The Mor Road

by Jennifer AlLee

  "The police station."

  She looks behind her as she backs out of the driveway. "Didn't I warn you about making me go to the police station?"

  "Yes, but this is important. Now that they've found what's left of my car, I need to get a copy of the final report for the insurance company, and pick up Lindsay's boxes."

  "I'm surprised they're letting you take them. Don't they need to hold them as evidence?"

  "If there was going to be a trial, maybe. But the guys that did it pleaded guilty."

  "Interesting. They probably made a deal in exchange for a lighter sentence."

  I shake my head. "You've been watching way too much Law and Order."

  "Hey, it taught me everything I know about our legal system. So, what did they recover at the scene?"

  "I don't know for sure. The officer I spoke to could only tell me it was personal property."

  "That could mean anything."

  "I know." Which is precisely why I didn't tell Lindsay about it. I'm hoping the car thieves threw all her boxes in a corner without opening them. Then I can be the hero and return her possessions to her unscathed.

  When we get to the police station, my hopes are dashed. It turns out only three boxes were recovered, and all of them were torn opened and rifled through. From the looks of them, by someone with filthy hands. It's a safe bet I'm not going to find an iPod in there.

  "What a mess," Jade says.

  The clerk behind the counter pushes a form in my direction. "Before I can release any property to you, you need to sign this statement that you recognize it and it does belong to you."

  As far as I can tell, it's all maternity clothes. Using only the tips of two fingers, I move aside the garments to look below. There are a few books, some cheap knickknacks, and a photo album. I pull out the album and thumb through it. There's Lindsay. There's Ben. That's good enough for me.

  "Yes. It's mine. Actually, it's my sister's but it was in my car when it was stolen."

  The clerk looks at Jade. "Then she can sign it."

  Jade elbows me and we both crack up. "Sorry," I say to the clerk. "This is my friend. My sister's in Illinois. Can I just sign for her?"

  "Sure." After I scratch my name on the bottom of the form, she tears off the yellow copy, hands it to me, and says, "Have a nice day." Her tone clearly conveys her irritation with us for being so silly.

  Jade eyes the three boxes. "Do you think you could help us carry these to the car?"

  "I can't leave the office, but I've got something you can use." She goes to a closet and comes back a minute later. "Here you go."

  Taking the metal handle of the two-wheeled cart, Jade grins. "Well, hello, dolly."

  The clerk is old enough to get the joke, but not happy enough to go with it. I quickly pile the boxes on the dolly and push it down the hall before the woman can change her mind. Behind me, Jade hums and I try my hardest not to sing along.

  "This is weird," I say as we load the boxes into the trunk.

  "Yeah, I didn't think you'd get anything back."

  "That's not what I meant." I slam the lid and turn to her. "I'm happy. I'm enjoying myself. And I think that's really weird."

  "Why?"

  "Because my life is a mess. What do I have to be happy about?"

  Jade puts her hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one side. "Can't you just be happy and enjoy it? Do you have to analyze everything and figure it all out?"

  The funny thing is that I haven't figured anything out. Nothing at all. If today's any indication, that seems to be working for me. Maybe that's an answer to a question I haven't thought to ask.

  "Do you think I'm a control freak?"

  "Yes."

  "Wow. You didn't waste any time on that one."

  She tilts her head to the side. "Am I amazingly talented?"

  "Yes," I say with a laugh.

  "See. When you know, you know." Her hands drop to her side and the wisecracking stops. "Seriously, you do like to orchestrate things. Which is good when it comes to running your business."

  "But not so good when it comes to relationships," I finish for her.

  "If you ask me, and you did, you need to step back and let God steer the ship."

  Now that's dirty. She's quoting from one of my own speeches. But she's right. After years of giving advice on how to trust God, I guess it's time I tried it myself.

  48

  The next few days are the most gut-wrenching and satisfying I've experienced in a long time. Typically, Jade and I spend the mornings going through letters and e-mails. We separate them into three piles: women who need encouragement, women who are encouraging me, and men who've been left by their wives and want a woman's perspective as well as encouragement. We also keep a shredder nearby for the occasional ugly letter. Thankfully, there aren't many of those. I intend to write back to these people eventually. Just as soon as I have something worth saying.

  After lunch, Jade goes home and I spend time reading my Bible and praying. You'd think, given my career and area of expertise, this would already be a normal part of my daily routine, but it's not. At first, it shamed me to think how much time I've spent over the years reading my own notes, examining my own thoughts for speeches and books, all the while neglecting the words and thoughts of my heavenly Father. Soon, I realized that shame was simply another barrier between me and God, so I pushed it aside and chose to move forward. Ever since, my study time is richer, my prayer time deeper and more intimate.

  Adam hasn't contacted me since the day he sent those text messages. I've thought about him, but I still don't feel right pursuing any kind of a relationship with him, even a purely platonic one. The truth is, I don't know if I can keep my feelings for him platonic. When it comes to Adam, the only thing I know for sure is that maintaining my distance is the best thing for both of us right now.

  Around four o'clock every day, Dad calls. At that time, they've just finished dinner in Beaumont, and Mom and Lindsay are usually together in the family room. He tells me how they're all getting along. Then I talk to Lindsay and she fills me in on wedding plans. Every time I hang up, a sweet sadness floods me, and the loneliness in my empty house grows a little heavier.

  Tonight, it's more difficult than usual. It could be because of a particularly poignant letter I read from a mother of two whose husband left her for the kids' twenty-three-year-old piano teacher. Or maybe it's because when I talked to Dad, I could hear Mom and Lindsay singing together in the background. I am the queen of the gypsies . . . I know exactly which episode of Lucy it's from, and now the tune is stuck in my head, a constant reminder of the family bonding that's going on without me.

  The doorbell rings, and I jump. Who could that be? I pull the door open, and standing there is the last person I expect, or want, to see.

  "Tony."

  "Hello, Natalie."

  "How did you know I was back?"

  "Mrs. Hernandez called me."

  Ah, our sweet little neighbor is trying to play matchmaker and fix our broken relationship. Her intentions are good, if misplaced.

  Tony shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I come in?"

  No, I want to say. You can't. You left, remember? You can never come in again. Instead, I step aside. "Sure."

  He looks around, almost like he expects the entryway to look different. It doesn't, but he does. His tie is askew. His hair needs a trim, his face needs a shave. He looks tired. Unhappy.

  "Why are you here?" It's blunt, perhaps even rude. But I'm too emotionally strung out to play games.

  "I made a mistake."

  "You what?" He's got to be talking about the house. Please God, please let him be talking about the house.

  "I never should have left you. It was a mistake."

  For the love of Pete. "Does Erin know you're here?"

  "This isn't about her. It's about us."

  "It most certainly is about her. She's the mother of your child."

  That shuts him up. For half a secon
d. Then he plows forward. "I know. But you're my wife. I never should have left you."

  That's the second time he's said he never should have left me. Not I never should have played around or I never should have hurt you or I never should have broken my vows. Just that he shouldn't have left.

  "I'm not your wife anymore. Not since you cheated on me."

  Rubbing his hand across the stubble on his cheek, he stares at me, as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "You make it sound like it was easy. You don't understand how hard I fought it. I didn't want to be with someone else, but you and I . . . I felt so far away from you."

  "And you thought sleeping with another woman would bring us closer?"

  "No, of course not. But she made me feel special. Like I mattered. You have no idea what it's like to discover that someone else wants you that way, especially when your spouse doesn't seem to want you at all."

  Actually, I do. I've been fighting those feelings with Adam for weeks. Fighting and winning. So not only can I empathize with him but I also recognize what a load of bull he's throwing at me.

  "Forgive me, Natalie. We can work this out. We can." He grabs my wrist and pulls me up against his chest.

  There was a time not so long ago when I would have given almost anything to be in this spot, so close to him that we can feel each other's heart beating. But it's not his heart I'm feeling now. It's his desperation. I see the fear in his eyes. Smell the remnants of liquor on his breath.

  "Have you been drinking?"

  "Just one beer. But I'm not drunk." His words come out faster, almost frantic. "I swear. I meant every word I said."

  "Okay." I push him away and take several steps back. "Look, Tony. I know I'm not perfect. And I'm sorry if I did anything to make you feel like I didn't want you. If you'd talked to me instead of jumping into someone else's bed, you would have known it wasn't true. That's when we could have worked it out. Not now."

  "But Erin—"

  "But Erin nothing. Don't blame this on her. Love is a choice. So is breaking a promise. When you had your affair, you chose to ignore our vows, to ignore me. You chose another life. You did that."

  He shakes his head, and I get the feeling this is the first time he truly understands how life-changing his actions were. Strange, but I actually feel sorry for him. The barrier around my heart cracks again and, finally, the protective shell falls away. Now I'm able to do what seemed impossible just a few days ago.

  Stepping forward, I put my hand on his cheek, make him look me in the eye. "You hurt me, Tony. Our marriage is over. But I forgive you."

  This is the closest I've ever seen him to tears. "What do I do now?"

  "First you pray. Square things with God. Then you go back to Erin. When our divorce is final, you marry her and you be the kind of husband and father I know you can be. You choose to love them. Every day."

  His eyes squeeze shut. When he looks back at me, I see resolve in them. "And what are you going to do?"

  "Follow a new path, wherever that leads."

  I open the front door and as he walks out, I take in a deep breath of clean night air. "Tony."

  He turns, and smiles, although his eyes still brim with sadness. "Yeah?"

  "We can sell the house. I'll call my lawyer in the morning."

  It's final now, and he knows it. He nods, turns, and walks down the driveway.

  As I shut the door and lean my back against it, tears begin to flow, but not because of anger or sorrow. Not because of pain. They flow from an overwhelming sense of relief. Because for the first time in months, I am free.

  49

  When Jade gets to the house the next morning, she finds me sitting at the patio table in the backyard, pounding away at the keys on my laptop.

  "This is new," she says, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

  "It's a beautiful day. I thought I'd enjoy the yard while I can."

  "While you can?" She sits in the chair to my left. "What does that mean?"

  "I'm selling the house."

  "Wow. What made you change your mind?"

  "Tony stopped by last night." The horrified expression on her face brings a smile to mine. "It's okay. There were things we both needed to say. And by the time he left, I was able to forgive him."

  "That's nice, but what does forgiving him have to do with selling the house?"

  "Turns out I was only holding on to it to torture him." I lean back, elbows on the armrests of my chair, fingers steepled in front of me. "I don't feel the need to do that anymore."

  "I see. Well, you're a bigger woman than I am. I'm still fantasizing about ways to torture him." She leans over to look at the laptop screen. "What are you working on?"

  "A proposal."

  Her eyebrows lift. "For a new novel?"

  "Nope." I shake my head. "A nonfiction project."

  "Let me guess. How to survive a divorce?"

  "Oh, no," I say with a shake of my head. "I'm not qualified to write about that. Not yet, anyway. This book's about mothers and daughters. How we see ourselves, how we see each other."

  "Does your agent know about it?"

  "I called her this morning. She likes it, especially with all the aging Boomers out there."

  She hits the Page Down button and scrolls through my morning's work. "You sure have gotten a lot done so far."

  "That's not all." I push my legal pad in front of her. "I also sketched out a rough game plan for my life."

  Drawing her brows together, she gapes at me. "Good grief. You did all this today? How early did you get up?"

  "With the proverbial chickens," I say, grinning.

  While Jade reads over my scribbling, I sip my coffee, cradling the mug between my hands. Across the yard, a group of little brown birds hop and peck around the blooming flower border. I wonder how the garden is doing back at my folks' place. I hope Dad is remembering to water all the new plants.

  "You're leaving me."

  I look back at Jade. "No I'm not. I'm going to something new."

  "It's the same result. I'm losing a friend and a job."

  Reaching over, I give her hand a quick squeeze. "You're welcome to come with me if you like." It's an empty offer, really. There's no way she would leave college, and I wouldn't let her. But I want her to know how important she is to me.

  "Thanks, but no. I couldn't handle those Illinois winters."

  "Well, you can at least come to visit. In the spring or summer, when it's warm."

  She jabs the paper with her finger. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Absolutely."

  The corner of her mouth turns up in a half-hearted smile. "Okay. While this stinks for me, I'm happy for you."

  "Good. But you're not out of a job yet." I stand up and gather my laptop and papers. "I'm going to work you like a dog as long as I'm here."

  She grabs my coffee cup and follows me into the house. "What's first?"

  "Letters," I sing over my shoulder. "We've got letters."

  That afternoon, I'm too impatient to wait for Dad's call, so I call him.

  "Great timing, Sugar Plum. We just finished dinner."

  "Good. I've got a question for you. Are you someplace you can talk?"

  "Just a second." There's a muffled rumbling, like he's talking to someone and holding his hand over the phone's speaker at the same time. A door bangs shut, then he's back. "Okay. What's the super-secret news?"

  I tell him about my conversation with Tony and my decision to sell the house. And then I tell him my plans for the future.

  "What would you think about me living with you and Mom for a while?"

  When he doesn't have an immediate answer, I worry I may have miscalculated. Maybe he doesn't want to have another female under foot. Or he might think I'm questioning his ability to take care of Mom.

  "I think it would be wonderful," he says, sounding slightly mystified. "But are you sure you want to do that? Wouldn't you rather have a place of your own?"

  "Eventually I will. But for
now, I want to help you out and spend as much time as I can with Mom. Then you can take some time for yourself. The best way to do that is to stay at your house. But if you don't want me there, I'll understand."

  "Sugar—" His voice cracks, and he has to clear his throat before going on. "You have no idea how this makes me feel. It's an answer to prayer."

  "For me too, Dad." I should have been there sooner. Fear kept me away, and as a result I missed precious, coherent time with my mother. I don't want to miss any more. We'll walk down this mysterious road of Alzheimer's together. And when the time comes when she does need full-time care and can't live at home anymore, at least I'll know I've done all I could.

  "When do you plan to come back?"

  "As soon as I wrap things up here. A couple weeks, I think."

  "That's just great." He coughs a few times. "Do you want to talk to your sister?"

  I picture him sitting on the porch swing, rubbing his eyes before any of the neighbors walk by and catch him being emotional. I sure do miss him.

  "I do, Dad. But one more thing first. Do you know the name of the Realtor that's handling the Uncommon Grounds sale?"

  "Let me think . . . It's Roy Gerard. Why?" His volume goes up by one excited notch. "Are you looking to buy a business?"

  "Possibly. Right now, I'm on a fact-finding mission. But don't mention it to anybody yet."

  "You've got it." Now his voice drops, becoming whispersoft. "Mum's the word."

  I laugh. "Okay, I'm ready to talk to Lindsay now."

  My sister is excited when I tell her about her recovered boxes, until she finds out what condition they're in. At first, she tells me to toss the clothes but then she changes her mind.

  "Do you think they'd be okay if I washed them?" she asks.

  "Sure. They're not torn, just dirty. If you want, I'll throw them in my washer for you."

  "That would be great. Who knows, I might need them again later if Ben and I have more kids."

  "More kids?" It took him long enough to want the one they're expecting. "Have you talked to him about that?"

  "Yeah, I have. It came up during counseling the other night."