“Whose fault was that?” Logan snarled. “And if he was so goddamn jealous of how close I was to Jerry, maybe he could’ve hung around the garage with me some himself.” He flung his arms wide as he finished angrily, “He didn’t even try to help when I was fixin’ his car.”
“He just didn’t have a knack for it. Jim has a hard time concentrating on things—”
“You’re still making excuses for him! You picked up right where Mom left off. That thing with Jerry wasn’t the first or last time you covered up for him or took his side, just the worst.”
Daisy was shaking her head sadly as she entreated, “I had to stop you from goin’ to the cops. Jimmy wouldn’t’ve been able to take goin’ to jail or anything like that. I know he seems tough on the outside, but underneath he’s kinda… fragile.” When Logan’s scowl only deepened, Daisy added, “I’m sorry it seemed like I was favorin’ him, but you were always the strong one. I never really worried about you, but Jim needed me to—”
“He needed you to make him face up to even one of the messes he made,” Logan cut in, his angry words echoing around the empty room. As Daisy’s copious tears ran down her cheeks, he took a calming breath and added more quietly, “I know you meant well, but you didn’t do him any favors. Look at him now, thirty-five years old and I can count on one hand the times he’s done an honest day’s work in his life. He still bleeds you dry for money whenever he comes to town. And that’s the only time he even knows you’re alive, isn’t it? And that girl in Uniontown he knocked up. Did he ever give her any child support?” Seeing no answer was forthcoming from Daisy, whose wet gaze was fixed on the concrete floor, Logan snorted cynically, “That kid’s older than Meghan and probably never seen his dad more ’an once or twice in his life.”
Daisy’s eyes found Logan’s as she demanded, “And you think all of that’s my fault?”
“No,” Logan shouted. “It’s all his fault and his problem and you gotta stop making excuses and trying to fix everything for him.”
“I know he’s screwed up plenty, but I can’t help….” Daisy stopped to wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing. “I still love him.”
Suddenly, Logan felt like a heel for putting Daisy through the wringer, but he reminded himself that she needed to hear this and he needed to say it. “Yeah, well, love him enough to stop babying him.”
“Meaning what? Cut him off? Don’t try to help him when he asks?”
“Yes, meaning exactly that.” When Daisy just shook her head, Logan put his hands on her shoulders and insisted, “You have to try. It might be the only thing that can help him at this point. Or he might be past help, but for your sake if nothing else, promise me you’ll try.”
After staring up at Logan in silence for a few long moments, Daisy drew a shaky breath, but her voice was surprisingly firm when she said, “Okay, I’ll try.” Logan managed a small, pained smile and drew her into a hug, which she gladly accepted. Drawing back slightly, his sister looked up at him to say, “And I guess I should say how sorry I am that I forced you to go against your conscience.”
Logan choked up for the first time and could only manage a gruff “Thank you.”
But Daisy wasn’t finished. She hugged him again, throwing all of her weight into it as she asserted, “I am sorry, Logan. I’m sorry I didn’t understand that you needed me to take your side not because you were strong or Jim was weak, but because you were right. You were right about Jerry. I think I always knew that, but owning up to it meant admitting something about my brother that I just can’t… couldn’t face.”
Logan patted Daisy on the back and returned her embrace as he felt the tight knot of anger that he had carried inside him for far too long finally start to loosen. On the way back to Daisy’s house, her relieved chatter filled the car, but it mainly flowed past Logan without impact. Her words, “You were right,” were still ringing in his ears, and he suddenly knew how badly he had needed to hear that and how long he’d been waiting. He also knew they had other truths to face. Other confessions were looming on the near horizon—but not now. This weekend was for savoring one more victory in his battle to escape his stifling past.
NICK CIRCLED the block for the third time, noticing that each time he passed Flander’s Funeral Home, the crowd had gotten slightly larger. He was trying to pretend to himself that he was simply looking for a good parking spot, but even on a Saturday, finding a place to park in the small town of Hornell, New York, wasn’t really a problem. On the fourth try, he finally pulled into a spot on the street about half a block from the funeral home. After cutting the engine, he stayed behind the wheel for a moment, watching the sun drop and trying to deal with the reality of the situation. When he went into that staid brick building, there was going to be a coffin in one of the rooms, and Norah was going to be in it. How is that even possible? In what kind of fucked up world could that be real?
It wasn’t like this was the first time Nick had attended the funeral of a client. During his third year at ACC, a woman he’d been counseling had been killed by her ex-husband, and less than two years later, another client had been gunned down by her stalker boyfriend. It was an unfortunate fact that mortality rates were heartbreakingly high for women who left abusive relationships. But neither of those women had been as close to him as Norah. That reflection only served to deepen the pool of guilt in which he’d been mired since Trudy had broken the news. I guess I should’ve felt this way about those two. The only saving grace was the lack of self-blame he’d felt regarding those deaths. The thought that had been his constant companion for the last two days assaulted him yet again. I knew there was something wrong. Why did I ever let her go?
Nick glanced at his watch and saw that it was after five p.m. Norah’s family had scheduled a viewing from five until six p.m. with the funeral service following immediately after. He knew he’d delayed as much as possible. It was time to face up to this awful duty. Nick slowly got out of the car, straightened his tie, and walked with leaden steps into the funeral home. After a somber employee directed him into the correct room, Nick moved quietly inside and signed the guest book. His eye was immediately drawn to the front of the space, where the flower-draped coffin was displayed. During several sessions, Norah had talked about her family, and from her description, Nick thought he recognized her parents greeting mourners in front of the casket. That beefy man with the red-rimmed eyes had to be Butch Seebold, and the small blonde woman at his side was certainly his wife, Nancy.
Nick knew propriety demanded he offer his condolences directly, but he decided to wait until the line thinned out a bit, so he killed some time by looking for the flowers he’d sent. He finally found the arrangement of pink and white roses at the opposite side of the room, near a small sofa. Not yet feeling up to greeting Norah’s family, Nick dropped onto the couch and steeled himself for the looming confrontation.
What would they say to him? What would they say when faced with the counselor who had so badly failed their daughter? Suddenly a burst of defensive anger welled up in Nick. What about them? Didn’t they let her down, too? What happened here that she went running back to Alex after the visit? Sure, I failed Norah, but they did, too.
Nursing this embryonic grudge gave Nick the first reprieve from his solo guilt in days, so he was happy to expand upon it. Norah had always spoken well of her family, but was that the truth? Had she been hiding something from him, something dark that would explain why he’d failed to reach his client? Looking at Butch’s huge frame overshadowing his small wife, an insidious thought occurred to Nick. Wouldn’t it make a whole lot of sense if Butch was an abuser? Maybe Norah just never wanted to admit it. The more he brooded about it, the more merit the idea seemed to gain. Soon he was quivering with self-righteous anger and glaring at the front of the room. Go ahead an’ blame me. But what did you two do to her? How did your fucked-up marriage—
“Mr. Zales?” Nick looked up in surprise to find a pretty, well-groomed blonde woman standing next to him. Sh
e must have noticed his shock, since she said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you are Nicholas Zales, right? I saw your name in the guest book.”
Nick recovered enough to answer, “Uh, yes, I am.” He stood to face her, explaining, “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just wasn’t expecting anyone here to know me. Were you a friend of Norah’s?”
“No, I’m Amanda Seebold—her sister.”
“Oh, of course, you even look like her.” Swallowing past an enormous lump in his throat, he said, “I’m so sorry about Norah. I thought the world of her.” There was more he would have liked to say, but he found it impossible without starting to cry.
“Believe me, the feeling was mutual. The way she talked about you, she thought you hung the moon. That’s why it makes it so hard to understand….” Amanda stopped and wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks before continuing. “To understand why she would go back—” The rest of her statement was lost in choked sobs, and Nick put a comforting arm around her shoulder. Amanda regained control and looked at Nick gratefully. “I’m sorry about that.”
Finally letting a few tears of his own escape, Nick said, “Don’t be. She was worth our pain.”
“Yes, she was,” Amanda whispered. Then she straightened up and looked over to her parents. Once she caught her father’s eye, Amanda waved them over to that side of the room. Nick watched in surprise as the couple broke away from the man they had been talking with and moved quickly to where he stood with their surviving daughter. “I was right,” she said to her parents. “This is Nick Zales, Norah’s counselor.”
Nick was abashed and humbled at the way Nancy hugged him, and Butch pumped his hand, saying, “It was real good of you to come all this way. Norah talked so much ’bout all you did for her—”
It was all too much for him, too much undeserved praise. Nick had to break in with a choked voice, saying, “I’m so sorry for your loss. And I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more for her. Couldn’t help her.”
Nick was suddenly engulfed in Nancy’s firm embrace as she cried, “I know, hon, I know. I keep thinking the same thing. What didn’t I give my baby? What was she missing that—” Nancy was unable to finish and turned her face into her husband’s sleeve, sobbing helplessly.
“All right, Nance,” Butch said tenderly. “Maybe you should go sit down by your sister again, okay?” He nodded goodbye at Nick and steered his wife over to the front row of chairs.
Amanda said, “I’m gonna go get my mom some water. Thanks again for coming, Nick. If I don’t get a chance to invite you later, there’s a hot supper at the Village Café in Arkport after the funeral. Please stop by if you can.”
“Thank you,” Nick said. He sank back down onto the small sofa, shame now adding further weight to his misery. His temples were starting to pound with an oncoming headache; he closed his eyes against the light from the lamp next to him and rubbed his forehead.
A few seconds later, he felt someone sit next to him on the couch and looked up, expecting to see Amanda, but the figure who greeted him left him momentarily speechless as he struggled to decide if he was glad or annoyed.
“Hello, Nick,” Sister Ciera said solemnly, though her smile was warm.
Nick wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that Ciera was there or that she was there garbed in full nun’s regalia. After returning her greeting, he gestured at her outfit, saying, “Uh, I didn’t even know you had the… umm… get-up.”
“It’s called a habit. Since I’m staying with the Sisters of St. Joseph over in Wayland, I thought I’d better dress the part.” At his puzzled look, she explained, “They’re a bit more formal than my order.”
Having recovered from his initial surprise, Nick asked suspiciously, “Did Trudy send you here?”
“No, I’m not representing ACC, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Not yet convinced, he said, “I didn’t think you and Norah were that close—” he stopped in mid-sentence as he abruptly remembered the connection. “Oh, yeah. She used to help you with the literacy classes when she first came to ACC.”
“That’s right.”
“I almost forgot that.”
Ciera was definitely more subdued than Nick had ever seen her. She didn’t answer immediately but gripped the strand of rosary beads that hung at her waist in silence before saying, “I’ll never forget.” She sighed sadly and added, “Even back then, I really thought she was going to make it.”
Nick slumped back, resting his head in his right hand, saying, “Maybe she would have. If we had…. If only I hadn’t let her go so soon. Too soon.”
“Nick,” Ciera said with a hint of exasperation. “This was not your fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong with clients.” Her hand went back to her rosary. As she fingered the beads, she said, “Speaking of habits—yours is rather destructive. Plus… you’re not as all-powerful as you seem to think.”
Rather than finding comfort, Nick was annoyed by her firm absolution. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that trying to take on all the blame presumes a power you don’t have—no human has. As much as we sometimes want to deny it, we’re mere mortals, and no matter how good or strong or perfect we try to be, bad things are going to happen. If we can’t accept that, then we can’t accept life.”
“So it’s all just random fate, huh? Nothing I could have done to stop it?”
“Probably not. And it wasn’t just random fate. It was evil, evil perpetuated by another human being. A human being over whom you had no control.”
To his consternation, Ciera’s words were reaching a part of him that Nick kept locked away, a part of him that spoke with the voice of a young boy who was tired of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and was crying out for relief. But with the promise of respite came terror, for releasing the burden also meant giving up control. Even if the power was only an illusion, he had clung to it for a long time and found some comfort there. In desperation, Nick tried to stop the control from slipping away. He stabbed back at Ciera, snapping, “So explain to me how your ‘all-loving, all-powerful God’ let this evil happen to Norah.”
Instead of rising to the bait, Ciera seemed to actually consider his question carefully for a few seconds. She stared at the coffin, answering, “I know it has something to do with the free will that God gave to Alex Bogdanov.” Her usually bright eyes were dulled with pain when she looked back at Nick. “But tonight that answer just isn’t good enough.”
After waiting in vain for a “punch line” to that last statement, Nick asked, “So what are you going to do?”
“Pray for the strength to get through this and hope I’m eventually face-to-face with God so He can explain it to me.”
For reasons he didn’t quite understand, the nun’s uncertainty comforted Nick more than any platitude ever could. Though he would never share her absolute faith in God, that didn’t mean Nick had to try and take His place. Maybe no matter what they believed, everyone still had to live with doubts and dangers.
In that moment, Nick knew he was grateful for Ciera’s company. The unlikely pair comforted each other during the evening, exchanging quiet reminisces about Norah for the rest of the viewing and standing side-by-side as the minister read the funeral rites.
Afterwards, Nick walked Ciera to her ancient Subaru Outback. Still undecided himself, he asked, “Are you going to the wake?”
“I don’t think so. It’s in the opposite direction of the convent, and I’m not up to a crowd right now. Are you?”
“I feel the same way,” he agreed. “Not up to a crowd, I mean.”
Ciera cocked her head at him. “Well, I was thinking of getting a drink. Would you like to join me?”
“What do you mean, coffee or something?”
Shrugging, Ciera answered, “If that’s what you want. I was more thinking of a gin and tonic.”
“Really?” Nick asked incredulously.
“Yes. I noticed what looked lik
e a quiet little bar on my way here. Joe’s Tavern on River Street.”
Though the thought of going to a bar with Ciera sounded almost surreal to Nick, he could do with a drink. “Okay.” He glanced at her clothing uncertainly. “Aren’t you going to change first?”
“No. Would you prefer that I did?”
“Umm…. I meant… I didn’t think you could… that you were allowed to go into a bar like… that.”
Ciera’s grin looked almost cocky. “Are you kidding? From what I hear, your drinks are usually cheaper when you’re dressed like this.”
Nick actually managed a small laugh. “Okay, I’ll follow you there.”
Thankfully the bar was every bit as quiet and dark as they could have hoped. The cocktail waitress did seem mildly surprised when they first walked in but escorted them to a booth in the corner without comment. Their drinks, the gin and tonic Ciera had craved along with a shot and beer for Nick, arrived quickly. They sipped in silence until Nick asked Ciera how his clients were doing in his absence.
“It’s only been a week, you know. But everyone misses you.” The characteristic twinkle in her eye appeared for the first time all night. “Especially Trudy, though God knows she’d never admit it. She can be every bit as stubborn as you.”
Upon hearing that assertion, Nick almost choked on the whiskey he was downing. “You think I’m as stubborn as Trudy?” he sputtered.
“No, I think you’re even more stubborn.” She reached for her frosty glass and swallowed a bit of the cocktail before adding, “It’s one of your greatest strengths, I think. But it can also be your biggest weakness.”
Nick turned his attention back to his beer while trying to parse that pronouncement. Before he came up with a retort, Ciera asked about his mom. He bit his lip, remembering how confused and weak Agnes had seemed at his last visit. “She never really recovered from the pneumonia. I had to put her in a nursing home.”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 125
