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by Bart Hopkins

  “Sure,” she said. “But I think we’ll give clients a folder with their name. You know? Once we have them as a client we need to have everything for them in one place.”

  “True. You always were a smart one, weren’t you? After all, I discovered you in a library reciting poetry!”

  She smiled at him.

  “You know what drew me to you? Back when we were in school?” she asked.

  “Hmm. That I pursued you, relentlessly, until you deigned to go out with me?”

  “Well,” she laughed. “That may be just a tiny bit true. But, really, it boils down to what other people might call your eccentricities. Those quirky little things that make you Martin. Like, how I’ve never met anyone who loved language as much as you.”

  “To be or not to be!” he thundered in response.

  “Or was quite so melodramatic,” she added. “Those things were part of it, but there was also your keen sense of right and wrong. You’re very much black and white with your beliefs, and I appreciated that.”

  “Indeed.” He pulled her close, put his face into her neck, and breathed in deeply.

  “Later,” she replied. After decades together she knew all of his moves. “Let’s get back to business.”

  “Right. But stopping now is very wrong. Just so you know—black and white—that’s where I stand.”

  She laughed and began shuffling emails around on the computer.

  “So, we have thirteen for ‘Need Help,’ twenty for ‘Volunteers,’ and twenty-five people offering praise and thanks and good luck that we’ll drop in the ‘Good Luck’ folder. Some of them say they gave money already, too!”

  “Wow, that’s fantastic. I’m already leaning toward the family whose son has cancer.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  “I think we’re going to need that office space soon.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Why don’t we see what this Kickstarter thing is doing?”

  Zoe pulled up the Kickstarter site, but faltered for a moment at the login and password screen. She couldn’t remember what they’d chosen. Then she smiled, shook her head, and typed rendezvous with fatum. It was Martin’s personal joke that he was meeting with his own fate. Then she hit return, and almost immediately brought a hand to her mouth.

  “On my God, Martin.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’ll be … if we were in a movie, one of us would faint right now. Probably you, as the lady.”

  They were staring at their Kickstarter dashboard. The numbers were dizzying. Electrifying. In two days they’d raised over ten thousand dollars.

  “You were right,” he told her.

  “About what?”

  “Oh-Em-Gee.”

  Chapter 22

  Rose and The Connors

  Rose waited impatiently for Tom’s call.

  She hadn’t imagined this scenario. All of the late nights looking at Facebook, sifting through Mary Beth’s pictures, imagination running wild, her brain filled with joyous reunions with her daughter … she figured she had covered every possibility.

  Of course, when you think you have it all figured out, that’s when life usually slaps the shit out of you, she thought, remembering her conversation with Tom the day before…

  “I’m glad you finally came,” Tom had said. Her mouth gaped, the words coming out of his mouth almost incomprehensible to her. She had lived through some weird things in her life. Sketchy moments in the drug years like this foot chase with a policeman during which she evaded arrest at the last minute by doing a movie-style leap over a fence into someone’s backyard. The intensity of that moment paled in comparison to Tom’s simple words.

  “Really?” she’d choked out, upper and lower palate sticking together as if bound with adhesive.

  “Really,” he confirmed. Smiled.

  He sat down with her then and the inevitable awkward silence commenced. Surprisingly, well, thanks to Tom really, it only lasted a few moments. Then he started talking, and she talked, and everything became crystalline.

  “We’ve looked you up, you know,” he told her. “Mary Beth, umm, well she…”

  “Doesn’t want to see me ever again?” Rose asked nervously.

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just hard to put into words. She’s confused. She isn’t sure what she should do,” he paused briefly then continued, never dropping his eyes from hers, “I won’t sugarcoat it, Rose. It’s been so many years without you, no explanation, nothing. She doesn’t know what to do.

  “We did some Internet searching, and it wasn’t hard to find you. We have your address. You know, we were even in Austin about a year ago, and we actually drove through your neighborhood, saw your house…”

  “Really?” Rose felt as if someone had reached into her chest and pinched her heart.

  “Yeah, but Mary Beth sort of freaked out, and umm, she was a little emotional … told me not to stop the car. Chelsea and Ryan were in the back seat fighting, so they never knew anything about it. We just kept driving. Never saw you or anything.”

  “Hmm. I hope this is the right thing…”

  “We’re doing good, Rose. Baby steps,” he said, then repeated, “baby steps.”

  He’d told her that he was going to find a way to bring them together and that he would contact her by phone or email. Those were his words: “bring you together.” What a miracle, running into Tom, purely by chance, and discovering that he didn’t hate her. She thought he actually might like her, which seemed impossible. Running into him was probably the best thing that could have happened.

  When they parted, he even gave her a hug.

  It was hard to believe that was only yesterday. Just under nineteen hours, she calculated, since she’d left that Mexican restaurant, gone to her car, and sat shaking for half an hour, tears and sweat commingling as they rolled down her face.

  Nineteen hours.

  She shook her head in disbelief. The passage of time healed wounds. That’s what people always said, right? It was nice, as sayings go … it just wasn’t always true. On a global scale of thousands or millions of years, yes, it might be true, but it wasn’t necessarily the truth in one person’s life.

  In her experience, time could be a vulture that circled your dying carcass and picked at it until there was nothing in this world that could save your shredded corpse except the healing hands of God himself.

  But, she felt different this time…

  Here she was, today, awake and pacing the room at seven in the morning. Her phone didn’t have any missed calls and the signal strength was four of four bars. Email and Facebook were open on her laptop, but there weren’t any new emails or notifications.

  She decided to hit the hotel’s breakfast buffet.

  Pancakes, sausage, and eggs populated one end of the buffet table, while cereals, fruits, and juices were at the other. She loaded her plate with the hot stuff, and syrup, and sat down. Set her cell phone down next to her plate. Now food, on the other hand, actually could heal all wounds, but only temporarily.

  She grabbed her fork and initiated some healing.

  As she mopped up the last of the syrup with a combo bite of eggs and sausage, her cell phone vibrated with a new text, and she jumped. She clicked on the read button…

  Rose, I spoke to Mary Beth. Come by at 10:00 a.m. Everything will be okay. - Tom

  <<>>

  Rose walked up the sidewalk to the Connors’ front door. The two or so hours between breakfast and this moment had seemed to take forever. She had brushed her teeth, debated on outfits, and paced her room. Checked and rechecked Facebook. Rehearsed opening lines.

  Mary Beth, I’m so sorry…

  Please forgive me, Mary Beth…

  But nothing seemed good enough. How could words adequately make up for the decades of absence? They couldn’t. It was that simple. She could only hope for her daughter’s open heart and mind. The elusive beast named “forgiveness”.

  Then, three minutes later, time caught up with itself, and she put the Taurus in par
k outside of Mary Beth’s home. She stepped out of the car on wobbly legs that felt like they belonged to someone else, and somehow started walking. Her activities of the previous two hours were nothing, gone, flotsam floating away on the currents.

  She inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.

  “Hello, Rose.” Tom opened the door. She searched his face for a sign, and his friendly blue eyes answered hers and he smiled. “Come on in. We’re in the living room.”

  “Okay.”

  She swayed a little bit in the doorway and he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. Steadied her. Whispered, “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Right,” she replied, trying to be strong. “Right.”

  They shuffled through the foyer, passing a dining room on the right. Family pictures and cherry wood furniture greeted her, and her head spun a little, but she kept walking. Another few paces, and they turned left.

  They were standing under a broad archway that bordered one room, or two, depending on your perspective, since it was an open floor plan. The kitchen was off to the right. A long granite countertop with four stools formed a natural border. Rose’s eyes lingered on the stools … she could imagine Mary Beth cooking while her kids sat drinking those little juice boxes that kids always had these days.

  We didn’t have juice boxes when I was a kid, she thought mechanically.

  She looked to the left and saw couches, a flat-screen television, and a coffee table; it was obviously the living room. She sort of halfway registered the high ceilings, the feeling of vast and open space, as her eyes fell on her daughter.

  She paused, her nerves on fire. Her face felt like someone had taken Icy Hot and applied some to her cheeks and forehead. The skin was hot, the flesh tingling.

  “Have a seat, Rose,” Tom said, giving her a gentle push into the chair next to Mary Beth, while he sat down beside his wife and took one of her hands in both of his. Rose’s eyes darted between her daughter, Tom, and her lap. She felt the sweat in her clasped hands, but could do nothing to stop it despite the cool air in their home.

  Stealing glances of her daughter’s face, Rose didn’t find the hatred she thought she might see. The anger of the teenager she’d spoken to briefly fifteen years earlier was nowhere to be found. As a matter of fact, Rose thought Mary Beth looked … nervous?

  Of course, they looked like each other, nothing so close as twins, but it was easy to see the mother-daughter connection. Only, she’s far more beautiful than me…

  It didn’t seem possible, but she did look nervous. She has nothing to be nervous about! Rose thought. I was the bad mother—she shouldn’t be nervous, or hurt—I should be the one suffering. As she considered these things internally, she glanced again at Tom, then down at her hands. It dawned on her that they were redefining the term awkward silence. She glanced again to Tom, who caught her attention and gave her a small nod. She gave an almost imperceptible nod back to him.

  His encouragement took root inside of her. She glanced down once more, took a deep breath…

  “I’m so sorry,” Rose began, slowly; she was afraid she would lose control of her emotions. “I was wrong … selfish … so stupid.” Tears threatened. Eyes got watery. Don’t lose it, not yet, she told herself. Her body shuddered as she inhaled and continued on.

  “I was an addict,” she said quietly, eyes downcast. The memories welled up inside, and she hated herself. The ugliness—a mother who would give up her only child—turned her stomach sour. But, this wasn’t any television show—it was her life.

  “I let it ruin the best part of my life. I was the worst kind of mother, to give up my own daughter. But … if you just, please, let me back into your life, I will spend every day making it up to you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Mary Beth, eyes misting over, didn’t say anything in reply, but sat completely still, quiet, hands bunched up in her lap. Compelled by some strange, internal impulsive signal, Rose slid from her chair and got down on her knees in front of Mary Beth. Still crying, she placed both of her hands on top of her daughter’s closed hands.

  For several seconds, no one moved, and the room was quiet. The sound of a neighborhood dog barking was the only sound. Tom had one arm around his wife, gently hugging her. Rose didn’t know what to do.

  “Please,” she begged in a hoarse whisper.

  Another moment passed, and just when Rose thought her heart would surely break, she felt her daughter’s hands move beneath her own. The fingers hesitated, uncurled slowly, and turned palm upward. Mary Beth’s open hands found her mother’s, and they slowly interlocked.

  The three people slowly morphed from three adults representing two families into a single entity, hugging, as their reconciliation process began.

  “This is going to take time,” Mary Beth eventually said, when they all separated.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know how long. I have a lot to get used to, and a lot to get over. And I can’t make any promises.”

  “Of course.” Rose nodded. She wasn’t used to being submissive, but in this situation, she adapted quickly, and it came naturally.

  “And, I don’t even—” she started, then bit her fingernail and winced.

  “What is it?” Rose asked.

  “It’s just that, I don’t even know what to call you. We don’t even really know each other anymore.”

  It stung Rose’s heart to hear her daughter say that. In life, the truth is often painful. She would just have to win her over.

  “Maybe just call me Rose, for now?”

  Mary Beth considered her for a long moment. “Okay … okay.”

  <<>>

  The remainder of Rose’s two weeks in Fredericksburg disappeared faster than marijuana in a Colorado vending machine.

  Tom was a good shepherd; he tended his flock well and true. His intuition told him that his ladies would need his help, so he coordinated a short-notice vacation, and made himself available to them.

  There were several periods of silence the first two days. Awkward. Weighty. An absence of sound both unwieldy and uncomfortable. When it happened, the chasm of quiet was like entering a black hole in the universe, some strange void: The Twilight Zone.

  Tom saw it coming, but was powerless to stop it, at least at first. He simply didn’t have any experience with a situation like this. And who does? He studied those two women, took notes, and came up with some plays.

  Tried to jump-start conversation by talking about this or that.

  Made tea and announced loudly that it was ready.

  Grabbed photo albums and guided them down memory lane.

  His efforts gradually paid off. Rose and Mary Beth started initiating their own conversations. Tom saw that they were showing cautious interest in one another. It tickled him to see his wife overcoming the invasive shadow in an otherwise sunbathed life.

  Rose couldn’t recall a happier moment in her life than when Chelsea and Ryan hugged her for the first time … even if they didn’t know she was their grandmother.

  “Hey guys, we have someone for you to meet,” Tom had said.

  “This is, uhh … Rose,” Mary Beth added. The kids thought she said Aunt Rose.

  “Aunt Rose?” asked Ryan. Nobody answered.

  “Hi Aunt Rose,” Chelsea said and hugged her. Ryan followed suit.

  Nobody bothered correcting them; for now she would be Aunt Rose. Holding those little bodies, when she hugged them for the first time, was a visit to heaven. The ghosts of everything she’d been missing flashed through her mind. She vowed to herself that she would do everything she could to get her daughter back.

  Chapter 23

  Paul, Jennifer, and Jennifer’s New Friend

  “Okay, now, let’s move into the Dolphin … hands and knees on the floor, like this…” the yoga instructor called out softly. “Then lift your knees up, slowly up, and away from the floor. Straighten out your knees … move to your forearms.”

  There were twelve women in the cla
ss, going through the various positions for a core workout. Jennifer knew the regulars, but they had a newbie today—a fifty-something woman—who was struggling a little bit.

  “And let’s move on to a plank.” The instructor walked her feet back until her torso was near the floor. “Don’t forget to keep your body parallel to the floor. You can poke your butt up, if you need to, though.”

  Everyone in the class followed her lead.

  “First time?” Jennifer asked the new lady.

  “Third,” she replied with a laugh.

  “You’re doing well … keep it up!”

  “Thanks. I just found out my daughter is really into yoga, so I thought I’d give it a try. Might have been a bad decision.”

  “Now for our final pose, let’s do the Cat,” the instructor cut in. “Knees down, bring your hands back a little bit, and arch your backs gently, just like the Halloween cats you see on the posters, get your hackles up…”

  Soon, arched bodies filled the room.

  “I guess I thought yoga might be something that could help bring us closer, you know?” she continued.

  “That’s so nice!” Jennifer said.

  “Well…” she began and her smile faltered a little bit. “I need to make up for not being around when she was younger. It’s the least I can do.”

  “But you’re doing something—that’s what counts.”

  “I hope so,” Rose replied. “Ouch, what happened to your eye?”

  Jennifer touched the top of her right cheekbone, which was bruised and a little puffy, and still tender to the touch. “This? Oh, it’s nothing. I was moving stuff around in my closet and some boots fell. They hit me right in the face, go figure, right?” She dropped her hand and quickly changed the subject. “So … are you staying for the aerobics class?”

  “Oh, I didn’t know there was one, umm, but if you thought this looked like my first time…”

  “Ah, come on, give it a try. Nobody’s gonna laugh,” Jennifer said with a chuckle. “At least not out loud.”