Her nerves felt stretched as tight as the skins drying in the racks on her back porch. She saw Simik’s car parked by the Tastee Freeze at the edge of town and pulled the truck in beside him. Simik made her nervous even when Zane was around. He was married, but the look in his eyes when he saw her didn’t seem as though he was remembering the ring on his finger.
His gaze flickered over her when she walked toward his car, and his oily smile made her want to run.
He ran his window down. “Get in the car, and we’ll talk.”
“Zane sent you this.” She thrust the bulging envelope in his hand. “I don’t need to get in.”
“I need to count it. Get in.” His voice brooked no argument.
Sighing, Jonelle went around the car and got in on the passenger side. The rich leather upholstery welcomed her like an old friend. When she was growing up, her dad had always had fancy cars like this one. She rubbed her hand over the downy soft seat.
Simik’s pudgy fingers rippled through the bills in the envelope. “All here,” he said. He stuffed the envelope into the dash pocket. A paper fell onto the floor, but he was smiling at Jonelle and didn’t notice. “I’ve been watching you, Jonelle. You’re too good to be stuck in that hole.”
“Zane’s good to me,” she said, her fingers creeping to the door handle. If he made a move, she’d bolt.
“Want some ice cream?”
Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten all morning. It was nearly eleven now. “Okay,” she said. “Superman.”
He laughed. “Just like a kid. I’ll be right back.” He got out of the car and went to the counter.
Jonelle looked around the car curiously. Simik was an enigma to her. Smooth and suave but with rough edges. She saw the paper that had fallen onto the floor. Glancing to make sure he was still occupied, she picked it up and unfolded it.
Scanning it quickly, it seemed to describe a job offering a great deal of money to a Philip Taylor. She’d heard that name before, but where? Chewing on her lip, she glanced out the window and saw Simik coming toward the car. She stuffed the paper into her jacket pocket.
“Here you go.” Simik handed her a triple-size cone.
“I can’t eat all that,” she protested. She took the cone and hoped he didn’t notice her hands shaking.
“You could use a little fattening up.” He got in beside her and began to eat his cone.
The flavor proved how boring he was. Vanilla. Who ate vanilla these days when there were so many flavors to choose from? Jonelle took a lick of her cone. How quickly could she get out of here?
“How did someone like you get hooked up with Zane? He’s just a good ol’ boy, and you’re too good for him.”
Sometimes Jonelle wondered the same thing. She shrugged. “The usual story. He was the high school jock, and I was the head cheerleader. We thought he’d go on to pro football, but he blew out his knee. My parents tried to stop me from marrying him, but I loved him. I still do, of course,” she added hastily. She wiped her sticky fingers on her jeans. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the ice cream.” She slipped out of the car before he could stop her.
Only when she was back in her truck did she realize she still had the letter.
Naomi felt at the end of her rope. She’d searched with Bree yesterday afternoon, and she was still too tired today to deal with this. Timmy had been impossible all morning. One minute he was lethargic and tearful and the next he was running around the house in circles. She was ready to toss him in the backyard. If Charley had been home to play with, she might have done it too. Timmy seemed to get mad about nothing today, and she wondered if Marika’s appearance had affected him as much as it had Emily.
“That’s it—no more,” she told him when he suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs and lunged at Emily for getting a cookie without getting him one. Naomi picked him up by the waist. Kicking and screaming, he fought her.
She carried him to the living room. “You sit here until you calm down.”
He looked at her piteously. “I don’t feel good, Mom. My stomach hurts.”
Naomi felt Timmy’s head. His skin felt cold and clammy under her fingers. “Are you getting sick on me?” she asked.
He nodded listlessly. “Maybe.”
“We’d better check your blood sugar.” She went to the kitchen and got the supplies down off the high shelf. He’d had his shot this morning, but his agitation and quarrelsome nature clicked in anyway. It looked, smelled, and acted like a sugar reaction. She told herself it might be a cold or the flu, but his sudden lethargy was beginning to scare her.
Timmy began to cry when he saw the tester.
“This is the new one, remember? It doesn’t really hurt,” she soothed. “Just don’t look and you won’t even feel it.”
He continued to sniffle. Naomi evaluated his color and didn’t like what she saw. He looked pasty. Was he trembling? She couldn’t tell if it was from fear or because he was sick. The test over, she glanced at the results and nearly gasped. His sugar was dangerously low, lower than she’d ever seen it. She wasn’t sure what to do.
She grabbed orange juice from the refrigerator. “Here, sweetie, see if this makes you feel better. We’d better take you to see the doctor.” The juice might help, but with his symptoms and his blood sugar this low, she wasn’t about to take any chances.
Timmy drank the juice. After about fifteen minutes, a bit of color began to come back to his face. Naomi dialed the phone and explained to the nurse what had happened.
“Take his count again in fifteen minutes,” the nurse told her. “If it’s not normal by then, bring him in.”
Naomi anxiously watched the clock. Timmy began to fidget and cry when she got the tester again. She soothed him as best she could and checked his blood sugar. Better, but still too low.
“We’ve got to go see the doctor,” she told him. She called Donovan and told him what was happening. He promised to meet her at the office.
Emily seemed surly as they rode to the doctor’s office. “You okay?” Naomi asked her, keeping a worried eye on Timmy.
“I’m okay,” the eight-year-old girl said. “My mom is supposed to call today. If she calls while we’re gone, I’m going to be mad at you.”
Marika again. Naomi wished she could turn the clock back to the days when they were a new family, happy and learning to love one another. Emily had been a different child then. “She’ll call back.”
Emily glowered at her. “Why did you have to marry my dad? My mom says she could have come home with us if it weren’t for you. You’ve spoiled everything.”
Naomi swallowed. She didn’t want to hurt Emily by pointing out her mother was the one who left them. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, her voice low. “But I don’t think your dad would have let your mom come home even if I wasn’t here.”
Emily pressed her lips together and turned to stare out the window. She muttered something.
“What, sweetie? I didn’t hear you.”
Emily turned to glare at her. “I said I hate you! I wish you’d go away.”
“Stop it, Emily!” Timmy shouted. He leaned over and punched her on the arm. “You’re being mean to Mommy.”
“She’s not our mommy!” Emily shrieked so loudly the veins stood out in her neck.
“She is so. I don’t like the other mommy.” Timmy rubbed his eyes and began to cry.
Naomi’s eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly. She had to find a way to get through to Emily.
Donovan met Naomi in the hospital emergency-room entrance. He took his son from her arms. “How bad is he?”
“I don’t know, but I didn’t want to take any chances.” Naomi grabbed Emily’s hand as they went inside. The little girl tried to pull away, but Naomi held tight. Emily needed her support, whether the child realized it or not.
They reached the emergency room, and a figure rose from a chair in the waiting room.
“Mommy!” Emily jerked her hand from Naomi’s and rac
ed to throw herself against Marika, who gripped her hand and hurried to meet Donovan.
“Who called her?” Naomi whispered.
“I did,” Donovan said.
Naomi nearly stopped in the hall, then had to run to catch up with her husband’s long strides. “Why?” she panted.
“She’s his mother. It was the right thing to do.”
Naomi felt a stinging in her face as though she’d been slapped. Marika had been gone for two years, letting other people care for her children, then all she had to do was waltz back into town and pick up where she left off. “I see,” she said carefully.
Further conversation was impossible as the nurse took Timmy back. “Just his mother and father can come now,” she said.
Donovan stopped and looked back at Naomi. “I want my wife with me.”
The nurse started shaking her head, but Donovan grabbed Naomi’s arm. “She’s coming with me.”
Warmth spread through her at his insistence. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Emily needs someone with her. I’ll stay.”
Marika pushed Emily at Naomi then sauntered off with Donovan like a queen with her escort.
Naomi stirred the scrambled eggs without much energy. The TV in the living room was blaring out the Sesame Street theme music, so the kids would be occupied for a while. She’d brooded for two days about Donovan calling Marika. She knew she should talk to him about it, but the hurt was still too fresh.
“Breakfast almost ready? I’m late.” Donovan dropped a kiss on the top of her head and went to the hall without waiting for an answer.
Donovan was a man of habit and ritual. Every morning he showered, dressed, kissed her, got the newspaper, and read it while he ate his breakfast. Sometimes Naomi wanted to grab him by the shoulders when he came down and tell him he couldn’t read the paper this morning. She could just imagine the look on his face.
Things were busy at the store, Naomi knew that. He was still just as tender and sweet when he came home at night, but his distraction rattled her. She’d known marrying a man with a family would be different than being a newlywed with no other people in the house, but she hadn’t realized how little time there would be for just the two of them. Their time alone was practically nonexistent.
Donovan came back in the kitchen with the paper in his hand. “Gosh, I’m late.” He opened the paper, grabbed his coffee, and took a sip.
Naomi pulled out a chair and sat at the table with him. “I need to talk to you.”
He lowered his paper. “Something wrong?”
He still wasn’t really listening. She could tell it by his tone and the way his eyes kept straying back to the headlines.
“Yes. Very wrong. Please put the paper down and look at me.”
His eyebrows rose, but he did as she asked, folding the paper and setting it off to the side of his plate. “You sound mad. Did I do something?”
She almost relented at the tone of panic in his voice, but steeling her resolve, she folded her hands in front of her and stared at him hard. “You shouldn’t have called Marika.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it best.” He put his hand out, palm up, the way he did when he wanted to hold her hand. She ignored it.
“What would you have done if she wasn’t in town?”
“You’re not making any sense. I couldn’t have called her if I didn’t know where she was, now could I? But since I had her number, I thought she should know.” He smiled and put an arm around her. “I never meant to hurt you, princess.”
At his pet nickname, she almost wilted. But this battle needed to be fought now. She slid out from under his embrace. “I realize that, but she abdicated her rights when she deserted you and the children.” She saw him wince but rushed on anyway. “I just think her presence was upsetting to the children. They still are trying to find their way in this whole mess. It’s not like Timmy’s life was in danger. I had it under control.”
He was silent.
“What—you don’t think I’m handling it?” she demanded.
“Don’t get mad at me. I know you’re trying your best,” he said. “But Timmy never used to have these sugar swings. He’s had two in a week now. We need to figure out what he’s eating.”
“You think I’m feeding him stuff he shouldn’t eat? I follow his diet to the letter! And I set the timer for his shot. It’s not my fault, Donovan. Does Marika say it is?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her about it.”
“But you’ve been thinking it.” She sat back, deflated and near tears.
“I didn’t say it’s your fault. You’re putting words in my mouth.” He grabbed her hand and didn’t let go when she tried to pull it away. “Look at me. I know you would never hurt Timmy. But we all need to work together to figure this out. That includes Marika.”
Jealousy boiled in the pit of her stomach. She’d never felt it before and didn’t like the way it made her breath come in short gasps.
She swallowed the rage. “Why don’t you start giving him his shot? Then you’ll know it’s done right.” She stood and went back to the stove. She turned the heat on under the skillet and poured the egg mixture into it.
His chair scraped against the floor, but she didn’t turn to look.
“I can almost see the steam coming out of your ears,” he whispered in her ear. He slipped his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her against his chest.
Naomi stiffened. He shouldn’t think a few sweet words would mellow her out. Her eyes burned, and she blinked rapidly.
“I’m sorry, Naomi. You’re doing a phenomenal job with the kids, the house. My life was a mess before you came. But even more, you’ve filled up all the lonely places.” His lips roamed to the side of her face and down to her neck.
Determined not to cry, she sagged against him. “I’m afraid of Marika,” she said in a small voice.
Donovan laughed. “She’s more pitiful than scary.”
“You’re not a woman. I’ve heard for years how beautiful she was and how much you loved her.”
“Loved is the operative word there. That was over long before she left. You’re more than just beautiful—you’re good. Your beauty is inside and outside both. Marika’s was merely external. You have nothing to fear from her.”
His breath whispered across her neck and she shivered.
Nothing to fear. She prayed that was true. Then why did she feel that her happy home teetered on the brink of disaster?
The doorbell rang, and she turned in his arms. Kissing him quickly, she pulled his hands from her waist. “You want to get that? I’ll finish these eggs and you can eat.”
He turned with obvious reluctance and went down the hall. The front door opened, and she heard the murmur of voices. It almost sounded like Mason, so she wondered if she was needed for a new search. She slid the skillet off the heat and followed Donovan to the door.
Mason stood with his hands in his pocket and an apologetic expression on his face. He nodded to Naomi. “Morning, Naomi.”
Donovan was staring at a paper. “Marika is suing for custody of the kids,” he whispered.
Naomi gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Donovan.”
“Sorry, Donovan,” Mason said. “I know this comes as a shock. For what it’s worth, I doubt she has a snowball’s chance.”
Donovan’s big hand crushed the paper, and he tossed it into a corner. “She’s not getting my kids.”
Mason’s eyes were kind, and he nodded toward the wadded up paper. “That won’t solve anything. You’ll be getting another one in the mail you’ll have to fill out.”
“We have to call a lawyer,” Naomi said shakily. “Will we have to go to court?”
Mason nodded. “Try to keep the kids from having to testify though.”
“They’re not stepping foot inside a courtroom.” Donovan slipped his arm around Naomi’s waist and drew her to his side. “How’s she getting the money to do this? She doesn’t have anything.”
Mason shru
gged. “All I know is she’s doing it. So you’d better get prepared.”
15
Bree trudged into Nicholls’s Finnish Imports. Anu stood folding Tshirts at a display table. Her bright smile dimmed when she saw Bree’s face.
“Ah, kulta, I see your day on your face. You need a hug. Come here.” She held out her arms, and Bree allowed herself to be wrapped in them.
“He’s gone, Anu. I think he’s gone for good.”
“It’s only been a week, Bree. Do not give up yet. I’ve been praying, and I believe we will find our Samson.”
Bree pulled back and looked into her mother-in-law’s face. “Really, Anu? You really believe that?”
“I know it in my heart. You must believe too.”
“I wish I could.” Bree stepped away and fished in her pocket for a tissue. “Where’s Davy?”
“He is fine, kulta. Naomi has him.”
“How’s Hilary doing? I haven’t talked to her since Samson was taken. She called and left a message on my machine. She said she was so sorry about Samson.”
“In spite of her dislike of dogs, she likes Samson more than she admits.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter. “What did you and Davy do today?”
“I took Davy to visit his grandfather.” Anu said.
“When does Abraham expect to be moved to the state prison?”
“Soon, perhaps as early as next week. I wanted to see him before he went. The pastor has been to see him every few days, and I have hopes that he will accept Christ soon.”
Anu’s face was glowing, and Bree gave a slight smile. “It amazes me that you can still show concern and love for him after he deserted you for thirty years. You know all he did, but you can still forgive him.”
“To harbor bitterness would accomplish nothing,” Anu said. “It would hurt me more than it would harm him. God loves him just as much as he loves me. All people are able to be redeemed.”
“I don’t know about that,” Bree said.
“Ah, I see by your face, you are thinking of your parents. You must let go of that bitterness, kulta. If you do not root it out, it will send its tentacles into every area of your life. It was your mother’s birthday recently, no?”