The Rosaries (Crossroads Series) (25 page)

“I don’t think so, Daddy. Graham would probably begin to wonder what kind of mess he has gotten himself tangled into. He doesn’t believe in anything, as far as I know.”

“He’s an atheist, you mean?”

“I think so.”

“Oh wow! He’ll be the missing piece to complete our family puzzle, Olivia,” Paul chuckled. “Seriously, though, if there is one thing I have learned in my long life here on earth is that people fight over things they shouldn’t fight about; faith is definitely one of them. The history of mankind is bathed in blood over accounts of religious wars, and few folks have ever understood something very simple – There is only one vision, and many paths to get there. People just look at the wrong side of faith, the one that brings them down; they rarely look at what being a person of faith really means. They are like children, for the most part – “My God is better than yours; mine is more merciful; mine is more powerful and vindictive.’ – there are only two powers, Olivia, no matter what one chooses to call them, and they are the powers of good and evil. Choosing between the two is really the only decision humans must make.”

“I don’t think I ever looked at it quite that way, Dad, but it does make a lot of sense. Graham is one of the kindest souls I have ever encountered, although he claims to believe in nothing.”

“He believes in being a good person, Olivia. His heart is in the right place, and to me it’s all that counts. Look at how many people claim being religious but don’t follow the core
teachings they preach to others. To them, religion is nothing more than a tool of judgment and the easy path to social acceptance.”

“So, what do you think, Ms. Beauchamp? How is the dress fitting you?” The high-pitched voice of the attendant broke the spell of the conversation.

“Oh, it fits wonderfully. I think my father is quite impressed.”

The attendant, a short plump lady in her mid-fifties, with a head full of red curls and pouty red lipstick, turned toward Paul and smiled.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Stunning.” Answered Paul, unable to hide a twinkle in his eyes.

“I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation you were having…I agree with you. My family is predominantly Jewish, and they were appalled when my daughter married a young man of Muslim faith. My brother won’t even talk to her, and cringes every time I even bring up her name. His take is that she has sided with monsters that have been fighting our way of living for centuries, and in his mind, if you team up with the enemy, you are the enemy.”

“Unfortunately it is a widespread sentiment” Olivia interjected, “most only focus on what separates us spiritually, rather than honing in on what connects us.”

“You’re just as wise as you are beautiful, young lady. You should be mighty proud, Sir.”

“I am. Olivia is one of a kind, and I am the proudest dad in the whole wide world.”

Olivia smiled and felt a little awkward being the unexpected center of such high praise. “Well, I’d better get changed. Do you think the dress can be ready to be picked up by tomorrow?”

“I’ll have it ready by tonight” the attendant said cheerfully, before smiling once again in Paul’s direction and heading toward the front of the store to greet another young lady eager to find the dress of her dreams.

Paul waited until Olivia came out of the dressing room and then stood up from the undersized chair and hugged her.

“Take care, Sweetheart. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Dad. You got your passport, right?”

“Yep. It arrived in the mail last week.”

“Perfect. See you tomorrow for the fitting of the tuxedos.”

Paul walked slowly out of the store, at peace with the world, and headed down the street to get to his truck. His mind was still floating among images of his beautiful Olivia in her wedding dress, and he didn’t see the old man sitting on a door step with his face buried into a newspaper, right outside the bridal shop. Although his attire was quite unique, nobody seemed to pay any attention to him, and continued walking as if they hadn’t seen him. The man smiled, and took off the dark shades he was wearing, staring after Paul as he disappeared around the corner and blended with the thick crowd. “Congratulations, Paul. See you in London.”

When someone knocked on the door,
Lakeisha
was still in a deep slumber. Last night she had trouble sleeping, and felt as if some important piece of information was pushing to surface to consciousness; rather than trying to relax, she attempted to remember what happened, but nothing came up. Her memory was still failing her, and the headaches were ferocious. She thought of the upcoming trip, and hoped to be strong enough.

Sister Justine warned her of danger looming ahead, in a letter that just arrived yesterday. She instructed
Lakeisha
to bring along her book of secret prayers, the ones the nuns of their order only used in extreme cases and were mostly unknown to other religious groups, aside from, maybe, a few selected members of the Vatican.

Lakeisha
hoped that her superior was going to give her more detailed instructions, but all Sister Justine said was that
Lakeisha
needed to trust her intuition and follow the signs. In Sister Justine’s opinion the devil rules the rational mind, and when one tries to understand things in human terms, the channel of true knowledge becomes blocked and doesn’t allow the true voice of God to come through. “The more you keep things away from your mind, the more you become a true vessel of the Divine – pure and able to serve” Sister Justine told her.

Lakeisha
got out of bed and stumbled, as quickly as she could, toward the door before whoever knocked left. When she opened, the heavenly scent coming from a vase full of long stemmed red roses filled the doorway;
Lakeisha
looked around the flowery wonder to see a an acne-ridden teenager with a bored look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to open the door. Here, I’ll take these – I assume they are for Ms. Sanders?”

The boy nodded and handed the vase to
Lakeisha
, before producing a receipt booklet and a pen.
Lakeisha
signed the receipt, thanked the young boy who reminded her of Ritchie in “Happy Days” and brought the roses to the kitchen, where she arranged them in the middle of the table. She saw a small card, but even without reading it, she knew Ryan Wheeler sent the flowers.

That man gave her the creeps, and she felt sure he had an agenda of his own, but she couldn’t get involved more than so much. She really liked Natalie, and in her heart she knew that she was in charge of protecting her, but Ryan Wheeler was the least of her worries. Something bigger, mightier, and scarier, was lurking in the dark, waiting for Natalie to go to London, away from her home base and thus, more vulnerable. She felt a shiver run up and down her spine, and she sighed. A few more days of rest, and then all bets would be down.

“It’s nothing more than a business transaction, Sweetie, you know that.”

“I don’t know anything, Ryan. All I know is what you are telling me.” Ashton Logan swept a rebellious strand of silky blond hair away from her face and stared at Ryan with her soft blue eyes, the ghost of youthful insecurity making her luscious lips tremble.

Ryan ran his appreciative eyes along her naked body and drank the beauty of her long, slim legs with the same eagerness of an alcoholic staring at a bottle of pricey alcohol. “Marrying Natalie Sanders will save my family from misery and shame. I’m sure you understand that.”

Ashton’s eyes darkened with doubt. “I’m not sure, Ryan. I love you, and all I want is to be with you, but you are asking me to be a lifetime mistress, and I don’t know if I can commit to it. I want to get married, have children, have a husband I can call my own.”

“But you will have all that, Ashton. We can still have children, and have the life we dream of. The only difference is that we won’t be able to tell the world of our love, but who cares? We don’t need a wedding to be true to one another. Marriage is nothing but a contract – it kills love.”

Ashton looked at Ryan, her childhood dreams of being a bride quickly slipping away as she fell deeper and deeper into the well of Ryan’s smooth words. Ryan saw from the look in her eyes that his technique was having an effect on her, so he continued relentlessly. “I love you, Ashton, but you know my family would never accept you. My parents are old school. They
would never accept you, a waitress, as one of their own. Can you imagine my mother, the queen of Bridge, telling her friends about the little servant her son has rescued from misery? I don’t want you to go through that kind of humiliation, Ashton, and feel as if my parents are giving you a handout. You are my baby bird, and I just want to keep you safe, tucked away from the cruel world, pampered and spoiled. If you say the magic word we will go together to find a little nest for just the two of us, and you can pick out all the furniture.”

Ashton was in deep thought and Ryan could see she was seriously weighing his offer. He touched her cheek gently and drew her toward him, sweeping her off her feet with a deep, sensual kiss that stole a soft moan from her heart.

She lay back on the motel bed and received him eagerly, knowing full well that she wasn’t strong enough to stand her ground. She loved Ryan. She tried to date other men when he refused to introduce her to his parents, but none of them measured up to him. At least in her dreams, when they fell asleep after making furious, passionate love, Ryan was only hers, and he smiled as she walked toward the altar dressed as a bride. 

“I really shouldn’t be having this conversation with you, Natalie…I have no facts – just hearsay, which might not be entirely reliable.”

“Mr. Dillard, it is very important that I find out if Ryan Wheeler is in trouble, financially speaking. I am considering a relationship with him, but I have reasons to believe his interest might not be as romantic as I initially thought.”

Mr. Dillard sighed heavily; then he spoke. “The older Wheeler, Ryan’s father, is an avid gambler, Natalie. They are very good about keeping things under wraps, but I’ve heard that in order to maintain his habit, Mr. Wheeler has eroded the family fortune.”

“Gambling debt? How bad can it be?’

“Very bad. Banks are after them, and are threatening foreclosure of many of their properties.”

“What would it mean for the Wheelers?”

“Well,” Mr. Dillard said as he took off his glasses, “it could mean different things, depending on what one considers most important. They would lose their financial stability, but
first of all they would lose the impeccable reputation the family has sported as a badge for generations.”

“And that would be unthinkable to some. I can just look at my mother and know that she would probably rather die than be shamed in the eyes of society.”

“Then your mother and Mrs. Wheeler should meet, Natalie. I’ve only met Mrs. Wheeler twice, both times at charity functions, and I can assure you the woman lives in her own world. If you watch her long enough at parties, you get a feeling that you’re witnessing a queen holding court – she sweats self-righteousness and thinks she is sitting a few notches above everyone else. Her husband, the culprit of the imperial fall, follows her like a puppy, unable to stand up to her.”

Natalie laughed. “Ryan and I have been unknowingly living twin lives.”

“If Ryan doesn’t find a solution to their impending doom, they will lose everything, Natalie, even the house he grew up into. They will be forced to file bankruptcy and all their properties will be auctioned off.”

“Oh my God…I had no idea. From the outside looking in they are the portrait of opulence.”

“It’s a front, Natalie, nothing but smoke and mirrors. In reality, the Wheelers are on their way out.”

Natalie was stunned.
Lakeisha’s
words had set the seed of doubt, but reality was far worse than she expected. “Thank you, Mr. Dillard. I promise you that I will not breathe a word of this to anyone; I am aware that it is strictly confidential.”

Mr. Dillard nodded and smiled at Natalie the way a father would. “I know you will, Natalie. Catherine was no old fool.”

Natalie’s cell phone always rang when she couldn’t answer it promptly. Today, of course, was no different, and the blasted thing started ringing while she was driving.

Still keeping her eyes on the road, she dug her hand into her oversized bag on the passenger seat and fished for the elusive phone, all the while missing the good old days when cell phones were as big as bricks. She found it before it stopped ringing and answered without even looking at the name of the caller. When she heard her father’s voice, she wished she had checked the caller ID before picking up. “Hello?”

“Natalie! It’s Dad, Honey.”

“Yes, Dad, how are you?”

“I’m great, Natalie, but what’s this that I’m hearing? I ran into
Lakeisha
yesterday, and she told me the two of you are going to
London
for an art show. How come I didn’t know anything about it?”