“Can’t we wait to see if it’s Guido before I give myself a coronary?”
Corin turned and grabbed Tesser’s elbow to support him but kept walking, backward now, and stared at the car. It stopped at the edge of the parking lot closest to them. Why did the car have to be black? Somehow sky blue would make him feel better.
A few seconds passed and the passenger door opened. A moment later the driver’s door opened. Two women got out. Young, probably mid-twenties. Camera bags were slung around their necks.
He breathed deep. Paranoid for nothing. What was wrong with him? Corin glanced at Tesser. “If we get shot, it will only be digitally.”
Tesser sucked in and pumped out little puffs of air like he was blowing out a row of birthday candles one at a time.
“You going to survive?” Corin tried to repress a smile.
“I see that . . . whew . . . smile!” Tesser put his hands on his knees. “Believe me, when you hit 92 and I’m 150, I’ll be in better shape than you are.” His friend coughed.
“That I’d like to see.” Corin put his hand on Tesser’s back. “Really now, you okay?” Seeing Tesser have a heart attack because of his paranoia wasn’t his idea of the ideal outing.
The women walked to the halfway point of the bridge and set their camera bags down. Picture time. Of the falls.
“Can you walk?”
“Of course I can walk.” Tesser scowled.
They ambled down the path for a few minutes before Corin reverted back to their earlier conversation. “You think I should bring the chair to your house to hide it.” Maybe that was the better idea. Corin’s house was a target. Tesser’s wasn’t.
“Yep, yep, yep.” Tesser’s head moved up and down like a bobble-head doll.
“Why?”
“For your protection. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
Corin slung his arm around Tesser’s shoulder. “I feel the same.”
“Until recently, we haven’t seen each other in years. There’s no connection for anyone who comes after you to make between you and me. And you need someone you can trust.” Tesser yanked up on his pants and tightened his belt. “Plus it will give me more opportunity to study that fascinating work of craftsmanship, so my offer isn’t entirely altruistic.”
“Do you have a secure room?”
Tesser waggled his fingers in front of him like he was playing air piano. “I have a basement that no one has been in for years.”
“In other words, no.”
“Pshaw. No one will look there.”
“I don’t know, Tesser.” Corin turned and guided them back toward the parking lot. “I want some place with a lock on it. A big lock.”
A tinge of frustration passed over Tesser’s face. Corin sighed. He knew his old friend only wanted to help. But until he figured out what this thing was, Corin wanted it in a spot he could get to anytime he wanted, and he didn’t want anyone else knowing the spot. It would protect them as much as it protected him.
“It’ll be okay in the safe. Trust me.”
“Okay, okay; it’s just if anything happened to you, I’ll never forgive myself and all that . . .”
“You’re not getting mushy on me are you, Tess.”
“You call me Tess again and I’ll deck you.”
Corin laughed.
They walked in silence, the coolness of the air trying to find crevasses in his clothes where it could streak in and send a chill into his marrow.
“Now that I’ve been healed, are you convinced the chair was made by Christ Himself and truly has powers to heal?” Corin asked.
“Almost. It could be psychosomatic.”
“What?”
“Psychosomatic healing. The mind convinces the body it’s healed, and for a time the symptoms are overridden and things seem to be different. But in a majority of cases the symptoms come back.”
“In other words, the healing was in their minds? In my mind? I believed it strongly enough for it to become real?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re kidding.” Corin reached out and caught a gold aspen leaf as it fluttered toward the ground. “If this leaf believes strongly enough that it’s green, will it turn green for a few hours?”
Tesser tapped the side of his head and spoke in a Scottish accent. “Ye cranium is a powerful beasty if ye allow it to be.”
“Doesn’t make sense.” Corin let the leaf fall from his open palm and settle to the ground. “The kid, Brittan, wasn’t believing he was healed of his asthma. He was just sitting in the chair resting. I wasn’t believing I was cured of my claustrophobia. I was just trying to save a dog.”
“Yes, but your mind has been stirring and boiling and baking the idea of a chair with healing powers for almost two weeks now. At night while you sleep, during the hours you’re awake, your subconscious could have convinced you your mind was healed.”
“A. C. felt a warmth and a supernatural peace. He saw these lights and he lifted a three-hundred-pound desk over his head without any pain.”
Tesser kicked at a pile of leaves alongside the path, shooting a good portion of them into the air, and watched them twist back to the ground. “Don’t go all logical and mystical on me at the same time. That’s the kind of cocktail that stings the throat going down.”
“Seriously, do you think it’s all in our minds?”
Tesser smiled. “I’ve lived through enough moons to be honest enough to say I don’t know everything. I’ve also lived long enough to see something supernatural, if there is such a thing in the world, and I haven’t seen conclusive proof of that. So truly, I wouldn’t go around convincing myself I’ve got a chair of power when in all likelihood you don’t. But on the other hand, given the fact you’ve been healed—someone I know and trust—I could almost be persuaded you have in your possession the genuine healing chair of Christ.”
They reached their cars and Corin took Tesser by both shoulders. “Thanks for the wisdom, Prof.”
“Anytime.” Tesser opened the door of his Lexus. “And please know that my hiding the chair for you is a standing and sitting and lying-down offer.”
“I know.” Corin squeezed Tesser’s shoulders, then released his grip. “I appreciate the concern, old friend.”
“Of course.” Tesser shrugged. “Now, given the new light that has been spilled on this adventure, I think we need to get on a plane to Patmos, don’t you?”
“Where John the apostle lived?”
“Precisely.” Tesser rubbed his hands together. “We’ll talk to the locals. This is the kind of legend that never leaves the land in which it was birthed.”
“Tesser—”
“Then we’ll fly from there to Greece where the author of Ladies of the Christ Chair used to live and talk to his children—if they’re still alive which they’re probably not—and his grandchildren if need be.”
“Tesser—”
“See if there’s anything else we need to know that he didn’t put in the book.”
“Tesser!”
The old professor stared at Corin with an irritated look on his face.
“I’ve got a store to run. I can’t jump on and off of planes for weeks at a time. Not to mention I’m broke.”
“No, you can’t worry about those things. You have an adventure to take hold of.”
“I can’t just drop everything and leave for a month.”
“Why?”
Corin sighed. “I have to make money. At least try to make money.”
“I took adventures when I was your age.”
“You didn’t drop your classes and jump on a jet whenever the wild goose squawked your direction.”
“Sure I did. You forget, I went on numerous adventures while you were one of my students and I was working full t
ime at the university. You even complained about how many guest lecturers I always had.” Tesser pulled off his baseball hat and rubbed the stained brim. “How did I do it?”
“You cheated. You had tenure by that time, and you pretended you were in countries on the university’s behalf that you never put one footprint on.” Corin tapped on the roof of Tesser’s Lexus. “You told them you were bringing back artifacts from overseas that would enhance the university’s reputation, when in reality you were buying those pieces from some of your less-than-reputable contacts while you played in exotic ports of grandeur.”
“I didn’t ever do anything immoral.”
“Are you forgetting I joined you on a few of those adventures?”
“I didn’t cheat. Those pieces did enhance the university’s reputation.”
Corin laughed and shook his head. “Someday I’m going to write a book on the adventures we had together and will reveal all your little secrets.”
“I’m an open book. I have no secrets.” Tesser closed his eyes and patted his chest.
Corin smiled. How could he keep from loving the guy? Predictable. Unpredictable. Funny, smart, caring, indifferent. The quintessential contradictive personality. The networks should have made a TV sitcom about his life. It would have been a number-one show.
“Can I bring up something from your past that’s a little painful?”
“I’m too old to carry any pain from the past.”
“Your brother.”
“I see.” Tesser pulled on his chin hairs. “I told you about me and him, huh?”
“Not much, just that you had a falling out and didn’t make it right before he died.”
Tesser closed his eyes and sighed.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Pshaw.” Tesser batted his hand toward Corin. “Of course we’re going to talk about it. What do you want to know?”
Corin told his friend the story of Shasta and him and as he did, the old man’s eyes watered off and on. When he finished, Tesser took Corin’s hands in his and squeezed for a long time without speaking.
Finally he patted Corin’s arms and rubbed his eyes with the back of his palm. “It is my greatest regret. I didn’t try with my brother. There was always tomorrow. Always one more day I could put it off.” Tesser stood up straight and took Corin by the shoulders. “But you have today. And probably tomorrow. But how many more days, only God can tell. And I don’t think He’s telling.” Tesser let go of Corin’s shoulders and leaned against his Lexus looking five years older. “No regrets, Corin. You know what must be done. Maybe there is healing in the chair.”
Corin nodded and blinked back his own tears.
The thought of calling Shasta and telling him about the chair just took another shift from the realm of insanity into the arena of definite possibility.
SHASTA ROSCOE SAT 5in his wheelchair staring at a photo of Corin and him at the top of Breckenridge Ski Resort. Big smiles splashed on their faces. Arms raised in victory.
The sound of feet behind him on the hardwood floor of his den interrupted his thoughts.
“Why do you keep that photo up?” Robin asked.
“To remind me of what he did.”
She came around to his side and knelt beside his chair. “You can’t hate him forever.”
“I don’t hate him.” He swiveled his head toward her. “I don’t feel anything toward him.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Shasta turned back to the photo, then closed his eyes.
It seemed like centuries ago he’d opened his eyes after the accident, then shut them immediately to block out the harsh glare of the sun. But it hadn’t been the sun.
He reached up to see if his sunglasses were on his face, but his hand didn’t move.
“Mr. Roscoe, I think he’s awake.”
Shasta turned his head to the source of the voice, or tried to. Why wouldn’t his head turn?
The sound of shuffling feet scurried toward him. “Hey, bro. I’m here.”
Corin’s face appeared over him.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s going to be okay.”
“What’s going to be okay? Where am I?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked the question. He knew exactly where he was. He’d worked two years as a volunteer in high school at a hospital near his house. The smells of a hospital were as familiar to him as his own home.
“You’re in Memorial Hospital.”
“Why?”
“You had an accident.” Corin glanced toward the end of his bed. “When we jumped, you didn’t land right.”
The jump off the ramp flashed into his mind, then the sickening crack he’d felt when he landed. Then blackness. The truth swept over him.
“I’m paralyzed.”
Corin wiped his mouth with the base of his palm and looked away.
“I am, aren’t I?”
“They haven’t finished running all the tests they need to, that they want to. They wanted you to be awake before—”
“Tell me the truth.”
For a long moment Corin looked like he did when they were kids and their Scottish terrier, Max, passed away.
His brother sucked in a breath and held it so long Shasta almost expected him to faint. After finally releasing it Corin said, “They think so.”
“How bad is it? My neck, is it broken?”
Corin paced next to the steel bed rails that held Shasta like he was in a cage. “It’s not good.”
“I’m paralyzed.” Shasta said it again out loud, even though he was speaking to himself. “From the neck down.”
Tears formed in Corin’s eyes as he told Shasta how sorry he was. Over and over and over, but his voice faded as the words he’d spoken echoed through Shasta’s mind. “After this, life will never be the same.”
“You made me jump.” He stared at Corin’s pale face. “Why did you do it?”
“I know, Shasta. I know. I wish—”
“Wish what? You could take it back?”
“Yes. With everything in me. I only did it for—”
“For who, Corin? For me? Or for you to prove what a cool brother you are? So you could have another picture of us doing something crazy to show everyone? Or because you have to have someone with you when you dance with insanity?”
Corin wiped the sweat off his forehead and started to speak. “I—”
“You need to go, Corin.”
“I won’t leave you, I—”
“Leave me? You won’t leave me?” Shasta spit over the railing of his hospital bed, the spittle seeming to hang in the air before it splattered on the floor next to Corin’s shoe. “That’s exactly what you need to do.”
“Shasta . . .”
He closed his eyes and didn’t open them till Corin’s footsteps faded far down the hospital hallway.
At 2 a.m. Shasta woke with an itch just above his left eyebrow, the kind of itch that demanded immediate attention, the type that felt like a soft needle was winding its way into your skin.
He willed his arms, his hands, his fingers to move but they ignored him and lay like discarded driftwood washed up next to his body.
He forced himself to think of anything else but the itch, but it was impossible.
“Hey!” he called. No response. Louder. “Help!” Nothing. And no answer the second time, third time, fourth time. He ranted into the dark hallways of the hospital and eventually the itch faded.
But the rage inside him didn’t. Rage toward himself. Rage toward the gods who would allow this to happen. Rage toward Corin who had altered his life for the rest of his days.
But whose fault was it? Shasta’s for agreeing? Corin’s for pushing him to go off the jump? Maybe both. Maybe neither.
It didn’t matter.
He vowed to block Corin out of his life forever.
“Shasta, are you with me?”
He opened his eyes to find Robin standing in front of him, eyes questioning.
“I’m here.” He blinked as if that would throw off the emotions the memory had stirred.
“Corin loves you deeply.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.” She kissed him gently on the forehead. “And you’ll never convince me otherwise.”
Robin’s footsteps faded just as Corin’s had all those years ago, and Shasta let his head fall back against the headrest of his chair.
No, he would never let Corin back into his life.
He couldn’t.
CHAPTER 36
After Corin wrapped up another day of almost nonexistent business at his store, he drove to Tori’s dojo and picked her up, ready to talk about a subject he knew she wanted to bury. They were headed to see Tori’s nephew perform in a junior high rendition of Guys and Dolls. The play a little mature for a crew of sixth, seventh, and eighth graders, but apparently the drama teacher was a frustrated Broadway wannabe.
As they pulled out of Tori’s parking lot Corin said, “I’m giving serious consideration to calling Shasta, to see if he’ll come sit in the chair.”
Two nights earlier he’d told Tori about Shasta’s accident, about the experimental operation, and about Jefferies’ offer.
“You’re going to what?” Tori squinted at him as if she had chugged two shots of straight lemon juice.
“You heard me.”
“Great idea. Brilliant.” She flipped on the radio and Coldplay blared out of his speakers.
“I’m hearing a sliver of sarcasm in your voice.” He turned the radio down.
“Really?”
As they pulled up to a red light, Corin turned to Tori. “I have to try.”
“Just sell the chair to the pastor and run.”
“I have to try this first.”
“You’re still thinking this comic-book-healing-people story of yours really has come to life, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Corin turned and stared at the stoplight until it turned green. Green equals go. And the impression he’d gotten from sitting in the chair was a brilliant emerald shade. So was talking to Tesser. So was talking to Nicole. How many more lights did he need? But what if it didn’t work?
Jim Rubart Trilogy Page 85
