The Perfect Life (4 page)
It was a miracle, really, the caring man Brad had become. His home life hadn't been the best when he was growing up. His father, Roger Clarkson, was successful in business but emotionally distant from his wife and three sons. His mother, Teresa, put up with Roger's philandering ways in exchange for the comfort his money provided.
Once, about a year before we married, I had reason to wonder if Brad was as caring and thoughtful as I'd made him out to be. We'd had a fight. A bad one. I no longer remembered what it was about. Something silly, no doubt. But for two weeks afterward he didn't call me. Then I learned from a friend that he'd been seen at the movies with another girl. Oh, how my heart twisted at the news. I thought I'd lost him. When he came to see me a few days later and asked my forgiveness, I was quick to give it; I couldn't imagine my life without him.
And in the end,my fears were put to rest. I hadn't been mistaken about Brad's character. Even before he came to Christ, he had a generous, giving spirit. He'd been a faithful husband, a loving father, and a good provider for his family.
The worship team took their places on the stage, and Brad headed for our row. He sat beside me and reached for my hand. As he squeezed it, he gave me a smile. My heart fluttered in response. I had much to be thankful for.
ON MONDAY MORNING I MET EMMA AND
HAYLEY
AT THE
mall when the shops opened at ten. Our first stop was the maternity store.
“Isn't this cute?” Emma asked as she held a pair of bibbed shorts against her belly.“Perfect for when it gets hot this summer.”
Hayley rolled her eyes. “You'll not only look like you
belong
in a barn, you'll look as
big
as one.” She poked through a rack of separates.“You're lucky. Since you don't work, you can wear whatever you want. I need clothes that are suitable for the office. After this week, I won't have anymore time off until I go on maternity leave, and I don't want to wear the same three outfits for the next four or five months.” She glanced at the shorts again. “And I wouldn't be caught dead in those.”
Emma gave her sister one of
those
looks, as we liked to call themânarrowed eyes, wrinkled nose, and a slight shake of the head. “Say what you want. I'm going to try them on.” She disappeared into a dressing room with the bibbed shorts, a pair of slacks, and three summer tops.
Hayley couldn't find anything she liked. “What will I do when I get much bigger than I am now? I hate this part of being pregnant. I can't find any clothes that I like.”
“You'll find something,” I said. “This is only one store.”
“Yeah, but I can't spend all day looking. The carpenters are due to arrive around two o'clock this afternoon.” She drew in a breath. “I don't know why
I
had to be the one to use my week's vacation to oversee this remodeling. I tried to make Steven understand that he would be better at it than me, but he wouldn't budge.”
“Would you like your dad to come over and check on things? I'm sure he would if you asked him to.”
“No. That's okay. I'm just stressing. You know how I get.”
Yes, I knew.
She pointed to a bench at the back of the store. “Let's wait for Emma over there.” As soon as we sat, she said, “Have you heard anything more from that reporter?”
“No. Your dad thinks if she had anything substantial, something more than just a rumor, the station would have aired that piece from Saturday night by now. But he's going to check with Stan Ludwig today, to see if there's anything he should be doing.”
Just in case
.
“Anything like what?”
I shrugged.“I really don't know. Looking into salaries. Making sure all travel has been well-documented. That sort of thing.”
Over the past decade, In Step had grown beyond anything I'd imagined it would. The office had expanded until it took over one full floor. Every year more employees had been hired, and the volunteer base had grown as well. Computer systems and programs had been upgraded, and giving could be done by phone, mail, or Internet. Everything was much more sophisticated than it had been when I helped Brad with the office work.
The one thing I did know for certain was that Brad's salary wasn't out of line for the president of a charitable foundation. When compared with people in similar positions, his earnings were on the low side. So whatever Ms. St. James meant to imply wasn't true.
“Well, if it were up to me, I'd see if I couldn't get that woman fired.”
I patted Hayley's knee. “Thanks, honey. But I'm sure that won't be necessary. Your father says In Step needs positive media attention in order to help the recipient families. We don't want to make enemies.”
“It looked to me as if Ms. St. James is already an enemy.”
Emma stepped out of the dressing room, clad in the bibbed shorts over a sleeveless top. I was thankful for the interruption. I was sick of thinking about Greta St. James. I would just as soon never think about her or see her again.
ON OCTOBER 28, 1983, AT 8:06 A.
M.â
FIVE MONTHS AFTER
Brad and I were marriedâa 7.3 earthquake rocked central and southern Idaho. Twenty-five years later, I still remembered every detail.
On that morning, I'd stood at the sink, washing the breakfast dishes, the faint scent of bacon and fried eggs lingering in the room. Sunlight filtered through the yellow cotton curtains that covered the kitchen window. On the stereo in the living room, David Meece, one of my favorite recording artists, sang “Rattle Me, Shake Me.”
How appropriate.
Although the epicenter of the quake was about a hundred and twenty miles away as the crow flies, it felt as if it were right next door. Everything in the house jerked to the leftâme includedâand water splashed onto my blouse as I grabbed the edge of the counter. I was swaying back to the right before I realized it was an earthquake, too stunned to run for cover or move into a doorway. The rolling of the earth beneath my feet seemed to last an eternity. It left me feeling scared and helpless for days afterward.
What happened on that Wednesday following the banquet was like that earthquake.
I'd been to the gym, the bank, and the grocery store, and had just brought the last of the canvas shopping bags into the house when the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Mom,” Hayley said. “Turn on Channel 5. Quick.”
I grabbed the remote for the small television set that sat on the kitchen counter. A punch of the button, and the television screen came to life. I caught a glimpse of myself, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
“Get that mic away from her!” Emma's hand flew up to obstruct the view of the camera.“My mother has nothing to say.” Her hand came down seconds before she turned around, her body shielding me from the reporter and her cameraman.
Greta St. James appeared on-screen, but she was no longer at the convention center, no longer dressed in that red blazer. Instead she wore a lime green cardigan over a white blouse and stood outside the glass-walled entrance of the In Step offices.
“Last week, Channel 5 News learned of a rumor regarding mismanagement of charitable assets at the In Step Foundation. As you saw in the clip,we approached Brad Clarkson and his wife on the night he received his award. Mr. Clarkson stated he hadn't heard the allegation himself. We chose not to air the footage you just saw since it was uncorroborated. However, we've now learned that a complaint has been made to the attorney general's office, and they are reviewing it to determine whether there is cause for a formal investigation.” She glanced toward the lettering on the door to the office, then back at the camera. “This morning, I again attempted to talk to Mr. Clarkson. He refused my request. But I was able to speak with a former In Step employee.”
The image on the television screen changed to a second film clip, Ms. St. James seated in what looked to be someone's living room. I frowned. The room seemed familiar.
“Tell us why you decided to come forward,Miss Schubert.”
My breath caught in my throat as the camera turned to the woman seated on a sofa.
Nicole?
The remote fell from my right hand, clattering as it hit the floor.
Nicole Schubert. Pretty. Slender as a reed. Blonde. She'd served as the Chief Financial Officer at In Step for two years, and for a short while she'd attended the women's Bible study in our home. What on earthâ
“Because I didn't want the public to be deluded. All is not well at In Step. Brad Clarkson may call himself a Christian and look like a great humanitarian, but he isn't who others think he is.” She looked straight at the camera. “Brad and I became lovers while I was the CFO at In Step. He led me to believe he planned to end his marriage. But he lied to me just as he's lied to his wife and his supporters.”
I sank to the floor, my back sliding down the cupboard door.
The image shifted back to Ms. St. James standing outside the In Step offices. “Channel 5 will air the entirety of my interview with Miss Schubert this evening on
Our View
at seven o'clock. Be sure to join us then.”Her smile pierced my chest. “Reporting from the Henderson Building in downtown Boise, I'm Greta St. James, Channel 5 News.”
The weatherman appeared on the screen.
“Mom, are you there?”
I'd forgotten the phone was in my left hand.
“Mom?”
“I'm here, Hayley.” I picked up the remote and pressed the Mute button.
“Why would she say those things about Dad?”
“I don't know.”My skin tingled. My hands shook.
“But the attorney general is investigating. If there wasn't some evidenceâ”
Call Waiting beeped in my ear. “I've got to go, honey. I . . . I'll talk to you later.”
I hung up the phone. After a moment's silence, it began to ring. Caller ID told me it was Emma. I closed my eyes and waited for the ringing to stop. Finally it did.
I set the portable handset on the floor beside the remote, then covered my face with my hands.
“Why would she say those things about Dad?”
Brad would never have an affair. He loved me too much. He would never steal from his company. He loved In Step too much. He wasn't devious or dishonest. He loved the Lord too much. I would know if what Nicole said was true.
I jumped when the phone rang again. When I checked the caller ID, it showed Brad's cell phone number. I didn't answer. I couldn't. Not yet. I was still in shock about what I'd seen. I couldn't think straight.
I rose from the floor and focused my attention on the groceries, emptying the canvas bags, setting food to be refrigerated on the counter to my left and food for the pantry on the counter to my right.
Should I freeze the pork chops or prepare them for tonight's supper? I couldn't decide. The thought of food turned my stomach.
“Brad and I became lovers while I was the CFO at In Step. He
led me to believe he planned to end his marriage . . .”
Knees weak, I returned to the chair and sat on it.
“Brad and I became lovers . . .”
No. I wouldn't believe it. I
couldn't
believe it. Not about Brad. About anyone else, but never about Brad.
