Truth-Stained Lies

  “Room 318,” the nurse said without looking up from her charts.

  Holly just stood there for a moment. “Can I ask why you didn’t put her in intensive care? She seemed really sick.”

  The nurse looked up then. “She has a DNR order in her file, so we’re trying to keep her comfortable here.”

  “DNR?” Holly asked.

  “Do not resuscitate.”

  Holly’s heart jolted. “Can I see her?”

  “Yes. Are you family?”

  “No, just a friend.”

  Holly went to her door, knocked softly, pushed it open.

  Mrs. Haughton lay limp on the bed, an oxygen mask on her face. She was asleep or unconscious; Holly couldn’t tell which.

  She leaned over the bed, touched the thin skin of Mrs. Haughton’s cold hand. The limp woman didn’t flinch.

  “Mrs. Haughton?” Holly whispered. “It’s me, Holly. I just wanted to come by and make sure you’re all right.”

  Mrs. Haughton didn’t move or react. Holly looked around, saw a blanket in a chair. She went to get it, unfolded it, and spread it over the bed. “Is that better?” she asked.

  Still … silence.

  “Mrs. Haughton,” she said, “I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened. Annalee, Jackson … Warren. I know your heart is broken.”

  Mrs. Haughton probably didn’t know that Warren had kidnapped Jackson and almost killed him. She didn’t know he had tried to hurl himself to his death.

  She pushed the gray, coarse hair out of the woman’s wrinkled face. “Life just doesn’t turn out like we expect, does it?” She sat down in the chair next to the bed, stroked Mrs. Haughton’s hand again. “If Juliet were here, she’d tell you that there’s more on the other side. That all things become new again. That there’s healing and life. But I don’t know if I believe that.” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze settled on the window beyond the bed.

  What, exactly, did she believe? She wasn’t an atheist. She cried out too much to God to claim she didn’t believe. Faith had molded Juliet, and to some extent, Cathy. But Holly’s spiritual core was tainted with cynicism. How could she believe in the things her father preached, when he’d been proven a fraud?

  And the church that had been such a family to them when she was little had abandoned them so easily. Her mother never sought another one. Oh, she’d attended one now and then and dragged the kids along, but she’d never put her trust in the people again.

  To Holly, the body of Christ was as sick and broken as Warren and his mother.

  But now, as she sat with this woman hovering on the brink of death, she found herself wondering if her impressions were true. Did it really matter that the world was full of hypocrites, when it came right down to it? Would God give her a pass because she’d been hurt by his people?

  “I take that back,” she told Mrs. Haughton. “The truth is, I do believe that there’s more. And if I didn’t believe in forgiveness, I guess I’d just give up. It wouldn’t be worth going on.” The words caught in her throat, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I know it all sounds far-fetched. I’ve thought that too. That my mistakes … and there are an awful lot of them … couldn’t possibly be erased clean. That Jesus couldn’t possibly forgive them. But I think that’s the whole point of why he came.”

  The words were cathartic, infusing her with peace, though they were meant for Mrs. Haughton. Holly swallowed and squeezed Mrs. Haughton’s hand. “I hope you can hear me.”

  Juliet waited with Jackson until they moved him up to the ICU. It would be an hour or so before they got him set up and she could see him. By then, she hoped that Jay would be here.

  She couldn’t imagine what her little brother had been going through. Had he somehow heard about the Amber Alert and the search for his kidnapped son? It must have been torture.

  She decided to take a few minutes to check on Mrs. Haughton. The woman had been brought to the hospital without any fanfare. There had been no one from her family to receive her and stay with her. No one who cared whether she lived or died.

  Juliet’s heart ached for Annalee’s mother. If she found out how evil her son really was … what would it do to her? She could hear it on TV or read it in the paper tomorrow.

  Maybe Juliet could break it to her gently, without telling her everything he’d done.

  She got Mrs. Haughton’s room number and went up to her floor. She went to the door, found it partially open. Quietly, she stepped inside.

  Holly was already there, her back to the door, sitting close to the woman’s bed. “I know it all sounds far-fetched. I’ve thought that too. That my mistakes … and there are an awful lot of them … couldn’t possibly be erased clean. That Jesus couldn’t possibly forgive them. But I think that’s the whole point of why he came … I hope you can hear me.”

  Juliet touched her chest as tears came to her eyes. She started to step forward and stand beside her sister, but she hesitated when Holly spoke again.

  “I’ve done so many things wrong. Things that are life-changing. I haven’t told anybody this yet …”

  Juliet’s hand dropped, and she took a step back, out of sight.

  “Juliet would have a heart attack. She would tell me how stupid I’ve been. That I have terrible judgment. She’d be right. She would tell me that I’m not fit to be a mother.”

  Juliet almost gasped, but she threw her hand over her mouth. What? A mother?

  Had Cathy been right in the car?

  “I’m pregnant, Mrs. Haughton,” Holly said. “And I was thinking about an abortion, but I can’t go through with it.” She paused, looked down at the wrinkled gray face. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t really had anyone else I could tell. You probably can’t hear me anyway.”

  Juliet slipped out and walked down to the nurses’ station, stunned. She leaned back against the wall, looked up at the ceiling. Holly pregnant? No wonder she’d been throwing up. No wonder she cried so much.

  She tried to imagine what her baby sister was going through … considering abortion … wondering what to do. She’d been carrying this alone. Suffering and angry at herself.

  After a few minutes, Holly came out of the room, wiping her face. When Holly saw Juliet, she stopped walking. Juliet pushed off from the wall and went toward her.

  “Juliet,” Holly said. “Did they move Jackson to this floor?”

  “No,” Juliet said. “I came to see Mrs. Haughton.”

  Holly’s face tightened. “Oh. She’s in there, but she’s not conscious.”

  Juliet’s face twisted, and she thought of pretending she hadn’t heard. But then Holly would have to keep enduring her situation alone. Suddenly, Juliet pulled her sister into a hug, held her as if she were her own child.

  “What is it?” Holly asked on a whisper.

  Juliet began to cry. “You’re a beautiful girl, Holly. Inside and out. And you’ll be a wonderful mother.”

  Holly pulled back suddenly, and stared, stricken, at her sister. Her wet face turned crimson, and her jaw dropped open. Then she began to laugh. Juliet laughed with her and pulled her back into the hug.

  CHAPTER 52

  Darkness was beginning to set in as Cathy and Michael reached the jail. Jay’s attorney was just pulling up. He went in to process Jay’s release while Cathy and Michael waited outside.

  The temperature had dropped, and a cool wind whispered across the parking lot, ruffling Cathy’s hair. The moon hung low, full.

  “The moon looks like it’s closer to the earth than usual,” she said. “Weird to think it’s just an illusion.”

  “Not just an illusion,” Michael said. “It’s a reminder.”

  “Of what?” she asked with a smile.

  “Of God’s having control over everything. The moon … Jackson’s life … our lives.”

  Cathy smiled. “Something happened to me during all this. I realized some things.”

  “About God?” he asked.

  He always seemed to read her thoug
hts. “Yes. About his listening to me when I pray. I found out that he does. He even answers.”

  “You knew that already.”

  She looked into the wind, squinting. “Yeah, I knew. You’ve reminded me enough. But I didn’t want to admit it. I blamed God for everything. For my father’s betrayal … for my mother’s cancer … for Joe’s murder.”

  “And you don’t anymore?”

  She thought about that for a moment. “I’m still grappling with all of this. But I do know one thing. God’s love trumps evil. Jesus is the evidence of that.”

  Michael looked at her, moonlight glistening in his eyes. “I knew you’d come around.”

  “And another thing happened. When I was trying to figure out if the killer was one of the people I’d blogged about, I realized how what I do impacts lives.”

  “It does, Cathy. You do good work.”

  “No, I mean that it impacts them in a negative way. I’m not sure I’ve always been that careful. If someone looks guilty, I tell the world.”

  “But you have great instincts. And you dig for the truth.”

  “But I never pray about it. What if there are people like Jay, who are completely innocent, whose lives have been ruined because of what I’ve written?”

  Michael considered that for a moment. “I hope you’re not planning to quit blogging. It’s too important, what you do.”

  She met his eyes. “Really? You think so?”

  “You know it is. For some reason, God took me out of the police force and put me where I am. For some reason, he’s given you a blog that people like to read. Think of how many dangerous people you’ve helped get off the street.”

  “Maybe I won’t quit. Maybe I just won’t draw conclusions before I should. I’ll pray about these things before I sink my teeth into them.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  She met his eyes, mirrored his smile. “Thank you, Michael.”

  “For what?”

  “For encouraging me. And for being there. I knew when Warren opened that balcony door that you’d be there. You’re always there. You’re my hero.”

  She couldn’t manage to look away as he gazed at her, and she felt her heart hammering against her chest just as it had done when she was in danger.

  She wondered if she was in danger now.

  His face moved close to hers, and she didn’t back away. Suddenly his lips touched hers, sweet, soft … just the way she’d imagined. The kiss deepened, lingered …

  His hand came up to touch her face. She melted to his touch. She had known he would taste like this …

  Too soon, he pulled back and met her eyes. She drew in a deep breath … held it.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She hadn’t expected that. She looked down at her feet, sudden guilt assaulting her. “For what?”

  “For … that. I shouldn’t have been so bold. You’re Joe’s girl.”

  “I was Joe’s girl.”

  “But my brother loved you.”

  “He loved you too.”

  He let his eyes linger on her face. “It feels wrong … doesn’t it?”

  She didn’t know what she felt. Was it wrong or right? If Joe knew, would he be devastated or delighted? Would he have chosen Michael for her or declared him off limits?

  She didn’t know. Unable to speak, she touched his face, pulled him back to her, and kissed him again. This time she lost herself in his kiss, touching the stubble on his jaw, the silkiness of his hair, the texture of his skin. His fingers buried themselves in her hair, gently tilting her head.

  The door opened suddenly and light spilled out, startling them apart.

  “Cathy?”

  She turned to see her brother standing in the light. “Jay?”

  He ran toward her, and she threw her arms around him. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “How is Jackson?”

  “He’s back in the hospital.”

  Jay’s eyes filled with tears. “They said on TV Warren kidnapped him. They said he was dying.”

  “He’ll be better now with you there. Come on, we’ll take you to him.”

  Michael pulled Jay into a hug. “Glad to see you out, man.”

  As they drove Jay to the hospital, Cathy didn’t look at Michael again. The air seemed charged with enough voltage to power her heart for years.

  But guilt still had its own current.

  CHAPTER 53

  So you’re having a baby before I am.” Cathy’s gut reaction to Holly’s news disturbed her. Why couldn’t she just empathize with her sister? This wasn’t about her, of course. But it reminded her … if she’d married Joe, by now she’d probably be shopping for maternity clothes and cribs.

  Holly sat on the sand in front of her, the ocean at her back. She looked so small and pretty with the wind whipping her long pink hair into her face. Her skin had more color now, and those dark circles that often marked the morning after a night of clubbing had disappeared. Though it wasn’t ideal for her to be pregnant and unmarried, maybe it was pushing her toward being more healthy.

  “I know. It’s crazy.”

  The end of day sun burned on Cathy’s face and shoulders. She dusted the sand off her feet and slipped them back into her sandals. “Are you going to tell the father?”

  Holly breathed a mirthless laugh. “No. I don’t even know his last name. I’ll never see him again. And that’s just as well, because I hardly knew him. I was just drunk.”

  Cathy sighed. “Holly …”

  “I know. You don’t have to say it.” She looked down at the sand and drew a circle, finished it off with two eyes and a smile.

  “Say what?”

  “All the things I’ve done wrong. All these years I should have listened to you and Juliet. You’ve always been right. You warn me of where I’m heading, but I race there anyway.”

  “So maybe this time you’ll slow down. Think it through. Raising a child can’t be done by the seat of your pants. It takes thought, planning, commitment.”

  “I know. It scares me to death.”

  Cathy looked into the breeze. A family was sitting on the packed wet sand at the edge of the waves. A little toddler was piling sand in a tower with a plastic shovel. His father stood in the water with a baby on his shoulders, frothy tongues of sea water nipping at his feet. The mother dug through a sack and pulled out a baggie of crackers.

  Cathy had experienced that as a child, but in so many ways that scenario had been lost to Holly.

  Cathy turned back to Holly. “I think you’re going to do fine. I see changes in you.”

  Holly’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

  “Yes. You’ve been more caring lately. You’ve done things to help. You’ve taken responsibility.”

  “Probably because I’m not going out drinking every night. Can’t really do that when you’re pregnant.”

  “Oh, you can. Lots of people do. You choose not to. And that speaks volumes about your putting your baby’s needs before your own. You’ll do fine, Sis. You had a rough start, with Dad and everything.”

  Holly shook her head. “No, I can’t blame him. Not anymore. I make my own choices.” She wiped away the sandy happy face she’d drawn, dusted off her hands. “I saw him, you know.”

  “Saw who?”

  “Dad.”

  Cathy squinted to study her face. “You went there?”

  “Yes. To the nursing home. I sat with him, saw how helpless he is. This cranky nurse’s aide was feeding him, and I made her give me the spoon so I could do it.”

  Cathy was stunned. “Did he know you?”

  “No. I was a stranger to him.”

  Cathy felt the pain rising in her throat. “Did he say anything?”

  “Not a word. I could have been anybody off the street. He’s not really in there. But I guess it helped me in some way just … to see him. Just to know that he can never redeem himself. I have to stop living my life as if I’m waiting for him to pay back his debt to me.” r />
  Cathy stared at her, amazed at the bravery of her sister. Since they’d learned their father was in a nursing home here, they’d all dealt with it in their own way. Cathy didn’t know if Juliet ever visited him. Juliet hadn’t ever mentioned it. But for Holly, the weak one, to go there and serve him …

  Holly’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at the text. “It’s from Jay. He says the doctor came by and they’re releasing Jackson tomorrow.”

  “Very cool,” Holly said. “So that whole prayer thing. It really does work.”

  “Yeah, it does. Go figure.”

  When Holly went back to her taxi, Cathy sat alone for a moment, trying to shake the conversation about their dad from her mind. But it wouldn’t leave her.

  Did her father still look the way he had years ago? Was his hair more gray? Was his face more wrinkled? Had he put on weight?

  He’d been so animated and charming as a preacher, and his flock had adored him. Did he still have that twinkle in his eye?

  There was a way to find out.

  She knew where the nursing home was. She had passed it many times, since it sat on Highway 98 along the beach. At least his wife had chosen a nice place for him.

  She dusted off the sand and crossed the street to her house, wondering if she had the courage to go to that place and dredge up all those memories. But had she really ever escaped them?

  Not sure what she would say to him if she saw him, she drove to the nursing home and went in, feeling incompetent and awkward, which she deplored. But she found her way to the Alzheimer’s wing.

  She walked slowly down the empty hallway, looking at the names on the doors. Rogers, Wright, Gonzales …

  Finally she heard a voice inside a large room up ahead. A man’s gentle voice, reading. “For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for a lifetime; weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

  She stopped outside the door and saw that many of the residents were in there, some seated on chairs, others in wheelchairs. A young man stood at the front, an open Bible in his hand. Was today Sunday? Had she come during church?