Robyn Carr - Forbidden Falls

“Oh, your lips to God’s ears. Listen,” she said, “I’m pissed as hell about this, plus my kids are all torn up. I left them crying and begging and clawing for me with Arnie holding them back and threatening them. But I’m afraid of him, you know? Afraid he’ll take it out on them or something.”

Noah thought for a second. Then he said, “Wait a minute—did he suggest you resolve this problem by moving back in with him?”

“Not exactly, but he did say we could’ve been a family if I hadn’t been so impossible. That’s not true, by the way. I tried—for two months and twenty-six days. He’s the stubbornest, most unreasonable man I’ve ever—”

He grabbed her hand. “Come on,” he said, pulling her out of the bathroom.

“What the hell …? What are you doing?”

He stopped right at his office door and slowly unbuttoned the paint-splattered work shirt that she wore. “We’re gonna go get your kids. It’s your day.”

He hung the shirt on his office doorknob. He looked at her low-cut, sleeveless T-shirt, her tight jeans. He sighed. Well, this was Ellie. No doubt this had always been Ellie. And he was in a position he’d never been in before in his life—he liked her just fine the way she was. The fact that he worried about the judgment of others made him furious with himself.

“I have to rinse my roller, my pan …”

“No time. Let’s go,” he said.

“Noah,” she said, pulling back. “If the paint dries on the roller …”

“I’ll get you a new roller tomorrow,” he said. He crouched and looked deeply into Lucy’s eyes. “You stay here. Take a nap. No painting.” Then he pulled Ellie out of the side door of the church. “If you’re right, and it sounds like you are, he wants you back. Ellie, do you think he cares about your kids? Do you think he wants them, on any level?”

“The kids annoy him. He doesn’t do things with them, like play or read or anything. He wants them quiet, neat, invisible. All kids annoy him. Really, he’s the last person who should be the principal of an elementary school….”

“Private school, you said.”

“Yeah, private. More money there, he said.”

Noah’s brain was working. Maybe a small private school wasn’t so picky about things like credentials, and past work problems. Noah wondered what Arnie’s employment history would reveal. “He’s punishing you, Ellie. Don’t buckle. Let’s go get your kids.”

“What are you going to do?” she wanted to know.

“I’m going to do to him what you did to Nick Fitch— but I’m going to do it in a pure ministerial, manipulative and threatening kind of way.” He grinned. “We’ll have to take your car so we have room for the kids. I’ll drive. Now, where are we going?”

Noah pulled into a neighborhood in Redway, just north of Garberville. The houses were a lot alike in shape and size, but were painted a variety of colors. Most had two stories with dormer windows, porches, detached garages and front walks. Some boasted pampered lawns and summer flowers, some weren’t quite so well loved. They were all what Noah would consider small—maybe three bedrooms, as well as attics and basements. They were all nestled into tall trees.

Noah drove very slowly because kids were playing in the street. There were a few riding their bikes around in circles while a group in the center appeared to be playing kickball. A couple of parents were busy with the usual Saturday chores—cutting the lawn, digging in the garden, washing the car.

“It’s that house,” she said, pointing. “There’s a black SUV in the driveway.”

“Are your kids out here?” he asked. As he drove slowly down the street, the legion of kids separated to let his car pass.

“No. Arnie doesn’t let them play outside unsupervised. And he doesn’t have time to supervise, so they never had a chance to make friends.”

“Do you have any idea what I should expect?” Noah asked.

She took a breath. “He’s a chameleon, Noah. He fooled me for quite a while. The school secretary worships him, she thinks he’s a kind, devout man, who’s strict and doesn’t put up with bad behavior, but he’s beyond strict. He can be nice when it suits him. His favorite saying is, ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick.’ His other favorite is, ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ By now the neighbors hate him because he’s antisocial and wouldn’t allow the kids to interact with their kids. He’ll probably be very nice to you, but don’t fall for it.”

Like that’s new to me, Noah thought. A lot of people treated him with deference and extreme politeness when they’d prefer not to talk to him at all. They were talking to the minister, not the man. Not only that, but his father had been that kind of man—a charmer at church and a demon at home. That experience gave him an edge—he knew exactly what he would be dealing with.

“If there’s no TV in the house, what’s he doing in there?”

“He’s on his laptop all the time. All the time. He carries it around with him. When I got too close and might see what he was doing, he’d close it. My babysitter, from the duplex? She said he might be playing games. You know—real complicated games that have other people online from all over the place? Or maybe he’s looking at dirty pictures. Lord, I have no idea. But that’s what keeps him busy all the time.”

“Interesting,” Noah said. “I’m on my laptop a lot, too. But you can read over my shoulder anytime and just get bored to death.” He pulled alongside the curb at the front walk. “Do me a favor and stay in the car, for right now at least.”

“Why?” she asked, already out of her seat belt.

“Because I’m going to give him a chance to preserve his manhood, which will be hard for him to do in front of you. Let me try reasoning with him.”

“Oh, you better watch out.”

“I’m not a naive goody-goody, Ellie. Ministers deal with more dysfunctional people than strippers do, believe me.”

“I bet you’re right,” she agreed.

“Stay in the car and don’t ruin my show.” And with that, he got out and strode purposefully up the walk.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that his knock was not answered. He rang the bell, he knocked again, he rang and knocked and hoped it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn’t going to stop. Finally the door opened and the man standing there looked completely composed and not in the least ruffled. Ellie hadn’t mentioned he was a big, ugly guy. Oh, man, how Arnie must have lusted after Ellie! This was not a guy who had a long line of women waiting to hook up with him.

Arnie smiled without showing any teeth and there was a slight tic in his jaw.

“Arnie Gunterson?” Noah asked, putting out his hand.

“Arnold Gunterson,” he said. “Normally when people don’t answer the door, they’re either not at home or not interested in company.”

“I’m Reverend Noah Kincaid, and I knew you were home because your car’s in the driveway,” he said, his hand still out.

Arnie burst out laughing, but there was not an ounce of humor in his eyes. “Reverend?” he asked, looking Noah up and down. So what if he was wearing worn jeans and a plaid flannel shirt over a waffled, gray, long-sleeved T-shirt? “Reverend of what? The church of hope and BS?”

Noah tried to ignore him, though it did briefly cross his mind to get that haircut and some of what he always called “town clothes.” “Forgive me for being so determined, but it is imperative I speak with you before calling the police department,” Noah said.

“Why would you go to the police? Is it against the law not to answer the door?”

Noah finally pulled back his hand. Arnie was six feet or so and broad shouldered, but he was thick around the middle. He looked about forty years old and had an awful big head. His light brown hair was going thin, but it was neatly combed back from a long, wide forehead. His face was slightly flushed, suggesting he had high blood pressure or had been holding in some anger. Noah glanced at the hands that hung at Arnie’s sides; they were loose and relaxed. “Not at all, Mr. Gunterson. It’s against the law to defy a court-ordered visitation agreement. Miss Baldwin is in my car. She’s my employee, she works for the Virgin River Presbyterian Church now. And while she was willing to let the matter go, I thought it was important for her to see her children, and I insisted on stepping in.”