by Roger Bruner
Jo, you’d better be careful.
chapter thirty-eight
Once again, I was outside with Graham waiting for the sunrise. Although the temperature didn’t feel as cold as yesterday’s, he wore a thick-looking robe this time. Maybe he’d realized that the presence of three teenage ladies required a little extra modesty.
But the tranquility of the setting captivated me so completely I quickly forgot about Graham. “Kim, we need to talk.” Man, you made me jump!
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Dad kissed me on the cheek. “Good morning, Graham. Would you excuse us, please?”
The old man didn’t respond, but the prospect of losing my company appeared to affect him. Sadness? Not exactly. But there was something about the look in his eyes …
“What’s up, Dad?” I asked as he led me across the road to Red Cedar Lane. I half-expected him to say something about Jo’s irresponsible behavior last night.
As talkative as everyone had been coming back the first night, last night had been the complete opposite. Nobody seemed interested in reviewing the service. I couldn’t speak for the others, but I was too upset about Jo and Alfredo’s conduct. I would discuss it with her as soon as I could, but not in front of everyone else.
But maybe Dad wanted my opinion about it.
“I don’t know how to bring this up,” he said, fiddling with his hands as if searching for lecture notes and finding he’d forgotten them.
“Oh, that’s okay.” I proceeded with my assumption. “Jo and Alfredo made quite a spectacle of themselves last night, didn’t they?”
“Uh.” He paused. “If you say so.”
You didn’t even notice them?
“That’s not my concern this morning, though.”
So much for my assumption.
“Kim, I know about the nightmare you had on the plane.” “You …?”
“I put two and two together.” How he’d figured it out didn’t matter. My heart rate rocketed into triple digits at the realization that he knew more than I wanted him to know.
“I hoped you would tell me about it. Especially now that we’ve developed such a close relationship—one that should lead to greater trust.”
The heat I felt radiating from my face could have turned a marshmallow to goo. I didn’t need Dad to make me feel worse. I was already tripping on guilt rather than prancing on pebbles.
“Have you had more than the two I know about?”
His voice was compassionate, not angry. He was concerned, not curious. I needed to reassure him, even if it meant telling him the whole truth. Well, almost all of it, anyhow. If I hadn’t been so scared that admitting my guilt in Mom’s death would turn him against me, I would have told him months ago.
But I couldn’t take that chance now. I needed my daddy’s love more than ever. Not his hatred, resentment, or condemnation.
“I’ve had one more nightmare since we got here.” I licked my lips and looked around for the sunrise. But I couldn’t see it where we were walking. I hoped that wasn’t a sign.
“Kim …?” He looked like he was weeping inwardly over my pain.
I had to tell him.
“The fatigue may have gone away, but …” I proceeded to tell him about each nightmare. I omitted details that would make him aware of my guilt. Without them, though, the dreams probably didn’t make a whole lot of sense, and I was afraid he might ask for clarification.
Tears ran down both our cheeks. I felt a partial sense of relief.
“I wish you’d told me sooner.” Although he sounded disappointed, his voice didn’t contain a hint of condemnation. I started breathing easier.
Hopeful that he wouldn’t push for more information, I forced myself to say, “I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”
Although he had that but that’s what dads are for look in his eyes, he remained silent for a few more seconds. “I understand that you feel guilty about something. Does it have to do with your mother’s death?”
My stomach began hosting a world championship boxing match. Along with the Super Bowl and the final game in the World Cup. And they were all going on at the same time.
“Did Aleesha tell you that?”
If she had, would I be able to trust her again? Who else could it have been, though? Not Jo. She didn’t know. And all Rob knew was Jo had gone berserk after the dream I had night before last.
“No, not Aleesha. Not Rob, either.”
Come on, Dad. Don’t lie to me. It had to be Aleesha. Who else …?
“Graham mentioned it.”
“Graham? You have got to be kidding.” I might have drawn that last sentence out to twice its normal length in disbelief, but my words shot out machine gun style after that. “What did he say? He doesn’t talk much, and he isn’t the
least clear in saying anything. What does he know about my feelings, anyhow?” My reaction was undoubtedly a mixture of amazement, frustration, and defensiveness.
But Graham did know the truth. He’d overheard me praying on the road the first night we went to the prison, and he’d commented about my guilt yesterday morning.
So I’d been knocking myself out to discredit an impeccable witness. Sorry about that, Aleesha. But that’s how desperate I’d been to hide the truth from my father.
Dad smiled, and I relaxed slightly.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty about your mother’s death,” he said as if words alone might cure my problem. “You couldn’t have prevented her death, even if you’d been in the car with her. It’s taken me awhile to accept that fact for myself.”
“Dad—”
“It’s like suicide.”
I gave him a strange look.
“Family and friends punish themselves for failing to see it coming and not doing everything they might have done to prevent it. Caregivers experience the same kind of thing. If they’d just been a little more attentive to their ailing parents, couldn’t they have prevented that fatal massive stroke?”
So you think I feel guilty for not being able to prevent Mom’s death? Just keep believing that, and we’ll both feel better.
No, I realized a moment later. Only Dad would feel better. I still had to live with the guilt.
I didn’t notice that we’d turned and started heading back to the hostel until I noticed my shadow walking slump-shouldered in front of me. It looked as if it might have been trudging through deep mud, and each tiny footstep appeared to zap more of what little strength it had left.
Was that really me?
I looked at Dad to get my eyes off the ground. I hoped he
might think of some bit of wisdom to make everything right again, but he didn’t seem to have anything more to say. I faked a smile in his direction. I couldn’t blame him for doing what he thought he should do.
He couldn’t help with the real problem, though—not unless I told him the truth about it. That wasn’t about to happen. Not if fixing one problem would create an even worse one.
Still, maybe this talk had been a step in the right direction. In one small way or another.
We stood at the edge of the two-lane road waiting to cross. Two cars were visible, and that made two more than I’d seen the several days we’d been at the hostel. One turned beside us into Red Cedar Lane. The driver waved. She probably worked at the prison.
The other car was maybe fifty yards farther back. We could have crossed safely if we’d rushed, but since Dad has always been cautious about crossing streets, we waited.
I watched as the Honda Accord drew closer. I could see a cell phone in the driver’s left hand. I couldn’t see her mouth moving, though, so I assumed she was listening. When she was about twenty feet away, her car swerved unexpectedly in our direction.
I heard myself screaming and felt Dad jerking me out of the way.
chapter thirty-nine
Baby girl,” Dad said as he looked into my eyes, “we’re going home today—tomorrow at the latest.” “Today,” I said. “No reason to wait until tomorrow to go back to the
hostel.”
The ER doctor had said I didn’t have any real injuries. Dad wouldn’t let me ask about the driver who’d been using her cell phone when she lost control of the car. That was okay.
Under the circumstances, I didn’t want to know. What I’d just gone through had been too much like viewing my mom’s accident in retrospect, even though I hadn’t actually seen this woman take her Honda for a flying leap into the field. I did learn that she didn’t hit a tree, though. “I can hardly wait to get back and start painting. I don’t know why all of you had to come over here to get me checked over.” Huh? Graham, you came, too? That was sweet of you. “Fact is, I don’t know why you brought me here. That car didn’t hit me, and you’ve wasted the whole morning.”
Dad’s face disagreed. So I managed a weak grin. “You saved me, Pops.”
Had the doctor given me something for the pain in my shoulder? Dad jerked me out of the way pretty hard, didn’t he? Surely Dr. what’s-her-hair had medicated me with something strange, though. Strange and potent. I’d never called my father ‘Pops’ before. Not even in fun.
“I may have saved your life, but you started screaming like a madwoman as soon as you realized what had happened, and you didn’t stop until the doctor gave you a shot.” That question
answered. “And that is why you’re here.”
A madwoman? Uh, bad choice of words, Dad. I’d already been worried that this guilt might drive me insane.
“Am I screaming now, Dad?” I almost said Pop again. I felt half normal and half loopy. I guess that still added up to loopy. Like a woman not being just “half-pregnant” at four-and-a-half months.
“No, and I’ll gag you on the plane if you start up again.” I loved his cute grin, but I didn’t like what he was saying.
“On the plane? You said we were going back to the hostel.”
“No, Kim. You said that. I called Dr. Lancaster while the ER doctor was examining you. He said to bring you home.”
“No! What does he know? He’s here and I’m there. Whatever.”
Dad was pretty smart for a fortyish-year-old father. He didn’t argue with me.
“We’ll talk about it later—when that shot wears off and you’re 100 percent rational again.”
That was the last thing I heard for quite some time.
The smell of steak, fries, and—yes, Graham!—homemade rolls woke me up. I wished we could take him home with us. At least we’d eat well and he wouldn’t wear us out by talking too much.
Home? No. We weren’t going home. Seems like Dad said something to me at the hospital about going home, but I must have dreamed it. We still had a week and a half to go on this project.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” Aleesha said with a grin. “Fine construction worker you are, lazing the day away in bed.”
In bed? I looked around. Huh! I wasn’t in my sleeping bag. Was this … was I in Graham’s bedroom and Graham’s bed? Must be. None of the units had beds yet. Besides that, the temperature was comfortable. I definitely wasn’t in one of the units.
“What … time?”
“Suppertime, girl. Did Mr. Scott jerk your nose out of joint or just your arm?”
My arm? Uh, had the ER doctor even mentioned that? I’d probably been too out of it to feel her fix it. Ah, but the resulting pain was what that loopiness-inducing medication was supposed to kill.
Things were starting to come back to me. While nobody else was around, I told Aleesha about my discussion with Dad about my nightmares and the assumption he’d made about my guilt.
“Just let him think that, girl,” she said. “Sometimes the whole truth doesn’t edify anyone.”
I’d never heard anyone rationalize a half-truth so biblically before.
When Jo stopped by a few minutes later, Aleesha and I cracked up.
“Wha …?” she said in irritated protest.
“You must not have passed a mirror on the way in,” I told her.
“You didn’t think you were white enough?” Aleesha said. “You must have bathed in paint this time.”
A look of confusion appeared on Jo’s face. She might have thought we were exaggerating, but she couldn’t have covered herself more completely if she’d filled a bathtub with white paint and jumped in with all her clothes on.
Aleesha found a masculine-looking hand mirror on Graham’s chest of drawers and handed it to her.
I had to give Jo credit. A month earlier—maybe a week earlier—I would’ve expected to see a fiery red blush showing through her fine new vanilla coating, but she cracked up, too, and that got all three of us going.
“What in the …?” Dad said as he walked in. “Oh, the three
of you … together.” That apparently explained everything.
He might not have realized it, but this was probably the closest Jo, Aleesha, and I had ever been. Maybe we’d even become three best friends.
“Dad,” I said as soon as I could quit laughing, “you didn’t say something in the ER about going home, did you?”
His mouth straightened from a smile to a father-knows-best look that was far too serious for my taste.
“We’ll go.” Aleesha motioned to Jo, who’d already started getting up off the edge of the bed.
“Don’t leave me, guys!” I said. I shot them a desperate look.
“You girls may stay,” Dad said. “Kim, your reaction to that accident this morning was off-the-scale. Dr. Lancaster agrees. We don’t have any choice about taking you home and back to see him.”
Jo’s mouth twisted slightly, but I didn’t make any effort to figure out why.
“Dad, I’m fine now. We had that great talk about my guilt this morning, and I know how supportive you’ll be now that you understand. I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful dad.”
Dad couldn’t see Jo’s gag-me motion behind his back, but I almost broke out laughing at her. I’d never dared to try wrapping him around my little finger before our relationship improved, and I hadn’t wanted or needed to since.
At least everything I’d said was true, even if my motive was less than pure. But he didn’t seem to have been paying attention.
“Since I promised to take care of Jo, she’ll have to go home with us. I’ve talked to Aleesha’s folks, and they don’t mind if she stays to the end.”
I was ready to hop out of bed and start pacing at breakneck speed, but I didn’t. “But we’ll be letting Rob down.”
“I discussed our situation with him. He shared some relevant news. We’ve been so much more efficient than he expected, he doesn’t have enough work left to keep us here a second week. So we would’ve been heading home in four more days, anyhow.”
“What about the cost of changing our unchangeable tickets?” A logical appeal to a man’s money sense was worth a try.
“No good, Kim. I factored in that kind of expense when I budgeted for this trip. I wasn’t 100 percent confident you were up to coming, so I actually paid more to get unrestricted tickets so we could make penalty-free changes if we needed to.”
That man hadn’t missed a trick. Maybe I should have had dozens of my own left, but I didn’t. I was about to use the last one I could think of. It was drastic. Drastic. Almost certain to fail. Moreover, I wondered if I had enough courage to make the effort.
Aleesha could have done it easily enough. But I wasn’t Aleesha.
“Dad, you remember when you and I asked Mr. Snelling if Jo could come?” “Of course.”
“Do you recall what Mr. Snelling said?”
“About …?”
“About Jo’s age?” Jo’s face lit up. She knew what I was doing, but Aleesha still wore a blank look. She hadn’t been at the Snellings’ house with Dad and me, so she didn’t know what I was up to.
“He said …” Dad must have had a lightbulb moment. “You rascal!” As serious as this discussion had been, he actually laughed. “Are you trying to tell me I can’t make you come home because you’re eighteen
now?”
Aleesha not only joined in the laughter but also gave herself one of those “Now why didn’t I think of that?” slaps
on the forehead that made her head sound empty.
“Dad, I respect you almost as much as I love you, but this is my life we’re talking about. You’re trying to protect me, but I don’t need protecting. Not like I did when you snatched me out of harm’s way this morning, anyhow. I’m not fighting you. I’m just asking you to let me grow up and make this decision myself.”
Jo and Aleesha both applauded. Rob had shown up sometime during this discussion, and he gave me a thumbs-up. And—lo and behold—Graham stood in the doorway wearing a smile so slight that I was the only person who could have recognized it.
Then again, I’d always claimed I could see cats smile.
“Okay,” Dad said. “Looks like I’m outvoted. But if you have any more nightmares—I’m counting on you to be honest with me—we’re going home that day if I have to tie you up and throw you in the suitcase. You understand?”
I nodded. Although I’d won the battle, had I won the war? How could I keep from having another nightmare when I hadn’t been able to prevent the second and third ones?
I couldn’t very well go without sleep for the rest of the week. Nothing like a little extra pressure, huh, kid?
chapter forty
After supper, I needed a break from the, uh, older adults. I hated to admit it, but sometimes I had trouble thinking of Jo, Aleesha, and me as adults. It wasn’t “them and us” with Dad, Rob, and Graham, though. Not in a hostile way, but talking with them longer than a few minutes at a time reminded me that we lived in completely different worlds.
We probably belonged to a different animal species, too. If the men would just hibernate for a few years while we girls caught up, that would help to level the mountain between us.
“You two want to walk to Red Cedar with me? Those men”—I did a Vanna White sweep in the direction of Dad, Rob, and Graham, who were busy with their own conversation at the other end of the living room—”aren’t very good at girl talk.”
