“You’ve forgiven him, haven’t you?”
Thomas looked inside himself. He was still angry and filled with unspeakable pain. Patricia’s death would always be an empty space inside him, an empty space in a world that had needed her sweetness, her gentleness. But Garnet’s question had been a different one.
“I’ve forgiven him,” Thomas said, and knew, deep in his heart, that he was telling the truth.
She stared at him, and tears glazed her eyes. She saw a man in conflict. A good man, heroic in all ways.
Except one.
“So, that makes you better than God, doesn’t it?” She opened the door and picked up her suitcases.
He was so filled with emotions, a spectrum of emotions, that he could hardly speak. He clamped his hand on her shoulder to stop her. “What in the hell does that mean?” he asked softly, fiercely.
She turned back to look at him. “You can forgive Andre, but you don’t believe God can forgive you. That makes you better than Him, doesn’t it? You always said you were arrogant. I just never understood how far it reached.”
He dropped his hand. She saw powerful emotions cross his face. Then she saw nothing more of him at all. She found her way to the stairs and left the building.
15
Sometime on the Wednesday before Easter, the homeless man broke into the church again. In the morning when Thomas walked through on his way to a meeting, he found him standing in front of Ferdinand’s mural.
The mural was illuminated by springtime sunshine. In the strong light the old man looked dirtier and more destitute. “Do you like this better than you like the picture in front?” Thomas asked, crossing to stand beside him.
“Still don’t understand what you’re doin’ here in the Corners.”
Thomas crossed his arms. “I’ve asked myself that a time or two.”
“Who asked you to come here, anyway?”
Thomas contemplated that question. “I think I came here because I needed what the Corners could give me.”
The old man humphed. “No one needs this place.”
“I did,” Thomas said.
“You’re as crazy as the person who painted that.”
“I hope so.” Thomas smiled at his uninvited guest. “I know you don’t take charity, but we have sharing suppers on Wednesday night—”
“You told me that last time.”
“I know. But I’m hoping that this time you’ll join us. You’ve lived on these streets for a long time. I think there are things you could tell us about it.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “What things?”
“First and most of all, what needs to be done for the Corners, I guess. You’d know better than anyone.”
“I’m just a sick old man who drinks himself blind every night. Remember?”
“Has that changed?”
The old man didn’t answer.
“At one time I drank myself blind every night, too. And even when I stopped drinking, I was still blind. Then one day I was lucky enough to have someone open my eyes.”
The old man spat on the floor Thomas had swept the night before. “God?” he said.
“No. A woman. But she opened my eyes so I could see God again.”
“Doesn’t sound like any woman I’ve ever heard of.”
Thomas didn’t know how to respond to that. Garnet was not like anyone else in the world. But the world was filled with people who cared enough about each other to stretch out a hand when a hand was needed.
She had taught him that.
It was time to tell her. At that moment, after months of waiting and praying, after surges of hope and lapses into doubt, after the gray, remorseful weeks of Lent, he knew it was finally time.
“Sunday is Easter,” he said. “It’s a time of new beginnings. Come join us. You’re always welcome here, even when the door isn’t locked.”
The old man chuckled. Thomas hadn’t thought it was possible. But in the last months he had come to believe in the impossible. Nowadays he called it faith.
The rubber band pinged off the side of the wastepaper basket and fell to the floor.
“You’ve really lost your touch.” Tex dropped a file on Garnet’s desk. “You should have retired a winner.”
“Long, long day.” Garnet stood and stretched. “And I just got a call. Mary Ann had her baby.”
“So what’s the verdict?”
“A boy, almost six pounds. A seven on the Apgar scale. No obvious signs of addiction, but they’ve put him under constant watch for the next forty-eight hours.”
“I think Mary Ann cleaned up her act toward the end.”
“She says she did, but we’ll know better in a day or so, I guess.”
Tex folded her arms. “We’ve got four free days coming up. What’s planned for the weekend?”
Garnet tapped her fingernails on her desk. “You don’t have to take care of me. I’ll be fine. It’s just a long weekend.”
“It’s Easter. Come over for dinner on Sunday. Finn’s going to smoke a leg of lamb.”
“Can I let you know?”
“Can I give you some advice?”
Garnet stopped tapping. “Since when did you need permission?”
“Don’t spend the holiday alone. Get out and see people.”
“Do what? Go to church services? Did you know that Thomas is slaying dragons again? He and the other local pastors are sponsoring a sunrise service at Kensington Park. They’re going to take over the park because the city refuses to, plant flowers, pick up litter, trim shrubs—”
“I’ll expect you for dinner. Three o’clock sharp.”
Garnet sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“And no excuses.” Tex gave her a hug before she left the room.
Garnet stared after her. She knew that in the months since Christmas she hadn’t been herself. She had done her job, gone through the motions of keeping in touch with her friends, but she had craved silence and space to lick her wounds. Tex, and others who cared about her, were tired of standing back. They wanted her to feel better, to be the old Garnet.
She wasn’t that woman anymore. That Garnet hadn’t expected or wanted anything from the world, and every good thing that had come along had been a surprise and a pleasure. Then something had come along that she had wanted, and her life had changed.
But not for the better.
The day had been long; she knew she could make it longer. There was always more work to do and no one to stop her from doing it. But more work wasn’t an antidote for what she was feeling, which was why she had agreed to close the clinic from Friday through Monday. Everyone on staff needed a break, and all the physicians were going out of town, anyway. Maybe Tex was right. Maybe what she needed was to call a friend and go out for the evening.
Halfway up the stairs to her apartment she knew she wasn’t going to bother. She wanted to spend another evening alone, with her familiar possessions, her music. She would make dinner and read the novel she’d bought last week. And she wouldn’t let herself think about Thomas. Because in the months since Christmas, Thomas obviously hadn’t been thinking about her.
In the hall outside Serena’s apartment she paused and considered knocking. But the apartment was quiet, which meant Serena and Chantelle probably weren’t there. Lately a young man from the neighborhood—a young man with definite possibilities—had been showing up a lot to take Serena and the baby out for the evening. Serena just smiled when Garnet asked about him. She wasn’t getting serious about anybody, she claimed, not until she was finished with school. The young man in question was just coming to see Chantelle.
Inside her apartment Garnet promised herself a good dinner. For too long making complicated meals had reminded her of evenings with Thomas. Evenings had been the best part of their days together, quiet, intimate times when they had worked side by side and talked about their jobs. Tonight she would cook something special, and she wouldn’t remember those nights and the hope that had stirred in her heart with each brus
h of a hip, each quiet laugh, each warmly assessing look.
She had already prepared the sauce and grated two kinds of cheese for lasagna when there was a knock at her door. She didn’t even jump at the sound. Nowadays she was in no more danger than anyone else living in the Corners. No longer was she marked for retribution.
The Coroners and the MidKnights hadn’t suddenly become buddies; that might be asking the impossible. But a truce of sorts was in force. Until another Demon came along to stir up trouble, they coexisted warily. Candy and Francis came and went freely now. Andre was working at a center for the elderly and studying for his G.E.D. so he could start community college in the fall. Rumor had it that Thomas had been successful in having the gangs meet together at the church to discuss their differences.
Rumor was her only source of information about Thomas.
She washed her hands before she answered the door. The apartment smelled like garlic and herbs, and her favorite tape of Billie Holiday songs was resonating from her new stereo. Quite possibly she was on the up side of down now. Quite possibly she was going to put Thomas out of her life.
Four seconds of staring at Thomas, who was standing on the threshold, proved just how wrong one person could be.
“You look well,” he said.
“What did you expect? Weight loss? Weight gain? Scars on my wrists?” She stepped back so he could come in if he wanted.
“It smells like I’m interrupting dinner.”
“Not yet.”
“I could come back another time.”
“But the question is, would you bother?” She gestured toward the apartment. “Come in. Or the hall’s going to smell like garlic.”
“It already does.” He stepped inside. The apartment was hardly the same sad place he recalled from his last visit. Then it had been a burned-out shell, and most of her belongings had been damaged by water or smoke. Now there were no signs that anything had ever been wrong here. The paint was fresh and the carpet new. Garnet’s possessions, an eclectic mixture of things she had brought to his apartment and new purchases, were tastefully arranged to fill the room.
Why, then, did something seem out of order? He took another moment to scan the room, even though he knew Garnet was watching him. The apartment was pleasant, tidy and... dull.
For the first moment in a long, long time he wondered if things were really going to be all right, if they were finally, irrevocably going to be all right.
“What’s wrong, Padre? Doesn’t it meet with your approval? Think I should have put the sofa where the stereo is? I was still a little gun-shy there for a while. I kept thinking someone might use the back of my head for target practice if I sat too close to a window.”
“Padre again? I’ve been a lot of things, Garnet. But never your father.”
“True. You were around longer than he was. Not much longer, but longer.” She gestured to the kitchen. “Want something to drink? I’ve got mineral water, juice—”
“This place doesn’t look like it belongs to you.”
“I’ll have to talk to my decorator.”
“There should be plants, funny little things on the shelves, a stuffed giraffe in the corner.”
“My ceilings would have to be taller.”
He swept the room with his hand. “The woman I knew wouldn’t be happy living here.”
“The woman you knew? I don’t know who that is, Thomas. But the woman who moved back in here is satisfied with things the way they are.”
“Is she? The man you knew isn’t.”
She looked away. “Feel free to take a seat. I’ve only put in a ten-hour day, and I’m in the middle of making dinner.”
“At least the sense of humor hasn’t changed.”
She felt herself go cold with anger. Icy, aching cold. “Don’t you think so? Well, who the hell are you to worry about it? You find this situation humorous? I don’t. Not one little bit. Why are you even here? One of your pastoral calls? Haven’t I been at church often enough for you?”
“You haven’t been at church at all.”
“And that’s the way it’s going to stay. If I want church on a Sunday, I’ll visit St. Michael’s or Second Baptist or the temple at the end of Wilford.”
“Better try the temple on a Saturday or you’ll be disappointed.”
She stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Right now I’m trying to warm you up a little.”
She couldn’t believe him. This was not the Thomas she had known. His blue eyes were sympathetic as they searched for clues to her feelings. He looked both tormented and confident, a combination no one else could have managed. The torment? She couldn’t speak for its source, but the confidence was easier to pinpoint. It seemed to exude from him, to be a very part of his being.
“Why?” she asked. “Why do you care whether I’m warm or cold as a glacier? Why should it matter to you? You’re here to talk about a divorce, aren’t you? You’re too considerate to have me served with papers without a warning.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“I’m a little tired of guessing games.”
“May I sit down? Or would it really be better if I came back later?”
She sighed. “Sit.”
He sprawled at the edge of her new sofa. It was something she’d bought without much thought. She’d needed a place to sit. The sofa had been in the front of the first and only furniture store she’d visited, which had cinched the decision for her. Now she noticed that it was too low to the ground and narrow. Thomas made it look as if it had been designed for a children’s playhouse.
“Will you sit, too?”
Reluctantly she chose to sit beside him. The only other seat had been placed so far away that sitting there would look as if she was afraid of him. And fear was one of the few emotions she wasn’t experiencing.
“I don’t know how to start,” he said.
“Then I guess this is going to be a long evening.”
“Make this a little easier for me. Be polite.” He softened his words with a smile that cut heavily into her defenses.
She leaned back and settled in a little. “I’m sorry." She shrugged. "I’m listening.”
“I’ve wanted to see you for months now. I’ve wanted to talk to you every day since you left.”
“You know where I live.”
“I’ve been afraid I’d get here and do what I’m doing now.”
“Ramble? Avoid the issues?”
He smiled again; then he leaned back, too, and slipped his arm along the back of the sofa. He wasn’t touching her, but he was closer. Their positions were almost intimate.
She felt herself respond. Her analysis of it was clinical. Her heart beat faster; her temperature rose. Her immune system refused to cooperate with her brain and reject the foreign body beside her. She still wanted Thomas. God help her, despite the most crushing rejection, she still undeniably wanted him.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking since you left,” he said. “I’ve had lots of time. I never knew an apartment could feel so empty.”
She knew just how empty an apartment could feel. She gave a noncommittal nod.
“Do you remember the last thing you said to me?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You told me I thought I was better than God, because I could forgive Andre, but I didn’t believe God could forgive me. I felt like you’d slugged me in the gut.”
“If you’ve come for an apology, I'll say I'm sorry. I had no right.”
“Don’t be sorry. You changed my life.” He wanted to touch her hair. It was restrained in a tight braid, as restrained as her apartment, as the tight line of her mouth. He wanted to release her hair, to see it fall over the back of the sofa and bounce against her shoulders, to send its electric tendrils curling around his fingers.
Garnet wanted to demand that he get to the point, but she knew how revealing that would be. She had already revealed far too much emotion. She waited, and the atmosphere in the room grew more charged.
“You were right,” he said at last. “You made me face the truth. I never lost my faith in God, but I believed God had lost His faith in me. If I, with all my sins, all my fallibility, could forgive Andre, then surely God, the infallible, could forgive me. But in my arrogance, I believed that my sins were too terrible for God to forgive. I’d failed to be a god myself, but I still thought I was above God’s forgiveness. So I shut Him out of my life.”
Despite all her efforts, she was moved by the expression in his eyes, an expression almost of wonder. “And that’s changed?”
“Yes.” He smiled again, such a different smile than she remembered, but somehow a hundred times more captivating. She could feel more of her defenses being whittled away. Quite obviously this war was to be won with smiles and warm, sensitive looks.
She looked away, but the damage was already done. “I’m glad for you, Thomas.”
“You’ve given me back my life,” he said.
“No, I didn’t give you anything. I was angry. I wanted to hurt you. That’s all.”
He touched her shoulder. She couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer. “You gave me back my life. You were the only person who would stand up to me and make me face the truth. Not only because you were angry. Because you saw my arrogance, and you cared enough to make me see it, too.”
“However it happened, I'm glad for you.”
As the rest of her defenses crumbled, she faced the fact that she had never stopped loving him, never stopped caring what happened to him. Despite what she knew was coming, a divorce, a complete and final severing of all their ties, she could not protect herself from loving him.
“I’d lost the most essential part of myself, Garnet. It’s taken months to put it in perspective.”
Months when he hadn’t called her or come to see her. She was happy for him, genuinely happy, but she knew that those months were proof that she, Garnet Anthony Stonehill, had never really mattered to him. If she had mattered, he would have come to her sooner and shared his battle with her.
She told herself that the final thing she could do for him was to make this easy. "Now you want to get on with your life. Both of us deserve that much. Our marriage was never intended to be real. I was upset when I left, but afterward I realized I’d never thanked you for what you’d done for me. Maybe it didn’t turn out exactly the way either of us planned, but you tried to protect me. And that was the reason you married me.”
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