Her mother’s voice took on an edge of irritation. “You know why I left the Presbyterian Church. When your father was dying, Pastor Ron couldn’t be bothered to visit him in the hospital. And remember, even you thought the funeral was awful. He barely even mentioned the deceased or all he’d done for the church over a long span. I believe Reverend Ray is sincere, and I enjoy his message. Besides, nobody’s forcing you to give them money.”
Emma furrowed her brow, knowing full well her mother was right. “Mom, there are other churches. Why dedicate yourself to a person who is so obviously a fraud?”
“That’s your opinion,” Ruth answered tersely. “I’d appreciate you letting me make my own choices as to my religious beliefs.”
Her mother’s tone left Emma feeling like a berated child. “Forget I said anything.”
Ruth stared into the face of her daughter. Her only child had a lovely heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes. Wisely, she changed the subject. “I do appreciate you wanting to take me to my doctor’s appointment, but it’s not as if I’m an invalid.” Emma started to protest, but Ruth held up an open palm and continued, “I’m only seventy-nine, Emma, not a hundred, and I haven’t had so much as a ticket in over thirty years—”
“Mom!” Emma interrupted. “That’s not why I’m going with you. I want to hear what the doctor has to say.”
Ruth was forty-four when she’d had Emma, and the pregnancy had caught her and Orville by happy surprise. She distinctly remembered holding her daughter in those first precious minutes, marveling that in this new life, she was seeing herself. As a child, adolescent, and young woman, her daughter had a temper to be reckoned with. Ruth shook her head at the memory. “You have my eyes and your Aunt Irene’s temperament.”
Emma’s eyes flashed. “Why are you talking about this?”
Her anger had always festered below the surface, even as a little girl. It had become so bad that Ruth and Orville chose to get Emma into therapy when she started breaking things in unprovoked rages. The therapist thought perhaps her anger stemmed from being an only child.
Ruth said, “It’s too bad we couldn’t give you a brother or a sister. I’ve always wondered if you wouldn’t be incensed so easily if you’d had a sibling to help care for.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance. Ruth realized she should have never broached this subject. “Why on earth are we discussing my temper? You and Dad were the ones that thought I needed to see a shrink.”
Ruth moved to the edge of her chair and patted her daughter’s arm. “I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have said that. But, when you get angry, you get exceedingly upset, which has always concerned me.”
Emma shrugged her shoulders in irritation. “I know it has. But my anger is under control now, and there’s nothing to worry about.” She paused, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Can we get back to your doctor’s appointment, please? I should go with you and hear what he has to say.”
Ruth hated this “reversal of roles,” as she thought of it. She smiled good-naturedly at her daughter. “Don’t trust me to tell you what the doctor says?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” Emma paused and grinned at her mother. “All right, I do have an agenda. I thought we could do a little shopping and have lunch. That spring coat of yours has seen better days, and Dillard’s has London Fog on sale. It would be my treat because you could use a new coat.”
Ruth would give in, but on one condition. “We can do that—although you don’t have to pay for a coat—if we’ll be done in time for you to pick up Katrina at school.”
“We’ll have plenty of time. Katrina has her last soccer game as a senior, and Jack’s going to meet us there.”
Jack. From Ruth’s perspective, they’d married far too young, and they’d made some bad choices that had haunting consequences. They’d met in Emma’s freshman year at Washington University, where Jack was a junior. Both were smart enough to be chosen valedictorians of their high school graduating classes and to land college scholarships, but not smart enough to practice responsible birth control. Emma was pregnant with Elizabeth before her sophomore year; they married, and she dropped out. Katrina followed less than a year later, and Emma vowed to finish her degree once Jack had graduated.
Emma resumed writing dates in her calendar, and Ruth contemplated her approach. As a mother and grandmother, she was concerned, and rightfully so she thought, about the welfare of her family. If she asked Emma how she and Jack were doing, would she reply with an honest answer or avoid the subject? Ruth decided she had nothing to lose. “Not to pry, but how are things between you and Jack?”
Emma poked at the air with her pen, avoiding eye contact. “We’re in counseling, trying to work through our problems, but the process is slow. And I’m not sure I like the therapist Jack found.”
Ruth wasn’t convinced Emma was telling the truth, even as she looked her mother in the eye.
“I’m not sure what else to say, Mom.”
Ruth thought Emma’s often volatile temper didn’t help matters but wouldn’t say another word. “I hate to see my family struggling,” she said, distracted by the flickering television as The Road to Calvary was coming to an end. “Emma, would you turn that up? I like to recite the prayer of deliverance with the Reverend Ray.”
Grabbing the remote, Emma increased the volume, the disgust in her voice obvious. “You understand this show is taped, right? I swear, Mom, I can’t believe you waste your time on this crap.”
4
THE SAME DAY LINCOLN, NEBRASKA DISCIPLES OF CHRIST CHURCH
Darlene Jordan had left three messages on Captain Turner’s voicemail by the time the women faced one another across a wooden table in a small church conference room. “My apologies for calling so many times, but I have information that can help you.”
Captain Turner removed a notepad and pen from her purse and smiled at Darlene. “We appreciate that.”
Across from her, Darlene sat up straight, penetrating eyes set in a round, expressive face. “The first thing you need to understand is that I never liked or trusted Nicole Hansen. I’ll tell you right now she was embezzling from the church.”
“That’s a serious accusation, Mrs. Jordan. Let’s start from the beginning, and take me through a timeline of events,” Captain Turner coaxed, writing “embezzled” at the top of the page. “She came to the church?”
“Yes,” Darlene said. “Walked in off the street in early 1996, saying she’d recently arrived in town and was looking for a church.”
“That’s not terribly unusual, is it?”
“Not at all. Shortly after she became a member, she started coming in during the week, asking to help as a volunteer. That’s not uncommon either, and I had plenty of work I could use help with, so I took her up on it. Gregory was here most days during the week—pastors put in long hours—and pretty soon, if Gregory was here, Nicole was here, too.”
“Is that out of the ordinary?” Captain Turner asked, tapping her pen against the pad.