“Me? But I don’t know anything about football.”
“Doesn’t matter. He needs someone smart and energetic who’s willing to wear more than one hat. Hard work, Honor Girl, is your middle name.”
Right there, that moment, another notch in the trajectory of her life. Again, Hugh, right in the middle of that notch, stamped with his kindness. He was the only one who had cared, who took in a grown orphan and gave her the love and attention she so desperately needed. The father she never had. Why hadn’t she told him that? She’d thanked him hundreds of times, but she’d never said those words.
Now, Zane’s phone rang. From the specific ring tone, she knew it was the memory care facility. Zane woke and sat up, rubbing his eyes as he reached for the phone.
“Hello. Hi Frieda. Is everything okay?”
“Oh.” He doubled over like someone punched him. “I see. Yes.” He was silent for a moment, listening. “Thank you. That’s what I want, yes. Thanks for letting me know and for taking care of it. I appreciate it. Sure, yes, that’ll be fine. I’ll take it from there.” When he uncurled from his bent position, his face had bleached of all color and his lips were purple, like a kid left too long in the cold.
Oh God. She knew then. Something was wrong with Hugh. An ice shower drenched her. Everything slowed and dimmed. She stumbled closer to the bed with her arms outstretched like she couldn’t see. A silent scream reverberated through her head. Not yet. Please not yet. She wasn’t ready to let him go.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“My dad’s gone. A massive heart attack. Frieda said he went instantly. No suffering.” He held the cell phone away from his body like it was radioactive.
“It can’t be,” she whispered. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“Frieda said patients often have one last moment of complete lucidity before they die.” Zane’s voice sounded strangely calm. “I never knew that.”
Sobs overtook her. “It’s my fault. I begged God to give us one more time with him, so I could tell him about us. It was so selfish.”
Zane dropped the phone and held out his arms. “No, baby. None of this is your fault. We got one more time with him and now he’s at peace.” She fell into his embrace. “He’s with God and Mae now. He hated being a burden, hated relying on other people. He’s free now.”
She imagined him in Heaven then, dancing with Mae. “He said he’d take her out on a date tonight. It was like he knew.”
“Maybe with that moment of lucidity comes an insight into the world beyond this one,” Zane said.
Words tumbled from her mouth. “He meant more to me than I can ever say. Everything’s because of him. I was just thinking about him while you were sleeping. I was thinking about the first time I ever met him. It feels like yesterday. He came to my college graduation. He was the only one. I have a picture of us.” She gestured toward her desk, like he would know what that meant.
“Can you show me?” His complexion had not regained color, but his lips were less purple.
She scrambled out of his arms and crossed to the desk. The two photographs were on the top of the pile from earlier. She brought them to Zane. “The first one is a few months after I started working for him.”
He didn’t say anything, just gazed back and forth between the two photos. “I had no idea he went to your graduation. How did I not know that?”
“You were in L.A. then.” She sat next to him on the bed. He tucked her against his side.
“These are special,” he said. “We’ll get them enlarged and framed. We can hang them on our wall.”
“In the living room? By the window?”
“Wherever you want.” He traced his finger over the earlier photograph. “It’s so obvious from this photo that you’d been sick. I don’t remember you ever looking like this.”
“I do.”
Zane let out a long, sad breath. “I have to tell Sophie.”
“Oh God. Sophie.” Sophie. Gentle Sophie. She should’ve gotten the years Honor had with Hugh. Instead she got only the remnants, the shell of the man he was.
“She got some moments,” Zane said, as if she’d spoken out loud.
“Not enough.”
“There never are with someone you love,” he said. “No matter how many you get.”
He left the bed. It was cold without him. The ceiling fan kept spinning and spinning. She curled her knees to her chest and watched him, wishing he didn’t have to go, but knowing his obligations were with his sister. “I’ll call the Dogs,” she said.
“I’ll call Maggie,” he said. “She should hear it from me.”
She nodded. “Don’t forget to tell her what Hugh said about Mae.” That will comfort her. Finally, they could be together.
“I won’t.” Zane perched on the side of the bed and covered her hands with his. “Lock the doors. Don’t answer if anyone knocks, okay?”
She nodded, dull and sad. “I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be more than an hour.”
After he left, she couldn’t get warm, even after she wrapped up in her winter bathrobe. She called Brody first. He didn’t answer—probably at practice. She didn’t leave a message. How did you leave a message like this one? Kara and Jackson would be at the clinic, so she couldn’t call them. She called Lance next. He answered right away.
“Hey. Where are you?” Lance asked.
“I’m at my house. We got a call from the memory care place. Hugh’s had a heart attack. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah. Zane’s gone to tell Sophie and Maggie. I’m supposed to call all the Dogs.”
He offered to call everyone else and she gladly accepted. Shock was wearing off and grief started to crash over her. She sat on the floor with the two photographs. Thoughts tumbled through her mind, quick and pained. Hugh, I miss you. Don’t stop watching over me. I still need you. Tell God I said thank you for sending me to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you proud. I won’t waste a moment of the opportunities you opened for me.
She rested her back against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest and let the tears come. When she’d used them all up, she ran a bubble bath. When the water was high enough, she eased into the warmth. She placed a wash cloth over her tender eyes and rested her head on the back of the tub. The first room she’d renovated when she’d started on the house had been this bathroom. Until this house, she’d never had a bathroom of her own. She’d set out to make it exactly right and she had. A clawfoot tub, white tiles and the light blue paint on the walls calmed and soothed her. Mine. All mine. Thanks to Hugh Shaw.
A thump startled her. She tugged the wash cloth from her eyes and sat up in the tub. Was someone knocking on the door? Could Zane be back already? Did he forget a key? Sure, that had to be it. In his distress, he must have left it in the kitchen. Nothing to be startled over.
She climbed out of the tub and reached for her robe. In damp bare feet she hustled down the stairs, holding onto the handrail to keep from slipping. Without thinking, knowing it was Zane, she yanked open the door.
Not Zane.
A young man and a little girl stood on the front steps. He wore a white t-shirt, frayed at the sleeves, and a pair of jeans several sizes too big. His hair was shorn close to his scalp in places and long in others, like that of a well-loved stuffed animal. Light blue eyes met hers. She knew those eyes. Where did she know them from?
The little girl gazed up at Honor with round, haunted eyes the color of dark chocolate. Long hair, tangled with knots, hung down her back. She wore a faded green sundress. A stuffed bear, as patchy the man’s hair, dangled from her right hand.
Behind them, a silver sedan took up most of her small driveway.
“May I help you?” Honor asked.
“Hi, Honor. Do you remember me?” The man had a slow way of talking and a southern accent. A raspy quality in his tone hinted at allergies or some other ailment, as did the black smudges under his eyes.
<
br /> “You look familiar.” Why hadn’t she brought her phone down with her?
“We were at the Akers together. I’m Lavonne. Lavonne Pitt.”
“The Akers.” This man was Lavonne? Her mind raced, trying to find some link in her memory to connect the man in front of her. His eyes were the same. The farmer and his sullen wife. Sheep. Herds of sheep. They bleated so loudly during shearing that she’d wanted to cover her ears. Lavonne Pitt, the gentle, slow boy she’d protected the best she could, stood before her, grown now. The boy she knew was still there in his eyes and his slow, halted way of speaking. “Oh gosh, Lavonne, I didn’t recognize you. It’s been so long.”
“I was thirteen and you were twelve. I’d been there a long time when you came. I worked outside with Mr. Aker. Out with the animals. You were nice to me. You were the first person ever nice to me. You snuck me lemonade when I was working outside and it was so hot. We used to sit at that long table in the kitchen for supper. There was a wood stove in there and in the winter whoever they thought did the best work got to sit next to it. Remember that?”
Images flashed before her eyes of a wood stove and that rundown kitchen. She used to bring wood in from the shed in a yellow wheelbarrow. That table was long and covered with one of those plastic tablecloths. There were five, sometimes six, foster kids. She was one of the youngest because they usually took in kids who were older, so they could work after school and on the weekends.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, but I have nowhere else to turn.”
“Lavonne, I can’t believe it’s you.” She backed into the house and gestured for them to follow. “Come inside.” She closed the door and looked down at her thick robe and bare feet. “I’m sorry, I just got out of the bath. I thought you were my boyfriend, forgetting his key.”
The tips of Lavonne’s ears turned pink. “We’re real sorry to just drop in like this, but I needed to see you.”
“And who is this?” Honor asked. She knelt to the little girl’s level.
“I’m Jubie Gray,” she said.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Honor said. “How old are you?”
“I’m six.”
“Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”
Jubie nodded, but her eyes skirted to Lavonne. He nodded his consent.
“We haven’t eaten for a while,” Lavonne said. “We run out of money a few days back.”
Honor stood and smiled at Lavonne. Was he violent? A criminal? Her gut told her no. He seemed the same timid boy she’d had to look after all those years ago.
“I’ll make you both some dinner, but I need to get changed first.” Could she leave them down here and go change without being robbed blind? She had to get her phone. Without it she was helpless.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jubie said. A look of disappointment crossed the girl’s face. Honor knew that look. The girl was hungry. They needed food now, not later.
“I’ll hurry,” Honor said.
She rushed upstairs and put on a sundress and flat sandals, then ran a brush through her hair.
Lavone and Jubie were waiting on the couch when she returned. “Follow me. Let’s see what I can scare up to eat.” In the kitchen, she invited them to sit at the table and hustled about pouring juice and finding a bag of chips in her pantry, which she dumped into a bowl. There was dip, too, in her refrigerator. She set everything on the table and tried to think of what other snacks she had in the house. Not much. This was a bad home to come to if you were half-starved.
“I have to wash my hands first,” Jubie said.
“What a good girl you are.” Honor pointed to the bathroom off the kitchen. “You two can wash up in there.”
After they washed their hands, Jubie and Lavonne sat at the table and tucked into the chips. Honor set a pan of water on the stove to boil for pasta before joining them at the table.
“We’re real sorry to barge in on you like this,” Lavonne said. “It took a while to find you and I never did muster up the courage to knock on the door, but Jubie here’s so hungry and tired that I just had to see you today.”
Honor got up to fill Jubie’s glass with more apple juice. “How did you find me?” Honor asked.
“I saw you on TV with Brody Mullen at the Super Bowl,” Lavonne said. “And then I found you on Instagram. You posted about this place, so I knew you lived here. It took a few days to figure out this was your house. We’ve been coming by, but you’re never home.”
“Where do you live?” She stood behind Jubie who hadn’t stopped steadily popping chips into her mouth.
“We come from L.A. most recently. But we’re sort of living out of my car.” Lavonne chose a large chip and stuffed it into his mouth.
She heard the water on the stove start to boil and grabbed a package of spaghetti and some sauce from her pantry. After she tossed the noodles into the water and stirred, she returned to the table. “Just a few minutes and we’ll have some spaghetti. Do you like spaghetti, Jubie?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She sat at the end of table. “Lavonne, what brings you here to see me?”
Lavonne set aside his chips and took a deep breath as if gearing up for the tale of the lifetime. “To tell you that, I got to start at the beginning. Back when I first knew you.”
“At the Akers’? I don’t remember much from those times.” She worked hard to forget.
“Not me. I remember everything. Especially you. See, back then, you were nice to me and I never forgot it. My mama taught me to always remember every kind gesture anyone does to you because that’s the way to know God’s in everything.”
“That’s a great way to think of it,” Honor said. Too bad there wasn’t more of it when they were kids. Maybe her faith would’ve been stronger.
“I missed you something fierce after they sent you away. You saved me.”
“Right.” She’d jumped on Mr. Aker’s back when he was threatening Lavonne with a pitchfork.
Lavonne smiled a sad smile. “I cried when you left. I ran after the car.”
“I never thought anyone cried for me back then.” Except myself. A picture of Lavonne when he was just a boy crossed her mind. He’d been skinny and small for his age. His front teeth had been missing. They’d walked to and from the bus with the older kids. He’d had to go to the special education classroom. “I remember your green jacket.”
“Yeah, that old jacket kept me mighty warm most days.” He grinned. His teeth were too white, too perfect. False teeth because no one cared about his dental care when he was little. Dammit, he never had a chance.
Lavonne continued with his story. “Sometimes I did magic tricks for you and you’d say how great they were. How great I was. No one ever said that to me except my mama and she died.”
“What happened to you after I left?”
“I stayed there at the Akers’ until I turned eighteen. My mama had talked about California, before the Lord took her up to the angels. California was where dreams come true, she told me. I thought maybe I could come here and get a few dreams for myself. Maybe make a go of my magic career. But it’s not exactly how I thought it would be.”
Always expect the worst.
“Anyway, I got work as a dishwasher in a diner and lived in my car. Took showers at the local YMCA. Wasn’t bad most nights since it’s so warm. This went on for a few years. Until I met Jubie’s mother, Rinny. She was a waitress at the diner. Real nice. Like you. Always looking after me. She already had little Jubie here.”
“I was a tiny baby,” Jubie said it like someone who’s heard the same story many times.
“One day she found out I was living in my car and she asked if I wanted to move in with them. I could help with the rent and fix things that needed fixing. So I did. That was about five years ago. We had some good times, didn’t we Jubie?”
Jubie nodded.
Honor’s timer on the stove beeped. She hurried over and mixed the noodles with some sauce and scooped large portions into two bowls. Once she was se
ttled back at the table, Lavonne, between bites, continued his tale.
“All was going on just fine until Rinny got sick.”
“Cancer,” Jubie said.
Please, no. Don’t tell me.
“And she fought real hard for a long time, but last month, she went to live with the angels, like my mama,” Lavonne said.
Jubie had stopped eating and was staring into her bowl. Two lone teardrops rolled down her cheeks and into her half-eaten pasta.
“Jubie, honey, do you want to go out on my patio and pick some oranges from my tree?” Honor asked.
The little girl nodded, grabbed her teddy bear, and rose from the table. Honor hadn’t noticed her shoes before now—cheap flip-flops. Was this little one headed for the same life Honor had?
On the patio, she showed Jubie how to tell which oranges were ready to be picked. “You stack them right here on my table. When you’re finished, we’ll make some orange juice. Best you’ve ever tasted.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Honor went back into the kitchen. Lavonne had finished his pasta and was at the sink washing up his dish.
“Don’t fuss with that,” Honor said. “Come back to the table. You want a cookie?”
“No, not right now. I best tell you the rest of it.” He pulled his jeans up before he sat back down in his vacated chair. “Right before Rinny died, me and her talked about what to do about Jubie. She knew I couldn’t keep her on my own, what with my problems.”
“What problems?”
“I get real bad headaches. Sometimes I drop things. Work’s hard to find and not enough to take care of a little girl. She needs things that I can’t get for her. When Rinny and I talked it all through, we knew we didn’t want her to go into foster care because…well, I don’t need to tell you why. Neither one of us have any family. Jubie’s father died in an accident before she was even born. But then Rinny had an idea. Over the years I told them all about you. All your kind ways and such. Rinny was real weak by then, but she opened her eyes super wide and said, ‘what about Honor Sullivan? Could she take Jubie?’ ”
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