excerpt
MAKING PROMISES
PROLOGUE
Zoe died lonely and rejected.
Amber Delaney sat still, mulling over that fact. Even she wasn’t there
to slap the pills out of the hand of her childhood friend. Guilt festered
on her conscience. She wanted to fall to her knees and scream until her
voice faltered. Instead, she folded her hands on her lap, trying not to
think.
The unexpected tragedy casted its own pall over the events. But the impressive
hundred year old church that held over one hundred mourners also demanded
reverence. Back in the day, it was the focal point for the small town --
religious and social. Now Libertytown had turned into a city with the usual
suburban sprawl populated by families escaping the rat race of urban life.
A faint pine scent from the polish used on the pews lingered in the air,
reminding her of the fun times she and her friends spent at Sunday school.
Nothing much had changed. Dark wood made up the framework with thick exposed
beams overhead supporting the raised roof. Only the altar area was carpeted
in a deep purple shade. The lectern stood on one side, while the choir of
at least seventy men and women sat in their exclusive box on the other side.
Zoe had joined the choir until she turned sixteen and claimed that she was
running away from home with a cute boy from high school. Amber smiled inwardly
at the memory of Zoe’s mother meeting her at the bus station, then
dragging her home. Zoe’s brother had been dispatched soon after to
make sure the boy didn’t think about sticking around for Zoe.
Amber remembered that the choir’s robes were royal blue and gold.
The new look of purple with gold trimming set a more regal tone. A large
ornate cross in gold fabric was emblazoned on each member’s back.
Although it was Fall weather with a slight chill in the air and overhead
fans whirred, several choir members still fanned themselves.
Considering the grand sweeping motion of the robes whenever the choir clapped
and bopped to their gospel melodies, she surmised that the robes had to
be heavy and hot. But Amber also suspected that a few only fanned so furiously
because it was the church thing to do.
The funeral service had long gone over the one-hour mark. The unforgiving
seats had no mercy on her behind. The downside for not being well padded.
To take her mind off the torture, she focused on the stained glass window
above the pulpit. The crisscross beams of filtered light added splashes
of violet, rose, and deep purple onto the floor.
Zoe would have loved the colors. She had wanted to be a painter, but never
told her parents, knowing that they wanted her to be the first doctor in
the family.
They all had dreams and sincere intentions. In Zoe’s attic, the threesome
had pledged to be friends for all eternity and that nothing could divide
them. Amber sucked in her breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling.
She repeated the exercise a few more times acknowledging the steady rise
of bitterness winding its way around her thoughts. Heck, it had overtaken
her heart.
People filed past her, heading to the podium to have their say. Some praised
Zoe. Others spoke of wishing they had more time to tell her how they felt.
By the time that Amber had reconnected with Zoe, these friends had devoured
her as much as the public had. Listening to the tearful pleas set her teeth
on edge.
Her hand fisted around a balled wad of tissue. If she concentrated hard
enough on the crack in the floor near her seat, she could block out the
choir softly singing a mournful spiritual in the background. She gnawed
at her lip to force back tears.
The conductor lowered her hands, signaling the song’s end. Time for
the minister’s closing sermon.
“How are you holding up?”
Amber turned toward her best friend, Sylvia, sitting at her side. “I’m
fine. I’m glad you came,” she whispered.
Sylvia patted her hand and reached over to give her a reassuring hug. “She’s
my friend, too. I feel just as guilty. Through thick and thin, that was
our motto, right?” Sylvia dabbed at her eyes, sniffing loudly. “Anyway,
don’t let this minister’s fire and brimstone speech work your
nerves.”
Amber shook her head. “I’m just sitting here.” Numb.
“You forgot who you’re talking to. You keep biting your lip
and it’ll start bleeding. After today, you never have to see any of
these people again. This place isn’t home anymore. It hasn’t
been for a long time for any of us.”
The plan had been to go to the same college, graduate and then get an apartment
together. The plan, friendship, their lives went in different directions
a couple months after getting on campus. Zoe, the beauty in the group, immediately
soaked up the upper classmen’s attention. Several sororities vied
for her membership. When she failed to show up at Amber’s birthday
because one of her many boyfriends took her away on his family’s boat
for the weekend, the group suffered its final blow up that ended with hurtful
accusations flung among the group. Amber didn’t want to recall the
nasty darts that she’d shot at Zoe. Being friends for so long, they
knew each other’s insecurities and they had each moved in for the
kill.
The minister stood tall and erect from his pulpit. Glaring over his glasses,
he pitched his words like an actor with his monologue. He shook his head,
pounded his hand against the podium, raised onto his toes to drive home
his message for salvation.
Words boomed down on the congregation about sanctity of the soul, sins of
the flesh, greed of men. Sylvia placed a reassuring hand or maybe it was
a restraining hand over hers. After listening longer than she like at the
condemnation in the minister’s tone, she felt sure that Sylvia’s
hand was to keep her from interrupting the proceedings and letting loose.
If Zoe’s so-called friends and relatives turned their backs on her,
those who didn’t know her treated her with brutal personal attacks.
Expert consultants, news reporters, talk show hosts rolled out Zoe’s
faults. How many high profile women fell from grace with the IRS salivating
at one end and the government waiting at the other end with an executioner’s
axe? It was news.
Headlines painted the picture of the executive who had a reputation for
being hard-nosed, but successful on her company’s behalf. In vainglorious
detail, they scrutinized the only female in the company’s history
who spiraled from the top with her designer suits and company car to the
bottom where her reputation and her accomplishments sat in an undignified
heap. They’d fed on her like a pack of dogs.
Amber closed her eyes, desperately wishing that she could close her ears
too. “Zoe Cantrell,” she murmured. It had been awhile since
she had reason to say her name.
The white casket was now the final memory. Tears filled her eyes. This time
she couldn’t stem their flow down her cheeks. She was dangerously
close to breaking down.
“Here.” Sylvia pushed a travel pack of tissue into her hand.
“He’s winding down, thank God.”
Amber dabbed at her eyes. She had cried enough in the past week for all
the mourners packed into the small town church. Zoe’s parents wept
in each other’s arms. They had been angry and embarrassed by their
daughter’s fall from grace. Now it was too late for the words of love.
The minister ended his sermon with a powerful “Amen.” The organist
pounded the keys, playing a livelier piece for the congregation’s
departure.
Amber stood ready to negotiate her way out of the church into the fresh
air. Suddenly the small building, the warm bodies, the heady scented air
from the bouquets closed in on her. What had kept them apart?
“Hey wait.” Sylvia noisily caught up to her. “Don’t
march off without me.”
Amber didn’t respond. The clusters of people impeded access to her
car. She wanted out. Lowering her shoulders, she drove through the crowd,
marching to her own beat until she reached her compact car.
“Want me to drive?”
Amber nodded. The two-hour drive back to Maryland was long enough time for
her to think and plan. She retrieved the note that she kept on her person.
Quite simply, she’d make sure that people remembered Zoe, learning
from her mistakes, but also celebrating the positive things that she’d
done in her life.
Sylvia glanced over to her. “Want to share what’s going through
your mind?”
“I’m not sure, as yet. But from what I’ve learned so far,
all the top dogs were dirty. All, except for one. I can’t believe
that he didn’t dip his manicured hands into the honey pot. I’m
going to do what I can for Zoe. And I’m going to bury this guy if
necessary.”
Sylvia turned to look at her, a frown crinkling her forehead. “Since
when you became a superhero. What if he’s not guilty?”
“Sylvia, all these guys are guilty. Whether it’s embezzling
or lying on their taxes. They can’t get to where they are without
a little help. Don’t tell me that Mr. Whistleblower didn’t cop
a deal with the prosecutor.”
“Why so cynical?”
Amber re-folded the note and tucked it into her pocket. “It’s
not being cynical. It’s being practical, grounded. That way, you don’t
get hurt from trusting blindly. Look where it got Zoe.”
“But she was guilty.”
“Don’t you start. Zoe was honest and hardworking.”
“When you reached out to her in the end, there was at least ten years
that you or me were not a part of her life. You don’t know her. All
we have are memories of a pretty naïve part of our lives.”
“Now, who’s being the cynical one?” Amber rubbed her temples.
The headache throbbed just under the surface, waiting for a moment like
this to charge full throttle. “I don’t want to fight, not today.
You’re right, I don’t know the super-charged, workaholic Zoe.
I don’t know why she did the things that she got indicted for. But,
all I have is this note. She could have written that last note to so many
others. She wrote it to me.”
They rode in silence down the two-lane highway. Amber leaned her head back
against the headrest and closed her eyes. Exhaustion had finally taken over.
“Do whatever you need to do, my friend.”
copyright 2004 Michelle Monkou
