Forbidden Falls (7 page)

“Some yellow, some white, some blue. Can you work with that?”

She made a face. “How were you planning to use them? One blue bathroom, one yellow, white trim? Because that’s very boring.”

He looked at her long fingernails. Today was hot pink with sparkles. He looked down—she was wearing tennis shoes, but somehow he knew her toes matched her nails. Against his better judgment he said, “Use it any way you like.”

“Good deal. Do you have any masking tape? Any caulking?”

“Yes, why?”

“Straight lines and edges. Just out of curiosity, how’d you settle on those colors?”

“They were on sale,” he said.

She shifted her weight to one foot. “Have you ever actually had a church before?”

“Not exactly.”

“Listen, I’ll make something work with those colors. Even though they’re pretty dorky colors….”

He had a fleeting thought that this was not the woman to be lecturing him about good taste in anything. “Aren’t you the least bit afraid I might take that personally? Maybe I’m sensitive about the colors I picked.”

“No,” she said, tilting her head and peering at him. “You’re not gay.”

He smiled at her. “You sure about that?”

And she smiled, her hands on her hips. “Obviously. Or you’d have chosen more interesting colors.”

He sighed heavily. He watched her walk toward the upstairs bathroom in her shrink-wrap jeans. He squinted. He followed, Lucy ever at his side. She had a tattoo peeking out of the back of her low-rise jeans, right in the small of her back. “I…ah…have an old painting shirt you can throw over your clothes, if you’d like. Would that help?”

“Sure, thanks. After I get my stuff out of the car, I’ll put on my old sweats. You have all the supplies for me to get started?”

“Stacked outside the bathroom in the hall.”

“Super. I’ll start up here and, when I’m done, I can move it downstairs. Let me check it out, make sure you have everything I’ll need.” She knelt on one knee, checking out the supplies, showing more of that tattoo, but he still wasn’t able to make out what it was. She looked over her shoulder. “Noah, can you round up the masking tape and caulk? And get me a screwdriver and hammer, please?”

“Screwdriver? Hammer?”

“I’m going to take the door and mirror off. Open paint cans.”

“By yourself?” he asked. “Want me to help with that?”

“No. Just get me what I need.”

“Sure,” he said. But he stood there, his eyes riveted on that tattoo.

She looked over her shoulder again. “It’s called a tramp stamp,” she said. “I got it when I was fifteen, to be cool.”

“I know what it’s called. I just can’t make out what it is.”

“It’s vines in the shape of my name, and I’m not showing you any more of it. Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

“Right,” he said, going off to his toolbox. And he thought, I’m taking orders from her. Why am I not the least bit surprised?

After he delivered what she asked for, she completely ignored him, so he took Lucy to his office. He heard Ellie humming, moving around the drop cloth, pounding at the hinges to remove the door. She didn’t ask questions, nor did she need any help with the heavy door or with the mirror over the sink. He could hear her peeling off strips of masking tape for the borders. Completely self-sufficient and low maintenance. That’s what a good pastor’s assistant was, whether painting or managing the office. Now, that did surprise him.

Before sitting down to make a renovation list, Noah decided to tour the old building once more. The church was large but simple. Upstairs was a sanctuary that could hold about three hundred people. There were large double doors at the east end of the church that opened onto a foyer. From here, four wide stairs led up to the sanctuary level and a wider foyer—wide enough for a staging area, as for the gathering of a bridal party. Large interior double doors opened to the aisle, which led toward the stained-glass window, then two more steps led up to a deep stage that had room for the altar, the pulpit, a couple of choir pews. Up here Noah would find room for the piano that had been Merry’s.

There were doors to the right and left at the front of the church. To the left was the pastor’s office—a room large enough for his desk, shelves and filing cabinets plus a big round table for meetings. Outside that office, the stairs led down to the basement and a side exit door. On the other side of the sanctuary was another room of equal size that could serve as a secretary’s office and library. Right next to that room was the upstairs bathroom. Just a sink and toilet, of course, but it had taken the strain off his RV bath facilities. They seemed to be in perfect working order, even though they hadn’t been used in years. And that was it—no classrooms. But the basement could be divided with movable panels.

Noah went to his office and set about making a list of things to talk about with the local builder. Paul Haggerty was a friend of Jack’s and was going to work on the remodel. That big basement room with a kitchen would make a great community hall, once finished. Right now the walls were plain cinder block and needed texturing. The ceiling was stained from mystery leaks that should be checked out before new ceiling panels were hung. The floor was hard, cold concrete and could use a subfloor covered in tile.

The sanctuary was in pretty good shape, if a little beat up. If he rented a sander, he could finish the hardwood floors himself, but the ceiling was much too high and would require scaffolding.

He had ordered pews, an altar, a pulpit, a baptistery and a new desk for his office. The pews were an extravagance—they could make do with folding chairs. But the pews would be beautiful; he wanted them and there was enough money. Once done, the sanctuary would be breathtaking. And while Noah would enjoy doing all the work himself, it was his mission to get the church open for business as soon as possible. Paul could undoubtedly help with that.

Maybe while Paul was handling the walls and ceiling of the sanctuary, he could be painting the offices. He and Ellie, he thought. He heard her faint humming. She seemed completely capable. If the bathroom didn’t end up painted in stripes or polka dots, he might ask for her input on colors for the offices.

She popped her head into his office. “I’m going to run home, unload the car, change into painting clothes and come back. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you up on that offer of your old shirt.”

“You bet. I’ll have it here when you get back.”

Less than an hour later, she was back wearing sweats and a tank top. It seemed everything Ellie owned fit snugly, without a pleat, gather or wrinkle to spare or rattle around in. Fitted to that extraordinary body with those incredibly long legs Ellie managed to make old sweats look sexy. She’d had two children—how’d she manage her flat stomach and high, full breasts? Surgery? Somehow he couldn’t imagine her spending money on plastic surgery if she didn’t even own a couch.

He handed her one of his blue work shirts, already decorated with a little old paint. He was very happy to see her put it over her sweats and tank. Then he observed with some consternation that she looked every bit as pretty and sexy in that oversize shirt. Thank goodness she got right back to work. Humming. Sometimes actually singing, too softly for him to make out words, but it was very pleasant. Every once in a while Lucy meandered from his office to the bathroom and Noah would hear Ellie say, “Hey there, girlfriend. How’s it going? Bored?”

Around eleven in the morning, he checked on Ellie. In just a couple of hours, she had taped off all the edges and was almost done trimming the baseboards in white. When she heard him in the doorway, she looked up from her place on the floor and a coppery curl fell over her forehead. He couldn’t help but smile at her—she looked cute as the dickens with her hair piled on top of her head and drowning in his shirt. Besides, there wasn’t a bubble or streak on those baseboards. It was perfect.

“Are you extra happy today?” he asked.

“I might be,” she said, smiling. “I talked to my kids last night and gave them my new phone number. I’ll talk to them tonight and then tomorrow I’ll pick them up at eight in the morning for the day. I’m thinking of showing them my new apartment.”

“That’s right, tomorrow’s Saturday. Your day off.”

“Seventy-nine days to go.”

“You’re doing a very nice job there, Ellie.”

“Thanks. I know how to paint. I have a knack.”

“Lucky me. I’m going to put that talent to good use. Listen, I have some errands to do. I might not be back before you’re through today. I’m going to leave Lucy in the RV. I want you to help yourself to the lunch fixings in the refrigerator in the RV. There’s sandwich stuff and fruit, bottled water and soda.”

She wiggled around to her knees. “You don’t have to do that, Rev. Really.”

“I know I don’t have to, but it seems only fair. I could either raise your pay to eight twenty-five an hour or offer you lunch. I went with the lunch idea.”

“You’re actually a very nice guy, aren’t you?”

“Ellie, I’m a man of God. Don’t you expect nice?” Then he grinned.

“Does God know you’re throwing his name around to impress people?” she asked.

He laughed. “The RV is unlocked. Take a nice long break. Would you mind letting Lucy out to do her business? And try not to get paint on my dog or my La-Z-Boy.”

“You have a La-Z-Boy? Oh, brother. You’re certainly not gay….”

“How did they sound when you talked to them?” he asked. He hadn’t planned to ask, but it popped out. “The kids—how did they sound?”

“Well, fair. Not happy. They were a little emotional. They want me to come and get them right now and they’re having a real hard time understanding why I can’t. But they didn’t sound scared or hurt or anything. And I was as nice to Arnie as I could manage—I told him I was working things out so the judge would be happy with my job, and that I had a new place that was small but perfect. He was a jerk, but he promised to take good care of the kids. ‘They’re in better hands than they were, Ellie,’” she mimicked. “School starts soon and he goes to his office every day, getting ready for classes to start, and takes them with him. The school secretary keeps an eye on them. They miss me, but they’re safe. I think.”

“This must be very tough for you.”

“Yes, it is, but I’ll have them tomorrow. I’ll be able to see how they’re really doing.” And then she smiled at him.

The only plan Noah had for Saturday morning was to take life slow and easy. While Ellie was with her kids, the church would be quiet. He began the day with a leisurely cup of coffee, checked his e-mail, listened to his stomach growl. “Is that you or me?” he asked Lucy. He heard it again. “Okay, me. We should think about breakfast.” He looked at Lucy. “I’m talking to a dog.”

Lucy looked at him with questioning eyes.

“Let’s go to Jack’s,” he said. And Lucy followed obligingly.

While Lucy had her breakfast on the porch, Noah had his at the bar. He sat beside a local rancher and commiserated on the price of fuel, visited with Preacher for a while and discussed next week’s menu ideas, listened to Jack brag about the great progress his young protégé, Rick, was making as he adjusted to a prosthetic leg. Then he took his coffee out to the porch to soak in a little of that sunshine.

One of the best things about having a dog, Noah had realized, was that she usually drew a crowd, and that meant he got to know a lot of people. Noah had noticed the majority of dogs around these parts were herders, working dogs. One of his favorite visitors was young Christopher, Preacher’s son. Chris had a pup named Comet, a border collie by the looks of him and, at a few months of age, was already almost as large as Lucy. Since dogs weren’t allowed in the bar, Chris and Comet visited with Noah and Lucy on the porch.

Around noon, Noah finally ambled back over to the church, intending to take his good old time with the newspaper. He got set up in the church office, glanced at the lists on his desk before spreading out the weekend edition. He could, of course, help out with the painting of the bathrooms, but he didn’t want Ellie to think her work was less than adequate, so he gave up on that idea and got back to the sports pages.

He heard a sound and cocked his head to listen. There was movement in the church, so he went off to investigate, but Lucy beat him to it—she was already looking in the doorway of the upstairs bathroom, tail wagging.

There was Ellie, wearing his long, oversize blue work shirt, painting the top half of the bathroom walls yellow. She must have heard Noah approach, but she didn’t say a word. She didn’t even turn to look at him. And she wasn’t humming. She was working that paint roller with a vengeance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Painting,” she said.

“What about the kids?”

She stopped and looked at him and her expression was at once furious and completely broken. “He wouldn’t let me have them.”

“What? Why?”

She lowered the roller to the pan on the floor. “He wouldn’t let them speak to me on the phone last night and wouldn’t let them come with me this morning. He said they had misbehaved and were grounded. They were disrespectful to him by complaining to me that they wanted to leave. My God, they’re babies! They want their mother! When I told him we had a court order, he told me to take it to the judge.”

“Ellie, did you call the judge?”

She rolled her eyes before leveling them at him. “A—the judge is not on my side, and B—he’s not around on Saturdays.”

“How about the police?”

“The police? Now come on, Rev. Do the police get into stuff like this?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been in situations in the past where they have, though not in this state. He has to turn over the kids on your scheduled days. He’s been ordered by the court. He’s in contempt. He could go to jail. Or at least be fined or something.”

“Oh, your lips to God’s ears. Listen,” she said, “I’m pissed as hell about this, plus my kids are all torn up. I left them crying and begging and clawing for me with Arnie holding them back and threatening them. But I’m afraid of him, you know? Afraid he’ll take it out on them or something.”

Noah thought for a second. Then he said, “Wait a minute—did he suggest you resolve this problem by moving back in with him?”

“Not exactly, but he did say we could’ve been a family if I hadn’t been so impossible. That’s not true, by the way. I tried—for two months and twenty-six days. He’s the stubbornest, most unreasonable man I’ve ever—”

He grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling her out of the bathroom.

“What the hell…? What are you doing?”

He stopped right at his office door and slowly unbuttoned the paint-splattered work shirt that she wore. “We’re gonna go get your kids. It’s your day.”

He hung the shirt on his office doorknob. He looked at her low-cut, sleeveless T-shirt, her tight jeans. He sighed. Well, this was Ellie. No doubt this had always been Ellie. And he was in a position he’d never been in before in his life—he liked her just fine the way she was. The fact that he worried about the judgment of others made him furious with himself.

“I have to rinse my roller, my pan…”

“No time. Let’s go,” he said.

“Noah,” she said, pulling back. “If the paint dries on the roller…”

“I’ll get you a new roller tomorrow,” he said. He crouched and looked deeply into Lucy’s eyes. “You stay here. Take a nap. No painting.” Then he pulled Ellie out of the side door of the church. “If you’re right, and it sounds like you are, he wants you back. Ellie, do you think he cares about your kids? Do you think he wants them, on any level?”

“The kids annoy him. He doesn’t do things with them, like play or read or anything. He wants them quiet, neat, invisible. All kids annoy him. Really, he’s the last person who should be the principal of an elementary school….”

“Private school, you said.”

“Yeah, private. More money there, he said.”

Noah’s brain was working. Maybe a small private school wasn’t so picky about things like credentials, and past work problems. Noah wondered what Arnie’s employment history would reveal. “He’s punishing you, Ellie. Don’t buckle. Let’s go get your kids.”

“What are you going to do?” she wanted to know.

“I’m going to do to him what you did to Nick Fitch—but I’m going to do it in a pure ministerial, manipulative and threatening kind of way.” He grinned. “We’ll have to take your car so we have room for the kids. I’ll drive. Now, where are we going?”

Noah pulled into a neighborhood in Redway, just north of Garberville. The houses were a lot alike in shape and size, but were painted a variety of colors. Most had two stories with dormer windows, porches, detached garages and front walks. Some boasted pampered lawns and summer flowers, some weren’t quite so well loved. They were all what Noah would consider small—maybe three bedrooms, as well as attics and basements. They were all nestled into tall trees.

Noah drove very slowly because kids were playing in the street. There were a few riding their bikes around in circles while a group in the center appeared to be playing kickball. A couple of parents were busy with the usual Saturday chores—cutting the lawn, digging in the garden, washing the car.

“It’s that house,” she said, pointing. “There’s a black SUV in the driveway.”

“Are your kids out here?” he asked. As he drove slowly down the street, the legion of kids separated to let his car pass.

“No. Arnie doesn’t let them play outside unsupervised. And he doesn’t have time to supervise, so they never had a chance to make friends.”

“Do you have any idea what I should expect?” Noah asked.

She took a breath. “He’s a chameleon, Noah. He fooled me for quite a while. The school secretary worships him, she thinks he’s a kind, devout man, who’s strict and doesn’t put up with bad behavior, but he’s beyond strict. He can be nice when it suits him. His favorite saying is, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick.’ His other favorite is, ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ By now the neighbors hate him because he’s antisocial and wouldn’t allow the kids to interact with their kids. He’ll probably be very nice to you, but don’t fall for it.”

Like that’s new to me, Noah thought. A lot of people treated him with deference and extreme politeness when they’d prefer not to talk to him at all. They were talking to the minister, not the man. Not only that, but his father had been that kind of man—a charmer at church and a demon at home. That experience gave him an edge—he knew exactly what he would be dealing with.

“If there’s no TV in the house, what’s he doing in there?”

“He’s on his laptop all the time. All the time. He carries it around with him. When I got too close and might see what he was doing, he’d close it. My babysitter, from the duplex? She said he might be playing games. You know—real complicated games that have other people online from all over the place? Or maybe he’s looking at dirty pictures. Lord, I have no idea. But that’s what keeps him busy all the time.”

“Interesting,” Noah said. “I’m on my laptop a lot, too. But you can read over my shoulder anytime and just get bored to death.” He pulled alongside the curb at the front walk. “Do me a favor and stay in the car, for right now at least.”

“Why?” she asked, already out of her seat belt.

“Because I’m going to give him a chance to preserve his manhood, which will be hard for him to do in front of you. Let me try reasoning with him.”

“Oh, you better watch out.”

“I’m not a naive goody-goody, Ellie. Ministers deal with more dysfunctional people than strippers do, believe me.”

“I bet you’re right,” she agreed.

“Stay in the car and don’t ruin my show.” And with that, he got out and strode purposefully up the walk.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that his knock was not answered. He rang the bell, he knocked again, he rang and knocked and hoped it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn’t going to stop. Finally the door opened and the man standing there looked completely composed and not in the least ruffled. Ellie hadn’t mentioned he was a big, ugly guy. Oh, man, how Arnie must have lusted after Ellie! This was not a guy who had a long line of women waiting to hook up with him.

Arnie smiled without showing any teeth and there was a slight tic in his jaw.

“Arnie Gunterson?” Noah asked, putting out his hand.

“Arnold Gunterson,” he said. “Normally when people don’t answer the door, they’re either not at home or not interested in company.”

“I’m Reverend Noah Kincaid, and I knew you were home because your car’s in the driveway,” he said, his hand still out.

Arnie burst out laughing, but there was not an ounce of humor in his eyes. “Reverend?” he asked, looking Noah up and down. So what if he was wearing worn jeans and a plaid flannel shirt over a waffled, gray, long-sleeved T-shirt? “Reverend of what? The church of hope and BS?”

Noah tried to ignore him, though it did briefly cross his mind to get that haircut and some of what he always called “town clothes.” “Forgive me for being so determined, but it is imperative I speak with you before calling the police department,” Noah said.

“Why would you go to the police? Is it against the law not to answer the door?”

Noah finally pulled back his hand. Arnie was six feet or so and broad shouldered, but he was thick around the middle. He looked about forty years old and had an awful big head. His light brown hair was going thin, but it was neatly combed back from a long, wide forehead. His face was slightly flushed, suggesting he had high blood pressure or had been holding in some anger. Noah glanced at the hands that hung at Arnie’s sides; they were loose and relaxed. “Not at all, Mr. Gunterson. It’s against the law to defy a court-ordered visitation agreement. Miss Baldwin is in my car. She’s my employee, she works for the Virgin River Presbyterian Church now. And while she was willing to let the matter go, I thought it was important for her to see her children, and I insisted on stepping in.”

“You shouldn’t have. The situation is under control.”

Noah laughed indulgently. “Unfortunately, that’s not true,” he said. “She needs to see the kids and, from what she told me about her attempt to pick them up this morning, they need to see her. I am sure we can work it out. If we talked about it.”

Arnie’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “Is that what you thought? Well, the kids are having time-out. We had talked about how they would behave if they wanted a special day with their mother. No crying, yelling, complaining or throwing fits. No begging. They haven’t been with me very long, so acting appropriately is new to them. Their mother never bothered to discipline them. Or take care of them at all, for that matter. I’m sure they’ll be on their good behavior by next weekend, but I thank you for your concern.” He backed into the house and attempted to close the door in Noah’s face.

But Noah’s hand came out fast, hitting the door and preventing it from closing. “But see, that’s not in the court orders—concessions, loopholes and time-outs. I have a copy if you’ve lost yours,” he lied. “You have custody for ninety days until the judge revisits the issue, and your ex-wife has a visit every Saturday from 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. It’s a legal document, Mr. Gunterson. At the very least, I’ll get us an escort from the police or sheriff’s department. But if we have to haggle over this more than five more minutes, I’ll get help from the police. And I’ll be in court Monday morning with Miss Baldwin and an attorney. Because you can’t do this to her or the children. It’s cruel. We have to work it out. Or fight it out.”

Arnie smiled meanly. “Well now. I guess she’s got you under her spell.”

Noah returned the smile and met his eyes. Noah was determined to set a good example by his behavior, but nothing would have felt better than dragging this son of a bitch out of the house and beating the crap out of him. I could wipe the floor with him; he’s totally out of shape, Noah thought. He’s just a big fat bully. Yet all Noah said was, “Entirely.”