The Isaac Project (20 page)

My lips twitched in a smile. While I was happy for the great defensive play from my team, I found watching Becky even more entertaining than the game.

“I see that smile, Luke Masterson. Just don’t get too cocky over there. This is only the first half, and we’re only down by a field goal.”

I held up my hands but did nothing to hide my broadening grin.

The game was pretty much a deadlock after that. Neither team was able to move the ball much, nor put any more points on the board. The game clock read fifty-nine seconds left in the game, and the Rams had possession of the ball. Becky was tense. She had the edge of her jersey between her thumb and index finger, and she was rubbing the fabric. It didn’t look like she would get the chance to wear that jersey for the rest of the season. I kind of felt bad for her, but a bet was a bet.

“Yes!” Becky shouted at the TV as she leaped off the couch. “Run!”

Wait. What? Didn’t we have the ball? Quickly, I looked back to the screen only to see Eric Reid, the Niners safety, running down the field. Thankfully, Rams tight end Jared Cook pushed him out of bounds before he scored a touchdown.

My mouth hung open. What happened? We had the game in the bag. Instant replay showed Sam Bradford’s mistake as he hurled the ball toward a receiver trapped in double coverage. The ball was picked out of the air by Reid in a game-changing interception. The game clock now read thirty-three seconds with the 49ers lining up at the Rams seven-yard line. With both teams in formation, the 49ers center hiked the ball, and the Rams blitzed, forcing Kaepernick out of the pocket and scrambling. With no receivers open and hulky linebackers charging him, the 49ers quarterback had two choices—throw the ball away or tuck it in close and run it himself. With the left side of the field conveniently open, the athletic quarterback lengthened his stride and sprinted to the orange pylon and the end zone. Once his feet crossed the white painted line indicating the end zone, he quickly slid to the ground to avoid a tackle and possible injury.

“Touchdown!” Both Becky and Mr. Sawyer yelled as they gave each other a high-five.

Now it was the Rams turn to be down by three. And if the Niners made the extra point, they’d be down by four. With less than twenty-five seconds left on the clock, they might as well have been down by a hundred. There was no way they would come back after that.

“Ah, don’t look so dejected.” Becky came over and patted my shoulder. The gleam of victory in her eyes contradicted the comforting action. “You’re going to look really good in red and gold.”

“Okay, rub it in. Have your fun.”

“Look on the bright side,” Mr. Sawyer supplied from his seat. “At least we aren’t Packers fans and Becky’s not making you wear a cheese head all season.” He laughed until the shaking of his shoulders was no longer from mirth but a dry, hacking cough.

“Help me get him back to bed, will ya?” Becky nodded her head in Mr. Sawyer’s direction.

Becky brought over a wheelchair, and I slid one arm around Mr. Sawyer’s shoulders and the other under his knees. My heart dropped at his light weight. I glanced at Becky and tried to block her view as I placed her grandfather in the wheelchair. She was still riding a high from a team victory. She didn’t need a reminder of the present reality.

Once Mr. Sawyer was comfortably in bed, we climbed back into her truck to head home. Home. I rolled the word around in my mind. When had Becky’s house become home? It felt good.

“So you ready to trade in your blue for crimson? Join a winning team?” Becky glanced at me with a cheeky grin before returning her focus to the road.

“I’m not a fair-weather fan. Win or lose, I’m in it for the long haul.” I looked over and inspected her profile. A becoming blush tinged her cheeks. She’d caught my double entendre. 

“I’m a size large, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice squeaked.

“The bet. I guess my new Sunday uniform will be sporting Kaepernick’s name on the back.”

The rumble of the truck died as Becky killed the engine. As we walked toward the house, I wrapped my hand around her small one. She looked up at me, and I winked. I opened the door and let Becky walk through. The door closed behind me, and Becky’s rain jacket fell to the ground. A crumpled piece of paper tumbled out of the pocket. What was that? I bent to pick up the paper, and Becky lunged at me.

“I got it!”

Too late. I’d already seen what was written on the note, and my heart iced over faster than the shores of Lake Michigan in December.

21

Rebekah

“IT’S NOT WHAT you think.”

“And what is it that I think?” Luke’s jaw pulsated.

“It’s nothing, Luke.” I reached out to touch his arm, but he took a half step back. “There’s no reason to get so upset.”

“No reason?” He waved the paper in my face. “Becky, have you even read this note?”

“Of course I’ve read it.” And it scared me to death, but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

“Obviously you haven’t if you think it’s nothing. Let me refresh your memory. ‘Horse thieves should be lynched.’ Lynched, Becky. And you think it’s nothing?”

“It’s probably just teenagers out for a good laugh. I’ve never stolen anything in my life, much less a horse.”

The tension radiating off Luke could be picked up by a Geiger counter. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was regarding me with a look that made me want to go hide behind the couch.

“Were you even going to tell me about it?”

The question sounded more like an accusation.

My first instinct was to say, yes, of course, as soon as we got home. But it was a lie, and I could feel my own defenses rise in the face of his disapproval.

“No, I wasn’t going to tell you, because it’s nothing.” I crossed my arms and scowled. “Just a silly little prank by some bored teenagers.”

If Luke had been a cartoon, his face would have been beet red and steam would have been coming out of his ears. As it was, his nostrils flared and his jaw ticked. I waited for the explosion.

“Well, that’s just fine, little miss independence.” Sarcasm and anger mixed in his voice. “You just keep your little secrets and keep telling yourself it’s you against the world. As a matter of fact, I have a secret of my own. But, unlike you, I was planning on telling you mine. I was waiting for the right time, but, like they say, there’s no time like the present.” He practically stomped the two short steps to the table, reached in his back pocket, and withdrew an envelope and threw it on the table. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the door in his wake.

I sunk onto the couch and blew out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. That hadn’t gone well at all. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why Luke was in such a huff. Granted, when I’d found the note on top of the feed bins that morning, it had scared me too, but I truly believed what I’d told Luke. It was no big deal. Just some prank. I wasn’t in any real danger. And it wasn’t his problem anyway.

My justifications finished, I allowed my curiosity to take over. Inching over to the edge of the couch, I took the envelope off the table. Turning it over, I opened the flap, and two tickets fell onto the floor. I leaned over and picked them up, reading them as I settled back into the couch again, tucking my legs underneath me.

My hand flew to my mouth.

Luke had bought tickets to the Sacramento Ballet Company’s production of
Swan Lake
. How did he know about my obsession with ballet? I looked to the door, willing him to open it and step through. I wanted to apologize for our misunderstanding and say thank you for such a gift. Ballet tickets. I was finally going to go see a real ballet.

But Luke didn’t step through the doorway. I guess he needed more time to cool off. In the meantime, I had horses to feed. Maybe I’d run across him on my way to the barn.

I scanned the yard between the house and barn, but the only living things I saw were Lady and the squirrel she’d chased up a tree. The horses trotted to the fence line and nickered at me.

“Hey, ol’ boy,” I crooned as I stroked Samson on his broad forehead. He shoved my chest with his nose.

“Okay, okay, I hear ya. No need to get pushy. I’ll be right back with dinner, your highness.” 

I grabbed the wheelbarrow by the barn and pushed it over to the lean-to that housed the hay. The bale I had opened that morning was nearly gone, so I climbed up the bales I had stacked as stairs to reach the top of the pile. When I reached the pinnacle, I gasped.

A doll with a rope tied around its neck dangled from the rafters. Hanging in midair, it swayed gently in the evening breeze.

The flesh on my skin crawled as goose bumps formed. My heart pounded. I looked around to see if anyone was in sight. I half expected a boy from town to be lurking behind one of the posts, ready to point and laugh at my frightened reaction. I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“Ha-ha, very funny, guys.”

Taking out my pocket knife, I reached up and cut the doll down. There was no reason Luke needed to see this. If he’d overreacted to a little note, I couldn’t imagine how he would react to a lynched doll.

I rolled the bale of hay I needed off the top, and it landed with a thud on the ground. I loaded the flakes of hay into the wheelbarrow and pushed it back out to the horses. Lady ran over to “help” just as I reached the fence.

“And just where were you, oh mighty watchdog, when someone was stringing up a doll to the rafters of the lean-to, hmm?”

All I got in response was slobbery panting and a wagging tail. She was more likely to lick someone to death than anything else.

I threw the doll in the outside garbage before going back to the house.

“Luke? You back yet?”

Silence.

“Guess not.”

Removing a pot from the cabinet, I filled it with water, some olive oil, and a pinch of salt and set it on the stove to boil. The store-bought can of spaghetti sauce went in another pot on the stove to warm. When the water began to boil, I put in the noodles and began chopping vegetables for a salad. The sauce was starting to make tiny bubbly explosions when the front door opened.

“Something smells good.” Luke sniffed the air.

I stirred the sauce and turned down the heat and then turned to look at Luke.

“What happened to you?” I blurted out. His face was red, and his hair was damp.

“Well, when I usually have a lot on my mind or need to blow off some steam, I head to the gym and a punching bag. But since there was nothing around here I could punch, I went for a run.”

“Feel better?”

He shrugged. “A bit, I guess.”

I wanted to apologize for not telling him about the note, but images of a swinging doll filtered through my head. I couldn’t apologize for one secret when I was still hiding another.

“Luke.” I picked up the envelope with the tickets off the table. “How did you know? Thank you so much.”

The corners of his lips turned up slightly, but his eyes still remained shuttered. “Your grandfather told me about your love of ballet. I’m glad you like your gift.”

“I do. I love it. Thank you.”

The cliché of crickets chirping during an awkward silence was surprisingly true. The late summer song of the cicadas out the window grated against my nerves as the thickness in the air threatened to suffocate me. I missed the camaraderie we’d shared earlier in the day. I turned back to the stove and finished getting dinner ready.

After a quick blessing for the food, Luke turned toward me. I steeled myself for anything he might say. I had hoped he would let this whole thing go, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

“I think we should file a report with the police.”

“The police?” He was taking this all too seriously.

“Yes, the police. Becky, whether you realize it or not, someone threatened you. I know you think it’s all some big joke, but, even still, the police should know. They need to have it on file. If you don’t think it’s a threat, at least consider it harassment. You never know what they might do next to scare you.”

Oh yes, I did. They’d hang a doll from the rafters above my hay.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

I sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow I’ll head over to the police station and file a report.”

Luke’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

***

A week later I sat across from Luke at a fancy restaurant in downtown Sacramento. The crystal water glasses reflected the dancing light from the candles in the middle of our table, the low murmur of conversation harmonized with the strands of Chopin coming from the baby Grand piano in the corner. I ran my hand along the lace overlay of my gown. The night felt so surreal, so Cinderella-like. Could the man across from me be my Prince Charming?

“So why did you do it?” Maybe it was the euphoric state I was in—the ballet company’s excellent performance of
Swan Lake
and the ambiance of the upscale restaurant mixing to form an elixir that left me with little inhibitions. Or maybe I felt like tonight, defrocked of frumpy jeans and my ever-present ponytail, I was a different person, and if I didn’t seize this moment to satisfy my curiosity, then I’d wake up tomorrow plain ol’ me with the nagging question still unanswered.

Luke dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Why did I do what? Take you to the ballet?”

“No. I mean, yes. Yes to all of it.” The cloth napkin twisted in my grip. “Why did you marry a complete stranger? Why did you buy me a wedding dress when we had only known each other a day? Why did you go to all the trouble to make tonight so special?”

“I’m glad you think tonight is special.” He reached over and touched my hand. “I think you’re special.”

I blushed. “Seriously. I really want to know. You know why I asked Lisa to find me a husband, but why did you say yes?”

He took a drink of water from a crystal goblet and leaned back in his chair after he set it back on the table. “When Lisa first told me about her friend who had asked her to find her a husband, I thought you were both crazy. I thought you must be this really unattractive woman who was so lonely and desperate that you would do anything to get married.” He pushed his plate to the side and leaned forward. “But I was wrong. You are very beautiful, Becky.”