Chapter 12
Cynthia
After delving into every last little detail of my life, and my failings as a human being, my lawyer, seems resigned to my fate.
She’s not saying anything directly, but I can feel her quiet condensation and judgment just the same.
I sit back on my uncomfortable chair, wondering if the police are going to formally charge me when her phone buzzes.
She gives me an apologetic half-smile and picks up her phone. “Myra Briggs,” she says.
Her eyes move to me, and my anxiety only increases as a wooden smile appears on her face. “Of course, Your Honor. I’ll be there right away.”
She ends the call and gets to her feet. “That was the judge, the DA has requested a meeting. “
My heart rate spikes. “Why?”
She doesn’t answer me, just closes her briefcase, and slides it off the table. “I’m not sure. But if she’s prepared to offer something, we’re not in the position to decline it.”
Her reply makes my stomach drop to my toes. She’s in such a hurry, she doesn’t say another word, just opens the door, giving me a view of the police officer standing outside.
Fighting tears, I slump in the chair and wonder why I haven’t heard from Becker.
I stare at my fingernails and try not to picture myself in handcuffs, being dragged before the court to have my entire life pulled apart from a jury.
There’s no clock in the room so I have no way of knowing what time it is, or how long my lawyer has been gone.
To stop myself from going crazy, I let my thoughts drift to the life I had in Baltimore.
For a few years I wasn’t Cynthia Wyatt daughter of a pastor, I was Cynthia Wyatt, art student, and free spirit who’d fearlessly backpacked her way around the country.
I gave it up for nothing. I wasn’t needed. And it’s becoming more apparent that I wasn’t wanted.
I’m not sure what’s worse, knowing I made a mistake coming back, or knowing that the insignificant life I tried to make here is probably over because of a stupid fundraiser Trudy didn’t even need me for.
My chin is wobbling, and I can feel the last of my composure start to crumble, so I dig my nails into my palm and start to pray that I don’t end the day in jail.
I close my eyes, and even though I fake it in church, this time I pray with every fiber of my being, that somehow, someone will get me out of this mess before it’s too late.
I’ve lost all track of time when the door opens and my lawyer steps inside.
At the grim expression on her face and the file in her hand, I grip the chair tight and wait for her to relay what is obviously terrible news.
She sits, and places the file on the desk, and doesn’t seem to be able to sit still. “I’m not sure how to say this.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and hate that my voice is almost a whisper. “Am I going to jail?”
She slowly shakes her head. “It appears that new evidence has come to light. The police are dropping the charges.”
I’m so stunned I just stare at her before I croak a reply, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
She gives me a phony smile like she never believed I was innocent anyway.
“The police have just arrested another suspect.”
When I still don’t react, she closes her briefcase with a thud with something resembling annoyance.
“You’re very lucky, Cynthia. You’re free to go. Your sister is waiting outside to take you home.”
“Why is my sister here? Where’s dad?”
Her chin lifts a little. “I think it’s best if you hear it from her.”
“Hear what?”
But she’s not even listening, she’s walking through the door, leaving me gaping at her back.
I have no time to process what’s happening, or that the police officer outside the door is walking away when Trudy appears.
Her eyes are red, her face blotchy but it’s not concern for me that’s made her break down in the police station.
Trudy’s shoulders start to shake as fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “They just arrested dad,” she says.
***
Becker
Britt is perched on a stool, elbows on the counter as she eyeballs me. “I guess this means you’re leaving?”
I pull out the card she gave me and slide it towards her along with an envelope. “The deeds are inside. And I’ve told the electrician to send me the bill.”
She sighs and sends me a mopey look. “Are you going to go see mom before you go?”
I take a sip of my beer and shrug. “If I get time.”
She reaches up and flicks my forehead before I can dodge it. “What was that for?”
She glares at me. “It was a pre-emptive flick. Just in case you do something stupid.”
“Like?”
She taps her finger on the business card. “I dunno, like leave town without telling someone how you feel about her.”
I feign confusion which nearly gets me another flick. “I mean it. I liked her. And I was hoping to get to know her better. Mom will be here in a few days, I know she’d like to meet her too.”
At the not-so-subtle way she’s mentioning our mother, and interfering my eyebrow hitches. “What makes you think Cynthia wants anything to do with you, or me for that matter?”
I can tell she’s not buying it when she glowers at me. “So you just avoid her and skip town?”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “I didn’t say I was avoiding her. I didn’t say anything. As usual, you aren’t listening.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “Have you called her? Gone to see if she’s okay? Apologized for not being honest?”
I pull a face at her. “I literally just finished writing up my report and giving all my evidence to the DIC and sorting the paperwork out on this place.”
That I’ve been snowed makes no difference to Britt. “Don’t wait too long. In a place this small one of us is bound to run into her, and I don’t want it to be awkward if you’ve hurt her.”
I sigh. “If I hurt her, it wasn’t intentional.”
She just shakes her head. “It never is with you, Becker. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to her.”
I’m not about to tell my sister what my plans are, so I finish my beer and look around the apartment. “You sure you want to take this on? A lot to manage for one person.”
Her brow furrows as she hops off her stool. “Don’t patronize me. You know full well I can handle this, and anything else this town throws at me.”
I chuckle. “True.”
She hides a smile. “It was nice to have you here. Even if it was just for a few months. Where are you going now? Bangkok? Thailand? Back to PNG?”
I wink. “You know I can’t tell you where I’m going.”
A mischievous look flickers across her face, letting me know she’s not going to drop this any time soon. “Can you tell Cynthia?”
To annoy her further, I feign interest in the label on my beer bottle before I finally reply, “Mind your own business,” I say.
***
Cynthia
I stumble through to the waiting room with Trudy on my heels, in a daze, and barely conscious of the fact I’m now on the right side of the law.
My lawyer is still nowhere to be seen, but thankfully, a sheepish police officer has returned my belongings.
As Trudy and I wait, I tap out a text to Lacey and hope she can come pick me up.
I have no idea what happened to Becker. And right now he’s the last person I want to see.
Trudy can’t stop crying and looks worse than I feel. “How can this be happening? Maybe it’s a mistake?” she says.
I look at her, and have to stop myself from being too harsh “Unlike me being brought in for questioning?”
She winces and looks down at her hands. “You lost the records. I thought you were intentionally hiding something.”
I lean my head back against the wall as we wait for dad’s lawyer to come. “I was. But I’m done. As soon as this is over I’m leaving.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re going to leave me here to deal with this?”
This time I do snap the words. “Why the hell would I stay? No one wanted me back, and everyone thinks I’m a thief!”
She winces. “You’ve stolen things before. I was so sure you’d just done it again.”
I look at the police officer closest and think of all the people in the church and this town who will always think the worst of me.
Every mistake I’ve made, every time I’ve spoken out of turn, or worn the wrong thing, or thought about things I’m not supposed to, flicker across my jaded memories.
“I know. And that’s why I left the first time. Any time something happens, I’m always going to be the first person they look at. Then and now.”
Trudy sniffs. “I don’t know how I’m going to live with this. First you, and now dad.”
I look at her, and she looks so wilted, I can’t feel anything but pity. “Are you going to stay and talk to the elders?”
She nods weakly. “I don’t know who I am without the church.”
I release a sigh. “You could still go to Papua New Guinea and help people like you always wanted to.”
She swallows. “I don’t know if I can. Becker was handling all of that. And he was so obnoxious when he came to see me last.”
My stomach twists into knots at the mention of his name. “He came to see you?”
She nods weakly. “He was asking all kinds of things about you, and about dad.”
Her face drains of color. “Do you think he’s the one who found out? He was checking over everything to do with the trip.”
I don’t have the energy to even think about that right now, so I just shrug, even though I’m sure he does. “What difference does it make now?”
Her face twists in pain. “None. I just wanted to know who is responsible for destroying dad’s life.”
A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “If dad stole the money, then he is,” I say.
But Trudy isn’t prepared to accept that any more than she’s prepared to accept me. “There must be an explanation. He can’t have stolen it.”
“Why? Because if he did that makes him a liar and a thief?”
She scowls at me. “Because if he did, how can I believe anything else he said? Anything he taught us?”
At the desperation in her voice, and the pain on her face, I know there is nothing I can say to make this any easier for her.
She idolized dad. And now she’s wondering if her entire life was built on a foundation of lies.
We sit in silence, my energy ebbing away with every minute that passes.
I’m so exhausted and overwhelmed I can barely keep my eyes open. “I need to go home and sleep,” I say.
Trudy glares at me. “How can you be thinking about yourself at a time like this?”
Even through my own anger, I have to cover a yawn. “Are you serious?”
Trudy gives me an imperceptible head shake. “Of course you’re thinking of your own needs. I don’t know why I’m so surprised.”
Now past the point of anger, I get to my feet ready to walk out when an officious-looking man appears.
He looks at Trudy and bobs his head before looking straight at me. “Cynthia, your father would like to speak to you.”
Trudy is at my side in an instant. “What about me?”
He shakes his head. “Just Cynthia at this stage.”
At the snub, Trudy’s face tightens and she sends me such a malicious look if I cared at all, I’d probably feel it.
When I hesitate, the lawyer gives me a weak smile. “We have about ten minutes before he’s formally charged and processed. This is your last opportunity to see him.”
I swallow and more to annoy Trudy further I nod. “Okay,” I say.
Still unsure if I’m up to this conversation, I walk past the interview room I was in and follow the lawyer into the room next door.
At the sight of dad sitting behind the desk in handcuffs, the blood seems to pump a little faster around my body.
“I’ll be right outside,” the lawyer says.
He slips out the door, leaving me standing gawking at the shell of a man that was my father.
“Why?” I croak.
He looks at the chair opposite. “Will you sit down?”
I’m too tired not to sit, so I tumble into the chair. “Why?” I ask again.
He blows out a breath. “To save the church. To keep it going.”
“Not good enough.”
He looks at his hands. “No, it isn’t. It’s not even a good excuse. I took money that was given in good faith and I used it for other purposes.”
I’m so beyond exhausted right now, my voice comes out a growl. “But why use my account?”
He winces. “I never expected you to come back home. I reasoned if anything happened, you’d be miles away, and it couldn’t fall back on you.”
Tears sting in my eyes as I consider how close I came to being where he is right now.
“But it did. And you did nothing to stop it.”
His face twists in pain. “I didn’t know how to. Everyone needed me, they needed the church. I had to do what I could to keep it running.”
A bitter laugh slips out. “Even if it meant stealing from the people you're supposed to be serving?”
He shakes his head. “It all went to the church. To repairs, to keep the family together.”
I’m too tired to carry this on, and it’s not going anywhere useful anyway. “You did everything to protect your church family, dad, but at the expense of your own.”
I get to my feet and use the last of my energy to make sure my voice comes out strong.
“But I was never really good enough to part of either family, was I?” I say.
I don’t wait for a reply, I just spin on my heel, and walk out the door.
