by Moriah Jovan
“Susan,” I said without preamble when I turned around and called her right back. “Have a couple of tech guys meet me in Mobile on Tuesday morning, and get me some lawyers on retainer down there. The usual collection, but make sure at least one has some decent criminal law experience.”
“Uh oh,” she said absently while she typed. “Somebody’s going to jail.”
“Never hurts to be prepared for all contingencies.”
Not ten minutes after that, I got a call from Prissy.
“So your first duty as bishop’s wife is to go take a book to a sister in the hospital who is now blind and read to her.”
My stomach dropped into my pelvic girdle. “Uh...”
“It’s not a calling, Cassie, and it’s not official. It’s just something nice you can do and I didn’t figure anybody would tell you about it, all things considered.”
“Won’t the Relief Society do that?”
“They’ll take care of feeding her family and getting the children babysat and to school and whatnot. We tend to focus more on the pragmatic and not so much on just keeping someone company. There are a lot of different levels of service and sometimes the littlest, most mundane things get overlooked in favor of the more visible. After I had Calvin, I was really sick and Louise called me the night I delivered him to make me laugh. Once I got home, she just showed up one day with a cherry limeade to talk and make me laugh some more. It was all I needed. I will never forget her kindness as long as I live. I can’t remember who brought food, but I do remember that.”
Oh. Interesting. “Okay.”
Mitch was in his lab and would not be disturbed, so I wrote a note and left it with his assistant. Then I went to do one of the most draining things I have ever done.
“Sister Reyes? Lena? I’m Cassie Hollander.” The “Hollander” rolled off my tongue as if I’d been saying it for years instead of for the first time ever.
She was young, too young for the neurosurgery that had taken her sight, a surgery necessary to give her a chance to live longer. That was the hope, anyway.
Her brow wrinkled above her sightless eyes, as if by squinting she could see me. I tapped the back of her hand lightly, and she took it, grasped it as if she would never let go. “Cassie Hollander? I didn’t know Mitch had relatives in the area.”
“I’m his wife. As of last month.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, how wonderful.”
“Thanks. Um, I’m kind of new at this bishop’s wife stuff. I brought books to read to you in case—”
“No, please. Just talk to me. Tell me how you met Mitch.”
I was only a few halting sentences into it when something I said—“salsa dancing at Cubax”—made her start to cry, then her fears began to bubble over.
And, as I had done for years, I simply listened, long into the evening, then night. It was nineish when Mitch walked into the room quietly, in a suit, his second counselor following closely behind. They sat, Mitch drawing up a chair to sit beside me and hold my other hand, twining his fingers with mine.
After a moment, she stopped speaking abruptly and wiped her eyes. “Who’s there?”
“Bishop Hollander, Lena. Brother Noble. Your husband asked us to come and give you a blessing.”
A what?
I looked at Mitch questioningly. He mouthed, “Watch,” and arose to stand on one side of her bed while Brother Noble went around to the other side.
It was a ritual like faith-healing, but not. The other man took out a small vial attached to his key ring and put a small drop of what seemed to be oil on the crown of her head, rubbed it in a little, then he placed both his hands on her head. Mitch placed his hands over Brother Noble’s. They bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Brother Noble said a few words that sounded ritualistic, but then he was done and they lifted their hands—only to change places. Mitch laid his hands on her head, while Brother Noble placed his on Mitch’s.
And he began to speak to her.
My breath came short at his low voice, what he said, how he said it, with a lyricism and poetry I didn’t know he was capable of. He didn’t promise her the return of her sight or a long life. He didn’t promise her anything at all, much less healing, much less a miracle.
He reassured her of the Lord’s love and protection for her family, advised her to accept all the help she was given, as it was from the Lord, and to make an effort to learn how to live without her sight. He wanted her to use the other senses the Lord had given her, to find ways to bless others through her adversity, to let go of any bitterness she might have.
He then instructed her to learn how to dance blind, to trust her husband to partner her well, and let the music into her soul to guide her feet.
I bowed my head, humbled to my core, feeling terribly petty that I’d found fault with his garments.
Mitch finished with a ritualistic close, then stopped talking in that beautiful syntax. Now he talked to her normally, asked her how she was doing, if she needed someone to stay the night with her.
“No,” she said, laughing a little through her tears. “I’ve taken up enough of Cassie’s time, crying all over her, feeling sorry for myself.”
He cast me a quick, warm smile, but turned his attention back to her. “You’re allowed. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else. I’ll stop by tomorrow sometime to check on you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, so grateful, so reassured. He hadn’t said anything to assuage the fears she had poured out to me, but she seemed to believe he had. “Thank you, Cassie. Go on home now. I’ll be okay.”
Another round of quick hugs and Mitch and I walked hand-in-hand through the hospital and out to the parking lot without speaking. I pointed to where I’d parked and he handed me in without a word, that warm smile still on his face when he reached out to touch my face with the pad of his thumb, then put it to his mouth as if he were tasting something. Then he murmured, “See you at home.”
I was in our bedroom and nearly undressed when I heard him come in the front door and shed his keys and wallet on the front foyer table where he always left them. Then I heard his footsteps on the stairs, then coming down the hall to our bedroom. I found myself holding my breath, waiting for the moment he would come in and wrap his arms around me...
...and released it in a whoosh when he did exactly that. He hummed into my neck, my jaw, as he kissed and licked and nibbled. He said nothing as he finished undressing me, helped me undress him, drew me into bed and made love to me with a tenderness beyond anything I’d known, even from him.
Bishop Hollander asked nothing from me but to lie back and be pleasured and he did oh so well as if he’d had years and years of practice with me, knowing exactly what to touch and how.
Three weeks.
It had taken three weeks for him to become the most perfect lover I had ever had.
* * * * *
If We Work Hard, If We Behave
April 10, 2011
A ringing phone in the middle of the night never brings anything good, especially if the ringtone belongs to one’s teenage stepson who is supposed to be home in bed.
I snapped out of sleep and snatched the phone to my ear, mid-“Allentown.”
“Trevor?”
“Cassie!” After that one word, the boy launched into a panicked rendition of...something. He was hyperventilating, about to cry, and the only words I could pick out were Hayleigh Sitkaris and accident.
My heart stopped.
“Trevor. Trevor! TREVOR!” I shouted, and was finally able to get him to listen to me. “Where are you?”
“I’m— Um... Uh... I don’t know, um... I couldn’t— I tried the mill— My dad, I...”
Mitch was at the foundry casting ingots and wouldn’t be home for hours.
I heard the faint wail of sirens. “Trevor, focus. Listen to my voice. Can you see the ambulance?”
“No. Only hear.”
“If they ask you if you want to go to the hospital, say yes and go w
ith them. I’ll meet you there. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
Trevor, he made me I’m sorry he made me I’m sorry please forgive me Trevor I didn’t want to he made meTrevorI’msosorry
What the fuck? Whose slurred voice was that?
Sit down or something, Hayleigh... Right here’s good...
“Trevor!”
The siren abruptly stopped, and I could hear the clank of doors and gurneys, the shouts of paramedics.
He didn’t answer. I tried again. “Trevor! Is Hayleigh there right now?”
“She did this,” he said vaguely, as if he weren’t quite conscious. “She— I— Hit her.”
I didn’t want to do it Trevor you have to believe me he made me do it please believe me
I believe you don’t worry
“Did you hit your head?”
“Yeah. Think so. Windshield cracked. Um...” His piece of shit truck was so old it didn’t have airbags. “Hayleigh’s hurt, too.”
There was a rustle and a thump, a grunt, and a clatter that hurt my ear.
“Trevor!”
No answer.
Trevor Trevor please wake up Trevor please help him he won’t wake up please help us
I couldn’t breathe.
Miss, don’t worry about him. We’ve got it under control.
But he— I didn’t want to he made me do it please help Trevor please ohTrevorwakeup!
Come with us, miss. We’ll tend to—Trevor?
Yespleasehelpus
“Hello? Who’s this?”
I blinked, shocked at the female voice in my ear. “The boy’s stepmother. Cassie Hollander. You’re the EMT?”
“Yes. We’re taking him and the girl to Lehigh Valley Hospital.”
The line went dead.
I glanced at the clock as I threw on some clothes and slapped a ball cap on my head. Almost one a.m.
Car.
Trevor had called the mill, but I didn’t know if he’d spoken to anyone who could get Mitch the message. It would be pointless for me to try.
GPS.
I refused to think about anything beyond getting to the hospital, but my heart thundered.
Hospital.
I walked in that place like I owned it. “Where is my son?” I demanded.
The emergency room clerk was not impressed. “And...you would be?”
“Cassie Hollander, looking for Trevor Hollander. How is he?”
Hollander Steelworks: The biggest employer in Lehigh Valley. It got her attention and she signaled to a nurse.
“He’s getting a CT scan at the moment,” she said. “You’ll need to do the paperwork, but you can do that in his assigned room.”
Ah, no privacy hassles, then. Either the EMT or Trevor had let them know to expect me.
They had me fill out innumerable papers. I knew he was on the mill’s insurance, but I didn’t have that information and I’d just pay the damn bill anyway.
Soon he was wheeled into the room, and I helped the nurse get him into bed. He was in a hospital gown with a bandage on his forehead, and we struggled because he was half asleep and couldn’t help. He gave me a wan smile.
“So,” I said briskly as I drew up a chair. “You and I are going car shopping this week.” And Hayleigh Sitkaris was getting out of that house.
I held up my hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “I know you love your truck because you bought it with your own money, and that shows you aren’t a trust-fund brat and you’re proud of that. But it’s worthless now and I won’t have you going without airbags. If you or your father have a problem with that, you can both kiss my ass.”
He started to laugh, but then groaned and clutched his head.
“The cops are here. Have you talked to them yet?”
He shook his head and went to sleep. I know it’s an old wives’ tale about letting people with head injuries go to sleep, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to keep him awake. Ah, but the police took that decision out of my hands when they showed up to interview him. He wasn’t in critical condition and they had no compunction about requiring him to think and speak to them.
The tale was slow to emerge, but Trevor made an effort to work through his haze and articulate it with some logic.
He’d left Scarlett’s dorm around twelve-thirty and was driving down I-78 at a good clip when someone zipped past him, slipped into the lane in front of him, and stomped on the brakes.
“You know the other driver, I take it?” the officer asked Trevor matter-of-factly.
“Yes,” he croaked. “She—” He cleared his throat. Took a drink. “She was following me. Waiting for me to come out of the dorm. She’s been following me around for the last week or so, I guess.”
It was the first time I’ve ever wanted to kill someone badly enough to think about doing it, but not Hayleigh.
No.
I knew whose hand was up the back of that poor little poppet.
“I saw her—watched her, I mean, go around me. I slowed down when I figured out what she was going to do.”
“How fast were you going, do you think?”
“I was doing a little over seventy when she passed me. Had to slam on my brakes.”
“So when you hit her, how fast do you think you were going?”
“Maybe forty-five, fifty.”
And hit her hard enough to send his head into the windshield and crack it. If he’d been going any faster—
The officers traded glances. They didn’t believe him. Now. They would when they did the calculations.
It was a wonder the boy wasn’t dead.
Oh, my God.
If he had—
Mitch—
My husband and I could take care of ourselves, but this was our child lying on the bed in front of me with a concussion, lucky to be alive much less lucid.
“Ma’am?” I looked up to see one of the officers offering me a box of tissues.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
They didn’t bother to ask about intoxication. The nurse had checked his blood alcohol level when he was brought in and, no surprise to me, he hadn’t had a drop.
“Anything else you want to cough up?”
“Well,” he reluctantly admitted. “I was really tired.”
They cited him. Left. Trevor fell asleep and I went in search of Hayleigh’s room.
She lay on the bed and when I entered, she turned her face to the wall, away from me.
“Hayleigh,” I murmured.
She hiccuped and put her hand to her nose, but still wouldn’t look at me. I could only sit beside her and the second I touched her other hand, to wrap it in mine, she burst out in sobs.
“I want to help you get away.”
It took a while, but her sobs started to clear up, letting me know she’d heard me and understood. She couldn’t control the residual hiccups. “Wh—why?” she whispered. “I did a—an evil thi—thing.”
“I don’t believe you to be responsible for that.”
“I shou—should’ve—could’ve said no.”
I sighed. Unless this girl got years of therapy, beginning now, she would always ascribe youth and powerlessness to weakness, no matter what I said.
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”
“I have nowhere else to go,” she whispered. Her hiccups were subsiding. “He would find me. He always does.”
Ah, so she’d tried. And failed. I wondered if Mitch knew that.
“What if I were to send you somewhere? Somewhere you’d be safe, with people who can protect you?”
“No one can protect me,” she said tonelessly.
“Look at me,” I said in my boardroom voice, which had compelled some of the most important people in the country to obey—never mind one broken little girl. “There are more powerful people in the world than your father.”
She paused, as if the thought had never occurred to her. “But everyone likes him. No one would ever believe me.”
“I believe you. The bishop believes you. Sister Kelly and Sister Seaton believe you.”
Even though Hayleigh regarded me with some suspicion, her body began to relax. “But—”
“But. You don’t know the people I know.”
“Where would you send me?”
“My ex-husband.” If anyone could heal a teenage girl’s soul, it would be Gordon. “His husband, Nigel.”
Her eyes widened at the unconventional phrasing, and she gulped.
“You trust Bishop Hollander?”
“Yes,” she breathed with a fervency that let me know just how much she depended on him.
“Enough to trust the woman he married?”
She gulped. “I think—yes. What about my mother?”
“Let’s worry about you first, and then we’ll worry about your mother.” After all, Hayleigh could have been killed, and Greg would have known that. I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t take Hayleigh’s disappearance out on Amelia, but this was a desperate moment.
“Um... How’s Trevor?” It cost her to ask, but she needed to know.
“He’s fine. Just sleeping it off right now.”
It was as if the air had been let out of her. “Oh, I’m so glad.”
“I’m going to leave now and make some calls. Will you be okay?”
“I think so.”
Prissy first. “I’ll call Louise,” she said briskly once I’d finished outlining my plan. “With any luck, we can get Amelia out tomorrow.”
Gordon next. “Of course,” he said immediately.
“Hoping to get the mother there in the next few days.”
Sheldon last. “I’ll be right there, Ms. St. James.”
“She’ll need food and blankets.”
“I’ll take good care of her.”
My work was done.
Fast.
Trevor was still dozing when I seated myself beside his bed. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the floor for a long time, deliberately keeping my mind clear.
“Well, well, well.”
I looked up to see Sitkaris in the doorway.
“New mommy to the rescue. Where’s Mitch?”
“Not here,” I murmured. “I guess you’ll have to settle for fucking around with me instead. For a price.”