Thirteen

Anita stared at the antique trunk in the living room. She’d thought about its contents all day at work, and now that Tyler had fallen asleep, the urge to sort through the contents plagued her again. With her arms hanging limply at her side, she stood over it. Do I honestly want to torment myself with what’s inside? Slowly she eased to the floor, debating, fighting, yet feeling compelled to open the trunk—for inside was her Bible.

She wanted the joy of walking with the Lord again, but she hadn’t gotten over her anger yet. One voice invited her to bask in His love. A darker voice whispered a rededication to God promised an abusive relationship with Him—she’d be hurt time and time again. God didn’t really care.

In her heart she knew differently. She well remembered His promises and the joy of allowing God to lead her life. The past few weeks had knocked the wind out of her. She needed the very thing she feared the most.

Anita lifted the leather strap and released the trunk lid, but she still couldn’t bring herself to lift the lid. After last night’s humiliating display of temper and tears, she realized something in her life had to change. Her emotions were out of control. Everything had become unmanageable: her position at Good Hope, her relationship with her son, Regan’s commitment to Tyler, her mother’s insistent demands to participate in church functions, Craig Harringer’s threats.

The inability to handle day-to-day stress frightened her. How well Anita remembered her first panic attack right after Vince had died. The symptoms sent alarming sensations through her body—racing heartbeat, terror, nausea, difficulty in breathing, and a foreboding about death. Last night she’d feared the old sensations would creep back into her life. Tonight she vowed to do whatever was needed to put her life in order, but courage failed her.

Could God be the answer? Did He really want her to return to Him? So many questions and no answers. How could she ever accept Vince’s death had been a part of God’s divine plan?

Her hands grasped the trunk lid and lifted. Inside, near the bottom of the stacks of sympathy cards, newspaper clippings, and letters of condolence, rested the Bible her parents had presented to Vince and her on their wedding day. Their name and wedding date had been engraved in gold at the bottom right hand corner of the dark green leather binding. Vince and Anita had been faithful to Bible study and prayer all of their married lives. She’d stopped the day of his accident.

Her fingers brushed across the grainy cover, and she recalled the many times Vince had opened its pages and read aloud. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear his voice, the words spoken in reverence and love. He began reading passages to their unborn child and continued after Tyler’s birth.

Anita leafed through the Bible until she came to Isaiah. This was one of Vince’s favorite books. The pages were full of his notes in the margins, and many underlined verses in various colors of ink revealed how the words had spoken to him at different times. Her gaze fell on chapter 61.

Before they were married, Vince had memorized this passage. He’d been a victim of child abuse at the hands of alcoholic parents, and he’d spent many years in and out of foster homes. During this time of his life, he found the Lord while living with a Christian family. Isaiah 61 helped him to love his birth parents and encourage them to seek medical help. Vince had beaten the odds to live a healthy and productive life through Jesus Christ.

Anita had forgotten this aspect of Vince’s life until now. He never doubted God or the power of His Word. No matter what happened to him, Vince always claimed the Creator’s love and unfailing promises. She could almost hear him. . . Anita sucked in a breath. Vince wouldn’t have wanted her to hold onto this bitterness. For that matter, neither did God.

Oh, Heavenly Father, I don’t want to deny You, but there’s so much I don’t understand. I used to believe Your love surpassed all boundaries, but now my heart feels as if it’s been shattered into irreparable pieces. Nothing I do eases the pain. I really need peace and reassurance. I’m afraid of losing Tyler, being alone, and countless other things that seem to haunt me day and night.

Lowering her gaze to the page, she began to read chapter 61, her attention focused on words in the first verse: “He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from the darkness for the prisoners.”

A sob escaped her throat, and she hastily blinked back the tears. Her prayer had barely been uttered and already God had answered. On she read: “To provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.”

Anita clung to each word, as though the Lord Jesus sat beside her on the floor and held her hand as He spoke: “They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ancient cities.”

“Oh, Lord. Can you rebuild this ruin? Can you restore me to the woman I once was?” Her mother’s words echoed around the room. Honey, when we don’t understand what God is doing in our lives, we have to trust His unfailing love.

She had no choice but to put her faith and trust back into the Father God who offered her His perfect love. She hated not knowing why Vince died, and hated it even more that she might never learn why, but her questions must go unanswered. My ways are not your ways. Someday she could ask God why He took Vince from her and the son who needed him, but for now all of Anita’s ways of reclaiming joy and purpose in her life had failed. She needed God to guide her. Cradling her face in her hands, she prayed for forgiveness and asked Him to heal her broken heart.

❧

Regan couldn’t get Anita off his mind. Yesterday, he’d wanted to call her, but a nudging at his mind stopped him each time he reached for the phone. Saturday, Tyler had a scheduled soccer game, one in which the boys would travel to a nearby town. Regan wanted to ask Anita and Tyler to ride with him, but in light of Tuesday night he hesitated.

Taking a quick glimpse at his watch, Regan saw the hour had arrived to meet with deputy fire investigator David Steiner, assigned to arson cases in the area. A knock at his office door confirmed the matter. Within five minutes, David, a tall stern-faced man, finished with pleasantries and channeled the conversation toward the warehouse fire.

“Forced entry.” David kept his attention on the investigation report. His bushy eyebrows narrowed. “What has the owner said? Did he indicate any enemies?”

“He called yesterday and offered complete cooperation.”

“Any reason to believe he might be a suspect?” David asked.

“A few.” Regan pulled out a list he’d started on Craig. “Let me run through this, and you can tell me what you think.”

Once Regan finished reading, David made a few notes. The smell of stale tobacco odors surrounded the investigator. “A hothead who needs money, huh?”

“I’d like to nail him.”

“Sounds personal.”

“It is. Fire’s always personal, and he threatened a good friend of mine and her son.”

“Ordinarily I’d say stick to the indicators, except his past pushes my suspicions to the top,” David said. “Let’s head to the warehouse. I’m ready to proceed with the investigation.”

At the site, David and Regan walked the perimeters and searched through all the areas destroyed by the fire. They found nothing.

“I want to see the area of forced entry,” David announced. “Like you, I don’t understand why the burglar alarm didn’t go off as soon as someone entered the office, unless our firebug had a key and already knew the code.”

“You know my thoughts on the matter,” Regan said. This part of the warehouse received minimal damage, and he believed that aspect would be to the investigator’s advantage.

David flipped on his camcorder, aiming the camera on the broken glass where the arsonist supposedly climbed through the office window from outside the building. “Nothing looks out of the ordinary here. The glass is basically on the inside of the office. Regan, let’s follow the path from the window to the closet door where our man disconnected the wires to the burglar and fire alarm systems.”

Clearly, the knob and lock had been pried open. “The markings on the crowbar match those on the door knob and lock,” Regan said.

David studied the door. “Once the window had been shattered, the burglar alarm should have gone off.”

An idea tugged at Regan’s mind. “I have an idea.”

The camera followed him to the closet where he examined the damaged door and lock. He opened it slowly, remembering a peculiar impression on the inside knob. His suspicions were correct. “The knob on the inside has the indentation of one blow, as though the arsonist was nervous. I’m thinking he hit this without thinking.”

David turned off the camcorder. “Now I’m thinking like you. Do you suppose this is an inside job? Our man could have unlocked the front door, stepped inside to the closet, unlocked it, disconnected the wires, then made the closet look like forced entry. He meant to tamper with the outer knob but accidentally hit the inner one. Once he made the closet look like forced entry, he set the fire in the warehouse, walked back to the front office, locked up, then broke the glass. That would answer why the burglar alarm never went off.”

“Guess we can ask Harringer a few questions—like who else has a key. If he didn’t set the fire, my bet is he knows who did. After all, he offered his full cooperation.”

❧

Anita held her breath while she waited for her mother to answer the phone. “Mom?” This conversation would be tough. She’d never been one who easily confessed to wrongdoing.

“Hi, Honey. You doing okay? Sound a bit tired.”

“I’m fine, but I do have something to tell you.”

“Has that Harringer been harassing you or Tyler again? Because if he is, I’m heading to the police department and—”

“Hold it, Mom. This is nothing bad. In fact, you’ll be very pleased.”

“Is it about you and Regan?”

Anita laughed despite her nervousness. She took a sip of her diet cola, letting the cool bubbles momentarily distract her. “No, this is better.” When her mother didn’t reply, Anita ventured forward. “I made a rededication to Jesus Christ.”

She heard the sobs. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I know you are, and I really appreciate the many times you’ve prayed for me. I’ve been horrible, and I know it.”

“You were simply walking through the wilderness. Have you told Tyler?”

“Yes, I told him this morning before dropping him off at school. My sweet little boy said he’d prayed for Jesus to live in his heart too—and asked Him to take away his nightmares.”

“I bet he was so excited. We’ve prayed together about you.”

“I figured as much. In fact he said so. Today was the first time the two of us have prayed together since Vince died. I don’t want to ever lose that closeness to my son again.”

She heard her mom sniff. “What about Regan?”

“That’s another reason why I called. Would you mind if I’m a few minutes late picking up Tyler this afternoon? I wanted to run by Regan’s office after school.”

“Do I mind? Does the sun come up in the east? The only reason why Tyler doesn’t live here is because his mother believes in independence.”

“Great, Mom. Thanks. I love you.” Hanging up the phone, she noted a serious churning in the pit of her stomach. Getting sick was not on her list of accomplishments for the day. She simply needed to tell Regan about her spiritual renewal and apologize for past mistakes—a whole bunch of them.

After school, Anita drove by the fire marshal’s office. She didn’t know whether to pray he wouldn’t be there or hope his easygoing manner helped tell him she’d renewed her faith. Sitting in her car and thinking about the rehearsed speech only caused her heart to pound harder. With a sigh, she realized she couldn’t wait forever. Snatching up her purse, she headed toward the one-story brick building.

Anita hadn’t been to the fire marshal’s office before, and a bit of familiarity would have helped ground her trembling legs. She stepped into Regan’s office and waited while his secretary, an older woman with a kindly smile, phoned him.

“Mrs. Todd.” She replaced the receiver. “Mr. Moore is in a meeting, but it’s about to conclude if you’d like to wait.”

The fluttering against her chest mounted, and she feared the secretary might hear. “I can. . .for a little while.” Picking up a book about single parenting she’d found in the church library during her lunch break, Anita elected to read, or rather try to. She quickly found out her comprehension level was a fraction above zero.

Just when she’d decided to write a note and leave, the office door opened, and two men walked out with Regan. Craig Harringer looked none too pleased.

“I want you to get to the bottom of this.” He shook his finger at Regan and the other man. “Torched! I won’t have it. This fire has already put me into financial ruin, and now I learn someone set it.” He whirled around and saw Anita. “There’s your first suspect. She’s had it in for me since the day I tried to politely pick up my daughter from school.”

Pure rage emitted from Anita’s flesh. With all the things this man had done, how dare he accuse her of anything as demeaning as arson? Calm down. God is right here with you. He knows the unfairness here. She toyed with the idea of responding or simply ignoring him and his nasty accusation.

“So where were you the night of the fire?” Craig’s voice mounted with each word.

“Harringer.” Regan’s voice rang sharp and forceful.

Anita held up her hand in defense. “I have an alibi. But since you are so quick to accuse, where were you?”

Craig clenched his fists. “I was having dinner with my parents.” He stepped closer. “I know what you’ve done, Miss Lily White Church Lady, and I intend to prove it.”