A Kingsbury Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  And they couldn’t bring back the man who had always been bigger than life, the man who had given everything for his convictions.

  “Daddy, I’m here. I miss you … ” Her words took wing and blended with a chorus of whistling wind gusts. Faith looked up and stared hard at the stars, dancing in the clear, cold, late-night sky. “God, please, tell Daddy I love him.”

  Jordan wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in Bethany for three days, but based on the media coverage and the size of the demonstrations against what he was trying to do, he knew one thing: He wasn’t a popular figure. For that reason he holed up in his hotel room most of the day, aware that his photograph was on the front page of the paper. He’d spoken to Hawkins earlier and somehow the firm had seen a copy of the article.

  “What’s this, ‘God rules’ garbage?” Hawkins had blasted the question across the phone line, and Jordan had to ease away from the receiver to protect his ears. “Was that the only place you could set up a press conference? You might as well have been talking for the other side.”

  “I had no control over the photographer’s angle.” Jordan had never felt more insecure about his job. He’d figured out that the ten thousand dollars must have been only a fraction of the bonus money. Otherwise the partners would never have been so interested in the Bethany case. But none of that changed the fact that it was up to him to make sure public opinion was at least balanced in these final days before the hearing.

  Hawkins had ended the conversation by asking Jordan the strangest question. “You haven’t seen the girl, have you?”

  “The girl?”

  “The girl. Faith Evans. Have you seen her?”

  For the tenth time in as many days Jordan felt as though his entire existence was founded on shirting sand. Why would Hawkins care about that? And why would he ask in the first place? Jordan hadn’t told anyone about his childhood friendship with Faith Evans. No one but T. J., and Teej was his best friend. No way he’d say anything.

  Before Jordan could muster an answer, Hawkins barked the question again.

  “No, sir, I haven’t seen her.”

  “Good. She’s the enemy, Jordan. Don’t forget it.” He paused. “Don’t let us down, we’re counting on you.”

  Six hours had passed since then, and just after dark Jordan managed to sneak out for a bucket of fried chicken. Now that was gone, and he felt restless again. His time at the city park in New York had been cut short by the close encounter with the street thugs and besides, nothing in the city could compare with what Bethany offered. As he paced the boxy motel room he realized the only place he really wanted to go was Jericho Park. He’d allowed himself to journey down almost all the roads of his past, but there were a few he hadn’t yet traveled and there would be no place like Jericho Park to allow the years to fade away.

  He dug through his suitcase and came up with an old New York State sweatshirt and a Mets baseball cap. He slipped on a pair of tennis shoes and the parka he’d worn the other night, pulling it up close to his neck. Locking the motel door behind him, he set out on foot.

  He realized there was no reason to walk fast—no sirens in the distance, no men with knives looking for solitary prey. Just the simple sleepy streets and suburban homes that made up the neighborhoods a mile from downtown. He took in every detail as he made his way closer to the park, noticing how little the area had changed in sixteen years. For a moment he pretended he was thirteen again, making his way home from Benjamin’s Market with a quart of milk and a loaf of bread, confident that his mother and sister were waiting for him behind their nicely painted front door.

  Jordan sighed and continued down the familiar streets.

  That was the hardest part of being in Bethany. On the outside it all looked the same, felt the same. Even the cool early winter air was the same. But beneath the surface everything was different. It was the same feeling he’d had looking at his mother lying in a coffin. The shell of the woman was there, but none of what mattered most.

  Jericho Park lay ahead of him, and he crossed Main, avoiding the circles of light from the street lamps. He was fifty yards from the bench when he saw a woman sitting alone, staring at the walled-up statue.

  Fine. The other side of the park’s as good as this one. He veered to the right, careful not to attract the woman’s attention as he padded along a narrow strip of grass between the sidewalk and the curb. At the far end of the park, he turned left and walked in the darkest shadows until he reached a different bench. He sat down and allowed his eyes to adjust to the lack of light as he surveyed the park. The plywood around the statue stood out like a rusted Chevy on a neatly manicured lawn. He’d ask for brick, of course. Ten feet of dark brick, with a plaque explaining how the public had a right to choose. A nice touch to make the walls less of an eyesore, more of a message for the children of future generations.

  Jordan let the words play in his mind and heard himself sigh. Who was he trying to kid? There were no cameras rolling now, no political posturing needed for the quiet hours of the night. The wall looked ridiculous and would look equally so made of wood or straw or the highest quality dark brick. He leaned back and stretched his feet out in front of him. Faith was right. The statue belonged to the people and they had a right to keep it standing—visible for all the world to see.

  Staring at the strange-looking walls, he found himself missing the Jesus statue, the way the arms stretched out, the Scripture verse inscribed below. Come to me all you who are weary and I will …

  Jordan blinked. What was he doing? How could he miss something that had played a part in the greatest deception of his childhood? He’d had more faith than all the people in the New Testament combined and still his mother died, still his sister had been taken away. He remembered the way his mother spoke so clearly to Heidi and him that last day, as though she’d known she had only hours to live.

  He closed his eyes … feeling again his desperation as that awful day wore on and his mother’s weakness returned. She coughed and gasped for breath, frightening them until finally Jordan ran next door and summoned Faith’s family. Immediately Faith, her sister, and their parents took up their places at the Riley home, helping his mom and comforting Jordan and Heidi. Faith’s parents took turns sitting beside his mother, while Jordan stood stiffly in the hallway outside and Heidi wept in the arms of one of the other adults. Jordan remembered staring at his mother through the open door, willing her to sit up. Come on, Mom … get up. Talk to us …

  For a while she seemed to get better. Her coughing episodes grew less frequent and Jordan dared to believe that maybe … just maybe … a miracle was taking place before his eyes. “Mr. Moses—” Jordan had been hopeful as he came up behind Faith’s large father and tugged on his sleeve—“I think the cough’s going away. Maybe she’s coming around some.”

  Mr. Moses clenched his jaw and led Jordan out of the room. Then, in quiet tones, he explained the situation. “She’s coughing less because she has less air. Her breathing is slower and she’s drifting in and out of our world here. Sort of like she’s halfway to heaven, Jordan.”

  Jordan must have looked confused because Faith’s father put a hand on his shoulder and stared deeply into his eyes. “It won’t be long, Jordan. Your mother is dying, son.”

  As awful as the news was, Jordan remembered feeling some comfort in the way Mr. Moses had called him son. As though every shred of support and security wasn’t slipping away from him and that even if his mother did die, he and Heidi wouldn’t be alone in the world. Jordan nodded and looked around the man at his mother. “Should we … should we tell her good-bye?”

  Faith’s father had tears in his eyes. “Heidi said you already did. I guess your mother had a chance to talk to you earlier today, is that right?”

  Jordan nodded, his eyes trained on the form of his mother in the next room. “We had a real nice talk.”

  Mr. Moses squeezed his shoulder again and pulled him close, hugging him the way Jordan had always imagined a father might.
“I’m glad, Jordan. Really, I am.”

  Then, even though she could no longer hear them, Jordan and Heidi returned to the bedroom and sat on either side of the bed, holding their mother’s hands and talking to her in quiet tones. Heidi was not ashamed to cry and she wept throughout the day, occasionally throwing herself across her mother and holding her close despite the fact that their mother was no longer able to respond. “Don’t leave us, Mommy.”

  Jordan hadn’t felt the same freedom. His world was changing with each passing hour, and any moment he was about to be the head of the household, the only person who could look after Heidi. He kept his back straight and his lower lip stiff as he squeezed his mother’s hand again and again, praying for some sort of response. He had tears, for sure, but they were quiet tears. Tears that coursed down his face and made wet marks on the legs of his jeans. Now and then Heidi would come up behind him and take hold of his shoulders, resting her head against his back as she sobbed silently.

  They stayed that way for hours, Heidi and Jordan on the bed with their dying mother. Finally, just before six o’clock that evening, she made three quick gasping sounds and then exhaled long and slow. Even now Jordan remembered the sound. It was the same sound his bicycle tire had made back when he was twelve and had run over a pop bottle on the way home from school. A long, slow hiss that seemed to last forever until there was no air left.

  “Mom!” Jordan shook her so she might draw another breath, but as he watched, her features relaxed and a tranquillity came over her. One moment she’d been there, fighting for her life, and the next she was simply gone, leaving nothing but the shell of the body she’d once occupied. He remembered being sure she’d gone to heaven. Since then, though, he’d convinced himself that heaven didn’t exist. The peace on his mother’s face after drawing her last breath was merely death taking another victim. Heidi’s reaction had caused an ache deep in his heart, like a bruise that never healed even to this day.

  His sister realized what was happening at the same time Jordan did and she screamed, dropping their mothers hand and running across the room to Faith’s mother, clinging first to her and then moving alongside the bed back to Jordan. “Bring her back, Jordan, make her come back!”

  He winced and eased himself out of the memory. Heidi had been terrified of being alone, living without their mother. Only Jordan’s presence in her life had given her the security she’d needed to survive that day and the ones that followed.

  He felt tears stinging at his eyes and wondered how long it had been since he’d grieved the loss of his mother and sister. Of course, back then he hadn’t imagined he’d lose Heidi the same week. Somehow he’d figured he could raise her by himself, that they might continue to share the house on Oak Street, eating an occasional meal with Faith’s family and getting themselves off to school on time each day. He’d had no understanding of utility bills and food costs or that there might be a law against children living alone.

  They’d been taking care of themselves for months, ever since their mother got sick. Why should that change now that she was gone? As they got through the next few days, it wasn’t a problem either of them considered. Faith’s mother was over often, taking them to the funeral home and helping them understand what was happening. Looking back, Jordan realized the church or Faith’s family must have paid for his mom’s funeral, the casket, and burial plot, because certainly his mother had no money. Once when he was old enough to search the records he looked into what had happened to their house. According to his file—which lacked any specific detail—the house was sold to pay his mother’s medical bills.

  Jordan guessed that the government took the rest.

  The days after his mother’s death were as much a blur now as they were sixteen years ago, but in the still and quiet darkness of Jericho Park, Jordan did his best to remember. They had worn their nicest church clothes for the funeral, and Heidi hadn’t been able to pull herself away from him. She was so sad, so afraid at the loss of their mother that she wouldn’t speak to anyone but Jordan. Especially the morning of the funeral service.

  “She w-won’t really be there, right Jordan? In the wooden box?” Heidi had found him in the bathroom that morning getting ready. She was so distraught she could barely speak. “Even though … even though her body will be there, right?” Tears filled her eyes, as they did all the time back then.

  Jordan adjusted his white button-down shirt that the Moses family bought him and rubbed a dab of gel into his hair. It was the last time he’d see his mother and he wanted to look his best. “No, Heidi. She won’t really be there. Having her body there is just a way of giving people a chance to say their good-byes.”

  “But … but she’s already gone, right? Like if I talk to her, she won’t be able to hear me, right?” Heidi stood inches from him, waiting anxiously for his hand to be free so she could take hold of it.

  Jordan set the tube of gel down and pulled her close. “She won’t hear you, but God will. Remember what Mom said? Don’t stop praying … and one day when we go to heaven she’ll be waiting for us.”

  Jordan frowned into the cool dark air. Had those really been his words? Had he truly felt that confident in the hours before his mother’s funeral? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he’d vowed to take care of Heidi until she was grown. Other than Faith and her family, Heidi was all he had and clearly she needed him.

  The air was getting colder and frost was appearing on the park grass. Jordan looked across the field and searched for the woman he’d seen earlier. Whoever she was, she’d gone home. Jordan knew he should do the same. The hearing was scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning. But somehow he didn’t want to leave this place—or the memories of those days after his mother’s death, the last days with Heidi. Jordan remembered making breakfast for her and doing laundry and making sure they got to bed on time. Faith’s mother was there a lot, and so was her father. But most of the time Jordan had been in charge, and though they were still reeling from the loss of their mother, there was comfort that went beyond words in the fact that they had each other.

  How long had that time lasted? Jordan used to think it was a week or so, but now it seemed more like two or three days at the most. Either way, it hadn’t been long enough. Faith’s father had pulled him aside and promised he’d do all he could to see that Jordan and Heidi stayed together. Certainly he hadn’t contacted the state and reported them living alone. But somehow the office of Social Services got wind of their situation and one afternoon—the day they’d returned to school—two workers came and asked them to pack their things. Heidi had been terrified about going away, even for a night, but the state workers promised she’d be back with Jordan in a day or so.

  Promises that meant nothing at all.

  He remembered Heidi’s cries and wide-eyed terror as one of the workers drove her away from their home. Jordan had watched her go, believing he would die from the separation and helplessness of that moment. He had promised to take care of her and suddenly in an hour’s time she was gone.

  His heart felt tight and trapped at the memory, awash in an ocean of pain that still hadn’t even begun to subside. “Heidi, where are you?” Jordan stared out ahead of him and wondered what she might look like now. Heidi … his little sister … the one who had depended on him for everything that last year they were together.

  Another onset of tears burned his eyes. Jordan rarely afforded himself the chance to miss her this way, but here, with visions of that terrible afternoon as real as they’d been in the months that followed, he felt as though his heart would break from missing Heidi. He should have done more to find her, searched for her, refused to give up. Instead he’d made a series of bad decisions, choices that only cost him whatever hope he’d had of getting them back together again.

  There was a rustling behind him and he whipped around. First New York City, now Bethany. Wasn’t any place safe from the crazies who roamed the night? He scanned the bushes and a movement caught his eye. It looked like the same
woman who’d been at his bench earlier that night, and she was walking toward him. Before he could clearly see her face she spoke.

  “Jordan, it’s me … Faith.”

  His heart skipped a beat as a series of emotions washed over him. Shock at seeing her here at the park, seeking out solitude at the same hour he’d chosen; guilt and sadness, and as she came into the light, a desire he hadn’t known before in his life. She was so beautiful, her heart so clearly like it had been when they were kids living next door on Oak Street. It was all he could do to keep from meeting her halfway, taking her in his arms and apologizing for everything that had happened over the past few months.

  He read her eyes as easily as he had sixteen years ago. She cared for him still—regardless of the war they were waging against each other, she cared. Then he moved to one side of the bench and patted the empty place beside him.

  There were a dozen things he could think to say to her, but instead he held her gaze and hoped she, too, could see beyond the battle lines.

  21

  Faith was still quite a ways off when she recognized Jordan. Something in the way he stretched out and stared off in the distance—the tilt of his head and the long legs that refused to stay bunched up beneath him—the same as when he was a boy.

  For a moment she stopped and considered turning back. What would she say to him? After all they were enemies now, weren’t they? But in the quiet of the darkened park the trappings of their current situation seemed to fall away. Here, in the shadows of the walled-in Jesus statue, they were merely two grown-up kids who’d lost each other a very long time ago when life was its most impressionable.

  Looking at Jordan she saw him as he’d been in his mother’s room the day she died, the way he’d held his head high at her funeral, the way he’d clung to his sister the day she was taken from him. Rather than fight him or berate him for his political views, she wanted only to take him in her arms and soothe away the years of hurt and anger and bitterness.