Love Remains (12 page)
She moved the mouse to hover over the correct link, closed her eyes, and clicked A
PPROVE
.
“Lord, that better have earned me a jewel in my crown.” Her appetite now ruined, Zarah dumped the half-full bowl of oatmeal in the garbage disposal and washed the bowl and set it on the drainboard.
Rather than return to the computer to risk seeing any more e-mails that might make her want to take permanently to her bed, Zarah went into her office, pulled the stack of quizzes from tonight’s class out of her bag, and sat down to grade them.
At nine o’clock on the nose, the time she usually left class, she turned her cell phone on. It immediately started chirping, announcing a backlog of text messages. Students asking questions about the assignment she’d given (she texted back, clarifying that their papers must be at least ten pages long and the works cited had to include at least five sources not found online). Patrick wanting to know if
she would be okay with leading one of the small-group breakout discussions during Bible study tomorrow night (she was always happy to help in whatever way she could).
Kiki called to check up on her. Zarah spent fifteen minutes assuring her grandmother she was fine; yes, she ate supper; yes, she would get plenty of sleep; no, she didn’t need Kiki to bring her a pot of soup. As soon as she hung up with Kiki, one of the young women from the singles’ group called to cry over her breakup with a guy she shouldn’t have been dating in the first place.
During that phone call, Zarah got the majority of the quizzes graded, as the frequently heartbroken young woman did not need much more than
hmm
s and
oh really
s from Zarah. After the girl spilled everything, she thanked Zarah for helping her feel better and ended the call. Zarah shook her head and set the cell phone down, then rubbed her sore ear. She graded the last two quizzes, interrupted by only one text message—a mass text from Patrick reminding everyone what chapter of their book they were supposed to read for tomorrow.
Feeling it safe to leave the phone sitting on her desk for a moment, she returned to the kitchen to retrieve her laptop so she could record the grades online. If she didn’t post them tonight, she’d be getting texts all day at work tomorrow from students wanting to know why they weren’t showing up yet.
The phone, with the ringer turned to the lowest volume setting, nearly vibrated itself off the desk before Zarah realized it was ringing once again. She caught it before it tipped off the edge of the desk. Caylor’s name and number scrawled across the touch screen.
“Hey, girl.” Zarah slid the phone open, exposing the keyboard and turning on the speaker-phone feature. She set the device beside the laptop and pulled up the appropriate Web site and logged in.
“Hey, yourself. Hope it’s not too late.”
Zarah checked the clock in the bottom right corner of her computer screen. Eleven fifteen. “It’s before midnight, isn’t it?”
“That’s what I figured. I’m grading my sophomore American Lit
class’s first test. It’s going to be a tough semester.”
“Same here—with the Tennessee History class at the community college. Haven’t given the first quiz at Robertson yet.” She created a new line item in her online grade book and started entering the rather depressing quiz scores. “What’s up?”
“I’m just calling to see if you’re really okay.”
“I haven’t had a single coughing spell all day.”
“That’s not what I mean. I was thinking about our conversation Sunday afternoon. I know that this whole Bobby thing has to be harder on you than you’re letting on. Even though you tried not to show it when we first met way back when, he broke your heart, and I know you secretly hoped he’d come back for you someday.”
Zarah pulled her fingers off the keyboard and pressed them to her closed eyes. Caylor had the bad habit of seeing much more than she should. As not just a professor of literature but also a multi-published author, Caylor constantly studied the people around her.
“Zarah?”
“I’m still here. And yes, when I was still young and naive and hadn’t cottoned on to what he’d really done to me, I did hold on to a false hope that he would come to his senses and ‘rescue’ me—that he would prove that everything my father told me about him was wrong. But he didn’t. He never truly cared enough about me to find out where I ended up or try to get in touch with me.”
“But he’s here now. Maybe…” Caylor’s voice, soft to begin with, drifted off.
“Maybe what? Maybe he’s changed his mind after all this time? Or maybe he’s found something else he thinks he can gain by trying to seduce me again?”
“Sed—what?”
Zarah had to laugh at the shock in Caylor’s voice—Caylor, of all people, to be shocked by the word
seduce
. “Okay, maybe that doesn’t have the right connotation. But he dated me in order to…” What had he gained by dating her? Her father’s rules for dating couldn’t have
been clearer: Zarah and her sister were forbidden to date enlisted men. “You know, I don’t even know why he dated me—except maybe he thought dating the general’s daughter might get him some kind of special attention or favors.”
“You think he dated you to get in good with your father—for what? Promotion? Transfer? But you said you told him pretty soon after you started dating how your father treated you. Why do you think Bobby continued dating you for so long after that?”
“I have no idea. I mean, why did he end the relationship by telling my father about us, instead of just dumping me when he found out my father didn’t like me and didn’t want me dating an enlisted man?” Zarah tapped her thumbnail against her front teeth. “Why wait until right before he knew I’d be moving away for college anyway?”
“Bobby knew you’d be leaving?”
“He knew I was planning to leave for college after I graduated. I had already been accepted to summer school at Vanderbilt. Of course, I was depending on my father to pay for my travel and housing, as he’d said he would do. Instead, I got a few hours to pack up what I could carry and two hundred dollars for a bus ticket anywhere but there.”
“Thank goodness you had your mother’s address book—and that your grandparents still lived in the same house. I hate to think what might have happened to you if you’d gotten here and hadn’t been able to contact them.”
Zarah shuddered. “I know. Me, too.”
Caylor was silent for a long moment. “So, back to my original question. Are you okay?”
“I—” No. She could lie to herself, but she couldn’t lie to one of her best friends. “I don’t know. I thought I’d forgiven him a long time ago, but seeing him again dredged up a lot of pain and anger I thought I was finished with. I just wish he would leave me alone.”
“What is the worst that could happen with him here now?”
“The worst?” Pain tore at Zarah’s throat. “The worst thing that could happen would be for him to fall in love with someone else, and I would have to watch it.”
“So Flannery’s right. We’re going to have to find your Mr. Right first. Then it won’t matter what Bobby Patterson does.”
Chapter 9
B
obby hadn’t attended Wednesday night church since he graduated from high school—and he’d only gone before then because his parents had made him go whenever he didn’t have football practice, trying to keep him on the straight and narrow. So when Patrick told him about the Bible study he led after the church’s Wednesday night supper each week, Bobby wasn’t certain he would attend.
So what was he doing here now?
“Bobby, hey!”
He was pretty sure the blond in the business suit had been at both the cookout last Friday and lunch Sunday, but for the life of him, Bobby couldn’t remember her name. She looked too much like several other women who’d also been there. He inclined his head toward her.
“Hello.” He shifted his Bible into his left hand and shook hers.
“Lyssa Thompson.” She flashed him a toothy grin. “If you’re anything like me, it’ll be awhile before you can remember everyone’s names.”
He was pretty sure he wasn’t anything like her, but he didn’t bother to mention that fact out loud. Extracting his hand from hers, he glanced around the room for Patrick…who happened to be in
deep conversation with Zarah and a couple other people.
Of course Zarah would choose exactly that moment to glance around the room, too. Her face froze as soon as her gaze locked with his, and then her smile faded when she glanced to his right and saw Lyssa Thompson standing slightly too close to him. Zarah turned her attention back to Patrick, but Bobby couldn’t help but be affected by the all-too-brief encounter.
She was jealous. His ego and pride flared up. Yep. She was jealous and hurt that it appeared he was
with
Lyssa Thompson, not trying to figure out a way to extricate himself from her.
Good. She deserved to be hurt—just like she’d hurt him.
Guilt punctured his pride. It didn’t matter what she’d done to him; he shouldn’t revel in anyone’s being injured—emotionally or physically—by anything he did or appeared to do. Though he wasn’t certain why he felt God was calling him to join this church, to be part of this singles’ group when Zarah was here reminding him of his past, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that both he and Zarah needed to move on, needed to forget whatever had happened between them way back when and focus on building futures—separate futures—without the bitterness they both obviously held for each other.
He allowed Lyssa to reintroduce him to some of the folks he’d met before as well as to several people who’d been out of town for the holiday weekend. He made a point, though, when Patrick called the room to order, of sitting with some of the guys instead of beside Lyssa. He didn’t want
anyone
getting the wrong impression.
Patrick opened with prayer then invited everyone to open their books to chapter four. Bobby glanced around. Everyone in the room had a copy of the same book—everyone but him. Why hadn’t Patrick forewarned him? He had a copy of it at home—he’d studied it on his own during an especially isolating case in which he hadn’t been able to attend church lest he risk blowing his cover.
Someone tapped his shoulder and handed him a book from behind. He glanced around to thank the mystery benefactor—but
Zarah turned and walked away as soon as he took the book from her grasp.
After giving an overview of the themes and spiritual issues raised in the chapter, Patrick used an old sports technique and had everyone number off from one to six to determine which small group they’d go into for the discussion part of the lesson.
Bobby carried a couple of chairs over to where group four was told to assemble. He sat and looked across the circle—and Flannery McNeill glared back at him.
He tried to keep his expression neutral. If Flannery wanted to have a go at him, she wouldn’t get any help from him.
After a quick whispered exchange with Zarah, Patrick joined them. “If y’all will turn to the discussion questions at the end of the chapter, we’ll get started.”
It didn’t take any coaxing to get the group talking about the theme of the chapter—developing confidence in one’s identity as a Christian. Bobby was impressed. Patrick had this group well trained. Though a few of them started out answering the questions by flipping back through the chapter and reading passages they’d highlighted as the “correct” answers, they quickly diverged from the safe ground of what was printed in the book into expressing personal beliefs and opinions—without having to be prompted to do so.
Somehow, the discussion veered onto the subject of self-worth and self-esteem.
“If someone’s really a Christian, a genuine, sold-out believer,” Lyssa Thompson raised her voice to gain the small group’s attention, “they wouldn’t have low self-esteem or problems with self-worth. If they’re really a Christian, they will have all the self-confidence they need. After all, that’s what the Bible says—that our confidence is found in Jesus.”
Flannery glared at Lyssa. While Bobby didn’t agree with the Barbie Doll look-alike, he didn’t think her statement glare-worthy.
“Yeah,” Patrick drawled, looking somewhat consternated. “The
Bible says we can be confident in our salvation in Jesus and because of what He did for us. But it doesn’t say that becoming saved means we’ll suddenly be confident in everything we do.”
“No, that’s not what I said. We’ll still have questions when we face decisions, like job changes and other life-changing events. But if someone’s saved, they won’t have such low self-esteem that they’re afraid to participate in things like witnessing or evangelism or outreach.”
Flannery slammed her book closed. “The Bible says we all have different gifts and talents. Some people have the gifts of”—Flannery looked like she was censoring words to find something appropriate for this venue—”gifts that require…boldness and brashness and the ability to talk to just anyone. But not everyone is called to do that. It’s just like Paul wrote: The whole body can’t be just a mouth. Some people are gifted differently—to be quiet and work in the background and do all of the piddly little things no one else wants to do so that someone who’s called to
outreach
or
evangelism”
—Flannery’s somewhat snarky tone of voice put invisible quotation marks around the two terms—”doesn’t have to deal with all of the details.” Her hazel eyes shot flames at Lyssa.