being escorted down to the entrance, and walking toward my car. It looked lonely in the middle of all those vacant spaces. Most of them had been filled yesterday morning for Sunday service, I had no doubt.
* * * *
Even though it was early for lunch, I’d had no breakfast and I was hungry. I got an Americano and a sandwich at a Starbucks and ate it on my way to interview Ann and Leigh Richardson, who waited for me in their enormous Highlands Ranch homes nestled among very white, very conservative, very Christian, very comfortable folk just like themselves.
A little frisson of excitement made me shiver, as if I were a spy parachuted into enemy territory, driving down the long curving streets with trees no more than thirty years old everywhere. Although maybe I didn’t exactly qualify as an enemy spy. I’d actually voted Republican once. Long ago. Years before Proposition 2.
I didn’t learn much about the letters from Howard’s wife, Ann, or from James’ wife, Leigh. But I learned a lot about the kind of family they had.
Ann reminded me so much of Laura Bush, it hurt to think about it. She was gracious, perfectly coiffed and dressed—sweet and serene, in a pill-induced way. Detached and more than a little tragic, committed to appearances that didn’t ring true to what little I could see of her inner life.
Anti-anxiety benzodiazepines affect the aura as well as whatever else they do. They create a signature fuzziness to a person’s energy that Ann’s displayed constantly. She said all the right things, and while I could see frequent incongruities between her answers and her energy, it was as if I connected from a great distance. Whether that meant a distant past or a chemical haze, I couldn’t really tell.
I got an overall impression of regret and loyalty from her, as well as a wistful, genuine kindness that skewered my heart whenever it showed. Over the course of the interview, it became pretty clear that she appeared at functions when needed, addressed women’s groups when asked, and basically stayed put in her bland and immaculate suburban mansion watching life roll by around her.
She had a few close friends in the church circle, of course. She didn’t spend a lot of social time with Leigh—different generations, you know—but she doted on her grandchildren and loved taking them whenever their mom was busy.
She apologized that she couldn’t shed any light on this terrible matter.
Leigh, on the other hand, was a barracuda. Intense, hair-trigger defensive, and ready to tear the throat out of whoever was trying to blackmail her family. And her fury was genuine. She said she’d give her life to protect Howard’s ministry and her family, and her aura confirmed it unequivocally.
She was keeping her share of secrets, though. When it came to questions about her home life with James and the children, she insisted everything was perfect as could be expected in this troubled world, but her aura flared all over the place. Not outright lies, but partial truths and withheld information. I probed gently and was told to back off in no uncertain terms. Her icy protectiveness was very real, and more than a little chilling.
She’d started volunteering at Abundant Life and Gospel Ministry Church as a teenager, and stayed on to become an office employee. She’d met James in March of 1995 when Howard introduced them at a relief drive for victims of the previous month’s big earthquake in western Colombia. They’d married three months later, a June wedding. In just over a week, they would celebrate their fourteenth anniversary with a quiet night at home. The children were six, eight, and eleven.
Most of her time was taken up with being a mom, but she would fill in wherever she could, however Howard needed her help. Her father-in-law was a true man of God, and deserved all the assistance those around him could provide.
I was glad to get in my car and thaw out.
On the drive back into Denver, I wondered what it was
* * * *
Even though it was early for lunch, I’d had no breakfast and I was hungry. I got an Americano and a sandwich at a Starbucks and ate it on my way to interview Ann and Leigh Richardson, who waited for me in their enormous Highlands Ranch homes nestled among very white, very conservative, very Christian, very comfortable folk just like themselves.
A little frisson of excitement made me shiver, as if I were a spy parachuted into enemy territory, driving down the long curving streets with trees no more than thirty years old everywhere. Although maybe I didn’t exactly qualify as an enemy spy. I’d actually voted Republican once. Long ago. Years before Proposition 2.
I didn’t learn much about the letters from Howard’s wife, Ann, or from James’ wife, Leigh. But I learned a lot about the kind of family they had.
Ann reminded me so much of Laura Bush, it hurt to think about it. She was gracious, perfectly coiffed and dressed—sweet and serene, in a pill-induced way. Detached and more than a little tragic, committed to appearances that didn’t ring true to what little I could see of her inner life.
Anti-anxiety benzodiazepines affect the aura as well as whatever else they do. They create a signature fuzziness to a person’s energy that Ann’s displayed constantly. She said all the right things, and while I could see frequent incongruities between her answers and her energy, it was as if I connected from a great distance. Whether that meant a distant past or a chemical haze, I couldn’t really tell.
I got an overall impression of regret and loyalty from her, as well as a wistful, genuine kindness that skewered my heart whenever it showed. Over the course of the interview, it became pretty clear that she appeared at functions when needed, addressed women’s groups when asked, and basically stayed put in her bland and immaculate suburban mansion watching life roll by around her.
She had a few close friends in the church circle, of course. She didn’t spend a lot of social time with Leigh—different generations, you know—but she doted on her grandchildren and loved taking them whenever their mom was busy.
She apologized that she couldn’t shed any light on this terrible matter.
Leigh, on the other hand, was a barracuda. Intense, hair-trigger defensive, and ready to tear the throat out of whoever was trying to blackmail her family. And her fury was genuine. She said she’d give her life to protect Howard’s ministry and her family, and her aura confirmed it unequivocally.
She was keeping her share of secrets, though. When it came to questions about her home life with James and the children, she insisted everything was perfect as could be expected in this troubled world, but her aura flared all over the place. Not outright lies, but partial truths and withheld information. I probed gently and was told to back off in no uncertain terms. Her icy protectiveness was very real, and more than a little chilling.
She’d started volunteering at Abundant Life and Gospel Ministry Church as a teenager, and stayed on to become an office employee. She’d met James in March of 1995 when Howard introduced them at a relief drive for victims of the previous month’s big earthquake in western Colombia. They’d married three months later, a June wedding. In just over a week, they would celebrate their fourteenth anniversary with a quiet night at home. The children were six, eight, and eleven.
Most of her time was taken up with being a mom, but she would fill in wherever she could, however Howard needed her help. Her father-in-law was a true man of God, and deserved all the assistance those around him could provide.
I was glad to get in my car and thaw out.
On the drive back into Denver, I wondered what it was
Similar Books
Deception
Jane Marciano
On Broken Wings
Francis Porretto
Trophy Wives
Jan Colley
An Ill Wind
David Donachie
Cheyney Fox
Roberta Latow
Tikkipala
Sara Banerji
Delicate Edible Birds
Lauren Groff
Slow Dreaming
Anne Barwell
Lost Woods
Rachel Carson