Chapter 46

Daniel pressed one hand against the cold cement wall in the basement storeroom, head down.

“Is it true?” Laurie’s voice barely stirred the musty air.

He swallowed against the lump growing in his throat and nodded.

The slump spread through her shoulders and spine. Laurie lowered her forehead to the table. “Why did you hide this from me?”

Daniel balled his fingers into a fist and pressed it against the wall. He pulled out a chair. “Laurie, I realize any excuse won’t be worth a plugged nickel to you—but I hope you’ll listen, anyway.”

She remained motionless, head down.

Daniel braced himself against the chair back, pushing one foot behind him for strength. “I’m not the same person I was then.”

Her shoulders convulsed and her head lifted. Tears stained both cheeks. “Johnny said you were a teetotaler.”

“I am”—he pushed fingers through his hair—“I was­.” Daniel turned and pressed a hand against his forehead.

“Which is it?”

Daniel sat next to her, his heart pounding. Reaching a hand into his pocket, he withdrew the temperance coin and ran a thumb across its face before setting it in front of her. “I have carried this since I was a boy. They handed them out at school to anyone who would sign the temperance pledge.”

“What happened?”

Daniel pushed up from the chair and walked across the floor, returning to his place by the wall. “In college, I was terrified of presenting in front of my professors and my classmates. My roommate—an older student—told me to take a swig of whiskey to calm my nerves. At first that’s all it was. I told myself it was fine, since I was using it medicinally. I even measured it precisely.”

He cleared his throat. “Other students were using opium and heroin—all sorts of things. As pharmacy students, we had access to countless medications.”

Laurie traced a circle on the tabletop with her fingernail. “You should have known better.”

He sighed. “I did. But sometimes it’s just easier to lie to yourself.”

The room grew still, except for the sound of Laurie’s ragged breaths, each one pulling at Daniel’s soul.

“It’s a long stretch from a swig of whiskey to drunkenness and assault.”

“Not as far as you’d think.” The long-hidden memories burned in his mind. “Once I started, it was a quick slide into drinking with my buddies after classes. First it was just Friday nights—a reward for surviving the week. It rapidly became an every night thing. I was already drinking in the morning before class to ease my nerves. Pretty soon it was all around the clock.”

“You’re a liar like the rest.” Laurie squeezed her fingers together. “You made me think you were a decent man.”

“I never made you think anything.” Daniel’s heart recoiled at his own words. He dropped his head. “No, you’re right. I pretended to be something I wasn’t.” He pushed his hands against his face. “You’ll never know how much I regret that. How much I regret everything in my life.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to think well of me. I wanted to be the kind of man you deserve.”

Her gaze faltered and she looked downward. “I don’t deserve anything.”

Her words ruined any hope of staying away. “You do.” He reached for Laurie’s hands, but she pulled free.

“Tell me about the girl.” Her words stung like alcohol on an open wound.

Daniel turned toward the table, not able to face the tears glittering on the edges of Laurie’s downcast eyes. No more secrets.

“My roommate had been dating a nursing student—Molly. When we’d head out to the jazz clubs in downtown Seattle, she’d bring along some girlfriends.” The memories pulled him along like a riptide.

“One night, he spent most of the evening dancing with one of the other girls and, well, Molly made it clear that—that she was more interested in me.” Daniel dug in his pocket for a handkerchief and mopped it across his brow.

Laurie leaned back against the basement wall, her face dark and unreadable. Her arms clenched around her midsection, as if the story made her ill. “What happened?”

“I walked her home and she invited me in.” Daniel shook his head, the memory refusing to fade with time. “I never should have gone. It was foolish. Molly insisted she was in love with me—claimed she had been for some time but was too afraid to tell me. It was flattering. Heady stuff, really. I got carried away.” He cleared his throat. “She seemed to welcome my attentions, but then—wisely—she began to push me away. I didn’t want to leave. I was hopelessly drunk—and she probably was, too. I didn’t know what I was doing. I got frustrated, angry even. My roommate had boasted about his conquests; I just assumed . . . ”

Laurie turned her face away.

Daniel plowed forward, determined to finish the story out before he lost his nerve. “I called her some names, I think. Tried to steal another kiss—that sort of thing. I’m sure it was quite frightening for her. And heartbreaking. This man that she thought she’d loved . . . ” Daniel’s throat constricted. “I’d never done anything like that before. I didn’t go to classes the next day. I went straight over to apologize, but her roommates wouldn’t even let me through the front gate. I never saw Molly again.”

Laurie frowned. “What about the assault charge?”

Daniel shook his head. “I think my former roommate was behind that. Maybe that’s the story she told him, I don’t know. I’m certain I never struck her or threatened her in any way—not that it excuses anything.”

“But they put you on probation?”

“I didn’t contest it.” Daniel pressed his lips together, the silence broken only by footsteps from the store above. “I swore I’d never drink again.”

Several more moments passed before Laurie spoke. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes filled.

“The guilt ate at me until I walked away from school, entirely. I sank deeper into the bottle. My life spiraled downward. I might have ended up on Skid Road with the other drunks if it hadn’t been for a couple of my classmates. Apparently they’d been praying for me, even before the incident with Molly. Their minister told me about the hospital program.”

Laurie’s head jerked upward. “Like the one you were telling me about?”

“Yes.” He lifted the temperance coin from the table and rolled it between his fingers. “It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. But, even better than giving up drink, it’s where I really came to understand God. I’d never really grasped the depth of His forgiveness, the love my gran had always tried to teach me.” He lifted the coin and held it between his finger and thumb. “This coin means more to me now than it did to me as a child. It’s more than a simple pledge. It’s a reminder of how easily I can fail unless I rely on God’s strength.”

Laurie pressed her hands against her chest, a shadow crossing her face.

He pushed the coin back into his pocket and laid his hands on the table, leaning forward and meeting Laurie’s eye. “I don’t expect you to trust me again. I’m not even sure that I want you to.”

Her brows pulled down and her lips tightened.

His throat grew raw. “I still deal with the desire to drink. Every day I have to choose.” Pushing to his feet, he tore his gaze away, the sight of her blue eyes threatening to render him mute. “It’s better that you know the truth about me and walk away now.” Daniel’s throat closed until he had to choke out the words. “Because I can’t bear the idea that I might fail you.”

After spending a long, miserable day at home, Laurie pulled on her coat and headed for Amelia’s house. She took off her hat and let the blustery wind muss her short locks. She hadn’t even bothered to put any waves in it the past few days—just let it fall where it wished. Why not? It matched her life.

Every time she built her house of cards, the men in her life reached in and snatched her supports, sending it crashing down again. Laurie balled her hands and shoved them into her coat pockets.

I don’t expect you to trust me again. I’m not even sure I want you to.

Amelia remained the one constant in her life, and at this moment, Laurie wanted to fall into her embrace. Her friend opened the door before Laurie’s hand reached the knocker. “I saw you coming up the walk. How is your father?”

“He’s doing better. His recovery astounded the doctors.” She let her friend guide her inside. “He might be coming home by the end of the week.”

A tiny crease appeared between Amelia’s eyes. “So soon?”

Laurie sank down on a kitchen chair. “I don’t know what will happen. The doctor says he shouldn’t drink at all, but how am I supposed to prevent it?”

Amelia pulled out the chair across from Laurie and perched on the very edge. “Something else is bothering you. I can see it in your face.”

Laurie spilled the whole gruesome story. “I don’t know who to trust anymore. It seems like everyone has some horrible secret just waiting to jump out and pounce on me.”

Amelia walked to the stove and poured two cups of tea from the pot simmering on the stove. “You can’t expect people to be perfect. Remember what Pastor Yoder always says—that we all sin and fall short of the glory of God?” She brought the cups to the table and set one in front of Laurie.

Laurie traced the pattern of the tablecloth with one finger. “I don’t expect perfection. But I would like to be able to trust someone.” She pulled her cup close, watching the steam form above the cup like morning mist over the water. “I wanted to talk to Johnny about this hospital program that Daniel suggested. Do you know where he is today?”

“Well, that’s actually a bit of good news.” Amelia sipped her tea. “He told me he was going out on his final run tonight.”

“Johnny’s going tonight?” With all the agony over Daniel, Laurie had forgotten about Samuel’s plans. Her cup clattered down onto the saucer. “He said he was on graveyard shift.”

“I think he traded with someone.” Amelia’s head tilted to the side. “Laurie, you’ve known about the rumrunning longer than I have. Why are you so shocked?”

Pushing up to her feet, Laurie’s heart quickened. “He wasn’t supposed to go tonight.” She hurried to the door, grabbing her jacket and hat from the coat tree.

Amelia followed. “Why? What’s happening tonight?”

Laurie jammed the hat down over her hair and reached for the door handle.

Amelia grabbed her elbow. “Tell me!”

“Samuel’s going to be waiting for them.”