The Pastor’s Jezebel Lover (4 page)

She smiled at Erin, who sat with head bowed, deep in apparent meditation. Poor girl. She just wished she had more comforting words to share than the mere ‘She’ll be fine.’

The girl wasn’t stupid. She knew her friend wasn’t fine, not fine at all.

“Hey, there,” she said when the girl looked up.

“Hello, Miss Stoker.”

So they’d already told her who she was. She wondered what else they told her, for she had the distinct impression the girl was less friendly now than before.

“How are you holding up?”

Erin shrugged. “I’m doing what you said. I’m praying all the time, so that God would save my friend and leave her here on earth and not take her up to heaven with him.”

Eileen had to smile in spite of the circumstances. “I think I’ll join you. Perhaps if we both ask for the same thing, God will agree.”

Erin’s eyes lit up. “Do you really think so?”

“We can only try, right?”

“Cause I told my mom about what you said, and she said it’s all a bunch of hooey and I shouldn’t waste my time talking to the likes of you.”

Eileen winced. “That’s what she said, huh?”

Erin nodded, her face serious. Eileen was struck by how much the girl looked like she did when she was her age. The same auburn shoulder-length hair, brown eyes and small face. With a pang of remorse she realized Erin could have been her little girl, if that husband of hers hadn’t run off with another woman, and the town had poisoned her reputation so no man would come near her unless it was for a night of fun and games.

“I don’t believe her, though,” Erin was saying. “I think you’re much too nice, and momma has been wrong before. In fact she’s practically always wrong about everything.”

Eileen was amused. At least one supporter refused to believe all the gossip swirling the town.

“You’re quite right, Erin,” she assured the little girl. “I’m really not as bad as people think.”

“I know you’re not,” said the girl seriously. “Because you saved Suzie’s life, I know you did, and you told me to pray to the good Lord so she will be well again.”

“Let’s pray together,” suggested Eileen, and bowed her head in prayer, just like Erin did.

When Father Ramon entered the room five minutes later, he was surprised by the grace and the silence hanging like a sweet blanket over the room. At its heart a little girl lay fighting for her life, and on either side, a young girl and a woman who looked like she could have been her mother, sat praying in quiet reflection.

His heart touched, he watched the scene for a few moments before interrupting with some reluctance.

“Eileen?” he whispered, laying a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Your husband has been caught. He’s down at the police station.”

Her face hardened, and he thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. What had the bastard done to her? he thought, and felt a vein twitch in his temple.

“I hope they lock him up and throw away the key,” she said vehemently.

He laid his hand on her shoulder once gain, this time in silent support. “He… He claims it wasn’t him behind the wheel. Says his car was stolen…”

“He’s lying,” she said blankly.

“I know. And that’s what I told the chief of police. But he still wants to talk to you downtown. Do you want me to take you?”

She shook her head adamantly. “I’ll go by myself. Don’t want people to have another excuse to talk.”

He nodded. He understood. She was trying to protect his reputation as well as her own. Still he insisted. “It’s not a big deal. I need to go that way anyway.”

She nodded her gratitude. “Thanks, father. But I’m fine.” She then gestured at Erin and Suzie. “Perhaps stay here for a little while. I think they need you more than I do.”

Hesitantly, he agreed, wondering why all of a sudden he felt so reluctant to see her leave.

Eileen stepped through the double doors to the police station. She’d been here once before, in the early stages of her marriage. She’d discovered her husband had been cheating on her and had decided, after much deliberation, to file a complaint against him and then perhaps get a divorce.

How naive she’d been. Not only had the cops sided with Jack, they’d spread all kinds of horrible rumors about her, fed by her husband, and her reputation had suffered its first big hit. He’d made her out to be some sort of sex vixen, luring innocent men into her web, only to dispose of them later, claiming half of their possessions in the process.

She hadn’t had a decent man approach her since. Until today. Until Ramon.

She thought back with fondness to their moment in the sacristy. His arms around her, his body close to hers. It was the first time a man had held her like that in ages, and without ulterior motives at that.

She’d been more than a little surprised how her body had responded to the treatment. It was obvious she was craving the attention. In fact she’d craved something else, something he couldn’t possibly give her. She’d craved to feel his lips on hers, to feel his arms clasp her even closer and to undress her, slowly and tenderly, with loving care, until every inch of her body was exposed to his dark and sultry gaze, and his strong fingers could roam her skin uninhibited.

She’d longed to be kissed by him, not just her lips but all over, and most of all, down there. She’d had the brief temptation to offer herself to him, so he could take possession of her and make her his. She’d been under his spell, her arousal drowning her sense of propriety, and if he’d held her a little longer, she’d have thrown herself at his mercy, right there in the heart of the church.

Perhaps those old ladies were right after all. Perhaps she was some kind of floozy.

She stepped up to the desk and announced her arrival, not mentioning she was the former Mrs Rafter. She didn’t need to do the cops’ work for them. Besides, they’d smeared her reputation in the past, and they’d do it again in a heartbeat. The less she gave them, the less gossip they could spread.

She didn’t really understand what they needed her for anyway. Jack had hit the little girl, and he should pay for it, especially since he’d fled from the scene like the coward he was.

This had absolutely nothing to do with her, except that she was a witness. But she’d already given her statement, and had nothing more to add.

The officer behind the desk instructed her to take a seat in the waiting area so she did.

Her head held high, like was her habit when out and about town, she ignored the looks other people gave her.

She knew what they were thinking. That she’d done something wrong. That someone had filed a complaint against her. Another doctor jilted. Another man seduced. She didn’t care. She despised them all. It was the only way to retain her self-esteem in the face of so much garbage spread around about her. Even the little girl’s mind had been filled with the same junk. Good for her she didn’t believe a word of it.

Perhaps there was hope yet? Perhaps if the younger generation didn’t believe what their elders told them? If only people would draw their own conclusions, based on fact, not gossip…

An idle wish, she knew, human nature being what it was.

Five minutes later, a burly policeman stuck his head in and told her to follow him to the interrogation room.

At the mention of the word, several eyes swiveled in her direction, and she knew the minute her back was turned, the gossip machine would start to run full force.

She decided not to care, and followed the officer down a long corridor until they arrived at a small office.

Entering, he asked her to take a seat, and closed the door.

The room was bland, with white-washed walls, a table and three chairs. Not even one of those one-way mirrors you see so much on cop shows, she thought, and wondered what in the hell they wanted from her.

Suddenly she wished she had accepted Ramon’s invitation to bring her. He would have waited for her in the waiting area, perhaps, and knowing he was there would have calmed her frayed nerves.

But then she thought of all the people who would see him with her, and she knew she could never accept his offer. Not now. Not ever. She couldn’t drag him into the quagmire she’d lived in for the past couple of years.

Suddenly, the door swung open and the policeman who’d taken her statement back at the church, stepped in, a notebook in hand, and a serious look on his face.

He was a squat little man, his face oddly squashed, as if someone had sat on it, and wore the same rumpled suit she’d seen him in that morning.

“What is this about, officer?” she blurted out. Waiting had only increased her nervousness, and now she wouldn’t take a vague explanation even if he offered it to her. She wanted to know exactly why she was here.

The man didn’t disappoint her.

“Your ex-husband is accusing you of driving that car, Miss Stoker. He says it was you behind the wheel. Says he was nowhere near Saint-Theresa’s and this is all an attempt by you to cheat him out of more alimony.”

Officer Burt Howe eyed the beautiful Miss Stoker with keen interest. He’d heard about her, of course, but had never met her face to face until that morning.

She kept much to herself, and rarely stepped out of the house if she could avoid it. After her divorce she’d moved back in with her parents and she’d become something of a social recluse.

Nor could he blame her. There was a moral majority in this town that did much to sicken him in their self-righteous campaign to clear the town of anything that didn’t fit their warped agenda.

She was even more gorgeous than he’d supposed, he decided. The satin hair, freely flowing down her shoulders, eyes that shot with fury, and a chest any man would die for.

It was her ample bosom, he knew, that had given rise to so much gossip. No woman, according to the local inquisition, had a right to be so overtly sexy and get away with it.

And if anyone argued she couldn’t help being born this way, they countered there were operations that could take care of her problem, and she owed it to the community to have a breast reduction and diminish the evil spell she held over the male population.

Now that he came to think of it, it was only women who ever talked smack about Eileen Stoker, never guys. Men just wanted to get her into bed and have a look at the fabled Stoker puppies.

He shook the despicable thoughts from his mind and focused on the matter at hand.

“Your husband—”

“Ex-husband,” she was quick to correct him.

“Your ex-husband Jack Rafter claims you came to visit him this morning?”

“That can easily be disproved, officer. I was at choir practice all morning. At least a dozen people saw me there.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “Father Ramon told me you were never out of his sight.”

“So? What am I doing here, then?”

He scratched his scalp. “It’s not as easy as that, Miss Stoker. Your husband claims you stole his SUV. Says it wasn’t there this morning when he wanted to drive to work. So he naturally assumed you went to his place this morning and took the car. For the same token, though, you might have stolen it during the night or very early this morning. He says he didn’t see it after nine o’clock last night.”

“Steal a car? Me? I don’t even know how to drive one.”

He sat up a little straighter. “That a fact? Then why is it I found a driver’s license in your name?”

She waved a deprecating hand. “I got that thing ages ago. I haven’t set foot behind the wheel of a car in years.”

“But you can drive if you want to.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement of the facts. He returned to his notes. “He says you two have been arguing about the alimony lately? You applied to the court to have it raised?”

“I never did such a thing. There’s nothing I want from that man.”

“Well, I did find a request for an inflation-adjusted increase.” He produced the document and laid it on the table in front of her.

She scrutinized it carefully, then shook her head. “My attorney must have filed this. I didn’t even know about it.”

“Did you voice a concern lately that your ex-husband’s alimony payments were falling behind?”

“I did. He was becoming more and more irregular, and the amount hadn’t been increased for the last two years. My attorney must have taken the matter in hand. She’s a good friend of mine and doesn’t want to see me suffer at the hands of the man who cheated on me with the mayor’s wife.” She gave him a hard stare.

Burt blinked. That, he didn’t know about.

“It’s a well-documented fact, officer,” she said with a thin-lipped smile. “Was in all the papers at the time.”

Suddenly, curiosity got the better of him. “Are… they still together?”

She shook her head. “The mayor’s wife apologized profusely and her husband forgave her the misstep. Not that Jack minded. By then he was already screwing some other woman.” Her eyes glowed. “Did you know that he once confessed to me that he was unfaithful no less than twenty-five times in the five years we were together? I remember thinking at the time it must have been some sort of record.”

Eileen wasn’t surprised to see the policeman’s eyebrows shoot up at this statement. Her dearly beloved hubby was a philanderer like few existed, and the only thing she now regretted was that it had taken her five years to screw up the courage to leave him.

“Look, officer. I don’t know what kind of game Jack is playing, but I can assure you he’s full of crap. I should know. I gave him the best years of my life and he pissed them away without remorse. The man is not only a serial philanderer, but a very skilled liar as well. He’ll tell any lie to escape the consequences of his actions.”

“I can see that,” the policeman admitted, shifting in his seat.

For a cop, he was quite nice, she concluded. He treated her without the contempt some of his colleagues had once subjected her to.

“I think if you really look into the matter, you will find that Jack Rafter did run over that girl in the street this morning, and that he fled from the scene. And now he’s trying to pin it on me with this cockamamie story that I stole his car.” She threw up her hands. “Honestly, the story is simply too crazy for words. It’s a stretch, even for a compulsive liar like him.”