Where the Darkness Goes

Chapter 43

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

TESSA — PRESENT DAY

“Will isn’t here right now.” My hands tremble, and I grip the door to steady them, hoping he won’t notice. Will’s words ring in my ears, the warning about looking at Pastor Charles in a way that might clue him in to the fact that I know his secret. If he knows, he could kill me.

It’s a terrifying realization, considering this is the man I spent most of my life convinced could read my mind in the pew from where he stood at the pulpit.

Pastor Charles steps forward, like he’s preparing to come inside, but I stand my ground, so he’s suddenly right in my face, nearly touching me. He pushes his small, wire-rimmed glasses back on top of his head. I used to think he was so handsome, but he’s my dad. The dad that I’ve dreamed of knowing, grieved my entire life, was always right here. I can kind of see it now in Will’s blond hair and the wrinkle in the space between his eyes. I can’t help mentally cataloging all of my friends and classmates now, looking for the similarities.

This is so messed up.

I force the thoughts away.

“Would you mind if I waited for him? Mrs. Krueger said she saw him coming into town this morning. A day earlier than usual, in fact. You must be relieved to get some extra time with him.” He makes no effort to step back, just keeps staring at me, his green eyes drilling into mine.

My phone is in my back pocket. If I could get to it without him seeing, I could call 911, but it’s too big a risk. My heart pounds in my ears as I stare him down. “He went to visit Mom at Oak Meadows. You could probably find him there.” I hate that I’m sending him anywhere near them, but if I can get him out of here, I will call Will and warn him.

Pastor Charles clears his throat and takes a half step back finally. “Is everything okay, Tessa?”

My heart is a spinning top that has fallen over. Every breath is shaky. “Of course.” Then I add, “Um, I just, I’m not feeling well. I really shouldn’t have company.”

“Nonsense,” he says. “The Lord only gives us what’s meant for us, sickness included. You shouldn’t be alone if you’re ill. Will should know better.” His hand goes to my forehead, his smooth palm brushing my skin, and I feel sick. My father should’ve done this. If you were any father to me, you would’ve done this. The heavy scent of his cologne fills my nostrils as he clicks his tongue and lowers his hand. “You don’t feel warm. Have you been running a fever?”

“I took medicine earlier. Dr. Jacobs said it’s a virus.”

He looks over my head. “I should stay until Will is back.”

“That’s okay. I’d really rather?—”

“Your mother wouldn’t want you to be alone.” He pushes the door open abruptly, moving past me, and his mention of my mother sends me into a spiral.

With his back to me, I pull out my phone, hand shaking.

“It’s a tragedy what happened to Britney, you know,” Pastor Charles says. When I look up, he’s staring at me, and the look in his eyes chills me to my bones. “I know the two of you were very close.”

I nod, my voice completely absent from my throat. I fight to find it. “It’s been really hard on everyone.”

“When anyone in our community suffers, we all do.” His voice carries the same weight it does every Sunday morning. I should be able to trust him. I hate this universe we’ve slipped into. Where the good people are suddenly bad, and the ones you thought you could trust, you suddenly can’t. Perhaps if I can buy time, talk to him about Britney, Will and Garrett will arrive home.

That’s the only way out of this. I have to be smart.

“I, um, I was wondering if you know anything about Britney’s death.” His eyes widen, and I quickly add, “I mean, any more than what they’ve said in the paper. I’m struggling with the idea that she was in such a dark place, you know? I just thought…maybe she would have told you if she was struggling with something. Maybe the rest of us didn’t see it.”

He nods, pulling the glasses the rest of the way off of his head and tucking them into his shirt pocket. “She did confide in me that she and her husband were struggling with the news that she was expecting again.”

That news shocks me to my core. “She was pregnant?” I wonder if Kristy knows this. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned it?

“She was. And her husband wasn’t happy.”

I swallow, because I already know her husband isn’t able to have kids anymore. She told me when he had his vasectomy right after their second daughter was born. I guess he might’ve had it reversed later, though that seems unlikely, especially if he was unhappy about the pregnancy. Britney always said she wanted two girls, and that was exactly what she got.

But if the baby’s not Justin’s, what does that mean? For all I know, he could be lying, but why?

If they do a paternity test on the baby, there’s no doubt they’ll find out the baby wasn’t his. But I suspect Pastor Charles doesn’t know that Justin had a vasectomy. I remember what Kristy said about the police suspecting Britney had been having an affair.

“I can’t believe he was mad.” I pretend to think out loud. “Why didn’t she tell me about the baby?”

He folds his hands, massaging his thumbs over the skin of his knuckles. “We can’t begin to judge our brothers and sisters on their journeys. The Bible says a good man’s heart pumps God’s word like blood through his veins, Miss Becker. We’re all tempted in life. We all fail our Father. But what’s in our veins matters—both the sin and God’s word. I believe Britney Davis had the Lord in her heart. She won’t be answering for any more sins than you or I will. All we can do is pray for ’em. Right now, what Britney’s family needs more than anything is for us to pray for ’em real hard.”

Even as he says the thoughtful, gentle words, there’s something almost bitter in his tone. Something borderline vindictive. Am I imagining it?

I swallow, forcing away a theory growing in my mind. It’s ridiculous. Impossible. Britney would never have cheated on Justin. Not with Pastor Charles, a man old enough to be our… The man who is my father. If it’s true, if there’s some sick dimension where it’s true, Britney was carrying my half-sibling. I can’t breathe.

“Yes. Of course.” I start to move past him. “Lots of prayers. I, um, I’m going to make something to drink. Can I get you tea or coffee? I think there’s some lemonade in there.”

“You sit,” Pastor Charles says, the command radiating through me. “Let me help. I should be the one getting you something, since you’re under the weather and all.” He smirks. “Name your poison.”

His words creep across my skin like a spider. Now’s my chance to call for help. “A glass of tea would be great. There are cups in the cabinet by the fridge.”

He turns to walk away, but stops before he reaches the threshold. “How’s your mother, by the way? I keep meaning to stop by and visit her, but I haven’t had the chance to. I think Mabel probably visits enough for the two of us.” He laughs under his breath.

Something about the question sends chills down my spine. I think about my mom then, about her going to work every day under the thumb of this man. About how badly he must’ve hurt her and how he wielded his power over everyone in this town, including her, all my life.

I also think about her accident and how the doctors have never been able to determine whether she had the stroke before she fell down the stairs or if the fall down the stairs caused the stroke. Something tickles in the back of my brain. “Oh, you hadn’t heard? She’s alert now. Talking and everything.”

He visibly pales. “What?”

“Yeah. That’s why Will came home early and why he’s there now visiting. I just got back. She was able to say a few words last night and this morning. They’ll still need to do physical therapy for her to walk again, but the doctors can’t believe it. I guess prayer works after all.”

He nods, patting the pocket where his glasses are with trembling hands, as if he might’ve lost them. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

A new idea occurs to me. A flicker of possibility in this upside down world we find ourselves in today. “Yeah, it’s strange. The doctor said her memory is still a little fuzzy, but she remembers a man who visited her the day of her accident.”

His eyes narrow. “A man?”

Suddenly, he’s eerily still.

“Did you know of any man she’d been seeing? I know how close you two are. I just thought she might’ve told you.”

“As a matter of fact…” He pauses, taking a moment to breathe. His hand goes to his stomach as he looks away. “Oh, your mother wouldn’t like me to tell you this, and the Lord doesn’t like a gossip, but she did confess to me that she’d been seeing someone new. You know how we get to talking while we work. Sometimes the truth just slips out.”

“Oh?”

“I’m afraid he’s a married man.” He nods. Very solemn. Very serious. As if his mask has been ripped off all at once, I see the liar within. The darkness. I see everything he’s been hiding, and I know how easily he could’ve manipulated Mom, Will, and everyone else in this town.

I fidget in place. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like her.”

“Now, I don’t want you to think badly of her. We all make our choices, and no sin is worse than another, but it’s true. She was seeing Anthony Davis. Britney’s father-in-law.”

I gasp, drawing my brows down in a good little act. “What? No. ”

“Yes, yes. I’m afraid so. In fact, we should probably go to the police, don’t you think? In case he did something untoward to cause her accident. I don’t want to believe it, but if she’s saying there was a man with her that day, well, I’ve never known your mother to be a liar. Of course, she could be confused. But if not, if Anthony wanted to keep his secret, well, I don’t want to accuse him, but you never know what people will do.” He leans his head to the side with a sympathetic look. “You’re sick, though. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. Your mom has been very loyal to me.” His hand goes to his chest. “I consider her family. Let me visit with her, then I’ll talk to Anthony. And then, once we have all the information, we can go to the police together if we decide it’s necessary.” The sincerity on his face makes me nauseous. I can see right through it, but I can so easily see how I once might not have.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” He nods again, hurrying past me and across the room toward the door. With his back to me, I glance down at my phone still in my hand, preparing to call the police and then Will as soon as I get the chance. When I look up, he’s standing in place, watching me. “I think I should take that, Tessa.”

My heart drops, and I swear it’s a feeling as painful as if it hit every rib on the way down. “My phone?”

“The Lord doesn’t like a gossip. The Bible says if your hand causes you to sin, you should cut it off and throw it away. Let me remove the temptation for you. At least until we have all the facts. I know how tempting it will be to tell someone what I’ve confided in you.”

“I don’t think I can give you my phone, Pastor Charles. Will might need me. Or Kristy. I won’t call anyone, though. You have my word. I would never want Mom’s reputation to be ruined by rumors.”

He nods slowly, his jaw moving side to side as he releases a slow breath through his nose. “How about a compromise?” His lips twist into what should be a smile but looks more like a grimace. “Why don’t you lock it away in the china cabinet?” He points to Mom’s old china cabinet sitting against the wall in the hallway. It’s mostly empty now, but I can remember when it was full of her collectible dolls.

“Why would I do that?” I press. Come on, Will. Where are you? It could still be hours before they come home. I’m on my own here. Completely and utterly alone.

“We could lock it up, and I’ll take the key, and then when I see Will at Oak Meadows, I’ll explain everything and give it to him. By this afternoon, you’ll be free to have your phone again no problem.”

“I don’t think I’m okay with that,” I say. I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye, and I hate myself for it.

“Tessa, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.” He holds a hand out, gesturing toward the hallway. “It’s for your own good.”

His voice, the chilly tone it has taken on, sends a shard of ice through my core. I nod and turn around. I don’t have a choice. He’s going to make me do it. Once he leaves, I’ll use a voice command to call Will. I’ll shout through the glass. It’ll be okay.

Slowly, I make my way across the room toward the hall with Pastor Charles just behind me. I can practically feel him breathing on my neck. We reach the china cabinet, and I look up, lifting my hand to open the door.

In the reflection in the glass, I catch a glimpse of Pastor Charles behind me, his face hard, and the words spill out of me before I can stop them. “Did you hurt my mom?”

His face doesn’t change. “I’m sorry.” I see it coming seconds too late. The green wooden lamp that’s usually on the end table beside the couch is in his hand, and he lifts it up.

He swings, and strikes my skull with all his might.

Crack. With the impact, my head is thrown forward.

My forehead slams into the metal, ornate knob on the china cabinet.

I pull back, dizzy, and pain explodes in the back of my head as the lamp connects with my skull again.

I tumble forward, my head a raging kaleidoscope of reds and blues and yellows and stars. Black splotches fill my vision, making it impossible to see what he’s doing. I try to sit up, but my head is filled with sandbags.

I drop back down just as another blow slams into me. The scream that leaves my mouth is animal-like. It doesn’t sound human. It doesn’t sound like me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

The word is funny. Sort of squishy and round.

Around and around and around we go.

The world spins round, and I’m right there with it. My head is warm, throbbing, and nothing makes sense.

Sense.

Sentence.

Sequentence. Is that a word?

Tessa.

It’s my name, I think, but I can’t be sure where it came from.

I can’t even be sure it’s my name.

In the distance, a door slams, and there are footsteps.

Feet.

Feet.

Impossible feet.

Everything hurts, and the words slip away from me like the name of a song I can’t place. The sounds fade. It’s scary, in a safe way. Like it should be scary, but it’s not. It’s a cloud. A pillow. And I’m sinking into it. Someone touches me, and I’m on my back, but I can’t focus on that. I can’t focus on anything. My head is a boulder, sinking down, down, down.

My hearing goes first so I’m floating in nothingness, then my vision fades completely to black, and I’m gone.