Undercurrent

By Lisa Parrish

In a seemingly quiet town in northern Georgia, Maggie Miller grows up as a timid girl who just wants to blend into the woodwork. After she graduates from high school and leaves home for college, she meets and marries Scott Phillips, a confident former high school baseball star who appearsat least on the outsideto be the perfect catch. Unfortunately, as Maggie is about to find out, sometimes looks can be deceiving.

After the birth of their son, Maggie is forced to face harsh facts about her husband as their life together unfolds. After a shocking truth is finally revealed, Maggie moves back to her hometown to build a new life for herself and her son. Soon, a chance encounter with a former schoolmate and current police chief, Will McFarland, quickly leads to changes for both of them. As romance blooms, their pasts resurface and bring chaos, sweeping away their peaceful lives in an undercurrent of betrayal, corruption, and murder that threatens to pull them under troubled waters forever.

In this mystery based on real-life events, a young couple must work together to resolve their pasts before they can move into the future where only time will tell if happiness and everlasting love awaits them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Feb 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781480813953

Lisa Parrish

Lisa Parrish grew up in a small town. She currently resides with her husband, son, and three dogs in Chickamauga, Georgia. This is her first book.

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Copyright © 2015 Lisa R. Parrish.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1396-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1394-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-1395-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900089

Archway Publishing rev. date: 01/10/15

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Epilogue

Undercurrent: (noun)

1. A current, as of water or air, below another current or surface.

2. An underlying tendency or force, often contrary to what is evident.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T his has been a totally new experience for me and, I must admit, a labor of love. There are so many emotions that have come alive in my heart, and this book has become a child in many ways. I have laughed and cried along with the characters, embraced their hurts, and shared their joys. They are alive in my mind and in my heart. I will always feel a special bond with them.

As every parent can attest, there are many people who help to grow your children to adulthood. The surrogate parents for my book have glimpsed my soul and shared themselves with me. To those who read and offered support and much needed constructive criticism, you have my utmost respect and thanks. You gave your time and attention to help me raise this book child. To Lisa Benton, you were the very first to read my manuscript and your excitement and encouragement gave me the courage to continue my quest to the finish line. To my mother, Joan Roberts, who read with a mother’s heart and not complete objectivity, thank you for loving what I do. To my sister-in-law, Cindy Parrish, you read and encouraged me by leaving a message on my cell phone which said, When is this going to be on bookstore shelves? For your love and support, thank you. To my mother-in-law, Carol Parrish, thank you for always sharing your heart and for reading and encouraging me to complete the story. To Dana Moody Hellwig, my first critic and editor, thank you for your honest assessment and suggestion to edit some of the early details and the encouragement you have repeatedly given. I knew I could trust your judgment and integrity. I will always be grateful for your help and friendship. To Tammy Harkleroad, thank you for your enthusiasm and the information you provided which was invaluable. To Ken Palmer, your expertise and knowledge of literature made you such an obvious choice for me to tum to. You advised and encouraged me to stretch out further than I had ever anticipated and further than I would have without your encouragement. Thank you for helping me to reach for the stars.

To my parents, Joan and Leon Roberts, thank you for setting the best example two people could ever set for their child. You showed me how to be married, how to be a parent, how to be a friend. You let me be the center of your world. I will always be grateful that God allowed me to be your child. I love you more than you will ever know and I’m sorry that years ago, I broke your hearts. I hope that I have made the hurt and disappointment go away.

To the most important people in my life: my husband, Jerry, and my son, Samuel. Where do I begin to say thank you? For the countless hours that I sat in front of the computer, for all the questions I asked, for constantly asking you to read my book, thank you for never complaining. Thank you both for not complaining about late suppers, and unlaundered clothes, and a dirty house on occasion.

Jerry, that summer day so long ago when I handed you a sheet of paper with four paragraphs on it and asked to you to read it, your question to me was this: Are you writing a book? After you read it, you said, Go back and write some more! Well, as an obedient wife, I went back and wrote some more. Now, years later, I’m finished. Thank you for loving me and being the best husband a woman could ever want. I love you, and I will never get over you loving me. You always set the bar very high for all who know you, and I am thankful that you presented me with the perfect pattern to follow. Thank you for making me the happiest woman in the world. I am so proud to be your wife; I really do know that I got the best end of the deal. Thank you. I love you.

Samuel, you are, without a doubt, the best son a mom could want. I am so proud of the man you have become. I thank you for the choice you have made so many years ago. Your dad is my universe, and you are the bright sun in that universe. For all your help with the computer, I will be forever grateful. I know that I’m not an easy student, but you taught me how to do something I was very afraid of. Thank you. I love you.

And to Daisy, even though you can’t read, you are the prettiest dachshund I have ever seen, and you are the best dog any family could ever hope to belong to. You have been in my lap or lying beside me while I wrote nearly every word of this book. Thank you for your love and faithfulness. I love you, my precious Day!

T his book is dedicated to Sandy Sitton, my very best friend. Her love, support, and encouragement through the process of finishing and publishing this book have exceeded the bounds of friendship. Her knowledge of the computer has been invaluable as she has helped and guided me in areas where I had no knowledge. She is not only my friend, she is part of my family. I will forever be grateful for that fact that God sent her into my life nearly 30 years ago.

PROLOGUE

T he Bible says in the book of Ecclesiastes that there is a time and a season for everything. Well, believing that is true, this must be the time to reflect and figure out where to go from here. If there are no coincidences and no luck-good or bad-then there is an order and a plan for our lives and in order to find that plan, I must look back. This would appear to be an ending for my family, but I believe that it is a new beginning for us. We have been swept along in deep waters and in shallows, but we are still afloat. This flow that is moving us toward a new future has been upstream coming toward us for a whole lot longer than we have known. But, in looking back, it has always been the undercurrents which have moved us the most.

CHAPTER 1

I believe that David Copperfield begins his story with I am born. It seems that this would be the best place to start. My hometown is a small, seemingly quiet town in northern Georgia. Most people would still call it a perfect town in which to raise a family. It was, and still is, the sort of place where everyone knows everyone, and everyone’s business. It was a town of ones: One traffic light downtown, one bank, one school system, one pharmacy, one hardware store, one service station, one grocery store, one beauty parlor, and one barber shop. And, although my parents didn’t know it at the time, one political machine. On the surface, it was small-town USA. But just as water can be still on the surface, there was an undercurrent moving things along in the town even then. My parents were from a larger, neighboring city. They wanted a small-town atmosphere to raise a family in and, in Jeffersonville, that’s what they got. And, so begins my journey.

I was born five years after my parents married, four years after they moved to Jeffersonville. Life was all anyone could have wanted it to be. Daddy loved Mama and Mama loved Daddy. He worked; she kept house and me. Normal life for a normal family in a normal small town. Some would call it boring, I suppose.

The gossip mill worked as surely as the local textile mill. The locals knew who the movers and shakers were and who was having an affair with whom. Whispers in the beauty shop or in the grocery store were filled with Have you heard? and Did you know. . . And always there was the promise not to tell, all-the-while, the recipient of the information as well as the informant, knew that promise wasn’t going to be kept.

It took quite a while for my parents to be included in these conversations. They were outsiders, transplants. They hadn’t been born in the town and still didn’t live in the city limits, so they had to prove themselves. For a long time, it appeared that they would never be accepted. There were many conversations between the two of them about how clannish these people were but, they had chosen to live among them. Being accepted here was a long, slow process, but little by little the towns’ people warmed up to them. I don’t have a clue why things changed. Maybe it was just the passage of time. Or, maybe it was the first sign of an undercurrent.

For me, school began with kindergarten at the local Methodist church. My first cousin, Melanie, and I were in the same class. I was delighted. Melanie’s mom was my dad’s younger sister, and I’ll just bet there was quite a stir in the family when my mom and my aunt were pregnant at the same time. We were born five weeks apart and had, so far, grown up more like sisters than cousins. Even though Melanie’s parents lived in a neighboring town, they drove her into our version of paradise to attend kindergarten with me. We were the exact opposites in looks: She was a green-eyed brunette; I was a blue-eyed blonde. I was the smaller than Melanie until mid-way through the school year when I outgrew her. Our personalities were exact opposites as well: Melanie was outgoing and hot tempered; I was timid and easy-going. That’s why sharing a class was fine with me: all I had to do was follow her lead.

Kindergarten was the last time we would be in school together. When school started in the fall and we were faced with first grade, Melanie’s parents decided to send her to the elementary school in their town. I was the proverbial lost ball in the weeds without her. I was totally unaware that the undercurrent was moving me, but my dad was about to teach me a lesson I would never forget. Part of that lesson would include learning to learn how to miss Melanie less as I began to stand on my own.

Remember, I was the shy, timid kid who just wanted to blend into the woodwork.

I panicked when I was called on to answer in class and hated having to read aloud. In spite of being shy, I had developed a small circle of friends, and was uncomfortable outside my circle. One evening while my mom was at the PTA meeting, my dad took me to the local ice cream parlor. He sent his little girl into the shop with the money for the cone and waited on the sidewalk for me. I was in line but, when my turn came, I was too afraid to step up and say so. I exited the shop without my ice cream and had to explain. Daddy marched me back inside with instructions to stand up let the waitress know when it was my turn. He stood back as I was forced to step up and utter those frightful words, I’m next. What I was too young to understand was that Daddy was teaching me to stand up for myself, and the lesson I learned that night, although too profound for first-grade understanding, has stayed with me until this day, although at times it was buried deep inside me.

The days moved by and soon came Junior High. At least that’s what we called it then; now, it’s Middle School. Changing classes and having a different teacher every hour was very hard for me. On the first day of school, I couldn’t find my homeroom. I remember the terror of being lost in what were the cavernous hallways of Jeffersonville Junior High. Finally, I found the class and, with relief, took a seat.

Junior high offered many new opportunities. I looked with envy as many of my classmates tried out for cheerleading. I wanted more than anything to become a Wildcat cheerleader, but alas, I could not overcome the fright that held me back from tryouts. I would attend pep rallies before football games with the rest of the student body and look longingly as the girls I sat in class with would lead the cheers of two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar… After arriving at home, I would lead the cheers in my room and pretend I was before the students cheering the team to V-I-C-T-0-R-Y. I believed the spotlight would never be mine and, even though I silently longed for it, obscurity was outwardly fine with me.

High school was more of the same with one exception: Connie. She became my friend just prior to my sophomore year and the undercurrent invaded my life again. Connie was two years older than me so, as a senior, she was in the know and one of the cool kids. She had a brand-new, bright green Camaro. She drove me to and from school. I moved in circles which were new to me and I developed new friendships. I was actually breaking out of my shell and then Connie graduated. I was lost again, but did not completely slip back into my old ways. By the time I was a senior, I was a leader in one of the school clubs and was an assistant to a favorite teacher. Still not a cheerleader, but making progress in becoming independent. Graduation came again and this time it was my turn. As the principal called Margaret Ann Miller, I stepped across the football field, shook the hand of the Superintendent of the Jeffersonville School System, and took my diploma. I left Jeffersonville High School in June and looked toward my future.

CHAPTER 2

I had been accepted at the university about a two-hour drive away from Jeffersonville, but that was too far to commute every day. With great fear and very little confidence, I watched my parents pull away from the dorm complex that fall. The fall was uneventful and I stayed mostly to myself. My roommate was always out so I studied and went to class. With the exception of my math class, my grades were great. I went home for Christmas and back to school for the spring semester. It was then that the undercurrent which had propelled me this far, picked up speed. A young man in my English class asked me to go out with him. I told him I would give him an answer the following class day. I didn’t go to class the next day. I didn’t want to face him and I really didn’t want to go out with him, but I didn’t want to say No. I avoided him as long as I could but, finally, he cornered me in the library and wanted an answer. I reluctantly said Yes and the undercurrent was in control. I was swept away with being attached to someone. I had dated only a few boys in high school and figured this was probably my last chance at a relationship (remember, I was 18 and felt over-the-hill) so I went along with whatever he said.

He was Scott Anthony Phillips. He had been a star baseball player in high school, but an injury cut short his hopes for college ball and the scholarship that it would have provided. An only child, he appeared to exude a confidence in himself more than anyone I had ever encountered. I later learned that if he had been all that he thought he was, he would have been something extraordinary. I could not see that at that time in my life. He was average height, blonde and blue-eyed. I had wondered about the slight limp early in the semester but soon found out about his injury. I supposed having been all that in high school and then having your life changed in one slide into second base helped embitter him to a degree. I didn’t see the bitterness right away. He presented himself as confident and self-possessed; I later would learn that was a cover for many insecurities.

Our first date was to a movie and then to a pizza parlor close to campus. I was to learn that he was employed at a local factory and was helping pay for his education. Years later, he told me I was spoiled because I didn’t have to work through college and had never worked at McDonald’s. Soon, we were hanging out at the student center. He introduced me to many of his friends. Before long, we were a couple. Let’s get Scott and Maggie to go, too was a phrase I heard a lot around the student center. Finally, it seemed I had found a niche in which to belong. Because of Scott, I felt popular for the first time in my life. We dated through the spring and, by the time finals were upon us, he proposed. I laughed at him because those were the most unbelievable words I had ever heard. He assured me that we would get married and soon. He had not even met my parents; I had only met his once. I planned a trip to Jeffersonville to introduce Scott to my parents. I was totally unprepared for their reaction.

My dad had not been real crazy about any of the boys I had dated. It is very safe to say that he didn’t have to dislike a whole bunch of them, because there weren’t many. But none-the-less, no one was good enough for his little girl. He wasn’t mean to them, but he wasn’t himself either. His reaction to Scott should have been a warning to me, but remember, the undercurrent had swept me into the pool of popularity, acceptance, and belonging that I had silently craved all my life. Daddy tried to be nice on Friday night when we arrived in Jeffersonville. He and Mama took us out to eat at the Iron Gate Cafe’ in town. It was the best Jeffersonville had to offer. Scott let it be known that he didn’t care for the place. Daddy bristled but was quiet. By the time Sunday afternoon arrived, as we prepared to leave for school, Daddy was beyond pretending to be nice. Mama was nice, but I knew she wasn’t happy about the situation either. I was in love with who I was when I was with Scott. I had friends and felt a self-confidence that I had never felt before. Daddy looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, Maggie, it doesn’t seem right to me but, if it makes you happy, I guess I can learn to live with it. Mama just cried and told me she loved me. Despite their objections, I began planning a small wedding.

I should have recognized a looming problem when the announcement of our engagement appeared in the Edmonson County Herald (our county paper) and in the local newspaper where Scott’s family lived. I had filled out the information sheet and sent in the picture I had asked my mother to send me. Upon publication, Scott’s mother called. I want to know why you left Scottie out of the newspaper article announcing your engagement.

Mrs. Phillips, I just followed what had been done in our county newspaper and didn’t realize that you would have any problem.

Well, Maggie, there is a problem. And you’d do well to just remember this: anytime I feel my Scottie isn’t being treated as well as he should be, you will be hearing from me. I don’t know what I’m going to tell our friends at church about his absence from the picture, but you can rest assured everyone will know that this was your doing. They have watched Scottie grow up and have followed his sports career in the newspaper articles. Now, I have to explain that he has been left out of his own wedding plans. I just can’t believe that you have left him out of this picture. This really should be reprinted to include him. And, with that statement, she hung up on me. I remember laying the phone receiver back in the cradle in complete numbness. I hadn’t plotted to leave Scott out of anything. I just did what I thought I should do by following the traditions of my home town. What I didn’t realize was that the tone for our relationship (mine and Mrs. Phillips’) had been set. When I mentioned the episode to Scott later in the day, he indicated that I should do my best to get along with his mother. She nearly died when I was born. No one crosses her without encountering severe problems. For the first time the thought crossed my mind, What am I doing? But the undercurrent flowed on.

The wedding took place on a hot August evening. Elaine Moody was my maid of honor. I had met her through Scott, and we became fast friends. We liked the same things and laughed at the same things. We agreed that Scott was arrogant and self- centered and, with Elaine in tow, I could stand up to Scott. I didn’t voice my opinion very often unless Elaine was around and, because of that, her presence had become increasingly annoying to Scott. He didn’t care for her, and told me he didn’t like me when she was around.

She’s bad for you, he’d shout at me. My response was usually, She was your friend first, so you must like something about her. He would just tum and walk away.

Elaine came to me just minutes before I was to walk down the aisle. Maggie, please don’t do this. Just leave with me. We’ll go out the back door of the church. No one will say anything bad to you. Everyone will understand, she pleaded. I couldn’t believe what she was saying to me. If I had looked closely at my dad’s face and listened to what Elaine was telling me, I might have found the strength to swim out of the undercurrent. Instead, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and plunged into the deep water of marriage with a man I knew deep in my heart I didn’t love.

Scott had taken over my life so completely, that the wedding was held in his hometown, at his church; not mine. Melanie and her family were there. She had loaned me a diamond bracelet her husband have given her for their first anniversary. That bracelet was my Something Borrowed. My Something New was, of course, my dress; Something Blue, a garter; Something Old, my grandmother’s diamond ring. I had done all the right things; all the traditions had been kept. I had even been adamant about not seeing Scott before the ceremony, so surely things would fall in place and this new life would be good. As I returned Melanie’s bracelet to her after the ceremony, she hugged me and wished me a lifetime of happiness. I remember crying as we hugged, but I couldn’t tell her why I was crying. Somewhere deep inside, I knew instinctively that a lifetime of happiness with Scott was going to elude me.

Several people from Jeffersonville attended the wedding. It wasn’t that long of a drive from town to town, and my parents had finally made friends with some of the local folks in Jeffersonville. What I understand now is how deeply I hurt my parents. There are some things one can’t understand until you have your own children. I didn’t realize I was breaking their hearts, but they put on a brave front for me and for their friends.

We had been married only a couple of weeks when school started again. There was one big difference: it started without me in attendance. I had taken a job on campus to support us while Scott finished school. We lived on campus and settled into normal student life. He went to the library most evenings; I watched a lot of television -- alone. We lived in a dorm for married students and, since our apartment was on the top floor and we had our own furniture and two television sets (I didn’t like watching every baseball game that came on), our friends called our apartment The Penthouse. Again, I had found an identity through Scott. What I didn’t know was that those friends would eventually be only my friends.

Scott graduated from college with a business degree. I continued to work to support us. He decided to enroll in a master’s degree program in another state and opted not to tell me until his acceptance was finalized. I had been given no voice in the matter, and my future had been decided without my knowledge or input. I began to pack and prepared to move to North Carolina. I left behind everyone and everything I knew: my parents, Scott’s parents (not too bad a deal after all!), our friends and my job. We moved into a small apartment, and I once again began the task of finding a job. After several weeks, I began work in a private investigator’s office. I would learn many valuable things while working for Mr. Max Davenport, P.I.

We had been married four years and I couldn’t help wanting to quit work to begin a family. Scott’s endless pursuit of education had led him to enroll in a Ph.D. program and, once again, I was not consulted. He had decided that he wanted to be a psychologist. I continued to work as he began classes again. If l thought he had put in long hours before, now he was never around. I worked and went home to prepare meals that went untouched. Leftovers last a long time when only one person is eating them. I left for work with Scott still in bed most mornings. When I returned home from work, the bed had to be made, Scott’s breakfast and lunch dishes had to be hand-washed (no dishwasher in the dorm), laundry had to be sorted and washed. Only then I could begin to think about dinner. The rut grew deeper; I grew more and more lonely. Many of our friends were beginning their families. One couple we were very close to had a beautiful little girl they named Lauren. I spent many evenings playing with Lauren all the while wishing for a child of my own.

When I expressed my desire to Scott, he just looked at me and asked if I was crazy. Well, you’re the psychology major, you tell me: Is it crazy for a young, married woman to want a baby?

You know we can’t even begin to think about a baby until I am finished with school

I’m beginning to believe you will never be finished with school. How many more programs can you find to enroll in without telling me?

You know that I have to have an education if I’m ever going to achieve my goals. You know I can’t play ball professionally so I must find an outlet that will satisfy me.

How many times did we have that conversation? A blue million, at least. It was all about Scott. Everything in our lives revolved around Scott. On the rare occasion he had free time, it was all about him: which restaurant he wanted to go to; which movie he wanted to see; which set of friends he wanted to spend time with. After all, he reminded me, he was the one who was studying hard and needed to relax in whatever manner he chose. He was the one giving his all to the education which would provide our future livelihood; I only worked a boring job and should be grateful for the free time he was able to spend with me. With his demeaning words ringing in my ears, I began to develop my own life. I threw myself into my boring job at Mr. Davenport’s office. I began to ask him questions; he rewarded me with answers and opportunities. I did research for him, learned how to do simple surveillance, learned how to work with lawyers and police officers. I even briefly entertained the idea of going to school at night to work on my own license. I was a loyal and efficient employee. Mr. Davenport praised my work and faithfulness often. I reveled in that praise. As you can imagine, there was very little praise at my house. When I finally got the courage to bring up the idea of getting my investigator’s license to Scott, he shot me down very quickly.

"You must be joking? You? Maggie, P.I.? Don’t make me laugh! I can see it now: Get Smart lives in the form of Maggie Phillips. You are kidding, right? You’ve got to be kidding. Don’t make me laugh!"

As he threw back his head and laughed hysterically, hot tears stung my eyes before rolling down my cheeks. I ran to the bathroom to cry my disappointment and hurt into the shower. Never again would I take a chance like that. Never again would I pour out my heart’s desire to him. Well, with one exception: I would never give up on having a baby.

CHAPTER 3

A s the moon rose that evening, Will McFarland stood on the porch of his small house waiting on something but not knowing what. He was to be married the following afternoon to his high school girlfriend, Suzanne Watkins. Will thought back over a lot of years as he stood there watching the moon rise, listening to the night sounds.

They had dated all through high school, but had broken up shortly after graduation. Suzanne had gotten pregnant that fall and married the older man who had fathered her child. The pregnancy ended in miscarriage but the marriage survived for two more years. Suzanne set out after Will soon after her divorce. In school, everyone had known how she was and never understood why a nice guy like Will would stay with her; but he stuck it out until graduation. Suzanne pushed Will all spring of their senior year to plan a wedding soon after graduation, but he didn’t want to get married that fast. So, rather than continue to listen to her constantly complaining that everyone else is getting married, why can’t we, Will called the relationship off.

Will had started to work in the local textile mill that summer. He decided quickly that he wanted more out of life than that mill. He enrolled in the junior college close to Jeffersonville, and took classes that fall while continuing to work part-time at the mill. There were many dates with many girls, but he