Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [140]
“Seeing someone else? I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t blame him if he was, after all this time. But we’re cordial, and honestly, I do think he’s behaving. I know I am.”
“Are you?”
“I am, Dad. It’s not easy. And don’t think I don’t have my opportunities.”
“I’d really rather not discuss it, if you don’t mind.”
“I know. Sorry. I just thought you’d want to know that I’m doing the right thing, even by your standards.”
“Well, I appreciate that. But you say Dirk is so busy. . . .”
“Dad, if you’re not going to call him, I will.”
“How would that look?”
“It’ll look like what it is. That you don’t want to bother him but that I knew he’d jump on this. Now I’m calling him, and that’s all there is to it.”
Addison
Brady Wayne Darby was helplessly, haplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his mug, and everyone teased him about it.
He and Katie were careful to follow most of the rules, especially the ones that showed. She had him back at Serenity on time every time, and while she allowed him to drive the car, it was rarely on the open road, and he drove like an old lady.
On one of their afternoon outings, after they spent their first twenty minutes making out, she drove to the motorcycle dealership. Katie made all kinds of noises to the salesman about looking to buy one of the top models if she could just get used to riding it.
Since Brady didn’t have a driver’s license, she left hers and the Benz at the shop while he climbed on the back of a top-of-the-line Screamin’ Eagle V-Rod. She drove, but once they were out of sight of the dealership, they changed places.
Brady was skittish as a new colt, reminding her that if he tipped it or caused any damage, she was going to have to take the heat or see him sent back to prison. “Where’d you learn to ride anyway?” he said.
“My boyfriends have always had Harleys.”
“Am I gonna have one too?”
“I actually prefer the Fat Boy,” she said. “And, no, I’m not buying you a bike. I will rent one, though, as soon as you prove you can handle it. I want us to come flying up to my house, rattling every window on the street. Then I’ll tell my dad I just met you, that you picked me up at the mall and gave me a ride.”
Brady was howling. “What I wouldn’t give for one of these,” he said.
“Stay close, sweetie.”
Oh, Brady loved this girl. She was crazy, but so was he. And best of all, just the thought of her was keeping him on the straight and narrow. Of course, had she said the word, he also would have committed any felony she asked. But for now he studied like he never had before, was diligent at his every chore, and was earnest and forthcoming with Jan and with Bill, his new parole officer. Well, as forthcoming as he dared. He wasn’t about to tell anyone about the phone, driving, and riding the Harley.
Brady was up at the same time every day, starting to work out (he actually ran a few blocks, but he was so new to it and his system so wracked by cigarettes, he wasn’t sure he had a future in jogging), and was cleaned up and ready to go early.
Bill had a list of local employers willing to take a chance on the top Serenity members. “It won’t be much at first, but as you gain their trust and prove yourself, who knows?”
It sounded good to Brady. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself when it came to Katie North, but he would have sworn she felt about him the way he felt about her. It didn’t add up, and he found it hard to believe. But she never talked about other guys, and they text messaged each other all the time and talked by phone when they could. And every few days, she picked him up for a couple of hours of fun.
Life could hardly get better.
Adamsville
Thomas found himself thinking about the pastorate again. In the prison system, if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. But at sixty, his energy level was already keeping him from diving into the daily grind, the same problem he would have if he switched careers again. And who but a tiny congregation without much money would want a man his age in the pulpit anyway,