Freedom

by Faith Potts

  “Thanks, Glory,” I whisper. “We’ll be right there.”

  “Thank you both so much for all you’ve done for James,” Callie is saying when I turn back around. “And for making me aware of this. Would it be okay if I came to see him?”

  “Absolutely.” Uncle James grins at me. “You’d be more than welcome here.”

  “Please don’t say anything to James about talking to me.” Her voice holds a tremor as she hesitates before continuing. “Not yet. I plan to drive to our parents’ house, and then come there to see him. I don’t know how my visit with them will go over, as I probably won’t be welcome. But they are still our mom and dad and deserve to know that he’s all right.”

  I just grin back at Joe and let him answer. “I think that would be great, Callie. From some things he’s said, I have a feeling James would love to see you again after being separated for so long.”

  “Oh, good.” Relief floods her voice. “You have no idea how much that means to me. If all goes well, I can probably be to Capeton sometime tomorrow afternoon. I can be to Mom and Dad’s in a couple hours—not that I’m doubting you two or James, but I want to hear their side of the story. And then I’ll be coming straight that way.”

  “That sounds fine,” Uncle Joe assures her. “Safe travels.”

  The call disconnected, he winks at me. “I do believe we’d call that a successful mission, Lexie Lou.”

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || James

  When Brian told me that Sunday lunch with Joe and his wife was a revered tradition around here, I couldn’t help but smile. A home-cooked meal after eating hospital food, takeout, and the questionable content these two attempt to whip together? Sign me up. I’ll even deal with an hour or two of socializing, if that’s what it takes.

  I’m ready in the apartment’s living room when Brian and Lester get home from church. As they unload from Brian’s pickup, I amble out the door and meet up with them to walk the length of sidewalk, which ends at the edge of Joe’s lawn.

  The nice home at the back of the ministry’s property is bordered by a well-kept yard. A paved drive loops around to the side of the house, then continues around back to Joe’s shop. In the drive behind Joe’s wife’s car sits an ‘80-something Dodge pickup that’s in need of a tailgate…among other things.

  “I wonder if it’s a family Sunday,” Lester muses, wheeling along to my right.

  “A what?” I eye the truck, wondering who in their right mind and with a decent income would drive that.

  “Every few weeks, Joe’s nephew and his family come over as well,” Brian fills in. “You’ve met Kellon, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I nod as we turn the corner in the drive and pass the pickup.

  “And of course, Alex is here every week. She’s like a daughter to Joe and Mrs. Gloria.”

  I nearly trip—with my perfectly healthy leg. Alex drives that outdated hunk of rust? Lester brings her up like it’s totally normal…so the weird vehicle must not be throwing them off.

  By the time we reach the door, I’m wondering if that girl will ever not surprise me. Not that I’ll likely have contact with her for long.

  Brian sprints ahead and knocks on the door while I follow Lester up the ramp. As I duck past the swing and cross the nicely furnished front porch, a gentle voice drifts out the door and meets my ears. “Good to see you, Brian! Come on in and make yourself at home. We’ll eat as soon as Kellon’s gang of tardies show up.”

  I smile, surprising myself. Mrs. Gloria truly loves everyone she meets and actively seeks to make sure you know it.

  As we’re ushered into the house, in the space between the kitchen and open living room, another voice meets my ears. I cast a sidelong look into the kitchen to my left and find myself smiling yet again.

  Sashaying around the kitchen, Miss Lorance manages to toss together a fresh salad while waving a knife and singing along to Lee Ann Womack’s finest at the top of her lungs.

  She whirls toward the doorway—and stops mid-word when she spies three guys standing there, amused and greatly entertained.

  Laughing at herself, Alex drops the knife into the sink and rinses her hands. “Sorry about that, fellows. My concerts are usually private, but I love this song too much to keep silent.”

  “Don’t let us stop you.” Lester comments, following Brian toward the living room where Joe already sits, reading the paper.

  Instead of following the crowd, I hobble into the kitchen and sink onto a bar stool on the near side of the island. “Mind if I stick around?”

  “Not at all.” She flashes me a sweet smile—yes, sweet. From the girl who’s usually drilling me into the ground. Today she looks sweet, though, obviously dressed for church in slacks and a ruffled top, with her hair piled high on her head.

  “I wouldn’t be much help, but I can be moral support.”

  She grins and moves the salad off to the side and begins cleaning up, just as the second verse of the song resounds from the speaker wedged on top of the microwave. Something about not fearing distant mountains or avoiding hardships.

  I conveniently ignore the knowing look Alex casts my way. Me, fear the mountain I still have to climb? Of course not.

  Only, she knows better than that.

  “The doctor is in!” Joe calls from the next room. Judging by the smile from Gloria and groan from Alex, I’m guessing that’s a common pun around here.

  Still singing softly, Alex edges across the room to the window and watches, finger in the blinds, as three towheads pile out of the backseat of a minivan. “Be prepared for utter chaos.”

  I snicker, leaning nearer to the pane to see out the window. “Tell me their names again?”

  “Sydney and Adelaide are the twins. Don’t feel bad if you get them confused—I do too. And then little Jordan follows them along everywhere. Did I mention Haley is slightly obsessed with geography and foreign countries?”

  Alex’s suggestion of pure and total chaos could never have prepared me for the whirlwind of madness that descended on the house as soon as Gloria opened the door to Kellon’s kiddos.

  I wisely choose to remain in the kitchen, which is a safe region even when the band of rug-rats zip in to give “Auntie Lex” a hug.

  “So do you and Kellon have any other siblings?” I ask after the kids zoom off to chatter in Joe’s listening ears. Elbow on the bar, I watch Alex arrange plates, food dishes, and a drink station so that everyone can file through and continue to the dining room to eat.

  “Nope, just the two of us.” It seems like her eyes darken a bit at my question, but she turns then, standing on tiptoe and stretching to reach glasses from a tall cabinet. She can barely reach them, so I stand and walk over to her.

  “Might I be of assistance?”

  She glances over her shoulder—eyes definitely not holding the same light they had when those little kids bounded into her outstretched arms. “I could get it… But I may as well let you earn your keep.” She takes a step back and lets me grasp the glasses and hand them to her, until we reach a count of eight—kids get unbreakable tumblers, I’m told.

  “Now can I ask why that was a sensitive question?” I ask as she carries the glasses to where the tea pitchers already sit at the end of the counter. I’m probably pushing my limits by butting my head into her personal life, but it isn’t like she’s totally respectful of my privacy.

  She shrugs, surprising me again with an honest answer. “I guess it isn’t that major. Our parents divorced when we were pretty young. We haven’t seen Dad in years.” She twists to face me, coming back for the rest of the glasses and giving me the saddest little smile. “Joe and Gloria have been more like parents to us than our biological parents.”

  Well, that explains some things. I lean against the counter, reading her expression, wondering if there’s more to come.

  “They’re special people.”

  “Glad you noticed.” Shooting me a cocky grin, she twists on her bare heel to fetch a bag of ice from the
freezer and begin filling glasses.

  “You act like I’m heartless, not limbless.”

  Her hand that’s full of dripping ice cubes pauses halfway to the next glass and her eyes lift…and I know I’ve went to far with my thoughtless excuse for humor again.

  “That’s not at all what I meant, James.”

  “No, it isn’t.” I’d like to smack myself right about now. “And I knew that. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “It’s not that; I was hardly paying attention to what you said.” Abandoning the ice, she grabs a hand towel for her icy fingers and walks back across the kitchen toward me. “Joe and Gloria really are special people. They were there for me when no one else was.”

  I blink, drawn to the depth behind her words. “For me, too.”

  She stares back at me for so long that it should become awkward, but somehow it doesn’t. Then little Jordan bounds in and launches himself in Alex’s arms and the moment is lost. But the meaning remains.

  We gather in the kitchen for prayer led by Joe, then file through for food and drinks before moving on to the dining room. Without room for objection or argument, Alex delivers two teas to the dining room for Lester and me, then returns for her own plate.

  Once seated, I catch the concerned glances Alex keeps sending me, knowing even without them that my hand is trembling. I release the fork and reach for my sweet tea glass. At least I can handle this part of a meal.

  As I reach for the fork again, Alex leans closer, brow wrinkled. “Are you okay?”

  Sighing, I set the fork down again and twist to face her. “I’m left handed. Or, well… I was.”

  Eyes lighting with realization, Alex continues to watch me for a long moment, lips pressed. “Oh my… I never even knew. Bless your heart.”

  Swallowing, I look away—I can’t keep looking into her eyes. I reach for my fork and return to my meal. “Well, aren’t you just a typical southern belle.”

  Batting her eyelashes, Alex flips her hair over her shoulder, adeptly taking the hint to drop the topic. “Just call me Georgia.”

  Chapter Eight || James

  Having successfully attached my prosthetic by myself for only the second time, I reach for my cane and stand from the side of the bed. Asking Brian or Lester to help me is humiliating, even though they’re always more than willing to offer a hand. It’s become easier to get around on my own in the past week, though, and my mobility is soaring.

  I amble across the room and into the bathroom, stopping in front of the mirror. I set the cane against the vanity and study my reflection for a moment. Standing totally on my own—now, this feels right.

  Alex says I don’t need the assistance of the cane anymore, that I’m steady enough to not be a hazard to society. When she cocked her head to the side and insinuated that I was clinging to it like a toddler would a security blanket, I nearly choked on laughter.

  Maybe she’s right, though. Relying less on the cane, I move slowly back into the bedroom and grab my phone off the dresser.

  “Hey, James?”

  I look up to see Brian standing in the doorway. “Yeah?”

  He nods his head to the right, in the direction of the stairs. “You’ve got company.”

  Company? “Is it Alex?” I ask, walking toward him. She comes by sometimes on weekends to help out around the grounds, as I’ve learned. It’s Monday afternoon though—not to mention Alex might have barged in without knocking.

  “Nope, but it is a chick.” He points to my cane, stepping back as I move out into the hall. “Aren’t you supposed to leave that here?”

  I ignore Brian’s question and follow him downstairs. I can ‘practice’ later; right now I just don’t want to fall flat on my face.

  “Did you invite her in?”

  “She turned me down. Said she’d rather talk to you on the porch—alone.”

  I groan as I follow Brian down the hall. What on earth is going on around this place?

  Wiggling his eyebrows as if this is great fun, he sidesteps into the living room. “Have fun.”

  I ignore his chuckling and continue to the door, only a few paces away. Straightening my shoulders, I grasp the doorknob and swing it open, ready to face anything.

  Or so I thought.

  A young woman with blonde, shoulder-length curls stands with her back toward me, twisting when she hears the door open. Square black glasses sit on her nose, looking too large for her small heart-shaped face and petite frame.

  I look intently into her familiar eyes—and nearly choke. “Callie?”

  She smiles, ducking her chin and stepping toward me hesitantly. “Hey, James.”

  I swallow against the lump in my throat and push aside the nagging questions. The hows, whens, and whys can wait. My sister is standing in front of me. “What are you doing here, shorty?”

  She visibly relaxes at my greeting, taking another step. Her gaze roams from my face to my shoulder, down to my prosthesis, and backtracks.

  Averting my eyes, I wince. This is why I’m not going home. Why I avoid going out in public. Why I hadn’t reached out to her. The stares hurt almost as much as the whispered words.

  “I wasn’t sure what type of welcome I would receive showing up like this.”

  I clear my throat, still recovering from the shock of seeing her after…what? Eighteen months? Two years? “Yeah, well… It’s good to see you, Cal. Just so long as you didn’t bring your parents with you. How’d you find me, anyway?”

  Her brow furrows, eyes squinting. “Um, no, they’re not here. And as to how I found you, I can explain about that.”

  “Oh?” I murmur, wondering why she can’t just answer. How on earth did she find me?

  She only nods, then glances out the side of her glasses—a sign of nervousness since childhood.

  Well, this is awkward. I tilt my head towards the plastic lawn chairs to my left, beneath the living room windows that overlook the parking lot. “Wanna sit?”

  “Oh, sure.” She takes a final step toward me. “But…can I have a hug first?” She smiles, sweet and brilliant and innocent. “I haven’t seen you in forever, you know.”

  I clear my throat yet again, wondering why this is so difficult. Callie is my sister, for pete’s sake. “Um…yeah.”

  I lean my cane inside the door and take the two steps to reach her. Without a word, her arms come around my waist, snuggling in close. I hug her back the best I can, surprised at how good it feels to know she still cares, and rest my chin on the top of her head. I’d forgotten how short she is next to me.

  Callie pulls away a few moments later and I release her. Her lashes glisten with tears, which she wipes at discreetly, but I see anyway. I’ve always known when she’s upset…but I haven’t treated her like a guy should treat his sister.

  “Hey, uh, listen.”

  She gives up on the tears and looks at me over her glasses. “Yeah?”

  “I need to apologize for all the times I made fun of you for going to church and becoming a Christian…”

  She laughs—maybe she expected something more ambiguous. “I think I can move past that.”

  “‘Cause I, uh… I got saved a couple weeks ago.”

  Her eyes light up behind damp lashes, and her hands fly up to cover her mouth. “Oh, James—oh my goodness!” She bounds forward and hugs me again, much more exuberant and laughing. “Wow! How did this come about?”

  Chuckling and hugging her, without much of the awkward tension from before, I suddenly want to tell her everything—and hear all about her life. I nod toward the chairs again. “Let’s sit down, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” She glances at me with concern, still holding onto my arm. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I say quietly, wishing after the fact that it didn’t come out so harsh and clipped. She doesn’t mean anything by it. I walk to the chairs without tripping—a success in itself—and take a seat next to my little sister.

  Callie watches me silently for a second, her eyes drooping to the prosthet
ic. She catches me watching and blushes. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to stare. I’m just still in shock of all that I’ve learned in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Twenty-four hours?”

  She nods. “I’ll tell you all about that, but I want to hear about you first.”

  You really don’t, Cal… I smile softly, shaking my head. “You start and tell me what of the story you know. I’ll interrupt you when I need to insert something.”

  “Okay.” She smiles back, lips quirking. “Well, I didn’t know much until yesterday afternoon. Not even that you’d…been injured.” Another concerned glance in my direction.

  I don’t answer; I don’t need to. She obviously knows everything now.

  “I was about to leave my apartment for a dinner appointment when I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. I answered it anyway, thinking it might be something work related—although that would have been odd for a Sunday afternoon. Anyway, it was a man named Joe Craig.”

  I sit up straighter. Joe called her?

  She nods, answering my unasked question. “Yeah, he and a young woman named…Alex, I believe? He said she was his niece or something.”

  So Alex was in on this. With those two, you never know what’s going to happen… Realizing Callie is still watching me, her eyes dancing with questions, I nod. “Yeah, I know Alex from physical therapy.”

  “She mentioned that, after she and Mr. Craig told me about what’s been going on with you lately.”

  Staring out into the side yard, I half expect her to ask me something about my depression-charged actions several weeks ago. Instead, she goes on about how wonderful Joe and Alex seemed—to which I silently agree.

  Just as she sets into telling me something about how many times she got lost trying to find Capeton, I hold up my hand to stop her. “Wait a minute…”

  Callie halts, watching me with those deep, wide eyes. “Yes?”

  I rub my thumb in a circular pattern up and down the chair’s armrest, plenty enough times to wear the paint plumb off of the stupid thing. “Did he tell you about what I…was…was gonna do awhile back?”