Cocoon (26 page)

“I can understand your apprehension,” Pastor addressed them both. “But I've listened to each of you airing your slant on – family.”

Zoe's gasp was audible as she rose to her feet. “I don't think I want to –”

“Please.” Pastor's hand reached out in entreaty. “Please sit down, Zoe. Hear me out. I promise not to embarrass either of you. But this situation must be addressed for the sake of family solidarity. Your mother needs that to get better.”

Dirty pool, thought Barth. Yet it warmed him.

Zoe reluctantly sank back into the chair, but quickly crossed her arms and legs in staunch defense mode.

Pastor Keith began relating how each of them had sought his counsel in recent days, avoiding anything that sniffed of betrayal on his part. “I needed to have you two together here for this session because, you see, you're both important to me. Zoe, may I speak openly with you?”

Zoe rolled her eyes and began to swing her foot in agitated movements. “You're going to, regardless of how I feel.”

“That's fair. But you're convinced that Barth is hiding something from you, aren't you?”

Zoe looked him squarely in the eye. “Absolutely.”

Pastor sighed and laced his hands together across his abdomen. “And, forgive me, Barth – but Zoe, you're correct in assuming that.”

Barth was on his feet. “I can't believe you would betray my confidence!”

Keith stood too but remained calm. “Barth, you ask too much of Zoe. Please … you're always the level head in the bunch. Always have been. Remember you taught ol' hothead me to hold my tongue and listen to the entire story before reacting? That concept changed my life. And I want to thank you for the lessons – some of them hard.” He grinned then and Barth took a deep cleansing breath and reseated himself stiffly into the chair.

Barth realized he'd been had by his old buddy. Keith had used Barth's own wiles to conquer. What could he say? It worked, by George.

But at the same time, his breath seemed to be cut short as he faced the moment of truth. “You're right, Keith. But I don't like it.”

“What's going on here?” Zoe demanded. “What don't I know?” Her eyes narrowed into slits as she turned them upon Barth. “What?”

Barth returned her gaze evenly. “I was very much in love with my first wife, Betty. We could never have children, which was a grief to her. To me, too. But when I told her it didn't make a difference to me, it was true. I loved her, with or without children. We could adopt or whatever.” He shrugged limply.

“But I think that's what played into what happened when I was working as music director at Kei – Pastor Keith's church in Nova Scotia that year. At the same time, I also worked for Postal Services – which now pays me a small pension.”

He looked at Zoe and smiled crookedly. “So I'm not quite destitute on my own.”

Zoe looked away but stopped swinging her foot.

“Anyway,” Barth continued, “my wife, Betty, became involved with a man at the church. A policeman. Handsome guy, divorced.” He shrugged tightly. “Hard to admit but he was quite winsome. At least, he got Betty's attention.”

Barth stopped and cleared his throat. Snuffled and took off his glasses and cleaned them as he attempted to blink back moisture. Zoe was watching from the corner of her eye. Barth felt her skepticism, but he had to finish this once he'd started.

He slid his glasses back on. “I didn't know about the affair until months later. Actually, not until she told me.” He shifted in his chair. “I never suspected. Trusted her with my life, I did. Literally.”

Barth cleared his throat again and snuffled.

“You're doing fine, Barth,” Keith gently urged him on and slid the Kleenex box within his reach.

Another snuffle. “Then one day Betty sat me down and told me she no longer loved me and that there was someone else.” He rolled his watery eyes upward and gave a dry huff. “She said she had to be honest with me and that she didn't want to hurt me.” Another dry laugh. “Hurt? She was
killing me.
”

Zoe shifted in her chair to look at him. “What did you say, Barth?”

He cut her a teary glance. “What could I say? I said I loved her with all my heart. I groveled, Zoe. I begged her like a dying man for water. But she – didn't love me anymore.” Tears now coursed down his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Hey.” Zoe's hand reached out to touch his. “It's okay to cry, Barth.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, snatching a Kleenex from the table, shaking his lowered head. Embarrassed beyond words. “I still have difficulty talking about this.”

“It's okay, Barth.” Keith spoke encouragingly. “You need to do this to heal. Now, tell the rest.”

Again, Barth felt Zoe stiffen and go on alert.

“She went on to marry George, her policeman. And from what I heard from church friends, they seemed to do okay at first.”

“How about you, Barth?” Zoe asked and Barth felt her antennae rise even higher.

“I forgave her. I prayed to be able to and God gave me the strength to – let go. It was as simple as that. Not easy. I won't lie. But I did it.”

“He's telling the truth, Zoe,” Pastor Keith inserted. “They remained friends.”

Barth resumed. “Oh, we didn't see each other much after the divorce, but then – a year or so after they married, when George began being emotionally abusive, Betty began calling me when she grew desperate.”

Zoe asked, “What would she say?”

“Oh – needing advice on how to handle his domineering ways.”

“What did you tell her?” Zoe now leaned toward him.

He shrugged and looked down at his tightly clasped hands in his lap. “I told her that she'd have to decide for herself. But that she didn't have to stay in a situation like that. See, Betty and I always respected one another. I never, ever dissed her for any reason. Never had reason to.” He shrugged. “She was a wonderful woman.”

Pastor Keith broke in then. “Move ahead, Barth. To her decision.”

Barth's head rolled back and he closed his eyes. “Betty, after a time, realized what a tragic mistake she'd made in ending our marriage. ‘I was such a stupid fool' she repeated over and over.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled, lolling his head forward. “She wanted me back.”

Zoe's eyes widened. “How did you handle that?”

“I loved her.” He shrugged. “I had no choice but to take her back. My heart rejoiced at the prospect of our reconciling.”

Zoe waited. “But?”

Barth felt like his blood began to drain out but he pushed on. “I told her she must tell George of her decision to reconcile and file for divorce. I wouldn't interfere until it was final and we could be remarried.”

Keith spoke up. “We had the wedding all worked out, Louann and I,” he said solemnly. “Down to the songs to be sung.”

“What happened?” Zoe demanded, clearly impatient to hear the outcome.

“Well,” Barth cleared his throat again and swallowed soundly. “She told George about us, and he wasn't happy about it, of course.” Barth grabbed another Kleenex and blew his nose.

“And?” Zoe prompted.

Barth looked at the wall and dragged in a deep breath. “Betty disappeared one night. George put out an APB on her, had the entire police force looking for her. She turned up days later in a pond a few miles away. She'd been shot through the head.”

Keith injected. “The police – mysteriously guided – seemed to think Barth had done it. And wanted to arrest him.”

“Why didn't they?” Zoe asked.

Keith again jumped in. “Because he had an airtight alibi. He was with us, Louann and me, at an out-of-town ministerial conference, doing the music, during the time forensic tests showed Betty's probable time of death. Weeks passed before all the results were in. They told the truth.”

“During that time,” Barth resumed, “seemed every time I turned around, I was confronted by PIs and police detectives, digging, digging, treating me like a criminal.”

“Remember here,” Keith inserted, “Barth was going to remarry this woman who was found murdered. He was a basket case, and that's putting it mildly.”

“Then who killed her? George?” Zoe asked.

Barth huffed angrily. “I knew from the beginning it was him. But seemed he had some hold over the investigation that –” He shrugged. “Anyway, I was finally cleared.”

Zoe sat back in her chair, mulling over everything.

“Did they ever find any other suspects?” she asked.

Keith sat forward, elbows on desk. “I got the news several months ago that George had become the number one suspect, finally. When it all began closing in on him, he simply locked himself in his house, wrote a suicide note, and used a .38 revolver to finish himself off.”

Zoe sighed. “The suicide note was a confession.”

“Yes.” Keith watched them both. “I tried to get Barth to update you on it then, but he got this aversion to talking about those times after he and Betty split.”

Zoe turned to him, disbelieving. “Why, Barth? The note cleared you. You could have trusted me to have a different perspective once I knew.”

“Yes, why, Barth?” Pastor Keith asked, seeming puzzled, too.

Barth looked at him, tears pooling again behind the thick lenses. “Because, had I not counseled Betty to be open with George about our wish to reconcile, she wouldn't have been killed. Don't you see? It was my fault she died.” He buried his face in his hands and wept openly while shaking his head in shame for doing so.

“Barth.” Zoe slipped from her chair and knelt before him. “Please don't – it wasn't your fault. That man was evil. She had to escape him. Don't you see? You were only doing what was right by her. You had no choice. Please don't cry.”

Zoe reached up to slide her arms around his shoulders and began to weep with him.

“I'm sorry, Barth,” she sobbed, “for all those times I was unkind to you. I d-didn't know.”

“I know,” he said, by now returning her embrace. “I know. I just want you to know that I love your mother with everything in me.” He leaned back to look at her as she arose to snatch a tissue from the ever-ready nearby box. “Keith and Louann begged me to move here and begin anew. I finally agreed.”

As Zoe sank back into her chair, blotting her eyes, Barth continued. “I thought I'd never be able to love again after Betty. But that night I saw Seana at Happy Feet Dance Studio, I fell head over heels. I'd always scoffed at the notion of love at first sight, but that made a true believer out of me.”

Zoe suddenly chuckled, and then burst into belly laughter.

“What?” both men said simultaneously, looking at her worriedly.

She finally got her breath. “Barth, I know you love my mama. Nobody else could put up with her!”

Like dominos, laughter erupted from her just as Barth's exploded.

Then Pastor's joined in.

The mirthful cacophony continued until Scott Burns, early for the 6:30 choir practice, stuck his head in the door.

“What's going on?” he asked, curiosity lighting up his gray eyes.

“Private joke,” Zoe croaked, wiping at her eyes, then burst into fresh laughter.

• • •

Later that evening after choir practice, Zoe slipped into a sweater. “Where you going, Mama?” Peyton called from the kitchen where he foraged through the fridge.

“To talk to Scott,” Zoe admitted.

“Great!” He poked his grinning face through the door. “Good guys don't grow on trees, ya know?”

“I know,” she muttered and slipped outside into the mild October air. Her courage began slipping, but she squared her shoulders as she approached Scott's apartment door.

She'd spent the past hour in her own duplex gathering nerve to come here. The last few steps from her door to his seemed endless.

With trepidation, she raised her fist and knocked softly. Her breath felt labored and her hands icy as, after a few moments, she rapped again, this time harder.

“Just a minute,” came Scott's deep voice as muffled footsteps grew near.

The door swung open.

“Zoe.” Her name spilled softly, breathily from his generous lips. She couldn't figure out if it was disappointment or awe. She prayed it was the latter.

“Hi, Scott. May I come in?” She attempted a tight smile.

He blinked and stepped back. “Sure, come in.” He scratched his head. “Excuse the mess.”

“It's not messy,” she replied. And it wasn't. A magazine lay on the floor next to his La-Z-Boy, and his milk glass still sat on the coffee table, but his neatness bled through.

Very courteously, Scott gestured toward a worn but comfortable easy chair. Zoe wished for the old easiness they'd once shared. She grieved over it in that heartbeat as she lowered herself into the chair.

Scott slid his hunky bulk into the upright La-Z-Boy. His thinned-down version still looked mighty good to Zoe in that moment, clad in low-rise, boot-cut jeans and school pullover.

“What's happening?” he ventured in his generic way of opening a conversation, crossing bare feet at the ankles and clasping hands across his slim abdomen.

Or, Zoe surmised, it could mean
what the heck are you doing here?

An unsettling thought.

“Well ….” Zoe suddenly felt like an actress who'd forgotten her lines. “Uh, I want to know what you've got against being nice to me. You know, hanging out with me sometimes?” She lifted her chin and tried to forget that her heart was tripping along at 120 mph and that she was drowning in oxygen.

He grew still, his features shrouded in mystique. “Hanging out? As in a purely social context or something more romantic?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Clarify, please, what you have in mind.”

“You're being obtuse, Scott.” Zoe's nostrils flared in effrontery.