Love Remains (13 page)

Patrick cleared his throat, but Flannery wasn’t finished.

“And you also have to look at what someone has been through in her…or his life. For example, someone who’s been emotionally abused is going to be affected by that for her—or his—whole life, no matter how strong of a Christian they are. If they were told often enough they would never be good enough, would never succeed at anything, it’s something they may never get over.” Flannery’s gaze shifted briefly toward Bobby—and the effect was just like the time he’d fallen through the ice and into the pond behind his great-uncle’s home in northern Minnesota…in January.

Did Flannery think he’d said those kinds of things to Zarah? After all, that was obviously to whom she was referring. What kinds of stories—lies—had Zarah told about him?

Patrick took advantage of Flannery’s pause to regain control of
the discussion. “Yes, abusive relationships are quite damaging, and the affects linger. And Flannery is correct: We are all gifted differently and have different personalities. It isn’t for us to judge someone else’s calling or their relationship with God. Now, the next question…”

Everyone in the group appeared relieved at Patrick’s change in subject and jumped all over each other to answer the next question.

Whether or not Flannery believed he had emotionally abused Zarah, something wasn’t quite right in this group. While everyone seemed to rely on Zarah, to depend on her for things to run smoothly, it seemed very few people had any respect or feelings of true friendship for her. Her constant self-deprecation probably didn’t help. Just as Patrick had trained them to actively participate through his leadership style, Zarah had trained them to think as little of her as she thought of herself.

Flannery might think Bobby responsible, but he’d seen and heard the way General Mitchell treated his younger daughter. He’d heard him call her a “fat cow” and “useless for pretty much anything.” He’d done his best during the six months they dated to try to offset the horrible things the general said to her—and had apparently been saying to her all her life. That was why Bobby couldn’t understand how Zarah could have chosen her father over him.

Could Dennis Forrester have seen her weakness and figured out how to exploit it for his own gain?

Bobby clenched his back teeth together. He couldn’t go undercover. But he had access to Zarah—in addition to a past with her—that provided the perfect opportunity to try to find out what was really going on.

He was going to have to make her fall for him again—or at least become friendly toward him—without getting hurt by her a second time.

“Don’t forget, if you’re planning to go see
The Music Man
at JRU
two weeks from Friday, get your money to Zarah tonight.” Patrick’s voice boomed over the din of voices and shrieks of chairs being shoved across the tile floor.

Zarah, on her way toward the door and escape—from Bobby, from Lyssa Thompson, from everyone—stopped and took a deep breath.

In college, Flannery and Caylor had started teasing Zarah for having a third ear—one that could hear every single conversation going on around her while still allowing her to concentrate on the conversation she was in. Sometimes it was a blessing. Other times, like tonight, it was a curse; she’d heard only too clearly that Lyssa had started in again on her diatribe against anyone—Zarah especially—who wasn’t as extroverted as she thought he or she should be. And of course Flannery had taken the bait. At least this time, Flannery hadn’t called Zarah by name when trying to defend her.

Three people wrote Zarah checks for their tickets to the drama department’s fall musical presentation at JRU. With Caylor playing the role of Mrs. Paroo, Flannery and Zarah had decided getting the biggest group possible to attend on opening night would be one of the best gifts they could give her. Zarah had requested a block of twenty-five tickets be set aside for them—and so far, she had sold vouchers for seventeen of them: thirteen adults and four children. She would be taking Kiki and Pops—along with Caylor’s grandmother, Sassy—to the Saturday matinee performance the next day.

“Want to go grab something to eat?” Flannery hooked her arm through Zarah’s when the last ticket buyer walked away.

Zarah lifted the antique pendant-watch that hung from the long chain around her neck.

“It’s only eight thirty. I hoped we could chat. I have something I need to tell you.” Flannery cocked her head. “I know there’s no way you left work early enough to make it here for supper at five thirty. So, come on. Let’s go eat.”

Zarah heaved a dramatic sigh. “Oh, all right. But somewhere cheap.”

“I know. You and your dishwasher. I wish you’d just take the money out of your savings account and go ahead and buy the stupid thing. But then, all I’d be hearing about would be replenishing your savings account. It’s always something with you.” Flannery pulled out her buzzing cell phone and started tapping the screen. “How about Fido?”

“Fine.” Zarah knew better than to try to continue conversing with Flannery once the phone came out. Between calls, texts, and e-mails, the device kept her so tied to work that Zarah could only laugh when Flannery accused her of working too much. So she’d best not mention she had a ton of work to do tonight on the Metro Council and senate committee reports.

“I’ll…” Flannery’s pale brows knit, and her lips pursed. She looked up at Zarah. “I’ll see you there in a few minutes. I have to go make a call.” She started dialing and had the phone to her ear before she made it out the door.

Shaking her head, Zarah put the checks for tickets into her wallet and dropped it into her carryall. The leather bag had turned out to be one of the best hundred dollars she’d ever spent, even though she’d agonized over parting with the money three months ago when the messenger-style book bag she’d carried ever since college had finally disintegrated. Not only did the leather tote look more professional, but with its three compartments and myriad of smaller pockets, she was no longer frustrated by the lack of organization of all the stuff she had to carry around with her. And the new, smaller laptop Dennis had insisted on upgrading her to fit in it perfectly.

“Have room for one more?”

Hollow dread filled Zarah’s chest—Bobby was inviting himself to supper with her and Flannery? She swallowed hard, then turned. Bobby stood a considerate few feet away, hands behind his back as if in an at-ease stance before a superior officer. She slapped a smile on. “One more?”

“At the musical.”

“Oh, of course. Tickets are fifteen dollars.” She crossed her arms—then realized the implication of the closed body language and dropped them to her sides.

“Cash okay?” Bobby pulled a sleek black wallet out of his back pocket and extracted a five and a ten.

“Yes. That’s fine.” She took the cash from him, careful not to touch it anywhere in the vicinity of his fingers to minimize the risk of touching him. What she thought would happen if they made incidental contact, she wasn’t certain. She just didn’t want to find out.

She pulled a ticket voucher out of her bag and handed it to him. “I’ll be getting the actual tickets next Thursday night and will exchange one for the voucher later.”

“Thanks.” He tucked the slip of paper into his wallet and returned it to his pocket. Instead of walking away, though, he hesitated.

“Was there something else?” Zarah felt as uncomfortable as he looked. Good, he should be uncomfortable standing here in front of her, knowing what he had done to her.

“I just wanted to say…I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot the other night. Since it looks like I’m going to be moving my membership back to this church, I don’t want there to be any”—he scratched his cheek—”weirdness between us.”

This time, she didn’t care what it looked like or what message it sent when she crossed her arms. “Weirdness between us?” She pressed her lips together and frowned as if considering the statement. Nervousness over saying anything to him sped her heart, but growing anger quickened her tongue. “Now why would there be any weirdness between us? I can’t imagine. Yes. We knew each other a long time ago, but that was a long time ago. Lots of things have changed since then. I don’t know about you, but I’ve moved on from that and can’t really see the benefit of allowing things said and done during childhood affect who I am now and whether or not I’m living a happy and productive life.”

When had she become such a proficient liar? Moved on? Ha. Not
hardly. But she kept her expression as neutral and friendly as she could make it.

“Oh. Okay. I just thought…well, it seemed like things were… rather uncomfortable between us the last couple of times, and I wanted to be sure everything was okay between us.”

She smiled and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Running in quickly on the heels of the initial flash of anger she experienced, regret, sorrow, pain, and remorse grabbed her throat in a vise grip. She needed to get out of here before she showed him any signs she wasn’t completely in control.

He mirrored her shrug. “As I said, I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” He backed away a few steps. “I guess I’ll see you Sunday, then.”

“Guess so.” She flung the straps of her carryall onto her shoulder and fled the classroom, not slowing down until she reached her car, parked in the lot across the street from the church in front of a vacant restaurant building. She blamed the tears leaking out the corners of her eyes on the wheezing and coughing the quick retreat had caused.

She had to pull herself together before she saw Flannery. For as much as the girl was one of her best friends, Zarah didn’t trust Flannery to keep the peace with Bobby if she knew just how anguished Zarah continued to be at the very sight of the man.

He seemed taller now than he had been when she’d known him—and given that he’d turned twenty during the months they’d dated, that shouldn’t be surprising. He’d measured in at six-foot-one back then, but he must be at least six-three by now. He hadn’t lost his football player physique, either. And his brown hair was longer—by at least a quarter of an inch—than the army-standard buzz cut he’d sported then.

Was it possible for a man’s jaw to get squarer over time? Then, it had imbued her with a sense of security in the strength he’d offered her. Now, it gave him an air of stubbornness and obstinacy.

She shook her head and started the car. If he wanted to whitewash
the past and pretend nothing ever happened between them, she could play that game. There were plenty of other people in this large singles’ group whom she didn’t particularly care for, but with whom she made an effort to be polite and friendly. He could go right into that category.

Zarah didn’t see Flannery inside Fido when she arrived, but hungry as she was, she went ahead and ordered rather than waiting. Flannery would have done the same thing. She’d just found a small table in the middle of the crowded coffee shop when Flannery came in, phone still to her ear.

Flannery acknowledged Zarah, then went to the counter and placed her order, not even bothering to remove the phone from her ear. She had perfected the art of doing everything one-handed, but only because she hated using the wireless earpiece that came with her phone—she didn’t want people to think she was talking to herself, she’d said.

“Tell him a deadline is a deadline—and he’s already six months past his. Remind him he signed a contract to write the book, and that we’ve already paid him a goodly amount of money for it—and as his agent, you know what that means. Listen, I’m going to have to talk to you about this tomorrow, after I have a chance to sit down with Jack and discuss options.” She flashed Zarah a smile. “You, too. ‘Bye.”

Zarah made a show of looking at her pendant watch again. “Quarter of nine at night and still working? My goodness, Flan, can’t you ever just leave your work at the office and not let it follow you everywhere you go?”

“Oh, whatever.” Flannery laughed. “I only rag you about it because we’re both the same way—we love what we do, and we do what we love. Eighteen or twenty hours a day, sometimes, but isn’t it worth it in the long run? Besides, that agent is out on the West Coast; it’s only a quarter of seven out there.”

They chitchatted until they got their food. No point in having that interrupt a more important conversation.

“Have you thought any more about it?” Flannery asked.

“About what?”

“The haircut—the makeover.”

Zarah rolled her eyes. “I’ve thought about it. But you know, no matter what you do to me on the outside, I’m still going to be the same person inside. I’ll just be even more self-conscious about the way I look if everyone’s making a fuss over me making changes to my appearance.”

Flannery looked like she wanted to protest, but a few seconds later, she shrugged.

“So what did you want to tell me?” Zarah touched the spoonful of soup to her lip, then lowered it back to the bowl to let it cool a few more minutes.

“I wanted to tell you…” Flannery squinted and screwed up her face. “Wait, it’ll come to me.” She poured both ramekins of dressing on her salad. “Oh, yeah! I’ve found a few candidates to set you up with.”

Anxiety did away with Zarah’s appetite. “Really?”