Final Deposit (9 page)

“I always regretted losing track of you. You were a good friend, Kyle.”

Friendship didn't sound as good as it used to. “You hungry?”

“For the first time today, yes.”

“Kerrie makes a mean enchilada.” He glanced at his watch. “Simon should be home in a few minutes.”

“Then I suppose we should head back.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. Then Kyle's stomach growled and Lindsey couldn't help but laugh.

Still, something told him things would never quite be the same between them.

 

Lindsey fell back onto the couch beneath two squealing girls, her lungs burning for air from laughing so hard. She tickled Carly while Caileigh wiggled to pull off her shoe. There was a bonus to staying here—between playing with the twins and hearing a few amusing anecdotes about Kyle, she'd been able to forget what was happening. Kyle's family was the perfect distraction.

Her purse fell off the edge of the couch onto the carpet, spilling lip gloss, her father's mail and pens across the floor.

“Girls. I think it's time to settle down.” Kerrie stooped to help.

“Don't worry about it,” Lindsey assured her. “I've had such a great time tonight.”

“Will you read us a story?” Carly asked.

Kerrie looked at the wall clock and then shook her head. “Not only is it way past your bedtime, little ladies, but I'm sure Miss Lindsey needs a breather.”

“Tomorrow, girls. Okay?”

While the girls kissed their uncle good-night, she picked up her father's mail. She'd avoided looking at it all day, not wanting to face another letter from a collection agency. She was as bad as her father. She flipped over the top envelope. It was from the insurance company. Her father had taken out a policy years ago, though she had no idea what it was worth.

“How easy is it to cash in a life-insurance policy?”

Kyle looked up from the magazine he was reading. “It depends on what kind.”

She tapped the letter against the palm of her hand. For a moment, she felt she shouldn't open it.

But then reality kicked in. If they were looking for large amounts of money, this letter could contain important information. She slid her finger across the flap then pulled out the letter. It was a personal note from her father's insurance agent. She scanned it quickly and dropped it into her lap.

“He canceled his policy last week, Kyle.”

“How much was it worth?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. The letter just says thank you for your business, we're sorry to see you go.”

He stacked the magazine back on the pile beside him. “Is there a number you could call to find out?”

She looked at the letter again. “Here. Max Banks. He's an old friend of Dad's—he included his cell number. Maybe he'll tell me something.”

She flipped open her cell phone and punched in the numbers. He answered on the third ring.

“Mr. Banks, this is Lindsey Taylor, George Taylor's daughter.”

“Lindsey. How are you?”

“I'm fine, thanks, though my father's in the hospital.”

“I'm sorry. Is he going to be all right?”

“I think he'll be home in a few days.” She rushed on with the reason for her call. “As you know, I have power of attorney for my father, and I need to ask you about something, if you have a moment. I just received the letter regarding his canceling his insurance policy.”

“Oh, yes. I was sorry to lose your father's business. He's been a great customer all these years, but even I couldn't blame him for the deal he got on that boat. I say if you're going to retire, you might as well enjoy it.”

“A boat?” Surely her father hadn't sold his life-insurance policy to buy some seaworthy vessel.

“Mahogany hull, twin diesel engines…” He let out a low whistle. “Your father had me wishing I could retire.”

“A boat?” she repeated.

“You sound surprised.” His voice cracked. “Don't tell me this was a surprise?”

“Honestly, I…” Lindsey didn't know how to respond.

“He got the check, didn't he? We mailed it to him early last week.”

“I don't know, to be honest.” Her chest began to constrict. “Could you tell me exactly how much money the policy was worth?”

There was a short pause on the line. “Just over sixty-five thousand dollars.”

S
ixty-five thousand dollars.

Lindsey tried to focus on the lively discussion about II Corinthians 4 currently under way in the singles' Sunday-school class at her church, but she couldn't shake that dollar amount. Or the dozens of questions flying around in her mind. She scribbled down the questions in the notebook she kept in her Bible for taking sermon notes. Why had her father canceled the policy? Had he cashed the check? If so, what had he done with the money? And why didn't he trust her enough to talk to her about it?

Her temples pounded. She pressed her fingertips against her forehead and massaged, trying to alleviate the pain. Sixty-five thousand dollars couldn't vanish into thin air. And there were only four options she could think of. She made another column on the page and started a bulleted list. One: Her father still had the check. Two: He'd cashed the check and stashed the money somewhere. Three: He'd wired the money to Abraham Omah, though so far they hadn't found a corresponding Western Union receipt. Or four: He'd paid the money to someone he'd borrowed from.

But if the last option were true, who had he borrowed from?

She tapped the pen against the paper, wishing that the answers would come as easily as the questions. Sixty-five thousand dollars was a lot of money. That much money could have supplied plenty of motivation to whoever broke in to her father's house. She shook her head. It seemed that the more she tried to understand what her father was up against, the more daunting the reality became.

She stole a peek at Kyle, sitting beside her with his Bible open, obviously interested in the topic. She suddenly felt very unspiritual. Coming to church today had been a concession. She'd rather have been at the hospital interrogating her father—the only thing that stopped her was the doctor's strict orders that he rest. So she'd accepted Kyle's offer to bring her to church. But listening to a lesson, no matter how good it might be, was the last thing she felt like doing. Not that she blamed God for this situation—at least not completely. She mainly blamed herself for not seeing what was going on before her father had dived headfirst into this bottomless pit.

Kyle nudged her with his elbow. She flipped her notebook shut, shooting him a guilty look. She hadn't heard a single word for at least thirty minutes.

“This is good stuff,” he whispered.

“I know.” She leaned back against the folding chair. “I can't concentrate.”

She forced her mind back to the Apostle Paul's encouragement in II Corinthians, currently being read out loud by Bryan, their teacher. “‘We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed, perplexed, but not in despair—'”

Crushed and perplexed. Throw in the despair and that was exactly what she was feeling at the moment. She opened her Bible to the passage. Verse sixteen caught her eye.
Therefore we do not lose heart.

Right. Don't lose heart. How in the world was she supposed to do that? She flipped her notebook open and stared at her scrawled observations. Despite Abraham Omah, a ransacked house and the missing sixty-five thousand dollars, the Bible was telling her not to lose heart. And that wasn't all. Paul clearly said that in spite of being hard-pressed and perplexed we were
not
crushed.

Or in despair.

She blinked back tears.
Then why do I feel so desperate, God?

She glanced around the class. Two-dozen familiar faces filled the room. Some were friends she often had dinner with after the Sunday-night service. She'd joined the softball team, participated in local outreaches and even enjoyed singing with several of them on the chorus. Yet there were few—if any—she'd ever bared her soul to.

Taking in a deep breath through her nose, she tried to relax. Somehow she had to get through today without falling apart. The last thing she wanted to do was make a scene. And bursting into tears in the middle of church would definitely qualify as a scene. It might be biblical to share a burden with others, but it was much easier to keep the family soap opera to herself.

She focused on Bryan's words, determined to get something out of today's lesson.

“Verse eighteen,” he was saying, “reminds us to fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen.”

Ouch. She was definitely looking at the temporary. Lost money, lawsuits, Internet scammers…As difficult as the situation might be, if her eyes were fixed on heaven, she'd also be thinking of the steady rock she had in her Heavenly Father. Yes, there was temporary pain and consequences of her father's actions, but whether he had a million dollars in the bank or a debt of a million, did it really matter? In the end, all that mattered was that their relationship with God was right, that she forgave her father—and herself—and that she didn't allow hatred toward one man to plant bitterness in her heart. The end of verse eighteen said it all. What is seen is temporary. What is unseen is eternal.

I know you're speaking to me, Lord. I'm just finding it so hard to deal with the mess my father's made.

A heartfelt prayer by one of the members brought the lesson to a close, but did little to rein in Lindsey's battered emotions.

“I really liked the class,” Kyle told her as she gathered her things.

Before she could respond, several friends approached them, wanting to meet Kyle. She breathed a sigh of relief when they made it through the conversation without anyone teasing her about bringing a date to church.

The foyer was packed with people filing into the sanctuary for the morning service. Lindsey felt a lump in her throat and she pulled Kyle aside. “I don't think I can go in there.”

He touched her arm. “Don't you think this is what you need most right now, Lindsey? Time with God, worshiping with your spiritual family?”

“Yes, but—”

She felt a light tap on her shoulder. Mrs. James, one of the leaders' wives, stood beside her wearing one of her signature hats—a red number with three plump roses on one side.

“I just heard your father was in the hospital, sweetie.” Concern registered in the older woman's gaze. “How is he?”

Lindsey adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “The doctor believes he suffered a ministroke yesterday, but thankfully the symptoms are temporary. They think he'll make a full recovery.”

“That's good to hear. I have to say, I've been worried about him for quite some time.” Mrs. James leaned in closer. “He used to be so involved in church activities, but lately he's dropped out of sight. My Henry's been by to check on him several times, but he never wants to talk.”

Kyle shot Lindsey a pointed glance.

“You know, Mrs. James, my father is going through a really difficult time. I don't feel that I can divulge any details right now, but the situation is very serious. I'm doing everything I can to help him, but honestly, he really needs the church's prayers.”

“God knows the details, sweetie.” The older woman's reassuring pat brought with it a reminder that God was in control—Lindsey didn't have to do this on her own. “Promise you'll let us know if there's anything specific we can do. That's what we're here for.”

She hesitated briefly, wondering how her father would feel about visitors. She decided they'd be good for him. “He'll be in the hospital a few more days. He might appreciate a visit.”

“Consider it done.”

“Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?” Kyle asked as the older woman walked away.

Lindsey let out a soft laugh. “I guess not.”

“What do you want to do now?”

Praise music began in the sanctuary and a wave of peace washed over her. “Let's go inside.”

 

“You're looking better than you were yesterday, Daddy.” The praise service had lifted Lindsey's spirits more than she'd anticipated, giving her the necessary emotional energy to talk to her father.

He sipped water through a straw. “The pain in my hip is still intense, but I am feeling better.”

Color had returned to his face, and the monitors tracking his heart showed a steady beat and only slightly elevated blood pressure. All symptoms of the stroke had vanished. The challenge now was getting the information she needed without upsetting him.

She set her purse on the floor and settled back in the chair. Kyle had brought her but insisted he wait in the lobby. Finding out the truth, he'd told her, would be easier if he weren't around.

She wasn't sure her father would tell her anything, regardless of whether Kyle were there or not. She'd have to start slowly. “A lot of people missed you at church today. They're concerned. Mrs. James told me she was planning to drop by to see you.

Her father fiddled with the IV line on his arm, avoiding her gaze. “I know you want answers, Lindsey, and I know all of this is confusing for you.”

“All I want is what is best for you.”

He pressed his lips together but didn't say anything more.

“Daddy, I don't like meddling in your personal matters, but I am worried.”

He looked at her, frowning. “I told you—I need you to trust me, Lindsey.”

She studied the monitor. His heartbeat remained steady. It was now or never.

“Can I be completely honest with you, Daddy?”

“You know you can.” His words sounded amiable but he set his jaw and looked away.

She sent up a short prayer for wisdom and took the plunge. “I talked to your insurance agent yesterday. He told me you canceled your life-insurance policy.”

“Lindsey—”

“Daddy, please. I can't ignore what's going on. Surely you can understand that.”

She glanced at the monitor—his heart rate went up slightly.

“I'll admit to making a bad investment or two. I ended up having to borrow some money.”

“And that's why you cashed in the life insurance?”

He nodded.

Good. They were making progress.

“Was the money to pay Abraham or someone else?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don't want you involved.”

She wanted to tell him about the two break-ins but she was afraid he might shut down completely—or worse. How could she make him understand she needed answers? And that she was on his side?

“Daddy, I already am involved. At least tell me who you borrowed money from.”

He shook his head. “The less you know, the better.”

“How are you doing, Mr. Taylor?” A petite redhead in blue scrubs walked in, chart in hand.

“Not much has changed since you checked on me fifteen minutes ago.”

“Your father has a stubborn streak,” the nurse told Lindsey.

Now,
that
was an understatement.

“So does my daughter.”

Lindsey laughed, but the bleak reality of the situation had stolen any real joy from her voice.

Her father yawned. “I need to sleep.”

She ignored the nurse's nod of agreement. “Changing the subject?” Lindsey asked him.

“Yes.”

“We'll talk later.” She leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

“Promise me you'll leave the situation alone?”

“Have a good rest, Daddy,” she said, leaving the room.

 

Kyle stood outside the hospital, while he waited for Matt to answer the phone. Home from church by now, his friend was either taking a Sunday-afternoon nap or watching baseball. More than likely, the latter. Matt liked baseball, apple pie and a certain blue-eyed brunette named Megan he'd met last month. Time would tell if this relationship made it past the one-month mark.

He suddenly realized that his track record wasn't much better.

Matt picked up just before the phone switched to voice mail.

“Matt. Hey. How are things in D.C.?”

“Don't tell me you're calling on a Sunday to ask about work. Hang on a second—let me mute this.” The baseball game in the background went silent. “Are there problems with the new opening?”

“No. Not at all. We'll be up and running tomorrow.”

“That's what I want to hear. I knew there was a reason that I agreed to be your partner. So what's up then?”

Kyle hesitated, knowing what Matt's reaction was going to be. He might as well jump in and tell him straight. “I took on a new client.”

“Great.”

“Pro bono,” he added.

It took a full four seconds for what he'd said to sink in.

“Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be on vacation this weekend? Why are you spending time finding ways to suck money from our vast empire?”

Kyle laughed. Someone had been watching way too much sci-fi lately. “Did I mention she has honey-blond hair, big brown eyes and—”