Rainbow's End (15 page)

“H
ow about a cup of coffee?” Keith looked over at Jill as Marni ushered Kyle into her office for a counseling session.

“This is getting to be a habit.” Even as she spoke, she reached for her purse and jacket. In the beginning, Jill and Keith had stayed close by during the sessions. But Kyle had taken a great liking to Marni. Midfortyish, with large, owl-like glasses and a lively, engaging manner, the therapist had an innate ability to put people of all ages at ease. As a result, Jill and Keith felt comfortable stepping out during the sessions.

“I can think of worse habits,” Keith countered with a grin.

“No argument there.” Jill rose, and Keith held her jacket as she slipped her arms inside. Then he ushered her to the door, his hand in the small of her back. The protective gesture represented nothing more than simple good manners, Jill knew, but it felt good.

The late-October day was unseasonably warm, and they decided to walk the three blocks from the office to the café near the water. As they strolled down the sidewalk, Jill's attention was caught by a children's book on orca whales in a
shop window. Dominic had been fascinated by the whales this year, spending hours searching for signs of them with his binoculars. A perfect Christmas gift!

“I'm going to run in and get that book for Dominic,” she told Keith. “Why don't you go ahead and save us a table?”

“Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes.”

Ten minutes later, the book tucked under her arm, Jill climbed the steps to the waterfront coffee shop. There was no sign of Keith—and only one unoccupied table on the terrace. Maybe he'd gotten hung up inside.

As she stepped over the threshold, it was clear from the line that snaked down the center of the café that the shop was doing a booming business. It was a popular spot with tourists whiling away the time as they waited for the next ferry. She spotted Keith near the front and turned to grab some napkins, planning to go out and secure the one remaining table for them while he placed their order.

“Reverend Michaels!”

A female voice boomed across the small shop, and Jill froze, then slowly turned.

The woman who was approaching Keith looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties. Jeans hugged her ample hips, and she wore a purple sweatshirt emblazoned with the words, Go, Falcons! in bright gold letters. A large tote bag was slung over her shoulder, and the camera hanging around her neck banged against her chest in rhythm with each ponderous step she took.

“Frank…. Frank! Look who's here!” The woman threw the words over her shoulder and continued barreling toward Keith. A video-camera-toting man, with thinning gray hair and a slight build, scurried along in her wake.

The woman thrust out her hand, leaving Keith no option
but to take it. Some of the color had drained from his face, and his subdued response was barely audible over the buzz of conversation in the small shop. “Hello, Gladys. Frank.”

“Well, imagine meeting you here, of all places! Isn't this the strangest coincidence, Frank?” The woman's voice carried easily over the din.

“Strange,” the man agreed, confining his response to one word—as if he knew that was all he'd be able to squeeze in.

“My word, we do miss you, Reverend! Why, the way you just up and disappeared broke our hearts. Course, we understood the reasons. And we didn't blame you one bit. But I want you to know we never did believe that hussy. Not for a minute. Did we, Frank?”

“Never did,” the man confirmed.

“And we were right, too. Do you know just a year after she caused you all that sorrow and trouble, she…”

The sudden, sonorous boom of the ferry horn set off a flurry of activity in the shop.

“Come on, Gladys. Can't miss the ferry, or we'll be stuck here all night.” The older man rushed through the words in one breath, skipping the punctuation, as if afraid that any slight pause would invite an interruption. Taking his wife's arm, he urged her toward the door.

The woman hoisted her shoulder purse higher. “I guess we have to go, Reverend. But it was good to see you. I sure am sorry about all the bad things that happened. And I still pray for your dear wife, God rest her soul.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Take care, Reverend.” The man held out his hand, and Keith shook it.

Within thirty seconds, the place had cleared out as the
tourists dashed for the ferry, leaving Keith and Jill alone, surrounded by a sudden, unnatural stillness. Only then did he see her. At her stunned expression, his face went another shade paler.

“Sir? Sir, can I help you?”

Forcing himself to look back at the clerk, Keith gave their order by rote before turning back to Jill. “I'll meet you outside, okay?”

His voice was as shaky as she felt. With a silent nod, she headed for the deserted terrace.

When Keith joined her a couple of minutes later, Jill was still trying to come to grips with the conversation she'd overheard. If Keith was a minister, why had he kept it a secret? And why had he left the ministry? Who was the hussy the woman had referred to? What role had she played in Keith's problems? What had happened to his wife? Her mind swirled with questions as she looked over at him, but she asked none of them. For whatever reason, he'd kept his past a secret. She had no right to probe just because she'd been privy to a chance conversation. But she wished he'd felt comfortable enough to tell her about it. That he'd considered their friendship strong enough to withstand whatever he had to say. She thought they'd become closer than that.

As Keith set the coffee cups on the table and took his seat, he didn't need a degree in psychology to sense Jill's hurt or to know that she was overwhelmed with questions. He could read it in her eyes. And he intended to deal with both the questions and the hurt. Gladys's appearance had forced his hand, but it was one he had intended to play within the next few days, anyway. It was time he told Jill the reason for his year-long trek, time he shared with her the pain and sorrow, the humiliation and anger that had eaten away at him for two long
years, until her gentle, healing kindness had touched his soul and begun to make it whole again, leading him back to God.

He'd come to that conclusion over the past three or four weeks, as the studio neared completion and he realized that he was fast approaching a decision point. He'd started spending more time alone, talking to God, seeking guidance, strength, direction—none of which had come overnight. After such a long estrangement, his communication skills with the Lord had been rusty. But when he'd taken his father's advice and simply spoken from his heart, the fog surrounding his life—and his future—had begun to lift.

Though patches of mist continued to obscure parts of the road ahead, one thing had become very clear. It was time to confront his past, deal with his unresolved issues, clear the air and forgive. And it was also time to stop asking “why” and let it go, as Jill had done. Only then could he determine his next steps.

With his dad acting as intermediary, and the cooperation of Reverend Thomas, the arrangements were now set for his journey to the past. He hadn't planned to tell Jill his plans in a public place, but the café was deserted. There was no reason to put it off. Especially in light of the conversation she'd witnessed.

“I'm sorry you heard all that, Jill.” He gripped his mug with both hands as he looked at her.

She focused on the coffee she no longer wanted, tipping in a little cream to lighten the inky hue. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she was talking really loud and…” When he reached over and took her cold fingers in his warm clasp, the words died in her throat.

“That's not what I meant. I'm just sorry you heard it in that
way,” he clarified. “I'd planned to tell you the story before I leave next week.”

Jill felt as if she'd been slapped. She jerked her head up and stared at him, her stomach twisting into a knot. “Y-you're leaving next week?”

At her bereft expression, Keith gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I have some unfinished business to attend to. I won't be gone long.”

Confused, she stared back at him. “You're…you're coming back?”

“I'd like to. If that's okay with you. I've got another job lined up, over in Deer Harbor.”

He was staying! Maybe not forever, but at least for a while.
Thank you, God!
“Sure. T-the cabin will still be here.”

The warmth of his smile sent a tingle all the way to her toes. But as he released her hand and took a sip of coffee, the curve of his lips flattened into a grim line. “There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Jill.”

“Are you…are you really a minister?”

“I was. For twelve years. At a little church in Ohio. Ever since I was a young boy, I'd felt the calling to serve the Lord in ministry. And it was everything I'd expected. Life was good for a long time. I had a lovely wife, work that mattered and that fulfilled me, a close relationship with God, a congregation that supported me and valued what I did…everything was perfect. I felt very blessed.”

Setting his coffee aside, he turned to stare out over the harbor, his troubled expression at odds with the sunny sky above and the boats gaily bobbing in the clear water. “Then things started to change. My wife, Ellen, and I both wanted children, but she suffered two miscarriages back-to-back.
After the first one she became very depressed, which seemed normal to me. Who wouldn't be sad about losing a baby? I grieved over it, too. But I put it in the Lord's hands, and tried to console her. Nothing helped, though, until she got pregnant again. For a while things were good. Then complications set in, and she lost that baby, too.

“After that, the depression returned with a vengeance. I'd never witnessed despair that dark, and it scared me to death. Her behavior became erratic, and it got to the point that I was afraid to leave her alone. Her doctor said her melancholy was intensified by hormonal changes and prescribed some medication. But she'd often forget to take it, and she began to spiral deeper and deeper into darkness.”

A chill rippled through Jill, triggered more by the ominous nature of Keith's story than the sudden change in air temperature caused by a passing cloud that briefly obscured the sun.

“I worried about Ellen all the time,” Keith continued. “When I wasn't with her, I'd call every couple of hours, and I asked neighbors to stop in and check on her throughout the day. To say I was distracted would be an understatement. For the first time in my life, I felt unable to cope, and despite my prayers for guidance the Lord was silent. I couldn't imagine how things could get worse. Until they did.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “While all this was going on, I was counseling a young woman in our congregation. She was having marital problems, and she requested more and more sessions. I was so distracted by my personal concerns that I didn't realize she had begun to offer…more than sympathy for my situation. When her intent finally registered, I told her that I had no interest in the ‘comfort' she was willing to provide and referred
her elsewhere for counseling. I thought that was the end of it. But I was wrong. She didn't take kindly to being rejected. I just didn't realize how angry—or vindictive—she could be.”

A cold, hard look gripped Keith's features, one Jill had never seen before, and another chill chased its way down her spine. “A few days later, Susan—that was her name—called me. She sounded almost suicidal, and she asked me to meet with her once more. Since I was already dealing with Ellen's depression, I understood how unstable it could make a person, and I couldn't in good conscience refuse her request. Nor would I have been able to live with myself if I turned her down and she took some desperate measure. She suggested we meet in a public place, a park near the center of town. I figured that would be safe and agreed.

“I got there first. When she arrived, she seemed very agitated. I urged her to sit down, but she paced around in front of me, talking about how unhappy she was in her marriage and how she'd made a mistake…the same things I'd heard in our previous sessions. Then, all of a sudden, she started to sway, like she was going to faint. I grabbed her, and the next thing I knew she…she pulled me toward her and kissed me. Before I could react, she jerked away and slapped me. I remember her saying in a very loud voice, ‘I told you I'm not interested, Reverend. I'm sorry you're having problems at home, but I'm a happily married woman.' And then she ran off.”

Drawing an unsteady breath, Keith looked back at Jill. “It was a setup, of course. When I turned around, I saw one of the elders from our church with his family. Somehow Susan had gotten wind of the fact that they were planning a picnic in the park, and she arranged our meeting knowing that he'd witness the whole thing. To complicate matters, he'd never
been one of my strongest supporters. He thought I was too traditional in my interpretation of scripture, and we'd often clashed. Anyway, the scandal swept through the town like wildfire. Of course I denied everything, but Susan stuck to her story, putting on an act worthy of an Academy Award.”

When he continued, his voice went flat. “Bottom line, the board asked me to resign. After all the clergy scandals in recent years, they wanted to distance themselves from anything that even smelled of impropriety. Under normal circumstances, I would have fought such an unjust accusation with everything in me. But the scandal and the whispers and the pressure proved too much for Ellen in her already precarious mental state, and she…she took her own life.” His voice broke. Resting his elbows on the table, he pressed his lips against his laced fingers and closed his eyes.

Horrified by his tale, Jill reached out and laid her hand on Keith's shoulder. She felt hate bubble up deep inside, hate for a woman she'd never met, whose vindictive actions had turned this kind, good man's world upside down and robbed him of both his wife and his work. Though she searched desperately for words of comfort, she knew there was nothing she could say to assuage his grief. All she could do was touch him, and hope that somehow he could feel her caring and sympathy through her fingertips, just as she could feel the tremors that rippled through his body.