Hold for Release, page 12
“About what? The lawyers are handling everything. Your attorney can send me copies of your paperwork.”
“You can have whatever you want—the house, the cars, the money. Look, I came here to talk about me.”
She scowled.
“That came out wrong. I’ve been going to a pastor for counseling. I’m changing, Carlotta. I was wondering if maybe we could put this divorce on hold. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You’ve always had a way with words. I’m sure you’ll make senior editor someday. If only you meant it.”
“Is it the job, baby? I could quit, and we could move away.”
“You? Quit the love of your life? Let’s face it. Your job was your first affair even before the blonde.”
Should he tell her Pablo saw her new friend hanging out with Allison?
“Once the paperwork is finalized, I’m no longer your wife.” She turned her head away. “You can spend more time with your girlfriend.”
Jake clenched his jaw. “Allison isn’t my girlfriend. She was nothing more than a mistake. And now…never mind. Please, Carlotta. Please, please reconsider.”
“There’s nothing to reconsider, Jake. Please stop sending me flowers and notes. Please leave me alone.” Carlotta motioned for him to leave.
He stopped on the doormat. Flowers and notes? “What—?”
Carlotta closed the door. Like a journalist indicating -30- at the end of a press release. End of story.
~*~
A siren blared, and a musty odor invaded Jake’s nostrils as he settled into the squishy, well-worn, pea green sofa and studied the cracked plaster walls of Pablo’s urban apartment. Quite a contrast from his earlier visit to Rosario’s duplex. He glanced at his brother-in-law’s Bible on the makeshift crate table. Jake quirked a brow. “So you’re not doing drugs anymore?”
Pablo took a seat in a folding chair next to him and smiled. “Nope. Found Jesus in prison. The real deal. Been born again.”
Jake shook his head and stared at nothing in particular. “I’ve been to church, but I don’t even know what that means.”
Pablo motioned with his right hand. “So there’s this rich leader, and he asks Jesus what’s he gotta to do to be saved. He says unless a man is born again, he ain’t gonna enter Heaven. When you accept Jesus, it’s like you’re born again. A new beginning.”
Jake scratched his head.
Pablo pointed at Jake. “Name one thing you done wrong.”
Jake chuckled. “Only one?”
“I hear ya. So we’ve all messed up. We deserve hell. But God sent Jesus, who was perfect, to die in our place, take our sin, so we can go to Heaven.”
Jake picked up the Bible, flipped through the pages, and set it back down. “How many more good points do I need to get into Heaven?” Lying was one thing, but as far as sin levels went, he must have racked up an enormous debt.
“It’s free,” Pablo said. “Salvation is a free gift. You take it, and from then on, you let Jesus steer your life.”
“I went to church with my grandma, and people would go to the front and kneel. I guess they were getting saved. I suppose I need to talk to this pastor I know.”
“You can,” said Pablo, “Or you can talk to God right now.”
Jake’s shoulders tightened. “Right now?”
“Yeah, why not? I mean, there’s some crazy guy loose, right? Someone killed Ed.” He raised both hands. “Wasn’t me. But someone did, and he’s out there. And what if something happens to you? Don’t you wanna know where you’ll go when you die?”
Jake rubbed his chin. “What do I say?”
“Ha. Ha. The newspaper man needs some words.” Pablo punched Jake in the arm.
Jake grinned. “Why weren’t you like this before? We could have hung out together.”
“The drugs, man. Makes you do crazy things. I’m praying Rosario will take me back and let me have a life with her and Antonio.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
A car alarm sounded.
“Then I’ll keep praying.”
Faith. Pablo had it. But did he? Could he ask God to forgive him? Trust God to save him and guide him in the right direction—the same God who allowed his father to die? Nope, he wasn’t ready to take that leap. Not yet. He needed more answers, more facts. And he knew where to get them.
~*~
At the animal shelter, Carlotta hooked the mixed breed dog up to a leash. The canine tugged in the opposite direction. This one would need leash training. She blew out a breath. Oh, well, there were worse ways to spend time on her day off.
She wiped sweat from her brow. Finally, the last task for the day. The new shelter director had been teaching her how to work with the dogs. Ed had given her simple tasks, helping to clean cages, walking dogs, playing with puppies. But the new director wanted her to be more hands on with all the canines, especially the adult dogs. Her fingers trembled, and she willed them to stop. Coming back to this place since Ed’s death had been hard.
Carlotta returned the dog to his cage and glanced at his nametag. She petted his muzzle. “So the name’s Jake. No wonder you like control.” What if Jake was serious? What if he had changed? But how could she be sure he wouldn’t cheat on her again?
The mutt whimpered and tilted his head. She scratched his chin.
Jake said he’d consider more infertility treatments, but what if he changed his mind again? And he’d been adamant he didn’t want a dog.
Her cell phone vibrated.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mrs. Hartman?”
She waved to the interim director as she left the building. The woman smiled and waved back. “Yes, may I ask who’s speaking?”
“This is Fred’s Flowers,” a man with a nasally voice said. “You called and wanted to know who sent some flowers to your sister’s duplex. I have the contact information. Do you want it?”
“Yes, please.” Carlotta opened her car door.
“Mr. Jake Hartman sent the flowers. His address is—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Are you sure? I have his address and phone number.”
“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary.” Carlotta ended the call. She had proof. She slumped behind the steering wheel.
Of all the sick things, and to try and tell her he’d changed. Someone was changing all right, but it wasn’t him.
What had happened to Jake? Had the stress from the infertility treatments pushed him to the brink? Maybe she should have just been content without children. Could this all somehow be her fault?
~*~
At the library, Carlotta filled a paper cup with water. At least she didn’t have to stress anymore about taking time off for infertility treatments. One less thing on her mind.
Someone touched her shoulder. “Girl, is everything OK? I heard you and Jake are getting a divorce,” Nicole whispered.
Carlotta took a deep breath. “Wow, word travels fast.” She guzzled the cool water.
“I’m sorry. I thought things were going so well. You were trying to have a baby.”
“We were. Life seemed good. But it’s over now. I need to move on.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you need to talk. I was married to an alcoholic, got divorced, then remarried, and found out I’d married another addict—this time a gambler. Later, I became a Christian, and through the help of a counselor, I learned I was attracted to addicts. I had some bad habits that needed changing—something called co-dependency.”
Carlotta rubbed her forehead. “I think it’s too late to get Jake help.”
“If you don’t feel comfortable sharing with a coworker, I understand. If you’d like to speak to a counselor, let me know, and I can give you the name of mine.”
“I’m not sure Jake wants to change.” Would a changed man send her strange notes and flowers?
“Maybe, but it might be good for you to talk to someone.”
Counseling for her? Carlotta’s voice shook. “Jake cheated on me and not the other way around. You think you know someone… Dad wasn’t there for me, and I thought I’d finally found someone with Jake.”
“Sometimes, we’re attracted to certain people, the wrong kinds, for a reason. As we go through life, we can pick up unhealthy habits from others—friends, family.”
Mom was an alcoholic. Jake might have a gambling problem. Carlotta gritted her teeth. “This has nothing to do with my family.” So her dad was unfaithful, too. “I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t need it.”
Nicole’s head dipped. “OK. Well, I’ll be praying for you.” Nicole glanced back once more before heading back to her desk. Was that a look of pity? Or disappointment that her wisdom had been rejected?
Carlotta’s muscles quivered. She crumpled the paper cup and tossed it in the trash. She rushed to the bathroom and slammed the stall door behind her. Sobs racked her body as she leaned against the stall wall. After bunching up toilet paper, she used it to dry her eyes. Once she’d composed herself, she walked back to her desk, head held high.
Other people went to counseling. People with problems. People like Jake. People like Nicole and her ex-husbands.
She was fine on her own. She didn’t need anyone or anything. Then why did everything hurt so much?
~*~
Jake’s toes scrunched in his beige living room carpet as he paced the floor. He could change. He could go to counseling. Or take another job. Even move if need be. Whatever she wanted. They could get back together. Things could improve. He’d even try the dreaded infertility treatments again if it’d bring her back in his life.
His mind flashed to his last meeting with Carlotta. She’d closed the door not just on him, but on their relationship. So all this counseling but she might not want him to contact her again.
Jake sat on the couch, and spied his granny’s Bible on the coffee table. He flipped it open—verse roulette. Song of Solomon 4:2. He read the verse. “Teeth like a flock of sheep? Huh?”
Nope, that didn’t apply. A piece of paper stuck out of one end. He flipped to the bookmarked page and found a highlighted scripture passage. Probably better than his hit-and-miss method anyway. Joshua 1:9. He read the verse. Be strong, huh? Good courage? Be not afraid. God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
Jake grabbed his keys and went out the door. He’d rather have her be mad at him than not warn her.
12
Carlotta pushed the book cart inside the library elevator. The faint scent of little sweaty bodies permeated the space, evidence that the children had made their way downstairs to look at books. Over the years, patrons complained about their kids doing this or that. If only they knew had badly she wanted to experience all that—having children of her own. The odor and noise weren’t all bad. It meant little ones were present. Maybe someday.
She pressed the button for the lower level. A man in an olive-colored trench coat stepped inside the elevator cab and tipped his hat at her. It had been a little cooler today with the slight cold front associated with the rain, but not that frigid. Maybe he got chilled easily. Her grandpa always ran cold.
Uneasiness swept over her. The animal shelter break-in, the pipe bombs, the missing women… Or maybe her judgment was clouded because she’d been trapped in the elevator before with Xavier.
As the doors closed, Nicole propped her hand between them and slipped inside the cab.
Carlotta relaxed. Nicole’s presence kept her from being alone in the elevator with the man. If he was some sort of bad guy, hopefully, he wouldn’t try anything with someone else in the elevator.
The doors closed. Nicole pressed the button for the next floor down. The elevator moved and then stopped. A ding sounded. After the doors opened, Nicole stepped outside and turned to face Carlotta. “See you later.” The doors closed, and the elevator moved again.
The cab jolted, then stopped.
Carlotta’s chest tightened. The walls of the cab suddenly appeared closer.
The man stared at her. “I think it’s stuck.”
Carlotta nodded. She propped her back up against the cart and chewed on a nail.
Removing his hat, the man stepped closer.
Carlotta moved into the corner and used her arms to brace herself. It wasn’t as if she had a weapon. Not even a pen. The emergency button was on the other wall. On the other side of the man. How would she get to it if needed? Breathe.
The man leaned closer. “Is everything OK?”
“Huh?” Breathe in, breathe out.
He stood next to her. “Are you OK? How are ya?”
“Other than being stuck inside an elevator with a stranger?”
“Sorry, let me introduce myself. I’m Tom Clyde.” He stood. “Let me see here.” He stood and studied the elevator button panel. He pressed the emergency call button.
A woman answered through the speaker. “Hello?”
“Hello, another patron and I are stuck in the elevator, probably somewhere between the main level and basement. Can you send some help?”
“Which elevator are you in?”
“Uh…” The man looked at Carlotta.
“Two,” she answered.
“I’ll have someone out to look at it shortly. Is everyone OK?”
The man gazed at Carlotta. His eyes appeared kind. Maybe she’d misjudged him.
She nodded.
“Yes, we’re OK. Thank you.”
The operator hung up, and the man reclined against the opposite wall of the cab.
“At least we’re all OK. No medical problems, no pregnant women.” He chuckled.
Carlotta huffed. No, certainly none of those.
Sudden understanding showed in the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Did I say something or do something to offend you? You look upset.”
“I… My husband and I weren’t able to have children. We tried for many years, but it wasn’t meant to be.” Why was she even telling a stranger such things?
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Yet he seemed like the kind of person who was easy to talk to. “It’s OK. I’m slowly getting over it.”
“My brother and his wife were infertile. They adopted three kids from China.”
Last time someone got stuck in here, they didn’t get out for over an hour. Stop thinking about that, concentrate on the conversation. You got this.
“That’s wonderful. Unfortunately, my husband and I aren’t together anymore.” Her voice came out stilted.
“I would expect infertility would put a large strain on a marriage.”
She blew out a breath. The walls were closing in on her. Dreaded claustrophobia had to hit right now. “Infertility and adultery.”
“Oh.”
Just keep talking. Don’t think about being trapped. “Yep, soon we’ll be divorced.”
“He didn’t want to work things out?”
What was that mindfulness exercise she’d read about? “Oh, probably. But how can I trust him now? I’m sorry, this is probably too personal.”
“It’s OK, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.” The man looked at his watch.
The walls were not moving. Help hadn’t arrived.
Count the tiles. Maybe that would work. One. Two.
After several minutes passed, Carlotta spoke up. “Things were so difficult near the end. The divorce will make things easier.”
“Hm.”
“What does that mean?”
“Marriage is tough, but I don’t think going through a divorce is exactly easy, either.”
A loud noise. The elevator doors opened to show the heads of two workers stuck between the two floors.
“Climb out this way, please. Be careful,” the man said.
“So, are you saying I should get back together with him?” Carlotta asked as she moved to the opening.
“I’m just telling you that some wives who walk through my door don’t have the opportunity for reconciliation. Some wish they did.” He handed her a card and moved aside. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Ma’am, this way, please.” the worker beckoned.
The man gestured to the door opening. “Ladies first. Do you need some help climbing out?”
“No, thank you. I can manage.” Carlotta stuffed the card in her pocket and crawled through the opening. She looked back inside the elevator cab. “My cart.”
“We’ll have to remove it later. I’m sorry,” the worker said.
“OK. I understand. I’ll be over in the nonfiction section if you need to find me later.” Carlotta pointed to her nametag. “I’m Carlotta Hartman.” She cringed and then walked away from the elevators. Still Hartman. Still married to Jake. Still his wife. To have and to hold, and all that other stuff. She shook her head. No, he’d thrown that all away with his affair. He didn’t want her anymore. Maybe he and the blonde would get married and have children, have the happy family the two of them never could have. She pulled the man’s card from her pocket and examined it. Thomas Clyde, Senior Pastor, Cincinnati Evangelical Free Church. Hadn’t she and Jake visited there once or twice several years ago? Minus the hat and trench coat, he seemed familiar.
She stuffed the card back in her pocket and strode over to the newspapers. Hopefully, the workers would have her cart freed soon, and she could get back to work. She spread a newspaper across a table and sat down. She studied the latest editorial on the missing women. Where were they being taken? What happened to them? Carlotta pinched the skin at her throat. Could this somehow be related to the break-in at the animal shelter, or were they unrelated? What if she had been at the animal shelter that night instead of Ed? She could be missing, too, or worse. She squeezed her eyes shut. A firm hand grasped her shoulder. Her eyes shot open, and she gasped.
Geoffrey stood behind her.
Carlotta relaxed. “Whew. It’s only you.” She pointed to the paper. “Have you read about the missing women?”
Geoffrey nodded. “It is tragic.” He took a seat next to her. “What is the matter?”
“What if that night at the animal shelter, someone was trying to kidnap me?”
“Then I would have heard you scream and would have come running to your rescue.”
Carlotta turned back toward the newspaper article. “I’m serious, Geoffrey.”
