Cradle and All (12 page)

“Like a family,” Anne said, not finding it difficult to picture Tom sitting at a table with a bunch of smiling kids.

After hearing the experiences of their fellow runaways, some had realized they didn’t have it so bad, after all, and had asked him to take them home. He was happy to do it. But for the remainder, going home would never be an option. They weren’t wanted there and they knew it.

“Did you consider that these kids could have been placed in foster homes?” Anne asked.

“They were emotionally and physically abused preteens and teens with attitudes. Anne, we both know that those kinds of kids are virtually impossible to place.”

She agreed with a troubled nod.

Anne’s phone rang and Tom reached into her bag and retrieved it for her. He took Tommy out of her arms as he handed her the phone.

The baby had finished feeding, so Tom flipped a fresh towel over his shoulder and proceeded to burp him. He spit up less this time. Anne told Maureen Cooper that she was in the middle of something and would have to call her back.

“Where does Lindy fit into all this?” she asked as she closed the cell phone.

Ah, Lindy. Tom held the baby with one hand as he chugged down the last of the bitter tasting coffee with the other. Compared with his thoughts it was sweet. He set his cup on the counter.

“Lindy showed up at the soup kitchen one afternoon. She wore a torn, skimpy outfit and was limping. One of the women parishioners who prepared the food asked Lindy if her pimp had hurt her. When I saw the shocked look on Lindy’s face, I knew that despite her appearance, she wasn’t a prostitute.”

Tom had talked to Lindy for hours as that snowy afternoon turned into evening. He’d tried to convince her she’d be safe at his shelter. But Lindy was very distrustful, even more so than the other runaways he’d met. She finally agreed to go because it was so bitterly cold out and her only other option was sleeping on the street.

Slipping onto the kitchen chair next to Anne, Tom settled the baby against his shoulder. “The other girls at the shelter later told me that Lindy had been beaten and kicked out of the house by her mother. The mother’s latest boyfriend was showing too much interest in Lindy and the mother was jealous.”

“Lindy told them that?” Anne asked.

“Apparently. She never said a word to me about her past then or later.”

Anne learned from Tom that it had taken two weeks at the shelter before Lindy started to relax and realize she was safe. Tom was trying to figure out which one of his parishioners he could approach to get her a job when the parish computer went into meltdown. Without a word, Lindy sat down at the terminal and fixed it.

“She must have been trained in computers,” Anne said.

“She told me she had taken a couple of classes,” Tom said. “But I also think she just had a natural talent.”

Tom put her to work in the parish office. In no time at all she had transferred all of the parish’s paper records to the computer database, was zipping out letters and answering the telephone like a pro.

“As the months went by, I didn’t know how I had ever done without her,” Tom admitted. “I said those very words to her. Only too late did I realize my mistake.”

“Mistake?” Anne repeated.

“Lindy was very leery of men. That was why it had been so difficult for me to convince her she’d be safe at the shelter. It didn’t take much imagination to realize she’d been sexually abused. But it didn’t occur to me that being kind to Lindy would be misinterpreted.”

“She thought you were in love with her,” Anne guessed.

“And she thought she was in love with me.”

“When did you find out?” Anne asked.

“She came into my office one afternoon and started to take off her clothes. I asked her to stop. When she told me she loved me and wanted me, I tried to explain to her that what she was feeling was gratitude—not love. When she persisted, I had no option but to leave the office.”

“You left?”

“Yes, Anne. I realized then that I had been wrong to let her work at the parish.” Tom exhaled heavily. “I should have realized it from the first.”

Anne heard the deep sadness in Tom’s voice as he described his conversation with Lindy the next day. He had tried to explain to her that he respected her too much to touch her in any way that would be improper. He told her he’d found her another job, away from the parish house. But Lindy didn’t want the other job. She begged him to let her stay with him. When Tom explained that it wouldn’t be possible, she became upset. Before she stalked out of the parish house, she telephoned the bishop and told him about Tom’s shelter for runaways.

“You never told your bishop about the shelter?” Anne asked.

“I knew neither he nor the rector would approve. When the bishop found out that I was taking care of homeless, underage kids, he demanded I close the shelter at once and turn the children over to the proper authorities.”

“Did you?” Anne asked when Tom paused.

“I tried to convince him that the only real chance for the kids was the support of adults who cared.”

Anne knew what Tom would tell her next—that his plea had fallen on deaf ears. The bishop could not condone violating the law under any circumstances. He’d given Tom twenty-four hours to close the shelter. Tom went to talk with the kids. He hoped to get some of his parishioners to take them in, but Lindy had gotten there first and convinced them that Tom was turning them over to Child Care Services. They had vanished into the wind.

“I’m confused why Lindy would turn on other runaways that way,” Anne said after a moment.

“I had hurt her,” Tom said. “She was trying to hurt me back by sabotaging what she knew I cared about—providing the kids with a family.”

“Did you ever see them again?” Anne asked.

“No. Lindy had spread the word on the street. None of the kids even came back to the soup kitchen. That’s why when the bishop asked me to interview for the vacancy at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Cooper’s Corner, I agreed.”

“You felt you had failed in Boston.”

“No, Anne, I
knew
I had failed in Boston. I told the search committee here all about the illegal shelter I had run for the homeless kids. And how I had let the kids down. The committee conferred quietly for a few minutes before their chairman, Felix Dorn, stood up, looked me right in the eye and said that the Berkshire Hills were full of survivors looking for a fresh start. And if I would like to join them, they would be proud to have me as their priest. That was just over a year ago.”

“And what of Lindy?” Anne asked.

“I did not see Lindy again until she presented Tommy to me for baptism last Friday afternoon.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t impregnate her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Anne’s face was suddenly full of light. Tom didn’t think he had ever seen anything more beautiful than her smile of relief.

“I could kill you for lying to me before,” she said.

“Anne, I’ve never lied to you.”

“Of course you did. You told me you were Tommy’s father.”

Tom took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I am.”

The smile washed off Anne’s lips like water. “Are you playing word games with me?”

“No, Anne. I’m telling you the truth. I will always tell you the truth.”

“Well, if Lindy wasn’t Tommy’s mother, who is?”

“There are some things that I am not able to discuss.”

“What’s to discuss? I just want to know who Tommy’s mother is.”

“I can’t say.”

“Tom, you can tell me,” Anne said, her voice a sudden plea. “I need to know. Please.”

“I...can’t.”

The disappointment darkened her eyes and her voice. “Why can’t you?”

Tom wanted to tell her. God knew, he wanted to be able to see her lovely smile again. He wanted everything that he knew was possible between them. With all his heart he wanted it. He would have given anything. No,
almost
anything.

“I can’t explain, Anne. Please understand. I would if I could.”

Anne rose to her feet. “I left my blouse here yesterday. I’m going to get it now.”

And then I’m leaving and I won’t be back.
She hadn’t said the words, but they were written all over the dark distress and disappointment on her face. She headed out of the kitchen.

“Anne...”

She didn’t turn around. A second later she was gone.

Tommy started to cry. Tom hugged him. “I know how you feel, little guy. Believe me, I know.”

The doorbell rang. Tom did not want to answer it. He wanted to go after Anne and find the words to convince her to stay. But he knew he had no words now that could do that.

The obstacle that stood between them was not one he could move.

The doorbell rang again. He had to answer it. The Church of the Good Shepherd was always open to those in need. He could still help others, even if he couldn’t help himself. Tom’s step was heavy as he went to see who was there.

* * *

A
NNE
FOUND
HER
blouse hanging up in Tom’s closet. It had been ironed. She let out a sigh that hurt. She didn’t want to be touched by anything that Tom did.

But she was touched by everything he did. When she listened to how he had put himself in jeopardy with both the church and the police by personally taking responsibility for those runaway children, she had seen a depth of courage and kindness in him that she’d never seen before in a man.

She tried to swallow the hard knot of disappointment sticking in her throat. After showing her all that, how could he do this to her now? All she had asked him for was the answer to a simple question. What was behind this stubborn secrecy that he held on to so tightly?

Well, whatever it was, she didn’t care anymore. She was fed up with his evasions. A man who couldn’t be completely honest with a woman wasn’t worth the anguish.

What kind of relationship could any two people hope to have when openness and honesty were missing? She didn’t have to wonder. She’d had two of those relationships already in her life.

The doorbell had sounded a moment before. As she stepped into the hallway, carrying her blouse, Anne could hear male voices coming from the living room. She was glad that Tom had company. Now she could slip out through the kitchen door and not have to see him. Ever again.

Then she heard Tommy let out an anguished cry.

Anne rushed to the end of the hall and looked into the living room to see what was wrong.

Two men were standing just inside the entrance with Tom. The short, burly one had a balding, broad head, shrewd eyes, and wore a custom-made silk suit. Anne conservatively estimated its cost at six months of her salary. A gold Rolex winked from beneath his sleeve. His voice was an annoying bark.

“I’m Attorney George Shrubber. This is my associate, Chet Bender.”

Chet Bender was a moose of a man with a mop of thick black hair and feral eyes. He stood at least six-five and probably weighed two hundred fifty pounds.

“Associate?” Tom repeated.

“I’m a private investigator,” the moose said with the high, squeaky voice of a mouse.

Tom regarded the two men silently for a moment as he bounced a fussing Tommy in his arms. “Why are you here?” he asked, and Anne noted an unusual coolness in his manner and tone.

“May we sit down?” Shrubber proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch without waiting for Tom’s response.

Bender, the moose, stayed standing, watching Tom and the baby with his small, piercing eyes.

“Father Christen, I understand you knew Lindy Olson pretty well,” Shrubber said.

Tom’s expression reflected nothing but his self-assured calm. “Is that what you understand?”

“Come on, Father,” Shrubber said, his voice now an irritating bark. “We know she worked for you at the Boston parish. And we know that she left her job a year ago when you...well, how shall I say this? Were asked to look for another parish?”

Shrubber smirked, as if he found that funny. Anne had the immediate and unwelcome image of a pit bull in pants. With every passing second, she liked this attorney less.

“And how exactly do you know all of this?” Tom asked.

“Bender, here, is a very good private investigator. Would you like to know what Lindy did after she left her job at the Boston parish?” Shrubber inquired, obviously baiting him.

“Is that what you’ve come to tell me?” Tom asked, still rocking the fussing baby.

“She went to work as an aide at a Boston hospital,” Shrubber said. “Of course, she wasn’t legally old enough. But she had stolen some ID. And, as you know, she could pass for a lot older than she was. You did know she wasn’t yet fifteen when she worked for you?”

“Get to your business, Shrubber,” Tom said, and there was no mistaking the lack of warmth in his tone.

“While Lindy was working as a hospital aide, she got knocked up,” Shrubber continued. “Probably by one of the orderlies. Doesn’t matter. Thing is, she lost the baby and sort of went nuts. She stole a newborn from the maternity ward.”

Anne listened to the attorney’s explanation. It seemed plausible. The autopsy report showed Lindy had given birth, but her baby could have been stillborn.

“Whose baby did she steal?” Tom asked.

“That doesn’t matter,” Shrubber said.

“It matters to me,” Tom said.

“Rolan and Heather Kendrall are the parents. Naturally, they were devastated, and approached me for help.”

“Why not the police?” Tom asked.

That would have been Anne’s next question.

“The Kendralls are very sympathetic people,” Shrubber said. “Lindy had been Mrs. Kendrall’s aide in the hospital. Mrs. Kendrall knew she had lost her own baby. She didn’t want to have the girl end up with a police record.”

“Sounds strange that she would put the welfare of a baby-snatcher above that of her baby,” Tom said.

“She wanted the matter handled sensitively,” Shrubber replied.

“Are you implying that’s why she went to you?” Tom asked.

“Both Rolan and Heather were afraid that if Lindy felt pursued by the police, she might just go off the deep end and hurt the baby or herself. The Kendralls are personal friends of mine. They knew I had access to a good private investigator and would handle the matter discreetly. Still, it took a while for Bender here to pick up Lindy’s trail.”