Dread Champion (26 page)
“Well.” Brett turned away. “Let's go get our suitcases. I'll show you to your room.”
The room had been Tracey's, Brett told her moments later as he set her suitcase on a high queen-size bed with a frothy beige coverlet. “But it looks a lot better with you in it.”
He smiled but Kerra heard the underlying tone. “You didn't like her, did you. Or your stepmother.”
Brett looked at the floor. “No.”
There was so much they couldn't talk about. The strangeness of their situation constantly etched its way into their conversations and silences. Kerra felt a lopsidedness to their relationship that was unsettling. She longed to know as much about Brett as she had told him about herself, but didn't know how to ask. Somehow she sensed that all the roads of his past led to the trial. Clearly, that was one thing he did not want to discuss.
They went to dinner in a lovely seaside restaurant in Monterey, Kerra gazing at the surf as she formed safe questions in her mind. Slowly she was able to pull from Brett stories of growing up on the ranch, working alongside his father, his closeness to his mother. He even opened up enough to tell her of his yearning to have a closer relationship with his father. She fervently wished they could talk about the trial, but that remained a subject they couldn't broach. Brett wanted to be closer to his father, but Darren Welk certainly looked guilty. Did Brett believe that? Could he want his father found innocent, even if he knew the truth?
“Kerra.Where's your head?” Brett pushed aside his coffee cup and reached for her hand.
Her throat tightened. Her head was everywhere and nowhere. She still could hardly believe she was with him, that she was finally beginning to care for someone else. This wasn't wrong; it couldn't be.After all the horrible months, she needed this newness in her life. Dave would have wanted it for her.
She would not turn aside from Brett now,Kerra told herself decisively. She would not.
“My head's right here, Brett,” she said. “Right here with you.”
He smiled and her heart surged. They were silent for a moment.
“Mind if I ask you something?” he ventured.
She pressed his fingers. “Anything.”
He hesitated, as if gathering his thoughts.“Remember when you told me the difference between religion and Christianity?”
Oh no, not this topic again.
“Uh-huh.”
“I've been wondering. If God reached out to man through Christ, like you said, then what are
we
supposed to do? I mean, I'm thinking about my trying to reach out to Dad. That's all well and good, but he's got to reach back, know what I mean? It takes two.”
Kerra nodded slowly, her mind casting about for the merest of answers. Then the irony hit her.After she accepted Christ, she'd been so gung ho to talk to
anyone
about her faith.Now here she was,with someone she cared for, someone who needed all the divine help he could get, and her tongue didn't want to form the words. Didn't want to speak of the truths that deep in her heart she knew were right.
She gazed into Brett's questioning face, wavering between her own selfishness and his desire to know.
“I know what you mean,” she said. “And you're right.” She took a deep breath and plunged in.“God sent Jesus Christ, his Son, to die on the cross for our sins. That was his part. Our part is to accept Christ as our Savior.Ask him to forgive us of our sins, and turn our lives over to him. Then we can live every day having a direct relationship with God. Just as you want a closer relationship with your earthly father, God wants to be your heavenly Father.” She tilted her head, looking at him from the corner of her eye.
His brow furrowed. “Is that what you did?”
She nodded.
Silence hung between them. Kerra could not find a word to fill it. Brett reached up and grazed her cheek with his finger.“Well. That must be one of the things that makes you so special.”
They left the restaurant hand in hand, Kerra practically trembling. Before unlocking the car, Brett pulled her close. She leaned against him, feeling the strength of his chest, his arms. He placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted back her head, drinking in the sight of her. “I can't believe I found you.”
Kerra swallowed. Her breathing grew shallow. “Well,” she said, vainly attempting lightness, “I'm glad you did.”
His eyes fell to her mouth. Kerra's ankles shook. He lowered his face and kissed her, his lips like warm velvet. Kerra dug fingertips into his hair, her other hand slipping around his neck. All her anxieties melted away. For that long, pendant moment the world stood still. She felt only Brett, wanted only Brett. Not until a car turned into the parking lot, bathing them with headlights, did they pull apart.
She rested a hand on his knee as they drove back to his house. They sat for the next three hours on his family room couch, talking, kissing. Brett turned more lighthearted than she'd ever seen him.He even managed to laugh.
When Kerra slipped into her bed that night, she could still feel that first kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes and relived it. A sudden, fierce longing surged through herâthe longing to nurture, to protect. Brett
needed
her. She was going to stick by him. And she hopedâoh, she hopedâthis relationship would lead somewhere.
She could not be hurt again.
Chelsea awoke in the middle of the night, her mind tangled with thoughts of the trial â¦Kerra ⦠Brett. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:20. For over an hour she fought to clear her head, but to no avail. Finally she turned on the reading light. She sat up in bed and pulled her Bible off the nightstand.
What is it,God?
She opened her Bible to the Psalms, seeking comfort, peace. She read various psalms of praise and of God's protection over his people. Of his majesty and mercy.
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
             My God,my rock, in whom I take refuge;
My shield and the horn of my salvation,my stronghold.
A half hour later Chelsea still could not relax. She lay the Bible aside and began to pray.
First she prayed for Paul in England, for her sons at camp. Then she began to pray for Kerra. After that she moved on to the judge, the attorneys, the jurors, each by name. At first she prayed silently, then in a whisper. Before long she was speaking aloud. She prayed particularly for Tak Nagakura, who looked at her with hard, cold eyes.And for Hesta and Latonia and Gloria, all of whom treated her with indifference.
Then she began to think of Brett. She could not turn her mind away from him. Chelsea found herself praying for his salvation, his friendship with Kerra.
She prayed, listened for further guidance, prayed some more. Another name began crowding into her thoughts, slowly at first.Milt Waking. She pushed it aside. She was busy praying for Brett and Kerra. Besides, what did Milt Waking do other than air salacious news reports? Chelsea felt not one ounce of sympathy for the man.
She continued to pray for Brett. But the reporter's name grew stronger in her mind until she could no longer convince herself that this thought had not come from God.
All right, Lord.
Her heart resisted even as she obeyed.
How should Ipray for him?
For some time she sat, eyes closed, waiting for understanding, asking God for sensitivity on her part to hear him. Twice she tried to move on to pray for someone else, but her spirit would not let her rest.
Milt Waking,Milt Waking.
In time she sensed a leading, initially vague, then growing clearer.
God had chosen specifically to work through Milt's actions during the trial.
Could that possibly be right?
Chelsea couldn't shake the thought.Nor could she help but react.
Oh, wonderful, Lord. Selfish, grandiose, non-Christian-if-there-ever-was- one Milt Waking. Couldn't you have chosen somebody else?
Besides, what can he possibly do?
Chelsea sighed.How she wished she could ignore this. Then she remembered the stories in the Bible about the Israelites' release from captivity.How, after Daniel prayed,God had chosen the pagan Babylonian king as his special servant to bring about these events. God was sovereign, he was reminding her. He would work through whomever he chose. She was not to question. She was to stay faithful and do her partâwhich would be key.
Yes, Lord, okay.
For a long time Chelsea prayed for Milt Waking and for those who would come into contact with him as the trial progressed. She prayed that God would work through the man whether he realized it or not. That Milt's actions, even those that might be wrong or selfish, would be used for God's glory.
By the time Chelsea felt she could stop praying, the clock read 5:45. She hoped to get a few more hours' rest. She turned out the light and lay down.
As sleep overtook her, she sensed God calling her to fast for the day and to continue praying. Terrific. She couldn't fast without the whole jury knowing. She'd have to stay behind as they were taken out to dinner.
Oh boy, Iwonder how they'll react to that.
Her last waking thought was of Tak's hostile eyes.
Rogelio pulled his car in front of Kristin's house and shut off the engine. Her fancy Mustang was not in the driveway. He tapped the steering wheel,made hot by the Saturday afternoon sun.With a sigh he pulled himself out and climbed the three steps to her porch. Rang the doorbell. Her mother answered. All words froze in Rogelio's throat.He'd never known what to say to this woman after her daughter's pregnancy could no longer be hidden. Surely she blamed him.
“Is Kristin home?”
She stared at him. “She's out with friends.”
Was it his imagination, or had she emphasized the word
friends?
In the past he would have turned away, but the insistent drumbeat of his mission urged him on. “Do you know where?”
“No.”
They locked eyes. Rogelio felt his jaw harden. Fine. He'd find Kristin himself.
“Thanks.”He strode back to his car, chin high.As he drove away, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Kristin's mom stood watching him, arms folded.
He searched Salinas for an hour, cruising by homes of Kristin's various friends, checking the movie theater parking lot. Finally he spotted her car, its top down, parked in front of a Seven-Eleven.He pulled into a space in the shade of the building and waited. Two minutes later she emerged, a slushie in her hand, with a girl he did not recognize. He got out of his car. “Kristin.”
She spotted him and pulled to a halt.Her shoulders sagged, then raised with defiance. “I don't want to see you, Rogelio.”With purpose she headed for her car.He sprang toward it and slapped a palm against the door.
“We have to talk, Kristin. It won't take long.”
“No. Get away from my car.” Her sea green eyes narrowed. The friend hung back, brows knitting with concern.
Kristin's coldness cut through Rogelio like a knife.He worked to keep his voice steady. “I'm not moving until you say you'll talk to me.”
“Oh yeah? Fine then. Here I am; say what you have to say.” She strutted within two feet of him, clunked the drink on the hood of her car, and tossed her head. A strand of white blond hair caught on the corner of her lips. Any effort to pull it away would have ruined her prideful pose. She didn't move.
An ache welled up in Rogelio's chest. Did she really think she fooled him, with her pink nails spread across her hips, her mouth in a taut line? He looked through her eyes, deep within her, and saw simmering pain and fear. With one finger he reached out and brushed the strand of hair away from her mouth. Her expression almost softened, then reassembled itself.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
His gaze roved to her friend. “You sure you want to talk right here?”
“I have nothing to hide.”
He winced at her desperate lie.“Come on,Kristin,” he urged with a sad smile, “just sit in my car with me for a minute, out of the sun.”
She swallowed, fighting to retain her hardened mask. Clearly, his gentleness rattled her. “If I do, will you promise to leave me alone?” She sounded almost like a child.
“Kristin. Leaving you âalone' is the last thing I'd do.”
Her eyes closed, whether in resignation or at his meaning, he wasn't sure. She half-turned to her friend. “I'll be back in a minute, Tanya.”
They sat in Rogelio's car, his heart doing an odd little dance. The tan of Kristin's skin, the lightness of her hair against the white seats, flooded him with memories. He longed for so many things at that moment, he hardly knew where to begin. “I've been looking into the adoption. I talked with Janet Cline, Shawna Welk's partner. It looks like the adoption wasn't legal, Kristin. Certain things were supposed to be done, and they weren't.”
He watched the information play across her face.“What things?”
“We were both supposed to have meetings with Janet.And I was supposed to sign in front of witnesses.”He paused. “Did you know that?”
She shook her head.
“Were there witnesses when you signed your paper?”
Kristin considered her lap, frowning. “Yeah. Shawna and her daughter, Tracey.”
“Did you meet twice with Janet Cline? She said she doesn't know your name.”
She stared at him, lips parted.“No.”
Fresh hope unfolded in Rogelio's chest.He blew out air. “I'll have to go to court. Janet's going to help me. It won't be easy; she's already warned me. But I'm going to get Roselita back.”
Kristin's shoulders drew inward, her hard pretense gone. “And you don't care what it'll do to me.”
He leaned toward her. “Of course I do.More than you know.”
“Then why are you doing it?” she blurted, tears seeping into her eyes. “What if you get me into trouble? No one but you and my mom knows where the money came from. I don't want my car taken away from me! And I don't want to see the baby again.” Her words tumbled. “I
can't.
You don't know what it's like having a baby and then giving it up!”
