by Rebeca Seitz
“A loving kiss to make it all better,” he whispered against her mouth and kissed her again.
What am I doing? She pushed against his chest and backed up to the other side of the kitchen.
“Jane?”
“I’m sorry, Bill, I shouldn’t have—”
“Yes, you should, but it’s fine. We can go slow. I don’t want to rush you.”
“Bill, I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. I haven’t had much time to think since I saw you.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Okay, let’s talk it through now. I love you. I messed up.
I’m as sorry as I know how to be. But I’ve changed this past year, Jane. You’ve got to believe that.”
“Changed how?”
“Losing you made me realize how selfish I had become. I mean, all those years we shared, and I threw it away because some woman thought I was the best thing since apple pie. I should have asked why you no longer thought of me that way and fixed the problem between us, but it was easier to run away from you, from us.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Before I found out you were cheating, I didn’t think anything bad about you. I thought we had a pretty good marriage based on a solid foundation of trust and friendship. What you did, though, showed we didn’t have either of those things.”
He spread his hands out in front of him. “But we did, Jane. We’ve been best friends for over half our lives. From passing notes on the bus in junior high ’til right now. Do you want to walk away from that?”
“I didn’t walk away, Bill. You did.”
“You’re right. But who’s walking away now?”
“I wasn’t aware there was anything left to leave.”
He sighed. “I’ve never been as good at word games as you.”
“This is a game?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I think I’m making things worse.”
“It’s been a long day. How about I agree to think about your offer and you give me a few days to do that?”
He smiled, a smile she’d known almost forever. “All right.”
chapter 22
Tuesday dawned bright and crisp as Jane sat by the living room window, casting a glance up every three seconds to see if Jake was outside with Carter. Her wedding scrapbook lay open in her lap.
Wilson came and rested his head on her knee. “Hey, buddy. Your momma is messed up in the head. Why can’t I just tell Bill no?”
Wilson turned his head on its side, offering her his neck.
She obliged with a scratch. “What do you think? Do you like Bill or Jake?” She ran her fingers through his fur. Bill and Wilson had never meshed. Though Bill had gotten Wilson to be “their” dog, it was obvious after a couple of days which one of them the dog preferred. “This would be easier if I thought of them one at a time instead of comparing them, I think.”
She slapped the wedding album closed and stood up.
“Maybe I shouldn’t think of either of them at all. Come on, boy. We’ve got to get some work done.”
She worked for two solid hours on Sonya’s jungle-themed event, feeling much better about its status as check marks were placed down the to do list. At least I can still do my job well. She walked back out to the living room and looked through the window again. The lake was as empty as ever. Not even a duck swam upon its glassy surface. Her sigh woke Wilson from his sleeping position in the reading chair.
Mari sat in her office at Wachovia Bank, rereading the Google alert for the twentieth time. She had set a news alert for Chile as soon as they’d made the decision to adopt from the country. Each day, an e-mail popped into her in-box with all the day’s headlines for her second daughter’s home country. Tensions had been escalating between the people and their leadership for years. No one had expected anything to come of it.
And yet the words on her screen refused to change. There had been a fire at the orphanage where her Andrea lived. No further news was available, not even the knowledge of how many or if there were survivors. Her telephone warbled, and Mari snapped out of her trance.
“Marinilda Morales.”
“Mari? Honey, have you heard?” John’s voice broke. Her resolve to never show tears in the workplace flew out the window.
“John, I can’t find out anything. It just says there was a fire.
Is she alive?”
“I don’t know. I’ve called the agency, and they can’t get in touch with any of their workers in the area. They’re sending someone down in the morning. We’ll know by tomorrow. Sit tight. I’m on my way to your office.”
She nodded and hung up, staring again at the screen in front of her as tears coursed down her cheeks. Was God playing some cruel cosmic joke? First she can’t get pregnant. Then she can’t find a reason for her infertility. Then the months and months of filling out paperwork, sending it off, and waiting by the mailbox.
They were in the homestretch. No more snags, the agency worker said. It’s just a waiting game now. You’ve done the hard part.
She read the story again. Nobody could have seen this coming.
But surely Andrea was okay. God would not have let them come this far, crossed this many hurdles, only to yank their little girl from them in the eleventh hour.
She looked up as John walked through her office door, his face devoid of color save for the red of his eyes from too many tears. “Mari, we have to believe she got out.” He came around her desk and took her in his arms. “We have to believe.”
She nodded against his hand stroking her hair, then heard the click of the laptop as he closed it.
“Come on, honey. Let’s go home. The agency will call us as soon as they know something, but it may be a few days before their worker can get there, make his way to the orphanage, and get back to a communications center.”
She let him pull her up from her chair and walked in a daze out of the office, barely seeing the concerned expressions on her coworkers’ faces. The sunshine outside seemed inappropriate somehow. Her little girl may have died today. What right did the sun have to shine?
John’s hand at her elbow was a welcome anchor in the midst of mental turmoil. He walked her to the car parked at the curb, opening the door and placing her inside. She stared straight ahead, certain that this was all a nightmare.
Mac snapped the oven door closed on a casserole for Alice Turnbow at church, humming all the while. Alice’s cancer was responding to treatment, but she still needed some help feeding a family of six in a two-bedroom house. Not everyone in the Brentwood/Cool Springs/Franklin area of Nashville was as rich as the rest of the city would like to think.
The phone rang, and Mac walked over to answer it.
“Hello?”
“MacKenzie? It’s John, Mari’s husband.”
Mac’s senses, honed from years of weathering life’s storms, went on high alert. “Hi, John. Somethin’ wrong with Mari?”
“The orphanage in Chile, where Andrea is, has burned down.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, help us.”
“We don’t know about Andrea yet. We don’t know anything. The agency’s sending down a worker, but they won’t be able to tell us what’s going on for at least four days, and Mari’s just sitting there, staring at the wall. I don’t know what to do for her, Mac, but she came home from your house last week so happy to have found you girls that I thought maybe you’d have some ideas. She’s scaring me, and I don’t want Esmerelda to see her like this.”
“Of course not, John. You doin’ the right thing. I’ll call the Sisters. We’ll be right there.”
“Thank you, Mac.” Relief filled John’s voice.
“Ain’t no thanks needed. This is a Sister thing. We’ll be right there. You just hang on.” She hung up and snatched the receiver back off the cradle. Punching in Lydia’s number, the feeling of losing someone you loved to a sudden death came back over her. “Jesus, hold ’em in Your hands.”
“Hello?”
“Lydia?”
“Hey, Mac. What’s up?”
Mac told her about the fire.
“Oh, my word. I’ll call Jane. Get on over there. We’ll meet you.” Mac hung up, grabbed her keys, turned off the oven, and was revving her engine in ten seconds flat.
Jane stood in front of Jake’s front door, working up her nerve.
He had given her honesty about his past. It was only fair that she tell him Bill had come back into her life. Which wasn’t going to be taken well, considering his past. Taking a deep breath, she bit the bullet and knocked on his door. Think of it like a Band-Aid. Rip it fast and it won’t hurt as much.
“Hey there. I was just thinking about you.”
“Good thoughts, I hope?”
He swung the door open and motioned her in. “Always.”
“Were you busy? Did I interrupt something?”
“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes. Ah, the joys of working from home, right?”
“Right.” She fidgeted and looked around. How do I start this?
“Is something wrong? You look a little out of sorts.” He took her elbow and guided her to the chairs in the living room.
He sat, and she followed suit. “I’m not sure. But I need to tell you something, and I don’t want to.”
His forehead wrinkled. “That’s cryptic.”
She smiled. “Sorry.”
“I want you to know I appreciate your honesty with me about your past.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And because you were honest with me, it feels like I should tell you what happened yesterday.”
“Sounds fair.”
She sat in silence. This is a bad idea. Just tell Bill no, and Jake never has to find out. You don’t have to make him go through this again.
He leaned forward and took her hand. “What is it, Jane?”
“Bill called me Saturday.” Band-Aid, think Band-Aid. “I ran into him at the store on my way to Mac’s on Saturday, and he called me later and asked me to meet him, and I don’t know why, but I said yes, and so I saw him out at the mall for, like, two seconds, but that was long enough for him to tell me he’s sorry and has changed and wants me back, and then he came over yesterday with flowers and told me again that he’s sorry, and I don’t know what to do with that or what to say or how to feel or what this means for us, and I hate that this has happened.”
Her cell phone vibrated on her hip, and she grabbed it, grateful for anything to stop her torrent of words. Lydia’s name was on the caller ID. It could be anything from another fight with Dale to a kiddo in the emergency room.
“And even though this is the most inopportune time in the history of the universe to take a phone call, I have to answer this.” She flipped open the phone. “Jane Sandburg.”
“Jane, it’s Lydia. We’ve got to get to Mari’s. The orphanage in Chile burned down, and they don’t know if Andrea made it out.”
“What? When? How?”
“I don’t know anything other than that they won’t know about Andrea for several days, but John is freaked out because Mari’s just sitting there staring at the wall. He called Mac and asked if we could do something. Mac’s on her way there now.”
She glanced up at Jake. His eyes showed compassion, but he had let go of her hand at some point in her diatribe. He was now sitting back in his chair. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Grab your tea bags, and I’ll bring some valerian root. She’s probably in shock, but once that wears off, she’ll need something to calm her nerves and help her sleep.”
“Good. Good. I’ve got the tea in my hand. See you in five.
Be careful.”
“You too.” Jane snapped the phone closed. “The orphan- age one of the Sisters is adopting from burned down. They don’t know much of anything. I’ve got to get over there.”
“Of course. Go on.” He shooed her with his hands, and she remembered how much that had irked her the day they met in the parking lot of The Savvy Scrapper. Now it seemed kind.
She stood and walked to the door, anxious to get to Mari. “I’m so sorry to dump this on you and run.”
He smiled, but the sadness in his eyes unnerved her. “That’s life.”
Jane decided that was good enough and dashed into her apartment to put Wilson up and grab the natural sleeping aids she kept under the bathroom sink. Mari was more important than the mess of her love life.
Mac’s cell rang as she was pulled into Mari’s driveway. She thought about ignoring it, but years of raising a child who’d just as soon break the law as abide by it had taught her better.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Jones?”
“Yes, this is MacKenzie Jones.” She rolled her eyes, assuming it was a telemarketer.
“Are you the mother of Tabitha Jones?”
Her spine straightened. Only doctors, judges, and police officers used that tone of voice.
“Is she hurt?”
“No, ma’am. This is Officer Kent Tucker of the Nashville
Police Department. She’s fine. We’re holding her in our lockup along with a bunch of other kids we found in a meth lab out on the east side of town when we responded to a disturbing-the-peace call-in. Are you familiar with a boy by the name of Antonio Cooper?
Mac sighed. “Yes, I am. And, yes, I understand he’s gotten into meth. Was Tabby using?”
“No ma’am, I don’t think so. But she was there, and we brought everybody in who was in the house. Figured we’d sort it all out when we got down here to the station.”
“All right. How late can I come and get her?”
“Before midnight would probably be best. She’s at the station down by the Titans stadium. You know where it is?”
Mac sighed again. She knew the locations of too many police stations in this city.
“Yes, I know just where it is. I’ll be there soon’s I can. Thank you, officer.” Mac hung up and opened her car door. Tabby’s latest shenanigans took a backseat to the real pain and suffering happening behind that red front door.
chapter 23
Jane pulled up behind Lydia’s van and shut off her engine. Nothing about this would be easy. She walked up to the front door, feeling heavy sadness in the air. Had they gotten more news?
She pushed the small circle of light and heard a doorbell ring inside the house. Lydia answered it. “Hey, girl.” Her tone was hushed. She stepped aside, and Jane entered Mari’s house. Every wall had pictures of Mari’s family members. She had seen them when they were here on Sunday, but they’d been too busy arranging furniture for her to ask questions about Mari’s heritage. From wedding portraits to the standard school photos to candids, the walls were an intricate display of Mari’s love of family. A Puerto Rican flag hung on one wall above a large black-and-white wedding portrait.
“Hey, do you know if Mari is from Puerto Rico?”
“Yeah. She lived there through elementary school. Then her family moved here. Her grandparents and cousins are still there. That’s her parents in the picture.” Lydia pointed to the wedding portrait.
“Got it. So how’s she doing?”
Lydia shook her head. “She’s said a couple of words to us, but not much. John says it’s an improvement. Until Mac and I got here, she hadn’t said a word since he brought her home from the office.”
“Poor Mari. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”
“Me, either.”
“Where’s Emmy?”
Lydia walked toward the back of the house and pointed out a window. “Outside with John, playing on the swing set. He’s trying to keep her away from Mari until she snaps out of this.”
“Good idea.” Jane followed Lydia down a hallway. “Do you have hope of that happening anytime soon?”
Lydia looked over her shoulder as they stopped in front of the master bedroom door. “I believe in miracles.”
As they stepped into Mari’s bedroom, Jane noticed the closed blinds and darkness. Mac was sitting on one side of Mari, her big arm around Mari’s waist. She
was humming one of the songs they’d sung in church yesterday. Jane sat down on Mari’s other side.
She picked up Mari’s cold hand and sandwiched it in hers, rubbing a bit to warm it up. “Mari, I need you to talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.”
Mari turned her head, and Jane’s heart broke at the vacant look there. “Andrea’s orphanage. It burned.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper, and Jane leaned in to catch it all.
“When did that happen?” Keep her talking.
“Today. They’re only an hour ahead of us. While I was eating breakfast, her home was burning down.” Mari turned back toward the wall.
“Honey, look at me.” Mari obeyed. “Do you know what caused the fire?”
Mari shook her head. “We don’t know anything. They’re too far away.”
“John says the agency is sending someone. Is that right?”
Mari nodded. “But the orphanage is in the mountains. It’ll take days for us to know.”
“Then we’ll sit here and talk for days.”
Mari blinked, and her eyes focused on Jane. “You’re going to sit here for days with me?”
“You better believe it. We all are.” Lydia came and knelt down in front of Mari.
“You’re not alone, Sister,” Jane said. “We’re here, and we’re walking this road with you.”
Mari looked at each of the women. “Y’all barely know me.”
“Don’t matter if we met you five minutes ago. You’s a Sister. That’s enough.”
Tears tracked down Mari’s face. Long minutes passed in silence. Jane worried Mari had retreated back into her silent shell.
“Thank you,” Mari whispered.
“Ain’t no thanks needed.”
Jane let go of Mari’s hand and rubbed her shoulder instead.
“I’m glad you’re talking to us. We were a little worried there for a bit.”
“Lo siento. It’s just that we don’t know anything. And we can’t know for days. How am I supposed to walk around here, going through the motions, not knowing if my daughter is dead or alive?” Mari swiped at her tears.
“It’s hard; you’re right.” Mac’s big black hand covered Mari’s small olive one. “I ’member when Saul was off fightin’ the war and I had to go to bed ever’ night not knowin’ whether he was breathin’ Earth air or heavenly scent. But you got the same reason I had to keep on keepin’ on. Mine’s name is Tabby. Yours is Emmy.”