One Prayer Away (18 page)

“Lisa . . .”

“Your ex-wife, maybe?” she probed. “I heard that you'd been trying to contact her. I don't know why, though. Some things are better left alone. I know how hard it is to just forget the past. Especially when stones were left unturned and questions were left unanswered. I told you I've been there. But it's their loss. You and I are good catches, Mitchell. If Felander and Virtue were too blind to see that, then they never deserved us anyway.”

“Look,” Mitchell said. “I don't know what sent you
and your ex-husband to divorce court, but it wasn't like that with Virtue and me. We broke up because . . .”

Mitchell stopped himself. He couldn't believe he was getting into this with Lisa. What happened between Virtue and him was not her concern. Neither was it his business what caused her divorce from Felander. Chris told Lisa everything else. It was hard for Mitchell to accept the possibility that she really didn't know his story already.

“Go on,” she urged.

“I don't think so, Lisa. It's time to get out of here anyway.”

Mitchell grasped the handle of his briefcase and pulled it from his desk. As if she had finally conceded, Lisa wiggled her way off of his desk and stood. But when he turned to head for the door, her hand stopped him. It was one of those touches that only happened when Chris wasn't around.

“If you turn down my dinner offer, you'll leave me with no choice,” she said in a tone that was similar to that of the girls in the 1-900 commercials. “I'd have to go back to my initial question of why you feel uncomfortable when we're alone.”

“Lisa . . .”

“Are you uncomfortable now, Mitchell?”

He wasn't facing her, but she stood directly beside him, and Mitchell could feel her breath as she spoke. The atmosphere had gone far past uncomfortable. With her so close to him now that parts of her body touched his, there was little doubt left now about what Lisa was trying to accomplish. Mitchell was too stunned by her blatant actions to speak or immediately move.

“What about now?”

Her latest step forward had placed her mouth within a fraction of an inch from his face. She was so close, in fact, that her body pressed against his and her lips grazed his neck, sending a strange ripple of chills down his right arm.
A woman hadn't stood this close to Mitchell in quite some time, and certainly not one as beautiful as Lisa. Mitchell's mind was telling him to step away, but his body didn't readily agree. The brush of Lisa's lips turned into one kiss to his neck and then another. All Mitchell could do was stand there while his spirit fought against his flesh in an all-out war of good versus evil.

“Do you want me, Mitchell?”

Lisa's voice was a seductive whisper, but the sudden words that broke the silent, mounting tension were enough to snap Mitchell from the gaping abyss that had begun to swallow him whole. At first his defiance sounded more like an inaudible mumble, but with renewed strength Mitchell took the step backward that his mind had ordered him to take moments earlier.

“Get out.”

“What?” Lisa was visibly caught off guard by Mitchell's words.

“Get out,” he repeated, louder this time.

“Mitchell . . .” Lisa took a step in an attempt to close the gap that Mitchell's retreat had put between them. She reached forward to touch his face, but his hand was quicker than hers.

“Ouch!” she groaned as he grabbed her wrist and snatched her arm away.

Releasing her, Mitchell took brisk steps toward his office door and stood in the open doorway, pointing in the direction that would lead her down the hall and to the front door. “I need you to leave,” he said.

“Mitchell, why are you . . . ?”

“Go!” he yelled.

Lisa winced at the sudden change in his voice level and tone. She hesitated for a moment, but did as she was told. Mitchell stepped back as she reached his office door, taking special precautions so that she wouldn't have to touch him during her exit. He remained in his doorway and
watched her as she snatched her belongings from Barbara's desk and flung the door open on her way out. Mitchell waited until he heard the automatic locks on the front door engage themselves before he moved from his place.

With his footsteps heavy from the weight of the burden of guilt and shame had placed in each of his shoes, Mitchell dragged himself to his desk and pulled out his chair. He needed to sit and find a way to get himself together before attempting to drive home. A new battle had begun inside of him now. His best friend's fiancée had just made an attempt to seduce him. It was a failed attempt, but not by far. A part of him felt just as responsible as Lisa had been. If he had ended the conversation earlier, none of what had happened in the last two minutes would have.

How was he going to tell Chris about this? His friend would be crushed. And if Mitchell told him the whole story, of how refusing her advances hadn't been the easiest choice to make, he would probably be angry as well. But he had to tell him. Someway, somehow, he had to tell Chris what had happened. This was something that he couldn't keep from him. Even at the risk of hurting Chris's feelings and breaking his heart, Mitchell knew he had to tell him.

The sudden ring of his telephone interrupted his thought process. After a brief hesitation, pondering whether or not he should allow the after-hours call to go to voice mail, Mitchell made the decision to answer. A part of him hoped that it was Chris. Admittedly, it would be the choice of a coward, but telling Chris over the phone would probably be easier than doing it in person. Very few clients knew his direct number. Business calls most often came in through the general line at the receptionist's desk, and Barbara forwarded them accordingly. The odds stacked up against the call being from anyone other than his business partner. The fifth ring would send the call rolling over to voice mail. It was ringing for the fourth time before Mitchell picked up.

“Mitchell Andrews.”

“Hello, Mr. Andrews? I'm glad I caught you. You're just the man I need to speak to.”

It was a female's voice, but it rang with no familiarity. She sounded relieved, prompting Mitchell to assume it was a desperate client. The closer the year came to its end, the more he got calls like this from people who needed the prompt service of a capable accountant. It was the reason his briefcase was already stuffed with homework.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Sixteen

V
irtue sat in the corner booth nervously rubbing her hands together and wondering how she'd allowed herself to be suckered into such a thing. Even when she was a child, she had never succumbed to dares in order to prove herself. But someway, somehow, she had been scammed into doing it today.

“This is stupid,” she said, suddenly standing.

“
Sit
down, Virtue!” Beverly whispered harshly. It was the second time in less than half an hour that she had had to take on the tone of a chastising mother in order to prevent Virtue from abandoning her at Piatto Ristorante, one of Houston's contemporary Italian restaurants. “You have come this far, and I'm not going to let you throw your progress away. He'll be here anytime now, and you're not going to have him come all this way only to find that you've bailed out.”

“
I
didn't have him come anywhere, Beverly;
you
did. You never should have called him.”

“Don't you even try to pin this on me,” Beverly scolded. “It's not like I didn't clear it with you first.”

“I wasn't thinking straight, and you know it,” Virtue defended. “Now that I am, I've changed my mind.”

“Sit!”

This time the order came from between clenched teeth, and with reluctance, Virtue complied. Tears welled in the backs of her eyes, and she fought with everything inside of her not to let them overflow.

“I know this isn't easy for you, honey, but you're doing the right thing.” Beverly's tone had softened, and she reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Virtue's. “That's why we got here so early, so you could have the extra time to get yourself together. I told you I would help you through this, and I will. Okay?”

Virtue nodded, but she didn't feel the confidence that she needed. Two days ago she'd been sitting right beside Beverly when she made the call to Mitchell's office and set up the Saturday meeting. It was obvious that Mitchell had been surprised to get the call, but it was even more apparent that Beverly had been happy to make it. Virtue had sat quietly and listened while all the plans were made. Flights were more expensive during the Christmas season, but he'd said that he'd rather pay the elevated ticket price than make the long drive.

The meeting among the three of them had been set for eleven thirty. Virtue glanced at her watch and noted that there were at least ten minutes of agonizing waiting left. And if he was the same Mitchell she'd married, they could easily add fifteen more minutes to that. She remembered Mitchell as being a man who ran late for everything. The only time he'd been early for any important appointment was on the day of their wedding. Mitchell had gotten to the church an hour before the scheduled time. He'd told Virtue that the day was too important for him not to have been there. He said the knowledge that he'd be walking
away from the wedding with her on his arm was all the incentive he needed.

“Good morning.”

Both Virtue and Beverly flinched in their seats. Neither one of them had noticed Mitchell's approach, and both of them were unprepared for his early arrival. Virtue turned her head away and used her unrestricted hand to dab at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to erase the tears that had begun pooling. Beverly pulled her hand from on top of Virtue's and slowly stood. Virtue heard the exchange between the two as they made their initial introductions, but she couldn't get herself to look directly at them.

“Hi.” Mitchell's voice was softer than Virtue remembered. He almost sounded apprehensive as he spoke. “Mitchell Andrews.”

“Nice to meet you, Mitchell,” Beverly responded. “I'm Beverly Oliver.”

“The pleasure is mine. Thank you for calling and setting this up. I mean that.”

“I hope your plane ride was good.”

“It was uneventful,” Mitchell said. “That's always a good thing.”

“I agree.”

As the talking subsided, Virtue's insides quivered. It had been traumatic enough seeing Mitchell for that brief moment in Dallas. Now he stood within arm's reach of her, making small talk with her closest friend as if all were right with the world. The moisture inside Virtue's mouth evaporated, and her tongue adhered to the top of it. Her lips began to feel as though they were becoming parched and cracked. It was a feeling like none she'd ever experienced before.

“Excuse me,” Beverly said.

Mitchell took a step back and gave Beverly the additional space she needed to move from the side of the booth
where she'd been sitting and to relocate so that she would be sitting beside Virtue. She literally had to force Virtue over in the seat to make room for her wide hips.

“Please sit,” Beverly offered, pointing to the opposite side that she'd just vacated.

“Virtue . . . thank you for meeting me.” Mitchell said the words to her as soon as he sat, but Virtue had no words for him.

The first few moments were awkward, to say the least. Nobody spoke, and any noise that could be heard came from the tables nearest them. The thick layer of tension was only cracked when the waitress approached to take their orders. Beverly gave her order, but when it was Virtue's turn, she sat in the same position she'd been in since Mitchell's arrival—her eyes glued to the menu. She didn't even acknowledge the server's presence. Beverly nudged her, but Virtue's only response was the release of a soft gasp accompanied by a lone tear.

“Bring her the Piatto Chicken,” Mitchell said, drawing the waitress's baffled stare away from his ex-wife. “As a matter of fact, make that two orders of Piatto Chicken with the lemon butter sauce on the side, please. Also, bring the lady a cup of hot chocolate, with marshmallows if you have it. A cup of hot water will be fine for me. Thank you.”