He was leaning forward, his head resting on the seat in front of him. His shoulders shook and at first I thought he was crying, but then I saw his mouth open and close, and I knew he was yelling, or talking, or screaming. I couldn’t hear him; all I could hear was Abe. The terrible noise still streamed from his mouth.
I looked to Fay, wishing I had two sets of arms so I could hug her too, thankful that my mom’s arms held her in my place. Fay had her phone pressed to her ear. I hoped she was calling the Dearings. If anyone could fix this, it would be Marigold Dearing.
Time didn’t seem to be moving at the normal speed. Everything was happening so fast. The people behind the car lifted a board with my aunt strapped to it. They carried it to the back of the ambulance and lifted her inside. Fay begged to be allowed to ride along, and they agreed that she could.
Before she climbed in, she ran over to me. “Celia, I’ll meet you there. I called Paul, and he’s coming to get you.” I blinked. Paul. I wanted Paul. The ambulance pulled away, and the police car containing my father left, too, traveling in the other direction. Several officers still milled around, and two of them talked to my mother, who still sat in the grass behind our car.
Only a heartbeat later, Paul’s black truck pulled up in front of my house and he jumped out. A sob rose in my throat and I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He gathered me close and clutched me tight enough to hold in all my fears.
Paul led me to his truck and helped me climb in, and then he went to my mother. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, but she led Abe over and they both piled into the truck after me. “The officer said they’d send someone to the hospital to take our statements,” Mom said as she buckled her seatbelt. She was breathing fast, and I could see the shaking of her hands and hear the tremble in her voice, but she had a determined look on her face.
“I don’t have a statement,” I said. “I wasn’t even there.”
“I have one,” said Abe. It was the first he’d spoken. “I have a statement. It was my fault.”
39
Paul held out a bag of chips and a candy bar, but Celia shook her head. “I still can’t eat.” He held it out for Abe, who shook his head, too. It had been a long night. They had taken over the waiting room. Paul let his eyes wander around the room, which held Celia and Abe and their mom, Malcolm and both his parents, and Fay. Even Heidi had been in at one point, toting a bag of hamburgers with her that only Paul and Malcolm had eaten.
Fay’s mom had been in surgery for over two hours. Her spleen was ruptured, and since the bleeding was severe, she had to have it removed. Her liver was also damaged—the doctor called it a grade two, moderate hepatic injury. She didn’t need surgery for that, but did require close observation. Other than that, she only had bruising, a broken nose, and skin abrasions. She was going to be okay.
Across the room, Fay sat leaning against Malcolm. Celia hadn’t talked to her much since they’d arrived at the hospital. She had mostly withdrawn into herself. Her mom had done the same.
The police had come and gone, taking statements from everyone who had been there. Abe didn’t want to talk, but with the support of his mom and both Marigold and Lyle Dearing, he ended up telling them that his aunt had been over for a visit , and his dad came home drunk. There’d been an argument, his dad ran outside and got in the car, and his mom and aunt ran after him to stop him from driving drunk. Abe had watched from the porch, and he guessed his dad put the car in reverse instead of drive.
Before the police left, Celia asked them where her dad was. They said he was still at the police station. He’d have his blood alcohol content tested, and then he’d be booked into jail.
They asked Mrs. Young if she had any questions, and she had given them a firm look, her hands squeezing the armrests of her chair, and said, “I don’t have questions. But if I need to come in and press charges or if there’s anything I can do to make sure he serves time, you let me know and I’ll do it.”
Olive’s surgeon had come out not long ago to tell everyone she was in recovery, but couldn’t have visitors for a little while. Then she’d be in the ICU for at least twenty-four hours. Paul sat down in the chair beside Celia, where he’d been all evening. He reached over and grabbed her hand, something else he’d been doing all evening.
Abe stood up then, and paced around the perimeter of the room, his hands behind his head. After two trips around the room, he said, “I need to stretch my legs,” and walked out the door.
“Do you want me to go talk to him?” Malcolm offered.
“Let him have his space,” Mrs. Young said.
“Once he sees for himself that his aunt is okay, he will probably feel a lot better,” Marigold said.
Mrs. Young dipped her head down low, and folded further in on herself.
Celia lowered her head, too, and Paul nudged her with his elbow. “Hey. You okay?” He could see her cheeks moving as she worked to keep tears from falling. He stood and pulled her to standing. “Let’s get some air.”
Keeping her hand tucked in his, she allowed him to lead her down the hallway and to a bench in a quiet corner. “Talk to me.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes searching his. “I don’t know if I should say it out loud. What I’m thinking is awful.”
“You can say anything to me. Even the awful things.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “My mind keeps turning over whether it was an accident or not. What if he did it on purpose?” After that confession, she dropped her head to his chest. He rubbed small circles on her lower back, and kissed her hair. Her body shook as she cried quietly into his shirt. “Even if it was an accident, Fay might never forgive us.”
“Fay loves you. Nothing will change that.”
“This is the kind of thing that tears families apart. And I need her, Paul. And Aunt Olive. I need them.”
He continued to soothe her until her tears subsided. She sat up to wipe her eyes when they both saw a nurse enter the waiting room. She jumped up and he followed her down the hall.
“Two of you may go see her at a time. I’ll show you where her room is,” the nurse was saying as they walked in. Everyone looked to Fay, but Fay looked to Celia’s mom. “Aunt Donna, will you come with me?”
Donna looked up at Fay, her eyes uncertain, and swallowed. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I need you. I need my family right now. And Mom will want to see your face right away.” She looked at Celia. “And you and Abe should get to visit her next.” She hugged Celia before leaving the room with Donna and the nurse.
Celia squeezed Paul’s hand and looked up at him with a tentative smile. “Will you help me find Abe? Help me talk to him?”
Abe sat on the ground in the courtyard between two large boxwoods, leaning against the red brick of the hospital. Paul could only see the top of his hair and his legs from the knees down. He remembered being that age, and saying he wanted space when something bad happened, when really he only said he did because he was sure nobody would come.
Paul and Celia walked across the grass and pushed their way into the bushes, each taking a seat on either side of Abe. He grumbled as they pressed in on him.
“She has to stay here for at least a week, but she’s okay,” Paul said. “She’s really going to be fine. And you and Celia are next in line to get to go see her.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded.
“Abe, I know you think this is your fault, but it isn’t,” Celia said.
His head dropped down and he covered his face with his hands. He sat quietly like that for a couple minutes, until he ran his hands up and through his hair.
“Abe, talk to us,” Paul said.
“I…” He pressed his fists into his eyes. “Celia, I’m so sorry,” he squeaked out before collapsing into sobs. She wrapped her arms around him, and Paul put his arms on top of hers, encasing him in a double hug.
When all his tears were spent, he sat back up and pushed their arms away. �
��Dad found the box with the money in it that we were saving for Mom’s school. Not just the money, Celia, you know the application for school was in there, too.”
Celia looked at Paul over Abe’s head, her eyes wide.
“That’s not really true. He didn’t just find it. I left it out. Mr. Zellner paid me eleven dollars to sweep out his car, and I put ten dollars in the box, and left to go buy a candy bar with the other dollar. I guess I left the box out on my bed. I have no idea why he went in my room, anyway. He never goes in there. Everything was fine when I left, and Mom said I could go. She and Olive were just sitting at the table talking and I don’t even know where Dad was. But when I got home, he was yelling at her. He shoved the papers in her face and asked how long she’d been lying to him. He lifted the box up and dumped all the money out on the floor. It was a lot of bills, because you get mostly ones. It looked like way more money than it was. He said that money must be her getaway money. He thought she meant to use it to leave him. He thought she was skimming it off the top of the grocery money. He said she was stealing it from him.” He wiped his hands down his face.
A noise of derision escaped from Celia. Paul snaked his arm behind Abe and pressed his hand against Celia’s lower back.
“The way he was yelling at her—I kind of lost it, and I yelled at him. I walked right up to him and told him it was my money not hers, and that I earned it so she could go to school and get away from him. Then he got madder, and accused her of turning me against him.”
Celia ran her hand down Abe’s hair.
“He grabbed her. He grabbed her arm with both hands and it was like my vision went black. I just started hitting him. I must have hit him fifty times—on his arms, on his back, on his shoulders.”
Abe turned to Paul, his eyes full of fear. “I hit him, Paul. A lot of times.” His voice cracked on the last sentence. “I never wanted to hit anyone so bad, and I promised myself I would never do it. But I did it. And I don’t know if I regret it or not.”
Paul ran a hand through his hair, wishing he were a whole lot wiser and knew the right things to say. “Abe, I don’t know much. But I know you’re a good kid. You were defending your mother. Protecting her. No man wants to use his fists, but sometimes it has to happen.”
Abe chewed on his bottom lip, and watched Paul’s face for a moment. “It was awful. Finally he let go of her, after I hit him enough times, I guess. He ran out of the house and said he was leaving, and Mom followed him because he was drunk, maybe drunker than I’ve ever seen him. Olive followed Mom. Mom was screaming at him not to get in the car, but he did, and she was grabbing at the car door handle. Aunt Olive was in the yard yelling at Mom to get out of the way, and he just backed up.”
He looked from Paul to Celia, and back again. “I’m glad you guys didn’t see it. I keep hearing the sound it made, and seeing her fall down. One minute she was standing there with her arms out, and then there was that awful thud, and then she was just gone, down on the grass. I couldn’t even see her.”
Abe leaned back against the brick wall, and Paul copied him. Their heads fell together, leaning on each other. “Abe, I’ve been thinking. Picture that waiting room up there. Think about how many people care about you. They care about you and your sister, Abe. And me, too. We aren’t in this alone. Sometimes I hate being a kid and feeling so powerless. But sometimes it’s pretty dang nice not to have to figure things out.”
Abe clasped his hands together in his lap. “I can’t imagine what that would be like.”
“That’s the beauty of it, Abe. You don’t have to imagine it. Just take it as it comes.”
40
Olive took the mug of hot tea from Marigold, wrapping her hands around it and bringing it to her lips. She took a sip, and screwed her face up in a grimace. “Would a little honey ruin the healing properties of this tea, Marigold?” she asked with a chuckle.
“Certainly not. In fact, honey has its own healing powers. It will help boost your immune system. I even brought a jar of raw honey with me.” She took the mug back from Olive, and carried it to the kitchen.
When she was out of ear shot, my aunt shook her head at me. “Phew, that was terrible! I hope she’s planning to dump a quarter cup of honey in there.”
I laughed, and nestled deeper into the recliner. My eyes wandered over to Paul, who dozed in the other chair. Stark December sunlight streamed in the front windows and the house bustled with energy.
Mom brought Olive home from the hospital this morning, to our house, where she and Fay would stay for a week while she healed. When Marigold asked if there was anything she could do to help out, I pushed away my normal urge to say no, and I told her yes. If nothing else, just having her here was a comfort. She and Mom had been working in our kitchen for hours, making a month’s worth of meals to put in Olive and Fay’s deep freezer.
Abe’s laughter traveled down the hall from his bedroom, where he and Fay were playing some video game he was terrible at, and Aunt Olive and I exchanged smiles. “He’s doing okay, isn’t he?” she asked. We’d all been worried about him, concerned about the way he blamed himself, but she’d been extra worried, feeling like she was the only one who could absolve him. He wasn’t making that easy, because he wasn’t ready to be absolved. She was trying, and had even had Malcolm bring over the TV and game console to keep him occupied in his room, where he wanted to spend most of his time.
Abe was kind of all over the place. He was up and down. Some days he was angry, some days he was sensitive and emotional, other days he seemed completely fine. “I think he’s okay.”
The phone rang then, and Paul woke up because it was sitting on the side table between us. I answered it, and froze when I realized who it was. Mom walked into the room then, and I held the phone out to her. “It’s the police.”
She only hesitated a second before taking the phone. “Hello? Yes.” A long pause. “Okay. Mmhmm.”
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, wondering what they were telling her. Paul’s warm presence showed up at my side, and he scooted me over in the chair and squeezed in beside me. He put his arm around me and moved my legs so they rested on top of his. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered in my ear.
“Thank you for letting me know,” Mom said, and let her arm fall to her side.
Marigold came back into the room with the tea, and handed it to Olive. “Hopefully this will be better, dear.”
“What did the police say?” I asked.
I watched as Mom took a deep breath and looked around the room. Her eyes lingered on Marigold, and then on Paul—the two people who weren’t family. “Todd’s initial hearing will be tomorrow. That’s where they’ll decide about an attorney, and other things like that. His trial could be months away. The officer said the judge will likely set a very high bond, but just in case he finds some way to pay it, they’ve issued a protective order so he can’t come near us. He was calling so I wouldn’t worry about that.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and Marigold rushed to her side and put her arms around her. Mom stood stiffly a moment, before relaxing into what I knew was a warm and comforting hug. Mom surprised me when she raised her arms to hug Marigold in return.
When Marigold released her, Mom wiped beneath her eyes and looked over at her sister. She walked to her and dropped to her knees beside the couch, clasping Olive’s hand in hers. They whispered things to each other the rest of us couldn’t hear, and I stood up and nodded to Paul, so he’d follow me down the hall. I went into my room and sat on my bed.
“You sure this is okay?” Paul asked, his hand on my bedroom door.
I nodded. I didn’t need to worry about the things I used to. “Close it.”
He did, and then joined me on my bed. As had become his habit in the last week, he picked up my hand first thing, and held it tightly clutched in his. “Thank God for Marigold, am I right?”
I leaned my head against his shoulder. “You are absolutely right. It’s so strange to see her and my mom like this.�
��
“Marigold has a way of burrowing into people. And you know, it’s not just Marigold. I’m seeing a different side of your mom.”
“Yeah, me too. She taught Abe and me to close ourselves off to people she considered outsiders. It was what we did to get by. What we did to keep things as normal as we could. It’s strange to think it doesn’t have to be that way.”
I crawled around him and lay back on my bed, my head on my pillow. As always, whenever I lay down, Osa jumped up on me and settled on my belly. Paul chuckled as I formed her into a circle so she could fit on me without falling off.
I patted the bed beside me, wanting Paul to lay there. He swung his legs onto the bed and his head joined mine on the pillow. I stared at his profile—the soft sweep of hair across his forehead, the straight line of his nose, the pink cushion of his lips, all so familiar to me.
“Thank you for being here for me this week, Paulie.” Osa’s purrs rumbled loudly against my belly, keeping me calm.
He turned his head to look at my face, and after a minute he turned his whole body and lay on his side facing me. He reached out and brushed his fingers down my cheek. His touch, his nearness lit my blood on fire—another familiar thing.
“Not just this week,” I continued. “But ever since you showed up in my yard that day and I let you see all my garbage. I’ve needed a lot from you. You gave me this cat, and she has comforted me every day. You gave me space when I needed it, yet you were never far away. You left that chocolate bar in my locker the day after the cross country team won state. I knew it was you all along, even though you didn’t leave a note. You did it because you knew I was sad I couldn’t be on the team anymore. You were the one who showed me it’s okay to take what people offer, even when all you have to offer back is yourself. Paul, you’ve been my friend.”
Juniper Limits (The Juniper Series Book 2) Page 25