The woman he had married was none of the things she had pretended to be.
From behind him, Ben heard Nancy set her coffee cup down on the saucer. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I always thought you knew. Maggie told us you were…”
Ben spun around, hot anger coursing through his veins. “The father?” He turned back toward the window. “Don’t believe it, Nancy. That was a lie, like a lot of other things Maggie said back then.”
“So…the baby wasn’t yours? You’re sure?”
Ben clenched his fists and faced the older woman once more. This time he returned to the overstuffed chair and sat perched on the edge, his gaze leveled at her. “Maggie and I waited until we were married to become…intimate. There is no way on earth that baby was mine.”
Shock settled over Nancy’s features and then sorrow. “It all makes sense, then.”
Ben was too angry to care. He dug his elbows into his knees and planted his head in his hands. “How could she lie about that? Make me believe she was a virgin? Keep me in the dark about this for eight years?” His voice was seething with rage and when he fell silent, Nancy cleared her throat.
“I don’t know the answers to your questions, Ben, and maybe this is none of my business. But you’re here, and I believe the Lord would have me say this. Maggie agonized over giving that baby up for adoption. When we talked about it, the only thing she would say was that the two of you weren’t ready for children yet. She loved that baby, but clearly she loved you more.”
What was this now? Was Nancy fighting Maggie’s cause for her? How could anyone calling herself a Christian defend Maggie’s decision to sleep with a man like John McFadden, to lie about the fact, and then to give her child up for adoption all to marry another man. And all under the guise of false virginity?
It was an indefensible crime.
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God…forgive, My son, forgive.?
Ben squeezed his eyes shut. This was no time for Scripture. He’d just been dealt the most devastating blow of his life. Everything about the past eight years, the woman he’d married and all she’d represented, had been a lie. All might have fallen short, but what Maggie had done crossed a line, and Ben wasn’t about to forgive her. His heart filled with the image of Maggie in her wedding dress, her eyes aglow.
How could she have…?
His emotions warred within him, and he knew that the undying love he’d felt for her the day before was now rivaled only by the intensity of his hatred.
When Ben remained silent, Nancy continued. “Do you blame her?”
For an instant he started to raise his voice, then he remembered that Nancy wasn’t his enemy. Maggie was. “Of course, I blame her. This is all about her.”
Nancy settled back into the sofa and leveled a curious gaze at him. “Listen to you, Ben. You’re furious with her. If this is how you react now—with your wife suffering a breakdown at a psychiatric hospital—perhaps she felt she had no choice but to lie to you back then.”
Ben glared at Nancy. “With all due respect, Nancy, you don’t know the whole story. Maggie did more than tell a simple lie. She slept with an awful man, got pregnant, gave the baby up for adoption, and never told me a word of it.”
Nancy was silent, but there was a maddening calm and compassion in her eyes—feelings Ben was certain were not derived from any pity for him. The woman was sympathizing with Maggie!
Why couldn’t she understand Maggie’s fault in this? “Oh, never mind. You don’t understand.” Ben stood to leave. “Listen, I gotta get out of here and do some thinking, get a hotel or something.”
The woman remained seated and said nothing.
“Thanks for your time.” Ben moved quickly across the room and was halfway out the front door, when she spoke up.
“Ben?”
He paused, tempted to ignore her, to leave and never look back, to forget everything she’d said…or that he was ever married to a woman named Maggie in the first place.
His insides seemed to be deflating and his sense of balance was off. How could she? All those years of marriage and never, not once, did she tell me the truth! And then her boyfriend nearly killed me—
He turned and stepped backward into the Taylors’ front room. With his back to Nancy, he braced himself against the door frame. “Why?” He shouted the word and it hung in the air. Struggling to find his composure once more, he turned abruptly and found Nancy still on the sofa, her watery eyes locked on his.
“Listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you, Ben. I don’t know if it’ll make a difference between you and Maggie, but maybe it’ll help you understand.”
Ben didn’t know what to do, what to feel. I don’t want to listen; I need to think, Lord. Get me as far away from this as…as…it can’t be true, Lord. No…not my Maggie!
His blood was hot with the intensity of his anger. The muscles in his hand twitched and he craved the relief of crashing his fist through a wall. Anything to relieve the rage and sorrow that warred in his heart. Helpless to act on any of these feelings, he stood motionless, his shoulders slumped, utter defeat washing over him.
Nancy continued. “In this world there is no shortage of phonies, of people who come at you with one line or another never intending to make good on their word. Maggie wasn’t one of those. She never could have been. Maggie Johnson was a scared young woman desperately in love with you. And in the midst of the most terrifying time in her life, she made a decision to give her baby up for adoption—from the sounds of it, the only baby Maggie’s ever had—all because of her love for you.”
Nancy wiped an errant tear off her cheek and cleared her throat. “But Maggie couldn’t live a lie like that forever. So gradually, year after year, the truth must have been eating away at her. Not only the truth about the lies she told you, but the truth about her baby, that she gave that child up when everything in her screamed not to do so.”
Ben closed his eyes and crossed his arms; the woman was romanticizing the entire situation. There was nothing sentimental about what Maggie had done. She had lied, plain and simple, and then lived that lie every day for too many years. She was no longer someone Ben could—
“I don’t know what thoughts are rambling through that self-righteous head of yours, Ben, and forgive me for being so forward. But in a world full of people who say what they want, when they want, and never look back, Maggie is genuine. The fact that she’s lived these past years never knowing her child’s love, never certain of that baby’s welfare, never telling you the truth about her past—those facts have obviously become more than she can bear.”
Ben raised his head and stared at Nancy. “The whole thing could have been solved up front—” he pushed the words out through clenched teeth—“if only she’d been honest with me. Don’t you see that? Maggie’s right. We have no marriage now because I can’t be married to someone I don’t know. And this…this Maggie who would do these things…is someone I don’t know at all.”
Nancy sat back into the sofa and cocked her head thoughtfully. “Is that right? A Maggie who would go to whatever extremes necessary to win your love? You don’t recognize that woman?”
Ben sighed. Nancy was twisting everything around. It wasn’t only the lies Maggie had told. It was the reality. The fact that she’d been with another man—a man like John McFadden—before they were married. It was something Ben couldn’t stomach even if he—
“Ask yourself this, Ben. Would you have married Maggie if she’d told you the truth? Would you have married her if she’d confessed she wasn’t a virgin on your wedding night?”
Ben twisted his face in confusion. “I don’t know…I’d saved myself for Maggie, and she was supposed to do the same thing. I always thought I’d marry a—”
“A virgin.” Nancy finished his sentence. “Exactly.” She paused a moment and studied Ben through disappointed eyes. When she spoke again her voice was barely more than a whisper. “And you wonder why she lied?”
Forgive, My
son, as I have forgiven you…
No, Lord, I don’t want to. None of this was how I planned it and now my whole life is ruined, changed forever—
For I know the plans I have for you…plans to give you a hope and a future and not to harm you.
Ben pushed out the quiet whisperings in his soul so that he could think about his next step. Where in the world did he go from here? Should he call Maggie and tell her he knew the truth? Tell her he was in agreement with her plans for a quick divorce? Maybe initiate the proceedings himself before—
“I’ll be right back.” Nancy stood and slipped into the kitchen. When she returned she handed Ben two white envelopes. One looked slightly yellowed, as though it had been sealed years earlier. The other was bright and new. “I think you should have these before you go, in case I never see you again.”
His anger subsided briefly as he studied the envelopes. “What’s this?”
Nancy pointed to the older envelope. “That’s a letter I wrote Maggie years ago when my husband died. I didn’t know where to send it so I held on to it.”
Ben was confused. What was he supposed to do with it? Especially now; with Maggie refusing his visits. Was he supposed to wait until they were in divorce court and then hand them to her? In Nancy’s presence he felt like the villain, as though she unconditionally accepted Maggie and her choices and somehow blamed him in the process. It was easy for her to stand in judgment of him, assuming he had driven Maggie not only to lie but also to give up her child.
She doesn’t know me, Lord. What’s happened isn’t my fault.
Nancy reached out and ran her finger over the yellowed envelope, then brought her eyes up to Ben’s. “After my husband died, I realized Maggie never should have given that baby up for adoption. She loved that little girl more than life itself. But somehow she was bent on making you happy.”
Ben’s head reeled once more. Girl? Maggie’s baby had been a girl? “Did you say the baby was a…”
Ben checked his heart and wondered at the strange sensations coursing through him. He chided himself for his reaction. It didn’t matter whether Maggie’s baby was a girl or boy. The child belonged to another man. Besides, she was adopted more than seven years ago. She might live in another country by now for all he knew.
So why was the knowledge of her existence, and the fact that she’d just been made more real by the identification of her gender, causing a lump in his throat?
“Yes, Maggie had a girl. Which brings me to the information in the second envelope. The name of Maggie’s social worker in Cincinnati. I don’t know what your intentions are, Ben, but while you’re here it wouldn’t hurt to look that woman up.”
Ben clutched the envelopes tightly and jammed them inside his jacket. For a moment he hung his head, not sure what more he could say.
Forgive…as I have forgiven you, so you must forgive…
This time the quiet whispering sparked a twinge of compassion in his soul. He was still angry, but somehow the image of Maggie all those years ago, missing her little girl…not knowing where she was…Poor Maggie, hiding the truth all these years…giving up a baby girl…all because she loved me.
His anger sounded loudly once more. No matter what happened, she didn’t have to lie. Year after year after—
He met Nancy’s gaze once more wishing only for the solitude to sort through his feelings. “I’m sorry about my reaction. I guess I…I thought Maggie was…I believed her. It makes me feel like I really don’t know her.”
Nancy leaned toward Ben and patted him firmly on the shoulder, her eyes wet with tears. “Maggie’s a good girl, Ben. She loves you more than you know. But you’re going to need to pray hard this time, because if she’s set on divorcing you…well…if I know Maggie, it’s going to take a miracle to change her mind.”
Maybe I don’t want her to change it. Maybe it’d be best to let it…Ben pushed his thoughts back, thanked the woman again, and left.
He walked in a haze, feeling as though his life had been decimated by an atom bomb. Everything he knew to be right and real and true had been obliterated in the time it took Nancy to say four words: “Maybe it’s the baby.”
Shuffling, Ben made it to the car, slid inside, and pulled the newer envelope from his pocket. The one with the information on Maggie’s social worker…the information that could lead him to Maggie’s illegitimate daughter. He stared at it for a minute, then tossed it on the seat beside him. As he started his car, Nancy’s words came back to him, taking up residence in his mind and taunting him as he drove across town to the local motel, checked in, and climbed wearily into bed.
Through every action, the woman’s words remained:
“I don’t know what your intentions are, Ben, but while you’re here it wouldn’t hurt to look that woman up…look her up…look her up. It wouldn’t hurt to look her up.”
Ben had no intention of contacting the social worker. He wanted only to get home, return to work and sign whatever divorce papers Maggie was having prepared from the hospital.
It wasn’t until three o’clock that morning—while Nancy’s words rattled around in his head refusing him any sleep—that he realized maybe the woman was right. After all, his office wasn’t expecting him back for another week. Why not do some checking?
He flipped on the bedside light, climbed out of bed, and found the crisp, white envelope where he’d set it on the table. Fine. He’d open it and find out what was inside. Working his finger under the seal, he ripped the flap and pulled out a single slip from inside. Scrawled neatly across the middle it said: “Social worker Kathy Garrett handled the adoption of Maggie’s baby girl. Kathy works out of the Cincinnati County Courthouse.”
Ben let his eyes linger on the words. Maggie’s baby girl Maggie’s baby girl? How could it be possible? The whole ordeal was unimaginable, like something from a terrible nightmare. He rubbed his eyes and stared once more at the slip of paper.
Nancy Taylor was right. If he didn’t want to lie awake all night tossing and turning while her words haunted him, he’d take the next day and do some research. What could it possibly hurt?
Ben leaned back with a sigh. How many times over the years had he wanted a little girl of his own? A child who was part Maggie, part princess…one who would look to him with adoring eyes knowing he would protect her, cherish her to the end of time.
A little girl. Maggie’s daughter. I can’t believe it, Lord.
He tried to imagine what Maggie’s little girl might look like. Blond hair, probably, like Maggie’s when she was a child. Big, cornflower blue eyes in a face that—
He sat up with a jerk. Forget about it! She’s McFadden’s daughter, too. Besides, she probably has a wonderful life with her adoptive parents. His interference now would do nothing but harm her. His emotions warring within him, he lay back down and sometime later that night fell asleep, dreaming about little girls who looked like Maggie and a social worker named Kathy Garrett.
Twenty
IN THE WEEK SINCE JOHN MCFADDEN HAD POSTED BAIL HE’D HAD plenty of time to reconsider his earlier vow and decide that killing Ben Stovall might not be necessary. The guy should have died from the beating, but since he hadn’t, John had come up with an alternative plan. One that involved the kid.
Of course, killing Stovall would be the most satisfying solution. And the easiest. No one to testify against him in court, nobody pressing charges for assault. No witnesses to the drug trafficking taking place at the bar. But after thinking it through, John recognized several drawbacks.
The worst was the chance of getting caught. If John acted alone, he’d get the death penalty should the police catch him. And more often these days, police seemed to do just that. Not more than a month ago a regular at the bar had been nailed for knocking off an…associate. Took the guy out nice and clean with a simple car bomb. The bum deserved it. If he’d tampered with one of John’s laundering operations, he’d have gotten the same thing. Dead. The guy who did the killing had been careful. No fi
ngerprints, nothing. But the police still figured it out.
No, the chance of being caught where murder was concerned was very real. As real as the gas chamber.
The whole idea of the death penalty had forced John to examine his reasons for wanting Stovall dead in the first place. Yeah, the guy had seen them handling drugs, and being a lawyer, he was sure to blow the whistle on them. John gritted his teeth. His whole operation could come down around his ears if Stovall talked. Still, time in prison for drug smuggling—however long that might be—beat a death penalty conviction.
Then there was the chance that Stovall didn’t know what he’d seen. Could be the upright, uptight lawyer-man didn’t know John and his boys were unloading drugs. If he did Stovall, took him out like he itched to, it was a sure bet the cops would be on his doorstep. He’d be a suspect, no doubt. And a murder investigation would have blue uniforms swarming around the bar looking for any information they could find. And that would also kill his operation.
He uttered a curse and went to pour himself a drink. Why did the guy have to show up anyway? Why didn’t he have the sense to die from the beating?
John took a slow sip of his drink. Maggie’s husband, huh? Figures she’d marry a straight-and-narrow like that. He sneered at his reflection in the bar mirror. Yeah, it would feel good to kill Stovall…problem was, there was really no clean way to kill the guy. If there was one thing John couldn’t stand it was a messy crime scene. Bloody fingerprints and murder weapons and signs of struggle…any of it could lead police to his front door. And then it would be all over but the switch pulling.
Which meant he needed another plan. He thought of the little girl again, and his face twisted into a satisfied smile.
No, he wouldn’t kill Ben Stovall, he’d drive him crazy instead.
And if the kid got hurt in the process, so be it.
Twenty-one
LATE THAT NIGHT, AMANDA ROLLED ONTO HER SIDE AND INHALED sharply. It still hurt. She’d looked in the mirror before going to bed—the bruises were starting to go away. Ugly yellow-brown streaks still showed on her face and arms and ribs. And her eyes were still that icky red, even after two weeks. Broken capill…capill…