Leaving Yesterday (23 page)

“They would crucify you and you know it.”

“Probably some of them would.” I sat up and rested my forehead in my hands.

“Of course they would. I’m guessing that from the sheer volume of the backlash you’d have to leave there altogether. Not only the job, but the church.”

I was the Christian here. She was the friend I was supposed to influence for the better. I wanted to argue with her, tell her that these people would still love me and support me no matter what. The problem was, I wasn’t so sure that would be the case.

That afternoon, after a quick trip to the grocery, I found Kevin Marshall standing at my front door, looking at me with his deep blue eyes.

“Hey,” he said, with a smile I could barely resist.

I wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him thank-you for taking time out of his day to come see me, for distracting me from the things that haunted me. Instead, I settled for, “Hey, yourself.”

“Well, I told you I would be in town this week, and here I am. I guess if I’m going to keep popping by like this, I need to call first and give you a little warning.”

He stood there, looking like everything I so badly wanted at this point in my life. But there were so many things going wrong, I knew that if I didn’t stop this, and stop it right now, it would only make the disaster that much worse. I took care to keep my voice casual. “There’s no need for old friends to call each other when they are going to stop by.”

He smiled. “I’m glad to hear you feel that way. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go grab some dinner? We could talk about how things are going. There’s a new place in Solvang I’ve been wanting to try.”

It sounded so wonderful. A nice dinner, conversation with an interesting man, at least a few hours’ distraction from the things weighting my life. But when two married people start talking about going out of town to eat dinner, there’s really no other reason for it than they feel guilty. I had more than enough guilt in my life right now; I knew that I couldn’t stand even a little bit more.

“Kevin …” I looked at him, not wanting to hurt him, but knowing I could go no further with this. We were fast approaching the point of no return, the same point an addict crosses when the drugs become more important than doing the right thing. I would not put my family through that kind of aftermath again. “I’d love to, really I would. It’s just that … I can’t. … I mean, you’re so wonderful, and I love spending time with you, and I want to spend time with you, a lot of time. But, separated or not, I’m still married to Rick. It just doesn’t seem right. … No, that’s not true, it’s more than that. I know what I’m feeling is wrong.”

He put his fingers against my lips. “You don’t have to say another word. I understand.” His face turned a light shade of pink, and I knew that he did.

I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore and let my head drop. “I think we both understand each other, a little too well.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze and let go. “I’m going to miss our visits. It was one of the few things I looked forward to.”

I knew exactly how he felt. “Me too.”

“Well, I better get going.” He turned and walked down the steps, got into his truck, and drove away for the last time.

It felt good to have done the right thing. A really hard thing, something I would rather not have done, but something that was right.

There was something else I needed to make right, and I needed to do it while I still had the courage.

Thirty-One

For the entirety of the two-hour drive to Templeton that Friday, I thought about Kurt, I thought about Pamela, and I thought about the baby who would soon be born. Put up for adoption or not, I didn’t want my grandchild knowing that his real father went to prison. Still, Theresa Singer’s words were plastered like wallpaper in my mind. I couldn’t shut them out, no matter how hard I tried to think of other things. And the part of my conscience that seemed to have gone numb through all of this, well, it was suddenly awake, kicking and screaming. You can only stifle God’s Spirit so long. This was not a gray area. This was black. Dark black.

Once again, I drove past Jodi’s house and straight out to the orchards. Once again, I followed the sound of the men at work. They saw me coming before I got there and stood watching my approach.

Monte smiled. “The last time you turned up here unexpectedly, we found out you were about to be a grandmother. I’m wondering what news today’s visit might bring.”

As much as I wanted to laugh, or at least smile, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I started to cry.

“I’ll, uh, I’ve got a couple of things to take care of in the barn.” Monte disappeared on the quad, leaving me alone with my son.

“What’s wrong, Mom? Are you still thinking about the adoption?”

“No, Kurt, I’m not. I wish that were what this is about, but it’s not.”

“What then?”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you. In fact, I downright lied.”

“About?”

“You asked me if there was anything else in your stuff when I unpacked it. I said no, but that’s not true. There was one more thing.” I looked at him through my tears. “There was a Louisville Slugger there, too.”

His head drooped. “I guess I’m not surprised. The memory flashes are coming more often now, and they’re getting more intense. I’ve tried to convince myself all that was just a nightmare, but deep inside I know better. I think I’ve always known. It was real.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never going to tell you. I was going to let you get on with your life without ever knowing for sure.”

“What made you change your mind?”

I wanted to stop right there, never continue the conversation. But I did. “Someone else has been arrested for the murder.”

His head jerked up. “Who?”

“His name is Gary Singer.”

He gave a half snort as he looked down and began to study his own foot as it plowed a track in the dirt. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me. If it weren’t for the fact that I know he didn’t do it, I’d have written him in as the most likely candidate.”

Once again I thought of the unfairness of trading the already reformed citizen standing before me for a man that even a former addict considered less-than. I began to doubt my resolve, but then I saw Gary Singer’s mother’s face.

“I’ve tried to convince myself that he doesn’t matter, that it’s okay for him to be in jail because he probably deserves it for some other crime he never got caught for. But, Kurt, I can’t let his mother spend the rest of her life believing that she is the cause for all this.”

He nodded. “I know you’re right. It’s just …” He looked at the land around him. “I really thought I was going to make it.”

I grabbed him by the face. “And you still can. Get out of here. Now. Head to Mexico or Canada or wherever it is they won’t find you.” This idea came from somewhere deep inside me, and was spoken before I’d even realized I’d actually thought it. But I liked the idea. A lot. It left us with hope. “I’ll go to the police on Monday. That will give you two full days to get to somewhere else besides here. I want you to make something of the life you’ve just started to build, and you can’t do that if you’re locked up in a prison cell.”

He looked me in the eye for the space of ten seconds, then slowly started to nod. “I know a guy who does good fake papers. I could probably get some ID and a passport and get out of here.”

“Do it. That’s what I want you to do.” Maybe I wouldn’t be able to see him, but at least he wouldn’t be in jail. I could lie in my bed at night and know that somewhere my son was living free.

“Where is it?”

There was no need for me to pretend I didn’t know what “it” he was asking about. I looked him directly in the eyes. “I burned it.”

“Burned it?” He smiled, almost despite himself. “Gotta say, Mom, there’s a wild side to you I never knew existed. Who would have guessed something that wholly illegal was in your repertoire.”

“Yeah, well, when it comes to protecting my kids, I’ve found out there’s not much I won’t do.”

“I guess you had to find that out the hard way.” He continued to watch his foot plow across the dirt. “What made you burn it?”

“The Bible says, ‘As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.’ Your transgressions have been forgiven in Christ’s eyes. I didn’t see the reason to bother with anyone else’s opinion.” I reached my hand up and cupped my son’s cheek. “The person who swung that bat no longer exists. He died the day you went into rehab. The real you emerged from the drugged-out shell you used to inhabit, and once again became the person you were before all that. A person who deserves a chance at life.”

“Are you going to tell the police that you burned it?”

“I think I’ll have to. I can’t exactly produce the thing, and I suppose they’ll want to know the reason for that.”

He nodded. “Won’t that get you in trouble?”

“Probably. Lacey said destruction of evidence would likely be a misdemeanor, so maybe it won’t be that bad.” I didn’t tell him what else she’d said about obstruction of justice and accomplice after the fact. I wanted him to leave here with as free a conscience as possible. “Kurt, I have to tell the truth, but you don’t need to face this. Get out of here while you can.”

He nodded slowly. “If you’re sure that’s what you want me to do.”

“I’m sure.” And I was. It was the only thing that kept me going.

Two days later I sat in church, wondering if it would be my last time to ever worship here. Who knew what next week would bring? I might be locked up somewhere, or at the very least ostracized from this group of people. I smiled and hugged everyone on my way in the door, feeling tears sting my eyes as I squeezed just a little tighter. These people had been such a support for me, so much a part of my life, but I knew it would all change when they found out what a sham I’d been putting on all these years. And what else could my life have been except a sham, if I was willing to do something as terrible as I had done?

We sang some songs, but I barely listened. My lips moved, and sounds came out—at least I think so—but my mind was somewhere far away. When Pastor Maddox began the sermon, I had no idea what he was saying. Somewhere in the middle of it, though, I began to hear snatches of phrases, occasional words that caught my attention. Things like “pretense” and “being less than transparent.” Well, those things all applied to me. I’d been pretending to be so many things for so many people for such a long time. I supposed that one slip made the next easier.

At the very end of the service, he called for anyone who wanted to come kneel at the altar and pray to please come forward. I couldn’t hold myself in my seat. I rushed forward, certain every eye was on me, wondering what dark secrets I had that brought me up here so quickly. I knelt there with tears running down my face, thinking how far I’d let myself slide. I’d been so busy trying to be brave and “Christian-like” in front of all these people that I’d managed to completely shut God out of the deal. I buried my face in my hands and prayed like I hadn’t in weeks. I had been silent before God, thinking He wouldn’t notice what I was doing. Well, now I was going to come clean.

After a period of time passed, I have no idea how long, I opened my eyes. I was shocked to see at least a hundred people also kneeling at the altar. Were all these people here because they, too, had felt the pretense in their lives? Was it possible that I was not as alone in all this as I supposed?

I stood and returned to my seat. Other than Ruth Ann Sparks, who reached out to pat my shoulder as I returned to my seat beside her, no one seemed to notice that I had gone forward. I could detect none of the knowing stares that they all now knew what a fake I was. Other people slowly returned to their seats, until only a dozen or so remained at the altar.

Ken Maddox walked to the podium and looked out toward the congregation. “And Alisa Stewart, director of our women’s ministries, will be leading us in our closing prayer.”

I looked up in shock. Closing prayer rotated among staff members, and I’d never before lost track of my turn. Until now. I certainly did not want to go to the microphone, to say a prayer in front of everyone—today of all days. Not at all. Somehow, though, my feet did not seem to understand this, because before I could stop them, I found myself standing at the podium. I looked out at the congregation, row after row of people, who just a moment or two before had confessed their sins before God. Every person out there probably thought they had a terrible secret. Well, they had nothing on me.