Second Chances

by P. D. Cacek

  Jessie nodded. “Yeah. Hi. I’m okay.”

  “What’s wrong with your voice?” The old woman’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “What’s wrong with his voice?”

  “He’s getting over a cold.”

  “Oh dear, the things you can pick up in a hospital. There should be a law.”

  “Yes, there should. Oh, is that for us?” The Mrs. reached for the plate. “Thank you, so much, Sue. Why don’t I just take that and—”

  “Oh, don’t bother, dear, let me.”

  The woman looked like she was in her eighties, but managed a quick sidestep and came around the table to Jessie before either of the Steinars could move.

  “When I saw you….” She leaned down, her face closing the distance between them. Jessie caught a whiff of vanilla and Bengay. “My, you do look a bit peaky, don’t you? Well, when I thought I saw you, I knew I had to bake some of those cookies you liked so much when I used to babysit you. You remember what kind they are, Curtis?”

  “Well, of course he does, Sue,” the Mrs. said as she came around the other side of the table and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so gently. “They’re—”

  “Let him tell me, Eva.” The old woman cocked her head to one side. “What kind are they, Curtis?”

  “Um….” Jessie took a deep breath and guessed. “Chocolate chip?”

  The old woman looked disappointed as she straightened and handed Jessie the plate.

  “Right you are. Well, I’ll let you get back to your dinner. Sorry to interrupt. Welcome home, Curtis.”

  Jessie nodded. “Thanks for the cookies.”

  The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re very welcome, Curtis.”

  “I’ll see you out, Sue.” The Mrs. took the plate from Jessie and put it on the table, then walked around the back of his chair and began herding the old woman toward the front door.

  “Go on, don’t let your food get cold, Curtis, Allan, I’ll be right back.”

  They ate and no one talked for the rest of the meal.

  The cookies were good.

  * * *

  Arvada, Colorado

  Jess hadn’t noticed the blood on the floor until he was about to leave and by that time it had already started to dry. Three drops, one large, two small, where Richard had been standing. The thought of bending down to clean them up made his own blood pound in his ears, but he knew he couldn’t leave it.

  Or could he?

  The congregation might want to see how he, their shepherd, had spilled blood for them and their faith. Jess took out his pocket handkerchief and spit on it as he bent down. The blood belonged to a traitor and blasphemer who had turned his back on everything they believed and held dear. If so much as a smear remained, it would pollute the sanctity of their belief.

  “One body,” Jess said as he wiped the blood away. “One soul.”

  The blood was stubborn, almost as stubborn as the man it had come from. Jess hawked another wad of spit on the stain.

  “I should have listened to you, Jessica,” he said as he scrubbed at the hardened outlines. “I’m so sorry. I should have done what you asked. It would have been justified and I would have saved our friends from the sin they now commit. I should have listened to you. I should have been stronger. I should have had more faith.”

  Jess sat back on his heels and looked at the floor. It was clean again, free of the contamination.

  “But I swear to you, Jessica, on your soul, that I’ll make this right. I will bring them back into the fold and make them see to what depths their transgression had brought them. I will save them, Jessica, I swear it.”

  Holding the soiled handkerchief by one corner, Jess stood up and walked to his office. He had a sermon to write.

  The Way. The Truth. The One Life.

  “Amen.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Phoenixville, Pennsylvania

  Jessie pulled the chair closer to the window and stared down at the small greenish lights that flashed on and off across the front lawn. He’d never seen fireflies before and it was like watching a miniaturized fireworks display.

  To make up for the one he’d missed.

  In the hospital there hadn’t been much to do at night except watch TV and sleep, so his body had gotten used to it and started yawning just after eight. The Mrs. had suggested he go up to bed – he was still convalescing, remember – and it had sounded like a pretty good idea until he saw the fireflies.

  That had been an hour ago and he was still watching them.

  Jessie turned when the door opened, squinting at the light that silhouetted the Mrs. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

  Jessie looked back into the room that wasn’t really dark. There were enough glow-in-the-dark stars and planets decorating the ceiling that the room was almost as bright as the evening sky.

  “I was watching the fireflies. We don’t have any in Colorado.”

  The Mrs. turned on the overhead light. “Colorado? Oh, is that where you’re from?”

  “Yeah,” Jessie said, but didn’t elaborate. Both Millie and Dr. Ellison said he didn’t have to talk about his life – meaning his other life – if he didn’t want to. And they must have told the Steinars the same thing because the Mrs. took the hint.

  “I thought you’d be asleep by now. Oh.” She took a step into the room and stopped. “You’re still dressed. Where are your pajamas?”

  He wasn’t dressed, exactly. Jessie looked down at the baggy shorts he’d found in a drawer and undershirt he’d put on instead of the pale blue cotton pjs that looked too much like the ones he wore in the hospital.

  “This is okay.”

  The Mrs. took a deep breath. “I should have bought new pajamas, I’m sorry. It’s just that Curtis used to wear those shorts when he was upset with me because he knew I hated them.”

  Jessie ran his hands down against the material. “I’m sorry. I’ll put on the pajama bottoms.”

  “That would be lovely, thank you,” the Mrs. said, but didn’t leave the room as Jessie took off the shorts and pulled on the pajamas. It might have been really awkward if he hadn’t also been wearing underwear and, fortunately, she didn’t say anything about that. “I thought you were sleepy.”

  Jessie sat down on the edge of the bed and gently poked around the inside of his head. The cloud was still there, but only around the edges like thin mist. Maybe he was getting used to it. “I guess I got my second wind.”

  The Mrs. nodded and it was the first time Jessie had ever seen anyone, other than in some of those old black-and-white movies Abbie liked to watch, wring their hands. It looked even stranger in real life.

  “I want to apologize for this evening, Jessie. I shouldn’t have let her in and I want to thank you for playing along. Mrs. Ramos is an old busybody. She always has to know what’s going on. When the ambulance arrived…after Curtis had his accident…she was the first person over here asking all sorts of questions and getting in the way. The whole neighborhood knew about it by the time we got home that night and they probably already know about this. About her telling everyone that Curtis is home, I mean, but don’t worry, I’ll keep her and everyone else away until you feel more like yourself.”

  Like that was going to happen.

  “The thing is…. May I sit down?”

  Jessie nodded and watched her cross the room to perch on the edge of the desk chair. She didn’t look very comfortable.

  “Thank you. Now, I know it’s a difficult thing to ask of you, but do you think you could continue to pretend to be Curtis until we explain things? I mean, if we happen to run into anyone who knew him.”

  Jessie nodded. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know about him. “Sure.”

  The Mrs. exhaled and her hands finally went still. “I know this isn’t your home, Jessie, but we want you to feel comfo
rtable here, so if there’s anything you need just let me know.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” The Mrs. stood up. “Well, it’s still a little early for your medication, so…would you like to come downstairs and watch TV with us?”

  Oh hell no. Jessie forced a yawn. “Maybe I’ll just read a little or something.”

  She smiled. “I’m afraid Curtis was only interested in science and math, he was a genius, you know, but I think there might be a few fiction books in the shelves. And we can always order whatever you like.”

  Jessie looked at the bookcase. He’d already checked out the titles and opened a few and they were all science and math books, just like the Mrs. said, but they were written for kids, grades four to six. If Curtis was a genius like the Mrs. said, where were all the real textbooks?

  Not that Jessie cared. He’d never been all that great at math, or science either.

  “Can I use the laptop?”

  “Why?”

  Jesus, did she think he was going to look at porn? “To play games. You know, solitaire, stuff like that.”

  The Mrs. smiled. “Well, Curtis did love his games, but I don’t know his password. If you can wait I’ll have Allan take a look at it in the morning and see if he can change it. I don’t know much about computers.”

  “I do,” Jessie said. “Can I try?”

  For some reason that made the Mrs. chuckle. “Well, of course you can try. Just don’t be disappointed if you can’t do it.”

  Jessie wondered if she was saying that because he wasn’t a genius like her son.

  “Okay.”

  The Mrs. stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll come back when it’s time for your medication.” She nodded and left the room.

  Jessie nodded back to the empty doorway and walked to the desk. The room might be everything a kid playing out some future scientist fantasy could hope for – from the glow in the overhead stars to the wall posters of famous real geniuses (some with not very nice remarks scribbled on them) – but the laptop was top of the line.

  Jessie lifted the lid and cracked the knuckles of the big, bony hands.

  “Okay, let’s see how much of a genius you really were.”

  * * *

  Arvada, Colorado

  Jess sat back and looked at the writing tablet on the desk in front of him.

  The blood he’d spilled was gone and the handkerchief that had cleaned it burned to ash in one of the church’s portable barbecues, but it had left its mark on him, and the longer Jess sat at his desk the more he realized a sermon denouncing the man and woman who had betrayed their church and their beliefs wouldn’t be enough.

  They had turned their backs on everything they once believed.

  They had rejected The Way, The Truth, The One Life.

  Their sin required more than just words, but words were all he had.

  For the moment.

  Jess barely remembered the drive home or acknowledging his daughter as they passed in the downstairs hall – him to his office, her toward the family room.

  “You’re home.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  But he remembered sitting down at his desk and ignoring the laptop in favor of a pen and pad of lined paper.

  Some words and thoughts required a more personal touch.

  He’d written five pages when a tentative knock echoed through the office door.

  He set the pen aside and folded his hands over the page he’d just finished. “Come in.”

  Abigail opened the door but stopped before actually walking in. She looked half-asleep and the skin beneath her eyes looked bruised.

  “Mr. Wingate called and asked if you could call him back. He said it was important.”

  Jess looked down at his hands. “It’s not and I don’t want you to pick up if they call again, okay? Just let it go to voice mail.”

  She nodded and started to leave.

  “Abigail?” She turned, still holding onto the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

  He expected her to say she was fine even though she wasn’t, that was the gentle lie they’d been telling each other since the funeral, but this time she didn’t.

  “I can still feel her.”

  “What?”

  “Jessie. It’s like I can still feel her, like she’s out there somewhere.”

  Jess stood up and walked across the room. She trembled a little when he took her into his arms.

  “I know, baby, and she is. She’s looking down at us from paradise.”

  “No. She’s closer.”

  It took Jess a moment to realize what Abigail was saying, what she meant, and he didn’t react well.

  Grabbing her arms, he pushed her away from him and shook her. “No! Jessica’s dead and went to her grave whole, in body and spirit. She’s dead, Abigail, accept it! Believe it!”

  He hadn’t meant to shout or hurt her, but he did both. She looked up at him, her eyes a little too wide, a little too wet, and nodded.

  “Good, because I know Jessica was delivered from us whole and incorrupt. Her body returned to the earth the same way her spirit returned to Heaven and if you feel anything, anything, you feel her love, which is eternal.” Jess released his grip and walked back to his desk.

  He heard the door click shut as he sat down and reread the last line he’d written before picking up his pen.

  What will it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his soul?

  * * *

  Phoenixville, Pennsylvania

  Jessie leaned back in the desk chair and blew the air out of his lungs in one long frustrated puff. This should have been a piece of cake. He’d cracked Abbie’s password on their first joint computer – JeSsieISaSnoop!!14 – in under ten minutes.

  It was twice that now and he still wasn’t any closer to cracking the Boy Genius’s code than when he first started. Jessie rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a deep breath. It couldn’t be that hard.

  spaceship1? No.

  maninmoon1? Nada.

  geniusboy1? Dammit.

  Jessie looked at the defaced poster of Albert Einstein on the wall above the desk.

  aeinstein1 Nothing.

  “Augh!”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Jessie stared at the screen until the screensaver popped up and a pixelated version of Wylie Coyote began chasing an equally pixelated Roadrunner.

  Hmm.

  Jessie reached for the mouse and ran it back and forth across the pad until the startup screen came back.

  Okay, let’s try lucky #52.

  roadrunner Enter. No.

  53: wyliecoyote No.

  54: whilecoyote Also no.

  Um…. What was it they always said?

  55: meepmeep

  56: meepmeep1

  “Dammit.”

  57: iamagenius. Perfect. Nope.

  58: imagenius1

  Another swing and a miss. “Goddammitto—”

  Wait.

  Jessie tapped the caps lock.

  59: IMAGENIUS1

  WELCOME

  “Yes!”

  Jessie clicked on the internet link and had a moment of shock when he discovered a single Gmail account but no social media presence. How could anyone live without Facebook or Twitter or YouTube or Instagram or Reddit? Well, that was easily fixed.

  In the boy genius’s honor Jessie used the shot of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue as a profile picture for the new Facebook account. Once established, Jessie moved the cursor to the search box and typed in Jessie F. Pathway, curious to see if Abbie had deleted the page after the funeral.

  She hadn’t, and it was strange to look at the picture Abbie had posted – it showed a girl who looked like Abbie b
ut wasn’t, smiling at the camera. The name Jessica Faith Pathway and the day of her death was printed across the bottom of the picture.

  There were one hundred and four comments below the picture, Jessie counted them, all accompanied by either a sad face emoji or GIFs that showed flowers or candles or sunsets.

  Not bad, but not as impressive as the three hundred plus comments, virtual hugs and condolences on Abbie’s page.

  All of which Abbie had Liked or Loved before answering.

  Jessie moved his hands to the keyboard, still not knowing exactly what he was going to type until he saw the words appear in the comment box.

  I’m sure Jessie’s watching.

  He hit Send just as the bedroom door opened.

  Jessie could almost hear Lurch’s voice as he shut down the computer and stood up. Medication time, gentlemen. Medication time.

  * * *

  Eva opened the door just enough to clear the latch. Curtis hated to be interrupted when he was on the computer and maybe his body remembered that.

  “May I come in?”

  There was a soft thump from inside and a pause, then the voice that didn’t sound anything like Curtis said, “Sure.”

  He was on the bed with a pillow propped up under his head, reading. Eva glanced toward the computer, tempted to feel the case to see if it was warm. But if she did that he’d know she didn’t trust him, so she smiled and looked at the book he was holding instead.

  “Which book is that?” He held it up but she still had to walk almost to the bed before she could read the title. “Oh, that one. It is a bit silly, isn’t it? About a space pet…no real science in it, but Curtis liked it.”

  He nodded. “Me too. I read The Star Beast when in third grade but it’s still kind of fun.”

  Eva was trying to think of something to say – Curtis hadn’t really developed an interest in reading until he was twelve – when her husband pushed past her, holding the prescription bottle and glass of water. He’d told her he was going to be in charge of Jessie’s meds and she hadn’t argued. Not this time.

  “Excuse me, Eva. I don’t know how fast these work,” he said as he handed Jessie the glass and opened the bottle, “so if you have to use the bathroom…brush your teeth or anything…you’d better do it now.”