A Promise to Remember (39 page)

He did not look happy. "Mrs. Johnston has to do what she
thinks is right."

"So you don't agree with her decision?"

"In my opinion, it's a mistake. But it's a mistake she has the
right to make." He glanced at her, then back at the camera. "No
further comments."

Blair let out a whoop behind her. Blair, whooping? That had
to be a first. He pulled Andie into his arms and swung her
around in circles. "Can you believe it? One major worry gone,
just like that."

What just happened? She looked at Blair. "Okay, in exactly
what way did you apologize?"

He shook his head. "That wasn't because of something I did.
What I did was anonymous. She doesn't even know about it."

"Then why is she doing this?"

"I think it's obvious. You. You did the right thing, the thing
we should have done from the very beginning. God honored
that, and obviously so did she."

Andie let herself smile, but instantly the phone rang and she
knew this one beautiful moment was a dream. The woman had
changed her mind; it had all been a mistake. But instead it was
Sam calling back with congratulations. And then the Baurs.
And all afternoon the phone rang and rang and rang, and she
never stopped smiling.

Jake sat at the desk in his office, Bible opened on the desk before
him but his mind somewhere else. So many things had happened
today he found it difficult to concentrate on his reading. He
finally gave up, looked toward the ceiling, and said the thing he
felt deepest in his heart at the moment: "Thank you, God."

Behind him, the door to the garage rattled. He approached
it, wary. Who'd be out on Easter at an hour like this except
someone looking for trouble? He peeked through the security
hole, then threw the door open.

"Melanie. Come in." He held the door for her, then locked
it behind them. "I was just in my office, thinking. Care to sit
awhile?"

"Sure." She seemed more ill at ease than he could ever
remember.

He thought he could help by breaking the ice. "I saw the news
this afternoon. That was an incredible thing you did."

She looked at him, her eyes pleading. "Was it the right
thing?"

"What does your heart tell you?"

"Listening to those kids yesterday, Tony in particular, I realized I was doing something in Jeff's name he would never have
done himself. His legacy, if that's what you want to call it, was
kindness. And forgiveness. That's what would honor him most,
by acting in a way that he would have me act."

"Then it sounds like you did the right thing."

She stared at the ceiling. "I ... I came here to apologize. To
you." She dropped her gaze level with Jake's. "I was out of line. I
know you did what you thought was best for your kids. Probably
was. Who knows? But it's not my place to say. I shouldn't have
jumped on you like that." She paused. "Forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive. Some of what you said was true. I've been
doing some checking, seeing if I can track them down."

"Well, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'd better get back home,
I've got to work tomorrow."

"You never stick around here very long, do you?" Jake joked.
"Say, you want to deliver a little good news to Sarah when you
get there?"

She looked surprised. "Sure. What?"

"The mission trip is back on."

Her face lit up. "You're kidding. How?"

"We got the funding we needed this afternoon."

"Are you telling me that within three hours of my announcement, the money has already come in?"

"No. I'm telling you that one hour before your announcement,
it came in." He hesitated, not sure if he should give her all the
details. But he felt God's nudge, so he continued. "I got a visit
this afternoon from Blair Phelps. He had one of those yellow
flyers in his hands. He asked me if your kid was scheduled to
go, and said he'd like to pay the remainder needed for the whole
group. Any idea where he got that flyer?"

Melanie looked away. "Yeah. I've got an idea." She didn't
elaborate.

"Anyway, he wanted it to be strictly anonymous. I'm not sure
why I told you just now. I probably shouldn't have, but somehow
it seemed important."

"And you're telling me he did this before the news
conference?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "Incredible." She stood to go. "Sarah
will be thrilled when she gets home."

Jake didn't want to watch her walk away. He couldn't stand
the thought. "Where is she now?"

"At the Pizza Palace with some kids from church."

"Why don't we go tell them? Together. You can ride on the
back of my bike."

"Well, I ..." She squirmed and looked over her shoulder.
When she turned back around, her eyes gleamed. "I haven't
been on the back of a bike in fifteen years. I'd say it's high time
I did it again. Wouldn't you?"

"Absolutely."

Christi pushed through Andie's back door. "Andie? Where are
you?"

"Back here, in the studio."

Nice. Things were looking up around here. Christi averted her
gaze as she walked through the kitchen. If I dont see the mess,
it won't bother me. She made it to the studio without stopping.
"How are you?"

Andie stood at the back wall, straightening a white cloth over
a small canvas. "Relieved."

"I'll bet." Christi looked toward the covered square. Odd.
What was Andie hiding? She walked up to the much larger
painting on the easel, a squalid village scene. "South Africa?"

"Yeah. I've been looking through some of NIattie's pictures. I
thought somehow she might be able to use these."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled." She glanced again toward the
white cloth. "So things look a little brighter today, huh?"

Andie nodded. "I honestly do not know how to act. Things
had been going downhill so long."

"Sounds like Melanie Johnston still has a little further to
drop. Scott told me that her lawyer is going to bill her for his time. Rumor is he bankrupted another client for doing the very
same thing a few years ago."

Andie leaned forward, hands on her knees. "You're kidding
me. She's got to pay for absolving us?" She shook her head.
"That's not right." A softie to the end. Andie never would understand real life.

"That's the way it works."

"Not if I can help it."Andie paced to the wall and back, biting
her bottom lip. "What about that reporter friend of yours?"

"Who?"

"Oh, come on, Christi. You planted those stories, and I know
it. What if we plant one about Les Stewart? Remember how Los
Angeles magazine ran that glowing article about him? Practically
made him a saint."

Christi dropped onto a stool, leaned back, and crossed her
arms. She grinned from pure delight. "There's a pit bull buried
somewhere beneath your poodle exterior." She thought about
Andie's idea. Ingenious. "Maybe just the threat would be enough.
Let me make a call." She flipped open her cell phone, and as
she stepped from the room, Andie heard her say, "Mr. Burridge,
Christi Baur here. I'd like to offer you a little assignment." A
minute later she was back, a sly grin on her face. "Les Stewart
is about to get an anonymous phone call. The caller will tell him
that the LosAngeles Times is about to run its own profile, "Lawyer
With a Black Heart." That ought to make him think twice."

"Christi, you are brilliant. Evil through and through, but brilliant nonetheless."

Christi nodded. "Thank you very much. Now, what else were
you working on?" She looked pointedly at the back wall.

Andie shrugged and averted her eyes. "Nothing much."

With an answer like that, Christi had to look. She walked
across the room and lifted the cloth.

Words failed her.

She looked back at Andie, who sat staring at her hands. "I
couldn't get that face out of my mind. I thought if I painted it,
maybe it would stop haunting me."

"It's incredible. What are you planning to do with it?"

"Nothing. It's just something I needed to paint."

"You should give it to her."

"No. I ... couldn't face her again."

"Well, I could." Christi picked up the canvas and nodded
toward Andie. "Talk to you later."

Melanie barely managed to punch the button before the phone
slipped from her hands. She slid down the wall and landed on
the floor.

Sarah rushed across the kitchen and knelt before her. "Mom,
what's wrong?"

"That was Les Stewart."

Sarah scrunched up her face, her eyes flashing. "What did
the demon in Armani want this time?"

"He said he ... has reconsidered."

"Reconsidered what? How many millions you owe him?"

"Owing him, period. He's not going to back charge me after
all."

Sarah dropped to the floor. "What happened?"

The doorbell chimed and Sarah scrambled to her feet. "I'll
get it."

Melanie didn't move. What did happen?

"Is your mother here?"

Something about the voice at the door was vaguely familiar
... and vaguely unpleasant-though she couldn't quite put her
finger on the reason for either reaction. Melanie pushed to her
feet. When she rounded the corner, she understood. There,
standing at the door, was the woman who had yelled at her across State Street that day. She had something in her hand.
Melanie moved forward, prepared for whatever battle lay ahead.
"Can I help you?"

The woman looked her in the eye, full of confidence. "Mrs.
Johnston, I'm a friend ofAndie Phelps."

"Yes, I recognize you."

She didn't flinch. "I've just come from her house. Andie is ...
well, she painted something. I believe you should have it."

What was the catch here? "You believe, or she believes?"

The woman's expression never changed; her eyes didn't even
blink. "Both. It's just that she's a bit of a coward. I, however,
am not." She lifted her hand and presented a small painting
of Jeff.

The sunlight reflected on his face, and his eyes glowed from
what seemed an internal source. It was the image that had been
in all the papers. Melanie had selected it because it was exactly
the way Jeff had always looked.

As Melanie took the offered painting, she felt her throat
close. She would not lose control in front of this woman. "It's
amazing." She didn't trust her voice to say more.

"There are a lot of amazing things about Andie. This is only
one.

"Please send her my thanks."

The woman nodded, turned to leave, and then stopped. "What
you did, dropping the lawsuit ... I know that took a lot of guts."
She glanced over Melanie's shoulder. "I think your daughter is
one lucky young lady." She floated down the driveway, hopped
in a little red car, and sped away.