The Fall of the Prodigal (12 page)

Three minutes passed.

Three whole minutes.

Michael stood transfixed in the doorway of Keith's former home in Jamaica Estates and, still, he could not get his fill.

He released short, staccato breaths. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Yet, he stared. Lauren had addressed him at least four times, but he had not spoken a single word.

The tears rolling unheeded, streaking his face and chin, provided a clue as to the magnitude of emotions he felt. Then he cracked, bending slowly to his knees. With both hands to the floor, Michael lowered his head and uttered his first words: “Thank God.”

Lauren zapped into motion and closed the front door. He registered the click of her heels and her rapid movement before she dangled tissues in his face.

“Thank you.” He wiped his face.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she offered.

Michael rubbed his hands. “Thank you. It's brick cold out there. With these temps, we might get snow before Thanksgiving. Coffee would warm me up.”

Lauren went to fetch two steaming mugs of coffee. When she returned, Michael stood to relieve her of one.

“Come,” she commanded and led him into Keith's—no, her—living area. Michael surveyed the room while he gathered his wits. She had changed it up a bit. He liked it.

He wiped his face and neck. Feeling warm from nervous sweat, he removed his jacket and slinked onto the couch. “I've waited for this day for years. I prayed, I hoped. But I never thought it would happen. I searched for you everywhere. Not once would I imagine you would be in Keith's old home.”

“Seems fitting doesn't it?” Lauren returned testily. Though her voice held spirit, she did not stop moving her hands: a sure sign she was nervous.

Michael understood what Lauren meant by those words. He'd “hidden” Gina's children in their former home. What a payback. “Touché,” he said, with a slight nod. While he spoke, he listened for the sound of little feet. He bit his tongue to keep from asking for the children.

Surely, she hadn't left two-year-olds unattended for this long? Michael's heart thumped with worry. He knew Lauren was prickly and didn't want to scare her off by demanding to see the twins.
Patience. Lord. I need it now.

“I . . .” Lauren cleared her throat, and began again. “I know you want to see the children, but I want you to promise me you're not going to try to take them from me. I'm stepping out on faith here because after the way you threw me out—”

“I'm sorry,” Michael interrupted. He read the pensive look on her face, and repeated, “I'm truly sorry.”

Lauren's shoulders heaved with tears. “Good. Because I'm tired of running, of hiding, of wondering if today will be the day the monster takes my kids from me.”

Monster?
Michael's heart slammed into his chest. Who said words didn't hurt? “Monster?”

She quickly reframed her words. “Sorry, in my mind you were the Big Bad Wolf . . .” Lauren trailed off. She must have realized calling him a wolf didn't sound much better.

Michael grimaced. He deserved it. He had been a monster, a wolf seeking to devour any who stood in his path. “Lauren, you're right. A few months ago, I probably would've swooped in and who knows? I can't say for sure what I would've done, but I can speak for now. I'm a changed man. God is changing me.” He looked at his watch. He did not want to make small talk. He did not want to drink coffee. He wanted to see his children.

“I want you in John's and Olivia's lives. I haven't told them you were coming. I figure you could meet them, and we'd play it by ear. I debated if I should tell them, but . . . this is new to me. I don't know the protocol of saying, ‘kids, here's your daddy who's been missing for two years of your lives.' Luckily, they're too young to know any better.” With a shaky breath, and a decisive pat on her flower-print skirt, Lauren jumped to her feet. “Come, meet your children.”

Taking deep breaths, Michael struggled to walk slowly behind her. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, before allowing them to dangle by his side. His body shook. The walk up the flight of stairs and down the hall seemed infinite. With each step, doubt grew.

What if they didn't like him?

Once they were outside the door, Michael grabbed Lauren's hand. He could hear little voices. Happy voices. “Wait,” he frantically whispered. “I . . .”

She looked at him with warmth in her eyes. “You'll be all right. They're children who want to be loved. Can you do that?”

Could he? Could he open his heart and love again? Let people inside knowing there was the possibility of feeling pain and rejection? He exhaled. “Yes, I can.”

“Okay, then.” After a firm nod, Lauren opened the door.

“Mommy!”

“Look, Mommy!”

Rooted by the entrance of their playroom, Michael froze. His body was statue still, but his eyes scanned the two children in their playpens. He saw two sets of watery mouths, gapped teeth, lopsided grins and fell in love. They were perfect—perfect miniatures of a blend of his and Lauren's best traits.

“Hey, babies! Let Mommy see what you're doing.” Lauren rushed to take them out of confinement. She dropped to her knees and started playing with the children.

Lauren waved him over. Michael bent on all fours and crawled on the toy-filled floor, trying to remember when he used to play with Trey. So far, he was drawing a blank. As he drew closer into their space, the twins took notice of him and huddled into their mother. He saw Olivia's chin quiver and John's eyes widen. Within seconds, both of them were pointing and wailing.

Michael stopped moving. Unsure. He had commandeered million dollar deals with finesse but here he was out of his element. In that moment, he felt what Keith must have gone through with Epiphany. He had kept her from Keith on purpose. Lauren was right. He was a monster. Crushing thoughts whirled around his head. He might be the worst thing to happen to these children.

“Hush, now,” Lauren cooed. She kissed them both on their cheeks and tickled their tummies. Grabbing a toy, she distracted them by pulling it so the music could play. Then, in an excited voice, she said, “John, Olivia, I'd like you to meet your daddy. Daddy's here. Daddy's going to read you your favorite story.”

“Daddy.” John tilted his head to look at Michael. John's facial expression mirrored his. It caught Michael off guard.

“Yes, that's Daddy.” Lauren crooked her finger at him. Michael followed her cue to join his family.

“Daddy?” Olivia said, batting long lashes at him. She was going to be a heartbreaker. Fatherly pride rose within him.

“Get the
I'll Love You, Forever
book off the rocking chair,” Lauren said.

Michael quickly complied. It took him a minute to realize she intended for him to read the story. He drew a breath and opened the book. He had just finished reading the first line when he felt a thump on his leg.

Olivia and John sat on his leg with expectant grins. He scooped them into his lap and waited. No cries. He relaxed.
Thank you, Lord.

Lauren shuffled closer like a mother hen guarding her chicks. Even though he wanted to howl with joy, Michael began to read. He read the story three times. By the end of the story, he had cramped legs, slobber on his cheek, and several popped buttons; but he was in heaven.

He had a slight kink in his neck and his back protested from his crouched position, but Michael had no complaints. He had loved spending this time with his children. An hour had passed. On leaden feet, he trudged down the stairs. He had helped Lauren get the twins settled into bed and now faced the dreaded moment.

“I wish I didn't have to go,” he said.

Lauren nodded, but didn't say anything.

“If the court agrees, may I move in here?”

Lauren stepped back. “Move in? Michael, that's crazy and too fast. You need to slow down.”

Slow down? Slow down? After all these years, he had plenty of time he needed to make up for. Michael asked God for patience, again. “It was a stupid question. I don't know if you're even seeing anyone or anything. I shouldn't have asked,” he conceded, already counting the hours until he could return.

“I'll see you at Thanksgiving,” Lauren said. “We'll work something out.”

Next Thursday. Thanksgiving was next Thursday. She was talking about waiting a whole week. Michael sighed. What choice did he have? “All right. How about I come for an hour tomorrow?” he asked. It was worth a try. He missed John and Olivia already. A vision of two little bottoms perched in the air had been impressed upon his heart.

“One hour.”

“Do you need help feeding them breakfast?”

“No, I've been managing fine on my own all this time. I think I'll be just fine.” Lauren came to him. “Michael, your children will be here. You'll be in their lives forever, but you have a serious court case and I still want to protect them as much as I can. If it were to get out you had children, reporters would be camped outside my door. I don't want Olivia's and John's faces plastered all over national television. The press would eat this up and sensationalize it. As a former reporter, I know, because I would do the same thing.”

“You're right.” Michael bunched his fists. This case was ruining his life. He wondered if it was time he took matters into his own hands. “I didn't do it, Lauren. I didn't hurt Mindy.”

She tossed her hair back. “I know. If I thought you were a rapist, you wouldn't be anywhere near my children.”

“Our children,” he corrected.

“Right. One hour. Eleven good?”

She had gone all businesslike on him. Michael wondered if Lauren harbored any feelings for him or if he had crushed them to pieces. He knew though, this was not the time to ask.
Small steps,
he told himself as he departed.

But, as he drove away from his family, he vowed to do all he could to get this thing with Mindy handled. Michael pressed the Bluetooth to activate his cell phone. It was time to give Frank a call.

“She cuts herself.”

“On a scale of one to ten, Daniel, how certain are you about the pictures?”

“In my professional opinion? Eleven,” Dr. Daniel Northman replied. “I'm certain.” He flipped through several frames where he'd zoned in on cut marks on Mindy's inner thighs.

“I knew it.” Keith pumped his fists. This was his first break in Michael's case. It was worth leaving his house during the first snowfall of the year. Mindy was unstable and, from the look of things, she was one unhappy girl. “Can I get a forensics psychologist to speak to her and gauge her mental state?” Keith asked.

“I imagine her father will fight, but even he can't override a subpoena. She's most likely seeing someone already. Start there. I'll be happy to see her myself.”

Keith gathered his files and shook Daniel's hand. “I appreciate your offer. How was Argentina?”

“Beautiful. The country and the women,” Daniel answered with a smile.

Keith gave a noncommittal reply. He knew the doctor considered himself a ladies' man. From the pictures on Daniel's desk, Keith guessed the women agreed. He did not care about the doctor's personal life. His professional reputation as an expert was unparalleled. Daniel's exorbitant fee was well worth his testimony. Dr. Northman never swayed in a cross-examination.

“I'll be in touch,” Keith said. He dug into his briefcase and retrieved a small card. He slid it across Daniel's desk. “That's the address to my church again. In case you've lost the other one. You're welcome anytime.”

“One of these days.”

Keith nodded. He had heard that one too many times to count. He left the office and entered his car. He called Gina to let her know she had the evening off. He was going to pick Trey and Epiphany up from their respective schools and take them to play laser tag. He had been promising to take them. Well, today was the day.

But, first, he would pop over to see Bishop Combs. His former mentor had been avoiding him. Bishop Combs had not delivered the first payment. Natalie threatened to alert the board. Keith held her off. He wanted the chance to confront Combs. No time like the present.

Keith didn't bother to call ahead. He drove to Hamlet Estates in St. James. He pressed the codes that would let him into the gated community. Within minutes, he pulled to a stop outside the bishop's five-bedroom home. He didn't see any cars parked outside.

Keith's shoes crunched in the snow. He walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. No one answered. That was odd. He knew Suzette did not work.

Keith called Natalie. He could see his breath in the cold air. “Natalie, where is the Bishop's spare? I know the alarm code.”

“He ran!” Natalie shrieked once she had told him where to locate the key. “I can't believe he would take off!”

“Let's not make any rash proclamations,” Keith said. “I'll call you back.” He opened the door. The alarm chirped and Keith entered the code. Then he looked around. At first glance, everything looked in its place. But, it felt empty.

He walked toward the winding staircase. “Bishop!” he called.

Keith made his way up the winding staircase. As he did, he remembered the housewarming party. Members invited had been impressed. Some whispered in wonderment. They wondered how Bishop Combs had afforded this $2 million home.

Keith gulped. He knew.

He called the bishop's phone again. No answer. He left an urgent message.

He knew what he would find but ventured into the master bedroom anyway. The entire room was in disarray. He pictured frantic packing. Clothes and shoes were tossed without regard. Keith's head hung in disappointment.

There was no disputing the fact that Bishop and Suzette had run. There was no avoiding the aftermath of their decision.

His cell phone vibrated. He knew it was Natalie.

He heard the pain in his own voice. “He's not here.”

Natalie's huge sigh came through the line. “I'll call the board. We'll meet after Thanksgiving. You tell your wife.”

Dread filled him. Keith did not relish that upcoming conversation. Things between him and Gina were already tense because of Michael's case. This would further exacerbate things. But there was no avoiding it.

He would wait until after the holidays. Then he would tell her.