by Sally John
“You asked me to forgive you.” He spoke in a hushed tone. “And I didn’t, not right then. Not for a very long time.”
“So don’t give up hope on your kids.”
Indio said, “And remember this: You and Claire have sown good things. My grandchildren have excellent work ethics. They do not take for granted that you provided for all their needs, that you gave them an abundance of opportunities. God’s Word was planted in them because you took them to church. They are good-hearted people. Max, you get to reap all that good stuff too.”
Ben nodded. “We all sow weeds right along with the flowers. Gather the flowers and give the weeds to God. He does amazing things with our messes.”
Max covered his face with his hands.
Claire wrapped her arms around him and held tightly until the shuddering stopped.
Six
Where does this event fall on your fun list?” Danny whispered the question in Lexi’s ear.
She glared at her twin, a waste of effort considering he couldn’t see it through her sunglasses. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Remember how you used to rate everything by the fun list?” he murmured.
“I was a kid.”
Pointedly ignoring her, he went on. “Let me guess. If hanging out with Zak Emeterio is at the top of the list—by the way, how is Zak?”
“Go away.”
“Moving right along, how about we say Zak is near the top and at the bottom is losing a tube of paint. This would be below the tube of paint loss, right?”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Just trying to lighten the mood.”
She had worse derogatory names for him, but the nauseating ache in her throat choked them off.
The scene before them was from hell. Hundreds of people milled about. They divided themselves into clusters. In the center of each cluster stood one person with a buzzed haircut, dressed in desert fatigues. In the middle of the Beaumont family cluster stood her brother-in-law, Kevin Mason.
Jenna clung to him, grasping his arm with both hands. Her husband had no local family members, but all of his in-laws had come to say good-bye. In a few minutes he would board a bus and be whisked off to an airbase and from there flown overseas so he could live in hell full-time, for at least a year.
Danny leaned again toward Lexi and whispered, “Shall I get my antiwar sign out of the truck? ‘Bring ’Em Home Now!’ The slogan seems somewhat appropriate under the circumstances, don’t you think? I mean, everyone here wants these people to come home ASAP. And they haven’t even left Pendleton yet.”
Lexi ignored him. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to curl up on the concrete and sleep until this nightmare was all over. She wanted her brother-in-law Kevin to change his mind. The marines did not need him. The war would go on just fine without him. What difference could one really nice guy make?
She turned to Danny. As was their habit since they were little kids, they stood apart from the family, carrying on their own private conversation. It was time to end this one.
She said, “Stop clowning around. This is killing Jen.”
“It’s killing a lot more people than Jen. Do you know how many thousands we’ve lost to date?”
“I don’t want to know!”
“You have a crush on him.”
“So what?” Her feelings toward Kevin were obvious. Besides being a hunk, he was down-to-earth, friendly, and thoughtful. He never teased her like her brothers did. Lexi had no idea how snotty Jenna had snagged him, other than the fact that she was gorgeous.
“Yeah,” Danny said, “you’re right. So what if you have a crush on him? We all do. We all think the world of him.”
He went still.
Her twin rarely went still. If he wasn’t jabbering, he was moving some body part. He’d sway, bounce, stretch, do the moonwalk, always in motion.
She looked at his profile. His jaw muscles tensed. She could see through the side of his sunglasses. His eyes were narrow slits.
“Danny, don’t be mad at Kevin. It’s not his fault.”
“He enlisted. He re-enlisted. That’s his fault. That’s totally his fault.”
“The war is not his fault.”
“Yeah, well, call me a wuss. I can’t seem to get into assassinating the president or blowing up Congress, so I gotta take it out on old Kev.”
Lexi noticed Kevin gazing over heads at her, trying to get her attention.
It was her turn.
Slowly she made her way between her mom and grandmother, dreading the moment. It would be an awkward, one-armed hug. Jenna wouldn’t let go, and she would hear whatever Kevin said to Lexi and vice versa.
Not that Jenna could be blamed for clinging to her husband. She hadn’t married into the military. She had married a marine who was no longer in the service. But as the war intensified and Kevin watched the boys he coached in football graduate from high school and enlist, he could no longer sit on the sidelines. He signed back up.
Lexi reached him. He pulled her to himself with one arm, and she sank against him, her face buried in his chest, her arms around him. His chin rested atop her head.
“Lex, you’re the best little sister I could ever ask for. You’ll write, won’t you?”
She nodded. There was so much to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Shh,” he said. “It’s okay. I love you too.”
His other arm came around her and he hugged very, very tightly.
Kevin was gone.
Jenna sobbed in their mother’s arms.
Nana, their grandma, rubbed Jenna’s back and talked in a soothing tone. Their grandpa rubbed Nana’s back, his lips moving silently. Lexi knew both her grandparents were praying.
She could not comprehend what they felt. Over thirty years ago they’d sent their son, her Uncle BJ, off to Vietnam. He never came home. Not even his remains came home. He was still officially listed as MIA.
Fate added a stupid twist. Just days ago they’d passed the thirty-fifth anniversary of his disappearance. As usual, Nana and Papa spent the day alone, in mourning. Now they had to send off a grandson-in-law, maybe to the same fate. Or an unequivocal death. She didn’t know which would be worse.
Erik scurried off without a backward glance. Danny moved away, throwing a quick “’Bye” over his shoulder. Lexi followed in his foot steps.
Until her dad called out, “Lexi, can we talk a minute?”
She stopped cold in her tracks. “O-okay.”
He stood before her and removed his sunglasses.
Eye contact with Max Beaumont was not a common thing. He seldom stood still long enough for it to happen. When he did slow down, his eyes quickly glazed over, evidence of a disengaged mind. It was like making eye contact with a brick wall.
At least that was his demeanor until all the re-wedding business started. Now he was in her or some other family member’s face all the time. She preferred the brick wall to a stranger overly eager to be her best buddy.
He said, “Where are you headed now?”
“To work.”
“It’s Saturday.”
Like he hadn’t worked on Saturdays for the twenty-six years she’d known him? She glanced in the direction Danny had taken. He was long gone. No help there. She sure didn’t want to hang out with Jenna.
“Are you going to the office?” he asked.
“No.” She looked at the January sun and estimated a few daylight hours remained. It should be enough. It was the best way she could think of to pass the awful time following Kevin’s departure. “There’s a site in Oceanside I need to check on.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
What was it about him that produced discomfort in her? He wasn’t tall like Erik or Kevin. He was Danny’s size, but broader, more solid somehow. His eyes were a deep brown-black like her grandma’s. But Nana’s were velvet; his were obsidian. Rock hard.
He blinked. “I have my own car here. I’ll just come for a few minutes. I need to tell you somet
hing.”
She lowered her head and dug in the pocket of her baggy pants for keys. She wanted to grieve over Kevin in private. She wanted to work in private. She did not want to hear about anything to do with her parents or her lack of interest in wearing a little black dress to the wedding.
“Please?” he said.
Please?
That was a first.
She gave him directions to her work site.
It happened five minutes down the freeway. She couldn’t wait any longer.
Gunning her small SUV, she flicked on the turn signal and glanced over her shoulder. She yanked on the steering wheel, careened across three lanes of heavy traffic, and braked on the shoulder. In quick succession she shoved the half-empty cookie bag off her lap, burst out the door, and dashed around the car. Leaning against its fender, head bent forward, she was sick.
Then, after a bit, she was okay. She could put aside Kevin’s departure, Danny’s lousy attitude, and drama queen Jenna’s behavior. Now if only her dad lost the directions to her work site, she’d be totally, absolutely fine.
No such luck. Her dad found her.
“I’ve been here before.” Max approached her from the parking lot.
Kneeling on a mound of cedar bark chips, Lexi glanced at him and then continued pushing aside the mulch with her glove-covered hands. Of course he’d been there before. Max Beaumont knew everyone and every place of business in San Diego County.
He stopped near her. “After all those years of placing temporary workers, I suppose I’ve called on a large percentage of local companies.”
“Probably.”
He gestured toward the nearby building. “This brokerage firm is still a client. They hire through us now and then.”
“Nice.” She picked up her trowel and began digging a hole.
He cracked a knuckle, an annoying habit he’d started in recent months. “So,” he said. “What are you doing for them?”
Duh. She worked for Pierce Gardens, a small landscape architect firm. Owners of commercial buildings like this one hired them to design their grounds. Obviously what she was doing was landscaping.
“I mean,” he said as if reading her mind, “I thought you created landscapes on paper. I didn’t know you still planted the flowers.”
“Our crew finished up here yesterday. I didn’t have time to check on their work.”
“You’re digging.”
How observant of him. She crawled a few feet and slipped the trowel under a clump of fragrant sweet alyssum. “Transplanting the Lobularia maritima. It’s in the wrong place.”
“You remind me of myself.”
Oh, I hope not.
“I’m always looking over shoulders, making sure all the i’s are dotted, the t’s crossed.”
She gently lowered the white flowers into their new home.
Max plopped down on the ground, the flowers between them. “Alexis, please look at me.”
Reluctantly she sat back on her haunches. “You’ll get your good pants dirty.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Again he removed his sunglasses.
She felt safer with hers on, as if the slice of tinted plastic warded off unwanted attention from a man she did not know.
“Honey, I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how to say it—well, I guess I should just say it.” He paused, took a breath, and exhaled. “I love you. I’m sorry for hurting you, for not being the dad you needed me to be. I’m sorry for always looking over those employees’ shoulders because all the time I spent doing that was time I stole from you. I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Oh boy. The campaign to get her to jump onto her parents’ bandwagon continued. “Um.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He smiled. “It was what I needed to say—”
“You paid for everything I needed.” She shrugged. “Mom tried not to spoil us, I know, but she gave me every crayon and paintbrush I ever wanted. I was the first on the block to have an easel. You did your best.”
“I didn’t do my best, hon. I did my best with Beaumont Staffing, not with my family. I hope you can forgive me, more for your own sake than for mine.”
Breaking their quasi-eye contact, she trailed the small trowel through the mulch, making zigzag patterns.
“I want to make it up to you, Lex. I want to be a part of your life.”
She stabbed the trowel into the ground. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“No, you’re not. I’m not saying I’ll drive you to music lessons.”
“I never took music. I took—”
“You know what I mean.”
Gymnastics, she finished her sentence silently, yanked the trowel out and thrust it in again. I took gymnastics.
“Maybe I could, like, um, I could help you transplant this stuff right now?”
“I really don’t need any help—”
“That’s not the point.”
“I don’t need any help.” Lexi rubbed her hands down her thighs, streaking the pants with soil from the garden gloves. “Thanks anyway.”
“Okay. The thing is I just needed to tell you all that. I need to tell you that you are a beautiful young woman and you matter to me. This might not make sense right now, but maybe . . . maybe someday it will.” He stood.
She looked up at him. “You did your best.”
“Yeah. All right. I better go.” He put on his sunglasses. “We’ll see you later.”
“Mm-hmm. ’Bye.”
“’Bye.” He walked away through the grassy area and onto the parking lot.
Lexi turned back to the plot, a showy area that softened the effect of the glass and brick building behind it. The azaleas weren’t quite right. Given the overall picture of the new landscape, the azaleas were a minor detail. But such details could make or break the entire effect.
The scene before her turned fish tank-y. She wiped a gloved hand across her cheek and felt the dirt dissolve, probably into a muddy streak down her face. Her dad was a jerk. Always had been. Always would be.
After making sure Max’s car was gone, she went to her own and pulled a bag of cheesy puffs from the trunk. Munching, she returned to the flower bed, sat down, and imagined what flowers belonged where.
Seven
The glitter in Max’s eyes shone all the way across the dimly lit kitchen.
Claire set the tea tray back down on the island countertop and gazed at him as he walked toward her from the doorway. An unfamiliar expression smoothed his face, erasing even the crinkles of his fifty-five-year accumulation of California sun.
He gave a thumbs-up sign and the tiniest, briefest of smiles.
She melted into his embrace, into him.
Throughout a day of emotional upheaval that had begun with their son-in-law’s departure, she had been harassed by a distinct sense of unease. Now, in the blink of an eye, it vanished, a drop of water exposed to a blast of desert heat.
She peered up at him. “Something’s different about you.”
He nodded as if in agreement and then shook his head.
“Yes, no? What?”
His chest heaved with a deep sigh. “It’s like a two-ton weight rolled off my back. But . . .” His voice caught. He whispered, “But getting rid of it nearly killed me.”
Wordlessly, she leaned into him again.
They held each other for a very long time.
Max, it’s near midnight. Save your stories for tomorrow.” Claire handed him a mug of hot tea.
“No, I want to tell you now.”
Tucking her legs beneath herself, she sat down beside him on the love seat and glanced around the master suite. Logs burned in the fireplace, keeping the January chill at bay and cozying the room. “I like this room a lot.”
“Yeah, it’s great. But I did notice you were in the kitchen when I got home.”
She smiled. “And not in here behind bolted doors?”
“Does that mean you did okay being all alone at night?”
“I did
fine.” She smiled. “Just me, the howling coyotes and mountain lions, and my violin. I played up a storm.”
“I knew you could do it.”
Max wasn’t gone much anymore. Business travel seldom occurred. His parents were only a holler away down the road. Still, though, her first few times alone at night in the sprawling hacienda set in the middle of hundreds of acres had unnerved her. It wasn’t so much that she was by herself or that Max was out of cellular phone reach. What sent chills down her spine were haunting memories of a night spent there narrowly escaping a wildfire.
She winked. “Well, this place is, after all, a safe harbor. Especially when I’m on my knees.”
He grinned. “Prayer makes a difference.”
“Listen to us. It’s still hard to imagine, isn’t it? We pray about everything.” She exchanged a look of wonder with him.
“And go to church without thinking about how to network with business contacts.”
“And trust that God is right here with us.”
“And confess to my kids what an idiot I’ve been for most of their lives. Or, as Erik would phrase it, a putz.”
“I am so proud of you. Today you went to each one of them and asked for forgiveness.”
“Well, it’s not like I had a choice. Once God gets hold of you and you realize how dead you were before, you don’t want to go back to being dead. Forward is the only direction.” He set the mug on an end table. “Forward meant clearing the air with them.”
“And now you’re two tons lighter.”
“Yes.” He rested his elbows atop his knees. “While I was driving to meet Lexi, I thought about the pastor’s sermon last week. Remember he talked about how we need to examine our beliefs?”
“Vaguely.”
“He said what we believe about ourselves—whether it’s true or false, conscious or not—determines our emotions and our behavior.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I realized my actions toward the kids shaped their beliefs about themselves. My absence must have communicated that they weren’t important, that they didn’t count as people. Isn’t that awful? I mean . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “That is so despicable. What right did I have to . . .” A choking sound overtook his voice.
