The Runaway Pastor's Wife (40 page)

David didn’t look up, but was keenly aware Pete
could see the imperceptible nod of his head. There was a decided difference in
the air. A wall had come down and they both knew it.

Pete straightened his back. “Now, I want you to
know a few things. When the story hit the papers—”

“Don’t remind me,” he moaned.

“—I took it upon myself to pay a visit to your
mother-in-law.”

David looked up. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. Maybe I was out of line, not
talking to you first. But I knew the aftermath of that little stunt was going
to be huge. I don’t have to tell you, that’s one
strange
woman.”

They both laughed, the tension easing. “You
don’t know the half of it. God’s been really merciful to give me a love for her
over the years. But this—”

“Well, once we got passed the theatrics, I was
very blunt with her. I pointed out the problems she had created for everyone
concerned. Of course, she hadn’t thought about any of that. I also warned her
to stay away from the press. She didn’t like that much until she agreed they
hadn’t been altogether accurate in their coverage. Said they ‘highly
exaggerated’ her comments.” Pete smiled. “And no, I didn’t buy that for a
moment.”

“Sounds like you’ve got Darlene pretty well
pegged. She is a piece of work, isn’t she?”

“That she is.” Pete’s face turned more serious.
“I’ve gotta tell you, I was rather stern with her. Folks can be intimidated by
the uniform anyway, so I took advantage of that and let her have it. She went
way
over line with this, in my opinion.”

“I’m sure you did fine. I wondered why we hadn’t
heard from her since all that hit the fan. It’s not like her to be so silent.
But trust me, it’s a welcome silence. I’m not complaining.”

Pete leaned forward, his elbows resting on his
knees. “David, what can I do for you? How can I help you?”

“You tell me. Annie promised to keep in touch. I
haven’t heard from her in three days. And if that wasn’t enough to drive me
mad, now Max is gone.”

Pete straightened again. “What?”

“He took off early this morning to find his
mother. Not that I blame him. I should have done it as soon as I found her
note. But Max is only sixteen!”

“So where is he?”

“He called in about an hour ago. I still don’t
know how he found out where Annie might be.
Honestly, Pete, I think I’m
about to lose my mind. I can’t even think straight anymore. What should I do?
What would
you
do?”

“For starters, I can put out an APB on him, if
you’d like. That way we can locate him.”

“I’m not so sure about that. If he gets pulled
over, it’s liable to spook him. Then again, I suppose it’s not so unusual for a
teenager to get pulled over, is it?”

Pete laughed. “No, it’s not.” He pulled his
Blackberry out of his uniform pocket. “I’ll need the year and make of his car
as well as the license number.”

“Then we have a problem. He’s not in his car.”

“Whose car does he have?”

“I don’t know. He’s trying to play this whole
thing his way. I asked him about it, but he said he didn’t want to involve
anyone else or get anyone else in trouble. I guess we could ask a few of his
friends.”

“I can do that for you. If you can give me some
names of his friends or school mates I can run them down. David, tell me
something. Do you have any possible idea where Annie could have gone? Any place
you’ve visited before? Maybe the home of a friend or a family member? Any idea
at all?”

“I’m clueless. I’ve talked to everyone I can
think of where she might have gone. Nothing. No one’s seen her or heard from
her. ”

Pete returned the Blackberry to his pocket. He
stood, prompting David to head for the door. “David, we’ll work this out. We’ll
find them. Give me a little time to make some calls and I’ll get back to you.
You have my cell number if you need to reach me.”

David patted him on the back. “Pete, I don’t
know how to thank you.”

“Look, it’s like I said—I consider it an honor
for you to confide in me like this. And I take that level of confidentiality
very seriously.” He smiled as he turned to leave. “I mean, what are friends
for, right?”

David fought the lump in his throat and grasped
Pete’s hand in a firm handshake. “Absolutely.”

CHAPTER 29

Eagle’s Nest

Annie settled Michael back onto the sofa then
burrowed into her cocoon at the other end of the sofa. She covered both of them
with piles of quilts and blankets. They couldn’t stop shaking.

“One more favor.”

“Michael, I’m not a slave here. Do you mind?”

“Hand me the guitar over there.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Get it yourself.”

“Very funny.”

She dropped her head against her chest. Throwing
back the covers, she hopped on her good foot across the room to the instrument
resting in its stand by a wooden stool. “This is the last favor.”

“Talk is cheap.”

She handed him the guitar, growling at the cold.
Once under her blankets again, she wrapped an afghan snugly around her head for
warmth and glared at him.

“That’s lovely. You look like one of Tevya’s
daughters in
Fiddler on the Roof.
” He smiled while tuning the acoustic
guitar. She noticed a slight grimace, his efforts no doubt painful against the
wound in his shoulder.

“Whatever.”

His long fingers worked their magic, patiently
finding the perfect pitch of each string. Finally satisfied, he strummed a few
chords, humming no melody in particular.

“So help me, if you play—”

He interrupted, breaking into song with
Fiddler’s
most famous tune
.

“I knew it.”

“What have you got against matchmaking?” he teased.

“Nothing. You’re just so predictable.”

“Okay, okay, I couldn’t resist.” He laughed, his
fingers dancing across the strings as he played through the pain. She’d
forgotten how well he played. She watched him, absorbed in his own little
concert. Bits and pieces of old songs drifted through the air. Led Zeppelin’s
Stairway
to Heaven,
Emerson Lake & Palmer’s
From the Beginning
 . . . the
haunting melodies, a part of every guitarist’s repertoire.

When at last he settled into a quiet ballad, the
first notes sent a spontaneous rush through her. The sweet familiar chords of a
song once so intoxicating made her dizzy with memories. She closed her eyes,
knowing the lyrics that would follow.

James Taylor.
Something in the Way She Moves.

Their song.

Annie’s heart fluttered at the caress of his
voice, a sound so intimate she could feel the heat crawling across her face.

His serenade continued. James Taylor couldn’t
have done it better.

She couldn’t help the smile that tugged her lips
as she rocked gently to the rhythm of his concert.

He nudged her with his toe beneath the quilts as
the melody continued. “I see that smile.”

“Be quiet. I’m listening to the music.”

“Are you now?” he teased, the bridge of the song
filling the space between them.

“You know you wanna sing, Annie. “C’mon, sing
with me.”

Much to her own surprise, she did. Her voice,
like so many times before, found its place alongside his in perfect harmony.

He finished with a flourish, the last guitar
note hung in the air. She smiled shyly at him before turning her head and
gazing back at the fire.

“That gave me goose bumps,” he whispered. He
laid the guitar across the coffee table. “But then you always did give me goose
bumps.”

The embers hissed as if on cue. Michael grew
silent. She could feel his eyes following her. She prayed he couldn’t read her
thoughts as they drifted back in time, the images traipsing through her mind
like an old home movie.

“We had it so good together, Annie,” he said
quietly.

She nodded ever so slightly, hearing his
sustained deep sigh.

“I was such a fool to leave you. You were
everything
to me. We were soul-mates, you and I. Nothing was ever complete unless it
included you.”

Out of her periphery, she could see him turn to
face her. “Remember that ancient little house we shared?”

She nodded again.

“Would you believe that little house was more of
a home than any other place I’ve ever lived? I have a three million dollar
estate outside of
Houston
. Most impersonal place I’ve
ever lived. Why? Because there’s not a trace of love in it. It’s just brick and
marble and paint and a lot of very expensive furniture. But our little house
back in
Stillwater
—remember
how tiny it was? We were
so
cramped living there. But we didn’t care.”

She smiled, lost in the memory. “I remember. The
closet was so small I made you keep all your clothes in that makeshift dresser
we picked up at the flea market. Ugliest piece of furniture ever made.”

He laughed. “It was dog ugly, wasn’t it? But I
remember how you fixed up that whole house. Real cozy and comfortable. It was
such a dump when we found it, but you transformed it into . . .
a home. Remember how our friends loved to hang out there? There was always
someone extra sleeping on the sofa or sharing a meal with us. They all loved
being there with us.”

She laughed, her elbow nudging his foot.
“Michael, they hung around because they liked to sponge off us. Free food and a
place to stay.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. No wonder we never
had any money. We fed the entire baseball team most of the time as I recall.
They
loved
your lasagna.”

She smiled. “I never make it now that I don’t
think of those guys. But you know something?” she mused. “I didn’t really mind.
They were like family to us.”

Michael leaned his head back. “Do you remember
the time we had that big party after we won the conference playoffs? I think it
was our junior year. All the guys and their girlfriends, all crammed into our
house? Remember when we woke up the next morning and Lance Palmer was sprawled
across the foot of our bed, sound asleep and snoring like a jackhammer—”

“—drooling all over our comforter! I was
so
mad at him!”

Michael laughed until the pain in his side
protested. Which made Annie laugh, which made
him
laugh even harder
until he winced with intense pain. She watched him until he finally caught his
breath and turned to face her again. Their eyes met for a moment that seemed to
stand still. Embarrassed by the intimacy of their shared memory, she looked
away.

“Annie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you
uncomfortable.” He paused, pulling up the quilts over his shoulders. He laid
his head back once more and shut his eyes. “Maybe it’s because I’m living such
a nightmare now. I watched my perfect life just vaporize before my eyes. It’s
gone. All of it. Gone.” He continued, his voice husky. “All of a sudden, I find
myself fighting for my life.”

He opened his eyes, turning to her with unmasked
honesty. “And I’m scared. I have nothing left. Do you realize that?
Nothing.
My marriage—what there was of it—is over. My company is gone, my career is
ruined. And unless a miracle comes along pretty soon, I’m a dead man.”

Annie studied his face, captivated by the fear
she found there. In all their years together, never had she ever seen Michael
Dean afraid. Not once.

“Look, maybe I’m just asking for a little kindness,”
he pleaded. “A few moments to forget the nightmare and remember a better time.
Is that so much to ask?”

Hearing the steady rhythm of his breathing,
Annie felt suddenly tired, her mind weary from the swirl of thoughts and
feelings and uncertainty. Still shivering, she dug down deeper into the
blankets and rested her head against the back of the sofa. Despite her fatigue,
an unwelcome struggle raged inside her. Somewhere, a fleeting wave of urgency
beckoned. Was it caution?

Be careful. Be on your guard.

Another swarm of thoughts countered an attack.
He
just needs a friend. He’s right, you know. It’s not so much to ask, is it? Just
let go of all those problems you’ve been worried and obsessed about. He’s just
an old friend who needs you . . . he needs
you . . .

Slowly, she reached out her hand toward his. She
felt him wrap his hand around hers, gently taking it back under the covers to
stay warm against his leg. He squeezed her hand, the strength of his grasp so
familiar, sending a soothing warmth through her. She let her head fall to the
side so she could watch him, the ticking of the clock matching the beating of
her heart.

He exhaled, his eyes closing again. “There has
to be a reason, Annie,” he whispered. “After all these years, we found each
other. It can’t be chance. Can’t be.” He sighed again before the restful
pattern of his breathing resumed.