Carl Joseph, the one who never got mad at anyone, had been quiet since they left the Subway. Now he looked hurt. “You weren’t very nice to my friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So then”—he licked his lips—“why, Brother? Why weren’t you nice?”
“I was afraid.” Cody pulled up at a stoplight and looked at Carl Joseph. “I don’t like you out on the streets, Buddy. You could walk into traffic or wander off. You could have one of your spells. Do you understand?”
Carl Joseph looked straight ahead. “Green, Brother. Green means go. Red means stop. White walk sign means walk.”
Cody stared at his brother, and only after someone behind them honked did he finally press his foot to the accelerator. “Where did you learn that?”
“From Teacher.”
They didn’t talk again until they reached the parking lot of the old YMCA. Rumor around town was that the owner wanted to sell it. The city had passed on buying it, so now the place was open to anyone with the money to take it over. Cody parked his truck and turned to Carl Joseph. “Tell me about the center, Buddy.”
Carl Joseph took a long breath. He twisted his fingers together, the way he did when he was nervous. “It’s for independent living.”
“You said that earlier.” Cody was careful to make his tone kind. He reached out and took one of his brother’s hands. None of this was Carl Joseph’s fault. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not mad.”
“You seemed mad.” He licked his lips again. “At Daisy and Gus and Teacher and Sid and Tammy and—”
“I’m not mad, Buddy. Just please . . . tell me about the center. Why . . . why do you need to go on field trips?”
“Because, see . . .” Carl Joseph looked out the window and then back at Cody. “Field trips get us closer to Goal Day.”
“Goal Day?” Cody could feel his heart sinking inside him. There would be no goal day for a person as sick as Carl Joseph. “Tell me about it.”
“Goal Day is when students move out and live on their own.” Perspiration appeared on Carl Joseph’s forehead. “All on their own. Independent living.”
Cody felt sick to his stomach. So it was exactly what he’d feared. This Elle Dalton was running a program that had somehow taught Carl Joseph to believe something impossible for his future. “Is that what you want?” The blood drained from Cody’s face. “To live away from Mom and Dad, out here in the world all by yourself? Even with these spells you’ve been having?”
“Uh . . .” Carl Joseph began to rock. He looked at his feet and then held his hand up and examined it. “Yes. Buddy wants that.”
For a moment Cody wasn’t sure what to say. He’d already upset his brother. He had to undo this flawed way of thinking, the ridiculous and dangerous notions Carl Joseph had been taught at the center. But he had to do it in a way that didn’t hurt his brother. Finally he squeezed Carl Joseph’s hand. “Okay, Buddy. I understand.” He hesitated. “We can talk about it later.”
“Later.” Carl Joseph nodded. He still looked uncertain, but he turned his eyes to Cody and smiled. “Goal Day can come later.”
“Right.” Cody’s head was spinning. He wanted to get home as fast as possible and find his parents, confront them about how—since getting his recent diagnosis—they could possibly have allowed Carl Joseph to continue this way of thinking. He released his brother’s hand, climbed out of the car, and went to Carl Joseph’s side.
But before he got there, his brother climbed out and turned curious eyes in his direction. “Do you have your keys?”
“Yes.” He held them up. What was this? Carl Joseph had never even comprehended the idea of keys before. When they went out on the town, Cody would open and close the door for him, helping him to the pavement and back into the car.
“Good.” Carl Joseph pushed the lock button on his door and shut it. “You have to check first. Keys get locked in sometimes.”
Cody was stunned. How much had his brother learned? Already more than Cody would’ve thought possible. They started to walk toward the building, and Cody focused on the reason they were here. “I’m thinking about buying this place.”
“Really?” Carl Joseph was still trembling, still upset. But he was clearly trying to move past the earlier incident, same as Cody. “Why, Brother?”
“It’s a gym.” Cody kept his pace even with Carl Joseph’s. “I thought maybe I could turn it into an exercise facility for people like you and . . . and your friends.”
“You think we need exercise?” Carl Joseph stopped. His eyes lit up. “Teacher thinks that, too. She makes us dance and do sit-ups and stretches.”
Cody felt his anger rise again. The woman was taking over every area of his brother’s life. And what good was coming from her exercise program? Carl Joseph was no more fit than he’d been last time Cody was home. His heart was no stronger. “Well.” He kept his voice upbeat. “I think maybe you could use a little more exercise than that. A regular exercise program.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah, and maybe you’ll like this place better than the center.” He made a funny face at Carl Joseph. “Might make you big and strong.”
“Like a bull rider?”
“Right. Exactly.”
“Oh, goodie.” They went inside and Cody met the owner at the front desk. “I called about the facility here. I’m interested in purchasing it.”
“Yes.” The man shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.” He hesitated. “But I’m afraid the other owner and I haven’t decided whether or not we’re going to sell.”
Cody was about to ask how much longer before the owners might know more, when he heard someone laughing. He turned and saw Carl Joseph standing at a butterfly press machine, but instead of using it correctly, he was doing squats over the bench. A couple of scrawny guys in their thirties—long hair and pierced ears—had stopped to watch. One of them was pointing at Carl Joseph. “What’s this—comic relief?”
“Yeah, since when do they let retards in?”
By the time Cody reached his side, Carl Joseph had brought his hands up and covered his face. Cody shoved the first guy he reached. “Leave him alone.”
The guy had a beard and a mean face. He pushed Cody in return. “What’s it to you?”
“That’s my brother.” Cody grabbed the guy’s sweaty T-shirt. This time he pushed him hard enough that the guy fell to the floor.
At that point, the owner stepped up. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He took hold of Cody’s arm. “The club is for members only.”
“Club?” Cody jerked his arm free. “Place is a dive.” He snarled at the bearded man, still scrambling up from the floor. “Bunch of lowlifes.” He glared at the owner. “No wonder you’re going bankrupt.”
The two men started to go after Cody, but the owner held them back. Cody led Carl Joseph out the door and back to the car. This time he didn’t bother opening his brother’s door. As soon as they were inside, Cody let his head fall against the steering wheel. What was happening? Nothing was going the way he planned it.
“Brother?” Carl Joseph touched his arm. “I think I like the center better.”
Cody lifted his head. “I’ll bet you do.” He straightened and turned toward his brother. “I’m sorry about that. Those guys . . .” He swallowed his anger so Carl Joseph wouldn’t think it was directed at him. “Those guys have a problem, Buddy. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe they don’t have life skills.” Carl Joseph reached back and grabbed his seatbelt. He buckled it as if he’d done so a hundred times before. “Life skills help.”
“Yes.” Cody started the engine. Who would stand up for Buddy the next time some ignorant jerk laughed at him? Who would come along and take his hands down from his face and help him past the situation? He reached over and patted his brother’s knee. “Let’s get home, okay?”
“Okay.”
As they drove, Cody asked more questions about the center. “How does a student get ready for Goal Day? Can you tell me?
”
Carl Joseph seemed less upset than before, but he was still nervous. As if he could sense that Cody’s questions were being asked not merely out of mild interest but because Cody disapproved. “You have to know the bus routes.”
“How to get on a bus, you mean?”
“No.” Carl Joseph brought his hands together and began twisting them again. “You have to know that Route Number Eight goes to the Citadel Mall and that Route Ten goes downtown.”
Again the shock was so great, Cody could barely concentrate on the road. “You know the bus routes?”
“Not . . .” Carl Joseph looked up at the ceiling and for a long moment he moved his fingers against his hand like he was counting. “Not Bus Route Number Twenty-three or Twenty-five. Not Number Thirty-seven. Not Forty-one either.”
“But you know the rest?”
“Not like Daisy knows them.” He gave a weak smile. “Remember Daisy, Brother? She was at the Subway.”
“Yes. She was nice.” Cody clenched his fist. He’d been awful earlier. “I should’ve stayed and talked to her.”
“Yes.” Carl Joseph stopped twisting his hands. “She had a pretty shirt. You should’ve said she had a pretty shirt.”
“Right.” Cody stared at the road ahead. “Was the field trip fun? Before I came?”
“Yes. Gus wanted to ride a train.”
“Through the park? I don’t think there’s a train that goes through Antlers Park.”
“There isn’t.” Carl Joseph laughed. It wasn’t as loud and carefree as usual, but at least it was a start, proof that he would recover from the events of the day—events that Cody knew he was completely responsible for.
Cody played along. “Okay, so why did Gus want to ride a train?”
“Because of the landmark at the middle of the park. Old Engine 168.”
Carl Joseph was right. There was an old railroad car at the center of the park—something donated to the city ages ago. Cody looked at his brother, disbelieving. In all his life, he’d never had a conversation like this one with Carl Joseph. “Did someone explain that to Gus?”
“Yes.” Carl Joseph rocked forward and laughed a little louder than before. “Sid told him, ‘Look, no tracks.’ And Teacher said, ‘Read the sign.’”
This time Cody nearly hit the brakes. “You can read?”
“Not yet.” Shame crept into his tone. “I’m learning my ABCs. Daisy’s helping me.”
“Daisy can read?”
“Daisy’s a super-duper reader, Brother. She can read signs and bottles and recipes and Adventures of Tom Sawyer.”
The idea was entirely new to Cody. A person with Down Syndrome could learn to read? That wasn’t what the teachers had told their mother back when Carl Joseph was in grade school. But since then . . . Cody wasn’t sure. Was he that out of touch?
It all came together. Carl Joseph wasn’t involved in the center by his own choosing. Someone had to have found the place and convinced him that independent living was a good idea.
And that person could only have been his father.
The truth brought with it a host of familiar feelings—anger and resentment toward the man. Cody had hated his father most of his life. Ali had brought them together after a lifetime of being apart. Ali, who thought family was too important to hold grudges and harbor hatred. But that didn’t mean Cody had forgotten.
Cody was seven and Carl Joseph two when their father climbed into a yellow taxicab and drove off—all because he wasn’t willing to raise a son with Down Syndrome. Cody spent the next decade living with the growing understanding that something was different about his little brother. His father had been mean and unfeeling to reject a boy like Carl Joseph. Cody’s entire bull-riding career was driven by the rage inside him, a rage that took root that day when his father’s cab pulled away. Yes, Ali had brought healing between the two of them. His dad was back, and his parents were happy together. But maybe his father was still embarrassed by Carl Joseph. Why else would Buddy be attending an independent-living center even with a diagnosis of epilepsy?
As Cody parked the car, he spotted his father’s sedan. His dad was owner and manager of a restaurant—the same job he’d had since he moved home—and today he was home early. Cody was glad. He could hardly wait to talk to him. There were things he’d never said to the man once he returned, things that had seemed unimportant in light of everything with Ali. Back then Cody’s days were too busy loving Ali, finding a way to soak a lifetime out of the three years they had together.
Cody climbed out of the car and waited for Carl Joseph to join him. He could already picture his father, sitting at the kitchen table with his mother, sharing a coffee break. What was he thinking, putting Carl Joseph’s life at risk? And what had he been thinking all those years ago, when he climbed into that yellow cab and drove away? Carl Joseph never held any of it against their father. He was happy to see the man when he showed up again. But the things Cody had wanted to tell his father when it came to Carl Joseph stayed with him, stuffed in a corner of his heart.
And that was going to change in a few minutes.
Chapter Seven
Mary Gunner was aware that her world was about to be rocked.
She had called her husband minutes after Cody stormed out of the house. “There’s trouble, Mike.” She explained that Cody knew about the center, and that he was angry and scared about Carl Joseph being on his own. “Get home early.”
Mike tried to downplay the brewing trouble. “Cody will get used to the idea, Mary. He has no say over Carl Joseph’s future.”
Mary did not like any sort of confrontation where Mike was concerned. They’d had more confrontation in their early years than most married couples had in a lifetime. Mike had played football in the NFL, and when an injury cut his career short, he found his ego best fed in the arms of other women.
When Mary learned the truth, she confronted him, ready to forgive him if he was sorry, if he promised to change. But Mike wasn’t ready to make promises. Instead he told her that he couldn’t be a father to Carl Joseph, and with almost no warning or conversation, he took two suitcases and met a cab in front of their house. He left that day with Carl Joseph crying in her arms, and he had never looked back until seven years ago.
By then Mary and Carl Joseph had built a life on their own. They had a comfortable routine, and Mary had only one source of heartache—the way Mike’s absence hurt her oldest son. Cody lived most of his years angry, and for that Mary ached day and night.
If it weren’t for Ali, healing might never have happened at all. But like an angel sent from heaven, Ali had a way of making people around her see love where before only hatred existed.
Eventually Mike returned home—full of apologies and regret. And every day since then he’d been the model husband, loving her and caring for her, and making up for all the years they’d lost.
In Ali’s presence, Cody couldn’t stay angry. His painful feelings toward his father faded until finally there wasn’t a trace of hatred left. Mike gave blood before Ali’s lung transplant, and as Ali grew sicker, Cody and his father grew closer. When she died, Cody wept in his father’s arms. The past seemed as distant as if it had happened to someone else.
Until this morning.
So when Mike made light of the situation, when he complained that he was supposed to stay through the dinner shift at the restaurant, she did what she almost never did. She pushed. “Mike, this is serious. More than you know. Please . . .”
Mike must’ve heard something in her voice, because he hesitated for only a moment. “Okay.” His tone expressed his change of heart. “I’ll be there.”
And now here they were, waiting, when they heard Cody’s car pull into the drive. They were silent, side by side on the living room sofa, as the garage door lifted, and they heard Cody pull the car in.
“I don’t want to talk about this in front of Carl Joseph.” Mike paced to the window. “He doesn’t need to listen. It’ll confuse him.”
&nbs
p; Mary studied her husband, amazed. Sometimes it was hard to believe that this was the same man who had walked out on them. “You’re right.” She went to meet her sons at the kitchen door leading to the garage.
Cody looked from her to Mike and back again. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. “Wait.” She turned to Carl Joseph and smiled. “How was your field trip?”
“Good.” He gave Cody a nervous look. “Pretty good.”
“Carl Joseph, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure.” Her younger son stood a little taller. He loved being trusted with assignments from her.
“Okay.” This was something new, something that had come as a result of the center. Before, Mary would’ve assumed Carl Joseph was capable of only the simplest jobs. Not anymore. “Could you go out back and clear the weeds from the flower garden? And then could you spray the fertilizer on the stems? I meant to do that earlier today”— she looked at Cody—“but I didn’t get to it.”
“Sure.” Carl Joseph nodded. He headed toward the back door. On the way, he waved at Mike. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”
“Good, son.” Mike was still standing by the window. “Did you see Daisy on your field trip?”
“Yes. We didn’t get to dance in the park, though.”
“Oh.” Mike stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry about that. Maybe next time.”
Cody shifted his position. Mary could feel his anger.
“Next time. Yes, maybe next time.” Carl Joseph opened the slider and stepped onto the porch outside. “I’m gonna pull weeds for Mom and fertilize, okay?”
“Okay. Do a good job.”
“I will.” He smiled, and pride shone in his eyes. “I’ll do my very best.”
Mary wanted to follow him and pull him into her arms. The turmoil in their home wasn’t his fault. And no matter how the doctor’s recent diagnosis complicated things, Carl Joseph did want his independence. He’d been proving that ever since he started at the center. Mary returned to her spot beside Mike and braced herself for what was coming.
Cody waited until Carl Joseph was outside. Then he stepped into the living room and waved his hand at the sliding door. “You’re trying to get rid of him. Is that it?”
Just Beyond the Clouds Page 7
