While he talked, I walked a few feet away to think about what we knew-or believed-and what it meant.
“You said not to count out an act of God,” Dad said when he got off the phone.
“Come again,” I said.
“You get to talk to Bobby Earl Caldwell tonight,” he said. “How?”
He smiled and shook his head to himself again. “On national television.”
CHAPTER 34
I picked up Susan at the newly remodeled Driftwood Motel, which had been forced into renovation because of hurricane damage. From Mexico Beach, we drove east along the coast on Highway 98 through Port St. Joe and into Apalachicola, where we ate at Caroline’s.
On the drive down, we had mostly made small talk about the events in our lives since we had last seen each other, and our conversation had all the charm of a first date without the mystery and possibility. But as we neared Apalachicola, we both seemed to relax, the iceberg on the armrest between us beginning to thaw, and as we really began to talk, the stranger beside me only occasionally sounded like the person I used to know.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.
I shook my head. “You?”
“I’m a married woman,” she said as if she were appalled.
For a while, we sat speechless and I considered the beautiful woman across from me as if for the first time. She no longer seemed awkward or uncomfortable with herself, and she obviously had overcome her dislike of silence.
“Well, aren’t we a faithful pair?” she asked with a smile.
“That or pathetic,” I said.
Caroline’s faced the marina, her windows overlooking the choppy waters of the boat-filled bay. The full moon bathed everything in a romantic glow, casting long shadows that seemed alive, its pale particles of light gently slow-dancing on the small waves of the water.
Earlier in the day, a harvest had been gathered from this place where all life began, that included fresh amberjack, which we ordered grilled with baked potatoes and the sweetest iced tea around.
After we had ordered, she said, “Dad told me about the case you worked together last summer. He was very impressed with you.”
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically. “He’s been a fan since way back.”
Only two other tables were occupied in the small restaurant. At one, an elderly couple sat in silence waiting for their food. They seemed perfectly content not to speak to one another, as if through their long life together they had said all there was to say. In stark contrast, a young couple sitting across from them attempted to talk with each other in between feeding their baby and entertaining their little girl.
“No, really,” Susan said. “He would never say anything to you, but-”
“He tried to have me fired,” I said. “And tried me for rape in the media.”
She shrugged. “So he has a funny way of showing it,” she said. “When it was all over, he said he respected you as an investigator.”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s just as a human being that I disappoint him.”
She laughed. “Actually, it’s only as the man who broke his little girl’s heart.”
“I guess I did, didn’t I?” I said. “You were so angry… I thought I repulsed you more than hurt you.”
The elderly couple’s food arrived, and as their disfigured hands met in the middle of the table when they bowed their white heads in prayer, I wondered if I would ever find someone to grow old with, and if there was any possibility it could be Susan.
From deep within, a voice whispered that it could never be anyone but Anna, and that it could never be Anna.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked, taking a deep breath and sighing. “The anger was designed to hide my true emotions, my love and hurt. It’s taken nine months of therapy and support groups to be able to say that.”
I smiled.
“And it wasn’t your addiction, but your recovery,” she said. “I could handle an alcoholic. I was comfortable around one of those, but the person you became… well, frankly, he scared the hell out of me.”
I nodded, encouraging her to continue.
The laughter of the little girl drew my attention away, and Susan and I both turned to see the toddler hurling French fries at her dad, who ate them with monster sound effects that brought a smile to my face.
Nicole Caldwell’s face flashed in my mind like heat lightning over the Gulf on a hot and sleepless night.
“Good dad,” I said.
She nodded. “Anyway, you were so different,” she said. “So… you didn’t need me anymore.… So when you were accused of having an affair, I knew it had to be true because you didn’t want me anymore.”
“But,” I said, and she held her hand up.
“That’s how I felt,” she said. “I realize now that it wasn’t that you didn’t want me. It was that you didn’t need me, but I had always seen them as the same thing.”
My mouth must have been hanging open, because she said, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You’re so different,” I said.
“Now you know how I felt,” she said. “It was freaky. I was living with a stranger. Plus you had the whole new God-thing going on, too, and that was extra-freaky. You became like this saint. The last thing I wanted around was a saint.”
“It’s the last thing I am,” I said.
Our food came, and as we ate the fresh grilled fish in the glow of the full moon, I found myself being pulled to the enigmatic woman sitting across from me. The combination of her familiarity and mystery was even more hypnotic than the moonlight shimmering atop the gentle ripples of the bay.
But my feelings were out of sync with my thoughts, as if a war were waging between my head and my heart. I felt physical, sexual attraction to someone I wasn’t sure I could ever like as a person again. She seemed so different, but anyone could for an evening.
After dinner, we continued east along the coast into Tallahassee.
“Sorry this has to be part of our evening together,” I said. “I just found out late this afternoon.”
“Are you kidding?” she said. “It’ll be fun. I still can’t believe you’re going to be on
“Yeah,” I said sarcastically, “if you want my autograph, you better get it now. The price’ll probably double after the show.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but double of nothing I can afford.”
CHAPTER 35
The familiar music swelled then faded in the small teardrop earpiece I was wearing, while on the twenty- inch Sony monitor beside the camera in front of me, a shot of the
I was seated in the Channel 7 news room where, via satellite, I was joining four other guests around the country for
“Tonight,” he said, “I’m joined by Evangelist Bobby Earl Caldwell. He’ll be here for the full hour to talk about the death of his daughter inside a Florida state prison facility where he was conducting a crusade. Plus, theologians from the new PBS special on Abraham along with John Jordan, chaplain of the prison where Nicole Caldwell was murdered.”
The monitor in front of me filled with an earnest-looking Bobby Earl Caldwell wearing a thousand dollar suit, makeup, and slicked back hair.
