Paradise Lost

heart-transplant surgery. Marianne’s father, Tim Maculyea, had unbent enough then to come to the hospital in Tucson. Later, when Esther tragically had succumbed to pneumonia, he had come to the funeral as well. Marianne’s mother, Evangeline Maculyea, had not. Only the birth of little Jeffy had finally effected a lasting truce. Julie Erickson, complete with six months’ worth of paid wages, had been Evange­line’s peace offering to her daughter. It was Julie’s capable presence that had made possible Marianne’s rapid post-childbirth return to her duties as pastor of Bisbee’s Tombstone Canyon United Methodist Church.

“Marianne,” Joanna gulped.

“Who’s calling, please?”

“It’s Joanna,” she managed to mumble. With that, she dissolved into tears.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Why, Joanna!” Marianne exclaimed, the moment she heard Joanna’s voice. “What on earth is the matter?”

“It’s Butch,” Joanna whispered.

“What about him?” Mari demanded. “Is he hurt? Has there been an accident?”

Joanna shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No accident.”

“What is it, then? You’ve got to get hold of yourself, Joanna. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, Mari,” Joanna sobbed. “What am I going to do? What am I going to tell Jenny? It’ll break her heart.”

“Tell her what? What’s happened?”

Joanna drew a shuddering breath. “Butch stayed out all night. He was with another woman. I saw them together, just a little while ago.”

Marianne was all business. “Where did this happen?” she asked.

“At a hotel up in Phoenix—Peoria, really. “There’s a wedding tonight ...”

“I remember now,” Marianne said. “Butch is the man of honor.”

“Right,” Joanna said. “The rehearsal dinner was last night. I was supposed to go, but I ended up having to work. I had to drive a homicide victim’s sister down to Bisbee to identify the body. Then there was a huge flap with my mother calling CPS and upsetting everyone out at the ranch. By the time things settled down, it was too late to drive back, so I spent the night and came back to Phoenix this morning. I had tried calling Butch to let him know. I left several messages on voice mail in the room, and they were all still there because he never came back to the room. He was with another woman, Mari. When I saw them, they had just finished having breakfast together.”

Like a wind-up toy running down, Joanna subsided into silence.

“Breakfast,” Marianne interjected. “You said they had break-fast. What makes you think there’s anything more to it than just that?”

“I saw them,” Joanna said. “I saw them together. And he intro­duced me to her. He said she was an old friend, Mari. But if she was such a good friend, why haven’t I ever heard her name before? Why wasn’t she invited to our wedding? Believe me, they’re more than good friends. And I can’t stand it. We’ve been married less than two months, and already Butch may have been unfaithful to me. I can’t believe it.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Marianne asked. “Did he tell you he’s been unfaithful?”

“No, but—”

“How do you know then?”

“I just know. I’m not stupid, Mari. I saw them together. I know what I saw.” In the silence that followed, Joanna heard Lila Winter’s voice once more. “Thank you for everything.”

“What you think you saw,” Marianne admonished. “Have you actually talked to Butch about this? Did you ask him?”

“No. Ever since I left the hotel, he’s been trying to call me. He says he wants to explain. Explain! As if there could be any explanation. But I won’t talk to him. He thinks