Greater Love

by Robert Whitlow

  “I’m sorry. Is there a way to postpone—”

  “I’m not sure. I thought I would bounce back. Now I’m committed to the test.”

  Vince looked pitiful. He needed to be tucked into bed sipping a sports drink to keep hydrated.

  “Would you like me to get you a bottle of water?” I asked.

  Vince pointed at a desk. There were three bottles of water underneath it.

  “I have water. I just can’t keep it in me.”

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Would you pray for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean right now. I feel horrible.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Vince bowed his head and closed his eyes. I glanced around. A couple of people were watching us. Some of them had probably asked God for help within the past few hours. I closed my eyes.

  “Lord, I ask you to touch Vince and heal him. Drive this sickness from his body and give him the strength to finish the test and pass it. Amen.”

  When I opened my eyes there were at least a dozen people staring at us. Vince lifted his head.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  “Weak, but I think I can try another sip or two of water.”

  The chief administrator of the exam instructed us to return to our seats. As soon as we were settled I looked toward the area of the room where I’d been with Vince. I couldn’t see him, but as the proctors handed out the next battery of questions, I didn’t pray for myself. I directed my prayers toward another part of the room.

  At the end of the day, I found Vince. He still looked pale.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Not a hundred percent, but after you prayed for me I could think more about the questions on the page than the condition of my stomach.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you before tomorrow?”

  “No, I’m going back to the hotel to crash.”

  “You need to have more than just water.”

  “I will. Room service can handle anything I might want.”

  I’d never used room service at a hotel.

  “Are you sure? I’d be glad to go to a store and bring something to you.”

  “You’ve already been too close to me. I don’t want you to pick up this bug. It’s probably a nasty virus.”

  Julie came rushing up.

  “Hey, Vinny,” she said. “Did you answer the questions with half your brain tied behind your back?”

  Vince looked at me. “More like half my stomach.”

  “That’s me. I’m starving.” Julie turned toward me. “There’s an Italian place you’ve got to try. I ate there a bunch when I was at Emory. Pasta is great brain food, and you enjoy dishes with a kick to them, don’t you?”

  “If they’re done right.”

  “Then let’s go. I’ll treat and deduct it from your first paycheck. Vinny, you’re welcome to join us. Just because we won’t be working at the same firm doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. However, I’ve got to warn you that one of the things Tami is looking forward to is dragging Joe Carpenter back and forth across the courtroom and then telling Zach about it over a romantic dinner.”

  “You should tie up three-fourths of your imagination and put it behind your back,” I said.

  “I’ll pass on dinner,” Vince said, giving me a wan smile. “I’m more in the mood for a pack of saltine crackers. Anything more might kick my stomach out of my body.” He looked at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As Julie and I walked out of the building I told her about Vince’s illness.

  “That’s too bad,” she said with a concerned look. “I hope we don’t get it.”

  A COUPLE WEEKS LATER INSAVANNAH, DADDY LINGERED IN MY new apartment at Mrs. Fairmont’s. The last box had been unloaded from the pickup. I’d left home many times to go to school, but this time was different. From now on my loyalties to place would be divided.

  “Do you want me to help you unpack?” Daddy asked.

  “There isn’t anything heavy. It would be better if I put my clothes in the right spot.”

  “Yeah, I don’t try to rearrange your mama’s closet.”

  I smiled. Every item in Mama’s closet knew its place. Daddy looked at his watch.

  “I’d better get going. The chickens will be coming down the line in the morning, and I have to be there to greet them.”

  Daddy didn’t move toward the door. Instead, he pointed to a box of books.

  “Do you want me to put that in your bedroom?”

  “No, I’m going to buy a bookcase for this room.”

  “Don’t settle for pressboard covered with vinyl. Find a used one made from wood.”

  “There are lots of secondhand furniture shops in Savannah that sell nice things that aren’t antiques. I can find a solid maple or cherry bookcase with a nick or two for a good price.”

  “Right,” he said, still not moving toward the door.

  “I’ll come home,” I said in answer to his unspoken thoughts.

  “Of course you will.”

  “And with me living in Savannah, there won’t be any excuse for the family not to come for a vacation. Don’t forget Zach’s offer to move out and let you stay in his townhome for a few days.”

  I heard Flip pattering down the wooden steps to the basement. In a few seconds the Chihuahua bounded into the room and sniffed Daddy’s ankles for the tenth time since we’d arrived. Flip didn’t protest when Daddy scooped him up and began to scratch the back of the little dog’s neck.

  “Maybe I should get your mama a little dog like this,” Daddy said as Flip closed his eyes in pleasure. “Not now, but when the twins leave home.”

  “That won’t happen for five more years.”

  “It seems like five days since you were their age.”

  Tears suddenly welled up in my eyes.

  “That’s my fault. I’m sorry,” Daddy said when he saw my reaction.

  I rubbed my eyes. “It would have happened as soon as you left. I’d rather you see them so you’ll know how much I’ll miss you.”

  Daddy put Flip on the floor and wrapped his arms around me. The unselfish purity of his affection was the best example of God’s love I knew this side of heaven. If every girl and boy could be so blessed, the world would be a much better place. I buried my head in his shoulder. He held me for at least a minute before letting me go.

  “Call as much as you want,” he said.

  “I will.” I touched my heart. “But we’ll always be connected in here. You and Mama are the best parents in the world. If I ever have children, I hope they love and respect me as much as I do you.”

  I’d never seen Daddy cry except in church, but two tears suddenly gushed from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away, reached out, and put his right hand on my head.

  “The Lord bless you, Tammy Lynn.”

  I closed my eyes to receive his words and anything that followed. He didn’t speak anything else but kissed me in the usual place on top of my head.

  AFTER DADDY LEFT I JOINED MRS. FAIRMONT IN THE DEN. THE TV was tuned to a sports show about turkey hunting. The host of the program was demonstrating different types of turkey calls, some produced by holding a device to the mouth, others by scraping something across a box. The host issued a call that generated interest from a large tom turkey. I’d seen wild turkeys within yelling distance of the house on Beaver Ruin Road. When a group was startled and suddenly took flight it created a tremendous racket.

  I sat on the couch to Mrs. Fairmont’s right, my teeth pressed firmly against my lower lip to keep it from trembling. I knew it would be hard saying good-bye to Daddy. The call of the hills where I’d grown up would always be at the edge of my hearing.

  “I told Christine you were going to use my car until you can buy one of your own,” Mrs. Fairmont said.

  I forced myself to leave thoughts of home.

  “Is that okay with her?”

  “She wants you to check with m
y insurance company to find out what would happen if you have a wreck.”

  “As a consensual user residing in the household, the policy would cover me so long as I operated the car within the scope of my permitted use,” I stated, then stopped. “That sounds like a lawyer answer, doesn’t it?”

  Mrs. Fairmont smiled. “It’s nice having someone as smart as you living in the house. Sam Braddock won’t have to make any more house calls.”

  “You should keep Mr. Braddock as your lawyer. He’s forgotten more about the law than I’ll ever know. If you give me the name of your agent, I’ll call tomorrow to check on it and reassure Mrs. Bartlett.”

  “When are you going to start calling her Christine?”

  “Not until you start calling me Ms. Taylor,” I answered with a slight smile. “Habits of respect are hard to break.”

  “Your parents have done a fine job raising you.” Mrs. Fairmont’s eyes twinkled. “And I’m going to keep you in line.”

  “I hope you do.”

  The front door opened and Flip raced toward the foyer. I followed. It was Mrs. Bartlett. I grabbed Flip away from her feet. The little dog never bit her, but Mrs. Bartlett lived in constant fear that he would.

  “Did he tear into you like that when you entered the house?” she asked.

  “He made sure I was friendly.”

  “If he had more than three brain cells in that microscopic skull of his, he’d learn how to treat me.”

  “I think his brain is fairly large for such a small animal.”

  “Who knows.” Mrs. Bartlett sniffed. “Speaking of brains, I talked to Mother a few hours ago, and she sounded fine.”

  “Yes, it’s a good day.”

  Mrs. Bartlett lowered her voice. “Those are getting rarer. Gracie’s niece got a scholarship offer to college and is leaving town next week. If you hadn’t been moving in with her, we would have placed Mother at Surfside. They’ve opened a new wing for the memory-impaired.”

  Surfside was an upscale nursing home where Mrs. Fairmount had recuperated for a few weeks the previous summer following a stroke.

  “And before we discuss anything else,” Mrs. Bartlett continued, “I want you to promise that you won’t fight me if it becomes necessary to move Mother. I know we didn’t agree about what should have been done last year, but I trust you’ve matured enough to realize tough decisions like this have to be made.”

  Mrs. Bartlett had an amazing knack for misrepresenting my intentions and offending me in a very short space of time.

  “That’s a decision the family should make,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “I’ve always taken that position with the elderly women I’ve worked for. Two of the ladies I took care of while I was in college ended up in nursing facilities. I helped with the transition and visited them after they were situated.”

  “Your references confirmed your cooperation. But it never hurts to get things out in the open so there won’t be a misunderstanding later. When do you start work for the law firm?”

  “In the morning. But I didn’t accept the job with Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. I’m working with Maggie Smith, a former assistant DA, and Julie Feldman, a woman who clerked with me last summer.”

  Mrs. Bartlett gave me a startled look. “Doesn’t the fellow you date work for Sam Braddock? You know, the young man from Charleston.”

  “Vince Colbert works there, but I’m courting Zach Mays, an associate at the firm who specializes in admiralty law.”

  “Courting? What quaint terminology. Perfect for a lawyer. Well, Mother is certainly confused about all that. She thought you were dating the young man from Charleston. I won’t stick my nose into your personal business. Just make sure you don’t cross the line into our family business.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I’ll make sure the insurance coverage on the car covers me while I’m driving. Do you know the name of the agent?”

  “It’s in the glove box. Make sure it always has a full tank of gas.”

  I wasn’t sure how to keep a gas tank perpetually full but believed I could satisfy the intent of her demand.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Christine!” Mrs. Fairmont called out from the den. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Mother! There were some things I had to discuss with Tami.”

  “If it has to do with Surfside, you can forget it. The only way I’m leaving this house is in a hearse with flowers!”

  Mrs. Bartlett pressed her lips together for a moment then leaned over and spoke to me in a softer voice.

  “You’re right. She is having one of her better days.”

  9

  JESSIE MOVED LAZILY FROM PLACE TO PLACE ALONG THE RIVER walk. With no place to go, she wasn’t in a hurry. She looked at the displays of merchandise in shop windows but didn’t go inside any of the stores. Even with a clean face, arms, and hair, she couldn’t pass for a legitimate customer and didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. She sat on a bench and watched ships come and go in the channel.

  By mid-morning other homeless people began to congregate in the area. Jessie avoided them. She knew street people were usually suspicious of others. For some, that made them reclusive. Others could be grumpy. A few might be weirdly dangerous. Jessie didn’t want to get close enough to find out.

  The rich breakfast snatched from the bakery didn’t beat back her hunger very long. By twelve o’clock Jessie’s stomach demanded attention. A return to the bakery would be too risky. Dumpsters at the rear of buildings could be a source of food, but there were too many people in the area to allow her to privately dive into a trash container. She vainly scanned the ground for coins. She moved away when a policeman walked by.

  The lunchtime business crowd started coming to the small restaurants that dotted the area. Jessie watched with envy as well-dressed men and women entered the eateries. She sat on a curb near the entrance of an Italian restaurant. Rich fragrances tormented her attention.

  “Are you new to Savannah?” a voice beside her asked.

  Jessie turned her head and saw an obese older woman dressed in a faded yellow dress and wearing a floppy hat. The woman looked homeless, but on second glance Jessie wasn’t sure. Jessie wasn’t interested in a conversation.

  “Some questions don’t have to be answered,” the woman continued.

  Jessie got up to move away. Ignoring the older woman was the best response. Jessie stepped closer to the restaurants. A man and woman exited and approached her. The woman was carrying a takeout box with the name of the restaurant on the side and a clear plastic top. Jessie could see a thick piece of lasagna inside. She had a sudden urge to grab the box and take off running. She took a furtive step toward the woman.

  “Stop!” a voice called out.

  The man and woman stopped and looked past Jessie at the older woman who was still standing beside the bench where Jessie had been sitting. Jessie spun around and glared. With fire in her eyes, the old woman took a step toward her and pointed her finger at Jessie’s chest.

  “The devil wants you, but I told him he can’t have you! You belong to the Lord!”

  The man and woman with the food quickly walked away. Other people gave Jessie and the old woman a wide berth.

  “Leave me alone,” Jessie spat out.

  “I can’t,” the woman answered, coming closer.

  The old woman walked with a slight limp. It would be easy to run away. Jessie told her legs to move, but they didn’t obey. She looked down at her feet.

  “Are you hungry?” the woman asked, lowering her voice.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Are you hungry?” the woman repeated.

  Jessie’s stomach growled so loudly she suspected the woman could hear it.

  “Yeah,” she admitted.

  “There are many kinds of food in this world. Do you know the difference between good and bad?”

  “Sometimes I have to eat what I can get,” Jessie answered defensively, then noticed the woman was carrying a big black pocketbook
. “Give me five dollars. That way I can get a good dinner.”

  As soon as she said it, Jessie wished she’d asked for more money. The woman obviously considered herself a preacher. That sort of person was supposed to help people like Jessie.

  “If I give you five dollars, will you buy better food than what you found walking down the train tracks?” the woman asked, her blue eyes twinkling.

  Jessie’s mouth dropped open.

  I CHECKED MYSELF IN THE MIRROR, AND I THOUGHT ABOUT MY first day at public school. As a homeschooler, I didn’t start until the ninth grade. The first day Mama allowed me to wear my most stylish blue dress. But I had no illusions about what lay ahead. Other girls from the church attended the local high school. Stories of ostracism and teasing by other students were common. We reminded ourselves that our modest clothes and long hair were badges of honor, but it was still nice supporting one another.

  When I made the varsity basketball team, my classmates rarely harassed me about my clothes and beliefs. There were exceptions, but I learned that success was a ticket to respect. More important, I discovered success could be achieved without violating my convictions. I hoped the same opportunity awaited me in the practice of law.

  Mrs. Fairmont wasn’t awake and the house was quiet. Gracie was scheduled to clean the house, so I added extra coffee and water to the pot and pushed the button. With the coffeemaker dripping, I wrote Gracie a note of greeting and put it in a place where only she would find it. I left a second note for Mrs. Fairmont with the address and phone number for the new firm. I’d walked to work when I clerked for Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter, but those early morning strolls through the historic district were no longer an option.

  When I backed Mrs. Fairmont’s car from the garage and turned into the cobblestone street, my cell phone rang. I fumbled through my purse and answered just before it went to voice mail.

  “Hello.”

  “Welcome to Savannah,” Zach said. “Are you still at Mrs. Fairmont’s house?”

  “No, I’m on my way to the office. She’s letting me borrow her car for a few weeks.”

  “I wish you were walking toward Montgomery Street. I’m sitting in my office looking out the window in the direction you came from this summer.”