Secret Agent Minister (18 page)

Dev stood at the door, his mind reeling with hope and need. He’d tried to stay away, tried to distance himself from Lydia’s purity and goodness. He didn’t want to taint her anymore. And he couldn’t promise her anything else.

He’d been debriefed, analyzed, scrutinized, questioned and reprimanded. He was so tired, so very tired, that he only wanted to curl up on the couch back at his house by the church and sleep for a month. But now that he was standing here, knowing that Lydia was right behind that door, a new energy coursed through him. He had to see her. He had to tell her he loved her.

When she opened the door, her expression full of hope and regret, he took her in like a long drink of pure water. She was wearing a pretty blue floral sleeveless sundress that flared out from her waist in soft, gentle pleats. She was barefoot, her hair caught back in a ponytail, her face devoid of makeup.

She was beautiful.

“Hello,” he managed, shifting as he put his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Hello,” she whispered, her voice sounding raw and husky.

Her cat made a dangerous meowing sound, the animal’s rich green eyes issuing a challenge that clearly spoke of terrible things happening to anyone who dared hurt his owner.

“Hi there, Rhett. Protective as ever, I see.” He looked back up at Lydia. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she said, but her eyes held so much doubt.

Dev wanted to erase that doubt. Once and for all.

“Have a seat,” she said, whirling like a ballerina. “I was about to make some hot tea. Want some?”

“No, but I’d take a soda.”

She put the teakettle on, then brought him a soft drink. And she sat down in a chair across from him, her body language showing him she wasn’t comfortable with him being here.

Hating that, he put the unopened drink down on a rose-patterned coaster and said, “Lydia—”

“How’s your wound?”

He wondered to which wound she was referring, his leg or his heart. “Just a little sore and I walk with a limp, but the doctor said I’ll be fine in a few weeks.” He tried again. “Lydia—”

“Eli has a son,” she interrupted, her hands folded in her lap. “I’d really like to hear all about that.”

“That’s what I came to tell you,” he said, dreading this final admission. “It’s a long story—”

“But one I need to know,” she retorted, her eyes as steely and glistening as copper that had aged to a brilliant green. “It’s a blessing for him, at least.”

He nodded, opened his drink. Took a long swallow. “First, Eli is doing great. He’s going back to Louisiana in a few days. Kissie is going to watch over him. You know, she teamed up with Sally Mae and made the CHAIM team at Eagle Rock track us down.”

She nodded. “That’s good to hear.” Then she held up a hand. “Before you tell me this story, I need to tell you something.”

Surprised, Dev said, “Okay.”

“Back in Colorado, Eli…he called The Peacemaker grandfather. Do you know anything about that?”

Dev blinked, willed himself to talk. “Eli told me everything. The Peacemaker—his real name was Pierre Savoy—came from a wealthy New Orleans family. His only son, Edward, met and fell in love with Polly Trudeau. Polly got pregnant. Eli.” He looked down at his hands. “They never married. Polly was poor and not suitable for Edward in Pierre’s eyes, so Pierre enlisted Edward in CHAIM. She never heard from Edward after the baby was born, and Pierre never acknowledged the baby. Then Polly heard that Edward was killed, so she raised her son Eli the best she could and never married again.”

He took a long breath, raised his head.

Lydia had tears in her eyes. “That’s so sad.”

“Yes, it is sad. Eli’s mother wanted him to have a better life so she sent him to a community college to get a decent education. That’s where Pierre found him and told him about his father and CHAIM. But he sure didn’t do it out of love for Eli. More as revenge against his mother and him.”

Lydia got up to pace around the room, wiping at her eyes. “So that old man bullied Eli into joining up.”

“Yes, and because Eli was starving for any connection to the father he’d never known, he jumped at the chance. And it seems The Peacemaker has had him in his grip off and on through the years since.”

“Until South America.”

Dev had always admired Lydia’s sharp mind. “Yes, until then, when Eli discovered to his dismay that his very own grandfather was behind a huge drug cartel down there. He stumbled right into it—”

“And because The Peacemaker both loved and resented him, the old man decided he had to make Eli suffer.”

“Yes, by trying to kill his wife.”

Lydia stopped pacing, then looked down at him. “But she didn’t die right away. You did tell me that.”

“No, she didn’t. Eli was AWOL and we had to make a quick decision. She had no other family, because she was an orphan. Eli met her when he was doing some community work at a local children’s home. They got married as soon as she turned eighteen. Eli loved her so much, but he thought she was dead and we couldn’t find him. So we hid her—without even CHAIM’s knowledge—”

“Who is we?”

“Me,” he said. “Just me and Kissie and a few other people who were concerned about Eli and about…the baby.”

She nodded, held up a hand. “Let me finish this for you. While she lay in a coma, the baby was delivered?”

“Yes. It was the only way. She died shortly after the baby was taken by C-section. It was as if she were waiting for that baby to be born. I wanted to tell Eli, but we couldn’t find him. So we decided to hide the baby—to save the child. Eli was so unstable once we did locate him, everyone involved decided the best thing for the child was to keep him hidden. After that, time just passed so quickly, and Scotty was so happy and safe—”

Lydia sank down on her chair, but the teakettle started whistling, causing her to jump up again. Dev got up to follow her across the open room to the kitchen. “Lydia, you have to understand—”

“I do,” she said, her attention on making her tea. But Dev could see her hands shaking.

He grabbed her, stopped her with his hands on hers. “I wanted to tell you. Right from the start. But I had to protect Scotty.”

She gasped, pulled away, her hands going to her mouth. “Oh, oh, now it all makes perfect sense. Your nephew? Eli’s son is your nephew, Scotty?”

“Yes,” he said, relief washing over him. “That’s it. That’s the final truth. My sister has been raising him up North. That’s my big secret, the main reason I had to take you on the run with me. I was so afraid someone was trying to get to Scotty—that Eli had found out the truth and was coming after me.”

He moved toward her, forcing her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him. “I was afraid they’d kill you to make me suffer and…that’s exactly what Pierre Savoy was trying to do. That’s what he did to Eli. I couldn’t let that happen to Scotty. That little boy means the world to me. And he’s innocent. He’s innocent, Lydia.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until she reached up to touch her fingers to his tears. Dev grabbed her hand, kissing her fingers, hoping against hope that she would forgive him. “I’m so sorry. For everything. Please, Lydia, I need you to understand and to forgive me. Please?”

Lydia felt the warmth of his hands on hers, felt the love shining in his eyes. “This is…incredible,” she said, her heart hurting for Eli and for his child.

And for this man who’d taken on the burden of protecting both of them, and her, too. “Does Eli know now?”

Dev looked down at their joined hands. “Yes, he does. He knows everything. He’s bitter and hurting, but he did thank me for saving his child.” He shook his head. “He kept quoting one of the Beatitudes—‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’ He said to tell you thanks for that one.”

Lydia’s heart opened wide in a prayer for Eli Trudeau. He had been listening to her prayers that night up on the ridge after all. “What’s he going to do now?”

Dev backed away, then rolled a hand down his face. “First, he has to get better. He’s still recuperating, and it’ll be a while before he can travel again.”

“And when he’s well?”

He turned to face her, his expression full of hope. “He’ll go and find his son, I’m sure.”

“Then it will truly be over?”

“I hope so. I’m done for now. I’m out of CHAIM for good.”

She moved toward him, wanting to make sure he was real, needing to see his honesty. “And…no one else will come to kill us?”

“No. That’s all been taken care of. The authorities in both the United States and Rio Branco are on the case now. It’s truly over.” He gave her a wry smile. “Things might actually get back to normal.”

“Normal?” She shook her head. “Not really. I have to find another job.”

“Why?”

She couldn’t help but savor the solid fear in his eyes while she asked God to put forgiveness in her heart. And because she was a different person now, she decided to be a bit more assertive and bold in telling him the truth.

“Because it’s not proper—what with me being in love with my boss. Rumors are already flying left and right around here.”

He lowered his head as he came toward her. Then he tugged her into his arms. “I can fix the rumors, I promise.”

“I’ve heard your promises before, remember?”

She saw the hurt passing through his eyes, but she had to know she could count on him.

He leaned his forehead against hers, then backed up to stare at her. “I know you have, and after that night in New Orleans, I decided I wouldn’t make any more promises to you unless I knew I could deliver on those promises.”

Lydia gazed up at him, her breath in her throat. “And can you? Deliver now, I mean?”

“I plan on it,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her. “You know, I always have a plan.”

Breathless and suddenly giddy with hope, she smiled. “What is your plan?”

“I plan to marry the woman I love,” he said, fresh tears forming in his blue eyes. “I plan to make you my wife, and I plan to preach the word of God right here in our church, and I plan to have children with you, and grow old with you and—”

He let out a yelp of pain. “Your cat just bit my leg.”

She slapped at his shirt, grinning through her own tears. “Rhett, oh, he’s just making sure you can live up to all those promises and plans.”

“I can,” he said. “I will.” Then he gave her a serious look. “Lydia, will you forgive me for all that I’ve done to you? For all the things I’ve withheld from you, including my heart?”

“I will.”

“And, will you marry me?”

“I will.”

His expression changed from fatigued and unsure to content and relaxed. “Thank you, God,” he said, lifting his words to the heavens in a prayer. “Thank you, Father.”

Then he looked back down at her. “You are so amazing, and I love you so much.”

Lydia silently thanked God, too, for the words she’d always longed to hear. Then she fell into his arms, all of her doubts melting in a pool of sweet warmth. “I love you, too, Pastor Dev.”

“You can call me Dev now for sure,” he said into her ear.

“You’ll always be Pastor Dev to me,” she replied. “Always. Even when I’m Mrs. Devon Malone and life is perfectly normal again.” Then she touched a hand to his face. “Even if life is never normal again.”

“I can live with that,” he said. “I’m so glad God put you in my life. And…I like normal. A lot.”

Then he whirled her around in his arms, and they both laughed and cried together.

While Rhett the cat watched, purring away in delight.