Sanctuary (27 page)

Once there she looked about her cautiously, then closed the phone booth’s doors behind her. Praying for God’s help—that she could actually pull this off—she dialed Mrs. Browning’s number.

“I’m glad you rang me again,” Mrs. Browning said breathlessly. “I should say you knew what you were talking about, my dear.”

“You found something?”

“A small metal box, and inside, a laminated piece of paper.”

“Is there a number on the piece of paper?” she asked, shaking with anticipation.

“Yes … the name of a bank in Switzerland, the word
rose
, and an account number, to be sure.”

“Please read it to me, very slowly.”

She wrote down the number, reading it back for verification, then asked Mrs. Browning to burn the piece of paper. “Put it in the sink and light a match to it.”

The dear woman promised to “see to it right away,” without further question.

“I’ll visit you soon,” Melissa said.

“Very soon?” asked Mrs. Browning.

In her mind’s eye, she remembered her second mother’s smile. “It won’t be long, I promise.”

From where Elizabeth stood at the kitchen window, she could see their alfalfa fields shifting in billowy patterns, swaying in the breeze like sea green velvet. Out in the barnyard, Thaddeus and several other men from their church district gathered to cut the alfalfa for the second time this summer, since early June. When that chore was finished, the whole family would be going out to Ohio to visit with Elizabeth’s second cousins. She could hardly wait to see her Mennonite relatives again. Wouldn’t be but a minute before she and Cousin Henny would be all caught up in their chatter—“catchin’ up on our lives,” they’d tell the menfolk, and be off to the kitchen, exchanging recipes and whatnot all.

She turned back to making chow-chow ahead for the evening meal, hoping for some time to spend with Lela this afternoon. In the past week, since Melissa had arrived on the scene, Elizabeth had hardly had a chance to pay her sister what was coming to her from the country store.
I’ll take her the money I owe her and some strawberry jam, too
, she decided, thinking back to the interesting birthday supper for Lela. She had a feeling there was most likely goin’ to be a new member in the family, and mighty soon at that. She’d seen the way Paul Martin looked in earnest at her sister. Funny how the Lord God heavenly Father answered prayer, and sometimes so awful fast!

Melissa strolled down the road, alone this time, past Thaddeus and Elizabeth King’s farmhouse, in a new direction. After the startling conversation—the discovery made by Mrs. Browning—she’d decided to go for a walk, taking Lela up on her offer of a cotton summer dress. The hem of the dress nearly skimmed her ankles as she walked, and she began to feel something like a Plain woman herself. As though she were living in a haven of sorts, far removed from the troubles of modern life.

Pondering the unearthing of her father’s money, she recalled her previous phone conversation with Denny. He’d urged her to trust the FBI. But trusting was difficult. Yet what choice did she have? Ivanov would find her again, in just a matter of time. She had to do
something
.

A black-and-white warbler chirped his high-pitched solo, and Melissa smiled, glad for the distraction and for the way things had fallen into place so far today. She had spent the lunch hour over a hearty meal of apricot salad, ham loaf, and green beans, getting to know Lela even better. The woman was definitely in love, and Melissa was glad. Such a kind and caring person, Lela would surely be a good wife to Paul. Melissa had thought often of the little boy, the widower’s son. A more precocious child she had never encountered, but then, she hadn’t had much opportunity to engage herself with children. Never in college, and certainly not at the florist shop in Mystic.

Strangely enough, though, she could easily imagine herself caring for and raising children. Two, maybe, although Elizabeth King made child rearing appear almost effortless. Something about the Plain style of living made hard work seem altogether natural.

The countryside had a calming effect on her. She enjoyed every little wild flower, maidenhair fern, and tree along the way, the sky an appealing blue that reminded her of walks along the beach with Ryan and their golden retriever.

She was glad to be alone. Lela had taught her, through word and deed, that a little solitude each day was essential to good health and emotional well-being. Lela was big on having what she called a “quiet time” each morning. “Too many people are afraid to be alone with their thoughts,” Lela had said just this morning. “There’s always something—television, radio, family, and friends—vying for our attention, filling up the empty space, keeping us from feeding our inner person.”

Melissa had never thought of it quite like that. Yes, she’d regretted not having her mother growing up, yet she’d had Mrs. Browning. She’d hated the thought of her grandparents living so far away in Grand Junction, but they were only a phone call away. She’d suffered great loss, it was true, but in spite of her loneliness, she had never learned to feel completely comfortable with herself. Until this day. The past and the future were eliminated as she breathed in the fresh air, infused with the subtle smell of alfalfa. Only the present remained as she talked to God, the first real prayer she’d prayed since her experience on the banks of the Conestoga River. “I’m not very good at this,” she began. “But my friend Lela tells me that you listen and understand, that you hear the heart’s cry of your children. I’m glad about that, because my heart’s rather torn up these days.” She prayed that God might change the souls of men like Ivanov, and she prayed for Ryan. “Help him find his way to you, Lord.” But most important, she prayed for wisdom, as Lela put it—“Help me make the right decision.”

She felt a peculiar lightness in her step. Her eyes were once again opened to the beauty around her. The euphoric flutter of a monarch butterfly caught her attention, and she walked more briskly, following its meandering path as it stopped to alight on shell pink pasture roses that covered a small slope. She was aware of the vivid, broad blossoms of the species roses, but she kept her gaze fixed on the butterfly’s orange-brown wings, its black veins and borders, missing her palette and brushes. Orchard orioles and vivid goldfinches darted here and there, from one tree to another, as she made her way up the narrow country road—and she painted the picture in her memory instead.

  
Chapter Thirty-Two
  

THE PHONE RANG late in the afternoon, after Elizabeth had dropped by for a short visit, bringing along peach and pineapple preserves, as well as some money she owed Lela for her many quilted pillow shams.

Melissa was curled up on one of the sofas, reading Lela’s Bible, when the jangle made her glance up as Lela scurried to the kitchen.

“Denlinger residence.” Lela paused, listening for a moment, then replied, “Who may I say is calling?” She came into the living room, eyes too wide, the phone cord trailing behind her. Lela covered the receiver with her hand and whispered, “You have a phone call.”

“Who is it?” Melissa mouthed.

“Your husband.”

A thousand questions spun through her mind, and renewed panic seized her. For a moment, she considered denying that she was here and bolting for the door.

“What do you want to do?” Lela whispered, still holding the phone.

Finding courage, she said, “I’ll talk to him.”

Lela’s expression conveyed hesitancy, as if asking,
Are you sure?

Melissa nodded, getting up, and taking the phone. “Hello, Ryan?” she said, a lump already forming in her throat.

“Mellie, honey … are you okay?”

“How did you know where to reach me?”

“Sweetheart, you must listen to me—”

“Please, answer
me
, Ryan. How did you know where I was?” She looked at Lela, who was standing near, arms folded, eyes closed. She appeared to be praying.

“The FBI,” he replied softly.

Melissa’s breath caught in her throat, and she reached for a chair to sit down. “I don’t understand. How can that be?”

“There’s been a huge mistake—”

“But … Agent Walsh said … no, don’t do this, Ryan. Please don’t lie to me.” Tears welled up, and she fought the confusion and the fear.

“Don’t hang up. Let me explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“Melissa … I
work
for the FBI as an informant. I’m on your side,” Ryan said. “My job was to help the government break Ivanov’s network. That’s why I couldn’t tell you the truth before. But it’s over now. Ivanov and his crowd don’t trust me anymore. That’s why he showed up at the restaurant in Mystic last week. He was making a final play for your father’s stolen money.”

Her husband’s explanation was, at best, astonishing. She struggled to understand. Even so, a new emotion surfaced.
Hope
. With all her heart she wanted to believe him. Was this the answer to her prayer on the road?

“I want to believe you,” she said, her voice trembling, her heart longing for assurance. “But how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You simply have to trust me.”

“But I …” She was more confused than ever. She breathed deeply, contemplating his words.

“Mellie, I know everything about you and your past. This one time, you must trust me.”

This one time …

“But you lied to me, Ryan. If what you tell me is true … all those years …”

“I was sworn to secrecy. That’s different, isn’t it?” He seemed to have an answer for everything.

But he was right on one count. She had never entrusted him with her deepest secret, and she’d made a terrible mistake, panicking after seeing Ivanov at S&P Oyster Company. Now she felt foolish. Her walls of suspicion were beginning to crumble. “I’ve missed you, darling. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

She heard him sigh. “I’ve missed
you
, Mellie. You have no idea.”

“What do we do now?”

“First of all, we stop this madness. These people will never be satisfied until we settle the issue about the money. I know you don’t know where it is, but—”

“No … I
do
know, Ryan.”

A disturbing silence fell between them.

Then—“What did you say?”

“I figured it out,” she said. “My dad put the money in a Swiss bank account.”

“Do you have the account number?”

“That, along with the code word.”

“Listen, Mellie, what’s the nearest restaurant to you?”

She turned to inquire of Lela.

“The closest place is Best Western Eden Resort Inn,” Lela said, eyes serious.

Relaying the information to her husband, Melissa felt nervous, yet excited about seeing him again.

“Meet me in the parking lot there, tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock. An FBI agent will accompany me. From there we’ll go to the bank and transfer the money to the government, get things squared away once and for all.”

She was glad he was taking charge of things. For too long she’d carried her burdens alone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“It’s going to be okay, Mellie. This nightmare will soon be over. At last we’ll be together, and no secrets between us anymore.” His voice was tender and sweet to her ears.

“No secrets,” she whispered. “I love you, Ryan.”

“I love
you
, sweetheart.”

She hung up the phone, her heart lighter than it had been in
ever so long
, she thought, lapsing into Lela’s quaint speech.