Broken Things (Faded Photograph Series) (27 page)

“You seem a little tense.” Jack dropped her hand.

She realized what he said was true and tried to relax her limbs and shoulders, her neck. She’d been holding herself as stiff as a board.

“I think Royce’s comment hit a nerve.”

“You’re right,” she confessed. “It did.”

“It kind of did with me too.” He looked over her head and down the quiet, tree-lined avenue. “To be perfectly honest, I’d sort of like some romance in my autumn years.”

As she regarded him, standing there under the dim street lamp, Allie’s heart melted. Jack looked so tall and brave. He had once been her hero as well as her very best friend. She’d vowed to love him till the day she died―and she’d meant it.

“I’d like that too, Jack, but…”

“But what?” He returned his gaze to her and Allie didn’t miss the hint of a challenge in his tone.

“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll be perfectly honest. I don’t want either one of us to get hurt again.”

“I don’t want that either, but I suppose it’s a risk we’ll have to take. I’m game. Are you?

“I don’t know.” Inhaling, she chose to be just as direct. “Look, Jack, one of the things I’m uncomfortable with is the fact you’re a divorced man. That was one of the first ground rules I laid after my husband died―I’d never get involved with a divorced guy.”

“I can appreciate that,” he conceded. “But as far as I’m concerned, Roxi’s dead. I mean, she walked out on me and I haven’t seen or heard from her in twenty-five years.”

Allie understood and even conceded to his rationale. But her other concern was his spiritual condition. If he did, indeed, “get right the God,” as he’d announced at dinner tonight, it meant he needed to grow as a Christian by faithfully attending church and reading his Bible.

After Erich died, Allie promised herself that she’d never remarry unless her perspective mate’s walk with Christ matched or exceeded her own. It wasn’t as though she were being a snob. She’d just lived with an unbeliever for far too long to desire anything less than God’s best. Of course, she couldn’t tell this to Jack. He either might not understand or he might develop a faith just to please her, and that would be tragic.

On the other hand, Allie couldn’t deny her feelings for him. She didn’t have peace about walking out of his life either.

“You’re awfully quiet, Allie.

“I…I guess I’m at a loss for words at the moment,” she stammered.

“Well, I know there’s a chance you’re not interested in pursuing a serious relationship with me. I can respect that―and even accept it. But if that’s the truth, I wish you’d say so. We can put an end to things right now and walk away as friends. That’s what you wanted, right? You wanted to be friends. I’m offering you a choice.”

“Good grief, Jack! Don’t I get a chance to pray about it?”

“You should have been praying about it since Monday night.”

“Monday night?” With a huff of indignation, Allie folded her arms and leaned against her rented automobile. “I don’t appreciate rigid stipulations, especially when it comes to relationships.”

“And I don’t want to be a nice little distraction for you while you’re in town on business.”

Allie brought her hands up and covered her face with her palms. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t pray.

But then she suddenly remembered. Clearly.

“Jack,” she whispered, lowering her arms, “do you realize that this is exactly what drove us apart in the first place―your unyielding demands? I have no intention of using you as a…a
distraction
, but I need some space. I can’t think when I’m pressured. I feel trapped. Why can’t we just take things one step at a time, praying about our relationship as we go?

A moment of silence passed between them.

“Is that your answer?”

“Really? How can you press me like this?

“Yes or no?”

Tears threatened, but as the seconds ticked by Allie heard her Heavenly Father speaking right to her soul.
Let him go.

Heeding the warning, peace enveloped her.“I’ll take the friends option.”

“Okay, then…” Turning on his heel, Jack pulled out his keys and strode across the street to his SUV.

Chapter Twenty

Cynthia lay in her dark, silent room, trying to remember all the fun she’d had in her life. She wanted to die thinking about something good, something positive. Unfortunately the only memories that surfaced were those she had hoped to blot out of her mind forever.

Like remembrances of her first ex-husband…why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? That marriage had been doomed before it even began. But he’d been so insistent, and she’d been a sucker for a guy in uniform. Strange, but at her present stage in life―or stage in death―her first ex-husband seemed like a fine catch. Maybe she should have hung onto him. He had definitely been a far sight better than Bill, and he never cheated on her the way Ramon did, nor was he a cocaine addict like Luis.

Cynthia gave up on the fight and the memories assaulted her. Suddenly she was twenty-four again and married to a handsome police officer named Jack Callahan.

“You’re going to have to put something more modest on,” he said.

She’d just walked downstairs, wearing a pair of thigh-high shorts, which accentuated her long legs, and a skimpy top that laced up in the front. With platform sandals on her feet, she’d thought she looked good…sexy.

“Hey, I just had a kid six months ago, and I got my shape back. I think I deserve to show it off.”

“Yeah, but show it off to only me!” Holding their infant son, Jack traded arms. “We’re going to a picnic with a bunch of guys I work with. I don’t them gawking at my wife.”

“It’s my business if I want to get gawked at,” she argued. “You should feel proud to be seen with a woman like me.”

“You look cheap. Go change.”

The remark stung. But by that time she was growing used to his criticism. She had overheard talk about the girl that Jack once loved and it was obvious to Cynthia, as early as on her wedding day, that she wouldn’t ever measure up. But she convinced herself that she could make Jack love her. How wrong she was! Nevertheless, on this particular afternoon, she did as he told her. She changed her clothes. She selected what she thought was the ugliest outfit she owned, a plain red skirt and baggy red and white striped T-shirt. When she presented herself a second time, Jack didn’t say another word. He let her go off to the picnic looking like some frumpy old maid.

And that, she presumed, was what he wanted in a wife.

But that’s not what Cynthia wanted to be.

Months went by and things between her and Jack didn’t improve. By spring the following year they barely spoke to each other. He expected certain things from her liked cooked meals and clean laundry, and to spite him, she refused. He got angry and she, more rebellious. But what she really wanted was his love and attention. She wished Jack would tell her the same words he often told their son. “I love you.” Each afternoon when he left for his shift, he’d kiss Logan goodbye, but tossed her contemptuous glare.

Cooped up all day with only a baby to care for and afternoon soap operas for company, Cynthia grew restless and depressed. She felt as though she were wasting the best years of her life on a man who didn’t love or appreciate her. What’s more her meddling mother-in-law frequently stopped over to straighten up the house, cook, and wash clothes. Mother Callahan liked to open her Bible and preach, which only aggravated Cynthia all the more.

So she began doing errands―anything, just to get out of the house. Known as “Roxi” back then, a shorter version of her middle name, Roxanne―and the stage name she had selected upon leaving home―Cynthia dreamed up a list of tasks that took hours to accomplish. One of those tasks took her into downtown Chicago where she ran into her former boss. He was looking for dancers to perform at his nightclub. She jumped at the chance, although she knew Jack, with his old fashioned, overbearing ideas, wouldn’t allow it. For that reason, she lied to his mother, saying she’d joined a ladies’ club that participated in all kinds of charitable deeds and would she babysit three nights a week while Jack worked?

Mother Callahan agreed, and Jack didn’t seem to care if she belonged to a ladies club. He said it might even be good for her to do something nice for other people for a change. Cynthia had chafed beneath his snide remark, and it only fueled her desire to get back into dancing.

For the next few months, life was fun and exciting. Performing in front of men who enjoyed her curvy figure was a sure-cure for her depression. It increased her self-confidence, her self-worth. She made good money and began to fantasize about packing up her baby and escaping from her domineering husband.

Then one night a ritzy-looking gentleman told her he was visiting Chicago and that he was lonely. He offered to pay her for a private dance performance and when he waved five hundred dollars under her nose, Cynthia accepted. Little did she know the gent was an undercover cop. Shortly thereafter, she was arrested for prostitution.

Her boss posted bail, and Cynthia went home. The very next day she worked on renting an apartment in Chicago. Her plan was to leave Jack and file for divorce before he discovered her secret occupation and the trouble she’d gotten into. She wouldn’t risk facing his wrath. However, he was quicker to find out than she was to move out. The best she could figure was that someone in the Chicago precinct recognized her last name or her address and informed Jack. Oddly enough, he didn’t scream and yell. He didn’t curse her out. He didn’t harm her physically. Instead, he listened to her confession with a surprisingly tolerant ear.

At long last, he said, “You want a divorce? Go for it. But you can’t have Logan. And if you try to take him, I’ll have every cop in this state hunting you down and you’ll spend the ‘best part of your life,’ as you described it, in jail. I will personally make sure of it. Understand?”

She did. She also knew it wasn’t an idle threat. Jack had enough connections with lawyers, district attorneys and judges to destroy her life if she defied him. But how could she leave her baby boy?

Cynthia tried to stay for Logan’s sake, but Jack was a silent ogre who threw menacing glances at her whenever their paths crossed. And each time she left the house, even to take her baby for a stroll, she felt as though she were being watched. After hearing a
click-click
when she’d placed a call to her boss, she decided the phone line was being tapped. Her paranoia increased, and soon she imagined that Jack wanted to kill her. He was just biding his time. Waiting to make his move―just like the dude on the afternoon daytime drama she watched. Every thump and creak in the house became terrifying and Cynthia never felt so helpless and alone in all her life.

Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and one hot summer afternoon she put Logan down for his nap and packed her belongings, including the money she had earned from her dancing. She hated the thought of leaving her son, but knew if she didn’t she would lose her very mind. Before she made her escape, however, she had crept into Logan’s bedroom. She ran her fingers down the back of his head, enjoying the feel of his silky dark brown hair for what would be the last time.

“I’ll come back for you,” she’d whispered to baby’s sleeping form. “I’ll only be gone a little while.”

Tearing herself away from the crib, she fled the house that hadn’t ever felt like a home. She figured Logan wouldn’t be alone for more than a few minutes, not with Jack’s watchdogs lurking about. She took the car and stopped at the bank, withdrawing every nickel from their joint savings and checking accounts.

Weird, she thought now as she shifted on her bed’s hard, uncomfortable mattress, but Jack never squabbled in court about the funds she’d taken. All he’d fought for was their son.

And he’d won.

The judge awarded Jack sole custody and pronounced Cynthia an unfit mother because of her prostitution conviction and for what he termed was “child abandonment.” When the gavel came down it splintered her heart. She hadn’t even been given a chance to explain.

And she never got a chance to tell her baby goodbye.

“Nurse!” she screamed. “Nurse! Nurse!”

The silence was deafening as she waited. Finally the door opened, revealing one of the snippy female CNAs that worked the night shift. “What do you need, Mrs. Matlock?”

“Pain medication,” she panted. “I…I need something to…to stop the pain!”

* * *

“Logan, I’m so happy I could burst!” Marliee’s exclamation was rewarded with his pleased smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to wait a few extra months so I can have the wedding I really want.”

“Well, you know if I had my way―”

“Yes, I know.” Marilee smiled. “But you gave me my way and I love you all the more for it.”

“I could tell it meant a lot to you.”

She smiled, sinking deeper into the car seat. “So what did you think of the restaurant? Won’t our reception be awesome in that banquet hall?”

“Sure will. I can’t believe your father actually put down twenty-five hundred bucks to rent the place. That’s an awful lot of money.”

“Not really. Not if you consider what’s included.”

“I guess you’d know.” Logan rounded a curve on the interstate. “I’ll leave the details to you. Just tell me when and where I have to show up.”

“Oh, Logan!”

“I think I’m going to start calling you Princess. But the bad news is you’re about to marry a pauper.”

“Money isn’t an issue.”

“It might be down the road.” A note of seriousness entered his voice. “I’m not going to be able to afford the lifestyle you’re used to.”

“God will provide.” Nothing could rob Marilee of her happiness at this point. “Besides, all I need and want is to be your wife.”

“Honey, that’s great for now, but what happens when the scales fall from your eyes and all you see is my dirty laundry?”

“I’ll love your dirty laundry too.” Marilee didn’t miss the endearment.

“I wish I had a tape recording of this. I’d play it back to you in the years to come.”

Marilee shook her head, feeling sure that her love for Logan will only be deeper by then.