“You shouldn’t get up,” I say. “Right, Jace?”
“Well, actually, hon, a little exercise is a good idea.”
“Jace!”
“I’m sorry. It’s true.”
“Please, guys? And alone. Mom and Dad, you’re great and all, but I’ve got to do this by myself.”
“What do you want to see him so badly?” I ask.
“Mom. Can I go or not?”
Jace and I exchange an hour-long conversation in a glance. “Yes,” he says. He touches my thigh. “In the medical sense, it’s pretty minor, Hezzie. He’s fine to walk down there.”
Jace helps him step into a pair of sweats, then stand to his feet. He curls his hand around the IV pole, hands that seem to have become those of a man overnight.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yep.”
He walks out of the room, arm in a sling, face forward.
I look at Jace. “I’m dying to be a fly on the wall.”
“Heatherrrrr . . .” He picks up the morning paper. “Actually, so am I.”
“What do you think he’s saying?”
“Well, with Will it’s hard to say. But I can tell you this, we’ll never know unless he decides to tell us.”
“I’m going down to get a cup of coffee.”
“Oh, that’s convenient—you’ll have to walk by Knox’s room.”
“What number is it?”
He sighs. “403.”
I stand up and grab my purse. “Want something?”
“Yes. I could use the caffeine to clear my brain. Man, I just don’t know what to think about all this.”
“Me either.”
I walk by Knox’s room and quickly glance inside as I pass. Will sits in the chair, leaning forward, and Knox looks stricken. Not in a mountain-falling-on-you way.
The man is in for the battle of his life; it will make last night look like an afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese. And Will is leading the charge in a still, small voice. Mercy, but I wish I was more like my son.
* * *
Sister Jerusha arrives after the lunch shift at the Hotel. “I’m going to knock Knox’s block off.”
“Say that three times fast.”
She hoots.
Will says, “He’s right down the hall.”
“Yeah, I know. But I just wanted to stop in first. Seems to me you’re more of the victim than that rascal is.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Will shakes his head. “His injury is far worse.”
I drag another chair next to mine. “Knox had his spleen removed in the middle of the night. I can’t say I feel too sorry for him.”
She nods. “Knox made his choices. I’d have moved heaven and earth to get him into a good college, on a good path. He knows that.”
Leave it to Sister J to take away a drug lord’s excuses and still love him.
She holds up a handled brown paper grocery bag. “And guess what I brought?”
I shake my head.
“Cake! And guess who helped me make it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Come on in, doll!” she yells.
And in the door walks Krista.
“Krista!”
“Miss Heather!”
“Oh, girl, I am so glad you came back.”
“Me too.”
She hugs me lightly, and she smells so good.
“So where were you?”
“In Chicago.”
“Really? How did you get there?”
“It’s a long story. But I’m all right. I’ll save it for the Hotel.”
“I’ll remember that.”
She opens her eyes wide. “Oh, you will.”
Sister J excuses herself to go visit with her godson.
* * *
Jace walks in with hot drinks round two from the coffee bar in the hospital lobby. Kristas is playing cards with Will, and really, she’s still a kid, just two years older than he is.
“Krista! Would you like some coffee?”
“No thank you, Dr. Curridge. Are you comin’ down to the Hotel soon?”
“In a week and a half, but I can come sooner if you need me to.”
“I do.”
“I’ll be there the day after tomorrow.”
She looks at me. “I got to make it work this time, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. We’ll help you.”
We sip our coffee, and Sister J walks in. Jace hands her a cup. “I saw you from the hallway.”
“Good man.” She sips, screws up her face. “What the heck is this?”
“A white chocolate raspberry latte. Will suggested it because Mo told him you love raspberries.”
She sips again. “Hmm. Not bad once you know what it is. Thanks.” She pulls out a little Bible. “I swore off Kings and Chronicles a long time ago. How about a little of that rascal David?” So she reads to us from the Psalms and reminds us, “Following Jesus isn’t something we do because it’s easy or even prudent. Sometimes it makes no sense at all.”
“But then, God Himself being stripped of His clothes, beaten, tortured, and crucified makes no sense either,” I say.
Sister J points at me. “You got it, doll. You’ve really got it. Will?” She takes his hand. “You were doing the work of the Lord yesterday. Sometimes we get scars from that, but someday they’ll be badges of honor, stars in our crown.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of my son.
“What do you think, bud?” I ask. “Do we keep up at the Hotel?”
“Most definitely, Mom.”
Jace smiles. I hear his thoughts, and to me they sound a lot like Jesus, who never promised loving Him would be easy or even secure . . . but free? Ah, yes. We shall be free indeed.
FORTY-FOUR
I stand on the deck, just under the eaves, my fleece robe pulled tight against the thin mist. The loch lies in peace, its waters barely visible through the low fog. Car headlights emit a cotton glow as they cross the bridge heading north. The waters seem to recognize that now is not their time.
Jace slides out through the doors and presses a mug of tea in my hands. “Nice nap?”
“Yeah. Really good. I’m glad to be back home. I hate hospitals.
No offense.”
“None taken.”
“He’s going to be all right, isn’t he, Jace?”
“Yes, Hezz. I think you’ll find he’ll be better than he ever was.”
“Why’s that?”
“Life has become more precious. That’s always a good lesson to learn.”
“Still. Won’t he be scared now?”
“Only if we let him be. I think the best thing we can do is continue on the course. It’s like falling off a bike. Best to just get back on.”
“I guess. I still have a lot of questions to ask God, but I’m so tired. Maybe they’ll come tomorrow.”
“You aren’t too cold out here?”
“Just a couple minutes more. I’m remembering this place. It’s safe here. When we leave, we may never feel safe again.”
He puts his arm around my shoulders and draws me close. And he waits until I’m done, capturing the view I loved for so long. “We were never safe here, hon. Our souls were in greater danger than any bullet could extend.”
“My head knows that. But so much of me cries out to stay.”
“I know.”
A wind blows through the empty, late-autumn trees, branches clacking softly, the almost dead revived through the breath of other.
I turn. “So you seem like you’ve got news to tell me. Is everything okay?”
“Maybe you should be sitting down.”
“Oh no. What is it?”
“Hon, I found Gary Andrews.”
FORTY-FIVE
“Let’s go in, Jace. I’m cold.”
He ushers me through the French doors. I sit on the couch, and he hands me a throw. “Where is he?”
“Just over in Howard County. He works for the Department of Health and Human Services.”
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“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Pretty sure. I phoned him yesterday from the hospital and acted like I was from the alumni association of your old school.”
“You didn’t! Jace!”
“I know, but he bought it. He said he went there but wasn’t an alumni.”
He sits down next to me and pulls some of the blanket onto his own lap. We rest our feet side by side on the coffee table. “So I apologized for taking up his time, and that was that.”
“What did he sound like?”
“Nice. Regular. You know, just a regular guy.”
“Did he sound bitter or anything?”
“No, Heather. He didn’t.”
* * *
The call lasted two minutes tops, but my hand glistened with the sweat of two games of tennis in ninety-five-degree weather. I walk into the kitchen where the guys sit, ready to eat the meal Jace made. He really sets up a good chicken pot pie.
Two pairs of eyes question.
“He said he’d meet me.”
“Yeah!” Will.
Jace sits back in his seat with a dramatic sigh of relief. “That’s great, hon. What did he say?”
“He was very nice, actually.” I pick up my napkin and sit down. “He remembered me, but I had to explain my way back into his memory. It was really weird. And really mortifying to have to say, ‘I was that mean girl who used to sit halfway back on the right side of the bus.’ ”
“Is that right?” Jace. “Wow.”
“I know. I’m relieved, though.”
“So when are you meeting him?”
“Next Tuesday after he gets off work. He works flex time, so we’re meeting early at the Hamburger Hamlet.”
“Would you like some support? I could probably get Rick to cover my appointments.”
I pick up my fork and look at each one of them. “No, but thanks. There are just some things a person has to do on her own.”
Will picks up the serving spoon. “Let’s eat.”
* * *
Saturday afternoon Jace pulls up in front of a four-story townhouse, a looming house wider than most. “We’re here!”
A For Sale sign hangs in the front window.
I look at him. “Is this what I think it is?”
“What do you think it is?”
“A possible home for the Kristas of this world?”
“Do you think it could work?”
I feel my heart race. “It’s in the right location.”
“The Realtor should be here in a few minutes.”
I turn to Will in the backseat. “Are you okay to do this?”
He nods. “Yeah, Mom, I am.”
* * *
It’s like a narrow castle. Of course it’s been cut up into apartments, eight of them, and maybe that’s just the ticket. I’d dreamed of lofts, but why not one-bedrooms? Then if there are one or two kids with the ladies, there will be more room.
Woodwork hides beneath a thick crust of paint. The windows were replaced sometime in the ’60s, I think. And the linoleum floor peels at the corners. Still.
“I think this could work.” The first floor could have a gathering room and a training place for, well, all sorts of things, I guess: parenting, computer skills, ESL classes . . . hairdressing?
Well, why not? I still have a lot of contacts in the business.
Jace turns to the Realtor. “Are there any offers pending?”
The real estate agent, her sensible brown coat open to reveal a houndstooth suit, taps her day planner. “Not at this point. But you can’t be too sure with these places. I wouldn’t wait long.”
“We’ll get back to you tomorrow with an offer. Pending inspection, of course.”
“Of course.”
When we pull away, I can’t believe it. “There’s so much to do! We’ll have to get some sort of funding, find a director for the home. Oh, man!”
My cell phone rings. It’s Lark.
“He showed you, right?”
“Right.”
“He made me promise not to say a word.”
Jace.
“Just so you know, Summerville’s on it. That place is going to need extensive renovating.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as I end the call. “Ah, fabulous.”
I turn to Jace. “This is amazing. Do you really think we can do this?”
“Would you like to?”
“I really would. Krista needs us to.”
“Then yes. Absolutely, I do.”
“What about the ship?”
“I’m figuring we get this up and running and stick to the game plan.”
“I like it.”
* * *
For the first time in many years, I’m glad I’m not some glamorous, skinny, glossy lady. I can’t imagine showing up to ask forgiveness of somebody looking like life never dared touch me in a way that left a mark.
So here I stand in the entryway of Hamburger Hamlet. I hate Bethesda and pretty much anything right around DC. But I’ve never eaten a bad meal here, and they do a decent fudge layer cake.
I chose a simple khaki-colored wool skirt, a cranberry pullover turtleneck sweater, and mid-heel loafer pumps. My hair hasn’t been colored since the beginning of the summer; it’s too long, and I have to admit I look a little frumpy. He’ll probably be glad to see I didn’t turn out so well.
My purse hangs from double fists in front of me.
All of the bodily trippings one might imagine assail me. Dry mouth, heart beating like a Japanese drummer, brow a little sweaty. But he’s meeting me, right? He could have said, “Let’s just forget it. This is really creepy coming out of the blue.” He must have turned out to be a pretty nice guy to agree to this.
A man in a barn coat, wire-rimmed glasses, and a ball cap walks in. He takes the cap off immediately to reveal wavy, dirty-blond hair. Computer programmer.
Nope.
Two women in ski jackets, high heels, and work skirts. Data entry or customer service.
Definitely nope.
Another man with white hair so thick there’s no need for a hat, though the weather did turn quite cold yesterday. Charcoal gray overcoat. Financier.
Nope.
The door opens yet again. It’s about five ’til four.
A grandmother, her daughter, and the grandbaby.
Cute, but nope again.
Maybe I should sit down and wait, or go to the bar and order something to drink. Or maybe not. If I’m not here when he comes, he may leave. But if I appear too eager, he might think I’m a stalker or something.
The door opens and he walks in.
Yep, it’s Gary, loud and clear. He looks exactly the same. The wide cheekbones, slight nose, winged eyebrows that, seeing them as a functioning adult, are just beautiful. Without the overlay of dirt, Gary is handsome.
He smiles. “Heather Curridge?”
I step forward. “Yes.”
“Now I know who you are! Heather Reeves, yes! I was remembering someone else.”
“Probably Julia B.”
“That’s it.”
“I’m surprised you came.”
“It’s pretty intriguing. Wanna go sit down? We can catch up and be more comfortable. I’m starving.”
“Sure.”
Now one would think I am relieved at this point. He’s nice, accommodating, welcoming. But in truth my shame is utterly complete, having looked in the face of the person I sinned against and finding nothing but kindness.
I’ve never been lower.
The hostess seats us in a booth, the low, mellow lighting welcoming and yet offering me some sort of cover.
He really looks great. A wee bit overweight but in that nice-guy-who-wears-it-well way. His dark, straight hair, parted on the side like before, sparkles with a sprinkling of gray, and his brown eyes dance.
Now that’s new.
“How did you find me?” he asks.
I told him about Jace.
He laughs. “That was your husband? Well, I w
as convinced. I mean, live in DC for long, and all people do is call for donations. Guess I don’t have to send anything, then, huh?”
“Apparently not.”
“So let’s cut to the chase. Why in the world would you contact me after all these years?”
This should be easy, right? I’ve been working up to this for months. I’ve weathered canoes and forests, surly river guides and rental cars. “I wanted to apologize.”
He shakes his head. “What? For the stuff on the bus?”
I nod. “And in school.”
“You mean you’ve carried this stuff around for thirty years?”
“I guess so. I think so. I mean, it didn’t start to really haunt me until about ten months ago. I was horrible, Gary. Especially to Mary.”
“You’ve been watching too much Jerry Springer, Heather.”
“I hate that show.”
He smiles. “Me too. Look, I’m not saying what you did was right, but we were treated a lot worse right in our own home.”
“But you all left so suddenly. What happened?”
“My grandmother just couldn’t afford to send us anymore. She got laid off, and that was that. We all went up to Michigan—her brother lived there—so she could get work. I graduated high school, went to junior college in Amarillo, then got my degree from the University of Texas. But I always wanted to come back to Maryland. So I did.”
“Are you married?”
“Was. Divorced now, but it’s one of those situations where it’s for the best.”
Everybody says that.
“Any children?”
“A little boy. He’s twelve.”
“I have a fifteen-year-old boy.” I tell him a little about Jace too. “But what about Mary? Whatever happened to Mary?”
* * *
I knew it was going to be bad. I could tell by the way he got quiet and folded his hands around his water glass.
“Heather, Mary’s dead. She died years and years ago.”
“What happened?”
“Some stories have crazy twists and turns. Mary was pretty beaten up by you guys, I’ll admit it. But when we moved north, there was this lady next door who took a shine to her. She got her braces, permed her hair into some sort of style that looked good. You know, that”— he wiggles his fingers around his head—“sorta Farrah thing that was going on back then. Remember?”
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