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Echoes From the Past (The Almond Tree Series) (Volume 2)

By June Foster

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Chapter One


Fatigue robbed Dave of the last ounce of energy. Though his stomach growled, he'd resort to the same menu as last night, some delectable dinner in a cardboard carton from the freezer—probably spaghetti and meatballs again. He plopped down on the couch under the picture window and released a long breath. In the cool April mornings, the shrub outside had already flowered with purple blossoms.
The spacious three-bedroom home the congregation provided was plenty comfortable, just too big for a bachelor. At the last elders' meeting, he didn't miss Mr. Crenshaw's implication, though cloaked in polite wording. Most pastors of a church the size of New Life had a wife and children.
Then the man's words had turned caustic. "Humph. If you want to know the truth, I question whether a twenty-nine-year-old single man can be equipped to effectively serve. How could you possibly understand parishioners who struggle with marriages or problems with children?" Mr. Crenshaw's words drilled into Dave like a dentist's tool. Thank the Lord the other elders seemed to ignore him and breezed right through the rest of the meeting.
Dave raised his hands in the air. He didn't have a woman in his life now and hadn't found the desire to go on the hunt for one. After that year in Los Angeles, God probably decided he couldn't be trusted with a relationship again, at least not anytime soon.
Beth had been his world seven years ago, and he'd forgotten every Christian value he'd ever held when she nestled in his arms. Golden blond hair the color of summer's sun and eyes as blue as a forget-me-not. But later, he had to forget her. She wanted none of his Christian walk or his calling.
Dave's stomach gave one more ferocious growl. He pulled up from the couch to investigate the freezer. Twenty paces took him from the living room to the functional kitchen with three times as much space as he needed. Before he reached the refrigerator, the doorbell dinged. Probably the paper boy, come to collect.
Turning around, he retraced his steps through the living room to the front door. A peek through the spy hole revealed a petite blonde. Hmm. Not the paper boy. No one from his congregation, either.
He opened the door and stuck his head out. "Yes, may I help you?"
The person on his doorstep, looking official in her gray business suit with tight skirt, lifted manicured fingers for a hand shake and gripped a brief case with the other. "Hello, I'm Betty Ann Johnston with El Camino Department of Children and Families. Are you Reverend Reyes?"
Maybe she's looking for a donation from New Life, but why not come to the church? He shook her hand. "Yes, I'm Dave Reyes."
She pointed to the badge attached to her tailored jacket over a lacy pink blouse. "I need to speak to you about official business with our agency. Would it be all right if I come in?" Not quite a smile, yet not an unpleasant expression settled on her face. A businesslike demeanor surrounded her.
He stood back from the doorway to let her in. "That's fine, but if this is something my secretary at church can handle, it would be better for you to come to New Life."
With a perky step, she marched into the living room, glancing around as if inspecting every corner. She shook her short blond hair, cut to fall around her face. "No, this doesn't have anything to do with your profession as a pastor."
Did he imagine that the words carried a hint of sarcasm? Dave held out his hand to the couch where he'd reclined only minutes before. The pillow sat askew, and he reached down and fluffed it. "Please, sit down." He edged into the easy chair.
Ms. Johnston tossed a strand of hair back and sat, setting her briefcase on the floor. She locked her ankles and yanked her short skirt as far down as it would go—to her knees. "Reverend Reyes, as I said, I work for El Camino's non-profit, community-based organization. Our primary goal is child advocacy. We place our candidates in foster care, provide adoption services, and generally look to the welfare of children who have no other options."
"I see." Dave scratched his head. "But I don't understand what that has to do with me." Maybe her agency wanted to bring some of the children to participate in Sunday school activities, though he doubted it. A governmental organization wouldn't associate with a religious one.
She pulled a file out of her briefcase and opened it, flipping through the papers within. "I'm afraid what I have to say will be shocking."
With a furrowed brow, Dave scooted to the edge of his chair. What was up with this woman? He'd never dealt with the department in all his years in El Camino. "Yes? I'm listening."
Bright blue eyes pierced him, prompting him to wince. "Sir, do you recall a Miss Beth Walker originally from Los Angles?"
Beth? "Yes, she was …" He couldn't say my ex-girlfriend and lover. That wouldn't go over well with Ms. Johnston. Especially since she knew he was a pastor. "Yeah, we were friends."
Ms. Johnston thumbed through a few more papers and locked her gaze on him again. "If I were to guess, I'd say your relationship could be defined as more than friends. You may not be aware, but six years ago, Miss Walker gave birth to a daughter."
The chair suddenly became confining as if it had shrunk, and he shifted. "No, I didn't know."
Her gaze continued to hold his. "Our agency believes the child is yours."
As if she'd poured ice cold water down his back, he shuddered. The words echoed in his brain, yet he didn't want to believe them. Beth, a woman from the past, a less than honorable moment in his life, a time when he'd turned his back on God's will, had a baby? A baby that could be his? Nonsense.
He peered at Ms. Johnston. "She was never pregnant as long as I knew her."
"Not that you were aware of, but yes, she had a baby—a little girl."
Beth had been expecting? Sure it would've been possible, but why didn't she tell him?
Wait. The shapely woman sitting on his couch wasn't a child advocate as she claimed. He threw his shoulders back and laughed. "Okay, I get it. Today is April 1, better known as April Fool's Day. Who put you up to this?"
A wrinkle formed between Betty Ann's eyes. She shook her head, removed her badge, and handed it to him. "I assure you this is no joke. If you'd like to examine my identification closer, you will see my ID number, picture, and the name of my organization. I am a child welfare case worker. But, frankly, this isn't about me." She fished in her briefcase and pulled out two documents. "This is your daughter's birth certificate if you'd like to examine it." Tipping her petite nose up, she gave him a look that conveyed impatience. "And a copy of Beth's will requesting the child's biological father receive custody."
As if Dave had accidentally stepped onto a movie set, he floundered. Surreal. But if she spoke the truth, his life had taken a one-eighty. "Look, I need to have more proof that you're a social worker. This is fantastical. I'm sorry, but I don't believe you."
Dave took both items from her, first examining the picture on the front of the badge and the name, Betty Ann Johnston. He slowly turned it over to inspect the other side, delaying the process of recognizing the validity of her position. The birth certificate looked legitimate as well. Where the father's name was listed, the words David Reyes frolicked before his eyes, taunting him.
As if iron bars caged him, restricting movement, he lifted a heavy hand to her, returning the badge and certificate. "Where is Beth and why am I only learning of this now?" A father? This couldn't be true.
Betty Ann lowered her voice, her face softening. "I'm sorry to inform you, but Beth died a month ago. Lupus. A nasty disease. She lived in Sacramento at the time, but was aware of your whereabouts in El Camino. Before she passed, she contacted our office and asked if we could handle her case. Though she made her home with a boyfriend, she wanted little Alice to be placed with her biological father. She had planned on contacting you herself but became so ill, she couldn't."
Pain crowded up in his throat, and he choked the words out. "I'm … I'm sorry." During their year together, Dave had grown to love Beth. He never would've wished this for her.
The news now altered Dave's life in an instant. Beth dead. But a child? His child existed and had no one but him. Still, he didn't feel completely convinced. "I don't doubt you're telling me what you believe to be the truth, but frankly, I would need a paternity test to confirm the child is mine."
"And that is something you would want to do. You'll need it to prove you're her father in the legal arena should you choose to seek custody of her."
Dave sat up straighter. "And if I don't?"
"Alice will remain in the foster care system until she's adopted. Unfortunately, most people want babies, not a six-year-old, so that could take a while."
Alice? Her name is Alice? Gall pressed up into his throat. He knew the difficulties of putting a child into the state system. "Where is she now?"
"Alice came to us a couple of weeks after Beth died. We didn't contact you immediately because we still had paperwork to finalize. The girl's been in the home of a foster-care worker until the last couple of days. The foster-care mother became ill and her children had to be temporarily placed elsewhere. With my boss's permission, I took Alice into my home for a few days. During the day while I'm working, she's gone to daycare. I want to assure you she's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances." Ms. Johnston peered at him, her eyes remaining on his face a little longer than comfortable. "I can see the resemblance. Your little girl has your brown eyes and skin tone."
Apparently she hadn't inherited Beth's blonde hair and pale blue eyes. At the time, he'd been captivated by her Anglo features and sweet manner. But still it gave him no excuse to betray Christian principles. He hadn't lived up to his Biblical values nor represented them to Beth. Later, he'd given that time over to the Lord and repented, then shooed the memories into the recesses of his past. Now the consequences of his actions had returned to haunt him. "I don't know what to say. I'm not prepared … " Dave bolted to his feet and paced the room. "I will need proof."
"Certainly. I'll get you an appointment with a DNA testing center in El Camino and see that Alice is tested. If you'd like, in the meantime you can purchase a non-legal or personal paternity test at your local pharmacy, take the sample, and drop it off at my office. I'll make sure you have your results in twenty-four hours." She folded her hands under her chin. "But I believe once you meet this child, you'll be assured she's yours."
Again, as if caged in an iron jail with a wild tiger stalking him, Dave moistened parched lips with a swipe of his tongue. Though he already knew his response, he needed to talk this over with his closest friend. "Look, this has got to soak in for a few days."
"I understand. Give me a call as soon as possible." Ms. Johnston whipped a card out from her purse. "And please, call me Betty Ann."
Only one thing to do now—he needed to seek out JD. His best friend would understand and help him put this all in perspective.
Could he really have a daughter named Alice? Dave shivered. Finally he reached for the card. "Thank you, and you're welcome to call me Dave. Let's see. Today's Tuesday. I'll have the testing kit at your office by tomorrow afternoon." The truth needed to come out immediately.
Betty Ann rose from the couch and marched to the door, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. "I'm off to pick up Alice now. She's a lovely young child. I think you'll fall in love with her the way I have." She pulled car keys from her purse, and her voice lightened. "Dave, I'm sure this is a surprise, and you probably know nothing about being a father. Part of my job will be to ease you into your role as a parent. I'll be here to help you. Don't worry."
Dave nodded, not sure he felt any more encouraged by Betty Ann's words. He closed the door after she walked down the sidewalk to her car in front of the house. Leaning his forehead against the wooden frame, he strained to take a breath. If Betty Ann's mission had been legitimate, which somehow his mind confirmed it was, his life would never be the same again.

*****

The swatch of trees at the end of the cul-de-sac offered shade from the hot morning sun, affording protection between Betty Ann's side of the duplex and the world beyond. She switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car, and unbuckled Alice from her car seat in the back. The little girl turned her head from side to side as if surveying the sidewalk and the border of trees. The poor child had bounced from home to home lately.
"Okay, Bonita. You know I call you that because it's Spanish for pretty, and you are such a beautiful little girl." Betty Ann grasped Alice's hand. "I'm going to fix you a yummy chicken sandwich and potato salad when we get inside. Does that sound good?"
Alice looked up with large cocoa-colored eyes and nodded.
Betty Ann would've liked a smile from the child, but after such a short amount of time in her home, Alice probably didn't feel completely at ease. What could Betty Ann expect? The girl had lost her mother, and the others who'd occupied her home and cared for her day by day since birth.
An ache crept from Betty Ann's heart to her throat. She was passionate about children like Alice who had no parents and lacked resources. No child should have to endure loneliness. Though Betty Ann hadn't lost her parents, she knew what it meant to feel isolated and crave a mother's love. Hadn't the family religion, Exalted Brethren, taken care of that? Mom never had a spare moment for her own daughter.
A tug on her hand brought her back from her thoughts. "Betty Ann, when can I go see Mommy?"
As if a dagger pieced Betty Ann's heart, she swallowed. The child simply hadn't understood about her mother. The agency tried to tell her, but the knowledge hadn't sunk in. "Sweetie, we need to have another talk about that."
She stuck the key in the lock of her end-of-the-block duplex and pushed the door open. A flick of the switch sent a flood of light into the living room. "Right now I'm working on finding the best possible home for you." She squeezed Alice's hand, and they stepped through the door together. "I promise."
Without a word or nod, one little tennis shoe and then the other brought the child into the small room with the couch and coffee table, a TV across from it, and a couple of side chairs nearby. In one corner of the room, a metal floor lamp provided light.
It would be easier if Alice complained or asked more questions. The child's compliant nature was so different than most of the children she'd taught before she went back to school to become a social worker.
Betty Ann dropped her briefcase and purse on the couch and headed toward the kitchen. "How would you like to take a nice warm bath after we eat? And then I'll read you a story. Go ahead and sit at the table. Dinner will be ready in a jiffy."
Alice crawled into the chair two times too big for her and nodded. "Can we read Love You Forever again?"
The bowl of chicken salad almost toppled from Betty Ann's hands as she took it from the refrigerator. Love You Forever, a book Alice had found when she'd searched through the pile of children's books on the coffee table and begged Betty Ann to read. Alice's mother hadn't had opportunity to love her child forever. "We'll see, sweetie."
So like Alice's, Dave's dark eyes flashed into her memory. Never had she seen more angst on someone's countenance. The announcement he was a father shocked him. Obviously he had no idea.
Betty Ann spread chicken salad on two pieces of bread and a touch of mayo on the other two. After she placed the two sandwiches on a couple of plates, she poked through the fridge for the bowl of potato salad. Going back to school to get a degree in social work after she and Ray Johnston married had been the wisest choice she could've made. To help people better their lives and find humane solutions for their families brought great satisfaction. And she intended to see little Alice Walker, hopefully soon to be Alice Reyes, had the start in life she deserved.
After setting the plate in front of Alice, Betty Ann poured milk into the child's glass. Being a preacher, Dave would eventually teach his daughter to pray before meals. But for now, Betty Ann would skip it. She'd had enough religion to last a lifetime.
Alice didn't seem to miss a mealtime prayer. She took a dainty bite of the sandwich and chewed.
It wasn't that Betty Ann had anything against Christians like Dave Reyes. They just weren't any different than anybody else. Hadn't Dave's situation proved that? He'd slept with his girlfriend, produced a child, and then gone about his life as if nothing happened. Of course to be fair, he wasn't aware of the child until today. But was Christianity any better than Exalted Brethren? At least her childhood faith required higher standards from its people.
After twenty minutes, Alice had eaten most of her sandwich. Betty Ann set the plates in the sink and turned to the girl. "Want some ice cream?"
Alice nodded and her eyes brightened for the first time since they'd come in the house.
"All right, sweetie." In what seemed like minutes, Alice finished her ice cream and Betty Ann had the girl bathed and dressed for bed. Tall Tom's Turtles made a better bedtime story. Thank goodness Alice didn't ask for Love You Forever again, and she peacefully fell asleep in the middle of the story.
Betty Ann tiptoed out of the spare bedroom, shut the door, and traipsed into the living room. The only sound was the tick, tick of the clock on the wall, the silence deafening.
She hadn't always lived in quiet surroundings, like this apartment that reminded her of a morgue. Above the quiet, even now she could still hear Ray's laughter and lively chatter when they'd both finally arrived home from a busy day. She missed him, the fun tunes he whistled, the sound of his projects on weekends that included a buzz saw. She even longed to hear his loud gargle after he scrubbed his teeth.
A slow tear threatened to escape from her eye. Hadn't she cried all the moisture she could ever produce, expelling it from her body these past months? Her precious husband, dead now for almost a year and still nothing seemed normal.
She dropped to the couch and leaned back. Closing her eyes didn't bring his image as clearly as before—a face generally wearing a smile, strong jaw with a covering of dark stubble, full biceps shaping his police uniform.
A tissue caught the tear that trailed down her cheek. Ray's brown curly hair, his wide, strong shoulders, and merry laugh would never escape her memory. His masculine chest and… Betty Ann squeezed a fist into a tight ball.
The loss hit her all over again. The image of her husband lying in a casket before the altar—the preacher at his church speaking words she'd not heard. A low groan rose from deep within. Her life had to go on. Ray was dead, not her.
The ringing phone in the kitchen jarred like when Daddy gave her shoulder a shake. Father had never strayed far from the stringent standards of Exalted Brethren and said she wasn't too young to begin training. The blaring sound continued, bringing her back to reality. It couldn't be her boss. He always called her cell.
She pushed up from the couch. After three rings, she answered. "Hello."
Nothing. The silence on the other end of the line, so like the continual hush of her apartment, seemed peculiar.
"Hello, hello."
Not a sound. Betty Ann replaced the receiver on the wall fixture. Guess someone had the wrong number. She shrugged.
The living room clock ticktocked its persistent pulse. The only sound in the too quiet apartment. Maybe she'd turn on the TV.

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