A Touch of Grace (17 page)

Turning the ichthus over, he read the Old Testament promise. “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

All his life the verse had brought him comfort. He had assumed his parents had given him the key chain when he was in the hospital with meningitis. Now he wasn’t so sure.

But what was the connection? Why had he thought of this today?

He concentrated so hard, searched so deep that a headache began to throb at his temples.

What if the caller was right? What if he wasn’t the person he’d always thought himself to be?

And if he wasn’t Ian Carpenter, who was he?

He longed to call his mother and ask, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt her that way. If she’d wanted him to know she would have told him long ago. And with her heart problems, asking was out of the question.

The old fear rose up inside that his thoughts were disloyal. That he would displease his mother and lose her love.

Foolish notions. But he couldn’t shake the awful feeling.

Gretchen stopped in the Isaiah House dayroom to chitchat with some of the residents she’d come to know. They seemed less intimidated by her presence these days,
and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. All of them knew that anything they said or did could easily end up on the six o’clock news, though her primary focus lately was the Riverside Shelter where rumors of inappropriate conduct between the director and the female residents ran amok.

The threat of an audit at Isaiah House paled in comparison to that. All charities went through them now and then.

She felt good today. Chipper. Happy.

Last night’s long talk with Ian about the cult had been surprisingly freeing. Funny how getting the experience out in the light of day helped. Ian’s gentle wisdom had given her hope that she could find answers. And maybe even make peace with God.

Maybe. She would take her slow, easy time to decide if Ian’s God was any different from Brother Gordon’s.

Gretchen patted a curly-haired teen on the shoulder and started up the narrow, wooden stairs.

Last night’s date had been fun. Revealing, too. He liked her. The knowledge filled her with a kind of feminine power. She liked him, too. More than liked. That’s why she’d been so disappointed when he hadn’t kissed her good-night. So she’d kissed him.

A little thrill ran through her. Next time, she’d do a better job of it.

Smiling, she hummed all the way up the steps to his office. The door was closed and all was quiet inside. She tapped softly and stuck her head inside.

“Ian?”

He was sitting at his desk, staring into space.

Goodness, he was handsome.

Her pulse fluttered. For once, she didn’t fight it.

“Hey, Reverend.” She tapped on the door facing. “Anybody home?”

As if in a daze, Ian turned his head toward her, expression blank. Normally full of wit and welcome, he didn’t say a word.

“Did I interrupt something?” Perhaps he’d been praying.

He let out a gusty breath and rubbed at his temples. “Why would you ask that?”

What an odd reply. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine. Did you need something?”

Need something? She blinked at him, confused.

He behaved as if they were strangers again, back to square one. Gretchen didn’t like the feeling. Where was the guy from last night who’d held her hand and made her laugh and wanted to kiss her so badly, he’d stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them off her?

“Yeah, I do need something. Lunch. We discussed this last night. Remember? You invited me.”

“Oh yeah. Sure.” His gaze flickered to the telephone.

“My treat today. The weather’s great. I’m in a good mood. All is right with the world. What do you say we walk down to Central Grocery and share a muffaletta?”

Her
joie de vivre
was lost on Ian.

“I’m pretty busy here.”

“Well, okay. I can run down there, grab a sandwich and bring it back here. We can eat out on the balcony in the sunshine. I’ll even let you play me a song or two. It’ll be perfect.”

“Look, Gretchen, I’d rather not. Okay?”

The terse comment hurt. “You’re acting funny, Ian. What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Was he upset about the kiss on the cheek? Or had she revealed too much of herself to him last night? Did he, as she had feared, hold her past against her?

Crossing her arms, she stepped away and went to the French doors that opened onto the balcony. She’d come up here today full of hope and joy and excitement for the relationship developing between them. Now she was embarrassed.

Behind her, chair rollers clattered. Ian’s tennis shoes made soft sounds as he came closer. She turned toward him, hoping he’d touch her. He didn’t.

He stood apart, looking lost and anxious.

“You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his shoulder muscle. “I’ve had a rough morning. That’s all.”

Ian never got much sleep, but he looked exhausted today. Worry cast fine lines around his eyes. And there was something else in those baby blues that she’d never witnessed before. Fear.

“Is there some kind of trouble here at the mission?” The audit wasn’t even a done deal. It couldn’t be that.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The accusation hurt. “No. I wouldn’t.”

Not now. Not when I’ve started to fall in love with you. Not when I have hope again. “I stopped hoping for the worst when we became—friends.”

She choked out the final word, afraid she’d given her feelings away. The man wouldn’t even kiss her. She had no right to assume anything about their relationship.

He relented then and took a step closer. “Forgive me, okay? I shouldn’t have said that. This is no excuse for bad behavior, but I have a lousy headache.”

“Is your mom okay?”

He jerked. “What?”

“Your mother. I thought maybe you’d gotten some bad news or something.”

“I haven’t called her yet. I guess I need to do that.” His voice trailed away and he looked at the telephone again.

She wanted to ask if they were still on for the trip to Baton Rouge next week but decided this was not the time.

Dazed, troubled, worried. All those adjectives described Ian this morning.

As if he’d forgotten her presence, he walked out on the balcony and stood at the rail, staring down at the courtyard. She wanted to go to him, to put her arms around his waist and comfort him, though she had no idea why.

A horrible foreboding came over her. If there was trouble at the mission, she was the last person on earth he’d ever tell.

Silent and thoughtful, she watched him for a long time, dappled in sunlight with the soft, velvet breeze teasing his dark hair.

Something was amiss. Ian never behaved this way. He was a people person, warm, friendly and courteous to a fault. He would never intentionally ignore someone unless his own concerns were overwhelming.

Suspicion lifted its snakelike head. If Ian’s problem lay here in the mission, finding out was her job.

The idea gave her no satisfaction whatsoever.

A week later, Ian, feeling like a jerk, was still avoiding Gretchen. Some of his initial shock after the bizarre phone conversation had dissipated, but he wasn’t ready to be in line with Gretchen’s radar.

She’d called at least a dozen times, left that many messages, but he hadn’t returned the calls.

He owed her an explanation, but what could he say? “I may not be who you think I am, but I’m not sure.”

If that wouldn’t be like saying sic ’em to a Doberman, he didn’t know what would. She already distrusted ministers. Here would be proof positive that he was another deceitful preacher, hiding behind God.

The whole idea that he might have an entire life he couldn’t remember was insane even to him. She’d never believe it. Even a four-year-old had memories. But he had none. Zero. Zip. Nada. No knowledge of brothers or of being adopted.

And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew Collin Grace. That the man’s claims had validity.

Somehow he had to discover the facts for himself, starting today during the trip to Baton Rouge.

Tying his newest pair of tennis shoes, he stuck the last two pair in a bag, determined to find new owners for them. Tabitha was more right than he wanted her to be. There was something psychological about his shoe purchases. He’d bought three new pair since that disturbing phone call.

He jogged downstairs, stopped at Roger’s office for a quick discussion of next week’s fund-raiser, and then headed to his van.

The back tire was flat.

He glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock. Mom’s appointment was at one-fifteen. He’d be cutting it close. Real close.

The old van was about worn-out. Next spring he’d think about buying another if finances allowed. He might even buy a real car for a change.

Yanking open the cargo door, he dug under the backseat for his jack. A car horn startled him. He jerked upright and bumped his head.

“Need a ride, stranger?” a feminine voice called.

Gretchen. His heart leaped. “Looks that way.”

He couldn’t be late today. His mother needed him, and he needed time in his boyhood home to dig through files and see what he could find.

Head smarting, he slammed the van door, locked it, then slid into Gretchen’s sporty little Miata.

“You were going to stand me up, weren’t you?” she said as soon as he buckled his seat belt.

Yes, he was. “I figured the date was off.”

“Why? Because you’ve been avoiding me?”

“You’re straightforward, aren’t you?”

“A reporter who mealy-mouths around doesn’t get far. I’m honest. I thought you of all people would return the favor.” She gave him a look as she shifted into gear and pulled out into the flow of traffic. “Did I do something wrong?”

He adjusted his seat and turned toward her. Green eyes flashing, her stubborn chin jutted toward the highway. She wouldn’t be easy on him today.

“No. You didn’t.” How did he explain? “I have a lot on my mind lately.”

“I noticed. I also noticed that you haven’t returned my phone calls and whenever I’ve come by the mission you’ve been mysteriously unavailable. Don’t you realize how suspicious that appears? What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing’s going on with the ministry, Gretchen. You have my word.”

“Okay, then. It must be personal. Are you sorry we went out on that date? Are you angry because I kissed you on the cheek? Are you trying to give me the royal kiss-off? Because if you are, say so. Don’t avoid me.”

Oh boy. The ride to Baton Rouge was going to be a long one.

Chapter Thirteen

I
an thought his head would explode.

The auditors were on their way.

Not that his books weren’t in stellar order. They were. But right now, he had about all he could handle.

“Lord, you said you’d never put more on us than we could stand.” He looked toward the ceiling. “Could I get a second opinion here?”

As had been the case for days, the prayer seemed to hit the stucco ceiling and bounce back.

Yesterday’s trip to Baton Rouge had revealed nothing to answer his head full of questions. During the little time he’d had alone at Mom’s house, he’d found no evidence of an adoption. But he hadn’t found any baby pictures, either.

He had, however, learned a couple of things. Neither of them made him particularly happy.

His mother’s heart was wearing out. And he was in love with Gretchen.

He’d never noticed before how much alike the two women were. Though of different styles, both were strong and bulldog determined. Neither had the word quit in her vocabulary. And both were imbued with an innate kindness. While Mom was a “bless-your-heart” Southerner, Gretchen was much more direct, but no less effective. Together they were a formidable force.

To his amusement and, if he’d admit it, his relief, the two woman had formed an iron front, peppering the doctors with questions and funny comments that kept everyone’s spirits up during the trying round of tests.

When the diagnosis came down, Mom had waved the bad news away with one thin, aging hand. “I’ll go when the Lord wants me and not a moment before.”

Afterward, she’d refused to discuss her health further and had taken them all out to a Mexican restaurant and then to a movie.

Ian figured Gretchen had a better chance of getting his mother to comply with doctor’s orders than he did.

“Gretchen.” When the barracuda of Channel Eleven had pushed into his life, he’d expected trouble. He’d been more right than he could ever imagine.

The resident knot in his neck became a boulder.

Watching her hound the doctors and entertain him and his mother had stolen his heart forever. Part of him was ecstatic. But the other part knew the relationship had no future unless Gretchen found her way back to God. No matter how much he wanted to push the issue, faith was a private matter and an individual choice.

And even if she did, would she be interested in
him, a small-time street preacher who wasn’t even sure who he was?

He blew out a weary breath. What little sleep he’d gotten last night had been filled with the dream. This time, he’d awakened in a sweat, screaming Collin’s name.

Was he crazy? Had the years of sleeping little and working too much with troubled souls caused him to believe the bizarre tale that he wasn’t Ian Carpenter? Or was he, as he feared, a total stranger to himself?

How could he ever expect Gretchen or anyone else to understand that his entire life had been a lie?

Until he could verify or disprove Collin’s claim, he couldn’t rest. But he had no idea how to do either without hurting his mother. He’d heard nothing more from Collin, but gut instinct said it was only a matter of time.

He pushed Roger’s extension to let him know the auditors were here. Business at the mission couldn’t wait while he sorted out his personal problems.

In three minutes flat, his bookkeeper burst into his office.

Hair wild as if he’d run his hands through it a dozen times, eyes wide, skin pastier than usual, Roger said, “Call them back. Make them wait. We can’t start the audit today.”