The Forgiving Hour (37 page)

“You said she wouldn’t talk to you.”

He stopped, turned, and pinioned her with his gaze. “She will, because I’m not leaving her in peace until she does.” With that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Do not let the sun go down on your anger.

She ignored the Voice in her heart. God was asking too much of her. She’d tried to be obedient before, but this was asking too much. She
refused
to listen to that still, small Voice. Not this time.

And do not give the Devil an opportunity.

“It’s too late. The devil’s already had his opportunity, and he’s done his worst.”

But I am greater, Claire. Hear Me.

“I have a
right
to be angry!” she shouted as she rose to her feet. “I have
every
right.”

Dakota rang Sara’s doorbell and knocked for ten minutes before he decided to get help. He went to the complex’s rental office and told the manager, a Ms. Hopkins, that his fiancée was ill. He said Sara wasn’t answering the phone or the door and that he was afraid she might need a doctor, maybe even an ambulance.

“Her car’s in its parking spot, so I know she’s inside. I’m worried about her.”

His distress was real enough, and that probably helped to convince Ms. Hopkins that she might have a serious situation in one of her units. She grabbed the master key and hurried toward Building G.

When they arrived at the apartment, Dakota realized Sara might respond to Ms. Hopkins if she heard the manager calling to her through the door. She might tell Ms. Hopkins that she was fine and to go away. Then his plan would be ruined.

To keep that from happening, he pounded on the door before the manager could do the same. “Sara! It’s Dakota. Answer me. Are you all right?”

Silence was all they heard. He’d known it would be.

Ms. Hopkins looked up at him with troubled eyes, then slipped the key into the lock. She’d barely turned the knob when Dakota placed his palm on the door and pushed it open. He rushed in.

“Sara!” She wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. She wasn’t on the balcony. “Sara!”

He found her in the bedroom. She looked as rumpled as the bed she lay on. Dark half-moons shadowed the underside of her eyes. Her hair was limp and tangled.

“Is she —?” Ms. Hopkins began.

“I’ll take care of her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks for everything.” He looked at Sara again.

She rolled over, turning her back to him.

He waited until he heard the front door close behind the manager before he spoke. “I’ve come for some answers.”

No response.

He walked to the opposite side of the bed and sat down. When she started to roll over again, he stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. Unable to escape him any other way, she closed her eyes.

Help me, God. I need Your wisdom. I need to understand so I can help Sara. And my mom too. But how can I help them if I don’t know what happened? How can I get her to tell me?

A verse from the book of Job came to mind:
Now as for me, I said in my prosperity, “I will never be moved
.”

He couldn’t see the relevance and tried to clear his thoughts.

Never be moved.

I don’t doubt You, Lord. My faith’s not shaken.

Hear Me, Dakota. never be moved.

Understanding dawned. Of course. That was the answer.

Thanks, Lord.

He tightened his fingers on Sara’s shoulder. “You might as well start talking, because I’m not leaving here until you do. Whether that’s a day or an hour, a week or a month, I’m staying.”

“You’ll lose your job,” she said without looking at him. Her voice was low and hoarse from disuse.

“Then I’ll lose it. I don’t care.”

“Go away.”

“No.” He leaned toward her, kissed her cheek, and brushed the hair back from her face. “I love you. I’m not going until I know what terrible thing happened and what I can do about it.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t you know this is driving me crazy?”

A moment later, bleak green eyes stared up at him, and the pain he saw therein was like a dagger through his heart.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I don’t want to know.

When she rolled to her other side, he let her, still shaken by what he’d seen in her eyes, what he’d seen but didn’t understand.

An hour later, Dakota heated soup in the microwave and brought it to Sara. But she didn’t eat anything. Even if she was hungry— which she wasn’t — she couldn’t have eaten. Just the thought of food made her queasy.

Two more hours passed. Dakota continued to sit in the easy chair in the corner of her bedroom. He hadn’t attempted to force another conversation. He seemed determined to wait it out, no matter how long it took.

By evening she realized there was only one way she would be alone again, and that was if she told him what had happened with Dave. Only the unvarnished truth would drive Dakota away, out of her life.

And that, of course, was what she deserved: to lose him. Forever.

She remembered the conversation they’d had in this apartment three months before. On the night he’d proposed. She remembered telling him he needed to find someone else, someone better, someone without her tarnished past. He was a good and upright man. His heart was pure. He deserved a wife with a heart as pure as his own. He hadn’t a clue what evil she had done, what wickedness she’d performed.

And only knowing it would send him away.

I don’t want him to go. I love him.

But there wasn’t any hope for them. The truth had to come out. It
would
come out, now or later. It might as well be now.

And then I’ll never see him again.

With her heart breaking anew, she sat up on the bed. “You win.” She pushed a heavy mass of tangled hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go into the living room.”

Claire grabbed the telephone before the second ring. “Dakota?”

“No, it’s me. Kevin.” A hesitation, then, “What’s wrong?”

Softly, “Everything.”

“Can you tell me?”

“No.” She doubted he could hear her.

“Do you want me to pray for you?”

Louder, “No.”

“Claire, I —”

“No! I don’t want to pray. And I don’t want to talk to you right now either. I’m sorry. Good-bye.” She hung up before he could reply.

She stared at the telephone as if it were something that should be thrown out with the trash.

“I don’t want to pray,” she repeated. “I don’t want to be told I need to forgive her, and I know that’s what he’d tell me. I can’t listen to anybody telling me I shouldn’t be angry. I
want
to be angry.”

An icy chill uncoiled in Dakota’s chest as Sara revealed the details of her affair with his father. She didn’t make any excuses. She didn’t attempt to pretty it up. In fact, she seemed determined to make it sound as sordid as possible.

“I didn’t know he was married, but that doesn’t excuse me. I could have found out if I’d wanted to. All the signs were there. He was secretive, evasive. He didn’t give me his phone number or his address. He took me to dark restaurants and out-of-the-way places.” She laughed without humor. “But mostly just to bed. He never even said he loved me. I was that easy.”

“Sara —

“Get it through your head,
Mikey.”
She nearly spit the name at him, her voice rising to a near shriek with each syllable. “You were twelve years old and I was
sleeping
with your father.”

He understood now why she’d been vomiting on Saturday. He felt like being sick himself.

“Go away.” Whatever strength, whatever anger, whatever else she’d felt, it was gone now. She spoke in a monotone, emotionless, listless. “Please just go away.” She looked down at her left hand, removed the diamond engagement ring, and held it out to him. “I forgot to give you this the other day.”

“Sara …” he tried again, although he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

She rose from the chair where she’d been sitting, stepped over to him, placed the ring in his hand, and closed his fingers around it. “Lock the door on your way out.”

He caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes before she turned and walked down the hall, disappearing into her bedroom. A part of him thought of following her. But if he did, what would he say? What
could
he say?

“Is this how it’s meant to end, Lord?” he asked softly. “This certainly can’t be how it’s supposed to end.”

He got up and left the apartment, the sharp edges of the diamond cutting into the palm of his hand.

Curled into a ball on the bed, hugging her pillow to her chest, Sara heard the door close. Dakota was gone. He was gone at last. She’d done what she’d set out to do. She’d made certain he didn’t have any straggling illusions about her.

She remembered the night he’d proposed. She remembered his words of love and devotion. She remembered the hope she’d felt, the joy.

And now it was gone. Gone forever.

“Good-bye, Dakota,” she whispered. “I love you.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

The Boise River gurgled and babbled over the smooth boulders and stones that lined the bottom of the swift-flowing waterway. An eighty-degree temperature had joggers and walkers out in force along the greenbelt.