Entertaining Angels (23 page)

There’d been no guarantee that he’d make it past the farm team, but he’d wanted to try. It might have been his only chance for a bit of fame and glory.

“Your parents must have been proud,” Daniel said.

“My mom and grandparents were, although sports never did hold that much importance in their lives. I suspect my dad would have felt differently, but he died during Operation Desert Storm when I was just a kid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Craig shrugged. “It was tough. He was in special ops and died a hero.”

“So what happened?” Daniel asked. “Why’d you give it up?”

“During the last game of the season, I tore my rotator cuff, so the decision to play pro ball or go to college was taken from me.”

“That sounds like a serious injury, but I wouldn’t think it would have sidelined you permanently.”

“I couldn’t play for at least a year.” The memories, the disappointment, barged into the room—front and center. And while he wanted to take his pain and run from Daniel’s intense gaze, he decided to level with the man instead, to make the admission out loud. “I thought life couldn’t get any worse than that, but I was wrong. Two weeks later, my granddad was diagnosed with liver disease, and I realized just how bad it could get.”

“You two must have been close.”

“We were. My granddad was a missionary, and when my
dad died, he gave it all up and came home to be with my mom and me. So, yeah, we were very close. He stepped up to the plate and became the father I’d been missing.”

“So you decided to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps?”

Craig studied the half-eaten pizza on his plate, but was no longer the least bit hungry. “I promised God that if Granddad was spared, I would forget about baseball and go to the seminary.”

“So I assume your grandfather pulled through.”

Craig nodded. “They found a liver donor just in time. During surgery, they lost him but managed to bring him back. The doctors called the whole thing a miracle.”

“Which left you with a promise to keep.”

A big one.

Daniel grew momentarily silent, pensive.

For two guys who’d been hungry and looking forward to wolfing down an extra-large pizza, Craig noted that neither of them seemed to be focused on food.

“Can I ask you something, Pastor?”

There went the P-word again, scratching against him like an umpire’s whisk broom on home plate. Craig hadn’t gotten used to the title yet, and it felt especially rough coming from a man with whom he’d just opened up and spilled out his heart. Okay, so he hadn’t actually spilled anything, he’d just oozed a little.

“Sure,” Craig said. “Shoot.”

“Maybe I ought to explain something first.” Daniel glanced down at his pizza, then back again. “I’ve loved criminal law since my very first class at Cal Western, and I’d planned to work for the district attorney, prosecuting criminals rather than defending them. I’d wanted to make a difference in this world, or at least in the community.”

Craig didn’t respond, didn’t need to.

“I’m one of the top defense lawyers in the state. And one thing that makes me so successful is that I prepare a mental
prosecution of the case before I tackle the defense strategy. There have been times when I won a case that I should have lost. Times when I knew exactly why the prosecuting attorney lost the case and where they went wrong. And each time that happened, I’d tell myself that I was just doing my job—and doing it well. That everyone deserves the right to a fair trial, and that someone had to make sure those rights were protected. But the truth is that I’m working for the wrong side. You know what I mean? Some people were born to be defense attorneys, but I don’t believe I was one of them.”

Craig nodded. It didn’t take much of an imagination to know exactly how Daniel felt about playing for the wrong team.

“Did you ever let someone else make a decision for you?” Daniel asked. “One that affected the rest of your life?”

“No, not in that sense.” But Fate or God had thrown Craig a curve, and he’d found himself sitting on the bench and hoping he’d get a chance to show his stuff while wondering if he’d be able to pull it off when push came to shove.

“You know,” Daniel said, “when you were telling me about your father’s death, I was able to relate. I lost both of my parents in a boating accident when I was a freshman in high school. And I had to live in foster care for a while, which was fine. I had a good home and was encouraged to go to college. But I missed my parents, especially my father. I can’t explain the hole his death left in my life or the need I had to fill it.”

He didn’t have to. Craig knew the hole he was talking about, yet couldn’t explain it, either.

“When I married Cassandra, there was a part of me that yearned for a father figure. And I thought I found one in her dad.”

“Did you?”

“I thought so. And I sold out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Prosecuting attorneys don’t make the same kind of money as good defense lawyers make. And Cassandra was used to
having the finest things, a nice house, stylish clothes … I loved her, and I wanted to be able to provide everything she’d been used to, all she deserved. But I wasn’t bringing a whole lot to the table, other than a law degree and a slew of student loans. And now, after more than a quarter century of marriage, my job is really grinding on me.”

Craig had no idea how he’d feel about his life in twenty-five years. Better? Resigned?

Happy didn’t seem possible.

“Here’s where my question comes in,” Daniel said.

Craig’s gaze met the older man’s, and he realized the attorney was looking at him as though he held the keys to the universe and beyond. It was all he could do to hope and pray that he wouldn’t fail the first congregant to actually come to him with a dilemma.

“I’ve had some troubling cases in the past,” Daniel said, “but I’m working on one now that’s bothering me more than the others ever did, and I’m really struggling with it.”

Craig understood attorney-client privilege and knew Daniel couldn’t—and wouldn’t—say more. But if this case was different from the others he’d had to defend and causing him to struggle, Craig wondered if it was the one he’d heard about on the news the other night, one that was ugly—and very high profile. A wealthy man was accused of murdering a child. It was the kind of case that made a person, particularly a parent, challenge everything that was good and right in the world.

Daniel bowed his head, the weight of his dilemma apparent. Then he looked up, his gaze snagging Craig’s as though he had the answer. “You have no idea how badly I’d like to recuse myself from this case.”

“You probably ought to follow your heart.”

“Is that what you’d do?”

In Daniel’s case?

“I think I’d have to.”

But in his own?

The answer wasn’t so easy. Craig would love to pursue a different career.

One that didn’t break a promise to God.

Late Wednesday afternoon, Kristy stood at the kitchen counter, preparing meatloaf, baked potatoes, and green beans for dinner.

She glanced at the clock on the oven, realizing she would have to call the Maguires soon and ask them to send Jason home.

Kristy liked Jillian Maguire, Tommy’s mother, although they didn’t get a chance to actually chat very often. Jillian and her kids moved into the neighborhood last Christmas. At the time, she’d been newly divorced and, according to her, things had looked pretty bleak until Mac came along. The couple fell in love and were married shortly thereafter.

There were times when Kristy wished someone would sweep into her life and help her put the pieces back together again. But she’d never been a dreamer.

The doorbell sounded, and she quickly rinsed her hands, then dried them on the dish towel that lay on the counter. Gram hadn’t slept very well last night and was napping—something she seemed to do a lot lately. And so Kristy didn’t want to wake her.

She swung open the door only to find Pastor Craig standing on the stoop.

He wore a navy blue sports jacket, a cream-colored dress shirt, and a conservative tie. Yet his hair was stylishly mussed, making the man appear to be a bit of a contradiction.

And an appealing one at that.

“I’m early today. There’s a special service at the church tonight and since …” His voice trailed and lowered. “Well, your grandmother is sensitive about some things, and I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten about her. Is this a bad time for me to stop in?”

“No, not at all.” She stepped aside, letting him in.

A wisp of bay and musk followed him into the living room, and she had to make a conscious effort not to inhale his scent until it seeped into every pore of her body.

She wasn’t comfortable with her misplaced attraction to Craig Houston, a man who was far too wholesome for a woman like her.

“You know,” she said, suddenly realizing she’d answered the door and welcomed him in while on auto pilot, “Gram might be napping. At least, she was the last time I looked in on her. I’ll check again.”

“Don’t disturb her if she’s sleeping.”

“I won’t, but dinner will be ready soon.”

“If you find that she’s still asleep, and it’s all right with you, I could wait a few minutes to see if she wakes up on her own.”

“Sure.” Kristy pointed toward the sofa. “Have a seat while I take a peek.”

As Craig settled on the cushion nearest the arm rest, Kristy went to Gram’s room, only to see that her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling in slumber.

So she returned to the living room and sat on the edge of the recliner, feeling a bit stiff and awkward. “She’s still resting. Can I get you something to drink? Juice maybe? Coffee?”

“No, thank you.” He placed his left hand on the armrest. It was a well-formed hand. Solid, strong and masculine.

“So how did the great American shopping expedition go?” he asked.

She arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“For wedding dresses. I heard you and Shana went out again yesterday.”

“Oh, yes.” Kristy had asked Renee to babysit a couple of hours while the two friends went to the mall. “We found the perfect dress. Didn’t she mention anything?”

“No. She’s not home very often, and neither am I. So our paths don’t cross very often. And when they do, I’ve noticed that she’s pretty quiet.”

“She wasn’t always like that,” Kristy said. “She used to be a lot more talkative. And she had a great sense of humor.”

“What caused the change?”

“I’m not sure. She became a lot more introspective during our last year in high school.”

Just days before Brad’s party, which had become one of three significant markers along Kristy’s internal timeline, Kristy had first noted Shana’s introspection and commented. But her friend had clammed up, refusing to discuss it. Then came the night of the party and Gram’s first of several strokes, and Kristy’s life became pretty complicated for a while.

A long while.

“Daniel mentioned that Shana had leukemia. Could that have contributed to her personality change?”

“No, she seemed to pull through that without any adverse effects, physically or emotionally.”

“The Delacourts said you were very supportive of their daughter during that time.”

“I owed her that much. When I first moved in with my grandmother, I found it hard to find acceptance with my classmates. Kids can be cruel, and sometimes their parents can be worse. But Shana reached out to me when the others didn’t, and I appreciated her kindness. So when she got sick, it seemed only fair to reciprocate.” Kristy glanced at the handsome minister, saw him listening intently, felt something in his gaze. Something warm and heart-spinning.

“I can see how your bond would run deep.”

“Shana became an even better friend after her illness, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I guess it’s really none of my business, but there’s an aura of … I don’t know … sadness about her. I first noticed it in the expression she wore in that portrait that hangs in the Delacourts’ living room. After she came home from Australia and I met her in person, it struck me even harder.”

Kristy sat back in the chair, relaxing a bit. Letting down
her guard. Studying the minister in much the same way he’d been studying her. “I didn’t realize you were so observant.”

“I didn’t used to be, but someone once told me that things weren’t always what they appeared. And that if I wanted to make a difference, I would need to look close and to dig deep.”

“And you want to make a difference in Shana’s life?”

Craig shrugged. “Not on a conscious level. I can’t really explain it. But I sense there’s trouble between her and her mother, and I feel sorry for them both.”

“There’s definitely some tension there, but I’m not sure that I can help you figure it out. Shana’s my best friend, although she’s not as open with me as she once was.”

“Why is that?”

“I suppose there are two possible reasons.”

“What are they?”

“She grew up and became more independent while she’s been away at college.”

“I’m sure that’s true. What’s the second reason?”

“The Delacourts have always tried to provide Shana with a picture-perfect life, but it’s not easy living on a glass shelf in a glass house. And sometimes there are just as many consequences to being submissive as there are to being rebellious.”

Craig seemed to ponder her answer.

“Why the interest in Shana?” she asked.

“It’s not just her, per se. It’s her parents, too. They’ve been nice to me, and I sense that I might be able to help. But if you think I’m being too inquisitive and butting into something that’s none of my business, I’ll back off.”

He was asking her opinion?

Her guard slipped another notch. “The Delacourts have been good to me over the years, too, even though I’ve always had a strong feeling that they would have preferred having Shana choose a different best friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You got that vibe from them? Even as a child?”

Kristy shrugged. “I’m used to being different.”

“How so?”

“Even as a kid, I was considered a wild-child. A bad seed. And as hard as I strived to be like the kids with two parents, I just wasn’t.”