Redemption Series: Redemption Part 30

When the counseling session was over, before they went home, Kari and Tim had walked hand in hand through a wooded park together, talking. They promised to dance more closely together from that point on.

A quick knock at the dressing-room door told Kari she needed to put the memory aside. "Okay, beautiful, time's up," Hank said. "Let's work these sets and get home."

"All right ... coming."

Kari adjusted the next outfit and put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on her appearance.

She, too, was eager to finish the job and get back home.

She and Tim were getting follow-up counseling with a Christian psychologist in Bloomington. Their next appointment was this evening, and Kari had at least an hour's drive back home before that. She smiled to herself. The counseling sessions were sometimes difficult and painful, but thinking of them made her feel a sense of hope. A tender, tentative sense of a hope that could mean only one thing: Her broken heart was beginning to mend.

266.

Fifty-five miles south, at the Silverlake Apartments, Angela Manning sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and contemplating Tim's disappearance. She simply couldn't comprehend what had happened. Their relations.h.i.+p had been going beautifully. There were a few tensions, but that was normal, wasn't it? Angela had been sure that things would calm down once Tim's divorce was really in the works.

Then one evening while she was at the library, he had simply packed up and disappeared, leaving only a short note to explain his change of heart.

Her heart ached as she picked the note off the coffee table and read it for the hundredth time since he'd gone back to his wife.

Angela, I'm sorry. I've made a terrible mistake, and it's destroying me.

I need to be with my wife, and you need to move on. Forgive me. Tim At first Angela had wondered if the note was some kind of bad joke, Tim's attempt to scare her. But when he didn't show up that night or the next, she began to panic. Never had she intended to get involved with a married man. But once she had, the only thing that kept her going was a strong belief that his marriage was over and his future was here with her, at this apartment just off campus.

To think that Tim might never have been serious about her, that he had perhaps allowed the affair to continue with no intention of being with her on a long-term basis, was more than she could bear. It made her feel cheap and sordid and used.

Just like the woman her father had left home for.

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and took a sip of coffee, remembering the shock of those first few days after Tim left. When she realized he'd gone home to his wife, she told herself he'd be back. He had left only because of his guilty conscience.

267 When he realized what he'd left behind, he'd start divorce proceedings-the way he should have months ago-and then come knocking on her door.

But after a week had pa.s.sed, Angela began to have doubts. Had Tim's wife come back to him so willingly? Tim had said she was staying with her parents before.

But now, were they already living together? in their house?

Angela couldn't stand the thought, so for the past two days she'd left hourly calls on Tim's office voice mail, desperate to talk to him. She'd even considered going to his office and waiting for him. She drummed her fingernails against the coffee mug. If he didn't call her back today, that's exactly what she would do. She had no choice.

Because now that she'd fallen in love with Tim, it didn't matter whether or not he was married. All that mattered was being with him.

All she could think about was him.

The phone rang.

Angela jumped and sloshed coffee on her jeans as she rushed to pick up the receiver. It was Tim; it had to be. Of course he'd call her back. He loved her as much as she loved him. This going-home thing was only part of the separation process, something he had to get out of his system. Yes, that was it.

A ray of hope shone across her heart, and she clicked the b.u.t.ton. "h.e.l.lo?"

There was silence for a moment, and then Angela heard someone breathing on the other line. Apparently Tim was upset and having trouble speaking. She was about to say his name when a man began talking. "Hi, Angela. It's me."

Angela felt the sting of disappointment. "Who is this?"

The caller uttered a single chuckle, and something about it sent a chill down Angela's spine. "Don't you know, baby? It's Dirk." Frustration filtered through Angela's veins. Dirk Bennett?

Hadn't she gotten through to him yet? The kid was obsessed. The fact that they'd slept together didn't mean she wanted to 268.

marry him. Besides, he was so young. After being with a man like Tim Jacobs, there was no way Angela could go back to a boy.

She released a sigh that conveyed her irritation. "What do you want?"

He was silent for a while, no doubt weighing her reaction. "Well ... I know you're not seeing the professor anymore, and I wondered if you'd go out with me tonight."

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dirk. I won't go out with you tonight or tomorrow or any other night. Our dating days are over. Are you reading me?"

Dirk's breaths grew louder and closer together. "Don't you understand, Angela?"

There was something odd about his voice, and Angela felt the chill again.

"Understand what?"

"Ever since we fell in love, I've been making plans." His voice was louder, angrier than before.

Angela glanced at her watch and considered hanging up on him. Tim was probably trying to call, and here she was carrying on a conversation with a deranged guy she hadn't dated in a year. She ma.s.saged the bridge of her nose and tried to be patient. "What plans?"

Dirk hesitated, his voice softer again. "Plans to marry you, Angela. I have everything worked out."

Angela couldn't have felt more disgusted if a dozen spiders had been released down the back of her sweater. "Are you crazy? I have no intention of marrying you." She shuddered at the thought. "I've got to go."

"Wait!" She was about to hang up when Dirks voice sounded again. This time his words were couched in nothing less than hatred. "The professor doesn't want you, Angela. He's back with his wife. I saw them together the other day. Holding hands."

Angela's breath caught in her throat, and a searing pain ripped across her heart. No! It wasn't possible. Tim was only taking some time to collect his thoughts; he wasn't really back with his wife. It had only been a few weeks.

269 "Did you hear me, Angela?"

Dirk's tone frightened her, and this time she did hang up. When the phone rang fifteen seconds later, she took it off the hook and hid it beneath a pillow.

Then, for the first time since Tim moved out, Angela buried her face in her hands and cried.

An hour later, when her sobbing had eased, she stretched out on the sofa and considered her options. She didn't like any of them.

She had an idea. It was deceitful, even downright dirty. But the more Angela thought about it, the more she believed it could work.

At the very least, it would get Tim back to her apartment one more time. After that it would be simple to convince him to stay. She'd gotten him to fall in love with her once; certainly she could do it again.

The idea grew and took shape until Angela was convinced it was the right thing.

If she had to lie and manipulate a little, well, too bad. It was the only way she could think of to save what she and Tim shared.

Otherwise how would she survive?

Angela considered the coming holiday season and her busy cla.s.s schedule. Her idea was brilliant, but she wouldn't act on it until after Christmas break. That way she'd give Tim time to change his mind without her having to lie to him.

She smiled, feeling better than she had since Tim walked out. One way or another, she would win him back.

It was merely a matter of time.

"Angela! Talk to me!" Dirk shouted into the phone for nearly a minute before giving up and slamming the receiver back down. He tightened his fists, noticing the way his biceps bulged beneath his T-s.h.i.+rt.

If only she could see him, see the way he'd worked his body 270 into a piece of art. She'd never give the professor another thought.

Some kind of annoying boy-band music was playing in the dorm room next to his, and he pounded his fist against the wall. "Turn it down!" Almost instantly the music grew quiet. But Dirk barely noticed. He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Angela.

How dare she mock his offer? ridicule him without giving him a chance? Dirk ran a hand through his hair and knew it was thinning because of the pills. His trainer had warned him that on the higher doses, hair loss was possible. He paced across the room once more and stared at the picture of Angela tacked near his bed.

This was all the professor's fault. In fact, maybe the man had tricked Dirk.

Maybe he was still making stops at Angela's apartment. Ever since Dirk spotted a second car parked in the professor's driveway, he'd been sure that the man had reunited with his wife. But what if he was still seeing Angela on the side?

The thought blinded him with rage. He grabbed a gla.s.s on his nightstand, threw it on the floor, and smashed it with the heel of his boot. His heart pounded as he thought about his precious Angela, blinded by the lies of a two-timing loser like Professor Jacobs.

Dirk dug his fists into his thighs and gritted his teeth. There was only one way to know for sure. He'd have to start watching her apartment again. Not every night like some kind of deranged stalker. But often enough to catch the professor if he really was stopping by. Often enough to know if that was why Angela was giving him such a hard time.

His calendar hung on his bulletin board nearby, and he yanked it off, pulling the tack out in the process. Thanksgiving vacation was in two days, but after that he'd start watching Angela's apartment at least three nights a week. He'd switch the days around until he could catch Professor Jacobs in the act.

Then he would scare the professor away once and for all. Even if he had to break the law to do it.

271.

THANKSGIVING DAY WAS UNSEASONABLY warm that year. John Baxter found he needed only a light sweater when he slipped out on the front porch after dinner.

It was a typical Baxter holiday-warm and bustling and loud. Kari and Tim were in the kitchen wrapping leftovers. Erin and Brooke had taken the children out back for a game of tag while their husbands, Sam and Peter, tossed a football with Luke. And Elizabeth was in a heated discussion with Ashley about the importance of spending more time with Cole. John loved the presence of his family, but he needed to clear his thoughts. He closed the door behind him and found Pastor Mark Atteberry sitting on the steps outside, alone.

He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm glad you and Marilyn could join us."

"It's been great." Mark turned, his eyes veiled in peace and contentment. "We need more of this. One-on-one with the Baxters." John leaned back and fixed his gaze on the bare trees that lined the driveway. "Can you believe it? Tim and Kari in there together, as if their marriage wasn't all but over a few weeks ago?"

272.

"It's amazing." Mark kept his eyes on the horizon. "Goes to show you how good G.o.d is." He paused, and his eyes narrowed. "I was praying for them during dinner. They're trying so hard, being so careful with each other." He hesitated.

"I take it Ashley and Brooke don't approve of his presence today?"

John sighed and took a seat next to the pastor. "It'll take some time, but they'll come around. They want Kari to be happy." Mark stared across the front yard. "She and Tim have been attending Sunday morning services. I keep hoping they don't run into Ryan Taylor."

A breeze stirred the nearby trees, and John thought of Kari's fis.h.i.+ng trip with Ryan. "She'll always have feelings for him." "Yes."

"But she loves Tim more."

"I think so. She tells me love's a decision." Mark stroked his chin. "I like that. She's decided to be married to Tim for better or worse, and something beautiful is growing out of that decision. It's really something."

They were silent for a long while, and the smell of freshbaked pumpkin pies wafted out the window behind them; mingling with the distant scent of burning leaves. It was john's favorite time of year, the season when memories of his family, his children's younger days, were close enough to see and hear and touch.

Mark inhaled long and slow and tapped his knee. "How's Ashley these days? I haven't heard much about her since all the troubles with Kari started."

John felt his eyes water. "Life has never been easy with Ash. Not when she was a young girl, and not now."

"She was a cheerleader in high school, wasn't she?" "Briefly. Until she decided she wasn't the type."

Mark nodded. "That's right, I remember. And wasn't there one boy who always pursued her?"

"Landon Blake. Ran for the cross-country team, graduated same year as Ashley.

His family used to go to Clear Creek 273 Community Church, but they moved into town, and now they go to one of the big churches near the university."

"Whatever happened between Ashley and Landon?"

That's what John liked about Mark Atteberry. He pastored by heart. His concern for his congregation went far beyond their partic.i.p.ation in church activities.

He cared for them as people, cared about their lives, whether they were once-a-year Easter attendees or families like the Baxters, who were anch.o.r.ed in the history of the fellows.h.i.+p. Because of that, he was one of the best, most loving and effective pastors John Baxter had ever known or heard of.

John considered his question about Ashley and Landon. "It's a long story."

"I figured." Mark smiled. "Tell me about it. I've got time.." Dessert was still an hour away, and the two men were not in a hurry. "We always thought Ashley would go to college. Like her sisters. Maybe teach art or manage a music studio nearby." He paused. "We knew she was different, but we never thought she'd dive off the deep end." John gazed across the brown gra.s.s, and suddenly he could see Ashley pulling into the driveway the summer before her senior year, marching defiantly into the house, and demanding more time with her friends.

"She'd met some people at a coffeehouse down by the university. Most were three or four years older than she was, caught up in some kind of seventies retro movement."

That was the year, John explained, when she began dressing differently, wearing tie-dyed skirts, and walking out of the house without brus.h.i.+ng her hair. Several times that summer, John and Elizabeth had shared their misgivings with her.

"We suspected she was drinking, maybe even dabbling in drugs because of all the changes we'd seen. But she was careful not to get caught, and we couldn't be sure." John shrugged. "We didn't want to force the issue."

In the end, nothing had come of their talks other than added 274 tension. When she got caught drinking at a high school party that spring, no one was surprised. Least of all Landon Blake.

"He came by the house after that and told me he loved Ashley. It was something in his blood, he said. No matter what decisions she might make, he'd love her until the day she died."

"Big words from a high school boy."

John considered that and nodded. "Landon's always been old for his age. More mature."

From an early age Landon Blake had been serious and highachieving, with movie-star looks and a wiry athleticism. He was active in track and field and was easily one of the most popular boys in their cla.s.s. Girls were always after him, but he was interested only in Ashley. And each time Ashley turned him down, he grew more infatuated with her.