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When I was back home in Iowa, I had time to reflect and pray about my ability to be loved and whether or not I was worthy of it. I didn’t hear any voice boom from the heavens or whispers in the wind, but I did get an answer. I had come across my father’s well-worn Bible and begun flipping through the pages, noticing all the underlined passages and the notes in the margins. A particular verse caught my eye, probably because it was highlighted and stood out from the rest of his scribbles.
“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.” John 15:9 ESV
The passage reminded me of my own father, who loved me beyond a shadow of a doubt, sacrificing everything for me when I was growing up. I had been so focused on what I didn’t have at the time that I hadn’t appreciated what I did have until it was too late. After my moment of clarity, I had a good cry, followed by an overwhelming sense of peace that wrapped around me like a hug. Right then, I knew I was worthy, and my fear of loving Leanna and her not loving me back had vanished.
Chapter eighteen
Leanna
BreakfastatSebatian’shousewas a crazy affair. With 14 people gathered around the table and chattering loudly over one another, it was hard to make heads or tails of anything that was being said. Eleven adults and three children running around to clean up the mess, grabbing the bags, and loading the vehicles for our vacation reminded me of the movie “Home Alone.”
“Where’s Kevin?” I yelled, referencing the holiday flick. All of the adults laughed at my joke, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as funny if our mother hadn’t done a head count to ensure everyone was accounted for.
Brody and Ansel rode with Sebastian and Marybeth, while the older children rode with Grandpa and Grandma. Daphne hitched a ride with Callie, Callum, and little Bella Rae. Daphne loves to dote on the baby in our group. That left Carter and me to ride up alone.
For the first half hour, Carter and I listened to music, singing along at the top of our lungs. Most of that time was spent laughing because neither of us could hold a tune. We were having a good time until a call came through and interrupted the song.
“It’s Patrick,” Carter informs me after checking the caller ID.
“Hey, Patrick. Are you guys on your way?”
“We are, but I wanted to give you a heads up about something new we learned regarding Mark Jenkins,” Patrick says.
“Go ahead. Leanna’s here with me, and you’re on speaker.”
“West River Memorial Hospital filed a report against Mark Jenkins last week. He was disturbing the peace, ranting and raving about the quality of care in the city and how everyone in the medical profession was inept. His outbursts were getting so out of control that they called the cops to escort him off the premises. In the report that was filed, Mark Jenkins had mentioned that…wait, let me read it verbatim for you. Ah, here it is. ‘The EMTs are worthless, especially the females. Leanna let my father die, and now she needs to pay.’”
Carter grabs my hand and holds it, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “Did they arrest him?”
I hear Patrick’s sigh loud and clear through the hands-free system. “No. The cop on duty was able to calm him down. Since the man had just lost his father and was visibly upset, the hospital didn’t want to press charges. He was belligerent, not violent. You might want to note that the funeral was two days before everything began happening.”
“Thanks for the warning, Patrick,” I tell him.
“Don’t thank me. I’m just the messenger. Savannah is the one who dug a little deeper and found this information.”
“Well, thank you both; to Savannah for finding it and to you for delivering it. I guess we’ll see you soon.”
“Just remember, Leanna. Once we’re up there, you don’t know us, okay? And don’t let all of this get to you. Have fun, try to relax, and enjoy yourself. You let us worry about everything else.”
Carter clears his throat and says, “Thanks, Patrick. I’ll touch base with you guys via encrypted communications once we get settled in and get everything set up.”
The line goes dead, and Carter looks over at me. “Are you all right?”
“As good as can be expected, all things considered. Do you think it could be Mark?” I worry at my lower lip. Carter notices my nervous habit and lets go of my hand to gently tug my lip from between my teeth.
“He is our most likely suspect based on the information we have available to us. But the odds of him knowing where you’ll be this week are slim to none,” he says.
“But they aren’t zero. There have been times I felt like I was being watched this past week. It’s possible he had been watching me.” When Carter’s eyes widen at my statement, I realize I had never told him that small, but important piece of information. “Before you get upset, I didn’t see anyone that looked out of the ordinary, so I thought I was just being paranoid. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”
“I get it. Did you feel like you were being watched before or after the bad stuff started happening?”
“Before and after. Once while I was at the fire station and once when I was changing my first flat tire.”
He bobs his head a few times, digesting what I’ve told him. “You probably were. My guess is that whoever was watching you at the fire station followed you home. They were probably watching you change the tire, looking for an opportunity to do further harm. It was smart you waited to do it in broad daylight.”
I stare out the window and zone out for a minute, formulating my next thought. “You said Mark is the most likely suspect, but it’s possible that it might be Melissa and that the acts of vandalism were coincidentally similar to what Mark had done in the past. I know the slashed tires and red paint were things that Mark had done to his employers, but what about the dead flowers? That doesn’t seem like a revenge act, but more like a scorned lover.”
“You think Melissa is a scorned lover?” he says in disgust, laughing in a way that implies he is anything but amused. “I promise you, Leanna, that she was not the one scorned in our relationship. She’s the one who left without so much as a word. I guess that’s not entirely accurate. She left me a note on the coffee table. Instead of seeing my fiancé when I got home from my deployment, I found a ‘Dear John’ letter and an empty apartment.”
