Pretense (69 page)

"I need to talk business with you," Roz said once they sat at the kitchen table with glasses of cola.

"What kind of business?"

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"Well, I need to explain a little something first. Before we came to Christ, Adam and I spent money as though there were no tomorrow. Then even after we came to Christ, it took years to get on a budget and do things well."

Mackenzie nodded, getting ready to offer Roz any amount she wanted. She was in for a shock.

"I clean houses on Mondays and Tuesdays to pay off the debt. Now one of my ladies has made other arrangements. We don't live on my money-it all goes to pay off the debts-but I want to pick up another house so it doesn't take us any longer. That's where you come in."

Roz knew that Mackenzie was a very bright woman, but she could see that she was not catching on at all. She felt she had no choice but to take a breath and plunge in.

"Mackenzie, you need a cleaning lady."

The look on Mackenzie's face was comical. She even glanced down at herself and made Roz smile.

"I don't mean you personally; I mean your house."

"Oh, Roz, of course!" Understanding dawned. "I was just noticing how gross the carpet is in my bedroom and that I should lug the vacuum up, but I got sidetracked and didn't do it."

Roz tried not to smile, but it peeked out. Seeing it, Mackenzie started to laugh. The two women went into a fit of giggles.

"I was so afraid to ask you," Roz admitted. "I thought you would think I was trying to take advantage."

"Not at all." Mackenzie was still chuckling. "My apartment in Alexandria was so small that just a quick sweep with the vacuum made it look brand new. Not to mention that I was on a city street with apartments all around. The dust here is awful, and with the fireplace I just-" Mackenzie shrugged, and Roz laughed a little more. She was on the verge of saying something when the phone rang.

Always hoping it might be Delancey, Mackenzie did not let the machine get it. She almost groaned when she heard Paxton Hancock's voice. She had nearly forgotten about the man.

"Long time no talk to, Mackenzie," he said, obviously in a good mood.

"Hey, Paxton," Mackenzie replied, trying to think fast. Should she tell him everything now, write a letter, or set up another phone conversation?

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Roz was using her hands to question if she should leave, but Mackenzie shook her head no.

"How's the book coming?"

"It's not right now, Pax. I've got other things going on."

"Micah Bear?"

"No, I just-" She stopped short, thinking of the way Delancey had responded and dreading the same from her editor.

"Mackenzie, what is it?" Paxton's voice was so compassionate that she relaxed.

"I will finish the book, Pax, but I've made some changes in my life. Things were pretty miserable for a while for me, and when I did some searching, I found that my needs were spiritual."

"Okay..." Paxton's voice was still open.

"I trusted in Jesus Christ about two months ago. That doesn't mean that I'll never write again, but for right now, my interest is in other areas. Am I making any sense, Pax? I would hate it if I sounded like some kind of nut, because it's not like that."

"I don't think that at all. To tell you the truth, you seemed pretty unhappy even before you left. If you found a religion that's a help to you, I'm glad for you."

"It's not a religion, Pax; it's a way of life. Religion is something you do on Sundays. Life lived in Jesus Christ is something you do every day of the week."

"Wow, you're really into this."

"I am, Pax, and I'm sorry I didn't call and let you know. Time just got away."

"Well, good luck. You know that I still want that book and anything else you can crank out, but I'm glad to hear you're doing so well."

"I haven't forgotten the deadline, Pax. I will get it to you."

"Aren't we past that deadline?"

"I thought it was February 1."

Mackenzie could hear papers rustling.

"You're right. I had a spot open up and wanted to put
Shibboleth
in it, but if you don't have it done, you don't have it done."

"I'll tell you what," Mackenzie said, reaching for paper and a pen, "I'll call you in a month and tell you where I am."

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"That's fine. And Mackenzie, I mean what I said. Even if you never write another word, I'm happy for you. IronHorse wouldn't thank me for saying that, but they weren't the ones that saw your sad face and how alone you were."

"Oh, Paxton." Mackenzie was overjoyed. "I can't tell you what that means. I don't know if the future holds any more books, but you've been a good friend, and I thank you."

"Take care, Mackenzie."

"I will. Tell Jodi I said hi and hug that baby for me."

Mackenzie hung up, so glad that Roz had stayed.

"He was the man who launched Mac Walker's career," she explained.

"Your editor?"

"Yeah. We met a long time ago. It took more than two years to write my first book, and then the man I was dating gave it to Paxton to read without his knowing I wrote it. He's taken everything since then."

"I've never read any of Mac Walker's books, but Adam and Devon have. They love 'em."

Mackenzie nodded in true modesty. Writing was not an effort for her; the words and stories just poured out.

"Do you know that I can see the hand of God on me even then, Roz? My books have nothing in them that I'm ashamed of. My father was a moral man, even before he was saved, and most of my heroes are patterned after him. Not even the violence is graphic. I could have three books on the market totaling millions of copies, all of which I'm ashamed of, and even the one I'm working on now could be something I would want to put into the fireplace, but I don't feel that way."

Roz smiled. She loved this woman like one of her own. Her growth and hunger for the Lord were wonderful to see.

"God is good, Micki. You'll be learning that for the rest of your life."

This news suited Mackenzie, who wanted nothing more right now. The women talked a little more business, settling on the day for weekly cleaning and how Roz was to be paid. When Roz left, Mackenzie took a good look around. Things were pretty bad. She didn't even have to get close to see the dust and dirt patterns on the carpet. Now that she was more aware, she felt that Monday could not come soon enough.

490

Chicago

It was all Delancey could do not to skip through the airport. She didn't know why she had never thought of it before, but meeting Chet's plane was the most exciting thing she had done in a long time. She couldn't wait to see his face. Most of the time she didn't even know his schedule, but one night he'd had to call his boss from her apartment, and just his side of the conversation had given her enough to go on.

She arrived at Gate C-38 and stood way back in the shadows. Other people were milling around but came to attention when the light over the door flashed. Someone with the airline went to open it and make ready. Delancey could see that it had been a large plane: Many people disembarked. She knew she would have to be patient since he would be one of the last people off.

She almost stepped forward when the crowd thinned but then decided to hang back until the last minute. At last she saw him. Her face lit up as she moved forward, but she stopped before taking two steps. A petite brunette had gone up to him, and Delancey watched as Chet put an arm around her and kissed her. She turned slightly, and Delancey could see that she was very pregnant. She watched as Chet took the woman's face in his hands and tenderly kissed her twice more on the lips. Only then did she see the little girl at their feet. The child leapt for attention until Chet reached down and scooped her up. She was the image of Chet Dobson, but with her mother's dark hair.

Delancey was incapable of moving. As though someone had suddenly plunged her heart into the icy waters of the sea, she stood frozen as Chefs arm went around the woman and the three of them walked down the concourse. She had no idea how long she stood there. A child running from his mother darted into her legs, causing her to look down. She saw the hunter green wool pants set she had just bought, Chet in mind all the while.

As sure as she knew her name was Delancey Bishop, she knew that woman was his wife. So many things made perfect sense. Like blinds opening on a covered window, understanding flooded in like sunlight. Almost in automation, she began the walk back to the parking garage and her car. Her surprise had backfired. Not a tear was shed; however, her heart felt utterly

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cold to the man she had been ready to spend the rest of her life with. She left the airport but didn't go home, at least not for while. She suddenly had quite a bit of work to do.

It was almost bedtime one week later, but as soon as Chet's pager showed Delancey's number, he made an excuse to get out of the house. He hadn't been able to get her for a week and wanted nothing more than to talk to her. On the way to "buy milk," he tried to think if she had been upset with him at all but thought things were going fine.

"Hi." His voice was smooth when he heard hers.

"I need to see you, Chet."

"Okay. I've been trying to call."

"I need to see you," Delancey repeated, so cold inside was she that she didn't even need to tell herself to be strong.

"We have a date tomorrow night, don't we?"

"I need to see you now."

"I can't, Delancey."

"Now, Chet." Her voice became cold, and he became alarmed. She hadn't pulled any games lately, but that didn't mean she wouldn't.

"Okay. I'll come over."

"No, I'll meet you at Clancey's in an hour."

"Clancey's?" he questioned. They never went there.

"That's right. One hour."

"Okay." He sounded weary and impatient, but Delancey knew he would show up. She was there long ahead of him. The waiter, $20 richer and with strict instructions to leave them alone, was ready to keep an eye on the man joining her and to call the police if he acted at all threatening.

Delancey didn't smile or move when he approached the table, and Chet, knowing her look, sat opposite her in the dark corner booth and didn't try to touch her.

"What's so urgent?" he asked, knowing from experience that if he could keep control of the conversation, he could settle her down much sooner.

"I met your plane last week," Delancey said simply.

Chet paused but recovered quickly. "I didn't see you."

"No, you were too busy kissing a short brunette and hugging a little girl."

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It gave Delancey no end of pleasure to see him pale. If she could have acted out her fantasy, the waiter would be calling the police to have
her
removed for violence.

"Delancey, I-" but she let him get no further.

"Don't even try." Her voice was so calm it was frightening. "I know everything. Do you hear me, Chet?
Everything.
I know you're married to Kari Anne and have been for six years. I know you have a daughter named Jennifer who was four in September, and that your wife is scheduled to have a little boy in five weeks."

Chet licked his lips but still managed to speak. "If you only found out a week ago, how-"

"It's amazing what money can buy in this town. I told the man I wanted information fast, and I got it. I kept my phone unplugged unless I was calling him so you couldn't reach me. I know that you live in a beautiful home on Shady Oak Drive and that your wife's family is loaded. I know that there is no airline in France and that you share the apartment we were in with another married pilot who likes girlfriends as much as you do."

"Delancey, it doesn't have to end like this."

Her smile was bitter and brief. "You're wrong, Chet, very wrong. It's over, and if you ever try to contact me again, I'll make a little visit to Kari Anne."

It was the worst thing she could have said. He knew it was over, but he wasn't about to let her go while she was still holding all the cards. He forced himself to sit back, his eyes going into the sexy droop that she loved.

"You won't go, Delancey. It's too good between us." His voice was low and inviting. "You'll pout for a few weeks, but then my pager will go off, and I'll see your number."

Delancey stopped her movements to leave.

"Have we ever talked about my black belt, Chet? No? How silly of me to have forgotten. I hope you do come by. I'll be sure to invite you in. But be prepared to hit the floor fast. I'll take great satisfaction in breaking your spine in three places. Even if you do live to tell about it, I'll know that you'll never fly another plane, and you'll never lie to your wife or anyone else again." She picked up her purse. "You think I won't go? Watch me."

Delancey moved from the booth and headed directly to the waiter she had spoken with earlier, another bill and a piece of paper in her hand.