Love Remains (30 page)

Patrick started to wind up his introduction of the last chapter of the book. Bobby quietly excused himself to refill his water. He timed it just right. The last drops of water in the pitcher dribbled into his cup while everyone in the big circle numbered off to split into small groups.

Zarah moved off with group three. Bobby swigged the ounce of water and tossed the paper cup in the trash bin before joining her group. Thankfully, the overly groomed guy in the overly expensive suit with the overly white, overly straight teeth went into a different group with Flannery. Bobby didn’t know if he should be annoyed or amused at Flannery’s continued attempts to find someone for Zarah and thus make him jealous.

The chaotic flurry of moving chairs and figuring out who would sit where gave Bobby the opportunity to maneuver through the small group until he was right where he wanted to be—next to Zarah.

A cute pink flush glowed in her cheeks when she looked up and realized it was him. He so wanted to grab her hand and run off with her to a place where they could be alone, where they could talk through everything that had happened between them.

He opened the study book on his lap and slowly flipped through to the last chapter. He wanted to clear the air between them, but to what point? Just how honest could he be with her right now?

Although she did a great job of leading the discussion, Bobby couldn’t concentrate on it. The case kept interfering. He found an old
bulletin in his Bible and started writing down thoughts and questions that would not leave him alone, angled carefully so neither Zarah nor the guy to his right could see what he was actually writing down.

Whatever problems Zarah’d had last week with the changes to the Sunday school structure and the wording the pastor had used to explain it, the expression of contentment on her face during Patrick’s reminder tonight nearly rendered Bobby speechless. Just when he’d thought he’d seen her at her most beautiful, she managed to surprise him. He hoped she and Patrick had worked everything out—he didn’t want two of the most important people in his life at odds with each other.

Would Zarah initiate the conversation, or did she leave it up to Patrick? Bobby wanted to believe Zarah had grown into a woman who would stand her ground and meet conflict head-on. Of course, he also still worried that she had been so browbeaten as a child that any man with a strong personality would be able to steamroll right over her and manipulate her into doing something she didn’t want or believe in.

He looked down at the last questions he’d written.
What does T. Warren want from Zarah? What lengths will he go to get it?

“You guys may not know this about me, but I don’t do well with changes.”

Bobby looked at Zarah, then around the circle as the people in the small group smiled, chuckled, or guffawed at her blatantly obvious statement.

“But one of the main things I took away from this chapter is that God doesn’t necessarily put us in places of ministry permanently. I also believe He challenges us in the areas in which we’re weak—be it change, patience, grace, hospitality, or whatever area in which He knows we’ll have to grow stronger in our faith to be able to face the challenge.”

She looked around the group, her gaze resting on Bobby longest. “Last week, I was reminded by someone that sometimes instead of being called into a position of ministry, God might be calling us into a period of rest, a time when we can regroup and allow ourselves to
be ministered
to
instead of constantly ministering to others. It’s also a time to learn to refocus on our individual walk with God. It can actually be an exciting time, to be finished with one ministry and trying to figure out what God has in store for us next—because there are so many possibilities and usually so many things God wants to teach us during that time, if only we’ll be open to it.”

He grinned at her. So she had been listening to him last week.

The discussion continued along in that vein. Bobby continued writing questions, turning the order of worship every so often to make use of all the margin space. Though he hadn’t been dragging his feet by any means, ever since he walked in this room tonight, a sense of urgency made him anxious. He needed to close this case as soon as he could.

Zarah closed them with prayer. Patrick made a few more announcements. For safety’s sake, Bobby was about to leave with just a quick good-bye to Zarah, but she stopped him by laying her hand on his arm.

“Can we…will you…?” Zarah pressed her lips together, frustration gleaming from her blue eyes. “There’s something I need to talk to you about—and a favor I need to ask you. Do you have time for coffee?”

“Sounds serious.” He tucked his Bible and the study book under his left arm.

“It is.” She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—meet his gaze.

Bobby’s heart sank. Something she needed to talk to him about?
Please, Lord, don’t let her confess to being involved in the fraud. I don’t think I could handle that
. “Sounds like this might not be the best conversation to have on an empty stomach. I missed supper tonight, and I’ve been craving Mexican food all day. How about that taco place over on the corner of Edge Hill and Villa Place?”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you over there.” Her mouth quirked up in a half smile, but then she looked away again, cheeks pink.

“No problem. See you at the restaurant.”

He had to admit it. That woman confounded him sometimes. Last
week, she’d practically cried on his shoulder after the meeting with the pastor. This week, when he’d first seen her, she appeared flirtatious and willing to consider giving a relationship a shot…then she acted nervous and embarrassed around him.

Which one was the real Zarah? Rather than stay here and be swarmed by the Stepford girls, Bobby nodded his good-byes and left the room with haste.

“Bobby?” The feminine voice echoed in the hallway.

He cringed and turned around. “Yes?”

Flannery stalked toward him. “I need a moment of your time.” She stopped a few feet from him, tossed her blond hair over her shoulders, and crossed her arms. “I want to know what you think you’re doing.”

“Excuse me?” He mirrored her stance.

“When I first met Zarah fourteen years ago, she was one of the most fragile, broken people I’d ever seen. There were times when I didn’t know how she managed to get up and go to class, she was so defeated and wounded. You did that to her.”

Bobby’s gut wrenched, imagining Zarah in such a state. “I didn’t—”

Flannery held up one hand. “Zarah seems to have put that behind her. It’s obvious she still has very strong feelings for you. And that’s why I want to know what you’re doing.”

“Are you…?” He dropped his arms to his sides. “Are you asking me what my intentions toward Zarah are?”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “If you want to put it in such antiquated terminology.” Moving a few steps closer, right into the edge of his personal space, Flannery poked him in the sternum with her sharp index finger. “If you hurt her…if anything happens and she ends up broken and defeated again…”

Flannery glanced over her shoulder as if checking to make sure what she said next wouldn’t be overheard. “I know you’re some bigwig agent with the state criminal investigations department. But I know people. I have connections you would never imagine. All I have
to do is pick up the phone”—she patted the device clipped to her belt—”and I can ensure the rest of your life is miserable and not worth living.”

Bobby would have laughed—but for the suspicion that Flannery might actually be telling the truth. If he remembered correctly, her mother was Italian, from New York. Though he hated using ethnic profiling and stereotypes, he wouldn’t be surprised if what she said was true.

Of course, he could arrest her for threatening an officer of the law but decided to let it pass…this time. “My, uh,
intention
toward Zarah is to see if we can clear the air, put the past behind us, and move on to rebuild a new relationship as adults. Whether that relationship is friendship or something more remains to be seen.”

Flannery’s expression softened slightly. “And do you want that relationship to be more than friendship?”

He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with her. “I see potential for that, yes. But I’m not going to push her into something she’s not ready for or doesn’t want.” Not that he could right now anyway. Not while the case was still active, and not while there was the possibility she might be about to confess something to him tonight that would put him in the position of being the broken, wounded one. If Zarah was involved…

No, he couldn’t think that way. She wasn’t involved. She couldn’t be involved. She didn’t know the first thing about deceit and treachery—except what her father had taught her the day he’d changed both of their lives forever.

He left the church and drove over to the Edge Hill area, just beyond Music Row. The development of what had been mostly rundown residential properties before he left Nashville continued to amaze him. As did the issue with parking in this area of town. Seemed like nowhere he went had adequate parking.

He finally found a space—and an old, small, silver Honda Civic squeezed into a tight space just a few down. He waited for her, leaning
against the trunk of his late-model black Dodge Charger.

Zarah paused to zip up her ivory leather jacket. “It’s getting chilly out here.” She grinned. “I love fall.”

“I remember. That’s one of the first conversations we ever had—how fall is your favorite season.” He refrained from putting his arm around her, his hand on the small of her back, as they walked toward the restaurant.

“And summer is yours. California must have been ideal for you.” She reached for the door handle, but he was too quick for her. She glanced up with a grateful smile, then entered ahead of him.

“It was, in some respects. But there were many, many reasons I didn’t like it and wanted to come back home.” He caught the hostess’s eye and raised two fingers over the heads of the large party milling about in the entry. She waved them forward.

“Sorry about that,” she said when Bobby and Zarah caught up with her. “We had a birthday party descend on us unexpectedly. Would you prefer a table or a booth?”

“Table.” Bobby glanced down at Zarah, who’d said it at the same time, and winked. “Jinx.”

“He’s too tall to sit at a booth,” Zarah explained to the hostess. “He kicks me constantly.”

Warmth settled in Bobby’s gut. She said that as if no time had passed since the last time they’d been alone together in a restaurant.
God, please don’t let her be involved
.

The hostess found them a table in a corner where it wasn’t too noisy and handed them each a menu. “Enjoy your supper.”

“Thanks.” Bobby didn’t bother opening the menu. He knew exactly what he wanted.

Zarah opened the menu and started reading it. “Wow—these are some of the most unusual tacos I’ve ever heard of in my life. Thai shrimp. New Orleans po’ boy. Lamb gyro. Unless I’m reading this wrong.”

“You’re not reading it wrong. Those are all tacos.”

“Whatever happened to beef and cheese?” But the amusement in
Zarah’s tone indicated she didn’t mind the lack of traditional Mexican dishes on the menu. “You know, I’m not very hungry. I think I’m just going to have the chicken tortilla soup.”

Silence fell until after the waiter took their order and brought their iced teas.

Zarah added two packs of artificial sweetener to her unsweetened tea. Bobby sipped his—not as sweet as they usually made it, but not bad.

He allowed her to finish stirring and taste it. “So, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

“How about the favor first?”

“Okay.”

“I had lunch with Senator Todd Warren today.” Zarah ran her thumb and index finger up and down the beveled edges of her glass.

“Right.” The sound of the man’s name coming off Zarah’s tongue grated on Bobby.

“There’s something about him that doesn’t quite sit right with me.” Zarah launched into some of the details of her conversation with the senator. “It made me wonder why he’d ask questions like that. He’s taken a rather unusual, personal interest in…the commission and the work I’m—we’re doing there.”

Had she told him the story of her ancestors when she gave him the guided tour of the facility? Had her face glowed the same way when telling him the story as it had when she’d related it to Bobby? He tried to shake the jealousy off. “Was that all?”

The food would arrive right then, cutting off Zarah’s response. As soon as the waiter left and Bobby said a quick blessing, he asked his question again.

“Well, he asked me out—on a date. Dinner and a movie.”

No comfort food in the world would salve the mental and emotional wound knowing Zarah had gone out with Warren again would cause. “And what did you say?”

“I told him I thought it would be inappropriate for us to have a personal relationship outside of the committee. I don’t want it to raise
ethical questions for either of us.”

His heart did the Snoopy dance, pumping extra hard once as if giving an emphatic
yes
! “So what is the favor you want to ask?”

“I know you’re already extremely busy at work, and I wouldn’t want to generate any more work for you. And if this is something that would be wrong or unethical for you to do, you have to say no. Okay?”

She looked so earnest he almost laughed. Instead, he employed his emotion-free interrogator’s mask. “Okay.”

“I wonder if you might look into Todd Warren for me. See if there’s any reason I should be concerned about the amount of attention he’s showing me—the commission.”

Emotionless. Interrogator. Unflappable. Yeah, right. Bobby fought the smile trying to break through. “I think I can do that for you.” No reason she needed to know he already had a pretty thick file of information on the senator.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, but it didn’t linger when she looked down at the minipot of soup she’d been stirring since it had arrived.

“You’re welcome. Now, about that other thing you wanted to tell me…?”

“I–it can wait. Let’s just enjoy our dinner. I’ll tell you some other time.”