Breathless (5 page)

“Let me get those for you.” He bent to the floor, scooping books as he went. “It was only an hour ago I found out the Pendleton Library upstairs was named for your family.”

“Mainly for my mom. This was her church before my parents moved to Savannah a few years ago.” Lydia followed him to the second floor. “In fact, the library was her dream. It's the closest thing to a public library Lincolnville has.”

They entered the large room. Bookshelves lined two walls. The far wall held fiction, the other non-fiction.

“Terry Blackstock, Beverly Lewis, Rick Warren.” Matthew read the authors of some of the books as he set them on a table holding a flat panel television. “These will be of great use. Thank you, Ms. Frederickson.”

“Please, it's Lydia.”

“And I'm Matthew.” He held his hand out to her.

An inferno rushed through her frame as his hand touched hers. Salty drops inched over her lashes. She darted to the ladies room in the outer hall. How could she have fallen apart like that? After she dabbed her cheeks, she ran water over her face. If the new minister didn't believe she was crazy before, this should leave little doubt. When she opened the door, Matthew was leaning on the opposite wall with a leg bent, the lower tip of a cowboy boot showed below his black slacks. He wore an anxious look on his face.

“Are you all right?” He led her back to the library.

“I'm sorry.” She patted at her eyes. “I can't seem to control my emotions lately. Some days I feel I'm losing my mind.”

“Another phone call last night?” He motioned for her to sit in a rolling chair.

She obliged. “It only reminds me I'm alone.”

“You might be physically alone, but God is always with you.” Matthew rose. “Let me get you some water.”

He returned from the outer hallway holding a red cup. Matthew knelt in front of her. Her fingers trembled as his hand covered hers, helping her when she raised the drink to her lips.

“It's a hard time of year for me. Not sleeping well isn't helping.” Lydia battled to contain her sobs while she spoke, but her words came out like broken hiccups.

“I imagine. Riley mentioned you received another call.” He tugged a couple tissues from a nearby box and handed it to her.

Lydia nodded. “I wish they would stop, at least until after Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Matthew pulled up a brown cushioned ottoman, and sat facing her, their knees barely touching.

“The anniversary of Justin's death. I could probably handle it during a different time of year.” She couldn't comprehend why she felt the eagerness to explain.

“There's no guarantee on that. These calls are meant to upset you. It doesn't matter when they're occurring.”

“The worst part is it's probably somebody I know, a friend.” Icy claws crept up her spine. “How can someone do this to another person?”

“I can't explain why people do the things they do. I wish sometimes God would interfere with the actions of man.” Matthew paused. “But whenever you reach out for Him, God is there for you. And so are your friends. I know you and I just met, but you can trust me, Lydia.”

“I appreciate that.” Lydia let out a half laugh. “The funny part is we met after the calls started. You really are the only person I
can
trust.”

****

Matthew recalled the rush that went through him when he first saw Lydia standing in the outer office. It was a mixture of euphoria with anxiety. Once she realized he was the cop who shot her brother, hatred would fill those beautiful eyes.

As he approached, he realized without high heels she went to his shoulders. Again her alluring perfume captivated him. The caricature of himself floating behind her once again bounced into his mind. Her emotional display a few days before told him she was more than an egotistical beauty queen. Inside lived a sensitive person who harbored deep feelings for the people she loved.

Upstairs he listened as she talked, asking her questions, prodding her to continue. He could hear the mourning and loss with each word. The tremor in her tone and the shakiness of her hands showed the depths of her pain. He spent over an hour listening to her convey her story of her husband's life and his death. When she had finished, tranquility came over her face.

When they returned to the lower floor, he realized he wanted more time with her. He longed to hear about her life, not only her husband, but everything, including her relationship with her brother. Had they been close when he died? Was she aware of the circumstances of his death? A force gathered in him to know all there was.

“I came by to drop off the books and for another reason as well,” she said. “I hope you can forgive me for the way I acted the other day.”

“I'm not sure what you mean.” Matthew worked to erase the image of himself drifting helplessly behind that wonderful scent.

“I behaved badly after the service, and at my home. I was rude with how I treated you, and I'm sorry.”

He placed a hand over his heart when it fluttered as he looked into her eyes. “First, I don't recall you acting badly at all. Second, you have more on your mind at the moment than fawning over some new stranger.” Matthew gave her a grin, hoping the levity would make her mood improve.

“Matthew,” Phyllis interrupted. “James Newman is on line two. This is the third call since you went upstairs. He's calling about his son.”

“I'll be there after I walk Ms. Frederickson to her car. Duty calls.” Matthew handed Lydia a business card. “Feel free to call anytime of the day or night.”

“Thanks, I will.” She waved to Phyllis before walking out the front double-hung doors with him.

Once back inside, Matthew watched as Lydia drove from the parking lot. There was something fascinating yet remote about her.

“Excuse me,” Phyllis hollered as Matthew continued to stare out the side window. “She's a very pretty lady, but if you keep Mr. Newman holding any longer, you may find yourself officiating at his funeral before the week is out.”

 

 

 

 

 

5

 

Lydia forced herself from bed. Sheryl and Warren would be arriving in less than an hour. She thanked God for n
o phone calls the night before, allowing the much needed sleep required for the day ahead.
After she showered, her friends arrived. They came with food, determined to make her eat before they left for the cemetery. Comfort warmed her as she thought of her two mother hens.

She had taken her last bite of a muffin when Riley knocked. His expression was drawn and tired. Lydia sometimes forgot how her husband's death affected him. They had been close, and the last few weeks of Justin's life, Riley spent almost as much time at his bedside as Lydia.

“Thank you for coming.”

She pecked his cheek before gathering a bouquet of white lilies from the table. They sparkled in the sunlight bouncing in from the sliding glass doors. Riley took her elbow as the four somberly crawled into his dark blue Oldsmobile Cutlass. There were only a few times a year Riley changed from his uniform. Today, he wore a black jacket over a white shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans. His black hat lay on the dash board of the car.

Riley embraced her clenched fist when he drove through the double wrought-iron gates.

Lydia stared out at the faded stones. During the Civil War, everything in Lincolnville had been destroyed except the cemetery and a few of the plantations. The old mausoleums still stood with their original marble announcing the families lying within. Most visitors thought the town was named for the President, but in actuality, it was named for the first minister who had arrived in the early 1800's.

Lydia's mind eventually wandered to Justin. The pain she'd endured during his long illness taught her she couldn't prevent certain events from occurring. Generally, she had a comfortable life. While she still grieved for Justin, she'd gotten past his death. At least she had until the awful phone calls and an unannounced attraction for another man brought guilt. She prayed that after today things would return to normal.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the large cement mausoleum. Pendleton was engraved across the top of the large stone pillar. It held the remains of Lydia's grandparents. Justin's headstone stood thirty feet away under a large oak tree. A mixed arrangement of flowers sat at the base of his stone. Under the vase was a manila envelope.

“What do you suppose is in this?” Sheryl lifted it from the ground. “Maybe someone left a picture of themselves with Justin?”

Lydia's heart warmed at the kind gesture. However, anxiety rose when Riley handled the envelope at its edges.

Using a pen, he slid the flap open and pulled out a photograph of Matthew and Lydia walking from the church to her car. The word “mine” sprawled across Lydia's figure.

The air went out of her and she became lightheaded. Her hands trembled and the large stones hazed in her view. Her gaze darted, determined to locate her menace. He had to be watching, otherwise where would the fun be? Anger rushed in at this maniac for picking this particular day to be vicious. She felt Sheryl's arm support her and Riley's hand on her back as he shielded her.

“Maybe we should take her home,” Warren said.

“No. She can do this,” Sheryl spoke into Lydia's ear. “For Justin.”

Lydia leaned her head against Sheryl's, refocusing on the day and why she was there. “Thank you,” she said, determined to hold herself together.

A deep breath of oxygen filled her lungs as she knelt at her husband's gravesite. Yes, she could do this, and would do it for Justin. There's no way she'd let some maniac chase her away.

She placed the flowers she'd been holding beside the grave marker. Kissing her palm, she held it against his name on the cold white stone. Finally she stood, her chin up and head proud, not giving this phantom the satisfaction of thinking he'd won.

 

****

 

Matthew's jaw clenched shut. Who would play such a cruel prank?

“Looks like it was taken with the camera on a cell.” Riley pulled the photograph out of a file he brought in, laying it on the desk. “I guess I'm hoping you saw something, a car maybe, and might not have considered it important then.”

Matthew glanced from the picture to Riley. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes. He sat in the same brown swivel chair as a few days before. His loose tie draped off to the side, and his clothes hung rumpled over his body.

“After your call I went over the scenario in my mind.” Matthew seethed at seeing the word scrawled upon Lydia's picture. “There wasn't anyone hanging around, whether in a car or not, that I remember. Any prints?”

“Mine and Sheryl's. The envelope came from an office supply store in Chattanooga.” Riley pulled more information from the file. “No surprise they supply to mostly local businesses in Chattanooga.”

“What is the surprise?” Matthew replaced the picture in the envelope before sitting in the high back chair behind the desk. “There has to be more or you wouldn't have driven across town. Small as it is, Lincolnville does have telephones.”

“They also supply the Sheriff's Office here in Lincolnville.” Riley stood and walked to the window. His shoulders folded as he leaned against the sill. “It would have been easy to get in, grab one or two without being noticed. We keep the place open when we're out on a call.”

“Why go to that trouble when you can as easily buy one at Wal-Mart?”

“It only makes sense it's someone from my office.” Riley brushed a hand down his face. “A person I work with and see every day.”

“You got anyone in mind?”

“No. It's not like there's a lot to choose from. We're just a small satellite office. The few who work for me are people I trust. Even those staffed at the main station in Ringgold are all good people.”

“That's tough.” Matthew rose. “I have a feeling that's not what's really bothering you.”

Riley sighed and turned. His eyes held distress. “How do I tell Lydia that the people she should be able to trust the most might actually be the people she should trust the least?”

 

****

 

The next day, Matthew stood at Lydia's door, wishing he had called her instead. He had to fight this feeling of trepidation. Just thinking about Charlie's picture on Lydia's mantle upset his stomach. However, as her minister, he had to console her and make sure she was doing well.

“Well good morning, Pastor.” Sheryl smiled with a quirk at the side of her mouth as she greeted him. “Fancy stumbling across you at the door this early.”

“I heard what happened yesterday and thought I'd stop by to check on Ms. Frederickson.”

“Ms. Frederickson. So formal. I'd be inclined to believe you'd at least be on a first name basis after you walked her to her car the other day.” Sheryl ushered him in. “From the implications of that snapshot, she's the whore of Babylon.” Her curt tone told him of her concern and anger.

As hard as Matthew tried to ignore it, he glanced at the picture of Charlie Westerman. He swore the young man's eyes glared back at him.

“Let the man at least have some coffee before you attack him.” Lydia rounded the corner.

His heart stopped when he saw her. Even with all the anxiety she must be feeling, she still captured his breath.

“Riley told me about the photograph,” Matthew said, grateful they moved to a room without any pictures. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I've calmed a bit since I first saw the thing.” She offered him a cup of coffee which he accepted. “I'm trying to work myself up to being just angry today.”

White painted walls held stainless steel appliances giving the kitchen a contemporary look. Wood flooring traveled over the entire kitchen and dining room area. Two high stools with white cushioned seats sat scooted from underneath the white granite island.

“Because of the picture, Riley's taking the calls more seriously than just a prank.” Matthew pulled another seat out from under the island. He lifted the cup of coffee to his lips. The steam formed a wet mask across his nose.

“I'm not sure about that. It did bother me though.” Her voice lowered. “Sheryl spent the night. I guess she figured if the caller tried anything, she could protect me.”

“Who needs a nice-looking sheriff when you have me?” Sheryl looped her arm through Lydia's as they stood against the countertop. It contrasted nicely with the deep, rich brown cupboards.

Lydia started when a knock at the door sounded. Irritation grew inside Matthew. No one should be afraid in their own home.

Matthew rose. “You ladies sit; I'll get that.” He forced himself not to look at Charlie as he went to answer the door.

Warren held a bag marked Betty's Bakery as he stood on the stoop. Matthew inhaled the aroma of warm blueberries.

“Pastor, what are you doing here?” Warren made his way into the foyer. “Nothing's happened to Lydia, has it?”

“No, she's inside having coffee. Sheryl's with her. I believe she'll be happy for you to join us.”

“Hello, ladies.” Warren gave Lydia a kiss on the cheek then proceeded to do the same for Sheryl. “I didn't realize the pastor would be here. I only bought three muffins.” He took the stool Matthew had previously occupied.

“That's okay. I ate breakfast not too long ago,” Matthew replied. “One of the perks of living at Anna's. I only stopped by to check on Lydia.”

“Well I'm fine, and I've decided not to let this guy bother me anymore,” she said. “I've been feeling out of control, and I'm not going to let that happen anymore either. The anniversary passed, and I've decided to move forward.” Lydia gave a slight nod of determination.

“I agree,” Warren said. “That's why I've decided to take your advice and accept that position I've been offered in Seattle.”

“I'm glad.” Lydia patted him on the shoulder. “We can't let this creep ruin either of our lives.”

“What position is that?” Matthew leaned against the inner doorjamb of the kitchen.

“I'll be working for A Higher Calling in Seattle. It's a large computer graphics company that specializes in Christian work.”

“He'll even be in charge of his own department.” Pride carried in Sheryl's voice.

“I'm somewhat familiar with it. According to a weekly news magazine, it's one of the top places to work in this country.” If Matthew remembered correctly, computer geeks were supposed to be ninety-pound weaklings. Warren was anything but. His large frame spoke of a weightlifter with his large biceps, broad shoulders, and small waist. He would do well with the workout nuts in Seattle.

“I still hate to leave with everything that's happening,” Warren said. “If you want, I'll stay.”

Expectation shone over Warren's face. His expression said he hoped she would ask him to stay. No one else appeared to realize it but Matthew.

“No you will not.” Lydia placed her hands on her hips. “You will go, enjoy your new job, and meet yourself that special someone to spend the rest of your life with.”

“Seattle's a nice city,” Matthew said. “I have a friend out there who runs a local church. I'll get you his number so you can contact him. He'll make you feel welcome.”

“That's settled,” Lydia said with a smile. “You have a new job and possibly already a new place to worship. When do you need to leave?”

“In four weeks. They want the position filled as soon as possible.” While Warren tried to stay light, Matthew caught the pain behind his smile.

As much as he hated to, Matthew knew he had to leave. Again, he felt that pang of wanting to spend more time with Lydia. But he tucked away those feelings. “Speaking of jobs, if I don't get back to work, I'll be joining Warren in Seattle. I hope to see you all Sunday. And best of luck to you Warren. I wish we could have had more time to get better acquainted.” Matthew extended his hand. Warren returned a limp handshake catching Matthew off guard considering Warren's stature.

“Let me walk you out.” Lydia followed Mathew to the front door. “Thank you for coming by.”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right.” He placed his finger on the side of her chin. She looked exquisite. At first Lydia appeared receptive to his touch, but a steely look jumped into her eyes.

Why did he get his signals so mixed up when it came to her? He could usually read other people well, particularly the opposite sex. Before his Christian days, he'd had lots of practice. But his appraisal of Lydia proved difficult. She acted receptive to his touch, but then flinched as if burned by it.

“I'm happy for Warren.” Lydia glanced over her shoulder. “We've been friends since grade school. It's going to be hard once he goes.”

“I'm sorry, but it does sound like an excellent opportunity for him.”

“Yes it is. I'll miss him, that's all.”

Matthew rode to work with a feeling of distress for Warren. Only one word described his expression, misery. Warren had probably imagined Lydia would fling her arms over his neck, proclaiming how much she loved him and beg him to stay. It was hard to find out the woman you adored didn't feel the same. Matthew's gut lurched as he recalled how she recoiled from his touch.

“God,” he prayed. “Please help me fight these feelings I seem to have for this woman, because it's only a matter of time until I discover what Warren's going through.”

 

****

 

Lydia stood in the living-room, trying to get her senses back once Matthew left. His touch had been warm against her face. It felt pleasant having the touch of masculine skin against her own. But when Lydia caught sight of Justin's photograph, she jerked away. Matthew had to notice it. She gulped in a deep breath and returned to her two friends' stares.

“Well,” Sheryl said.

“Well what?” Lydia struggled to hide the tremor moving through her body.