by Sally John
“Uh, yes. My car’s in the shop, but they offered me a loaner. What time would it be?”
“That’s the problem. I’m hoping you can be flexible. If things go badly, it could be two o’clock. If things go not so badly, it could be later, perhaps much later.”
She leaned back, away from the computer keyboard. “You’re saying things are going to go badly, it’s just a matter of degree?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask why Adele isn’t calling me?”
A hesitation. “She doesn’t know yet.”
“Doesn’t know what yet?”
Another hesitation. “She’s going to receive some difficult information. She may blame me for it. She may not want me to drive her home, and Chelsea isn’t available.”
Kate knew Chelsea planned to visit a friend today at a college located an hour’s drive away. Adele, friends with the girl’s family from church, granted Chelsea permission to take the van and spend the night.
“Kate, I know it’s a lot to ask. I can give you a call if and when she needs you.”
“Is your real name Graham Logan?”
That hesitation. The guy was an expert at weighing his words. “Yes, it is.”
“But you’re not a professor at Northwestern?”
“No comment.”
“Is there a story in this?”
“Can’t you just do this as Adele’s friend?” He lost his moderate tone. “Not as a reporter?”
Tanner’s words echoed in her mind. You treat people like projects, like news stories.
“Look, Kate, I love Adele. No ifs, ands, or buts. Her best interests are at stake here. I’m simply trying to cover all the bases, and I need your help.”
“All right. Give me a call if and when you need me.”
Work on the Times abandoned, Kate soon lost herself in cyberspace. At last she discovered something.
The article was in a Newark, New Jersey, newspaper dated five years ago last month.
Samantha Logan, 35, was pronounced dead at the scene outside her townhouse, the apparent victim of a single gunshot wound to the head. Though her husband, FBI agent Graham Logan, was in the vicinity at the time of the shooting, he was unharmed by the unseen sniper, who is still at large…
FBI agent, not professor.
New Jersey, not Chicago.
Rand Jennings from Maryland. Baltimore?
Adele Chandler from Baltimore.
What were the connections?
Tanner’s voice again, hands on hips, his beautiful deep brown eyes narrowed at her…
The question was not what were the connections. Rather, she should ask, how hurt was her friend going to be by the information? What could Kate do to help?
She grabbed her cell phone and coat and headed out the door. She’d better hoof it over to the garage and pick up that car they had offered to loan her.
As they walked across Fox Meadow’s parking lot, Adele let go of Graham’s arm. It was Saturday, and she was at the nursing home on pleasure, not to work. Still, in her own mind she was always on duty. It didn’t seem quite proper for the director to waltz about the property on the arm of a good-looking guy whose friend was a resident.
Graham smiled down at her. “Remember when you told me it would get easier, my coming here?”
She nodded.
“It has. And not just because you’re here. It’s Rand’s home, the one he chose. It’s not a particularly happy place, but it’s real life, isn’t it?”
“It is. And there is a joy here, when someone smiles back and you know your hearts have connected.”
“Afraid I’m not there yet. Not at saint status like you are.”
“But don’t forget. You are a guardian angel.”
He laughed.
It was good to be able to tease about that remark. Their friendship had eased into a daily crossing of paths at Fox Meadow. Every other night or so they shared dinner. When Adele didn’t cook, he treated her at a restaurant. Sometimes Chelsea accompanied them.
Adele kept a distance between them, tried to keep her heart from totally succumbing. Rand was holding up remarkably well, but his death was inevitable. Graham’s life would snag him right out of Valley Oaks. She couldn’t imagine either one of them pulling up roots. It didn’t help any that the vague future was one of those subjects he avoided. It was as if he was waiting to get through his friend’s death before committing to anything.
But that he cared for her was evident. For now it would have to be enough.
They entered Rand’s room. He sat in his favorite spot, near the window.
“Hello, young’uns.”
“Hi, Rand.” She greeted him with a kiss. As Graham’s “other dad,” he was a notch above most residents. Since learning that he was her benefactor, he had risen even above that. She settled into the armchair beside his wheelchair. “How are they treating you today?”
“Heather wants to elope with me,” he said, chuckling.
She joined in his laughter. “What did you promise her?”
“Rubies and diamonds.”
“You know her well.”
“I think well enough for an elopement.”
She looked at Graham. His head was buried in the armoire. He appeared to be searching for something.
“Addie.”
The childhood nickname didn’t startle her anymore. “What?”
“You know I won’t be around much longer.” His voice was more breathless than usual.
“I know. But we will meet again.”
He nodded. “I have something for you.”
“Rand, for goodness’ sake, you’ve already given me the moon.”
“This is just a little something extra.” He looked up at Graham, who stood at the bed, opening a briefcase on it.
He fished out a paper and looked back at him. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment.
Graham turned to her. “Adele, this could be…upsetting for you.”
His tone was one she’d never heard before. It was devoid of emotion.
“Rand and I both want to apologize beforehand. Please remember we care very much about you. It may not appear so at first, but we have only your best in mind.”
She felt herself tense. Her stomach lurched and then sank with the feel of a deadweight. Something wasn’t right.
Graham handed her a piece of paper that looked like a legal document and sat on the edge of the bed, just behind and to the side of Rand’s chair. They both faced her. “This is the deed to your property. Rand’s making it an outright gift, not an investment. It’s yours, to do with whatever you choose.”
She held the paper, shifting her gaze back and forth between them. What were they up to? At last Graham’s words sank in and she exclaimed, “You already bought it?”
Rand gave that half nod of his.
“Why?”
“I…wanted…” Rand paused for breaths between his words. “Wanted you…to have a head start…No payments.”
She studied him closely. His pallor was gray. He shouldn’t be sitting up. In spite of his efforts to promote a different image, he wasn’t having a good day. Rather than fuss at him, she looked down at the paper.
And then the room began to spin.
R.J. Chandler…conveys and warrants to Adele Christine Chandler…the following-described real estate…
R.J. Chandler!
The familiar half nod. The hint of a Baltimore accent. That catch in his laugh. The way he called her Addie.
“No,” she whispered.
Graham said, “Yes.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No way!”
“Addie.” Rand’s soft voice was barely audible. “I am sor—”
“No!”
Graham knelt in front of her. “Adele.”
She pushed away his hands. “He’s not my father! My father is tall. He weighs two hundred and fifty pounds. He has black hair. He doesn’t wear glasses.” Their faces receded, drowned in the tears flooding her eyes. “
He didn’t even know how to smile at me, let alone—” Her throat closed, choking off the words. She waved a hand to fill in the blanks. So many blanks.
“Adele, he loves you.”
“No!” As if watching herself from afar, she saw herself gasping for breath and losing control, sobbing, nearing hysteria. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t run from it.
“Shh. It’ll be okay.”
She cried unabashedly now. It was too much to comprehend.
Graham knelt helplessly before her, watching her cry it out, praying she would get past the shock, past the denial. From behind him, Randall Jefferson Chandler’s hand trembled on his shoulder. Graham knew tears were streaming down the old man’s face. He couldn’t turn around and watch. If Adele refused to forgive her father— He didn’t want to consider the repercussions on all three of them.
He had stepped out into the hall and called Kate, asking her to come and wait in the lobby. Things were going badly. Well, what had he expected? Exactly what he was looking at. Not that it made it any easier. But what had been their choice? There hadn’t been another.
It was a little late to second-guess. Besides, they had considered and reconsidered ad nauseam ever since the cancer had first been diagnosed. What was done was done.
He handed her a box of tissues. Her face was beet red. Great sobs racked her body, and he longed to hold her.
Tears filled his own eyes. He wanted to die and be spared the knowledge that he had caused this.
Several minutes passed before her crying slowed. Her breathing was ragged. “Why didn’t you come sooner?” Her voice was a raw whisper, her tone accusatory. “Ten years ago? Five years ago? Anytime before now?”
Graham heard the implication. Now meaning before he was on his deathbed.
Rand said, “I wasn’t ready.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Rand nudged Graham’s shoulder. The old man didn’t have the breath for the long answer, and so Graham began, “We couldn’t just walk in and announce it. With all the baggage between you two, we thought there was a good chance you’d turn us away.”
“You could have called or written! Given me a warning!” She addressed her words to her father. She hadn’t yet taken her eyes from him.
Graham went on, “There wasn’t time. At first he was too ill from the chemotherapy and the radiation. When the treatments were no longer beneficial, we had to move quickly. He thought his best chance of winning your forgiveness was for you to get to know him as you would a complete stranger. As if you’d never known him before.”
Fresh tears streamed down her face. “You are a complete stranger! You don’t resemble R.J. Chandler in the least!”
Rand said simply, “Thank God.”
Graham waited while she cried silently. “Adele, he also wanted time to get to know you and Chelsea. To find out what he could do for you. To try to make up for the lost years.”
“And so you bought me something.” She wiped her tears and took a deep breath. “Money always did cover a multitude of sins. The thing is…” She stood clumsily, stepping around Graham. “It would have been more acceptable from a stranger.”
He stood and intervened before she said anything else she would later regret. “Adele, you need some time to sort through all this. Why don’t you go home?”
She nodded and looked down at Rand. “It’s too much. I don’t know you. I—”
Graham touched her elbow, intent on ushering her out before Rand started sobbing. “Kate will pick you up.”
“Kate?”
They walked to the door. “I asked her if she’d be available. I figured there was a chance I wouldn’t be driving you home.”
Adele stared at him. “I don’t know you either, do I?”
Before he could open the door, she had it yanked back and was rushing down the hallway.
Kate leaned against the nondescript sedan parked in the circular drive at Fox Meadow’s main entrance. She studied the low brick building and its pretty yard. Yellow tulips and daffodils waved gaily. The place looked like Adele’s home.
She saw her coming now, through the glass doors. At least she thought it was Adele.
The woman was out the automatic door before it was completely open. Her face was contorted, her eyes red and swollen. Something dreadful must have happened.
“Adele?”
“Will you take me home?”
“Of course. Get in.” She walked around to the driver’s side.
Her friend remained silent until they had driven out to the highway and were going 55 miles per hour. Her breath more or less shuddered through her. “Kate, I’m sorry. I’ve just been through… I have no idea how to describe it. I don’t have a clue who Graham Logan is. And Rand Jennings…” Another shudder. “Rand Jennings is really R.J. Chandler. My father.”
Kate stared at her until the car began to drift toward the shoulder.
Adele was rambling. “He came from Baltimore, not Chicago! How did they do it? All that paperwork? Names, dates, doctors, hospitals. They must have forged it all! How would they know how to do that? How did they get away with it?”
“Whoa! Back up. Graham’s friend is your father?”
“He says he is. He doesn’t resemble the man I knew eighteen years ago in any way, shape, or form. My father is a huge, overbearing prig. That man in there is small and charming and one of the kindest men I have ever met. And he loves Jesus.”
The two images didn’t compute in Kate’s mind. She couldn’t imagine how Adele was reconciling them in hers.
“Adele, he loves Jesus.”
She turned a dazed face toward her.
“Which means Jesus obviously, totally changed him from the man you once knew. Wow. That’s truly awesome. Isn’t God awesome? Beyond anything we can think or imagine! To see such an outright, black-and-white—” One glance at Adele cut off her ecstatic stream. “Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think! I’m angry he didn’t come sooner. Why didn’t he change eighteen years ago? Why didn’t he tell me even last month? Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Forgive him?”
“I did. A long time ago.” And then she began to cry.
Saturday afternoon Tanner sat in his little glassed-in office behind the store’s checkout counter. Betsy was in the front room, glued to the video playing on a television suspended from the ceiling. There were a few people browsing through video titles, a few young teens playing Ping-Pong in the back room. Things were running smoothly as he reorganized his desktop.
For the third time since calling his dad three hours ago.
Kate would be proud of him for making that call. He imagined her elfin demeanor, her voice cheering him on. “Oh, Tanner! It’s an act of forgiveness!”
He wanted Kate to be proud of him. He wanted to have a clean slate before her because in spite of his accusations to her last night, she was nearly perfect. In many ways, but most of all in the fact that she could lay her head down at night with no regrets. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
But it wasn’t only her voice he sensed. There was a new inner voice within him. When he was quiet long enough, he could feel it, like an air current lifting him along, steering him a direction he hadn’t considered. It was the source of that voice that he wanted to please even more than Kate.
And so he had called his father, because he knew somewhere in the core of his being it was the right thing to do.
Forty-five minutes later when the man himself walked through the door, Tanner battled the usual instant reaction. Like a wave of solar heat, shame rolled over him, creating a burning sensation about his ears.
His dad wore pressed black slacks, a crisp white shirt under a gray tweed sport coat, and a proud expression. Brows raised, he remained just inside the door, eyeing the place with sweeping glances. Here, Kate, is the original Mr. Macho Cool.
Tanner couldn’t shake the old feeling, but he stood and went out to greet him. Passing Betsy, he aske
d her to turn down the video.
“Dad. Hi.”
“Hi, Tanner.” He shook his hand. “You are out in the boondocks, aren’t you?”
“It’s a world unto itself. Bet you didn’t have any trouble finding the store, though.” He smiled.
“No chance of getting lost in this town.” He chuckled.
“Well,” he spread his arms, “this is your investment. How about the grand tour? Over here,” he stepped to the front door, “we have a handy-dandy return slot. Videos can be returned twenty-four, seven.” He led his dad up and down the three short aisles, pointing at the racks, mimicking a tour guide’s tone of voice. “Videos are organized by category. Here’s drama, comedy—”
“Dr. Carlucci!” A short, round-cheeked elderly woman greeted them. “You probably don’t remember me. Edna Harmon.”
His father shook her hand. “Of course I remember you. We took care of that nasty tumor in your abdomen. How are you?”
The woman beamed. “Never better. It’s been four years.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“This young man must be your son. He looks like a younger version of you.”
“Yes. This is Tanner. He owns the store.”
She shook Tanner’s hand. “Well, you have a lovely place here. I never liked coming in when that other owner was around. He was a rather unpleasant man. Your selection is much better too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harmon.”
“Call me Edna. Have a good day. Bye now.”
Tanner walked her to the door and opened it. “Come back again.”
“Oh, I will.”
He rejoined his father, who was introducing himself to Betsy. The man knew how to be gracious. They stepped into the office.
In the past, the compliment on the tip of Tanner’s tongue would have stayed there. But the exchange with Edna Harmon had mellowed his dad, making him seem approachable. “Dad, you’re amazing. Remembering Edna after all these years.”
Sidney, hands stuffed in his pockets, jingled change, and did a 360 turn. “Oh, it comes with the territory. Patients are my bread and butter. Like your customers.”
“Supplying videos is hardly on the same level as performing life-saving surgery.”