Chapter 31

© Copyright 2006 by Kendra Cornell



Ellen woke from a long nap. For a moment, disorientation blurred the edges of reality. But then her memories came crashing in like violent surf. Looking at her watch, Ellen realized that she had a meeting scheduled in thirty minutes with her family lawyer. They were going to meet informally, so Ellen didn’t worry too much about her casual attire.

Ellen got in her car and drove to the small café, where Jim waited for her.

Entering the small space that was filled with greenery, Ellen embraced Jim briefly.

“It’s good to see you,” she said.

“Ellen- How are you?”

She tried to smile, but failed miserably. “I suppose I’ve had better days. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Jim looked at her with pity in his eyes. “Tom called me this morning, Ellen. Not to mention that I saw it all over the news last night. I’m so sorry.”

“My daughter suggested that I speak to you about… all this. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Well, technically, I’m not allowed to advise both you and Tom at the same time. But he just called to inform me- he didn’t ask for legal advice. So why don’t we just talk, like old friends, and we’ll go from there.” The two were seated at a small table by the window.

“I left him, Jim,” she said bluntly. Jim just nodded, so she continued. “I’m staying with my daughter until I feel some kind of leading about what to do and where to go. At the moment, it’s just too painful to be with him.”

“I can understand that. And it certainly won’t hurt to take time to deal with this.”

“Jim, there’s something else.” Ellen pulled the letter from Elizabeth James out of her bag and smoothed it out on the table in front of her. “This is from the, uh, woman with whom Tom… uh…”

Jim picked up the letter and patted Ellen’s hand. “I understand, Ellen.” He put on a pair of half-moon reading glasses and skimmed the letter quickly. Looking up, Ellen read the surprise in his eyes.

“She’s suggesting that Tom might have been involved in her murder?”

Ellen nodded. “I haven’t even really thought about that yet. I’m still trying to digest the other part of it.”

Jim took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “You know the police are publicly looking for some woman as a person of interest in the case?”

“No, actually I hadn’t seen anything. I didn’t need reminding, and reporters were trying to call…” her voice faded away.

“Karen Cook- she apparently worked for your husband’s campaign.”

Ellen started when Jim said Karen’s name.

“But I know her. There’s no way, Jim.”

Jim smiled somewhat condescendingly, “Ellen, there’s always a way. I have come to see things over the years that I wish I could forget. And the fact is that every one of us is capable of anything under the right circumstances.”

“But she had no reason- I mean… How could Karen have known?”

Jim smiled gently, but his voice was firm. “Is it possible that Tom was having a ‘relationship’ with this Karen person, as well?”

Ellen was horrified. “No! I mean, he would never…” But her voice cut off as she realized that Tom already had.

“Where is Karen? I mean, if the police are looking for her, where did she go?”

“I only know what I hear on the news, Ellen, but it seems as though she’s disappeared. She was last spotted two days ago, and since then… nothing. But that’s neither here nor there,” Jim took off the glasses and shifted forward. “Ellen, all I can tell you is that you need to take some time before you make any big decisions. Has Tom expressed a desire to divorce?”

“No. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t said much of anything.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? There’s still a chance to reconcile.”

“I don’t know that I want to reconcile, Jim. I don’t really know anything right now.”

Jim smiled at her. “Ellen, you and Tom have spent most of your lives together. You’ve been together longer than you’ve been apart. There’s a lot to be said for that kind of longevity. And I can tell you that there are a lot of people who have found themselves in similar situations, and found a way to get past it together. There’s hope.”

“Well, right now, it doesn’t feel like there’s anything there. But I appreciate what you’ve said. Thanks, Jim.” They spoke of non-issues for a few minutes longer before he rose.

He shook her hand and left the restaurant, giving her his best wishes. Ellen sat for a while longer, sipping hot tea and thinking.

He couldn’t have been having an affair with two women? Could he? Ellen recalled the few times that she had met Karen Cook. The woman had been beautiful, it was true. But she had looked Ellen solidly in the eye. There had been no guilt, no fear, no arrogance or condemnation. Karen had seemed honest and intelligent. Was it all subterfuge?

Ellen slammed her mug back down with more force than was necessary. Determination lit her every step as she put a few dollars down on the table, and left the café.

I may not have been able to do anything about Elizabeth James, she thought. But I can still do something about Karen Cook. And if she did indeed have something to do with that murder, at least I will have some answers about my husband.



Ellen pulled up in front of the bungalow in south Denver. Information had informed Ellen that this was the only listed address for Karen Cook. It was neither large nor small. A well-kept lawn edged the home. Yellow crime scene tape blocked off the entrance to the front door.

Confused, Ellen still got out and approached the house. No one was there- not Karen, no police… The place was empty. Ellen walked around the side of the house, but nothing was out of place. Going to the other side, Ellen walked past a large pine tree. Hidden from the street, Ellen noticed the large plate glass window had been shattered. Jagged bits of glass hung like stalactites from the top of the frame. Ellen was reminded of a guillotine. Haven’t the police seen this?

“Looks nasty, doesn’t it?” Ellen whirled to see a small, gray-haired woman standing behind her. She wore a blue housedress and white slip-on shoes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It perfectly alright,” Ellen said, smiling and extending her hand. The small woman’s hand was soft and frail. “I was looking for Karen… You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t- the police asked me the same thing. I haven’t seen her since some time late last week. I never heard a thing, but that’s not too surprising. I don’t hear much without my hearing aids, I’m afraid.”

Ellen nodded. “That’s understandable. I’m sorry to have troubled you,” and she turned to walk away.

“She didn’t do it, you know. What they’re saying she did? That girl wouldn’t have done anything like that.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been reminded recently that any one of us is capable of anything under the right circumstances.”

“Hogwash. She was a good girl.”

Ellen felt a hot flush creep up her neck, and took a step closer to this diminutive being. Swallowing past the nervous lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and asked her, “You never saw a man here did you? A tall man with gray hair- about my age? Or a blue car parked out front maybe? It would have been a Mercedes.”

“No- I’m sorry. I never saw anyone here. She kept to herself, mostly.”

“Thank you. I…” Ellen no longer knew what to say, so she repeated, “Thank you.” And she turned and walked away.

The late afternoon sunlight warmed the sidewalks and the lawns. The smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air. Ellen felt lost- not physically, but spiritually and emotionally. Instead of walking to her car, she wandered down the street aimlessly and without forethought. Meandering down the residential blocks, Ellen inhaled the scents of flowers and herbs. Children rode their bikes on the sidewalks and played in yards where watchful parents kept close eyes on their young ones.

How sad, Ellen thought, that a parent can’t let their little ones out to play alone, to run down to the creek, or ride their bike without being there. Why, I remember when my little ones were young, they just ran rampant over the neighborhood.

Ellen hadn’t thought of her son often- the estrangement was still too painful. But she remembered how shiny his hair had been when he was little, how he wrapped chubby arms around her neck and breathed, “Luvoo Mama,” before he fell asleep. A pang of remorse shot through her heart. Life was just hard… On everyone.

A tall, thin man with dark hair and a pleasant face stood on the sidewalk up ahead of where she walked. He held a pair of trimmers in his hand, and a pile of leafy branches stood along the concrete pathway. He turned and smiled at her as she walked by.

“Good evening,” he said affably.

“Hello. How are you?” she said making to walk by.

“Oh, just fine thanks. And you?”

“I’m well,” but Ellen’s voice cracked, and a tear trickled down her cheek. Before she could stop it, tears fell like rain down her face. “Oh- I’m so sorry. Excuse me,” Ellen said trying to rush by. I can’t believe this- I’m making a fool of myself in front of a total stranger.

The man spoke softly, “Try counting your tears as sorrows. It gives them meaning.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Ellen stopping to fish a tissue out of her bag.

“God says that he’s numbered all your tears- so if you count them as they’re falling, and name your sorrows, sometimes it helps to give tears significance.” He took another swipe at the shrub in front of him with the pruning shears.

“Are you some kind of psychologist or something?” she asked.

“Or something, would be more accurate. I’m a pastor at Refuge Christian,” he said gesturing at the red-brick church across the street.

Ellen looked behind her.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate your… kindness.”

The man smiled. “I’m Paul Coburn. Please feel free to come to our church anytime.”

Ellen nodded, “Thank you. We… I already have a church, but it was kind of you to offer.”

An older woman opened the screen door on the porch of his house, “Paul? Dinner’s just about ready if you want to clean up out there.”

He turned back to the door, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be right in.”

Ellen turned to walk away, but his voice caught up to her again, “You know, a God that counts all our tears is surely here with you now.” He smiled, with kindness in his eyes, and began to gather up the branches. Ellen hesitated for a moment.

“Uh… Excuse me?” Paul looked up smiling. “Where does it say that? About the tears I mean?” Paul thought for a moment and gestured for her to wait. He sprinted up the walk, and slammed the screen door, returning seconds later with a small sheet of paper. On it, he had written Psalm 56:8.

You keep track of my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.

Underneath was written, Isaiah 49:16, but nothing else. She turned and walked away, staring at the paper and seemingly unaware of Paul. He watched her go, shrugging and committing to pray for her later.

Does the Lord really care for me that much? Could he possibly know all my tears and sorrows? How could He? A God that has literally billions of people, trillions of animals, and the rest of the cosmos surely wouldn’t care for the issues in my insignificant little life.

But Paul’s words came back to her. A God that counted her tears- could it be possible that he might care about her?

Ellen began a slow walk back to her car. While the circumstance of life still threatened, a tiny spark of hope had ignited in Ellen’s heart. Anger and pain still raged there, but in the midst of that storm, a tiny shred of peace lit within.




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Kendra Cornell if you have a comment! She would really like to hear from you.





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