A Carol for Kent

by Hallee Bridgeman

  In less than a minute, Henry entered the waiting room. He walked to where they stood and put his hands in his pockets, then spoke directly to Bobby. “Your mother told me not to call you. I’m not sure what her reaction will be when she sees you. There are some people here you may not want to expose to that kind of confrontation, so if you want to come with me alone, I can come back and get Carol and Lisa later.”

  Bobby swallowed and nodded, then knelt down to Lisa. “Henry will be right back to get you. Stay with your mama, okay, baby girl?” Lisa nodded. Bobby stood and ran a hand down her hair, then followed Henry. Carol took Lisa’s hand and found a place for the two of them to sit.

  Ten minutes later, the doors to the waiting room burst open, and Harriet Kent dashed into the room. “You!” she screamed at Carol, who stood up as soon as she saw Lisa’s grandmother. “This is all your fault!”

  Carol wasn’t sure if Harriet intended to physically attack her or not, so she was thankful when she saw Henry come back into the room. But Henry or no Henry, she could not let this continue.

  “Stay there, Lisa,” she ordered over her shoulder. She took a struggling Harriet by the arm and moved her away from Lisa. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henry sit in the chair she’d vacated. She pulled Harriet to a quiet corner and whipped her around until she backed her into the corner and they faced each other.

  “Never speak to me that way in front of my child again, or you will never see her again for the rest of your life. Not ever. Do you understand me?” Carol demanded, shaking her arm for emphasis.

  “You’ve had Robert so upset for the last two weeks that he had a heart attack. If you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself pregnant all those years ago, this never would have happened,” she said, spittle flying out of her mouth.

  Carol hadn’t let go of her arm yet and gave her another shake. “Baloney. If you had encouraged Robert to go to the doctor six months ago when he started feeling sick this never would have happened.”

  She let go and took a step back, drawing in a deep breath and consciously trying to calm down. “I brought Lisa here to tell him good-bye. I can just as easily leave with her if you want me to.”

  Harriet looked over Carol’s shoulder to where Lisa sat next to Henry, and Carol saw a trace of sanity return. “I’ll take her in,” she said.

  “No. I will take her in or we will leave. That decision is yours, just as any consequences of your choice are yours to live with.”

  Harriet studied Lisa for several moments, a calculating look in her eyes. Carol said, “Whatever you need to do and still sleep at night, Harriet.”

  Finally, Harriet said, “All right, then. I’m sure your little boyfriend here will break the rules and allow a child into his room for you. Far be it from me to stand in the way.”

  Carol stepped closer, close enough to Harriet’s face that she could feel her breath. “This thing between you and me and Bobby has absolutely nothing to do with that little girl sitting over there. Do you hear me? Don’t punish your only grandchild for our mistakes.”

  Harriet rubbed her face with her hands and nodded. “You’re right, Carol. I apologize. Please, bring Lisa in for as long as Doctor Suarez will allow it.”

  Carol let go of her arm and stepped out of the way, allowing Harriet to lead them out. Henry saw them and picked Lisa up, then followed behind them. Harriet led the way to Robert’s room, and stepped back so Carol and Lisa could go inside. Henry set Lisa down in the doorway of the room, then put an arm over Harriet’s shoulders and guided her away.

  Carol took Lisa’s hand and they walked into the room, shutting the door behind them. Robert lay on the bed hooked to various medical appliances. Wires ran from under his blanket to a computerized device that monitored his heart. He was asleep. Bobby stood at the window with his hands in his pockets.

  Carol pulled a chair close to the bed and set Lisa in it. “You may hold grandpa’s hand, Lisa, but you must be very gentle,” she said. “If you feel like you might want to say something, I’m sure he’d like that.”

  Lisa gingerly took her grandfather’s hand in one hand and stroked it with her other one. Carol went to where Bobby stood at the window and laid her fingers gently over his shoulder. Her heart broke for him when she saw the ragged expression on his face. She could tell he struggled with anger and sorrow, and from the look he wore, she couldn’t tell which one might win.

  “It’s okay if you want to let it go, Bobby. Sometimes, the anger is no longer important,” she said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  Bobby pulled her into his arms, and she went without protest. “What he did was unforgivable,” he said. “Why do I feel like I should feel guilty?”

  “Because he’s your dad and you love him,” she said.

  Bobby nodded against her neck, and held her tighter.

  Henry let Lisa stay for fifteen minutes, then he came back into the room and whispered to Carol that they needed to return to the waiting room. Carol considered the prospect of confronting Harriet yet again, and the look on her face must have informed Henry of the direction of her thoughts.

  “Why don’t you go to my office?” He suggested. “Lisa might even be able to get some sleep in there.”

  Robert had still not roused and Carol gently look Lisa’s hand and helped her down from the chair. Lisa took one last look at him, and tearfully said, “I love you, grandpa.”

  As she turned around, Robert partially opened his eyes. “I love you too, pumpkin,” he said in a hoarse whisper, then drifted off again.

  Carol had to carry a hysterical Lisa from the room to Henry’s office. They walked by Henry and Bobby while the men were talking. She overheard Henry saying, “I got the latest cardiology report. I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good, Bobby.”

  BOBBY stood next to his father’s bed. His throat ached with unshed tears, and he realized his hands had balled into fists in the pockets of his jeans.

  The frail man on the bed looked nothing like the rancher Bobby remembered as a child and a teen. In Bobby’s youth, his father had appeared larger than life. Over six feet tall, with wide, broad shoulders and large hands, he was perfectly suited to his profession as a horse breeder. Year after year, his farm produced champion thoroughbreds, and Robert Kent worked side by side with his staff of breeders and trainers, never stopping to consider that the owner of the farm shouldn’t have his turn at mucking out a stall or two.

  “You couldn’t have done more to hurt me if you’d tried,” Bobby asserted. He found himself jumping at the sound of his own voice, unaware of the fact that he’d spoken out loud.

  So many memories from his childhood crowded Bobby’s mind as he turned to look at his father. He remembered everything from birthdays to Christmas mornings. He remembered reaching up to hold his father’s hand as he crossed the street in downtown Richmond when he was five. He remembered holding his father’s calloused hand to bless their evening meals.

  “You…,” his voice hitched and he swallowed hard. “You took something from me that will never come back. You took Carol’s trust and crushed it under your boot. You robbed me and my daughter and the mother of my child.”

  The man he remembered was strong, honorable, hard but fair. His father always played by the rules. He was kind to animals and children and a loving husband to his wife. He was firm when animals or hands got out of line. He was giving when children in the community were hungry.

  “You robbed me of years that I can never get back. And you did it for something as common as money.”

  He remembered the first time his father had let him ride the stud horse all the way to the edge of their property by himself. He remembered how his father had savored Bobby’s first perfectly grilled and seasoned steak. He remembered spending hours alongside his father in the workshed, working late into the evenings rebuilding the engine block on a used pickup truck that would become his first car.

  Bobby leaned down, situating his lips close to his father’s ear. “Christ said the
love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. I believe that. I believe I’ve witnessed that. What you did was evil.”

  His father had bought him his first six string guitar and they sat on the porch on Saturday nights while the crickets chirped and the frogs bellowed and the horses whinnied. Robert Jason Kent, Senior had taught his son how to strum chords and how to pick melodies. They played everything from rockabilly to country western to theme songs from classic spaghetti westerns. Some nights, his dad would just strum chords and Bobby would pick melodies right out of his imagination.

  Straightening, Bobby walked to the glass door and looked out into the busy ICU ward. “Most people would consider it unforgivable, and most would understand my desire to hate you for the rest of my life. But Christ isn’t most men, is He? Our Lord said I have to forgive you.”

  He turned and looked at the man hooked up to the monitors, at the washed out pale skin blending into the white sheets. “Not just once. I have to forgive you over and over again.”

  As a child – that is to say by Bobby’s childish understanding – his father was more heroic than the Lone Ranger, more musically gifted than anyone on the radio, smarter than any scientist, wiser than Solomon, and a more devout man of God than any Saint. By his teen years, his father had convinced Bobby that there was absolutely nothing out of his reach, and constantly encouraged him to aim for the stars. As a grown man, he could not reconcile the man of his childhood memories, the man who had loved him and protected him as a child, the man he loved and trusted, with the Judas he had become.

  “I have no idea how or why you would do this thing you’ve done. It doesn’t matter. Because, as I stand here in this world knowing you face eternity, and understand that we are all fragile humans who are just a drop in the bucket of time, I will not let you rob me of my eternity, too.”

  He walked to the bed and gingerly sat down in the chair next to it. Then he slowly bowed his head. “Father God, I pray that You help me release the anger clutching my heart and taking over my mind. Help me to be Christ-like in all things, including this thing. Amen.”

  As he raised his head, he met his father’s gaze. He had no idea that tears streaked his cheeks. “I forgive you, dad. I forgive you for your lies and your deceit. I forgive you. It doesn’t make a single thing you did for all this time right. But you need to know that I really do forgive you. You can take that with you where you’re going if you’ve asked for forgiveness yourself.”

  Robert lifted a shaking hand and Bobby took it in his strong one. Weakly, Robert said, “Son…,”

  “No words needed, dad.” He shook his head.

  His father gasped and tried again. “I never…”

  “Save your breath. Just save your breath.”

  CAROL spent an hour trying to calm her daughter down. She finally got her to lie down on the couch long enough to rest, and Lisa drifted in and out of sleep. Bobby came and went as the night wore on, his face appearing more and more haggard as the hours passed.

  At one point while Lisa napped, Henry came into the office and sat with her, explaining how Harriet had found Robert in the horse barn, but that he had already been down for too long. The damage to his heart had been substantial. Barring a miracle, they were just waiting now.

  Harriet came into the office around four in the morning with coffee, and treated Carol as she had in the past. Carol couldn’t help wondering how much of her civility had been feigned all these years, then decided she didn’t really care. Harriet treated Lisa well, and as long as she kept her act up in front of the child, that was what truly mattered.

  Carol didn’t allow Lisa back into the room, not wanting her there when Robert’s heart stopped. She knew his death might frighten the child, so she stayed in Henry’s office with her and, whenever Lisa wanted to, she helped her pray for her grandpa.

  At five-thirty in the morning, the door to Henry’s office opened and Bobby walked in, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. She could tell from his expression that the wait was over. She shifted a sleeping Lisa onto the couch, and met him halfway across the room, letting him gather her into his arms. She cried for him, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as she pressed her ear against him. He released her and his gaze fell on Lisa. She left him alone with his daughter so he could tell her.

  As she left the room, she saw Henry walking down the hall and intercepted him. “Thank you, Henry. Thank you for letting Lisa see him.”

  Henry reached a hand out and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Sorry I couldn’t do more, Carol,” he said.

  “You’ve done so much for us, Henry. You’ve risked…”

  Henry held up a hand. “Don’t.”

  Carol nodded, knowing she could never speak about that time not so long ago when Henry had treated a man with a life threatening gunshot wound in her guest bedroom. Not ever. Instead, she turned around and saw Bobby standing in the doorway of the office holding a sobbing Lisa, watching them, and she went to soothe her daughter.

  “MOMMY?” Lisa asked from her bed back home.

  Carol turned from the doorway, thinking Lisa still slept, and softly replied, “What, babe?”

  Lisa started crying again. “I didn’t want grandpa to die.”

  Carol went back to the room and sat on the side of the bed. “I know you didn’t, honey, but we can’t usually control that kind of thing.”

  Lisa sat up and put her arms around Carol’s neck. “Why couldn’t God have let him stay just a little bit longer?”

  “Maybe God was ready for him to live in heaven. Grandpa will have so much fun up there, sweetie. We don’t have to worry about him not feeling good anymore.” Carol felt tears in the back of her throat.

  “What if God wants you or daddy to come live with Him, too?” Lisa demanded. The panic in her voice was real, and Carol thought very carefully before she answered the question.

  “I think God knows it takes both of us to take care of you right now, babe.”

  Lisa leaned back on her elbows. “But one day, you’re going to die just like grandpa, aren’t you?”

  Carol ran a hand down Lisa’s hair, wishing that at least this once she thought like a normal eight-year-old. “The Bible says there’s a time to live and a time to die. Everyone does, honey. Everyone lives and everyone dies. So I will too, one day. So will your dad. I hope it’s a long time from now, when you’re all grown up like me.”

  Lisa’s lower lip quivered. “I hope so, too.”

  Carol leaned over and kissed her. “Now, lie back down and try to sleep. We had a really long night.”

  She sat there until Lisa fell asleep, then tiptoed out of the room and went down to her office. She was supposed to be in court in three hours and had to make arrangements with Maurice. Rhonda hadn’t returned her texts, and she didn’t want to risk not having someone cover for her.

  She found his home number and dialed, hoping that he’d be awake. When his wife answered, she identified herself and asked to speak with him.

  “What’s wrong, Carol?” he asked as soon as he came on the line.

  “Lisa’s grandfather passed away early this morning. I’ve been at the hospital all night and I have court at ten.”

  “With what judge?”

  “Adams. Can you help me out?”

  “I can give you his number. Call him and explain your situation. He won’t want to hear it from me.”

  Carol took the number down and hung up the phone, then rested her head in her hands, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She heard a movement behind her and turned to see Bobby standing in the doorway.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Carol picked up the phone and punched out the number just given to her. “My whole little organized world is crumbling around me,” she said. “A year ago I told my best friend that maybe my life needed a little disrupting. I’ve changed my mind.” She listened to the other end ring three times, then someone finally answered. She asked for Judge Adams, and had to wait three minutes b
efore he picked up the phone.

  She explained her situation to him in full detail, and asked that the case be moved to the next day. “This is your father-in-law?” he asked.

  “He would have been if I’d been married to his son,” Carol said.

  “So, you aren’t married to the father of your child?”

  “No, sir,” Carol said, her teeth gritted.

  “Well, your daughter doesn’t know the difference, does she? And a grieving child needs her mama. You have your continuance. Tell you what, call my office later today, and we’ll try to find a place in the docket where we can fit this case in, Counselor. ”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll do that,” Carol said, and hung up the phone.

  “Now, go to bed,” Bobby said.

  “Nothing can stop me.” She walked by him, but paused just inside the doorway. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I wish there was something that could have been done.”

  “Me too,” he said. “Go lie down. I’ll stay here in case Lisa wakes up, then take her over to my house.”

  “You haven’t slept either,” Carol challenged.

  “No, but I’m okay. I don’t have court in the morning.” He brushed her cheek, mimicking Henry’s earlier action, then nudged her shoulder. “Go to bed. Set your alarm for whatever time you want to wake up.”

  Carol closed her bedroom door, stripped down to her underwear, and collapsed on her bed. She fell asleep almost instantly.

  CHAPTER 19

  Personal Journal Entry

  May 2

  It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  I had to kill her. She knew, so I couldn’t go back.

  She realized my power of persuasion and started fighting it. Something triggered an instinct in her, and I had to force the drug into her. After that, after the physical struggle, it just didn’t feel right anymore.