Paula let herself into her apartment, pulling the rolling travel case with her. The scent of garlic and tomato permeated the room, teasing her taste buds. She always passed on the airline food, but now she found herself hoping that the leftovers of whatever had been cooked for dinner were sitting on a shelf in the fridge.
Linn rounded the corner of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks. Dare I hope you have leftovers to share?”
Linn smiled. “I made plenty. It’s only spaghetti, though, and I’m afraid Prego was involved.”
“Believe me—my stomach doesn’t feel very picky right now.”
“I’ll fix you a plate.”
Linn disappeared into the kitchen before Paula could protest. She was so tired from the travel and stress; maybe she would just sit down and take it easy. She’d been fine in Jackson. She had managed to put the whole mess of Faith and the Morgans out of her mind, more or less, and focus on David and the thought of having a baby. But the moment he dropped her at the airport, her mind flew faster than a jet toward her precarious future.
She rolled her bag into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
She had to make a decision about the Morgans—and soon. Once they hired a PI, it was only a matter of time before he found the truth. The whole truth. What should she do?
“Paula? It’s ready.”
She shoved her thoughts to the back of her mind and joined Linn in the kitchen. “Smells great.”
Linn set the plate and a glass of fizzy soda on the dining-room table.
“Thanks, Linn.”
“You’ll have to teach me to make your fancy spaghetti sauce sometime,” Linn said.
“Sure.” Paula rolled the spaghetti around the fork tines and slid it into her mouth. Prego aside, this really hit the spot.
Sitting across from her, Linn set her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her palm.
“Didn’t have to work today?” Paula asked.
“Just noon to seven.”
“You had to miss church?”
Linn’s shoulder hitched upward. “I went to Sunday school.”
“Sunday school. Man, I haven’t been there since I was a teenager.”
“I don’t know why they call it that. It’s more like a small group that studies the Bible and has an open discussion. They have a college-age class at this church.”
“Anyone with boyfriend potential?”
Linn’s lips parted, then closed.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about Adam.” Paula drew out the name in a sultry tone.
Linn sat back in her chair. “There’s nothing between me and Adam.”
“Oh, right. That tension I felt in the room last week was electrical energy from the thunderstorm we weren’t having.”
“Adam is a dead end for me. Number one, he’s engaged. At least, I think he still is. Number two, I couldn’t be more wrong for him.”
Paula didn’t miss the flicker of sadness in Linn’s eyes. “Didn’t you say he was studying to be a pastor or something? That seems like a perfect fit to me. You’re a Christian.”
Linn stared out the window before responding. “I’m a Christian with the past of a harlot. Not exactly preacher’s wife material.”
Paula thought back on what she knew of Linn. The affair with her sister’s ex-husband, the almost abortion. And then she’d kept her identity a secret while convincing Natalie to adopt the baby. “Does Adam know about your past?”
Linn played with the gold chain that hung around her neck. “So how was your weekend?”
Paula narrowed her eyes. “Very shrewd, young lady. My weekend went quite well, thank you very much.”
“So you didn’t tell him?”
“Same as you didn’t tell Adam?”
“It’s hardly the same thing.”
“What—there are times to be honest and times to hide all your dark secrets? What do you think I was trying to do all those years ago? It’s no different.”
“Then you think honesty is the best policy?” Linn cocked her head.
“That’s not what I said.”
“What are you saying?”
Paula sighed and laid her fork in her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I have no idea what to do about my own quandary, much less yours.”
“Isn’t there a difference between lying and just omitting information? I mean, why is it wrong that I haven’t told Adam everything about my past?”
“So you haven’t lied to him about anything?”
Linn looked down. Her fingers played with a loose thread on the tablecloth. “I did lie about something. I’ve felt guilty about it ever since.”
When Linn bit the corner of her lip, Paula felt bad. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, you’re right. And I know what I should do.”
Paula studied Linn’s face. The drooping corners of her mouth had resignation written all over them. “Just like that? You realize you’ve lied and you just go fix it?”
Linn shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“What about the repercussions? Will there be any for you?”
Linn gave a wry laugh. “Oh yeah.”
“Then why do it? Wouldn’t it be easier to let it slide?”
“Sure, in the short run.” Linn wrapped the thread around her index finger. “But experience has taught me that lies come back to bite you later. And when they do, they bite hard.”
Paula put David from her mind for the moment and remembered her meeting with Deb and Faith the week before. “I lied to the Morgans.” Paula wiped her mouth with the napkin and set it down beside her glass. “I told Deb I hadn’t found out anything new.”
Linn nodded slowly. “You need to tell her the truth, you know.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No, it’s not easy for me to say,” Linn refuted. “I’m just telling you that these things come out eventually. And it ain’t pretty when it happens.”
It was true, especially in this case. Paula attempted to rub the tension out of her neck. “Sooner rather than later this time.” She met Linn’s frank gaze. “They’re hiring a private investigator this week.”
“You should tell them before they find out on their own.”
“How can I tell them I knew who Faith was and kept it from them?” Even now Paula cringed to think of it. Deb and Steve respected her and thought the best of her. Yet she had the answer they longed for, and she was keeping it from them for her own selfish reasons.
“Maybe I could just talk to Louise and get her to promise not to talk about it with anyone.”
Linn shook her head.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake.” Paula shoved her chair back and took her plate to the sink. Linn was practically a child. She may have had a difficult life, but she couldn’t understand all the repercussions of a situation like this. She wasn’t willing to throw away her marriage for the sake of honesty. She loved David way too much for that.
She didn’t want to think about this anymore. It was like a massive snarl of tangled yarn—hopeless and frustrating. She should finish the copy on the story she’d interviewed for last week. It was nothing particularly exciting. Just a local author who’d won a prestigious award. It would numb her mind to her own problems, and that was exactly what she needed.
When she got to her room, she fished her tape recorder, notebook, and a pencil from her bag. She pushed Play and jotted down the interesting blurbs she thought she’d use. When it reached the end, she started to push the Stop button. But before she could, another sound began. A click and then the sound of singing. A child’s voice, all airy and sweet.
Faith.
In the background Paula could hear Deb and herself talking, but Faith’s voice was loud and clear as if she held the recorder to her mouth. She wasn’t chattering, as Paula had thought. She was singing “The Wheels on the Bus.”
That was her child singing. Hers and David’s. The little girl she’d carried inside her own womb.
And had tried to abort.
Paula punched the Stop button. Her hands were unsteady, as if she hadn’t eaten all day. And her legs felt quivery and weak, like the cooked noodles from dinner.
What do I do, God?
She couldn’t believe she was even asking, but who else could she ask? She knew God was there, at least. And He was listening. On the other hand, hadn’t she brought this on herself? Didn’t she deserve whatever she got? Why would God help her out of her own mess?
Do you care, God?
She had always thought worshiping God was for weak people who were incapable of handling life on their own. She’d always felt a certain disdain for those who needed a crutch to get through life. But now she’d take a crutch if she could get one. She was clearly limping through life.
“Forgive me, God. I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face. “I’ve needed You all my life and didn’t see it.” She remembered all the times she repeated the “sinner’s prayer” silently in Sunday school and Vacation Bible School. But she hadn’t meant it then. She only followed along because it’s what the teachers thought she should do.
Oh, God, I do believe in You. I know Jesus Christ, Your Son, came to die in my place. I’ve known it since I was a little girl, and yet I’ve denied You. I’m sorry. Help me change. Help me.
Where had she gone so wrong? Why, when she’d practically been born in the church nursery, had she left the path her parents had tried to set for her? Her sisters had never strayed from the course.
She lay facedown on the bed. When had she decided she would take a different path? How had she gone so far from where she belonged?
It must have happened slowly, because she couldn’t remember ever making the choice. Only one bad decision at a time. And now those decisions had stacked up like so many bags of garbage.
How do I fix it, God?
Linn had made it seem so simple, but was it really as simple as telling the truth no matter what?
Paula suddenly remembered a Vacation Bible School she attended when she was ten or eleven. The theme was camping or something, because she remembered the kids were all spread out in sleeping bags in the church yard with a fake campfire in the center. Mrs. Young had been talking about the Ten Commandments all week, and she compared them to the guardrail above Jackson Lake’s dam. “Those rules aren’t there to cheat you out of fun. They’re there to keep you safe,” she said.
Why had it taken Paula so long to believe it? Lying about the abortion had only made a mess of things and caused tremendous pain. Yet the thought of telling David still scared her to the point of trembling.
Help me, God. I don’t want to lose him. I love him so much, but I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done.
She wished God would magically take her fears away. That He’d make her do what was right, just like Linn was doing. But maybe she wasn’t half the person Linn was.
She knew now that she’d have to tell the Morgans too. They would find out eventually anyway, and she’d rather they hear it from her. She wiped her eyes and rested her head in the cradle of her arms. She didn’t know how she was going to get through it or how she was going to say it, but they deserved to know the truth. At least most of it.