by Beca Lewis
Hank understood Melvin’s desire to be alone. He had the same wish for himself. Even though they both lived in Melvin’s house, they never got in each other’s way. When they wanted company or conversation, they knew where to meet. They would look for each other first at the kitchen table, or if it was a nice day, they would check the porch swing. Otherwise, they moved in harmony, but not in the same place. It was a talent that Hank appreciated in Melvin.
It only took twenty minutes to get to Emily’s hill using the shortcut. A rough ride, but worth it to Hank. The bulldozer drivers were in the process of clearing the land for the dance barn. After that, the concrete for the foundation would be poured. While it cured, the bulldozers would go back to working on the driveway and parking space.
Then the framing crew would come in to the frame the barn. Even though Hank had seen it done hundreds of times, he always admired how a skilled framing crew could frame an entire building in just a few days.
While the crews were at work in the barn, Hank would have the bulldozers clear the place for the house and the dance deck. Emily wasn’t counting on them being done in time for this summer session, but at least she could see where they were going to be.
However, Hank thought it might be possible to get the deck finished. He hadn’t told Emily yet. If he did manage to get the deck done, it would be better to be a surprise rather than a disappointment if he couldn’t. After finding out for sure that her aunt was one of the bodies buried on her hill, Emily didn’t need any more disappointments in her life at the moment.
Evan’s discovery and Melvin’s picture with Emily’s aunt and three other women had set in motion new searches. Sam was taking the picture to his friends at the FBI where it would be distributed through their network to see if anyone recognized the faces in the photo. Even though it had been forty-five years, everyone held out hope that they would find out who they were.
If you have lost someone, you would never stop looking, and you would recognize them no matter how old the picture was. That’s what Emily assured them. After all, she hadn’t even met her aunt, and yet she knew the face from the photographs her mom had shown her.
The information that Evan had discovered in the files meant a different kind of search. What worried Hank was the question that if the killer was still alive, would he panic once the search became public? What would he, or she do? Would they run, or would they kill again?
Hank shook off those thoughts and turned to what was right in front of him. They had to wait for those answers to those two puzzles. In the meantime, he would focus on what he could control. He would build Emily’s dream.
Thirty-Seven
He wasn’t getting any better, and no one knew why. There were moments when Valerie thought that Harold was recovering. He would start mumbling, and her heart would race as she leaned over to hear what he said. But the mumbling would stop, and he would fade back into a sleep so still, it was as if he was in a coma.
It had been two days since he had collapsed and nothing had changed. Craig had stayed again with her most of the last night, but left early in the morning to get some sleep before seeing his own patients. He promised to check in with her during the day.
Valerie expected Dr. Joe to stop by at any moment. She thought it was so kind of him to keep checking in. One time, Valerie had returned from getting coffee and heard Dr. Joe whispering something to Harold. Valerie smiled at that. She did the same thing. She read Harold stories and reminded him of their life together. She also whispered words of encouragement and love, hoping he could hear.
The police were still circling around both her and Tina. Valerie knew that it was only because they had no answers, other than the suggestion that Dr. Joe had made that Harold had been poisoned. It was the one thing that bothered Valerie. Why would he suggest such a thing? Didn’t he know it would put suspicion on the women in Harold’s life?
Yes, she had known about Harold always stopping off to see Tina. She didn’t believe that anything would come of it. In her heart, Valerie felt sorry for Tina being bothered by him. Although she and Tina barely knew each other, Valerie was sure that Tina was not responsible for her husband’s illness.
Was someone responsible? Or was it something that just happened without a cause? Lying in bed, Harold looked more peaceful than she had seen him look in years. It would be wonderful if he would open his eyes and look at her the way he used to, Valerie thought.
“Please, Harold,” Valerie said, leaning over and kissing Harold on the cheek. “Please come back to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
When there was no response, Valerie closed her eyes and laid her head on his hand, and fell asleep. Dr. Joe found them like that an hour later.
Pausing in the doorway, he decided he would come back later to have his talk with Harold. He knew Harold was listening. All he had to do was believe what Joe told him. Then, all would be well.
*******
Sam asked Hank if he could meet him at Your Second Home. Sam liked it there. Grace and Mandy had made the coffee shop the perfect meeting place. It was cozy and comfortable, but most of all, conversations didn’t carry. And the conversation he wanted to have with Hank was not one he wanted anyone else to hear.
Well, he thought. Of course, Grace and Mandy would hear because they hear everything. Hiding anything from them was useless.
When Sam walked in the door, Sam saw Sarah sitting at a back table reading a book. It made him think that somehow he had been set up. Did Mira suggest that he meet Hank here, or was it his own idea?
Either way, he was going to carry on as if he had come there by his own volition, have his private conversation with Hank, and assume that they would hear anyway.
Sam chose a table on the other side of the room from Sarah, after waving to her. Mandy brought him his favorite coffee and pastry and asked him if anyone was joining him. As if she doesn’t know, Sam thought to himself.
“Hank’s coming. Could you see that no one sits too closely?” he asked. “I want to go over some details of the investigation with him.”
Mandy smiled and answered, “Of course.” She took Hank’s order as he passed her on his way to Sam’s table, and patted him on the arm as she did so.
Sam watched her and shook his head, thinking that it was a good thing the women were all on his side.
After Mandy served them, Sam pulled out a file and slid it across to Hank, but kept his hand on it and said, “Before you look at this, I want to ask you a few questions.”
Hank glanced at the file. It was a regular manila file folder with nothing marking it as anything significant. He pushed it to the side and started eating his pastry. He had had these kinds of conversations before with Sam, and they often turned into something that made him not want to eat. He wanted to make sure he got a bit of pastry and a sip of coffee before it began. Swallowing coffee and his bite of pastry in one gulp, he said, “Sure. What about?”
Sam answered him with one word, “Grant.”
“Not him again! When will this ever stop?” Hank said pushing his pastry to the side. He knew he wouldn’t be hungry after Sam started talking.
“Sorry, Hank. But this is important.”
“But, he’s dead, Sam,” Hank replied.
“Yes, but something has come up, and you might know more about it,” Sam replied.
“When will that man stop haunting me?” Hank asked. “First he rescues me from the streets. Helps me grow up. Treats me like a son. But instead of teaching me how to be a good man, he teaches me how to be evil. Encourages it. Promotes it. Then I find out he made me do things on purpose that I have grieved about all my life, just to keep me under his thumb. And then, finally, Jay, my supposed enemy, takes a bullet for me so I can be free. All that, Sam. All that.”
Hank looked down at the table and took a deep breath, “But I guess after all th
at I’m still not free from that disgusting man because here you are again asking me about him.”
Sam, wisely, didn’t say anything. He could never truly understand how Hank felt. Hank’s life was so different than his. But Sam didn’t know anyone he respected more than Hank. Hank had survived his childhood, and even his adulthood and turned his life around for love. Love of his niece, Ava, and now his family and friends.
It was a long silence, but finally Hank breathed out and said, “Okay, Sam. What do you want to know?”
Thirty-Eight
She waited for tears. Nothing happened. None came. Maybe she had run out of them. Maybe her heart had died. Maybe she had never lived with love at all. Surrounded by all the women of the council she felt comforted but empty. Was that a contradiction? Valerie wondered. Could you be empty and comforted at the same time?
Her brain would not shut down. Thoughts of all shapes and sizes tumbled through her mind. Just like a clothes dryer with a glass door, one thought at a time would pop up to be seen and then tumble back into the mix.
Her heart might be closed, but her mind just kept running and running with nonsense. Valerie wished she could turn everything off. Pull a plug somewhere. She wanted to make it go away. She wanted to go home. No, not home. She wanted to go someplace else, anywhere else. She wanted to crawl into bed and stay for the next year.
They had already taken Harold away. As still as he had been the last few days, she knew the minute his spirit had slipped away. One minute a person was lying on the bed. Then within a split second, it was just a shell. It wasn’t Harold anymore.
In some ways, Harold felt more present now after dying than he had been the last few days. Maybe the last few years. It’s just after-shock, she thought. Harold was gone. She was alone. She had no answers. For anything.
Why did he die? Was it her fault? How would she take care of the kids? What would she say to them? So many questions. No answers. And for God’s sake, what did Harold mean? She had finally understood one of his mumbles. Right before he died, he had said, “Tell them, I’m sorry.” She tried to get him to tell her more. But those were the only words he had spoken.
Who was “them?” What was he sorry about?
Craig had been at the hospital when Harold died. Dr. Joe had visited with Harold an hour before. Valerie caught Joe doing that whispering thing again. But by the time they declared Harold dead, Dr. Joe had already reached home. It was Craig who directed her through what needed to be done and then brought her to Ava’s where all the women were waiting for her.
Somehow they knew she didn’t want to speak. They took turns sitting with her, but when she couldn’t bring herself to talk, Ava led her to the bedroom she had been using and told her it was hers for as long as she wanted it to be. The kids would be taken care of when they got home. Just rest.
The bed was turned down. The blinds were closed. Just what Valerie needed. Oblivion. Ava helped her to the bed, took off her shoes, and covered her. And then gently shut the door as she whispered they would be there when Valerie needed them, but in the meantime, take all the time she wanted.
A small clock by the bed told Valerie it was one in the afternoon. Harold had been gone for just three hours. So many years of her life had been about Harold and Valerie, and now she was only Valerie. Would she be able to stand on her own?
Before drifting off to sleep, she thought she saw a small light in the corner of the room at the ceiling. Must be my imagination, she thought. But with the light came a feeling of wellbeing. Not what she expected to feel, but she welcomed it and closed her eyes.
*******
Dr. Joe was in his home office when he heard the news. As a favor, a nurse he had known for years called and told him. It was a return of a favor that he had extended to her years before. She would never be able to repay him, so making a phone call didn’t make a dent in what she would do for him.
Although he expected the news, what he hadn’t expected was the well spring of emotions that arrived with the phone call. He was barely able to say “thank you” before he choked up and hung up the phone. Joe knew that holding back emotions was never healthy, so he let himself—at least for the time being—feel all the emotions and distress of losing Harold.
As a boy, Harold had so much promise, Joe thought. He let himself revisit the many days and hours they had spent together. Harold was like a sponge soaking up every bit of information that Joe had to offer. For all those years, Harold had been like a son to Joe. It had been especially true after Joe’s wife died and his son ran away.
The thought of losing his son, Edward, brought a fresh wave of emotion, and he reveled in it. He let the emotions of love and loss sweep him away. Joe wasn’t worried. He knew where all the tree branches were that he could grab onto in the stream of grief to bring himself back from the edge.
He would come back from the waters refreshed and energized. He knew he was a great healer because he was able to feel all those emotions, learn from them, and let them go. Then he could relay those emotions to others. He could empathize.
Joe was trusted, respected, and loved. Joe had no idea how anything could be better than that, although a bit of companionship would be welcome. However, after all these years he had learned that companionship brought another problem. The decision on how much to share. While he had been learning about emotions and control, Joe had learned not to trust. He had secrets much too dangerous to share with an ignorant world. And sometimes, in gratitude for companionship he had shared too much. The ramifications could be terrible. So he learned to live without that one element of life. He had everything else under control.
However, as a doctor, and discoverer of healing methods, Joe had a burning desire to share what he knew. When he was young, Joe thought he would tell everyone about his discoveries. Joe wanted to shout them from the housetops. But his life had taught him to be cautious.
Instead of telling everyone, he told only a few. Some of them understood. Most of them did not—or thought him a fool. It took a few disasters before Joe learned that it was best to trust only a few people with a little bit of information. And no one with all the information.
When the timer went off on his allowed time of grief, Joe’s weeping stopped, and he felt refreshed. A new day in his life had arrived. Joe smiled with a renewed sense of purpose. Although he still felt the internal weight of what Harold had done, he could forgive him now. Joe knew that forgiveness was a vital part of a healthy mind and body.
Joe allowed himself to feel the disappointment that Harold had not learned how to follow everything that Joe had taught him. But Joe knew that Harold was at peace, and that made him happy. He had done his best. What Joe could do for him now was to write the best eulogy he had ever written. Joe loved writing them. Each time he got better at it.
Valerie hadn’t asked him yet, but he knew she would. She would have no energy, or emotional or mental capacity to do it. Valerie would be relieved that someone had done it for her and that such a good friend of Harold’s had been the one.
Thirty-Nine
Now what? Sam asked himself as he stood in the midst of the gathering of friends in Ava’s home. He looked around the room at all the earnest faces. It was a group of people that had gone through so much together the last few years. Tom, Mira, Ava, Evan, Craig, Sarah, Mandy, Grace, Hank, Pete, and Barbara all smiled back at him. The Stone Circle was the core of the group, but the group had grown. It was truly a Karass. A circle of people who knew each other. Who remembered.
Even him. Sam had begun to feel the truth that these were people he had known before. They were familiar. They had always been familiar. Sometimes when he met new people now, he felt right away that he knew them already. It didn’t mean they always became friends or he liked them. It was an awareness that they had met before in a different life. Or, perhaps, as Leif would remind him, a different dimension.
Sam had begun to see the pattern. For that, he was grateful because he no longer felt like a stranger in a strange land. He amended that thought. It was still a strange land. And although the group in Ava’s living room was one that he admired and loved, he didn’t feel that he entirely fit into it, yet. Maybe I will be more of this group soon, he thought, looking at Mira sitting by his side. She smiled back at him, and the world righted itself a bit.
What Sam had learned was that he didn’t know as much as he used to think he knew. He was learning that he didn’t need always to be right. Or always the protector. Now he knew and could admit, that he needed help. And right now, to be specific, he required this group’s assistance. He had a suspicion, but he had to test it out first. Was there anyone in the group who would not understand why he was asking them, and not the police or FBI? Did he understand?
“That’s a serious thought to be having,” Leif said in his ear. Sam jumped. He had finally been able to see Leif and Eric when they arrived, but they always seemed to surprise him. When he caught a glimpse of Leif’s face and the twinkle in his eye, Sam knew that they were doing that on purpose.
Of course, their arrival interrupted the meeting for a few minutes. Everyone could see the two of them now, and each time Leif and Eric showed up, joy filled the room. Hannah sometimes started crying with happiness, even though Sam suspected that Leif and Eric visited her on the sly more often than she told them.
Sarah and Grace looked radiant whenever they saw their husbands. Perhaps it was getting easier for them to adjust to not having their physical presence. On the other hand, if Mira wasn’t here to hold, how would he feel?
Even though there was no real need for it, a chair was brought into the living room so Eric could sit beside Grace. And everyone slid over on the couch so Leif could sit beside Sarah. It was an illusion of a physical presence that they all clung to.