The House on Sugar Plum Lane

by Judy Duarte

  Just as though he’d been waiting out in the front yard for the spiritual dust to settle, Joseph opened the door and passed through the marble-tiled entry. “Honey? I’m home.”

  He entered the living room, where Barbara had been kneeling just moments before, and caught her gaze. He frowned, sensing that bad news was about to be shared. His brow, which had thickened with age and had become threaded with silver over the years, arched. “Oh, no. Is it…Joey?”

  “No,” she said. “He’s not any worse. It’s just that I…” She pointed to the cream-colored brocade sofa. “Please sit down. I have a confession to make.”

  “You didn’t forget to transfer money into your household account again, did you?”

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than that.” Her throat suddenly went dry and fear pounded at the back of her neck. Yet she forced herself to say what needed to be said. “I…uh…” Taking a fortifying breath, she pressed on. “I’ve kept a secret from you for years, Joseph. Something I’m terribly ashamed of, something I was afraid you’d never forgive me for doing.”

  He took a seat on the sofa and stroked the length of his left leg, which had been injured when his plane made a crash landing in Vietnam. It often bothered him when he was tired or stressed. “What’s so bad that you think I’d never forgive you?”

  She took another deep breath of courage, then stepped out on a limb that was sure to break. “I cheated on you when you were in the service. And I got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption so that you’d never know about it.”

  Shock, betrayal, and disbelief swam in his eyes, but he didn’t utter a single word.

  “I’m sorry,” she added, as if those two simple words could somehow make it all right. “I was young, impulsive—selfish. And the guy meant nothing to me. I loved you. I still do. And I’ve tried to make it up to you over the years.”

  He blinked, as though trying to make sense of it all. “You’re telling me about this now?”

  “I’m sure, with the campaign coming up, you didn’t need any surprises. And…Well, she came to see me nearly a year ago. I refused to see or talk to her, but today, a private investigator approached me, and he…” She paused, trying to catch a hint of Joseph’s reaction, his pain, his anger.

  She was met only with silence—cold, hard, brittle.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “So very sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked. “Cheating on me? Betraying my trust? Breaking our vows?”

  “Yes, for all of that,” she said. “It only happened once, and the relationship didn’t last. It was a very long time ago, and I’ve never done anything like it since.”

  Joseph stood, his shoulders slumped, and he slowly shook his head. “What about the deception, Barb? We’ve been living a lie, and you never even once thought to tell me.”

  Then he did exactly what she’d always feared he would.

  He walked out of the house and shut the door.

  The coroner had arrived late that afternoon and released Captain’s body to the funeral home. Apparently, the elderly man had planned ahead, making the arrangements with the mortuary of his choice and paying for their services in advance.

  All afternoon, Eddie had stayed with Maria, keeping her company. And as strange as it might seem, there was really no other place he would have rather been.

  He was sorry that Captain had died, that the kids had seen the paramedics fail to bring him back, and that Maria had gone through it all. But death was, unfortunately, a part of life, even if people didn’t like to think about it.

  The kids had been a little quiet and downcast for a while, but Maria talked to them about it, telling them that Captain was happy now, that he was in a much better place. And they’d seemed to understand and to accept it.

  Eddie had figured that the sooner they fell into their daily routine, the better. And while that routine really had nothing to do with him, he couldn’t help wanting to hang around a little longer.

  So he’d suggested they take the kids to Roy’s Burger Roundup, a new burger place with an indoor playground. Maria had balked a little, until Amy, who’d been keeping the kids occupied next door, volunteered to keep Ellie while they were gone.

  And now here they were, taking seats at a white Formica-covered table, while the kids dashed off to play on the indoor playground, with its colorful climbing tubes and slides.

  “It’s been a weird day,” Maria said.

  “You can say that again.” Eddie studied the woman across from him. “But do you know what? Captain lived a full life, and there’s no doubt in my mind where he’s at right now.”

  “I know.” She smiled at him, her pretty brown eyes glistening. “It’s still sad, though.”

  As a tear slipped down her cheek, he reached across the table and brushed it away with his thumb, only to see another take its place. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  The term of endearment had just rolled right out, and while he wished he could reel it back in, she didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

  “You’re a great guy, Eddie. I’m really glad that we…well, that we got to know each other.”

  He hoped she wasn’t going to finish with some kind of breakup line, especially when they hadn’t even gone on a real date yet.

  She attempted a smile that shifted into an awkward, I’m-still-on-the-verge-of-tears tremble. And all Eddie could think of doing was to wrap his arms around her, to do his best to protect her.

  Yet more than the table separated them, reminding him of the conversation he’d had with Captain just days before.

  “I need to tell you something,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Captain once asked me if my intentions were honorable when it came to you.”

  She smiled, cocked her head slightly to the side. “Are they?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers, letting him know that she was glad things were taking a serious romantic turn.

  Yet even though Captain had passed away and couldn’t take him aside right now, Eddie had the feeling the old man would have pressed him to be up front with Maria and not to hold anything back—even if the revelation caused the warmth of her touch to chill and the threads that bound them together to snap.

  He supposed he owed her that much, and while he didn’t like taking the risk, there was no other decent way to have an honorable relationship with her.

  “There’s something else I have to tell you,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  It was his last chance to backpedal, to keep his shame to himself. But if they were going to have a lasting relationship, it needed to be honest from the start.

  “When I was seventeen, I had a girlfriend who lived in Mexico, about an hour from Tijuana.” He waited a beat to continue, realizing he could still change his mind about what he was about to say, but she deserved better than that—maybe she even deserved better than him.

  So he took a breath and released it, buying time—or maybe courage. “It wasn’t planned, and it certainly wasn’t convenient, but she got pregnant. Supporting a wife and a baby was going to change my college plans, but I couldn’t let her go through that alone. So I decided to bring her to Fairbrook and marry her.”

  Maria’s touch lightened, but she didn’t pull away—yet. So he pressed on. “She couldn’t cross the border legally, so I decided to sneak her into the States in the trunk of my friend’s car.”

  “Did you get caught?”

  “Yeah, but not the way you might think. I was so nervous that when a car slipped up close behind me, I assumed it was a border patrol agent on my tail and drove faster. I hoped to hit the freeway, then exit before they could catch me.”

  Eddie’s thoughts rolled back to that night, and he again felt the desperation, the fear. His hands grew clammy again, threatening to dampen the tabletop, and his stomach lurched. But he forced himself to go on, to lay it all on the table. “I sped thro
ugh town, thinking that they’d send her back to Rosarito, that they’d separate us, and so I stepped on the gas. I hadn’t meant to be reckless, but I’d only had my driver’s license for a year or so, and…”

  Just as if it was yesterday, Eddie could hear the skids, the crunch of metal upon metal. And his voice, heavy with the guilt he still couldn’t kick, dropped an octave as he forced himself to tell it all. “I ran a red light, and someone broadsided my car, hitting the trunk and bashing it in. Cecelia was killed, and the baby, a little girl, lived only a few hours.”

  Maria turned his hand over and covered his palm, dampness and all, with hers. “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

  “Yeah, it was tough. I…uh…” He cleared his throat, hoping he could finish the story and praying that, when she heard the rest, she wouldn’t let go, that she wouldn’t pull back. “I was arrested, tried, and convicted of gross vehicular manslaughter. My attorney managed to get them to drop the federal charges of smuggling an illegal alien, but I was in prison for almost five years.”

  Through their tentative connection, he felt her tense, draw back.

  “I know you’re probably reluctant to get involved with anyone who’s been in prison, but I swear to you. I never was in trouble with the law before. And I’ll never be again.”

  She continued to only look at him, yet she hadn’t let go of his hand, which he hoped was a good sign. He tried his best to read her expression, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of it.

  “I know you have issues about your ex-husband being incarcerated,” he added. “And you don’t deserve to hook up with a guy who might drag you and the kids into that sort of mess. But I’m off probation, and it’s all behind me now.”

  At least, he sure hoped that it was. If she couldn’t accept his past, then he might never be able to completely shake it himself.

  “It’s a little unsettling,” she said, giving his hand a warm squeeze. “But I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Does that mean you’ll still go out with me?”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and he was afraid to hear her answer. Yet her response was a nod, followed by, “Yes, Eddie. I’ve gotten a clear picture of the kind of man you are deep inside, and if you don’t think a woman with three kids is too much for you to consider, then I’m willing to see where this goes.”

  Eddie’s heart was swelling so big and pounding so hard, he was afraid it would burst. “You won’t be sorry, Maria.”

  “I hope you won’t be, either.”

  “Sorry about getting involved with you?” he asked, amazed she’d even think that might be the case.

  “I’m quite a few years older than you, and—”

  He lifted their clasped hands and pressed a kiss on her knuckles, silencing her it seemed before saying, “Don’t believe that bill of goods that your ex may have implied. You’re a wonderful woman, a loving mom. And your second husband is going to be one lucky guy.”

  Her eyes brightened, and her cheeks flushed.

  Eddie didn’t dare tell her that he had a burning desire to be that guy.

  Chapter 18

  After his unplanned meeting with Craig Houston had been interrupted, Brandon left the church office, drove to the beach, and parked along the busy two-lane coastal highway.

  At that point, he couldn’t have gone back to the office even if he’d wanted to. It would have been too awkward after bailing out on Kara at lunch.

  The sun had dipped low over the ocean, and the beach crowd had thinned out, leaving the gulls to fight over any picnic scraps that had been left behind.

  Out on the water, a couple of die-hard surfers sat on their boards where the waves broke. But for the most part, the shore was deserted and provided a great respite from the trials and tribulations of life.

  Brandon used to come to this very spot when he was a kid. He’d usually ride his skateboard to the bus stop, then take number 636 to the beach. It had been a good way to escape a lousy childhood, so it seemed appropriate to come here now.

  Maybe a walk on the beach would help him sort through his problems, his options—what few there seemed to be.

  He opened the driver’s door, shed his jacket, and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Then he slipped out of his loafers and peeled off his socks. After locking his belongings in the car, he walked toward the water, eager to roll up his pants and wade along the shore.

  The sand was warm, and the grains massaged his bare feet. A couple of seagulls swooped overhead and cried out as the waves ebbed and flowed.

  He didn’t know how long he’d walked, twenty or thirty minutes, he guessed, when his cell phone rang. He would have let it go, thinking it was someone at the office trying to reach him. But on the outside chance it was Amy, he glanced at the lighted display.

  The number wasn’t one he recognized, although it was local. And for some reason, he felt compelled to answer. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Masterson? This is Craig Houston from Parkside Community Church.”

  Brandon had left a business card with the secretary, so he wasn’t surprised that the minister had called him back.

  “I’m sorry I had to cut you off earlier today,” Craig said.

  “No problem. I understand. Besides, I showed up at your office without an appointment.” Who more than a busy attorney understood the ramifications of dropping in unannounced?

  “Hey, if Jesse was involved in our meeting, then I’m inclined to think it was a divine appointment.”

  Brandon wasn’t convinced about that, although it did seem odd that the homeless man had put two and two together and figured out that he and Chuck were related.

  “Are you interested in talking to your dad?” Craig asked.

  Not really, although he was still grasping at straws when it came to Amy. And if there was some connection to his lousy relationship with his father and the split from his wife, then maybe he ought to agree. “Where can I find him?”

  “He’s at Pacifica General Hospital.”

  Something told Brandon his old man hadn’t landed a job there, that he might be having health problems. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s got cancer, and the prognosis isn’t good.”

  The news, while startling, left him only numb. Shouldn’t he feel something more than an unsettling buzz?

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he finally said, still trying to sort through his reaction, to temper his response.

  “He’s talked to me about you on several occasions,” Craig said, “and I know he’d like to see you.”

  Brandon didn’t know what to say—not just to the minister, but to his dad, too. Under the best of circumstances, he’d be at a loss. But with the man dying?

  “I’m sure things were bad when you were growing up. Chuck made it clear to me that he failed you. So I can understand if you don’t want to talk to him. But I hope you consider going to visit him, especially when the window of opportunity is closing on you both.”

  His lack of emotion—anger, resentment, love—bothered him. Yet so did the ticking clock.

  “Do you know what room he’s in?” Brandon asked.

  “Four-fourteen. And if you’re thinking about going tonight, visiting hours are from seven to nine.”

  Brandon glanced at his wristwatch. What else did he have going on today? Going home to an empty house? Eating take-out and watching a boring movie on TV?

  He thanked the minister, then headed back to where he’d parked his car. About twenty minutes later, he leaned against the side of his Mercedes and tried to brush the sand from his feet. Then he slipped into his shoes and socks.

  The grit that remained was irritating with each step he took, but he wouldn’t go home first to shower.

  If he was going to check on his dad, he needed to do it before time ran out.

  On his dad.

  But on his marriage, too.

  It had been a sad day, and Amy was glad that it was nearly over. Thank goodness Callie hadn’t been around when the paramedics had tried—but failed�
�to save Captain’s life.

  As soon as Amy had realized what had happened, she’d sent the neighborhood children home and taken Sara, Danny, and Wally next door, leaving their mother to wait for the coroner.

  Afterward, Eddie suggested they take Maria’s kids out to dinner, which Amy thought was a good idea.

  “We have Ellie to think about,” Maria had reminded him. “I don’t think she’s up for anything like that.”

  “I don’t mind looking after her,” Amy had said. “Steph is going to bring Callie to me, so I’ll just wait here until you get home.”

  And now here she was, seated in the living room with Ellie, who didn’t seem to notice that anything was out of sync, even though there were stacks of boxes in the living room of the house that had once been hers.

  Amy had fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup for dinner, but neither she nor Ellie had done more than pick at their food.

  It made her wonder if, somewhere beneath the foggy surface, Ellie was aware of the fact that Captain had died, if a part of her was in mourning. Or maybe she realized that she’d reached the end of her own journey, that she would pass away one day soon.

  Amy studied her great-grandmother, who sat in the brown tweed recliner. The memory quilt, which had once been folded, was now draped across the chair. The bulk of the fabric was underneath her on the seat cushion, while one corner hung over the armrest.

  Ellie’s arthritic hand rested atop a square of blue gingham with white eyelet trim, although she seemed oblivious to everything around her.

  Next to her, on the lamp table, Ellie’s Bible rested with the prayer list still folded within its pages, a silent testimony of the requests that had been answered, as well as the one that hadn’t.

  I don’t want to get dementia and become a burden on my family. Please don’t let that happen to me. But if it’s part of Your plan, I pray that You take me home before it gets bad.

  A cloak of sadness draped over Amy as she realized just how bad Ellie’s dementia had gotten, and try as she might, she couldn’t seem to shake the heavy darkness.