A Promise to Remember (17 page)

Sunday night, Christi Baur stood waving down the driveway to
her departing guests. She continued to watch until the car was
out of sight. She turned to Scott. "Nice seeing your brother and
his family again."

She didn't have to speak the rest of the thought, but she knew
he understood it was even nicer to see them leave. She loved
them dearly, but they-and those kids!-were such a mess. You
could teach an eighteen-month-old to drink without spilling and
eat without grinding Goldfish into the Persian carpet. Christi
knew. She'd done it. Three times.

Scott started toward the house. "I really need to go in to the
office for a little while."

"On a Sunday night? Are you going to help Sam?"

"Christi, you know how important it is that I not get overly
involved in that case. Blair Phelps has been a good friend and
member of the same social clubs for years. I'm doing everything
I can to help, but I can't put myself in the middle of it."

Christi folded her arms across her chest as her husband
walked away. "Well, Andie Phelps has been a good friend and
member of the same social clubs as me for years, and I have to
put myself in the middle of it. That's what friends do."

Scott held open the back door. Christi walked through, fuming. The post-in-law house scouring would take days. The phone
rang, but someone else could get it.

Kelly stuck her head into the kitchen. "Mom, call for you.
Something-or-other Burridge."

Christi smiled at her sixteen-year-old daughter, happy that
something was going right tonight. She reached for the kitchen
phone. "Hang up the extension please, Kel."

Scott appeared at the door, scowling.

She ignored him. "Hello?" The news that followed brought
pure joy. She set the phone on the counter and rushed to the
nearest computer.

"Christi, why is a private investigator calling you?" His voice
at her back shocked her. She hadn't heard him follow her into
the family room.

"Told you, Andie's my friend. I'm going to do what I can to
help her."

"You were behind that other story, weren't you? You and your
investigator."

Christi shrugged, but couldn't keep the pleased smile off
her face. "Maybe."

"Let her lawyers deal with this."

"Lawyers deal with law and trials; I'm dealing with protecting
Andie. If that requires doing a little investigation on my own,
then that's what I'm going to do."

She opened Outlook on her computer and scanned the list
of e-mails.

There.

She double-clicked on the attachment. The screen glowed with
the promise of new hope. She couldn't have been happier.

Scott leaned over her shoulders and stared at the screen,
then glared at Christi. "I hope you're not planning to do what
I think you're planning to do."

"The Santa Barbara court of public opinion deserves to know
what kind of woman Ms. Melanie Johnston really is. Definitely not the grieving little mother she'd have everyone believe." She
smiled. "Quite a bike."

"Those pictures prove nothing and could very well bring a
libel suit if you take them to your friend at the newspaper."

Christi leaned back and smiled sweetly at her husband. "Of
course I'm not going to take them to my friend at the newspaper.
Mr. Burridge is e-mailing them-anonymously, of course. I'm
not connected in any way."

"Christi, this is fighting dirty."

"That woman threw the first chunk of mud. I'm just making
certain she gets what's coming to her."

"You are making a mistake, and by the time you realize it,
you will have destroyed everyone in your path." Scott stormed
from the room.

"Then stay out of my path!"

Scott slammed the door. His tires soon screeched in the
driveway. Good riddance.

Now, hack to the more pressing problem. Where had she
left that old toothbrush? Time to scrub away all reminders of
her previous guests.

Monday morning dawned dark and rainy. The weather was
appropriate.

Jake looked at the pictures on his office wall. Did he imagine
it, or did Jeff's eyes accuse him? He walked over to the wall.
"I'm so sorry. I wanted to help her, to be there for her. Now I've
made things worse."

He could still hear Jeff's voice, repeating as it had so many
times over the years. "Please keep praying for my mom. She
really needs Christ's love. Pray that she sees it in my life."

Jake slunk back to his seat, then looked toward the ceiling.
"Why, God? It was such an innocent thing. Why would you let
it get turned into this ugliness?"

Well, he needed to call her before she left for work. Best to
get to it. He picked up the phone and punched in her number.
Would she speak to him? Slam the phone down?

Melanie answered on the third ring.

"Hi. It's Jake."

"Well, if it's not the `mystery man.'"

"I felt awful when I saw that in the paper today." He looked
toward the offending article again. It showed Melanie standing
beside him, looking at the new custom bike. A honky-tonk was visible in the background. The headline read, "Still up to her
partying ways?"

She didn't answer for five full seconds. "It's not your fault."

"I know, but I really enjoyed talking to you like that. I felt
good that you could open up to me, like I was actually helping
in some small way."

Silence. Jake heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "You did
help." Did her voice sound choked or was it poor reception?

An uncomfortable silence settled in. Jake wanted to say
so many things, to ask so many questions, but none seemed
appropriate. He knew he couldn't push her. She could build
walls faster than he could climb them.

"I've got to go."

The line went dead before Jake could respond. He stared at
the receiver in his hand and shook his head. Now what?

He set the phone back in the cradle and laced his fingers
behind his head. Jeff would want him to do everything in his
power to help her, wouldn't he? The fact that she was a vulnerable woman in need of help troubled him. A vulnerable woman
and a lonely man often made for a bad combination. He needed
to he careful.

Lonely man, Where did that thought come from, He wasn't
lonely. Was he? For a short moment he tried to convince himself
that he wasn't, but those arguments were hollow. He was lonely
and Melanie was intriguing. But he couldn't allow himself to
think about that.

Back to the thought at hand. What could he do to help her,
The newspaper articles were making certain that not one shred
of her dignity remained intact.

Then he remembered the kid from youth group three or four
years ago. What was his name? Started with an R. Let's see,
Robert? No. Randy. Randy Peterson. That was it.

His father was a reporter for the paper. Randy had gone
back east to college, but Jake was pretty certain his parents still
attended the church.

He flipped through the phone book until he found the NewsPress phone number. "John Peterson's desk, please."

Friday morning, Melanie went to work early. She felt a renewed
sense of satisfaction since Les let her know the good news
about the sustainment yesterday. The case was finally starting
to move along. She placed the price-break sign in front of the
bran cereal, then moved toward the Toasty O's.

"Melanie, could I see you in the back office, please?" Mr.
Mortensen stood behind her, his eyes averted.

"Sure." She gathered up the rest of her signs and followed
him down the cereal aisle. What sort of bad news was coming? Whatever it was, she could take it. The case was moving
forward, and nothing would get her down.

He walked behind his desk, but instead of sitting, he leaned
across it, putting his weight on his hands. "Melanie, there are
some problems that have arisen from all this. You know that."

He sighed heavily and dropped into his seat. With his left
hand he indicated that she should do the same. "I called you
in here to give you a choice."

"A choice?"

"I'm sure you remember at the last meeting we discussed the
fact that layoffs were a possibility"

Her throat felt scratchy. "Yes."

"I got a call from the home office last night. They want the
financial hemorrhage at this store to stop. Now."

Now? "What choice?"

"I can either lay off eight people, effective Monday, or you can
transfer to our Thousand Oaks store." His face had gone pale. Melanie knew he hated having to do this. Even if he loathed
it, that still didn't make it right.

"Thousand Oaks? That's over an hour each way from Santa
Barbara, and more in commuter traffic."

"It's the only store nearby with an opening for a pricing coordinator. You are guaranteed the position, and it would mean
a slight raise to help offset relocating expenses."

"I can't relocate. That's not a choice for me."

Mr. Mortensen looked at her. "Why not? Thousand Oaks is
a nice community."

"I won't do that to Sarah. She needs to be among friends."
And she couldn't even think of leaving Jeff.

"I see. Well, then you have the weekend to decide whether
you're willing to commute. If you choose to stay, I'll have to
call the department managers tonight and tell them to prepare
pink slips."

Melanie stood. "That young man took my son from me, and
now his family is trying to get rid of me, as well. I've paid a price
for what I'm doing, and I'm willing to continue to pay until justice has been done. The thing I'm not willing to do is to let any
others pay, too. Jeff did that already. I'll take the transfer."

Mr. Mortensen nodded his head, his face grim. "I wish there
was something I could do to change this. You've been a great
employee. A great leader."

Melanie nodded and walked out of the office, choking on
held-back tears.

Joe Server was putting his things in a locker when she walked
through the back room. "Hey, Melanie, where you going?'

I just found out I have the day off."

The scratching of pen across paper provided the only sound in
the cemetery. Even the wind remained still and silent todaynature's own show of respect at the great loss.

Do you remember when you had your tonsils out? She paused,
wishing for the response that would never come. You were terrified about being put to sleep. Remember? She could still feel the
tight grip of his hand in hers. I promised you I wouldn't leave. I
promised I'd never leave you alone. Remember?

She glanced across the lawn at the emptiness around her. I
keep my promises.

She put the cap on her pen. "There. I think that's enough
writing for one day, don't you, Jeff?" She stared at the silent
ground, now completely blended with the rest of the area. "It
says mostly the same thing every day. My son is gone. I can't
comfort him...." She stopped speaking before she continued
with the rest of what was in her heart-it's too much to bear.

She never spoke of her own grief to Jeff. A mother kept her own
pain hidden from her children. They needed her strength.