Bay Hideaway (9 page)

“I’m not a horrible, unfeeling person, Nathan,” she muttered, feeling wounded. “I’m hurting inside, too. Can’t you see that?” To know he believed her capable of such self-seeking, deliberate treachery and deceit was too much to endure. Yet hadn’t she thought as much of him? “I’ll admit, when I formed this plan, your comfort and well-being were not highly considered. After all, you were the reason for the plan.” Taking a steadying breath, she rose from her seat and faced him. “You claim to know nothing of the threats, but how do I know?” She felt a rush of heat come into her cheeks. “I’m not sure what scares me more—the possibility that you’re innocent or the prospect of your guilt.”

Nathan gave her a long, searching look. “Finding me guilty would make it so much easier for you, wouldn’t it? Then you could write me off as getting what I deserved.” Judi felt her pulse quicken as his eyes darkened. “But if I’m innocent—then what? Then I’ve become a victim, maybe even more so than you, and at the hand of my very own wife, the one who vowed to love and cherish me until death.”

Judi sank back onto the hard, unforgiving bench seat, her stomach already sinking even lower. Like a lightning-fast whiplash to the back, his words stung appallingly close to home, leaving her flesh exposed. He was right! It would be much easier if he were guilty of the crimes she’d laid at his feet. If she was wrong… an unbearable weight of sin lay at her door. Which scenario was right? Her whole body moaned in fear of what the answer might be. Could she have mistaken the circumstantial evidence and foolishly blundered into a wrong conclusion? She was so sure at the time. Would she never get things right… not during adolescence… not now… not ever?

“And what about you?” Nathan continued with force. “Did you plan to stay alone and single for the rest of your life? Or have you already violated our marriage as part of your new life and identity?” She saw a muscle tighten in his cheek. “Maybe that’s not black and white enough for you when you account to God.”

Judi felt the heat and color drain from her face. “I’ve always honored our marriage and not once, not ever, have I broken my vows of faithfulness to you, not even after what you”—she broke off for a second—“or what I thought you had done.”

His accusation burned like acid against her core. She was a woman running for her life and the lives of her family, not a promiscuous floozy on the make. What did he take her for? She knew going into this plan that she would never know another man’s companionship. That was part of the sacrifice that had to be made.

They stared at one another, reluctantly squaring off into opposite corners of throbbing hurt. She knew this would be a match with no winners—only losers.

“Ah, Judi!” he suddenly exclaimed, breaking the silence in what she recognized as exasperation. He leaned forward to grasp both of her hands and held them tightly. By the intensity of his gaze, she knew he was fighting powerful emotions. “I’m trying to deal with this as best I can. I know I’m angry. I can’t help feeling angry with you, with the person who wrote you those notes—even with God.” His voice turned husky. “Somehow, I have to get past this anger if we’re going to solve this problem.” He gazed down at her hands, still tightly held by his. “We’ll have to settle our trust issues to make this work.”

Judi slanted a wary look at Nathan. “Exactly what did you have in mind?”

He looked up. “Prayer!”

“Prayer?”

“I don’t know if my commitment to God is a counterfeit or not, but I have to give Him a try. I have to put Him to the test.” His handsome face assumed a pained but determined expression. “So, from this point on, we’re going to approach this problem God’s way. No more deceptions, no more lies, and no more hate.”

His last word sprang instantly to the forefront. Hate? Nathan hated her? If he was innocent of the accusations, she knew he had every right to detest her. Yet it didn’t make it any easier to stomach. She blinked back the stinging pain at the thought.

“Agreed?” Nathan was still talking.

Judi wondered how she could stay so calm. Nathan hated her! It wasn’t love motivating his concern for her. Then what—his Christian duty? Would his hate turn into revulsion once he discovered the secrets held by the letters? That she could sit across from him while he held her hands and not totally break down from the upheaval within was something she couldn’t comprehend. Casually, she looked back at him. “Agreed!”

He seemed satisfied with her answer. “Then we start by asking God what we should do.”

When Nathan closed his eyes and dropped his head to pray, Judi could only watch him, feeling the penetrating warmth of his hands. What she wouldn’t have given for Nathan to have shared her faith during their first year of marriage. Now he was acting like the man of God she’d always wanted. Yet this man no longer loved her, and their bonds of devoted loyalty had been broken long ago.

“We need Your help,” Nathan prayed as she observed with interest. “Judi didn’t ask for advice before becoming this new person, and I didn’t ask for Your guidance in coming to Bay Island. Then I came here in anger and for that, I need to ask Your forgiveness.” He paused, and she noticed his eyelids tightened, his thick, dark lashes compressed firmly. “We don’t know who to trust other than You—we can’t even trust each other. Give us wisdom about how to proceed and show us whom we can consult with in confidence. This time we want to do things Your way and not ours. That might be a sticking point for both of us, but we’ll do our best.” Judi could hear him take a deep cleansing breath. “Help me to know if I’m doing this Christianity thing right. If I’m not, show me what I need to do. In Your Son’s name, amen.”

When he looked up, Judi didn’t bother to hide the fact she’d been gawking at him. With a prayer like that, how could Nathan even question his commitment to God? His humble prayer was so much more than her stuffy prayer list of complaints and wants, and tenfold better than the most eloquent churchy prayers. For the first time, a seed of hope began to sprout. Although there seemed to be no good ending to their dilemma and ominous consequences would still have to be faced regardless, knowing that God was going to run the program gave her hope.

Nathan slowly released her hands and gave her a wry grin. “Better eat your food before it gets cold.”

“Too late, I’m afraid,” she returned with a small laugh. Surprisingly, she did feel a twinge of hunger where a cumbersome ball of worry had previously occupied. She carefully unwrapped the foil and sniffed at the cool but delicious aroma of the frankfurter buried within the butter-grilled bun.

“Here’s some mustard.” Nathan handed her a yellow packet. “You were never one to eat a naked hot dog.”

“Thanks!” She tore off a corner and spread a strip of velvety mustard down the length of the hot dog.

Nathan was watching her over his hamburger as he prepared to take a bite.
“Bon appétit.”

She threw him a tiny smile and, swinging her hot dog up to him, touched his hamburger in a toast.
“Bon appétit.”

“I know this is difficult for you, but we need to go over what is written in each of the letters,” Nathan said, spreading his sheets of notes on the coffee table in Judi’s living room. “If we’re going to get to the bottom of this God’s way, it will require knowing the whole truth.”

Judi stared plainly at him from across the table, curled up in a wingback chair with her bare feet tucked under her, a cup of tea in one hand. There was a slight trembling of her hand that belied the calm look on her face, and the cup clattered faintly when she placed it on the table. “I’m ready.”

“It makes sense to start with the first letter and try to track them chronologically.” He looked through the small sheets of notepaper until he found his first handwritten copy. Once again, he held it at arm’s length, wishing he’d remembered his reading glasses. “You mentioned that this one was sent to you around the time when the sugar was poured into the gas tank of your car. I’m assuming the good Amish girl the person speaks about is you. What does the writer mean about you having your hand in the till and a mug shot?”

Judi’s gaze faltered for a moment, and he watched her gnaw slowly at her bottom lip. “Yes,” she finally answered with disdain in her voice, her gaze switching to the plush carpet. “I’m the good Amish girl with the ‘hair full of curls.’ You already know that I wasn’t born into an Amish family, but like you, we lived among the Amish in the community. I was often referred to by my schoolmates as the Amish girl because of an old-fashioned bonnet my father bought me for Christmas one year while in elementary school.”

“Go on.”

“The mug shot refers to a time during my youth when I tried to shoplift an especially expensive piece of jewelry from Langerton’s department store.” She paused long enough to look at him, and Nathan willed his features to stay neutral. “To make a long story short, I was caught and because the item was rather costly, I was sent to the juvenile center and then to court.”

Nathan leaned back. “Then what happened?”

“There were the mandatory private and group classes for a year with a county juvenile corrections counselor.” She pursed her lips. “I attended like I should and kept my nose clean. In return, the county cleared my juvenile record.”

“Tell me about the mug shot.” He made every effort to keep his voice sounding professional, much like he would when talking with a client. He knew he was a skilled interviewer who could maintain a poker face, even though the information might bounce around like an emotionally charged firecracker inside his brain—like it was right now. This professional demeanor, however, would be hard to sustain. She was his wife, not a client.

“The mug shot?” she repeated, shaking her head slowly. “It wasn’t a mug shot in the real sense. It was a picture the juvenile center took for their files, that’s all. They used the photos for identification to make sure the right teen, not a paid substitute, showed up for the classes.”

“You’re sure this is the mug shot the writer is referring to?”

“Quite sure!” she said with certainty. “A copy of the photo accompanied the note.” When he tossed her a questioning glance, she quickly added, “I tore up the photo in anger. But I assure you it was the same picture.”

“How do you suppose the person acquired it?” he asked. “If your record was purged, the photo should have gone with it years ago.”

Judi spread her hands halfheartedly in front of her. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Did anyone else have a copy of the picture?”

She shook her head. “No one!” Straightening slowly, she cocked her head. “I did have an identification badge with the same picture, but I don’t remember what became of it. I’m assuming it had to be turned in.”

Nathan penned the information inside a black spiral-bound notebook and looked up. “The note mentions you having a hand in the till. What do you make of that?”

“I’m afraid that refers to another unflattering time when I was seventeen.” She took a sip of tea and lowered the cup a little, the slight tremor becoming more pronounced. “I was working at the Old Village Inn at the time.”

Nathan fingered through his sheets. “The same Old Village Inn noted in the ugly rat letter?”

“Yes.” This seemed especially hard for her. She finally put the cup down on the table, let her legs drop to the floor, and sat nervously on the edge of the chair. “I worked as a cashier at the restaurant and…” Clearly agitated, she popped up from the chair and wrapped her arms protectively around her waist. “I’m not proud of what I did, Nathan. You have to believe me about that.”

“It’s all right, Judi,” he soothed, his attorney persona taking over. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Here’s the whole ugly truth.” Her small voice quivered on an uncertain note. “For weeks I would make change for some of the customers without entering in the ticket at the time of sale. Then I would later change the server’s slip to reflect lower charges by either deleting a meal, a dessert, or sometimes the entire order, and pocket the difference.”

Nathan rubbed the nape of his neck in thought. How could he have been so ignorant of Judi’s past? More importantly, how did this past line up with the woman he married—the woman she was today? He didn’t like being deceived and made to look like a fool. Others had tried to tell him the match between them wasn’t right. Could they have seen what he so blindly missed?

With effort he kept his tone even and asked, “You were caught?”

“The manager suspected me and gave me the option of quitting or being fired. So I quit.”

“No formal charges or investigation?”

She shook her head. “I was lucky that time.”

“Who else knew about this?”

“There might have been one or two classmates who also worked at the restaurant,” she answered slowly, her mind evidently searching back in time. “I’m sure my father suspected and my brother Tony probably knew.”

“Anyone else?”

“No one I can think of.”

“Why did you steal the money, Judi?” He was working to keep his reaction and resentment in check, remembering his pledge to God. Still, he had to know what had motivated her to live under such an umbrella of indiscretion.

By the look on her face, it was evident Judi was looking for just the right words. “That’s a hard question.”