Deceit

Melissa watched as Linda slid the omelet onto its plate, then placed the pan in the sink. Every move she made kept her back or right profile to Melissa.

“How long have you and Baxter been married?” Melissa blurted.

“Seven years.” Linda squirted dishwashing liquid into the pan and began to scrub. “Why do you ask?”

Melissa focused on Linda’s hands as she cleaned the pan. Linda’s nails wouldn’t break making any dirty thing shine. They were hard and fake like Melissa’s.

“Just wondered.”

Baxter entered the kitchen in suit and tie, ready for his work day. He could have been three men entering, for the energy he brought into the room. Melissa straightened. “Well, hi, Melissa. You’re up early.” His voice sounded as kind and warm as ever. He shot her a winning smile.

Something inside Melissa loosened, even as she knew it shouldn’t.

Linda made no comment. She was too busy rinsing the clean pan and reaching for a drying towel.

“Morning.” Melissa smiled back. “I just…woke up early. I’ll probably go back to bed.”

“Sounds good to me.” Baxter gave her a wink. He walked to the counter and picked up his omelet and fork. “Thank you, sweetie.” He aimed the words toward Linda. “Looks great.”

“You’re welcome.” Linda dried vigorously. Her reply sounded flat.

Melissa faded away from the table as Baxter approached and took a seat. She needed to get out of the kitchen. The last place she wanted to be right now was between these two. Suddenly all the years of seeing her mom whacked around didn’t seem so bad. At least Melissa knew what she was dealing with. At least in the trailer a wolf looked like a wolf.

She faked a yawn. “I’m going back upstairs now. Linda, when I get up I’ll be happy to help you plan your dinner party.”

Baxter’s fork, speared into a large bite of omelet, stopped midair. Just for a second. “That’s nice of you.” He popped the fork into his mouth and chewed, no guile whatsoever in his expression. He drew the newspaper toward him and focused on the front page.

“That’ll be great.” Linda kept her head down as she turned to replace the pan in the cabinet. “See you in a few hours.”

Melissa left the room.

Halfway up the stairs she lingered, leaning over the banister toward the kitchen. But she heard no voices. She imagined Baxter finishing his omelet. Would Linda turn to him, defiantly display her red cheek? Was she whispering a threat to tell?

Not a sound.

Melissa hung there for a moment, staring at nothing, then trudged up the stairs. Who would Linda tell anyway? And why? She had everything. A mansion to live in, beautiful clothes, a BMW. All the money she wanted. And she didn’t even have to work for it. Who wouldn’t put up with some bad stuff for all that?

Who wouldn’t lie and pretend everything was A-okay?

Melissa padded down the long hall, reached her bedroom, and shut the door behind her. The sun had risen higher now, the room glowing a warm blue. Her eyes fixed on her desk chair, sitting where she’d left it—under the heater vent. Melissa hurried over to the chair, picked it up, and returned it to its proper place. Then stood in the middle of the room, mind churning. What if Baxter had noticed her open door at this end of the hall? What if he’d come in here, seen the chair? He’d figure out in a heartbeat she’d been listening.

But then, even if he knew, he wasn’t about to let on, was he? His knowing would just be one more part of this game.

Melissa thrust her hands into her hair and sank upon her bed. She focused on her knees, pulling her whirling thoughts together. Okay. Fine. So this new reality wasn’t quite what she’d dreamed. So what? She could handle it. She’d survived her entire miserable life, hadn’t she? Would she rather go back into the system, take a chance on another foster home? It would likely be way worse than this.

She’d just have to be more careful. Watch her back. Make sure she did everything necessary to keep from getting kicked out.

Melissa sat up and raised her gaze toward the heavens. Really, how was this any different than what she’d been doing ever since she’d gotten here—pretending to be what they wanted her to be?

Let Baxter and Linda play their game. She’d beat them both at it.

TWENTY

FEBRUARY 2010

Baxter Jackson. Outside my house.

I shoved from my chair, heart tripping into overdrive. My hand flew up and hit the water bottle. It tipped over, spilling onto the desk, then rolled off and hit the floor with a plastic glug. I snatched it up and set it aside. Grabbed the computer mouse and minimized my HM file screen.

Steps sounded outside. And men’s voices. Baxter wasn’t alone.

The doorbell rang.

I shrank into the middle of the office, away from the window. Looked around wildly.

A knock sounded at the door. “Joanne? You home?”

Pastor Steve’s voice.

My hands pressed against my cheeks. Pastor Steve’s presence was good news. He’d never want to hurt me. But he and Baxter together here—on a Sunday morning? Steve would be preaching at the church service at 11:00.

What was this?

My feet moved me toward the door. Before opening it I shoved back my shoulders, steeled myself. Caffeine and fright zinged through my veins. My face felt hot.

I opened the door and somehow found my voice. “Hi, Steve.” My eyes remained on my pastor. “Baxter.”

Steve shot me a smile. “Sorry to show up on your doorstep like this, Joanne. Baxter and I met early at church this morning before service to talk over…the issues at hand. After some prayer and discussion we thought it would be a good idea to come see you.”

Prayer and discussion? A fly on that wall would have drowned in Baxter’s honeyed words.

Baxter spread his hands. “May we come in?”

I dared a look at his face. He surveyed me with his unique mixture of serenity and power. I’m being a good Christian—or I’d squash you. Pain edged the expression. His face looked thinner. He’d lost weight since Cherisse’s death.

“Sure.” I stepped back and ushered them into the hall. Twelve hours ago I’d done the same for two policemen—in the dark. I felt no less shaken now.

I closed the door and faced the two men, my hands laced in front of me. An awkward silence followed. Clearly they expected me to invite them to sit down. I would not.

Baxter glanced into my office at my computer screen. Thank goodness all he could see was the desktop. His eyes flicked away.

Steve cleared his throat. “Baxter, you want to…?”

“Yes.” Baxter faced me, his lips curved in pious forgiveness. “I wanted to talk to you before church. You know the Bible says we’re not to worship God if someone has something against us. We’re to go make things right with that person first. I know there’s this…problem sitting between us, and I hoped we could resolve it.”

I’ll just bet he did. In front of his pastor, of course, so he’d have a witness as to his gracious character.

I looked from him to Steve. “Whose idea was this?”

“Baxter’s.” My pastor’s tone was firm, as if the answer alone supported Baxter’s claim.

My arms folded. “I see. Baxter, why couldn’t you do this alone? Why bring Steve? As I remember, the passage you’re talking about also says to go to the person quietly, by yourself. And if that doesn’t resolve the problem, then take a witness along.”

Steve hesitated. What could he say? He knew I was right.

“You’ve been so against me, Joanne.” Baxter raised a hand in supplication. “Frankly, I didn’t know if you