by Davis Bunn
He entered Castaways ten minutes before they were scheduled to meet. The restaurant’s western wall held the largest bay window he had ever seen, with panes so old the glass had run, turning dusk’s final glimmers into rainbows on the old wooden paneling.
When the young woman entered the restaurant, Buddy had no idea who she was. What he noticed most was the way everyone stared. Not just the men. Everyone in the place watched her. Then he was struck by the double-barreled shock. First, that it was Kimberly. Second, that the hostess was bringing this gorgeous woman to his table.
The way she walked, precisely placing each foot down directly in front of the other, left him suspecting she had not been in heels for a long time. She passed the bar and crossed the restaurant to where he stood, ignoring the attention that followed her. Up close the view even got better, the overlarge eyes and the glistening lips. She must have noticed his nerves, though, for she allowed the restaurant host to seat her, waited for Buddy to settle back into his own chair, then leaned across and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“You look fabulous.”
“Thank you, Buddy. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
He waved away the waiter. “I should have worn a suit.”
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Kimberly, you are the most beautiful . . .” He lowered his gaze to his hands. Forced his brain to punch through the shock, and come face-to-face with what had frightened him so. “I haven’t been on a date in almost three years. Since my girlfriend told me she couldn’t trust me. I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I hadn’t done anything, never cheated, hardly even looked at another woman. But she wouldn’t listen. She left me.”
Kimberly whispered, “She broke your heart.”
“I’d never loved anyone before. I didn’t think anyone could hurt me like that. Nobody except . . .”
“No one, save your father.”
“The day after I moved Mom into her new place, she told me something . . . I went to see Shona. It was the first time we’d spoken since the week after she broke things off.” He took a hard breath. “I asked her the real reason why she had dumped me. She said she didn’t know who I was. And she thought I didn’t, either. And she was right.”
“Buddy, I want you to look at me.” When he didn’t move, she reached across the table and gripped his chin and lifted his gaze to her own. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”
His tremors were so tight, the words were fractured. “I’m so scared.”
“I understand. I really do. The last time I wore this dress was four years ago. I was thrilled and excited because the next day I was going to tell my ex that I was carrying his child. I felt giddy with excitement and joy. I had never felt so alive. I spent all that night thinking how happy I was, that I couldn’t wait to share this incredible news. First with Jason, then Preston and his parents and all these other people who were lined up in my head, the people I cared most for in the world. Only I never did make those calls. Because the next day Jason told me he didn’t want the child. And he didn’t want me.”
Buddy opened his mouth, but the words weren’t there. He could drown in her perfume. In the glistening depths of her gaze. In the soft lament.
She went on. “So I folded up the dress and I packed it away. And it’s been there ever since. I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I am scared, too.”
“I guess that should make me feel better. But it doesn’t.”
“I didn’t tell you this because I wanted to comfort you. I wanted to share with you. I haven’t shared this with anyone outside my family.”
“What do I do now?”
“You can take my hand if you like.”
He felt as though he was crossing entire continents, reaching across the table. Her hand was exactly as he would have expected. Long fingers, supple strength, a slight shadow of an indentation where a ring once lay. “I’m so sorry, Kimberly.”
“I didn’t tell you for sympathy.”
“I know.” He liked the feel of her hand so much he reached across with his other. “What happens now?”
“We’re on a date, Buddy. Accept it and let’s move on.”
“I’ll try.” And he would. For her.
CHAPTER 25
Hours later, Buddy did not so much drive home as drift back on a perfumed cloud. He was glad to find Carey already in bed, as he needed a bit more time before trying to talk about this with anyone, even his sister.
He was easing into his pallet when his cell phone rang. He had forgotten to cut it off, which only highlighted how far the evening with Kimberly had swept him away. He checked the readout, did not recognize the number, and decided he had no interest in talking with anyone other than Kimberly. He let it ring.
Then it went quiet, only for the house phone to start. He hurried into the kitchen. “Hello?”
Kimberly’s voice sounded very different from before. “I know it’s late, but this couldn’t wait until morning. Is your sister awake?”
“She’s right here.” Buddy turned to his sleep-tousled sister standing by the bedroom door. “It’s Kimberly.”
“While we were away, Preston took a call from Ross Burridge, the senior pastor. There’s to be a gathering of church elders tomorrow morning. They intend to dismiss us both.”
His former bliss disappeared like smoke in a hurricane. “Pop is behind this.”
“Apparently so.” She sighed. “Your father came to see me.”
“When?”
“Monday. He threatened to have me fired if I counseled your mother. I’m sorry, Buddy, I probably should have said something before now. But then Beth decided she didn’t want therapy, in any case, and you and I, well . . .”
“I understand.”
Carey demanded, “What’s going on?”
“Pop is going after Kimberly and Preston. Because of us.” Buddy lifted his hand to stop her response before it was formed. Wait. He said into the phone, “What can we do?”
“I have no idea. Probably not a lot. I just wanted you to know.”
“When is it happening?”
“Eleven-thirty. Which means I need to cancel the session with Carey.”
“I’ll tell sis.”
“I was going to call her next.”
“She’s right here. Let me do it. We need to talk this through.”
“Ross met us this morning. He said your father has been on the rampage. Again, in retrospect I should have told you. But I didn’t want to have this taint our time together.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” He leaned his forehead against the wall. “Kimberly, I’m so sorry.”
“I am also. You’re a good man. This should not be happening to you.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant. And thank you.”
Buddy hung up the phone and immediately started dialing. He told his sister, “Mom needs to hear this, too.”
His mother took the news in silence, then said, “We can’t let this happen.”
Buddy saw the stricken look on his sister’s face, and felt the old helpless burn. “It already has.”
“Not this time. Not to these good people, who have done nothing but be there for us when we needed help most.” Beth Helms used the same voice she adopted when scolding one of them. “That poor deluded man. I could wring his neck.”
“I’ll make some—”
“No, Buddy. You’re going to leave this to me.”
“Mom, I know a lot of the people involved in setting up the clinic. I could—”
“The elders involved are my friends.” Despite her ire, Beth’s voice sounded slightly blurred. “Most I’ve known longer than you have been alive. For once, you are not going to take charge.”
Buddy felt himself smile, which given the hour and the circumstances he took as a good sign. “All right, Mom.”
“How was your date?”
“Let’s leave that for another time.”
“Get some rest,
Buddy. Carey too. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve been asleep long enough.”
CHAPTER 26
But despite her best intentions, Beth only managed two phone calls. She had taken a second pain medication just before Buddy delivered the news. She was forced to stop when the fog rolled in. To continue would have meant confessing her own issues. Her children needed to hear that first. And soon.
The next morning she drank an entire pot of coffee and completed her calls before eight, waking two of her friends and catching two others as they were shepherding children off to school. Then she made the most important call of all, pressing for an appointment with an extremely busy man, using all the honeyed guile she could muster. It left her weary, and the day would be a long one. So she knocked on her neighbor’s door, and confessed, “I can’t do what today requires without your help.”
* * *
Josiah drove her to the Sierra Vista Medical Center in an Oldsmobile of considerable vintage. The car was immaculate, though the mileage was near stratospheric. Beth knew because she leaned over to check. Josiah smiled and said, “This sweet lady will outlive us both.”
“No argument there.” She liked how he drove, applying the caution of a man comfortable with his own limits. “Thank you for doing this.”
“It’s part of being a good neighbor.”
She studied Josiah, taking in the innate strength and dignity. “And friends.”
“I’d certainly like to think so.” He took a corner like a vessel under sail. “Your son has the makings of a great man.”
There was no reason for the words to press tears from her eyes. “Yes. He does.”
They did not speak again until he pulled into the parking lot, and Josiah asked, “Does Buddy know about your condition?”
“No. None of the children do.”
“Are you wise to wait?”
“I felt I had to.” She liked the way the morning carved his features into a honeyed icon. “They’ve had so much on their plates. I didn’t want to add more.”
“I understand that. But time has a way of making party hats out of our best intentions.”
“I’ll tell them as soon as this issue has been resolved. This one thing.”
He watched her fumble for the door. “You need my help?”
“No, thank you. I can manage.”
“Take your time, Beth. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
She thanked him and entered the doctor’s office building adjacent to the acute medical center. There was a definite gradation to Beth’s day. The pain was always there. She suspected it had become a permanent component to her days. She could feel the foreign substance invading her body, etching itself into her life. She knew her time was ending. All these things were facts. She had no interest in fighting them—even if it was possible, which it wasn’t. And yet she was determined not to make that the center of her existence.
She sat in the doctor’s office, surrounded by people who were deeply angry over their fate. She saw the bitter unfairness etched into their faces, the resigned sorrow, the fear. Whether or not they survived, they faced months of uncertainty and pain, perhaps years. Their lives would never be the same. They were hurting and isolated. They wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. Then there were the others. Two ladies and one young man who all wore scarves over their bald heads, who sat with eyes shut, who listened to music over their iPods. Those three expressions held a parallel serenity. Beth understood them. They were intent upon defying the others and their bitter act of surrender. They managed to eke out a fragment of peace, of goodness. Even here. Just like Beth. The young man opened his eyes then, as though he could feel the intensity of Beth’s scrutiny. He smiled at her. Sharing their secret insolence.
“Mrs. Helms? How are you today? Won’t you come this way?”
The nurse led Beth into the back office, timing her steps to match her own. The doctor she worked for, Clayton Sharpe, was not a pleasant man. The first few times they had met, Beth had been taken aback by his brusqueness. The man carried himself with a barely suppressed impatience, a secret fury. Now she understood. Clayton was a brawler by nature. He had dedicated his life to doing battle, most of which he would not win. The oncologist kept making notes in a file as she seated herself across from his desk. “Have you told your family yet?”
“Some of them. Yes.”
“You can’t put this off any longer, Beth.”
“That’s not why I’m here today.”
“But it’s an issue that you have to face.” He slapped the file shut and glared at her. Clayton Sharpe was probably in his mid-forties, but his gaze had been turned ancient by having stared into too many graves. “How is the pain?”
“Getting worse.”
“Do you need something stronger?”
“No, thank you.”
“You will. Soon enough. Just like you’ll need to think about hospice care.” He opened her file, scanned the top sheet, and said, “You’ve moved to an apartment in Old Town?”
“I have taken a small apartment. It suits me.”
“By yourself? That won’t do. Not for much longer.” He shot her another hard look. “Avoiding the discussion with your family will not put off the inevitable by one single day.”
“I told you, that’s not why I’m here. I want you to do something for me. You’re an elder in our church. It’s one of the reasons I chose you as my doctor.”
As she explained what she wanted, the doctor’s impatience gradually eased. He sensed a battle. And a cause.
“Your husband,” he declared, “is a bully.”
“He wasn’t always. But now . . . I could not agree more.”
He tapped his pen on the open file. “When is the meeting?”
“In three hours.”
“If I do this, will you agree to tell your family?”
“Of course. Yes.” She sighed around a sudden stab, as though releasing her tension allowed the pain more room to expand. “I’ll go tell my daughter right now.”
CHAPTER 27
The pain crimped Beth’s side such that Josiah was up and moving before she had fully emerged from the doctor’s building. He took their return journey at her pace, eased her into the car, then settled behind the wheel. He tapped the gearshift a few times, then said, “You got every reason in the world to tell me it ain’t none of my business.”
“I know. I need to tell my family.”
“That’s right. You surely do.”
“Could you drive me to my son’s home?”
“You mean, right now?”
The simple act of deciding had heightened her discomfort. As though the admission finally gave the pain a freer rein. “Yes. While I still can.”
He started the car. “Will he even be there?”
“No. Which is why we need to go now.”
He turned from the parking lot. “You do realize you’re not making any sense.”
It was the last thing Josiah said. She spoke only to give him directions. When he parked in front of Buddy’s town house, Josiah cut the motor and walked around to her door and helped her up. She did not let go of his arm, which was all he required to walk her to the front door. When she rang the bell, he settled her hand on the side rail and said, “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
“Josiah.” When he turned back, she went on, “You are one of God’s secret angels.”
His reply was cut off by Carey opening the door. “Momma, what are you doing here?”
* * *
“But, Momma, you can’t just die.”
Beth sat and held Carey’s hand and let her daughter weep. Somewhere outside a dog barked. Through the living-room window she could see the nose of Josiah’s car. She had always disliked relying on other people for help. In the past such moments had usually left her wondering if people aided her out of sympathy for the woman who put up with Jack Helms. She didn’t want their pity. But she was going to ha
ve to grow accustomed to accepting help. “All right. That’s enough.”
“How long have you known?”
“You’ve asked me that already.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“Because you had your own troubles. Dry your eyes. We need to talk.”
Carey sniffed loudly. “What are we doing now?”
“We’re letting you get used to some unwanted news. I’m sorry I had to break it like this. I always thought I’d be telling Buddy first, and then we’d come to you together.”
Her brisk attitude dampened Carey’s ability to gush tears. “I don’t understand.”
“Buddy has spent his entire life being strong for you. Now is your chance to do something for him.”
“Momma . . . we’re talking about you.”
“No, child. We’re done with that. I’m sick and it’s going to get worse. You need to accept it and move on.” When Carey started to protest, Beth gripped her hand as tightly as she could and said, “Daughter, you need to focus.”
“You’re hurting me.”
Beth did not let up. There in her daughter’s face was the little child who never received the love and approval she so desperately sought from her daddy. So she had gone looking for it in all the wrong places. One more in a long list of issues Beth was powerless to change. “Buddy needs you, Carey.”
As she explained what she wanted, Beth saw a faint light grow in her daughter’s shattered gaze. Something Beth had longed to see for years. The tiniest hint of something new. A slight glimmer of independence.
When she finished, Beth waited, willing her daughter to fight against twenty-seven years of caving in. She watched Carey wipe both cheeks with her free hand. Scarcely able to breathe.
“Daddy scares me.”
“Your father can be a scary man.”
She smiled then. “You’ve never said that before.”
Beth released as much of a breath as she could manage. “I know that. And I’m sorry. I wish I had done a better job . . . but never mind that. We simply don’t have time for regrets.”
“When do you think we’ll need to do this?”
“I have no idea. Soon. Jack has no patience when it comes to a fight. And from what Buddy tells me, the situation they face in the company is a time bomb.”