A Good Excuse To Be Bad (15 page)

 

N
ewsflash. My midday shower didn't wash the spunk back into my spirit like Mom said. But I knew what would. I pulled my shower blinds up and peered through the window. Sugar Hill Community Church and Justus. That's how I found Sugar Hill—looking past the Duluth skyline toward the possibility of something greater. Devon deserved a better death than what he got. Hopefully, I could give him a better homegoing, if I got Ava freed in time.

The rain disappeared soft and slippery into periwinkle-perfected sky. A brighter, crisp blue day stood behind the morning's veil. And I watched the world transform all around me. But as peaceful as it looked, I felt my own peace slipping away.

While in the shower, I looked a mile straight down our backyard toward Sugar Hill Community Church. It stood white, compact, traditional; safe and solid; small, but a place of solace. I saw my new friend Justus standing at the top of the church steps, waving at the joggers and looking toward my house. If I looked at him any longer, I would have to take another shower—an iceberg cold one. I couldn't. I had to get the kids out the house in half an hour.

Yet to say that I had a crush on him would be an understatement. This past Sunday he proposed to the congregation that we have a fast, to put a protective covering over London, as it mourned over those lost in last week's bombing attack. We could choose anything to fast, but he preferred we fast from something that had some power over us: chocolate, soap operas, cigarettes, etc. My fast was going to be to stay as far away from him as possible.

I'd failed twice so far, and now with this Ava/sidekick thing, I might as well call this fast a bust. I needed some spiritual guidance, and with Ava's drama stretching into my home, I had no choice but to bop over to the church. At least Bella would get more “soldier-chicken-airplane” swimming lessons in the church pool.

I put the shower back on. Alaska cold this time.

Someone knocked on the door.

Mom. I could feel her spirit sliding inside the room. If I were my great-grandmother, I'd have sworn Mom had about seven other spirits tagging along with her.

“There's another bathroom in Bella's room.” I spoke through my shower curtain with my back to her, the shower running, but me not under it. I wanted to look outside at Justus a little while longer.

She said something weird.

Couldn't make sense of it. I turned the shower spout off. “Huh?”

She mumbled something again.

I slid the shower curtains back and looked at her. “What did you say?”

“Do you think your sister killed my son-in-law?”

Looks like it.
“No.”

“Has anyone told the children?” She opened my medicine cabinet, more than likely rummaging around my cosmetics container for makeup to try.

“I don't know how to, Mom.”

“Good. Avalyn can tell them herself once she's out. Meanwhile, we'll give them a parade, take them all over town. It'll keep them off thinking about their momma and daddy.”

“You and Whitney will have to do that. I decided to help my stepfather prepare for Detective Tinsley's visit and I have some work to do.” Wouldn't dare tell her that Ava might not get out today.

“So you're going to stick your nose in the fire again?”

I huffed. Here we go. “Mom, please . . .”

“No, thank God for you.” She paused and sniffled. “You never should have stopped writing for that newspaper.”

“I have my own business now.”

“Girl, please. I don't know how long this little charade of yours will last. Bella needs to see you at your best, not see you laid up in some hospital after chasing thugs and the bad element. You need to be like Anderson Cooper, honey. All over the place, seeing the world for what it is.”

“Mom, my work pays well and I see the world I want to see.”

“I'm sure it does, but, honey, you were born nosy and with your ear to the ground. You can't sniff around on a computer all day, and hunting down men who aren't meant to be fathers is a waste of your good time. You have to be right in the middle of it.” Mom sniffed one of my colognes, then turned her nose up. “So what do you think the detective wants with the kids?”

I stepped back. “They were the last ones to see Devon alive. If I were investigating—a hypothetical if—I would search my house to see if Ava left anything damaging and talk to the kids, because they have no reason to lie. The lead guy is good. His name is Salvador.”

“Who cares what his name is?”

I shrugged. “I don't know.”

“But what if you ask the kids before he gets here? Why don't you ask them? No.” She hit the shower curtain. “I'll ask them myself, while you get dressed. But while you're at the church this afternoon, could you ask your pastor if he could come over tomorrow and make some more pancakes?”

And there went the last bit of peace I clung to. I slid the covers back, of course, not worried about standing naked before my mother. “What did Whitney tell you?”

She didn't look at me, but I knew she wore that all-knowing smirk on her lips. “Not much outside of the fact that your pastor should be my son-in-law. Mind if have this lipstick? It looks divine on me.”

I shut the shower curtains; I wanted to shut her out.

 

 

“You're beautiful . . .” Justus said those words to me, sweet and perfect, like good loving on Sunday morning.

My knees shook, which wasn't good since I carried a three-pound box in my arms, my case file. I exhaled.

I placed the box on the end table closest to the door, then ran my hand down my straightened hair. Mom insisted I use a blow dryer and flat iron today. In my opinion, now was not the time for hour-long beauty regimens, but as I looked at Justus beaming over me, I changed my mind.

He stood up from behind his desk and walked toward me. He stopped a pace in front of me, extending his arms, wide and inviting. I folded into him. “. . . and you're late.”

Way to kill a mood.

I sighed and gave him a Sunday school hug, the kind where neither of us touched below the shoulder.

“I've been thinking about you since I left,” Justus said. “I need to apologize to you. Forgive me for acting like an eight-year-old boy earlier. Guess I was tired after all.”

I took his thinking-about-me line and obsessed over it until my stomach churned. “I wasn't exactly myself either. It's amazing what two hours of sleep can do.”

He came closer. “No more butting heads. Deal?”

I touched the tiny knot on my forehead, nodded, and then he came closer. My breath flew out my lungs. My wobbly knees staggered forward and obliged. We hugged. This time we hugged like kindergartners. He smelled so good and his hold of me could put me to sleep right now. But I hadn't come here to relax.

“Justus, let me go,” I mumbled.

He released me slow, looked down at me, and melted me some more. “My bad. I got a little carried away again. Didn't I?” He smiled.

“You do have a problem with giving off mixed signals.”

“Oh, I thought I was quite obvious about my concern for you,” he said.

I shook my head. What in the world was I going to do about this man?

Men and I didn't mix well when romance was involved. Men and I didn't mix at all when my investigating cap came on. Justus and I had a definite thing developing and I didn't want to slow down the buildup. More importantly, I didn't want to lose my new best friend. I needed him.

“I can't answer that question, only you can.” I stepped away. “But I know you have a meeting this morning, I was just stopping by to tell you that my mom is here now and ...”

“She finally made it.” His eyes twinkled.

“Yes, she's at home waiting for me. Whitney's here with the kids. They'll be at the pool for a while. Salvador's coming.”

“Coming to the church to swim?” Justus asked.

“No, to my house. He'll bring a warrant to search it for clues. He also wants to speak with my niece and nephew, but Mom's handling the latter.”

He rubbed his head. “I knew I should have canceled this meeting this morning.”

“No, you did the right thing. I can handle Salvador. He's a sweetheart.”

“Didn't seem like that to me last night, and it definitely doesn't sound like that now.”

“I didn't sense that from him.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“What?” I shrugged.

“How do you know Detective Tinsley's on his way here?”

“Salvador stopped by my house and told me he would be coming.”

Justus folded his arms over his chest. “When?”

“A few minutes after you left.”

“What a coincidence.” He chuckled and shook his head. “That man is going to charm your sister's conviction out of you so fast. You know what?” He walked back toward his desk. “I'm canceling the meeting. I'm coming with you.”

“No, you aren't.”

He frowned. “Are you trying to tell me what to do?”

“No, I'm not.” I pointed my index finger upward. “But He'll agree with me. Handle the church business, and let me handle mine.”

He pouted. “I'll be there first thing after the meeting.”

I nodded. “Yes, of course, Pastor.”

“I flip a few flapjacks and now we're back to you calling me pastor?”

“No, just keeping the lines drawn.”

He unfolded his arms and walked back to his desk. “I take one step forward and you push me two steps back.”

“I'm sorry. I know you mean well. I'm just not used to it.”

“You have a lot of people depending on you right now. Why don't you allow Christ to take some of that burden from you? The church and I are here to do that. Stop making things so complicated. Get used to me looking out for you.”

I should have known he wasn't flirting with me. I wanted to kick myself for once again being selfish and thinking about myself instead of what's best for the family. Why did I continue to think this man wanted me? I needed to get focused about today. The world was falling apart and my sister expected me to piece it back together for her kids.

“I'm sorry. I won't let my pride interfere again.”

“No, you will.” He smiled. “But I hope you hand it over every now and then, and let the experts handle Ms. Pride.”

“Okay.” I looked around the room. I didn't feel comfortable enough to ask for help.

“So what's today's meeting about?”

“It's about our fasting project. It seems that other churches would like to participate with us. We are meeting with the heads from those churches. Isn't God good?”

“Very.”

“Now that you're comfortable talking to me, are you participating in the fast?”

No sense in lying in church. “I was fasting, but after what happened yesterday, I just can't seem to meet my goal.”

“Hmmm. I didn't see your name on the fast commitment roster.”

“I didn't think I needed to put my commitment on display.”

He sat down. “The only person who would've seen it was me.”

Exactly. “I didn't know you well enough then.” My cheeks were burning now, and if I kept this up, so would my soul. I sat down in a chair in front of his desk.

He looked out his window toward the church's water park. “So how confident are you with Bella's swimming skills?”

“She's not good yet. This is her second set. Why?”

“I remember overhearing how anxious you were when she began taking swim classes and how you didn't feel that Craig Foster was old enough to train children.”

“Have you been stalking me?” I asked.

“No, nothing like that. But you must admit, before the events of the past week, you were a mystery here. You sit on the last pew. You're the first to leave service. The only time we see you at length is when Bella participates in an activity or when you're at the Ladies' Communion and Brunch.”

“I've caused so much drama in church in the past, I just don't want to bring down any more unnecessary attention, especially the kind that could harm Bella. I keep to myself and lay low. So far, so good.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but you must know that you command a great deal of attention around here, even though you don't try.” He cleared his throat. “Any man would spot you from a mile away.”

“They would? I do?”

He grinned. “You know you do.”

Awkward silence from me. I lifted myself from the seat so I could peek at the kids through the window behind him. “Whitney is at the pool with the kids. She has lifeguard training, so I feel confident.”

“I didn't know that.” He turned back to me, then observed the clock on the wall above my head. “So what did your mother say that brought you over here?”

I pressed my hair down again, then moved closer to his desk.
Please don't mention the pancakes,
I told myself.

His PDA buzzed. He looked down, then tugged one twist of his hair. “My meeting. Can we table this discussion for dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Yes.” He stood up again. “The church is going to provide dinner and a prayer meeting for your family tonight if that's okay with the family, unless Greater Atlanta is coming. Are they?”