The Runaway Pastor's Wife (5 page)

“Who knows, Dad,” Jeremy answered. “She’s been
gone all afternoon. She had Gran pick us up ’cause she didn’t know when she’d
be back.”

“How about Max? Is he home?”

“He’s upstairs in his room. He just got home a
few minutes ago. If you ask me, he’s spending way too much time with that
girlfriend of his, Dad.”

David scratched his head, his expression
exaggerated. “Funny thing—I don’t remember asking you, but thanks for the
information, Jeremy.” He faked a punch to his son’s stomach then grabbed him in
a bear hug.

“Daaaaa-d!” shrieked Jeremy as he fought his
father’s tickling hands.

Jessie’s eyes widened with delight. “Daddy,
guess what? Gran took us to PJ’s after school and I got sprinkles.”

“You did? Now since when has my little angel
liked sprinkles?” David asked as he hoisted up his daughter to ride on his
back.

“Daddy! You know I
always
get
sprinkles on my donuts.”

“Oh, that’s right—I just forgot. And I bet your
big brother here got a chocolate éclair, am I right?” said father to daughter
over his shoulder, their foreheads touching.

She cupped her free hand over his ear and whispered,
“Yes, he
always
gets éclairs. Dull, dull, dull, don’t you think?”

“Now, Jess, on that I must disagree. Jeremy is
lots of things but dull is not one of them. Hey, did Gran cook dinner? What’s
that I smell?” he said, sniffing the air like an animated coon dog. “What’s she
got cooking in there?” His eyebrows danced up and down, immediately mimicked by
his daughter.

As David, Jessie and Jeremy plowed through the
kitchen door, Caroline lifted a steaming dish from the oven. “Well, I suppose I
could lie and tell you I’ve been cooking all day long, but it’s a little hard
to lie to my own son. Especially since he’s a man of the cloth. And especially
in front of his own children.”

“What’s a man of the cloth?” Jessie asked.

“A man who sells tablecloths door to door.”

“Daaa—d,” Jeremy rolled his eyes. “That’s okay.
We didn’t really want to know anyway.”

“It’s just an odd little name for a minister,”
Caroline answered, shaking her head at the antics of her grown son. “And no, I
have no idea how such an expression came to be.”

“Hi, Mom,” David smiled then kissed his mother
on the cheek with a lingering hug. Looking into his mother’s face was like
looking in a mirror, David thought. They shared the same broad McGregor smile.
A tinge of melancholy swept over him. Annie used to laugh when she described
his lopsided grin as “deliciously mischievous.” He hadn’t heard her laughter in
a long time. He pushed the thought away, studying his mother’s kind face again.
The shape of her eyes and her smile was identical to his, only the noses
differed. David had the nose of all the McGregor men—“prominent,” they liked to
call it. His hair, once sandy blond, was now heavily peppered with the same
white hair that adorned his mother’s head.

Too many years in the ministry.
He’d
earned each and every one of those gray hairs.

Caroline stepped back and took a good look at
her son as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder. “Mighty long hug for an
old lady like me, David. Are you all right? You look exhausted.”

“Oh, I’m fine, Mom. Really. Just never seems to
be enough hours in the day to get it all done. That’s all. Annie’s going to be
late tonight?”

Caroline finished setting the table. “Apparently
so. She called this morning and asked if I could pick up the kids and come over
until you got home. She didn’t say how late she’d be. But she left dinner ready
to put in the oven, so I expect she knew she’d be pretty late.”

He felt his mother’s eyes on him, no doubt
surveying the weariness that seemed to constantly engulf him these days.

“David, go upstairs and get comfortable. Wash up
and relax for a few minutes. Come on down when you’re ready and we’ll eat then.
No rush.”

“Mom, I’m forty-one years old,” he laughed, “and
you’re still telling me what to do.”

“You’re right. Guilty as charged. A man never
outgrows his need for his mother. Now just do what I tell you or dinner will
get cold.”

“Some things never change,” he moaned for her
benefit. He dragged himself up the stairs. Reaching the landing, he looked into
Max’s room, noticing his oldest son working at the computer on his desk.

“Hey, sport—how’s it going?” he asked, knocking
gently on the open door.

“Wait. Give me a sec. Let’s see. You
look
like my father. You
sound
like my father, but hey,” Max paused, glancing
at his bedside alarm clock, “it’s way too early for
my
dad to be home.
So exactly who
are
you?”

“Very funny. Fact is, I actually have the entire
evening home, thank you very much. I’m tempted to lock the doors so no one can
leave. I want you guys all to myself tonight,” David yawned as he sprawled
across Max’s bed. “Just wish your mother was home.”

“I know. I’m kinda surprised she’s not home yet.
She’s always home for dinner. Must have gotten delayed or something.

“So how’s school going?” David asked, his
eyelids heavy as his head sunk into Max’s pillow.

“I got an A plus on my physics exam today. Not
bad, eh?”

David sat up to give his son a high five.
“That’s great! Physics is brutal. You must have inherited your mother’s knack
for academic genius. I’m impressed! Good for you, Max.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t believe how hard I
studied for it. Totally out of character for me.”

Smiling, David stood up and tousled his son’s
dark hair. “Totally
just
like you. I’m really proud of you.”

“Is it time to eat yet? I’m starving.”

“Pretty soon. I’m going to take a couple minutes
to clean up and get comfortable.” David was halfway to the master bedroom,
already kicking off his shoes. He tossed his briefcase on the chair and sat
down on the side of the bed. Pulling off his golf shirt, he fell back across
the white comforter.

Don’t shut your eyes or you’ll be snoring with
your next breath
.
He knew without question he could sleep
for a month if given the chance.
I’ve
got
to start running
again. Get back in shape. I’m not 101 . . . yet.

Turning his head slightly to his left, he
noticed an ivory envelope leaning against the pillow sham. He smiled lazily.
A
note from Annie. It’s been a long time.
He reached for the envelope and was
surprised to find no trace of her familiar cologne.

“Daddy, will you play some Go Fish with me
before dinner?” Jessie yelled up the stairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute, pumpkin,” David
answered through a yawn as he opened the letter. His thoughts drifted back to
other notes Annie had left him over the years.

Surprise!

The kids are spending the night
at your parents’ house,

We have
7:00
reservations at Giovanni’s,

and I have you all to myself

for the next 24 glorious hours!

But his favorite had been the note he found
tucked inside his briefcase one Friday morning several years ago. The poetry
was corny, but the message was unforgettable.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

The Love Boat sails at seven,

AND I’M KIDNAPPING YOU!!!

Within moments,
Annie had suddenly
appeared, whisking him off on a cruise for seven of the most wonderful days and
nights of his life. He could almost feel the sea breeze against his face as he
began to read.

Dear
David,

It’s
not like me to leave this note for you instead of explaining myself face to
face. We were once able to talk about everything, good or bad. It was one of
the first things that attracted me to you—your ability to be real and open and
honest, straightforward. But I can’t face you this time. Not that you could
spare the time to listen anyway.

I have
to get away for a while. I’m on the verge of losing my mind and don’t know what
else to do. I’ve been hanging on by one tiny, single thread, and now the thread
has unraveled.

By the
time you read this I’ll be on a plane. I will not tell you where I’m going
because I don’t want you coming after me. I’ve made all the necessary
arrangements, and there is no reason for you to worry. I will call you when I’m
ready to talk.  Just pray for me.

I know
Caroline will be anxious to help out with the kids, and it will be good for her
to stay busy. The anniversary of your father’s death is coming up, if you
recall. She needs to be close to you and the kids right now.

I have
no idea how long I’ll be gone. I need time to sort everything out. There’s a
malignancy of bitterness and jealousy and even hatred toward the church that is
devouring me. I blame the church, I blame you, and I blame God for taking you
away from me and the kids, and I don’t know what to do with all that. The guilt
of that realization alone has almost destroyed me.

I don’t
even know who you are anymore. The man I married disappeared and I can’t find
him anywhere. As heartless as it may sound, I believe Caroline and I have much
in common—we’re
both
widows.

 I
can’t live like this anymore, David. I can’t and I won’t.

I will
leave it entirely up to you as what to tell Max, Jessie, Jeremy, Caroline, or
anyone else.

I still
love you, David McGregor. I just can’t be with you right now.

Annie

CHAPTER 3

Houston
,
Texas

“Come on . . . come
on . . . come to papa, baby . . . all right!”

As the dimpled ball plunked into the cup on the
eighteenth green, the tall, muscular golfer raised his arms in triumphant
victory. “Yesss! Yes, yes, yesss!” His boisterous celebration echoed across the
clear
Texas
sky as
he strutted like a peacock, his putter held high like the scepter of a crowned
king.

“Ah, get outta here, Dean! You call that skill?”
his buddy teased. “You always were the luckiest son of a—”

“Now, now, Jimmy—don’t go playing the bad sport
on me. You know raw talent when you see it. And I’ll wager, my man, that you’ve
never witnessed finer golf anywhere than what you’ve witnessed here today, pro
tour notwithstanding. Am I right?” Michael laughed, wrapping his free arm
around his friend with a hearty grasp.

Jimmy Peterson shook his head in disbelief as he
pulled off his leather glove. Stuffing it into his pocket, he continued the
banter. “Yeah, you don’t play so
bad for an old man. In fact, you move
pretty well for someone on the geriatric tour.”

Michael cupped his hands over his heart,
grimacing playfully through his broad smile. “Now you’re getting personal. I’m
deeply, deeply hurt. That’s exactly what I’m talking about—you are the epitome
of a sore loser. You better pull yourself together or the bouncer of this elite
country club may have to kick your sorry butt out of here!”

“Are you kidding? This club
pays
me just
to play here. I’m a draw for them,” Jimmy answered with a swagger. “They figure
celebrities like me will bring in membership by the droves. You play your cards
right and they might even let
you
join one of these days.”

Michael steered their cart to the clubhouse
entrance then braked and slid out from behind the wheel. “Oh Jimmy, my man, you
really are a pro, you know that? One hundred percent, Class A professional
bull! As you recall I’m on the board
of this prestigious club. Don’t
make me keep reminding you about that, son,” he teased. “C’mon. Lunch is on
me.”

They made their way into the casual grill that
overlooked the plush greens of the golf course at this exclusive
Houston
country club. Membership here was strictly a matter of having the right name,
the right credentials, and of course, an adequate bank account. Both Michael
and Jimmy had the name recognition to play these fairways any time.

A first round draft pick out of college, Michael
played first base for the Houston Astros for a long and successful career
before retiring to pursue other interests. When reality convinced him his pro
ball days were nearing an end, he chose to go out in style while he still had
the chance.

Early in his career with the Astros, Michael met
and married Amelia Thomas, the socialite daughter of Elliot Thomas,
United
States
congressman and
Texas
billionaire. The Thomas family
had roots dating back to the earliest settlers of this rugged land and was
known throughout the country.