Finding Faith

  “But—but what are we going to do if I get the job? I can’t keep flying home on weekends.”

  Ah, that’s why her voice was laced with sadness. He hadn’t told her yet, but he couldn’t think of a better time to do it than now. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that. If you get the anchor chair, I’m coming to Chicago with you.”

  He heard her quivery gasp, then there was nothing but silence. He would’ve given anything to know what was going on inside her head.

  “Oh, David.” Her tone was choked with emotion.

  “I love you, baby. I’d move anywhere on earth to be with you.”

  “But your business, your career—”

  “I might keep JH Realty for a while and let Jack run it. If I decide to sell, it shouldn’t be too much hassle. I might even turn a profit. And Chicago is a great market. It’s ripe with real-estate opportunity.”

  She sniffed. “You’ve built a clientele there. You’d be starting all over. It’s such a sacrifice, David.” She sniffed again, and her voice wobbled. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Stop it. I’ve already made up my mind.” He tried to lighten the moment. “Miles is about to give you a huge leap up the corporate ladder. It’s a culmination of years of hard work, a dream come true, and quite frankly, you’re ruining it for me.”

  She laughed and the sound of it made his heart expand.

  “I’m really proud of you, Paula.”

  He heard her crying softly and wondered for a moment why his gesture had moved her so much. It wasn’t like her to break down. She’d never been the sentimental, emotional type. That’s one of the things he loved about her. If she was getting all teary over one loving gesture, maybe he hadn’t been so good about expressing his love. He’d have to work on that.

  “I should go.” Paula sounded like she had a whopper of a head cold. “I still have some copy to work on for tomorrow.”

  “All right. Let me know what time I need to get out there Friday.” “I will,” she said.

  “I love you, David.”

  “Love you too, baby.”

  * * *

  David was still thinking about the phone conversation the next night while he packed for Chicago. Paula had e-mailed to let him know he needed to be at the pier at six o’clock Friday evening. That meant taking off early the next day, but he’d gotten caught up on paperwork and had scheduled showings around the days he’d be gone.

  He pulled his navy Dockers from the closet and carefully laid them in his roller bag along with the finely knit sweater Paula had ordered for him from Banana Republic. Though he’d normally wear jeans and a sweatshirt on a casual trip, he wanted to be an asset to Paula where Miles was concerned, and he knew Paula sure wouldn’t be wearing jeans.

  He looked up the weather on the Net and saw Chicago was in for decent weather for late February. Saturday was supposed to be in the high forties with plenty of sunshine.

  The warmth of the sun would help keep the crisp air from feeling freezing cold. He’d definitely need his prescription sunglasses to deal with the glare of the sun on the water. They should still be in Paula’s jewelry box, where he always kept them in the winter. He walked across the carpet to the dresser on the far side of the bedroom and opened the jewelry box. They were nestled down at the bottom, where he’d put them at the end of summer.

  As he shut the box, his eye caught a cell phone that lay between the back corner of the box and the mirror. Paula’s cell phone. Not her old one, but her Chicago one. She must have left it in their rush to get her back to the airport on Sunday. She was probably going nuts without it.

  He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it to him, but maybe she thought she lost it somewhere. Maybe he should call her and let her know it was here. He glanced at the red, digital numbers on his alarm clock. It was almost eleven. He’d just bring it with him tomorrow.

  But maybe there were some messages she needed to know about. He turned on the phone and saw she had five messages. He’d just listen to them, and if there was anything that sounded urgent, he’d call her first thing in the morning.

  He sat on the down duvet, pushing his roller bag aside. It took him a minute to figure out how to retrieve the messages. While he listened to the first one, he grabbed a pen and pad of paper from Paula’s night-stand drawer. He jotted down the name and number of someone from the station who had a question about a story, then saved the message. The second one was from Linn, calling from someplace noisy. She’d just gotten her grade back on the video project he and Paula had helped her on, and it was a 98 percent. He saved the message and advanced to the next one.

  “Hi Paula, it’s Deb. I just wanted to say thank you. I know how hard it must’ve been to tell Steve and me about your—abortion. And I hate to bring this up, but there’ll be custody papers you’ll need to sign. I’m sure you knew that was coming, but, well, anyway . . . Also, Steve and I would like to talk to the nurse you got your information from. I know you said her name was Louise Garner, but I’m not finding a number for her in the phone book. Well, we’re praying for you, Paula. Talk to you later.”

  David’s insides went stiff and brittle. Did she say abortion? He replayed the message. Paula had an abortion? When? Where? Was it a mistake? Did the caller misdial the number? He played the message again and caught the greeting. She’d specifically said, “Paula.”

  Paula had had an abortion. Could it have been before they were married? Wouldn’t she have told him? And what was with the custody papers? He played the message for the fourth time.

  “I hate to bring this up, but there’ll be custody papers you’ll need to sign.”

  Why would Paula need to sign custody papers? As a witness or something? None of it made any sense. What was the woman’s name who’d called? Deb? He played the message again. Yes, it was Deb. The name sounded familiar. Then he remembered Paula had talked about a Deb back in December when she’d been working on the “Switched at Birth” story. Deb was the mother who’d found out her child wasn’t the one she’d given birth to.

  How did it relate to Paula? Why was Deb mentioning Paula’s abortion and talking about custody?

  Liquid fire burned through his veins, a warning that he might not want to know the answers to his questions. When had Paula had an abortion? His mind wrapped around the question until the thought was compacted into a hard ball.

  Paula had only been pregnant once that he knew of, and she’d miscarried. She’d gone off to a convention or conference or something in Chicago and that’s where—

  His thoughts stopped with jarring suddenness. No. Just because she’d been in Chicago, just because she’d been away from him when the miscarriage happened didn’t mean—

  He replayed Deb’s message, listening for any clues he’d missed before. The only new thing he picked up was a nurse’s name. None of it made sense. If she’d had an abortion during that pregnancy, why was Deb talking about custody?

  No, it had to be something else. He should just ask Paula. She would tell him the truth, wouldn’t she?

  On the other hand, she’d obviously had an abortion at some point and had kept it from him. Who was to say she’d be honest about it now? Had she ever been planning on telling him?

  Louise Garner. The name came to him like a bolt of lightning against the darkened silhouette of the Tetons. The message had said something about Paula getting all her information from this nurse. He looked at the phone, ready to replay the message, but flipped the phone closed instead.

  Maybe Deb couldn’t find Louise’s number, but David was going to. He had fifteen hours before he caught his plane, and he was going to know the truth before he left.

  Even if it killed him.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-THREE

  Linn hung up the phone and clasped her sweater around her. Talking to Natalie always gave her mixed feelings. On one hand, she was happy Grace had such a happy home with a great mom and dad. On the other hand, it made her lonely and sad to hear Natalie’s excitemen
t and Grace’s little baby sounds. She picked up her purse off the floor and settled into the leather recliner. After fishing around the cavernous interior, she found the envelope of photos Natalie had sent after Christmas.

  She studied Grace’s chipmunk cheeks and thought again how much she’d filled out since her birth. Giving her up had been the hardest thing Linn had ever done. It still hurt, and she wondered when it would get easier to have a part of herself living hundreds of miles away.

  You’re making a new life for yourself. You’re going to be OK.

  As often as she said it to herself, it was getting harder and harder to believe. She’d had to give up Grace, and now she’d had to give up Adam, and she was weary of ushering people from her life.

  Help me, God. I know it was the right thing to do in both situations, but it just hurts.

  Ever since the kiss in the coffee shop, Adam had been painfully polite to her. His mouth was always set in a tight line, and he’d spoken to her only when necessary. When a donut shop where she interviewed called and offered her a job, she jumped on it. Three days after the kiss, she thanked Joe, said a stilted good-bye to Adam, and walked out the door. It had been a week ago, and she missed Adam more than she wanted to admit.

  Not until she lost him for good did she realize that her feelings for him had grown beyond the fondness stage. She had a bad case of love, and there was no cure for it. Even absence seemed to make it stronger. While she bagged donuts for customers before the sun came up, she longed to have him there, saying something to make her laugh. Instead, she was stuck behind the counter with a middle-aged woman who seemed to detest either people or early mornings. She wasn’t sure which, but the woman had a negative attitude that drove Linn crazy.

  Linn set the pictures on the end table and leaned back in the chair. She’d looked forward to having a Friday evening off, and now she wondered why. There was nothing to do except sit there and get lost in memories that made her heart ache. To make it worse, Paula would be gone for a couple of days, so Linn didn’t even have the distraction of company.

  She curled her feet to her side and noted that she had the beginnings of a hole in the knee of her jeans. Great. Like she had money to go buy new clothes. She’d have to wait until garage-sale season.

  She needed to find something to do other than sit there and stare at the hole in her jeans. Maybe there was a good movie or something on TV. As she reached for the remote control, a knock sounded at the door, making her jump. She set down the remote and got up, approaching the door timidly. If she looked out the peephole, would the person on the other side know she was looking out? Well, the door was bolted anyway, so she supposed she was safe.

  Rising on her tiptoes, she peeked through . . . and went rigid with shock.

  Adam stood on the other side of the door, shoulders hunched down in his winter coat, eyes turned toward the floor.

  What should I do?

  She took her hands off the door and cringed at the slight sound it made as it buckled in the doorframe. Had he heard it?

  What was Adam doing here? Had she forgotten something from Java Joe? A scarf, a book, her heart? Yeah—maybe he’d brought her heart back, and now everything would be OK.

  She stepped toward the door. She wanted to see him, longed to see him. Just to talk to him like old times and catch up on stuff.

  Another knock startled her, and she took a step back. Bad idea, girl. Don’t do it.

  “I know you’re in there, Linn.” His voice seemed only inches away from her ear.

  So he’d heard the stupid door thump as she’d stepped away from it. Now what should she do?

  “Come on, I just want to talk.”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the sound of his voice. Her heart beat unsteadily.

  “Please?”

  Everything in her constricted into a knot. She stepped close to the door and slid the bolts from their slots. Lastly, she slid the chain aside and opened the door.

  Adam’s eyes locked on hers and didn’t let go. “Hi.”

  She squeezed the cold metal doorknob in her clammy fist. “Hi.”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  The best of times. And the worst of times. She hadn’t realized she had something in common with Charles Dickens, she thought wryly. “Not really.”

  “Thanks for opening the door. I know you didn’t want to.”

  It wasn’t true. She wanted to see him more than anything. She craved him the way a dieting woman craves chocolate. “Want to come in?”

  She regretted the words the minute they were out. Being alone with Adam was just plain dangerous. But he was already stepping across the threshold. She took his coat and hung it on the closet doorknob.

  “Want something to drink? Coffee or tea?”

  He didn’t come for a tea party, Linn.

  “No thanks.”

  She gestured toward the couch, and she sat opposite him on the recliner.

  Distance is good.

  “How’ve you been?”

  “How’s your new job?”

  They spoke simultaneously, then laughed.

  “You first,” she said. Her feelings swam so close to the surface that the less she talked, the better.

  “I was wondering how it’s going at Dunkin’s.”

  She shrugged. “It’s pretty much a breeze. Bag the donuts, ring them up, and hand them over.”

  “How do you like getting up so early?”

  She smiled. “It’s the pits. But it’s nice to get work over with early and then be able to focus on classes and homework the rest of the day.”

  He leaned back against the sofa and crossed his ankle over his knee. He’d hardly taken his eyes from her, and in the silence she could almost hear the channels changing in his mind.

  “We’ve missed you at the shop.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Did it mean he missed her, or that her old coworkers missed her?

  “Your replacement is kind of lame. Well, she’s OK at the register, but she hasn’t gotten the hang of making drinks.”

  “She hasn’t been there long.” A part of her was jealous, imagining Adam standing behind another girl, teaching her how to use the steamer. Was she pretty? Did she have a crush on Adam?

  Knock it off, Linn.

  “You’re right.” He stared into her eyes. The glow of the lamp on the end table carved shadows into the other side of his face. “I guess the real problem is, she isn’t you.”

  His words stirred up hope. How was it a guy like him cared about her?

  I’ll tell you how. It’s because he doesn’t know you. Not really know you. If he knew what you’d done, he wouldn’t give you the time of day.

  Adam’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You haven’t said much.”

  She shrugged. “I guess there’s not much to say.”

  Please leave. Just go before I spill my heart out to you.

  Her eyes pleaded, but he didn’t pay any attention.

  “That night at the coffee shop you said you have feelings for me.”

  She swallowed hard. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

  “You also said I didn’t know everything about you.”

  She looked away, her spirit cringing. He wanted to know, and he wasn’t going to let it go until she told him.

  Please, God, don’t make me tell him. I thought I left it all back in Jackson. I don’t want to relive it all. Especially with Adam.

  “Look, Linn. I’m not trying to force you to tell me anything. But I—I care about you. And you said you cared about me. And this thing from your past is like a big wall between us.”

  Just don’t say anything, Linn. Let him have his say, and then he’ll go.

  Even if she did tell him everything and it didn’t kill every feeling he had for her, it still wouldn’t work. If the relationship got serious, they’d want to be married, and preacher’s wives didn’t have pasts like hers.

  Her eyes skittered across the end table where her photo
s of Grace sat. On top was the one of Linn holding Grace in the hospital. Everything in her wanted to reach out and snap up the pictures, but to do so would only draw attention to them. Maybe he wouldn’t see them. She looked away. She felt vulnerable having her secret baby’s photos lying exposed on the table. She had to get him out of there.

  “You’re not saying anything.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  His jaw clenched, and she was torn. Torn by the need to keep her secrets and the yearning to soothe Adam’s hurt feelings.

  “Maybe you should go, Adam.” She spoke softly and hoped he hadn’t heard the crack in her voice.

  He stood, but instead of walking toward the door, he paced to the window and back, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I don’t get it, Linn. I mean, what could it be? Were you an alcoholic? A drug dealer? A prostitute?” His voice crescendoed. “Do you think I’m such a jerk I couldn’t get beyond anything you may have done?”

  Her heart rate accelerated. “That’s not fair. And how can you know my past wouldn’t matter when you don’t know what I’ve done?”

  His jaw worked. “Then tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t!”

  “Why not? If I walk out of here tonight, we may never see each other again. We could lose any hope of ever—” He ran his hand through his hair. “What’s worse than that, Linn? What do you have to lose?”

  Her pride? Adam’s affections? She would shrivel up and die if she told him and saw disgust on his face.

  He was in front of her now, down on his haunches, his hands on the chair’s arms. “Tell me. Just tell me.” His knuckles were like white pebbles against the black leather.

  She felt like a wild animal cornered by a hunter. Her eyes flickered over to the photos, only inches from Adam’s hand. She honed in on Grace, whose eyes were wide open, her little fist clutched beside her jaw. Linn’s blood pumped through her veins so fast she was almost dizzy with it. She tore her eyes from the photo.