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“That’s what I was hoping to hear,” David said to his retreating back.
He wasn’t sure if Aaron heard or not. But he figured it didn’t really matter.
He only hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in telling the young man as much as he had. So much was at stake.
But he’d done what he needed to do.
And that was all he could ask of himself. To be true to his heart, to his intuition and inner guidance. One way or another, that would have to be enough.
MARTHA HAD LUNCH with Phyllis on Monday. Other than from a distance at Tim’s game on Saturday and at church on Sunday, she hadn’t seen David Marks since their shift at the boardinghouse the previous Tuesday night. They had another shift scheduled for that evening.
Which was why she’d called Phyllis and asked to meet her for lunch.
“What’s up?” Phyllis asked, depositing a cafeteria tray with two salads and two glasses of iced tea on the semiprivate picnic table Martha had held for them underneath a tree on the grassy Montford campus commons. Though most of the tables were filled with students, the closest one was several yards away.
“I’m losing my mind,” Martha said unceremoniously, pulling her salad and drink off the tray and opening the plastic cover.
Phyllis sat down and did the same. “I figured as much. People tend to call shrinks when they think they’re losing their minds.”
“I call you for all sorts of things,” Martha retorted. “I called to let you know about Tim’s game on Saturday.”
Phyllis had come, too. Though her twins were still far too young to play, she was a Little League baseball fanatic and, when she’d first come to Shelter Valley, had often attended games with Martha. The two women had been introduced by Becca, whose husband had hired Phyllis at the university.
“I know, and that’s why I’m sure something’s wrong,” Phyllis said, her gaze sober but kind as she stopped what she was doing to look at her friend. “We had plenty of time to talk on Saturday and you never said a word.”
Tuesday had still been three days off at that point and Martha had hoped she’d be cured by then.
Or that Ellen’s attacker would be found and she wouldn’t have to do another surveillance shift.
Or that Pastor David Marks would be transferred…
“Aren’t you hot in that outfit?” Martha asked her friend. While Martha wore a short-sleeved sweater and slacks, Phyllis had on heels, hose, a silk blouse, tailored pants and a jacket to match. She always looked the epitome of professional.
“Not in the shade,” Phyllis said, squeezing honey-mustard dressing from an oblong foil packet. “Now quit avoiding the topic.”
“Which is?” Martha squeezed her own packet of dressing.
“Why you think you’re losing your mind.”
“Can we eat first?”
After a solemn perusal of Martha’s face, Phyllis nodded. She asked about Tim’s celebration dinner on Saturday. Martha and Tim had driven into Phoenix with several members of the team for burgers, and Martha gave Phyllis a quick rundown of the highlights. Then, at Martha’s prompting, Phyllis spent the rest of the meal regaling her with the antics of Clarissa and Calvin, Phyllis’s almost-three-year-old twins. The children had been conceived by complete mistake during an afternoon of unexpected passion by two people who hardly knew and barely liked each other. They’d become the brightest lights in their parents’ lives. Matt and Phyllis had turned out to be perfect for each other, finding what Phyllis had once described as “completion” in their love. Something like that was a fluke, though.
If Martha didn’t care about her friend so much, she’d be envious. Instead, she was afraid for her, the happiness she felt. It put her at such risk. If she were to lose it…
“Okay, time’s up. Now tell me.” Phyllis dropped her plastic fork on what was left of the salad in front of her, added her napkin and closed the plastic container.
Students, other professors, walked by in the distance, but no one bothered the two women sitting there. Martha knew it was a sign of respect for faculty, acknowledging that they could be having a business lunch. But she craved an interruption even while she desperately needed advice.
“I’m not getting involved with a man again.”
“Okay.” Phyllis raised her eyebrows, cocked her head. “I don’t think you’re in a position to predict the next forty years of your life, but, for now, okay.”
“I mean it,” Martha said. “My father sure was no role model. My husband betrayed me. The preacher I grew up with betrayed us all. I just can’t trust a man anymore. It would be stupid.”
“Maybe.”
Phyllis was deeply in love with her husband. Martha understood that. And she knew Phyllis’s perception was clouded by that love. As it should be.
