Chapter Seventeen

Mickelle had a quiet and relaxing morning. She saw the live-in housekeeper, Mrs. Mertz, several times as she went about tidying the kitchen and was more than happy to put down her book when the woman approached. The older lady was tall and strong-looking, with short, gray-streaked blond hair and a pinched face that was considerably more appealing when she smiled.

“Mr. Wolfe tells me you’ll be moving in,” she said a bit hesitantly. “Does this mean you won’t need my services any longer?”

“Not at all,” Mickelle assured her. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin with a house this size. I’m happy to have help. Tell me, which of the empty rooms do you think would be best for my boys? They’ll want their own, of course, but I’ll want them close enough to be able to check on them.”

“You’ll be in the master bedroom?” asked Mrs. Mertz.

Mickelle felt herself color, though she certainly had done nothing of which to be ashamed. “Yes. Eventually. When Dam—Mr. Wolfe and I are married.”

“There are two more rooms in the wing that Mr. Wolfe and Belle share that might work for your boys, although you might not want them that close.”

“Oh, I do.” Mickelle grinned, and then admitted sheepishly, “I’m a bit overprotective right now. You see, I lost my husband and . . .”

“And then last night.” The older woman shook her head, her pinched face abruptly full of sympathy. “You’ll be safe here.” She hesitated, twisting the dusting cloth in her hands, before adding in a much softer voice, “My husband died two years ago. So I . . . I know what it’s like.”

“What did he . . .? Do you mind me asking?”

Mrs. Mertz gave a wry smile. “Old age. He was fifteen years older than me. He smoked, too, which never helped anyone.” She sighed. “I miss him a lot. It helps, finding the gospel.”

“You’re a member?”

“Not yet.”

“But you’re thinking about becoming one? Please, if you don’t mind, I’d love to hear about it. I’m a bit bored just lying here on this couch.”

Mrs. Mertz nodded but didn’t sit. “I was working for Mr. Wolfe when he joined more than a year ago. Thought he was nuts when he said he was going to quit smoking cold turkey. I didn’t think he could do it. But he did. Then I saw the changes in him and . . . well, it’s taken some time, but I’m seeing the missionaries now.” She grimaced as though she had confided too much. “I’d best get back to my job.” She nodded at Mickelle. “If you need anything, just holler.”

Mickelle watched her leave. The old woman had been extremely reticent the only other time Mickelle had seen her, and Damon had mentioned that she was a bit stern and occasionally short with the children. When she’d asked why he kept her on, he’d replied, “Because I don’t think she has anywhere else to go. I’ve offered to pay her return flight to Anchorage, if that is what she wants, and two months’ severance, but she says she likes it here. She was only coming temporarily to help us get adjusted, but now . . .” He shrugged. “Well, whatever else, she’s a very good housekeeper. Besides, I’m kind of used to her being around.”

Mickelle smiled to herself, suspecting that Mrs. Mertz was a wonderful person, using gruffness and a sour face to hide the fear and insecurity eating at her heart. Maybe now she’ll see there’s nothing to fear except the fear itself.

Mickelle laughed softly. She wasn’t afraid, not anymore. At least not at this minute. Oh, she felt violated, as victims did when their homes were broken into, but she could deal with her attacker’s motives of greed and revenge a whole lot better believing it was Colton than if it had been someone she didn’t know. The police would catch him eventually, and that would be the end of it.

Meanwhile, if Colton came back as promised, he would be in for a very big surprise.

An urge to explore came upon Mickelle, to immerse herself in the house that would become her home with Damon, but she was so exhausted from her ordeal that she contented herself with surveying her immediate surroundings. As always, she marveled at the immensity of the conjoined kitchen and family rooms. The entire top floor of her own house could fit in this space with room to spare. Besides the standard dishwasher, refrigerator, and stove, the kitchen boasted numerous oak cabinets and cupboards, two ovens, a large upright freezer, a garbage compactor, a long eating bar, and blue-flecked counters that went on forever. The floor was fine blue ceramic tile, and over head was a high ceiling with expensive lighting. A long banquet table with padded chairs graced the far end part of the kitchen, where a large alcove had been built for that purpose, though she knew there was also a formal dining room.

What a joy it was going to be to cook in such a kitchen. She had thought it many times before, but now it was a reality. If she didn’t feel so weak, she would begin right that minute.

The family room was equally impressive, dominated by huge curtainless, floor-to-ceiling windows. Through these she could see the outdoor pool, the indoor pool house, and the tip of the tennis court beyond. The green lawn was carefully manicured with pink dogwood trees that still carried a few of their fall leaves. The built-in wall unit completely covered another wall, reaching high to the thick, elaborate molding that ran around the tall ceiling. Did people really live like this? Apparently, she was about to find out.

Mickelle took a sip from the glass of water Damon had set on the elegantly carved coffee table, digging her bare toes in the plush carpet that felt like a caress to her skin. She sighed as she snuggled more comfortably into the blue leather sofa. Despite the aches of her body, her heart sang with the joy of her love.

The soft beeping of the phone on the coffee table called her attention. “Hello?” she answered.

“Hi honey,” Damon said, “how are you feeling?”

“Better. Well, still tired. But it’s a bit boring just sitting here. What time does the cook come?”

“Not until about five, but she may not be much company. She’s a little peeved with me for missing so many of her dinners the past month or so.”

“When you’ve been with me and the kids.”

“Yeah.” He sounded rueful. “I told her to leave it in the refrigerator or stove, and I always ate the food for breakfast and took it for lunch as well. Somehow that didn’t seem to comfort her.”

“I’ll talk to her about a schedule,” Mickelle offered. “But I really feel odd having someone do what I can very well do myself.”

“At least wait until you’re better before making drastic changes, okay? Besides, if you’re going back to school, cooking on the weekends might be enough.”

“You have a point.”

“I just don’t want you to overdo things. I know only too well what that’s like.”

Mickelle had another, more intimate reason for keeping the services of the cook. She wasn’t getting any younger, and if she and Damon wanted to have their own child, perhaps a little girl as she had always dreamed, they would have to try for a baby soon after the wedding. And she knew from experience that she wouldn’t feel up to doing anything while pregnant.

“Besides,” Damon was saying, “you might want to get involved in something else. Maybe charity work. Who knows?”

Mickelle had ideas in that direction as well. With Damon’s resources she could do something for the community, perhaps for children like Jennie Anne, or others who didn’t have even an aunt to care for them. She and Damon could donate to others who were helping children as well. They could pray for opportunities to present themselves.

The voice at the other end of the phone had grown quiet. “What?” she asked, wondering what she had missed.

“I’ve been talking to the police, and I also checked out the bank where your insurance funds were kept. It’s all gone.”

“Gone?” She had expected as much, but the reality was unsettling.

“Yes. Apparently Colton’s name was on the account also. There’s nothing we can do about it because the bank has a paper saying that you approved him. Did you sign anything like that?”

There was a sinking feeling in her heart. “I signed some papers Colton brought. They were bank papers, but I only scanned them. They seemed straightforward enough.”

“It was probably embedded in small print or in legal jargon that takes normal people a dictionary and few hours’ time to understand.” Damon’s voice was gentle. “I’m really sorry.”

“Did the police find him yet?”

“No. His apartment is deserted. They think he’s skipped the state.”

With my ring and my money, Mickelle thought bitterly.

“Don’t worry,” Damon consoled her. “It’s not your fault. He has practice at this sort of thing. He tells people what they want to hear. Like all that stuff he told you about his missionary service. He’s not even a member, so he didn’t go on a mission.”

“Was he even married?”

“No.”

“Then the story about his twins drowning—it was all a lie.”

“Sounds like it.”

“He must have known that would touch me because of Brionney’s twins.”

“In the notebook you guys found, he had written a note about using that story. Not to mention a lot of Mormon terms and such. He’d been planning this for weeks. Probably already knew he could get you your money.”

“He must have had inside help.”

“Possibly. Or he broke in and took the records.”

Mickelle gripped the phone with increasing anger. Looking back, there had been signs that she had neglected to see. The fact that Colton knew Belle had only a father before she’d said anything, that he always seemed to know about all her friends, that he remembered details of things she mentioned only in passing.

She shifted the portable phone to her other ear. “He cried while telling me that story about the twins, but all along it was something he probably read in the paper.” Mickelle felt a growing fury toward the man who had so callously used their story for his own gain. “I bet he never lost his father, either.”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to find out?”

“No, it doesn’t matter.” She did wish she had kicked Colton harder last night, or that she’d remembered the pepper spray he had given her, still in her purse—if indeed there was actual pepper spray in the bottle. Of course, she wouldn’t have been able to reach it during the attack anyway.

Mickelle took a deep breath. “When are you coming home?”

“Right now. I’m going to pick some stuff up at the office, and then I’ll drive straight there.”

“Good, because there’s something else I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“Can’t you give me a hint?”

She smiled, though he couldn’t see her. “Okay . . . it’s about a nursery.”

She expected him to laugh, and perhaps to tease, but instead he was so quiet that she thought the line had gone dead. “Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want another child?”

“It’s not that. It’s . . . Mickelle I don’t know how to tell you this. My wife . . . well, her cancer came back at the end of her pregnancy with Belle. Because of the pregnancy she had to delay her treatments. We knew it was the right thing to do for the baby, but I was so upset that I had surgery so it wouldn’t happen again. Another baby, I mean. I couldn’t bear for her to die because of me.”

“Did it make a difference?” For some reason that was important to Mickelle. “Her delaying the treatments, I mean.”

“The doctor couldn’t tell us for sure, but I think so. She fought hard, but three years later she was dead. I never thought about the surgery since, not even when I joined the Church. At the time I believed it was right for Charlotte. Another baby might have killed her much earlier.” He heaved a long sigh. “Not that it mattered much. She and I were never really together after Belle was born. She was too sick.”

“I’m sorry,” Mickelle said in a small voice.

“No, I’m sorry. This just brings home the fact that you never know how your decisions will affect your future.”

Mickelle didn’t reply. She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach and couldn’t find her breath. So many of her recent daydreams had focused on a child with Damon, despite her almost thirty-seven years and the gap in her children’s ages. Now she was being forced to reevaluate everything.

“Kelle,” Damon’s voice was beseeching, “does it matter that much?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I just don’t know.”

Damon was silent. “Maybe it can be reversed. All I know is that I love you.”

“I love you, too.” But Mickelle felt suddenly distant and a little numb. Would loving Damon force her to give up her dreams? Hadn’t she had enough of that with Riley?

There was no easy answer.

“I’ll be home soon,” he said. “We’ll talk then.”

“I’ll be here.” Mickelle hung up the phone. From her comfortable place on the couch, she stared out the window to the sky beyond.