Kept (41 page)

“It’s not your fault—”

She laughed at her sister’s blindness. “It
is
my fault.”

Adrienne shook her. “Miska, wake up!”

The movement startled her into silence.

“The only way it’s your fault is if you told him to kill her. Or if you knew he planned on doing it and did nothing. Did that happen?”

“No,” she whispered.

“So he did it alone? Without you knowing?”

She nodded, wiped her nose. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“You wanted him to divorce his wife. That’s all. He’s the one who chose to kill her.”

She stared at the floor between her and her sister, this sister who refused to acknowledge the truth. “Nothing will change the fact that I told him, repeatedly, to leave his wife. To choose me over her. And finally he did. It wasn’t the way I expected, but he did what I asked.”

“You had an affair. Yes. People will judge you for that. But you’re as guilty of her death as Amber Frey was of Laci Peterson’s murder.”

Miska huffed out a laugh. “I knew he was married. I knew.” But what did Adrienne care? She’d known Garrett was engaged. Had even met Tracy. “I never should have listened to him.”

“But you did. Now you have to think about yourself. Very soon your name is going to leak out, and people are going to be hounding you. For interviews, for your story. Look at the contract, Miska—”

“Stop it.”

“Look at it! You want to know why that advance is so big? Because these are the kinds of offers you’re going to get. You don’t think Melissa Leach will be conference calling you with her publisher? You think that other house you freelance for isn’t going to call?”

She gritted her teeth. “I don’t want their money.”

“Oh, come off it—”

“I don’t want their money!” Her voice echoed in the sudden silence, her shout repeating in her head.

Adrienne stared at her.

Miska unclenched her fists. “I’m sorry, Aid. I didn’t—none of this is your fault.”

Adrienne looked away.

Miska rested her forehead against her palms, her elbows digging into her thighs. How would she go on after this? How could she ever look people at church in the eye again? And Dillan—what would he think when he found out?

Adrienne sighed. “If it makes you feel better, no one knows your name. I filled that in myself. So your secret’s safe. For now.”

It wouldn’t be a secret long. Not if Mark was arrested.

“Miska, I’m so sorry.” Adrienne’s arm settled across her shoulders. “I wish you weren’t dealing with this. If I could, I’d make it go away.”

Miska nodded, her gaze on the floor.

“But I can’t. Neither can you. No one can.”

Not even Dillan. “Why couldn’t I have met him first?” She met her sister’s gaze. “You got to live next to people like him—and you didn’t want it. Why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t I have met him in high school? Do you know how different things would be?”

Adrienne’s forehead wrinkled. “You lost me.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” Adrienne was right. No one could make this nightmare go away. Just like she couldn’t rid her past of all the men she’d been with.

No matter how badly she wanted to.

“Are you okay?”

No. She forced a smile for Adrienne. “I’ll be fine.”

“What will you do when the story breaks?”

She shrugged. What Christian publisher would hire her with her name and face plastered all over the evening news? “I don’t know.” What
would
she do? Her shoulders slumped as reality set in. She’d already turned in her notice. What on earth would she do?

“Miska, right now the thought of profiting from this disgusts you. But in another week or two, you’ll think differently.”

“I will not—”

Adrienne laid a finger over her mouth. “You don’t have to make a decision today. Or this week. Give yourself some time to let things clear out and settle down, okay?”

The contract landed in her lap.

“You need income, and the numbers here provide it. The advance alone could pay for, what? Half of what’s left on your mortgage?”

She nodded. Almost.

“You’d still be editing, plus you’d have time to search out new clients. Since we’re fast-tracking the blog book, you’d potentially have royalties in eighteen months. All of which means you could stay here.”

Live next to Dillan and watch him avoid her? Because he would, once the story broke. He was a pastor; he’d have to.

“Look. I shouldn’t—” Adrienne swore. “You can’t repeat this, okay? You know some agents. Get yourself a good one. Have them talk to Paul. They could get you more, probably a lot more. Paul just wanted to sign you before everyone else found out.”

Publishers would pay more? For details on how she’d destroyed lives?

“You think about it, okay?”

Never.

Adrienne caught her eye. “Okay?”

“Sure.” Whatever got her out of there. “I will.”

“Okay then.” Adrienne climbed to her feet.

Miska pushed herself up, still fingering the contract.

Adrienne stayed around a minute longer, forcing exuberance into her words, but Miska refused to be affected. Finally her sister left, and in the silence that rumbled through her condo, Miska spread the contract across the island.

So much money—and Adrienne said she could get more.

No way could she make money off Darcie’s murder. But somehow she had to make a living. How?

She climbed onto a stool. “God, I came to you because I want to live right.” A knot of emotion clogged her throat. “I’ve already quit my job. I’d planned on doing editing that honored you.”

Not anymore. That dream had died. She dropped the contract and clenched her fists on top of it. “There’s only so much I know to do. I can edit, and I can—I can—” The pain overwhelmed her. “Where
are
you in this? Why don’t I have options?” She scrubbed her hands across her face. Was God done with her already? He’d finally realized who she was, and he’d dropped her? Because that’s what it felt like.

She read the contract. The blog book, the tell-all book about her relationship with Mark—both for six figures. Her sin sensationalized for entertainment in exchange for a roof and utilities, for groceries when Mark’s gift cards ran out—

She groaned. “I can’t use those.”

She left the island for views of Grant Park. Buckingham Fountain still held court in the center, the outside jets spraying water over the center basins.

Whatever happened, this part of her life, this dream of downtown Chicago, was over.

It was all over.

She pressed her hand against the sun-baked glass. “I don’t have any options, God, except to keep following you. Just—please.” She mashed her lips together. “Please don’t let me go.”

Like her father had. Like her brothers had. Like all the men in her life had. Like Dillan would, once he found out what was coming.

Because he needed to know. Everyone did, really. Tracy, Amanda, Jordan, Matt, Cam—they all deserved to hear it from her.

And when it was over, it’d be just her and God. And maybe Tracy.

Probably Tracy.

That would be enough. It had to be.

She pushed off from the glass. Just her and God. And whatever bits of life he left her.

Dillan entered the singles’ room that night with a growling stomach and a headache. He picked a row halfway back and sat as the room filled. Garrett and Cam took the chairs beside him while Tracy, Miska, and Amanda chose the other end of the row in front of him.

Just as he’d hoped.

It seemed like everyone had shown up tonight. Even Ethan walked in and plopped onto the chair beside Garrett, going right into his usual shtick. Dillan ignored him and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers linked.

Miska smoothed her cream pants over her knee, then smoothed them again. And again.

He tilted his head to get a better view.

She was quiet, somber. Tracy and Amanda talked beside her, seemingly unaware that something was off.

Ethan leaned into his vision. He grinned and tipped his head toward Miska. “You like?”

“Knock it off.” Dillan sat back, tucking his legs beneath the chair in front of him.

“No one would blame you, man. Who wouldn’t want some of that?”

Garrett stiffened between them.

Dillan reached across Garrett and grabbed the jerk’s arm. “Shut your mouth, Ethan. Don’t say another word about her.”

Ethan wrenched his arm away, eyebrows jumping toward his hairline, and nudged Garrett. “He doesn’t know?”

If the man said a word—

Garrett pushed Dillan back. “Dillan’s right, dude. No more. Let her start fresh.”

Ethan studied Garrett, then shrugged and slouched in his seat, arms crossed.

“Dude.” Garrett hissed in Dillan’s ear. “Chill.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “I can’t stand him.”

“Really?” Garrett’s mouth twitched. “I say you ask her out already.”

Honestly… He looked Miska’s way again. It was tempting.

“No excuse this time? Whoa. I need a moment.”

Cam leaned in from Dillan’s other side. “What are you girls whispering about?”

Garrett leaned across Dillan. “I’m expounding on the wisdom of him asking Miska out.”

Cam grinned at Dillan. “He’s a little stupid.”

He
was stupid? “Says the guy who dates the new girl for two weeks, then ends it.”

“Except this new girl. Why do you think that is?”

Cam was waiting for
him
to ask Miska out?

“Do it, Foster.”

“Right. Like she’d—”

Cam deepened his voice. “Do it.”

Garrett snickered.

Throughout the night, Dillan continued to watch her. While she listened to the discussion, she didn’t contribute, and the sadness on her face never faded.

She looked heartbroken. Why?

She glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes meeting his.

He wrinkled his eyebrows in question. If only he could pull her close and ask what was wrong. Ask if there was anything he could do. Anyone else he could tell to back off.

Her mouth shifted into a smile. She shook her head a little, then looked back at Austin behind the podium.

Dillan didn’t look away. Who cared who noticed? Her past didn’t matter to him. It shouldn’t matter to anyone else either.

Garrett and Cam were right. He should ask her out.

The discussion wrapped up, and Dillan closed his study guide after Garrett did, aware that he hadn’t caught much of the night. Austin could have been teaching Islam for all he knew. He glanced Miska’s way again.

“Prayer requests?” Austin asked.

Miska shifted in her seat.

Four people shared requests for job concerns and sick family members.

Then Miska raised her hand.

Austin nodded at her.

She stood, fingers twisting together. She sent a nervous smile over the room. “I, umm, have something I need to share.”

Dillan’s gut tightened.

She took a deep breath. Exhaled. Met his gaze, then looked at her feet. “You all know I became a Christian a few weeks ago. Tracy helped me get there. I’ll always love her for that.”

Tracy flashed Dillan a smile.

He forced one back.

“Some of you know where I’ve come from, but most of you don’t. I want to clear that up.”

No.
He gritted his teeth. What was she doing?

“If you’d known me three months ago, you would have said I’d be the last person to become a Christian. I was—”

Silence hummed.

Dillan clenched his fingers together, his knuckles turning white. She didn’t have to do this. Didn’t she know that? Who had planted this crazy idea in her head?

She sucked in a deep breath. “I guess you could say the woman at the well had nothing on me.”

Garrett’s arms were crossed over his chest, one hand fiddling with his collar while he stared at the seatback in front of him. Beyond him, Ethan mirrored his position, but his eyes were locked on Miska.

“I was involved with someone for a while. This man who—” Her words vanished. She rubbed her fingertips across her throat. “His wife recently died, and…”

Dillan leaned forward, ran his hand through his hair. A whisper from the back floated across the room. He should say something. Shouldn’t he? Because it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

“I’m telling you this because… because…”

Dillan bit back a groan. “Miska—”

She lifted a hand to silence him. “I want you all to hear it from me. I’ve learned that the police believe he killed his wife and that they’ll be arresting him. And I know my name—” She shoved hair away from her face. “My name will be linked to his.”

Miska.
Dillan rested his forehead in his palm, studied the smudge of dirt on his Nikes.

“I’d asked him to leave his wife for me, and realizing now what he did, because of what I said—” Her voice trembled. “I have so much regret. I never meant for him to—to—”

Tracy’s quiet voice reached his ears. “Miska, we know.”

Dillan lowered his hand over his eyes, used his ring finger to clear one eye, then another.

“I don’t even know what to ask you guys to pray for. I want to find out the truth of what happened to his wife. I need to know how much I’m to blame for it, and where—” her voice shuddered “—where to go from here. I’ve been working for some publishers, editing stuff a Christian has no business editing, and as soon as I realized that, I quit. I’ve applied for jobs with Christian publishers. I want to live for God, you know? But now I find out what Mark’s done and…”

He forced himself to look at her. Her hair had fallen around her lowered face, but he could still see her mouth quiver. Hear her draw a shaky breath.

“I have no job, and no one is going to hire someone involved in a scandal like this.”

Behind the podium, Austin shifted. “Maybe they won’t hear about it.”

“They’ll hear. It’s Mark Scheider.”

Ethan’s hand dropped from his mouth. He stared at Garrett, then glanced over his shoulder at the back of the room, shaking his head at someone.

Miska was right. The story would be all over ESPN, all over the internet, all over national news.

“I’ve been offered money for my story, but I can’t do that. I just—I don’t know what to do. I need a job. I need direction on where to go from here and how to… how to handle this, how to get up in the morning knowing another woman is dead because of me.” She laughed a harsh, biting laugh. “A woman and her child.” She twisted her hands together and dropped onto her seat. “Thank you.”