Page 15
Present Day
F ather Decker is wearing the same kind of black jacket and black dress shirt that he had on the other day, when he was visiting with another inmate. But this time, I clearly see the white stripe on his collar associated with his status. Again, his hair is clipped short and he is clean shaven, unlike the way he was the first time we met.
And yes, I am 100 percent sure that this man is my husband.
He says his name is Father Richard Decker, but now that I am sitting across from him, even with a pane of glass separating us, it is clear to me who he is. He has the same face, the same bump on his nose from when he broke it during an illegal tackle in peewee football, and most of all, he has the same eyes.
When you look into the eyes of the love of your life, you know it.
I can’t stop staring at him as my entire body goes cold. I’ve been dreaming of this man every night, but this is real. He is really here in front of me, after I thought he was gone forever. I want to reach through the glass and throw my arms around him. I want that kiss that I’ve been aching for in my dreams every night.
How is it possible he’s here? He’s supposed to be dead .
“Noel,” I breathe, although my voice is so soft that he doesn’t hear me.
“Talia, is it?” the chaplain says to me. “My name is Father Decker. I was told you’d like me to give you your last rites?”
His voice throws me. That’s not Noel’s voice. It’s deeper, almost like the voice of an older man in his fifties or sixties. But then again, Noel was always good at faking it. That’s how he managed to get our wedding at the Vineyard—by pretending to be Albert Swecker.
“Noel,” I say, louder this time. “I know it’s you.”
He smiles kindly at me, which only cements my certainty of his identity. “Father Decker,” he corrects me.
Why is he doing this? Why is he pretending to be a chaplain when we both know very well who he is? Is this his revenge for ...
Well, for what I did.
“Noel,” I say urgently. Our visiting time is limited, and I have to get this out. “They’re going to execute me. By lethal injection. Tomorrow. ”
“Yes,” he says, “and now I will give you your last rites.”
“You don’t understand!” Tears spring to my eyes. “They’re going to execute me for killing you . But you’re alive. You have to tell them, Noel. If you don’t, they’re going to kill me!”
Father Decker, who is actually Noel, doesn’t seem to know what to make of this. Instead, he plows forward, his hands touching the glass partition between us since he can’t touch me. “Loving and merciful God,” he begins, “we entrust our sister to your mercy ...”
“Noel!” I cry, loud enough that Rhea raises her eyes. “ Stop talking. You have to listen to me. You have to tell them the truth. I didn’t kill you!”
“Welcome her now into paradise,” he is saying, “where there will be no more sorrow, no more weeping or pain ...”
“Please!” The tears are now rolling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them if I wanted to. “I don’t know why you’re pretending not to know me, but I know it’s you! You’re the only one who can stop this from happening!”
“May Almighty God release you from all punishments in this life and the life to come,” he continues. “May He open to you the gates of paradise and welcome you to everlasting joy.”
“I don’t want everlasting joy!” I cry. “I just want to get out of here! I want to go home ... with you!”
“Kemper,” Rhea says in a low voice, indicating that I have crossed a line.
The man across from me has stopped talking. Has he finished the last rites? If he has, that means he will be leaving. My last chance for redemption will walk out the door, and tomorrow, I will be put to death.
“Noel.” I put my hands together in an act of prayer or pleading—maybe a little of both. “Please help me. Please. I love you.”
I expect the man to stand up from his stool, fed up with my antics. Nothing I have said has swayed him, but then something changes in his eyes. He leans forward, and his gaze locks with mine.
“I love you so much, Talia,” he says in a voice that now sounds like his own. “I ...”
“Visiting time is over!” Rhea barks. “Let’s get going, Kemper.”
“No!”
But the light has gone out in Noel’s eyes. He has gotten off his stool, and now he is walking away, without even a final glance in my direction. It was him, like I suspected, but he has no interest in helping me get free. He knows what I tried to do to him, and this is my punishment.
“That was my husband!” I tell Rhea as she helps me to my feet. “He admitted it! He’s still alive!”
“Uh-huh . . .”
“It’s him,” I insist. “I told everyone that I didn’t kill him. He’s still alive! He’s pretending to be a chaplain.”
Rhea gives me a pitying look. She doesn’t believe me, and it’s clear that nobody else will either. Noel has fooled everybody into thinking he is dead, and if nothing happens in the next twenty-four hours, I will be the one who is dead.