sound of the waters beyond, as she watched him, this man, seemingly a stranger, even though it had been scarcely more than a week since her frantic escape. So much had happened since then. Events from which many married couples never recover. She smiled to herself. But they weren't just any couple. After Agent McGuire's explanation of yesterday's events, Melissa had needed time to think. And to pray. Slowly, carefully, she picked her way over the boulders, careful not to slip. Somewhere on the sandy hill behind them, FBI agents hovered near, watching like a sturdy angelic guard. Just as she reached the end of the pier, the sun dipped past the horizon, shooting out sprays of purple and gold. Ryan turned as if on cue, hope reflected in his eyes, delight in his smile. Three years ago she had promised to love and cherish this man. She would keep her word. "Mellie," he whispered, gathering her into his arms. Safe in the protection of his tender embrace, she felt the promise of a new beginning as husband and wife, under God. 281I With sincere gratitude we wish to acknowledge our editors, H.irb Lilland, Anne Severance, and Carol Johnson, as well as the i-i litorial staff and marketing team at Bethany House Publishers. ( >ur special thanks to Clyde and Susan Gordon who cheerfully .insisted with regional research, and to Dale and Barbara Birch who proofread the manuscript. The "wonderful-gut" help we cleaned from our Plain friends and contacts made all the differt-nce. We treasure the ongoing prayers of our family and friends, including John Henderson who kept us in stitches throughout I he writing process. Many thanks to the faithful readers who i iffered thoughtful words of encouragement and love.