The Husband Lesson

by Jeanie London

  “When can you possibly find time for that? You’re even busier than I am.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. Karan’s flexible.”

  What struck Charles the most was Rhonda’s commitment to seeing this program through. She believed so much in helping people. He did, too. But his way of helping was diametrically opposed to hers. Diagnosing and repairing a person physically didn’t demand he have faith in anything but his own skill and knowledge of the body. He didn’t have to put his faith in someone, believe in someone, then help them figure out how to heal on their own time frame. He thought of her story about mentally ill John. Sometimes the healing was never quite completed. Life versus the quality of life. Two sides of the same coin.

  Rhonda’s work struck him as much more courageous.

  “You really think Karan has something to offer New Hope?” he asked.

  “I’m sure of it.” Her confidence made his lack so glaring. “She hasn’t figured it out yet, either, but we’re working on it. We’ll get there. I’m confident.”

  She echoed his earlier reassurance, and he was willing to go a step further. To believe. If not in Karan, in Rhonda’s assessment of the situation.

  “Maybe she should attend an orientation. Like you said, the court has already defrayed some of the cost by screening her, and it’s not as if we have guarantees about how long any of our volunteers stays with us.”

  “True enough,” she said graciously. “We’ll continue to stick to your schedule if you’ll continue to provide it.”

  Boundaries he’d put in place, complicating all of their lives because he hadn’t wanted to see his ex. He might not have a lot of answers right now, but the ones he had he didn’t like at all.

  “Listen, Rhonda, I know you don’t want my opinions about Karan. But just know that I heard what you said before. I’ve been thinking about it. My past with Karan might not be as in the past as I thought.”

  In an instant, her usual high-beam smile was in place, brightening her whole face and reassuring him they had moved beyond the trouble. “Thank you for sharing that. And because you’re a friend and not a patient, I’d like to share something with you. If you want to hear it.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Avoidance. Look it up on the internet.” Then she spun on her heels and was gone.

  KARAN WALKED THROUGH THE BACK hallway of New Hope and headed straight for the kitchen. She intended to wait there for Rhonda, hoping to avoid Charles entirely. She simply couldn’t handle her reaction to the man. Inside her head there was a flood of righteous anger for a litany of valid reasons.

  But no matter how angry she was at the way he blamed her for the past and the way he treated her in the present, she couldn’t deny that anger wasn’t doing a thing to protect her. She felt hurt by his hostility and too eager to arrive at New Hope to find out if he’d stuck to his schedule. Just seeing his Jeep in the parking lot had started her heart thumping.

  Anxiety? Or excitement?

  She suspected the latter. Anxiety she could have lived with.

  Smiling at the night deputy who’d let her in, Karan beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen when she heard Charles.

  “Thanks so much for making the trip,” he was saying.

  Pressing herself against the inner wall, she held her breath and tried to block the dull thud of her racing heart. What had she ever seen in this man?

  Well, beyond the way he looked, of course.

  Another question for her journal?

  Charles strolled past the kitchen accompanied by a casually dressed woman and a sheriff wearing a uniform from another county—Albany it seemed from the insignia.

  “Come into my office,” he said. “I’ll sign the paperwork before we get them.”

  Everything about him bristled with tension. Whatever was going on had his entire attention. Luck seemed to be with her for once. Now if she could avoid him until she caught up with Rhonda. She was too raw tonight to withstand the hostility in his expression, the cool distance in his voice.

  Where had they gone so tragically wrong?

  That would be a question for her journal.

  Susanna had a good point that Charles’s perspective about the demise of their marriage likely differed from hers. Karan hadn’t thought of that before, but it made sense. Maybe she wouldn’t even see things the same way if she looked back now. She was older now, distanced—somewhat—from the hurt.

  Glancing at the clock, she went to stand in front of the window over the kitchen sink, gazing at the backyard. It would be dark soon, and the landscape lighting was already on, illuminating the path to the gazebo. There were security lights, too, but the overall effect was a nice compromise between practical and atmospheric. New Hope had done a better job of creating a homey environment outside.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” a voice said.

  Karan turned to find the night-duty sheriff.

  “We’ve got guests. Gate guard called.”

  He seemed under the impression she knew what that meant. He didn’t hang around long enough for her to tell him otherwise, so she followed him into the reception area where he went straight to the door.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  Karan peered through the open door and saw a woman climbing the steps, a toddler on each hip and a young boy beside her.

  That little unsmiling boy reminded her of Susanna’s Brandon way before he’d started school. Yet this little guy was dragging a suitcase bigger than he was up those steps, determined, obviously the man of the family.

  The young mother was beautiful. Dressed in worn jeans and a T-shirt, she clung to the toddlers, both little girls who, on closer inspection, appeared to be twins. While not identical, they were surely the same age. Both had glossy black curls like their mother and big brother. One sucked her thumb.

  At first glance a perfectly beautiful family. Except for the mother’s tear-stained cheeks and the absence of a dad.

  “Welcome to New Hope,” Karan said. She might not have a clue what was supposed to happen, but she certainly knew how to greet guests. “Please come in.”

  The family was ushered inside and the deputy closed the door behind them.

  “Hello, I’m Karan. What a beautiful family you are,” she said, easing into the introduction. “And whom do we have here?”

  “Me llama Marisol,” the mother said in an accented voice. She took a deep breath and found her English. “My son, Raphael, and my daughters, Esme and Everleigh.”

  Definitely twins. “What lovely names. I’m so very pleased to meet you all. Your mom doesn’t have any free hands, but you do.” Karan extended her hand to Raphael and hoped the child spoke English. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Raphael.”

  Slipping his small hand into hers, he shook, taking in everything about her with serious dark eyes. “Hola, senora.”

  Another door opened and the triage nurse appeared, a woman with long shiny dark hair—Tammy, according to her name badge. Karan tried not to look relieved that the onus of this meeting was no longer on her. She could exchange pleasantries for only so long and she did not want any more screwups.

  “This is Marisol.” Karan performed the introductions. That much she could do. “Her handsome son, Raphael, and her beautiful daughters, Esme and Everleigh. Twins, I believe.”

  Marisol nodded gratefully, eyes glinting suspiciously in the light.

  “You are like a family of little angels,” Tammy said softly. “No more worrying right now, Marisol. You made the right choice coming here. We’ll figure everything out, okay?”

  That seemed to be what Marisol needed to hear.

  “Come with me, everyone.” Tammy motioned to the door she’d come through. “The deputy will take your suitcase.”

  “You, too,” she told Karan, who filed along behind them.

  “Marisol, why don’t we go talk in here?” Tammy directed the young mother into an examination room. “Are you comfortable leaving the children with Karan?”

 
; Then Tammy caught Karan’s gaze with a telling glance, and she suddenly understood what needed to happen. Tammy needed to speak to Marisol alone, possibly even do a physical exam.

  “Will your girls come with me?” she asked Marisol. “We can wait for you in the waiting area. We’ll do something fun together.”

  What, she had no clue, but she sounded exactly like Susanna at one of Brooke’s Brownie meetings, all capable and fun kindergarten teacher.

  Who knew? Susanna would never believe her.

  “Go, mis ninos.” Marisol set the girls down to the floor. “Mama will be right here if you need me. Raphael, help this nice lady with your sisters.”

  “Sí, Mama.”

  He grabbed two little hands with a death grip, and Karan led the children into the other room, where there was nothing to entertain one child let alone three.

  Not a ball. Not a book.

  Who had designed this place, anyway? New Hope was an emergency shelter for families, but someone had obviously overlooked something here.

  Raphael helped his sisters get up into a chair, where they sat together, completely adorable with their big dark eyes and curls. They watched her expectantly, almost feral, as if they could sense her fear. Karan was on borrowed time, that much she knew. These children were temporarily out of sorts. A strange place. A vanishing mother. Whatever traumatic situation had brought them here. The lull wouldn’t last long.

  “So, Raphael, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? How old are you?”

  “Five, senora.”

  “Wow, you’re certainly tall for your age. Do you go to school yet?”

  “No, senora.”

  “And how old are your sisters?”

  He held up two fingers which, Karan knew, meant the reprieve would be over soon. The twin with the pink barrette in her hair was already starting to fidget.

  “Can you help me remember which sister is Esme and which sister is Everleigh?”

  Raphael jumped off his own chair and stood before his sisters on sturdy legs, reconciled, as if he’d done this task before. He pointed to one twin. “Esme.” Then the other. “Everleigh.”

  Okay, Esme sucked her thumb. Everleigh had the barrette.

  “What do you like to do for fun?” Karan glanced around the room for something, anything, to entertain these children.

  “We go to the park with Mama,” Raphael told her, “and play ball. Everleigh runs around. Esme likes to sit with Mama and suck her thumb.”

  Excellent. Common ground. A place to start. “I’ve played kickball before. We don’t have a ball in here, but there are lots of them outside in the yard. Wouldn’t be good for tonight because it’s getting dark, but when the sun is out, we can play. Right now we can handle running around, and some thumb-sucking I think. Who likes to suck thumbs? Go on, raise your hands.”

  Karan raised hers, and Everleigh squealed. Esme smiled around her thumb. Raphael’s eyes twinkled and she almost had him smiling. She could tell by the faintest hint of a dimple in his left cheek.

  “Well, if we all don’t want to suck our thumbs, then we’ll leave that to Esme and find something else.” Snatching a magazine from the rack, she sat beside the twins and motioned Raphael to sit next to her.

  National Geographic. Perfect.

  From somewhere in memory, she recalled a game she used to play with her father. They’d played it anytime they’d needed to liven things up.

  Flipping through the pages, she found a photographic spread of a market in Taiwan. “Okay, everyone, see this photo?”

  She held up the magazine and made eye contact with each child. “I spy with my eye something…red. Who sees what I see? Come on, look really hard!”

  “Tomatoes!” Raphael said.

  Everleigh pointed to the image of the tomato cart so eagerly she almost knocked the magazine from Karan’s hands.

  A hit. And the game entertained for nearly ten minutes, which had more to do with her manufactured excitement that kept the twins giggling and won another almost-smile from Raphael.

  Until the sound of a raised voice came from behind the exam room door, rapid-fire dialogue. Karan guessed Marisol was coming unglued. The kids certainly seemed to think so because they all spun toward the sound. Raphael hopped up and went to the sisters, slipping an arm around both twins’ shoulders and giving a reassuring squeeze. Then they all looked expectantly at her.

  I Spy had been fun, but as the door to the exam room still didn’t open and produce Marisol, Karan was on her own. So she did what she always did when at a loss—called Susanna. Or texted her in this case.

  “Why don’t we text Susanna? She’s my best friend.” She whipped out her trusty BlackBerry and texted furiously. “Do you have a best friend, Raphael?”

  Help! I need games to play with preschoolers!

  “I play T-ball with Roger,” he told her.

  “Sounds like a best friend to me.”

  But Raphael didn’t reply. He was too busy eyeing her BlackBerry. She handed it over, considering it a small price to pay for his help.

  “I have the bubble game. Have you ever played?”

  He shook his head, serious again, and watched as she pulled up the app and showed him how to operate the keypad. Kids today were technologically savvy no matter what their age. Within minutes Raphael’s little fingers were flying on the keypad. Those bubbles didn’t stand a chance.

  Of course the twins wanted what their big brother had and a war was in the making when Raphael, intent on the game, got possessive with the BlackBerry and turned his back.

  Karan had no way of knowing if Susanna had responded to her text yet, so she was on her own. Everleigh was already climbing off the chair and heading for the exam-room door.

  Karan spotted a trash can near her. Tearing a page from the magazine, she tossed it across the room and made a basket.

  That got the child’s attention. She turned big dark eyes onto Karan, who tore out another page. This one she handed to Esme. “Your turn.”

  National Geographic had been sacrificed on the altar of toddler entertainment by the time the exam room door opened and Marisol and Tammy reappeared.

  The twins ran to their mother, wading through the sea of makeshift basketballs that littered the waiting area. Marisol scooped them up in a practiced move and planted one on each hip. From where Karan was standing, the little girls looked as though they were settling into the safest place in their world.

  “We’re going to stay here,” Marisol told Raphael.

  He glanced up from the BlackBerry, fingers still moving over the keypad. “Like a hotel?”

  She smiled as she watched him. “Just like a hotel.”

  Karan was still cleaning up when Tammy sidled close and whispered, “I’d like to get them settled before group session lets out. I could use your help.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Lead the way.”

  Raphael returned her BlackBerry and with his mother’s prompting said a polite, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” she said. “You’re welcome to play anytime. Just ask.”

  That hint of dimple flashed. A tiny indentation in his smooth cheek, such a small gesture Karan might have missed it, but hadn’t. And she was glad.

  Tammy led them toward the back stairs. Karan filed along behind, checking her messages. Sure enough, Susanna had replied.

  Red light green light.

  Animal charades.

  Hotter/colder

  Hide and seek

  Can’t wait to hear all about this! Hope they help;-)

  “You go, Suze,” Karan whispered beneath her breath as she climbed the stairs. She’d be armed and ready when they got into this family’s new living quarters. Or the next time she had to entertain the little ones.

  Once upstairs, it turned out that entertaining the children wasn’t on her to-do list.

  Karan hadn’t been inside any of the suites before, but this one did indeed look much as Marisol had described it: a hotel.
Immaculately clean and clearly designed for comfort, the living area was open and spacious with a small dining area attached.

  There was a window overlooking the backyard and lots of amenities one would find in a typical family home. A flat-screen television. DVD player. A computer and printer. A gaming station with the same games that Brandon and his friends liked to play.

  The decor, at least, was more inviting than downstairs. They’d almost achieved the homey feel. Even the art on the walls was reminiscent of family life with real watercolors and acrylics on canvas.

  Definitely not gallery or museum-quality art, but upon closer inspection she discovered a signature plate on one painting that explained that all the paintings in New Hope had been painted by members of Project Return, another not-for-profit organization. This one helped people coping with mental illnesses to return to living productive and rewarding lives.

  When Karan took in the effect on the rooms, she agreed with the choice to use real art. The impression was much, much more welcoming than generic prints could ever have been.

  Well done, New Hope.

  She was so taken, in fact, that she had to remind herself she could be standing in what was once Frankie’s bedroom. But when she watched Marisol, her children gathered close, touring the place with a look of outright amazement, Karan didn’t care. If knocking down a few walls and remodeling Frankie’s house could put that look on Marisol’s face, then Karan was all for it.

  Who would guess she’d find something good to associate with Frankie all these years later. Life was full of surprises.

  Tiptoeing behind the group, she peeked into a simple but nicely furnished bedroom with a double bed and more art on the walls—a spray of bright dandelions that looked like mixed media and a forest done in acrylics with shades of green.