Читать книгу The Color Of Light - Emilie Richards - Страница 9

chapter three

“YOU’RE QUIETER THAN USUAL.” Ethan touched Analiese’s hand across the restaurant table, just a brief pat. “We can cancel our order, and you can go home and put your feet up for the night.”

Instead Analiese made herself more comfortable in her chair in the dark corner of the Biltmore Village cantina. “I’m as hungry as I’m tired. And besides, even if I’m not chattering away, I’m still grateful for your company.”

“You ordered a salad. That doesn’t sound hungry to me.”

Analiese toyed with her fork and imagined, just for a moment, pasta dripping with Alfredo sauce twined around it. “A big salad.”

“With dressing on the side and no avocados. In a southwestern restaurant yet.”

She laughed and met his eyes. “If I start indulging myself every time I have a bad day, I’ll swell up like a puffer fish. You have no idea how fast I can gain weight.”

“How do you know? When was the last time you gained even a pound?”

She was a maniac about her weight, but Analiese had faced that and forgiven herself. “I’m healthy. I don’t have an eating disorder. Being on camera taught me to stay away from foods that encourage me to binge. Like pizza, and fried chicken.” She smiled. “And avocados.”

“Not lettuce, apparently.”

She knew he was teasing, because the salad had wonderful things in it. Black beans, queso fresco and chicken breast.

“I’m drinking a glass of wine.” She held up her glass.

“When you really wanted a margarita.”

“How could you tell?”

“By how quickly you ran over the server when she tried to describe all the possibilities. You didn’t want to hear them.”

“Is that why you got wine, too?”

“I got wine because that’s what I wanted.”

She abruptly ran out of small talk. Now that she had reassured him, she knew she could sit quietly with Ethan for the rest of the evening and both of them would be perfectly comfortable. But she didn’t want to be quiet. She decided to tell him what was really on her mind.

“It’s not just that today was an unusually bad day of ministry...”

“Let’s not forget being knocked to the ground by someone you wanted to help.”

“That, too. But actually that’s what I’ve been playing over and over in my mind.” She sipped her wine and thought about what to say and what not to.

He filled in the gap. “An attack like that would upset anybody, but you did everything right. Except maybe believing anybody that drunk could be reasonable.”

“I haven’t been thinking about the man who pushed me. I’ve been wondering about the one who helped me off the ground. Or at least the man I thought he was. For a moment, at least.”

She could see that Ethan didn’t understand, but why should he? She wasn’t being purposely obtuse; she was just trying to find a way into the story.

She started again. “The crowd surged in around me. For a moment I thought I was going to be run over.”

“You nearly were.”

“I saw a hand extended so I grabbed it. A man helped me up. The crowd pressed in, and I only got a glimpse of him. Before I could say anything he was swallowed by people, and by the time I got away, he was gone.”

“Are you worried because you didn’t have a chance to thank him?”

“I’m sure he wasn’t expecting anything. Not under those circumstances. The thing is...” She took another sip. “I thought he was someone I knew, someone I haven’t seen in a long time. I was almost certain, but it makes no sense, not really. Because I can’t imagine why he would be in Asheville.”

“But if it was somebody who knows you, wouldn’t he have stayed to say hello?”

“You would think so.” She realized she was toying with her wineglass, rolling it back and forth between her palms the way her mother used to roll dough for the sweet rolls she had made nearly every day of Analiese’s childhood. She set it down before she spoke again. “Did I ever tell you how I came to be a minister?”

“Just that it wasn’t your original career choice. I know you started in television news.”

“I actually started in theater, but along the way I found television and switched my major. I got married right out of college. Greg was a producer at a local network affiliate, and I did my internship under his supervision. After we tied the knot he moved us to California to a larger station, and I was hired as a reporter.”

“I knew you’d been married. Divorced?”

She shook her head. “Greg was quite a bit older, a catch and a charmer from head to toe. Unfortunately, as I learned, he was also an unrepentant womanizer, a daredevil and a bully. His favorite pastime, other than one-night stands, was to ride his Harley at high speeds on dangerous roads. In a rare moment of candor—after one of our many fights—he told me that the only time he really felt alive was when he was facing death.”

“You were very young.”

She smiled a little, because it was true. “But not an idiot. I was gathering my resources to divorce him when he went over a cliff on his motorcycle. He didn’t live to report the story. As horrible and unministerial as this sounds, dying was the only nice thing he’d done for me since the early months of our marriage. I didn’t have to go through a divorce. I had his life insurance and pension, plus I was able to stay on at the station. Because not only would Greg have fired me, he would have blacklisted me once he got the divorce papers, so I never found another television gig.”

“A charmer for sure.”

She pictured her ex, something she rarely did. “Indeed he was.”

“And he’s the reason you left television?”

“I left because of Isaiah Colburn.” She paused. “Father Isaiah Colburn, the man I thought I saw today.”

“You knew him from California?”

“Two years after Greg died I was considering a better job at another station farther north in Los Angeles. I was sent to report a house fire in a poor Latino neighborhood. It was one of those awful, awful moments, Ethan. Children trapped inside with no way to get out. Grieving, wailing parents. The fire department carried out the bodies, and my job was to try to get people to talk to me about what they were feeling. Hopefully people intimately connected, of course, the more intimately the better. A real coup would have been the parents.”

He winced. She went on.

“My strength was empathy, and I wanted to go to them and help somehow, but, of course, I couldn’t. For the first time I realized I would always be at a distance, that I might be first on the scene, reporting what I saw, but I’d never be truly a part of it. That my job, like the police and fire personnel, was to stay on the outside, to remain objective, to move on to the next tragedy. If Greg only felt alive defying the odds, I only seemed to feel alive when I was witnessing and documenting the lives of others. Only at that moment I didn’t feel alive. I felt like a voyeur.”

“Epiphanies come in all shapes and sizes, huh?”

She looked away. “Thank God the parents were behind the police line and I couldn’t get near them, or I might have tried. I ask myself that sometimes. Would I have?”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Ethan said.

She would never be sure. “Anyway, while I was scurrying around for a story, my heart silently breaking, a car pulled up and a man got out. Thirtyish, dog collar and clerical shirt. Clearly a priest. They let him through to be with the family. Nobody questioned how important he was. I glimpsed the way he greeted them, the long hug of mutual sorrow, the tears, the hands held, the heads bowed. Then their exodus together, him protecting them from people like me who wanted a small piece of their tragedy to increase ratings. I saw the way he shielded them, dealt quickly and succinctly with questions from the police, helped them into the car that would take them to the hospital where the deaths of their children would be confirmed and plans made for burial.”

“And your life changed.”

“In an instant. My personal road to Damascus. I saw the future I was pursuing and, beside it, a different path. Not one lived in the spotlight, but one lived in a smaller, more intimate place, where my actions would only be recorded on hearts and souls. I wanted to be where the smallest acts of kindness and comfort make all the difference. I saw myself in clerical garb, my arm around the shoulders of that young mother.” She took a deep breath. “You know the rest.”

“How did you meet the priest?”

“Like a good reporter I learned his name. Then a few days later I went to him with the idea of doing a story about priests, pastors, rabbis, anybody called to minister to people during the worst moments of their lives. But Isaiah saw right through me. By the end of our conversation he had wangled the truth. He saw I was questioning my life, and he suggested I begin to listen to the still, small voice inside me that was leading me elsewhere.”

She picked up her wineglass again, and they sat quietly for a few moments.

“If the man today was him, why wouldn’t he have stayed to talk?”

She told him part of the truth. “We stayed in touch when I was in seminary in New York, and for a while after I came here. We might be from different faiths, but so much of what we go through as clergy is exactly the same. Over the years, though, I got busy, and I guess he did, too. I haven’t heard from him in a long time. Maybe he didn’t even recognize me.”

“Right after you were pushed you were up on the platform, and you were introduced to the crowd by name as the minister of the Church of the Covenant.”

“So I was.” Gratefully she saw their server approaching with their dinners. Even from a short distance Ethan’s quesadilla smelled luscious. “I guess whoever I saw today was really a stranger,” she said, to close the subject, “but after a long, hard day, maybe the Holy Spirit was trying to help me remember why I do what I do.”

“Did it work?”

“We’ll see after I get some food in my stomach.”

After half a head of lettuce she felt a little better. They chatted casually about their mutual friends, a group of women Ethan’s wife, Charlotte, had known and loved and who, in true Charlotte fashion, she had manipulated so they would remain together after her death.

Informally the women called themselves the Goddesses Anonymous. The name referred to the Buddhist goddess of mercy, Kuan Yin, who was said to have remained on earth after death to anonymously help those who suffered. None of the women Charlotte had chosen lived up to the goddess title, but they did work together to reach out in different ways to women who needed them. Charlotte’s family home in the mountains above Asheville had been left to them, and now they used the land and vintage log house, which they called the Goddess House, in a variety of ways.

“I’m probably not giving away a secret,” she said as their server removed their plates and left the check, “but just in case, don’t tell anybody else. Georgia and Lucas have finally set their wedding date. The middle of February.”

“Here in Asheville?” Ethan waited for her nod. “You’ll do the wedding?”

“They want me to, and right now they’re planning for the Goddess House.”

He gave a low whistle, and she smiled. “I know. They might need divine intervention to keep the road clear up Doggett Mountain.”

She left enough cash for the meal and a tip, glad that Ethan didn’t try to wrest the bill from her grip. Then she stood. “I’ve kept you too long. If you drop me back at the church I’ll pick up my car.”

He rose. “I imagine it’s a zoo there tonight, as usual.”

“Tomorrow the whole place is booked solid, but I think this is one of those rare nights when the building’s empty and I don’t have to pop in and see what people are up to.”

“A bad day ends well after all.”

She took his hand for just a moment. “You made it end well, friend. Thank you.”

“You’ve done the same for me more than once.”

As they’d eaten the temperature had continued to drop, and once she was outside Analiese was sorry she had left her coat in her car. The trip back to the church was short, and Ethan was quiet, too. She guided him to park in the short strip closest to the parish house, which was reserved for staff.

Her car sat alone, no forklift in sight. She wondered how the rest of the executive committee meeting had gone and immediately put that out of her mind. Tonight was reserved for a hot bath, prayers and bed. She would worry about the phone calls tomorrow.

When she started to open her door, he put his hand over hers to stop her.

Surprised, she turned, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was leaning forward gazing at the back of the parish house. “Didn’t you say that nothing was going on here tonight?”

“Nothing is. Why?”

“Because somebody’s inside. I just saw a shadow pass in front of the window.”

“Maybe Felipe is cleaning. He likes to clean at night so he won’t run into people.” But this was Friday. Felipe, their sexton, was adamant that Friday was a night to enjoy his wife and children, and in solidarity, his two assistants knew better than to clean on Fridays, too.

“Felipe’s the janitor?” Ethan asked.

“Sexton. Church word.”

“Does he clean in the dark? The only light that’s on in there looks like an exit sign. But it was enough for me to see a figure pass the window.”

“You’re sure you saw somebody?”

“Unless the building’s haunted, I saw somebody.”

“I’ll go in and check.” She reached for the door handle again, but he stopped her.

“I think we probably ought to call the police and let them go inside first.”

She had to smile at that. “Are you kidding? Committee heads have keys. Probably half the council have keys. The rest of the staff has keys. I bet somebody just left something behind they needed for the weekend, or came to do a committee report or lesson plans for Sunday school where it’s quiet.”

“How often does that happen?”

The parsonage, where she lived, was several miles away from the parish house, where meetings and business were conducted, so she couldn’t give a precise answer.

“Felipe used to keep watch. He and his family lived in an apartment on the top floor of the parish house. But they bought a house and moved out about six months ago, so I don’t really know. Since the building’s in nearly constant use, no one was concerned.”

“Well, somebody’s using it right now.”

“I’ll check.”

“I’m coming with you.”

She could imagine the fallout if the police confronted the council president as he was picking up his mail or typing up meeting notes. But in the unlikely case there was a problem, Ethan’s company would be appreciated.

“Let’s do it quickly so you can go home.” This time he didn’t stop her when she opened the door.

She had keys to every door in the building, and once they neared the parish house she held up a heavy key ring. She kept her voice low. “Call me Hagrid of Hogwarts.”

“Is there a light switch by the door?”

She tried to remember. Usually the building was populated and well lit when she arrived. “To the right, I think. We’ll be entering through a small activity room, then once we’re through that, there’s a hallway. Offices to the left, stairs on the right to the next two floors, and a parlor and more meeting rooms beyond the stairs. If somebody is here who isn’t supposed to be, it’s going to be hard to track them down. There are a lot of places to hide.”

“Just listen once we’re in.”

She found the right key, having learned at the beginning of her ministry that tagging them was essential. The master key didn’t always work and never worked on this door because the lock was decrepit. Her pleas for a replacement had been ignored.

She put the key in the lock and jiggled it carefully, sliding it out a bit, sliding it in farther until she heard the lock pop.

“Is the door always that hard to open?” he asked.

“Welcome to my world.” She pushed the door wide and stepped inside, flipping on the light immediately. Ethan was right behind her, and together they blinked at the sudden glare, but the room was empty.

“We’ll check the downstairs first,” he said.

“I imagine whoever you saw will shortly arrive to announce themselves.”

They crossed the room and moved into the hallway. No lights were visible except the one behind them. Analiese had expected otherwise.

She was trying to figure out which direction to try first when she heard a noise. She immediately pinpointed the source. There was a single restroom immediately outside her office door, but on the rare occasion it was in use, she, like everyone else, had to walk down the hall to use the one in the hallway where they stood. Now as someone pushed it open she recognized the peculiar squeaking of the door. She whirled just in time to see the slight figure of a girl emerge.

When she saw Analiese and Ethan the girl let out a screech, and before the sound could die away, she took off in the other direction, sneakers thumping, long braid flying out behind her.

Without even a second’s hesitation, Ethan followed.