Couldn’t Mike have left well enough alone? Why had he asked the one question sure to bring on nothing but sorrow? For her. For him. He’d known the answer, anyway. How could he not?
That’s how it had been during her three frantic college years, when she made herself too busy to reflect on anything more than classes and part-time jobs. That search to fill up her time—her life—kept up as she job-hopped from one state to another. Maybe looking for a place she could finally consider home.
After the last “love you” exchange with her dad she’d pedaled her bike through town to the bridge and into the park. Mike was already there, along with Emma and Neil. The three had claimed a picnic table under the trees. She’d waved at others from their senior class who were like islands of kids dotting the sea of green grass. A few sat in a row on top of the railing that extended beyond the bridge.
Such high spirits that night. Their sense of freedom filled the air around them as they held up soda cans and made toasts and cheered over graduation. The day they launched their real lives. Ruby was excited about another summer working alongside Mike at the Hidden Lake Resort, where they’d count the days before packing and driving away together to college.
They’d been so immersed in their own happiness they barely noticed the police car, sirens silent, but lights flashing, emerging through the bridge, typical of a routine drive-in/drive-out check done two or three times on summer evenings. But in this instance the cruiser stopped and two officers got out. Neil left the picnic table and jogged over to join the group gathering to find out what the police wanted.
Neil was gone barely a minute before he yelled, “Ruby, Mike. Get over here. Now.”
She and Mike exchanged a glance as they got up from the bench. She recalled the tiny detail of Mike grabbing her hand as they ran to Neil. Someone, Ruby was never sure if it was her mom or her sister, or maybe Mike’s dad, had told the police where to find them. By the time they sat in the backseat of the cruiser with their arms around each other, their friends and classmates were gathered on either side of the road to watch them leave. Ruby remembered Emma cupping her hands around her nose and mouth as she watched them leave.
The rest was a blur. The ten-minute trip to the ER. Rushing through the automatic doors. A man with a minister’s collar standing with Mike’s dad in the waiting room. Spotting her mother and sister sitting in chairs in the far corner. Even if Ruby hadn’t seen her mom, she’d have heard her wailing while Dee sat stoically with her arm around her.
Ruby glanced up at Mike. His face was fixed in disbelief. She broke away from him and hurried to her mom and Dee, dropping to her knees in front of their chairs. It didn’t take long to piece it all together. Her dad, dead. Mike’s mom, dead. Killed on the highway just out of town in a two-car collision.
Before she understood the whole of it, Ruby looked back at Mike, maybe twenty feet away in a huddle with his dad and the minister. Mike caught her eye, but his grimace didn’t change. Then he turned his back on her.
Later, Ruby understood why his expression hardened and why he didn’t want to face her. They’d each lost a parent that night, but that wasn’t the whole of it. Mike’s dad and the chaplain on duty had other facts she didn’t. So did her mom and Dee.
“I don’t ever want to see Mike again.” Her mom had spit out the words. “Do you hear me, Ruby?”
“Mike? What?” She turned to Dee. “What’s she talking about?”
“I can explain,” a voice behind her said, as a warm hand circled her arm and helped her to her feet. “I’m Gray Austin, the chaplain on duty tonight.”
Ruby stood. “Explain what? My dad was killed. And Mike’s mom.”
“Oh, no, you don’t understand,” Ruby’s mom shouted.
Chaplain Austin immediately stepped around Ruby and sat in the empty chair next to her mother. Ruby again looked at Mike, who now stared at her across the expanse of the ER. His expression, grim before, was icy now. The bright blue eyes she loved so much were narrowed into slits. She read the loathing in his expression.
Suddenly, Mike’s dad was pointing a finger at her. “Your father killed Ellen,” he shouted. “Do you get that, Ruby? The high-and-mighty principal killed my wife.”
Disbelieving, Ruby lifted her open hands, as if imploring Mike to say something, do something. But the cold, hateful look was fixed on his face.
“Ruby, listen to me, now.” The chaplain got to his feet and gently took her elbow. “Your father and Mrs. Abbot were in your dad’s car. He was driving, you see.”
“They were having an affair. Cheating on us.” Her mother’s words echoed through the room, empty but for their families and a couple of nurses.
Ruby spun around to face Mike. He was watching, but he shifted again. She started toward him, but Chaplain Austin held her back. “No, Ruby. Not now. You and Mike can talk later. Stay here with your mom and sister.”
The loud male voice boomed in the room again. Mike’s dad was pointing at her mom. “Ellen is dead because of Tim. You know that’s true, Stephanie.”
Her mother stood, ghostly pale but for her reddened eyes. In an unnaturally calm voice, she said, “Come on, girls. We’re done here.”
The chaplain put his arm around her mom’s shoulder and guided her to the registration counter. Dee took Ruby’s hand and led her in the same direction. Dressed in shorts and a tank top to spend the warm June night outside, Ruby suddenly shivered in the air-conditioned room. She rubbed her arms and drew in her hunched shoulders, but nothing stopped the shivering or the goose bumps on her mottled skin. Ruby closed her eyes and half listened to talk of death certificates and a back-and-forth with a nurse about an autopsy. Her mother said a loud no and that was that.
Ruby’s mother waved her hand at Mike and his dad. “You stay away from us, Charlie. And that goes for you, too, Mike.”
Ruby wanted to run to Mike. They needed to comfort each other, didn’t they? But how could they? His mother with her dad? She stood by the door, shaky, and her knees were almost too weak to support her weight, let alone go to Mike. What would she say?
Her mom’s shouts got Charlie’s attention, but Mike didn’t look up. He kept staring at the floor, shaking his head.
Charlie lowered his voice and said, “Tim Driscoll ruined everything.”
In a flash Mike glanced her way, with that same way-beyond-grim expression. She’d never wipe away the message of loathing—hate—his expression sent. It was silent, but clear—they were over.
As if her mother dug deep and took control of herself, she lifted her chin and, with dry eyes, motioned for Dee and Ruby to follow her through the automatic doors that opened as if obeying her command.
Even then, Ruby understood exactly what those words meant. Confusion and grief and shock aside, she and Mike were done. Ruined. Her dad killed his mom. Or that’s what Charlie Abbot said. Two other people died that same night in the other car. And her dad had been driving the car with Mike’s mom in it. Even in all that pain, though, Ruby didn’t believe, not for a second, that anyone died because her dad had been reckless. She held on to that over the few days after, as she changed every plan she’d so carefully designed and, instead, drove out of town forever.
Ruby slid open the patio door to let the dog back inside and dried her off with a towel. Tending to the dog helped Ruby’s emotions settle once again. It was a relief, actually, finally confronting Mike about the last time they saw each other.
“Just a few more weeks and we’ll be off to a new home,” she whispered, as if Peach would understand her words or the sadness behind them.
But like Emma said, no matter where she went the memories would come along like wispy ghosts.
CHAPTER FOUR
“HEY, BUDDY, SCOOT OVER.” Mike playfully huffed and puffed in his game of pretending Jason was so heavy he had to strain to slide him across the sheet. “You’re getting so big I can ba
rely move you.”
That brought a smile to Jason’s face as he wiggled his body to make room for Mike to sit next to him on the narrow bed. Mike’s old bed. Jason handed him two books, one about a couple of giraffe families that had been so well loved, Mike had to drag out the stapler and tape to keep it in one piece. Jason himself had dropped the book into the box of things Mike had taken from his room at his mom’s house. The other story was a brand-new book written by a local author about a boy on a farm. They’d only read it six or seven times already, Mike thought, amused. At least it was a book Jason had chosen himself in last week’s trip to the local library. He was letting more new things in with the old, Mike thought with satisfaction.
When he’d first gone to Pennsylvania to be with Jason at the hospital, he’d read the same stories again and again to the silent boy. Jason hadn’t wanted to look at any books that weren’t taken from the shelves in his room at home. Only since coming to Bluestone River had Jason discovered the wonder of the library. It was a sign he was moving forward and adjusting to his new life.
That afternoon, Gloria had spoken to Mike about Jason’s progress in therapy. She believed Jason’s love of stories was a coping tool that helped him make sense of what had happened to his mother. He was unconsciously sorting out his memories of the fire. His burns and the loss of his mom included. According to Gloria, the mysterious mechanisms of memory were forming a story, a version of events he’d remember and be able to tell. Then, when he was older, his mind could handle a more complex explanation of the fire and what happened to his mom, and to him.
No one had to explain that mechanism of memory to Mike. For years he’d been telling himself a story about Ruby running away. She abandoned him. She was the one who destroyed any possibility the two of them could get past what had happened to their parents. Ruby proved it by rushing out of town, telling only Emma where she’d gone. Emma said it was a secret and kept her word to Ruby and refused to say. Barely a week later Neil told him a For Sale sign was stuck in the grass in front of Ruby’s house. Before the end of the summer, Ruby’s mom and Dee had left for Florida. Nothing was left of the Driscoll family, except Timothy Driscoll’s headstone in the cemetery.
All that happened before Mike could accept his mother was gone, and it took much longer for him to face the reality that his mom had been unfaithful to his dad. He’d stayed stuck as an immature boy about that. He had to grow into a man before he could see his mother as a woman with her own private thoughts and feelings, as well as troubles and desires that had nothing to do with him. He hardly knew how to talk about Timothy Driscoll. He thought of Ruby’s dad as a principal who expected a lot from the teenagers he was in charge of. He had a little swagger, too, like a man aware of the respect he commanded. Mike had secretly liked that about him. He didn’t mind taking his share of jabs over dating the principal’s daughter. A couple of decades later, Mike still could shut his eyes and swear he heard Neil’s voice leading the razzing.
When Jason’s breaths were soft and regular in the deep first stage of sleep, Mike closed the book and eased himself off the bed. With any luck, Jason would stay peaceful through the night. No way to predict how those hours would go, though. Mike had had to get used to that in the first few days after he’d brought Jason home from the hospital.
Mike closed the door behind him and started down the hall to the kitchen, passing the open door of his own room and the spare bedroom he planned to turn into his home office. He also passed the door to the enclosed stairway to his parents’ bedroom and other smaller rooms upstairs. He’d avoided the second floor and his parents’ room altogether after moving back in. As much as he welcomed the familiarity of the house, he wasn’t ready to move into their large bedroom, even with the full bath his dad had added to please his mom.
Earlier, he’d called Emma and asked for Ruby’s cell-phone number. Now he stood at the island in the kitchen with his phone in his hand. Waffling. Telling himself it was okay to call her, but then talking himself right back out of it. What would he say if she picked up his call?
With a frustrated groan, he let his head drop back. His mind made a detour as he stared at the patch of peeling white paint on the ceiling. Every day he saw something in the place that needed fixing. His parents had updated the house, but now it looked kind of dingy and old. The walls, the windows and the floors were calling for attention. But after Jason, his law practice was his priority. Figuring out the house could wait.
Still hanging on to the phone, Mike walked out to the porch. It was only 8:30 p.m., but it was dark at the lake and the sky was dotted with clouds moving fast in the breeze. But being away from the lights of the highway and town made it dark enough for a few stars to break through. He and Ruby used to sit side by side in the rowboat and look up at the stars. In the summer, Ruby usually found the points of the Big Dipper and at other times she searched for Sirius because it was the brightest star in the sky.
“Nope, you’re the brightest star,” he’d quipped, snorting at what he knew was a pretty lame joke.
Ruby had responded with a quick laugh, but then she’d kissed him and they’d let the boat drift around the far end of the lake while he kissed her back. Ruby’s soft full lips, her warm skin, her easy, hearty laughter used to be on his mind all the time, starting in the morning when he got ready for school. Sometimes he drove a little too fast to get there just so he could see her before their first class. They studied together and hung out at the bridge and stuffed themselves with big platters of fries in the diner downtown. And rowed around the lake until it froze over in the winter. Starlight, moonlight, no light at all. It didn’t matter.
So many memories had faded over the years, but his time with Ruby came back in colors as vivid as her red hair. Or the purple raincoat she’d worn just the other day. He still remembered purple was her favorite color.
He picked up his phone.
* * *
MIKE THREW OFF the sheet and blanket and his bare feet hit the cold floor. Pulling a sweatshirt over his head, he hurried across the hall, the grogginess of being awakened from a deep sleep disappearing fast. Jason’s piercing cries were louder still when Mike opened the door and then scooped his son’s rigid body into his arms and pulled him to his chest. “Shh, shh... It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, Jason. You’re safe, you’re safe.” He rested his cheek on the top of Jason’s head, comforted by his soft curls.
“You’re fine now,” Mike whispered, rocking him slightly. “It was only a dream. Not real at all. You’re home in your own bed, safe with me.” Mike tugged up the blanket, tucked it around Jason’s shoulders and enveloped him in his arms until he could feel the muscles in the boy’s back and neck begin to let go. “See? What did I tell you? Everything is okay now.”
Tension eased in Mike’s body, too, and he leaned back to let the headboard support his weight. Like other nights, the cries quieted into weak whimpers until they trailed off altogether. Mike closed his eyes, thankful for even this small sign of improvement. Week by week, fewer of his son’s nightmares jolted Mike in the middle of the night, and they didn’t last as long, either.
He listened to Jason’s breathing and when the inhales and exhales returned to a reassuring rhythm, Mike kept him covered while he rolled him fully onto the bed. He waited a couple of minutes before creeping down the hall into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. Outside it was dark and silent. Inside, Jason was sleeping, but Mike was wide-awake at 2:30 a.m., a time guaranteed to build Mike’s fears into monsters waiting to pounce. In the middle of the night all he could see was a future spent raising a child who wouldn’t or couldn’t speak. Ever. And a failed law practice. His savings would shrink month after month. If he wanted to stay in Bluestone River, then what?
Mike put his hands flat on top of the island counter and stretched back, feeling the tension build in his body. When the world was dark, Mike’s natural optimism, so real and strong during the day
, felt like a pretense. And he never felt more alone than in these moments.
* * *
RUBY KEPT HER distance as Jason stood with the toes of his sneakers at the edge of the lake. It was October now and what was left of the turning leaves on the trees reflected orange and gold on the flat surface of the water. “I can almost see the wheels turning in that little head,” she remarked to Mike. “All he wants is for one of those tiny lake waves to come close so he can jump back from it and win the challenge. Boy triumphs over the wild sea.”
“Looks like he’s in for a long wait to feel heroic today.” Mike chuckled as he spread his arms and looked at the brilliant fall sky. “Not many more warm afternoons like this.” He paused. “I’m glad I convinced you to visit us here, on Jason’s turf.” He nodded in Jason’s direction. “So, what do you think?”
Ruby continued staring at Jason while she formed her thoughts into a tactful answer to his question. “Let’s start with the obvious. Jason looks so much like you it’s almost comical. He’s obviously bright and curious—and so engaged. But, I’m wondering how fearful he must be underneath that sweet, compliant mask he wears.”
“Mask? I’m not sure I’d call it that.” Mike shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Just because he’s compliant, as you put it, doesn’t mean he’s...afraid.”
“Hold on, Mike, I’m not saying he’s really a bad kid underneath it all, but don’t you think he’s a little too, oh, I don’t know, placid?”
Mike grunted in frustration. “That’s what Gloria said.”
Ruby had heard Mike talk about Jason’s therapist, and given the natural way the boy played and acted—minus the mutism—it was clear somebody was doing something right. Zoe before she died, and Mike in the months since. Behaving like a model child, Jason had everything he needed more or less handed to him. Even Peach was standing quietly at his side. Given all the other circumstances, Ruby had to admit that being pleasant and compliant seemed like a smallish problem.
A Family for Jason Page 6