by Sara Evans
Cara laughed. “Seal? With Bradley Richardson? Are you kidding? He’d block that motion before you could say hut one, hut two. This is a civil case, Max, come on, and there’s nothing confidential enough for a seal. We won’t get a sealed ruling. What we can do is pull a few strings and get this worked out in chambers rather than open court.”
“And Bradley will be pulling a few strings to have the proceeding on the courthouse lawn with Channel 9 filming.” He’d seen Bradley do it dozens of times.
“I have to tell you, Max, he practically sang your list of faults. Add music and he could’ve played on Broadway. He wants this in the public eye.”
Max rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers. Sleep had not been his friend the last few nights. “I just want this to be over.”
“I’m going to talk to Judge Howard today, see if she’ll go ahead and grant custody to you. She’s pro fathers, so we’ll win this one. But, Max, how far do you want to go?” Cara sat forward, resting her arms on her knees. “The McClures are offering nothing. Not even visitation. I countered Bradley with, ‘No way.’”
“No way? That’s your brilliant rebuttal? Did he cave right away or did you have to repeat yourself?”
“Don’t get smart with me. I’m on your team.”
He growled, then gave her a soft gaze. “I’m sorry, Cara. Just upset, that’s all. How far should we go? I want my son. Do what it takes.” Overriding the grief in Gus and Lorelai’s eyes was the vulnerability and innocence of one small, towheaded boy. Max needed to protect and love his son.
“We’ll win this, Max, but are you prepared for all your problems to come to public light?” Cara’s steel glare drove the words home. “Because they will. You need to be forming answers as to why you didn’t meet Asa for the first time until he was nineteen months old. Even with a father-friendly judge, that’s a hard sell, child support payments aside. You need to be prepared to explain your drug problem. Max, you’re my friend and colleague. I support you, you know that, but when the facts are laid out, you’re not the ideal dad. The McClures, on the other hand, appear to be Santa and Mrs. Claus with the Easter Bunny thrown in. By the way, you should consider hiring an investigator.”
Max stood, sending his chair into the bookcase behind his desk. He needed to pace and think. All his problems . . . Wish he’d known this day was coming twenty years ago when he popped his first pain med. And an investigator? On the McClures?
“Barely getting started, and already we’re hiring investigators?”
“You don’t think Bradley is giving the McClures the same advice? And the court will order one, so we might as well have our own man on the team.”
“Cara, let’s just play it straight.” Max faced her, hands on his belt. “The facts of the case are this: One, I’m his father. The paternity test can be entered into evidence. Two, I’m on his birth certificate. Three, I paid child support. All evidence. We argue I wasn’t involved in Asa’s life because Rice preferred to raise him alone and our residences were two thousand miles apart.”
“The McClures are named in the will?”
“If I’m unwilling. But I’m willing.” Max smacked his chest. “And able.”
“Bradley will argue willing but incompetent. And abandonment. I can hear him now. ‘What, you didn’t hop on that fancy plane Benson Law owns and fly out to see your son? My, my, my.’” Cara made an ugly face. “Frankly, it’s a great argument.”
“The McClures are almost seventy, Cara. They can’t raise Asa. He needs parents who can teach him to play catch, attend his high school graduation, see him through college, attend his wedding.”
“People live long today, Max. It’s conceivable the McClures will attend Asa’s wedding and—”
“Without a cane. Or false teeth.”
“False teeth and walking canes hardly paint the picture of incompetence. Bradley will subpoena your mom. Probably Jade. What’s up with you two anyway? Is she coming home?”
“Eventually.” He hoped. What a mess. “Be honest with me, Cara. Am I fit to be Asa’s father?”
Her brown eyes held on to his face for a long, painful moment. “If you’d have asked me a few weeks ago, I’d have said no. You’re selfish, Max. Driven, ambitious, focused until something knocks you off the path and you topple headlong into something stupid like addiction. I never have figured that out about you. But with Jade, I saw you overcoming. I saw her bringing out the best in you. She’s a good partner. You need her to help you win this, Max.”
Well, he’d asked.
“But,” Cara said, standing, “I can see how much you love this boy and want to do what’s right.” She approached Max. “To answer your question, if you act like the man I know you to be, you will be an amazing father.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Keep away from the pills, Max. Haven’t they caused enough havoc? Now, let’s do some digging on the McClures, see what’s swept under their rug.”
“I’m not an addict, Cara.” His eyes stayed fixed on her as she lowered her hands. “I have doctor-prescribed Percocet. For back pain.”
“Ever doctor shop, Max? Ever take more than the prescribed dosage? Ever been to rehab? Ever lie to Tripp Bunn, your counselor?”
Each question hammered his chest. Nails in a coffin. His. If he testified— and what father worth his salt wouldn’t testify in his own son’s custody case?— Bradley would ask the same questions and Max would have to answer yes to each one. What a stellar man he’d become.
Seventeen
“Mama, how are you feeling?” Jade opened the blinds to let in the afternoon light. The March snow melted by mid-morning, and a spring balm glossed the day. For the first time since Rice died, Jade had slept through the night. It was good to be home.
“Jade-o, you made it.” Mama reclined against a pile of pillows June had packed behind her back.
“You were asleep when I got in.” Jade sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hand over Mama’s forehead. “Dr. Meadows is seeing you Thursday.”
“That old coot? He’s just going to say I’m dying. He took me off the road, cost me my job at Midwest.”
“He wanted to keep you and the rest of the traveling population safe.” Jade straightened the blankets around Mama. She studied her eyes for a minute. “Didn’t you hitchhike once?”
“Once? Many times. Many times.”
“Why did you do it? Hitchhike?” Jade pictured the girl in Paducah.
“To get from one town to another.” Mama smiled. “Why do you think, Jade? For adventure.”
“Did you travel alone? With friends?”
“Both. Jade, why are you asking?” Mama coughed, lurching forward, holding her sides. The fluid in her chest rattled against her ribs.
Jade crawled over her to the center of the bed, holding Mama’s shoulders and rubbing her back. When the cough subsided, Jade held her water glass to her lips.
“The hitchhiker in Paducah impacted me in some crazy way.”
“The hitchhiker in Paducah?”
“Yeah, the girl on the northbound ramp. She had blonde hair, a bandana, bell bottoms, army jacket.” Jade set the glass on the nightstand. “Didn’t you see her when you drove by in the rental car?”
“No hitchhiker that I could see.” Mama puckered her lips. “I used to wear Paps’s fatigues, carry his duffel bag. Even wore a bandana for years.”
“She was on the right side . . .” Wasn’t she? Yes, Jade saw her. She. Saw. Her.
“Maybe it was me forty years ago.” Mama laughed softly, tapping her chest. “I might have gone through Paducah once. I remember going to Kentucky for a concert.”
Chills gripped Jade’s skin. She and Mama were caught on life’s timeline; God was not. If He wanted to show Jade something . . .
“But those were some wild, crazy days.” Mama rolled her head gently, side to side. “Literally the blurry years.”
“When I saw her, it reminded me of that snowy day we went sledding in Newton and picked up Ryan on the side of 117.” Jad
e tucked the image of the hitchhiker away in the treasure box with memories and snuggled next to Mama.
“Oh, Jade-o, when did we do that? I don’t remember picking up Ryan on the side of the road. Aiden’s friend, Ryan?”
“It was a long time ago.” Jade often had different memories than Mama. “The hitchhiker made me think of you.” Tears burned in the corners of Jade’s eyes. “I’m sorry I hated you for so many years.”
“I’m sorry I made you hate me.” Mama fished for Jade’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I somehow believed I was a better mama for you kids by following my heart.”
“Then tell me. What should I do about Max?” Jade suddenly craved her wisdom. “What would you do?”
“You can’t do what I would do, Jade-o. I’ve always been the kite in the breeze like Willow. You’re the solid, stable, rooted one. Like your dad.”
“I don’t feel so stable.” Jade cradled her head deeper into Mama’s shoulder. In fact, she felt very uprooted. Mama’s hand felt soft and tender when she touched Jade’s cheek.
“You have to live and let live, Jade-o. Don’t cling so tightly.”
But how could she not? Her soul constantly searched for the ground, the soft soil, a place to dig in deep. “What did you mean when you said to Max, ‘Thanks for last night’?”
“Oh, he just spent the evening with me, picked up dinner from Mae’s, brought me my ginger tea.”
Jade brushed the trickle of tears from her cheek. “He’s so confounding. Sweet and kind, so loving, then whap, he’s a lying cheater.”
“The answer’s already in your heart. Search. You’ll find it. You’re so strong and capable, Jade. Don’t be afraid.”
“That’s just it, Mama, I’m always a little bit afraid.”
“Jade?” The bedroom door hinges squeaked. “Sugar, you awake?”
“I’m sleeping.” Light from the hall cut a triangle in the darkness. Jade burrowed her face into her pillow.
“Jade, shug, it’s me, June.” She snapped on the bedside lamp and shook Jade’s shoulder. “Darling, we have to take Beryl to the hospital.”
Jade shot up, her hair fringing her face. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s burning up, darling. Soaked right through her nightgown to the sheet. Her breathing is shallow. I think it’s pneumonia.”
“What time is it?” Jade scrambled from the bed, turning in circles, grasping for her bearings. Jeans, yes, she needed her jeans. She tugged them on over her pajamas. Where was her sweatshirt? Aiming for the closet, she ran into the wall. Growling, she hammered it three times. “Who put this here?”
“The builder, I believe.” June steered her to the closet. “Is this what you want?”
Jade tugged her sweatshirt from the top shelf. “Is she awake?”
“Not really. She stirs and mumbles occasionally.”
“What made you check on her?” Shoes, the cold floor reminded her she needed shoes. And socks.
“I woke up a little after three to go to the bathroom and heard Beryl moaning, thrashing around. Should we call an ambulance?”
“I can take her in Paps’s truck. It’ll be faster.” Jade dropped to her knees, searching for her shoes. “Can you get Mama ready while I bring the truck around?” What would the morning have looked like if June hadn’t checked on Mama?
“I’m going with you.” June darted out the door.
“No, June, I’ll need the whole seat to lay Mama down.” Jade tied on her sneakers. Forget socks. No time. Jade stumbled across the hall to the bathroom and scooped her hair back into a ponytail. She splashed her face with cold water, trying to douse the hovering fog.
Down the stairs, Jade grabbed her jacket from the back of the kitchen chair and the truck keys from the hook by the door, where they always stayed.
The dark morning was still with an icy thickness. Jade walked, then jogged toward the barn. She wasn’t ready for Mama to die. Not when there was treasure yet to be discovered.
The engine rattled when she fired up the truck. The gears whined and the brakes squealed as Jade drove toward the back porch. Leaving the engine idling with the heater blowing, she popped loose the passenger door and ran inside.
June met her in the upstairs hall. “I put a fresh nightgown on her, her coat, socks, and a hat.”
“Mama?” Jade approached Mama’s side of the bed. She was so frail and small, pale and glistening with perspiration. “Mama?”
No answer.
Scooping Mama into her arms was all too easy. Her bones were discernible beneath her gown.
“Let me go along.” June followed Jade down the stairs with an armload of blankets. “I can hold Beryl.”
“June, please, stay here, man the phone.” Jade cuddled Mama close as she exited the back door, careful not to bump her head or feet. Her heart and mind were awake, beating and thinking.
“She’s going to be all right,” June said, tucking the blankets around Mama as Jade settled her in the truck. “I know it.”
“You don’t know that, June.” Jade clapped Mama’s door closed and walked around to the driver’s side.
“I guess I don’t, but I’ll be praying. I’ll call the prayer team at church back home, get them praying.”
Jade held on to her door for a moment, then stepped back, falling into June’s arms. June hesitated, then tightened her arms around Jade’s back, whispering, “Dear Jesus, dear Jesus.”
As Jade fired out of the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel, Mama moaned. Jade reached over and pressed her arm. “Stay with me, Mama. Stay with me.”
The truck shimmied as Jade urged the speedometer toward eighty, flying west on route 163, gripping the wheel for control, the high beams slicing through the darkness.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
Jade dropped to her knees before the gold cross perched on the wooden table of the hospital chapel. A prism of colors reflected off the gold and cascaded over the Communion table and onto the floor.
A man-made light burnt through the stained glass suspended from the ceiling behind the cross. The image captured Jade. The juxtaposition of God’s work and man’s.
Jade spoke to the Light she knew to be real. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.
After four hours of waiting, uncomfortable in the molded plastic chairs and subzero temperature of the ER, the attending doctor finally admitted Mama.
He had to wake up Dr. Meadows for a consult, not knowing exactly what was wrong with her or how to treat her. Too much education can dull an otherwise great mind.
Now, three floors up, Mama slept semipeacefully in her room hooked to an IV, antibiotics pumping into her system.
Jade had e-mailed an update to Aiden and Willow, asking them to come. Immediately. It would take both of them several days to make travel arrangements from Guatemala and Alaska.
Then she wandered the hospital halls until she found the chapel. Jade stretched prostrate before the altar, sipping on an odd cocktail of loneliness and anxiety. Her skin twitched. Her head buzzed. Her heart hurt. She’d spent so many years angry at her mama only to discover her uniqueness at the untimely end of her life.
First grade . . . Jade remembered the long plank-walk down the gravel driveway to the bus stop. She’d stopped at the edge of the gravel and glanced back at Mama, who stood on the porch with her coffee, watching.
If Aiden hadn’t been holding on to her hand, Jade would’ve run back to the house, crying, and buried her face against Mama’s jeans.
Jade pounded her fist on the chapel floor. “God, I’m not ready to lose her.” Too tired to weep, Jade’s heart was soggy with emotion.
From the chairs, her phone beeped. It had been beeping for the past hour, so Jade pushed herself up to her knees and crawled toward her purse. It was probably June messaging to find out what was going on.
Lillabeth had also texted a dozen updates on the eight hundred dollars she spent on the Johnson City estate. She was quite proud of her purchases.
Jade replied: Ya done good
.
There were messages from Daphne and Margot, checking in. One from Tom at Benson Law with an update on the Blue Two insurance debacle. Looked like arbitration was in the future. Another from Kip informing Jade he could not start working until he had money.
And three voice messages from Max.
“Jade, come on, call me back, this is stupid—” Delete.
“I need to give you the latest on Asa—” Delete.
“Jade, this is important—” Delete.
She’d asked for space. What did his lawyer-mind not grasp about that concept? Life didn’t always revolve around him, surprise, surprise. Couldn’t Max just grow up and see that?
From the back of the chapel, the door hinges moaned and a bright light shot into the room. Jade looked up. Who was joining her in the early morning? The phone slipped from her fingers.
Dustin Colter.
“What are you doing here?” She crawled to her feet, tucking her phone back into her purse.
“Is this a bad time?” He hesitated before coming all the way inside. His chestnut hair had lost its tight curl but grew in long waves around his ears and neck. His open jacket revealed a neat plaid shirt hanging over his crisp jeans.
“Please, come in.” He looked good with his Elvis-hook smile and ocean-blue eyes.
Dustin enveloped her in his thick arms before she could exhale. She pressed her cheek against his chest like he was a warm blanket on a cold night. Seeing him made coming home complete. As if Jade had suddenly realized something was missing from her life.
“What are you doing here?”
Dustin’s embrace didn’t ease up. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“How did you know?” Jade stepped out of his arms. Leaning against him, inhaling his fresh meadow scent, brought her weaknesses and vulnerability to the surface. He’d not been dangerous when he came to Whisper Hollow days before her wedding. But the terrain of her life and heart had changed since then.
“Linc called, asked me to work on the Cadillac. I stopped by the house to give it a look. Your mother-in-law told me about your mom.”