Pastor's Assignment (4 page)

Eight

Ty didn't know which bothered him more—his failure to retrieve the note or his growing attraction to Laney. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Ty tailgated the car in front of him shamelessly until it changed lanes. As the traffic predictably slowed, he signaled, changed lanes, and accelerated. If he couldn't stop his thoughts, then maybe he could outrun them.

The car shifted with the promise of untapped power. He scowled as he passed a car with a bumper sticker: “A vote for G. C. Varner is a vote for family values.”

Ty didn't need to be a professional politician to know this new campaign strategy was trouble for him. As if he didn't have enough to worry about with the threat of Laney going public with a note he didn't write.

If he only knew what the note said, he wouldn't worry so much about it, he thought, or obsess so much about Laney.

She continuously popped into his thoughts, disturbed his sleep, and distracted his focus. He couldn't think of a worse time to have a woman on his mind or a worse woman to have on his mind.

Here he was on his way to a pet shop. Worst of all, he actually looked forward to seeing her again. Suddenly he heard a muffled popping noise and felt a slight pull on the steering wheel. Rolling down the window he slowed and listened. Ty heard the clink, barely audible but undeniable, coming from the left rear tire. He had a flat.

Muttering, he eased the car to the shoulder of the road. He saw the Destiny High School lot and pulled in.

Wondering what he'd run over, he rolled up the window, radioed in his position to dispatch, and cut the engine.

At this time in the morning, the lot was filled with cars. A quick scan showed him Beemers, Jeeps, Camaros, a Firebird, Explorers, and even the car of his boyhood dreams—a shiny red Mazda RX-7.

Rolling up his sleeves, Ty popped the trunk. As he put the jack under the car, he found his thoughts returning to Laney.

Could she be as innocent as she seemed? Although he'd accused her of bad acting, the truth was that if she were lying, she deserved an Academy Award.

Sticking the jack beneath the car, Ty raised the vehicle off the pavement. It cocked its flat tire at him as if it were an injured hipbone. Ty wiped his face and reached for the lug nuts.

Since Anna Mae had left him at the altar two years ago, Ty hadn't dated much. He hadn't had the energy or desire to get to know someone well enough to start a relationship. The way he saw it, a man either learned from his mistakes or repeated them. He'd learned.

He'd never forget coming home from the wedding and walking into an empty house. While he'd been waiting to make his vows, she'd been making off with the gifts and furniture.

He pulled the flat tire off the car and tipped it onto the hot cement. Wiping the grease off his hands onto a rag, he looked at his fingers. His knuckles were large, the center one slightly crooked. These were the hands of a policeman—cool, steady.

These same hands weren't so steady around Laney Varner. In fact, every time he was near her, he had the urge to hold her hand. More than that, he wanted to curl a strand of her hair around his finger and see if it was as soft as it looked.

He didn't have a category for someone who looked as fragile as a flower yet held a black belt in karate, who seemed to stumble through life yet held out her hand to help others. Namely him. She made him laugh, she made him paranoid, and she made him wish he'd chosen another spot to have his picnic lunch that day. She also made him glad he hadn't.

A small group of students trickled into the parking lot. He watched all six squeeze into a red compact car. Their clothing nearly brought a smile to his lips. The urge faded when he thought of his brother, Mickey, who had been a math teacher.

He wiped his face. Returning his tools to the trunk, he gave into the urge to lift his face to the sun. For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring the whisper of a breeze that cooled the sweat on his brow. In his mind, he could almost see Mickey leaning up against a tree, grinning at him from behind his sunglasses.

Mickey led him into trouble, urging the release of the laboratory frogs, urging him to cut class and go fishing with him. He also had been a terrific mimic, able to imitate authority figures with ease and wit. Their Sunday school teacher, Mr. Jones, had caught him once. He and Mickey had spent the morning copying Bible verses as a result. Later, on the hill behind the church, they had rolled in the tall sweet grass, laughing until their ribs hurt.

Ty saw his brother in every teacher who walked through the double doors of a school, heard his voice in the dull roar of students moving in the hallway between classes. Mickey always seemed a ghostlike presence hovering at the edge of his sight.

Ty opened his eyes. He knew he wouldn't find his brother at this school or any other. Yet when he looked up to see a hawk circling in the clear blue sky, he couldn't help but imagine Mickey's spirit soaring free, just like the hawk.

If heaven was real, Mickey would be there. Ty wasn't so sure he'd make it there himself. He and God weren't exactly on speaking terms. Hadn't been for quite awhile.

Ty followed the hawk until it soared out of sight. He found himself in a small courtyard. There were five round cement tables with curved benches for sitting. In the center of the area stood a statue of a boy releasing a dove into the air.

Mickey would have looked at the statue and thought up a good prank. He would have dressed the boy in a tuxedo during prom season or put long ears on it for Easter.

Ty considered leaving a note for his brother in the hands of the statue. It was a crazy impulse, yet it seemed right, like putting flowers on a grave. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small notepad. What should he say? He tapped the pencil on the paper.
Say something,
he ordered himself.
You and Mickey used to do this all the time.

And then he had the awful thought that if Laney could see him now, pencil and notebook in hand, he would never convince her he hadn't written the note she'd found.

He thrust the pad into his back pocket. The pencil slipped from within the pages and landed with a small noise on the ground.

Squatting, Ty reached for the pencil. As his fingers closed around it, deep lines drawn into the gravel caught his attention. On further inspection, it proved to be a series of numbers. Odder and even more disturbing, they appeared within the drawn outline of a bullet. A chill went down his back.

He had a terrible sense of déjà vu. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if fate was playing a cruel joke on him. But when he opened them, the drawing was still there, larger and more unmistakable than ever.

Was history repeating itself? Ty needed to get to the station to try to convince G. C. to take a more aggressive approach to school security. He had no time to go to Laney's shop and retrieve the note. No time for any more cat-and-mouse games with her. This time he wouldn't let anyone down.

Nine

Laney cleared the desk in the back room of her store in preparation for Ty's visit.

She neatly arranged a thermos of coffee, a plate of sandwiches, and a variety of pet-care books across the top. Although she was pretty sure a pair of female guinea pigs would be the best pets for Ty, she wanted him to make an informed choice for himself. Thus the reading materials.

She had books on rabbits, mice, gerbils, ferrets, birds, and fish. Ty could sip his coffee and leisurely browse through the books in private. When he was ready, he could call her back to the office, and she'd bring him whatever animal he chose.

Yawning, she checked the display one more time. She'd spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning and wondering why the hands of the clock moved so slowly. As she'd lain there, no matter how hard she tried to sleep, her thoughts had returned to Ty. She wanted to know more about him, to understand what had happened to his brother, and to unravel the mystery of his past.

Sinking onto the seat, she laid her cheek on the desk. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the big detective holding a guinea pig. She nearly laughed. He'd probably hold it as far away from him as possible, as if it were some bomb that might go off any minute.

“You want me to take care of this tail-less rat?” he'd say. Oh, he would fight her every step of the way. But in the end, Laney knew he'd give in. He might look tough on the outside, but she had read his note. His heart was pure gold.

Distantly, as if in a dream, she heard the jingle of the front door and knew he had come. “I'm in the back,” she called.

She heard the sound of boxes moving as he maneuvered through the cluttered room.

“Laney?” a man said.

Laney turned. Her eyes widened in shock. In front of her, smiling with determined kindness, was Pastor Bruce Burke.

“Pastor Bruce,” Laney managed. “Wow! This is a surprise.”

Pastor Bruce bent over, revealing the purple birthmark on the top of his nearly balding head.

“May I sit down?”

Laney motioned to a chair. “Of course.”

“You aren't meeting Rock, are you?”

Laney swallowed. She ran her fingers through her hair and wondered why police bothered with lie detector tests when all they had to do was put Pastor Bruce in a room. “Actually I was meeting a friend who is going through a hard time right now.”

The smile faded from Pastor Bruce's face. His brow furrowed in concern. “I don't like to pry, but is everything all right with you and Rock?”

Laney blinked. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Why would you think otherwise?”

The senior pastor shrugged. “There have been signs,” he said.

“Signs?” Laney repeated faintly. “Letting Mother Tilly eat the gerbil food was an accident. She thought it was granola.”

The pastor chuckled. “That's a good one,” he said. “Gerbil food and granola. I'll have to use it in a sermon sometime.”

Laney hugged herself hard. She could imagine her mother-in-law's hair standing on end at the thought.

Pastor Bruce stroked his chin. “You were seen at Miguel's spying on your mother-in-law.” He drew a long breath. “And now half the women in our church are praying for you, although no one is quite sure why.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I can explain.” But could she?

“The minute I graded your premarital exam, I knew there were problems,” Pastor Bruce continued.

“Have a cookie,” Laney said, because short of confessing everything, she couldn't think of much else to say. She ripped open a bag of carob-chip cookies.

Pastor Bruce broke off a small piece. “I planned to wait until this coming Sunday for your next premarital workshop session, but I'll just tell you right now.”

“Tell me what?”

“The premarital exam you and Rock took last week. . .” The pastor absently pushed the books on the table. When he looked up, his round face looked truly apologetic. “You failed.”

“We failed?” Laney hadn't known it was possible.

Pastor Bruce nodded sadly. “You scored a perfect zero. In all my years of counseling engaged couples, I've never seen any couple score so low.”

What was Pastor Bruce talking about? Everyone who saw them together said they made a perfect couple. Rock was always solicitous, opening doors for her, handing her his coat in chilly rooms. They even looked alike, with fair skin and sun-streaked brown hair.

“You and Rock need to talk about things,” Pastor Bruce concluded gravely.

“We talk,” Laney said. She heard the defensive note in her voice. “Just yesterday he left me three pounds of candy bars in a basket on my front steps.”

Laney didn't add that peanuts gave her a rash or that she never kept chocolate in the store because it could kill Angel if he ate it.

“Obviously you both care a great deal for each other, but you shouldn't go into a marriage knowing so little about one another.”

“We may not know all the details about each other's lives,” Laney said, “but we know the important stuff.” She drew a breath and wiped hair off her face. “I love him.”

Pastor Bruce shook his head. “My test is foolproof. Trust me.” He reached for another cookie and broke it in half. “Of course, you know I can't perform any wedding until the couple passes my premarital test.” He held up his hand before Laney could protest. “I know it sounds like tough love, but believe me, Laney—it's for your own good.”

“You won't marry us?” Laney repeated faintly. Rock would pop a vein.

“Not until you pass the test.”

“Can we retest?”

Pastor Bruce beamed. “Absolutely,” he said. “You should go home tonight and call Rock. Start talking and find out everything you can about each other.” Pastor Bruce paused to wag his finger at her. “It's going to be a different test.”

Laney wondered how to break the news to Rock. He hated to fail at anything. She remembered last year's Fourth of July family softball game. The score had been tied and the bases loaded with two outs in the ninth inning. Rock had stepped to the plate, then deliberately into the path of her brother's fastball. He'd received an automatic walk to first base, which had pushed home the winning run.

“I'll call Rock right away,” Laney promised. “I'm sure the next time we're going to ace this exam.”

Pastor Bruce smiled and rose to his feet. “I'm glad I came here today.” He brushed cookie crumbs off his peach-colored polo shirt. “I'm sure all these misunderstandings between you and Rock can be worked out.”

Laney looked down at her ring, the symbol of Rock's love for her. “Me, too.” She remembered how funny it had felt the first days of wearing the diamond and how she wondered if it had been a mistake to accept Rock's proposal.

She was not blind to Rock's faults. He valued outward appearances more than she did. He loved his clothing and his convertible ad nauseam. When he did his eyebrow thing, only extreme self-control kept her from crossing her eyes back at him. Perhaps worst of all, he came with a mother who had every promise in the world of making her life miserable.

Yet it was because of these things, not despite them, that Laney had accepted Rock's proposal. His imperfections gave her the right to be equally imperfect. She'd seen them as two people moving through life in a clumsy sort of manner. Rock was chronically overgroomed. She viewed herself as the family clown, always trying to gain respectability but never quite achieving it.

She'd thought that together they might find a certain grace both currently lacked. And if great passion was missing between them, Laney felt their devotion to each other and a shared love of God would more than make up for it.

Pastor Bruce peered curiously at the plate of sandwiches and the picnic basket. Absently Laney handed him one. Tonight she'd fix Rock a special dinner. They would talk about everything. After tonight they would have no secrets between them, no subject too sensitive to discuss. She would reach for a level of emotional closeness that most couples only dreamed of achieving. She'd even tell him about finding the crumpled note in the church and her failed attempt to help Ty Steele.

“How's the sandwich?” Laney realized Pastor Bruce had been silent for a while. She loved this about him—his absolute faith in the power of reflection.

“Delicious,” Pastor Bruce responded. “Although I must admit, cucumber and peanut butter is a most unusual combination.”

“It isn't peanut butter,” Laney said with satisfaction. “It's hummus. Much healthier.”

Pastor Bruce's forehead creased in concern. “Isn't hummus a type of fertilizer?”

Laney laughed. “Not
humus
.
Hummus.
You think I fed you fertilizer?”

Pastor Bruce smiled but placed the remainder of the sandwich on the desk. “Of course not,” he managed, then added, “not on purpose anyway.”

“I don't find that
hummurous
,” Laney said, deliberately mispronouncing the word.

Pastor Bruce tilted his head to the sky and released a blast of laughter. “You make people laugh, Laney. It's a gift.” He grasped her forearm with surprising strength. “Don't let anyone tell you otherwise or try to change you.”

I just hope Rock feels the same way,
Laney thought. If not, she had a sick feeling that all the jokes in the world weren't going to make him think failing a premarital exam was humorous in the least.