Promises to Keep

by Shirley Hailstock

  She dropped her head. “I knew he had sickle cell trait.”

  “Do you have it, too?” It was a long shot, but Parker asked, anyway.

  She stalked away from him then. “I had the doctors test me when Marshall told me he had it. I wanted to have children, and needed to know if they would possibly have the disease. And then he was gone.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  “Marshall didn’t die from sickle cell trait. He had something else. Something we never knew about until after the fact. If he knew about it, he kept it from all of us.”

  McKenna turned and looked at him.

  “Sit down,” Parker said.

  McKenna headed for a visitors, bench nearby. It faced the mountain where people could take in the scenic beauty of the landscape. The ski trails were on the other side, out of direct view. Parker sat next to her.

  “The coroner discovered that Marshall had a disease called AMS, acute mountain sickness. It’s rare and often associated with another disease called high-altitude cerebral edema. Together these conditions have serious drawbacks. However, a skier is relatively safe under 14,000 feet.”

  “We’re under 14,000.”

  Parker paused, allowing McKenna to process what he was telling her. “The cerebral edema condition and the sickle cell combined, causing him to become drowsy, confused and disoriented. He passed out. Search and rescue didn’t find him for over an hour. By then it was too late.”

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  Parker knew that was coming and was prepared for it. He would tell her now, looking her directly in the face. “The group of us had left the slope to get ready for dinner. Marshall said he’d forgotten something at the lift and would be right in. I went to my room. He must have decided to take one more run before coming back.”

  “What did he forget?” Unshed tears made her eyes glisten, he noticed.

  Parker stood up and reached into his pocket. He drew out a small medallion on a broken chain. McKenna rose from the bench and took it.

  “Why would he leave this behind?”

  “He realized the chain had broken just as we were getting on the ski lift. We had our gloves and poles, everything on. It was awkward to unzip a pocket. Marshall asked the lift operator to hold it for him. He’d come back to get it after our run.”

  McKenna stared down at the golden disk.

  “I gave him this,” she said. She rubbed her thumb over the raised engraving of a car. On the back were their initials entwined. “The car represented the first one we owned together. I had two of these medallions made. I didn’t know Marshall had his with him. After he died, I never looked for it. When they sent his effects, I never went through them.”

  “This one was sent to me.” Parker’s heart thudded hard against his chest when she looked up at him.

  Their faces close, maybe too close.

  “The lift operator forgot Marshall’s name, but he remembered mine. The note he sent said he’d forgotten all about it, having put it in his pocket at the end of that day. As the season was finishing, he hadn’t worn those same clothes again until he sent them to be cleaned. The cleaners returned the chain and pendant to him and he got my address from the clerk and sent them to me to pass on.”

  “Thank you,” McKenna said. She closed her fingers slowly over the medallion.

  Parker took a deep breath. This would make or break whether he and McKenna would ever be anything but friends. “I brought you here for two reasons,” he said.

  “What are they?” Again, the softness of her voice was nearly his undoing.

  “I wanted to tell you the whole truth. I know you blamed me for Marshall’s death.”

  “Can you ever forgive me?” McKenna asked. “I am so, so sorry. I thought since the two of you were such good friends, you could have and should have done something to prevent it happening. But you weren’t there. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “And I’m sure,” he told her. “I’m sure Marshall didn’t know about the AMS. The group of us had come here before, but never when that trail was open. Usually we stayed at the lower elevations. This time it seemed the snow was right and the trail was open. And the elevation was within the safety limit.”

  “But for a broken chain...” she said.

  * * *

  “LET’S GO BACK,” McKenna said.

  “Back to the hotel or back to Flagstaff?”

  “The hotel,” she clarified. “We’ve driven a long while today and a lot of weight has been lifted from both our shoulders. But even though the load is lighter, I’m still tired. I’m betting you are, too.”

  They returned to the car and Parker opened the passenger side door for her. Before getting in the Corvette, McKenna put her hands on his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

  He seemed to search her eyes for a long moment. So long that the tension between them stirred again. McKenna wondered what he was thinking. His head dipped forward and she caught her breath.

  Stopping him from completing his intended action, she spoke. “You said there were two reasons you brought me here. What’s the second one?”

  “To say goodbye, if you want to. You never have.”

  McKenna peered over his shoulder at the mountain that had taken her husband. She no longer felt the sharp pain of loss. She felt renewed, ready to go on and begin once more.

  “Goodbye, Marshall,” she whispered. “I’m going to be all right.” She addressed the wind as she took Parker’s arm and raised her gaze to meet his.

  Standing face to face, she moved her arms to his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. Immediately Parker crushed her to him, kissing her long and hard, wanting to continue holding her until the sun set and rose again.

  * * *

  IT WAS AS IF that soft breeze on the mountain blew away years of mistrust. The air between her and Parker was so clean.

  McKenna woke in the resort bed. A sliver of light peeked through the curtains telling her she’d slept longer than usual. Maybe because when she’d gone to bed she and Parker were friends. Friends who’d kissed a couple of times, but were not lovers. She could no longer make him her enemy or blame him for her husband’s death.

  Parker had told her going to the mountain was her real reason for taking this trip. She admitted that could have been true. Although she’d had no intention of going there at all, she’d recognized she would be near the place as she drove on Route 66. Maybe she’d have made the detour alone. She’d never know.

  Actually seeing the mountain was better than imagining what it looked like. And finding that out, knowing the truth released her from the bonds that had held her immobile for three years, felt good. Life was brighter this morning than it had ever been in the past three years. She had a new energy and was ready for the next adventure.

  Something else had occurred to her. That her seeing the place where Marshall died was also Parker’s reason for insisting on accompanying her. When she thought back over their small arguments about returning to Chicago, he’d given in rather quickly. He never wanted to go back. He wanted to get to this place so he could show her the mountain and tell her the truth.

  It was worth it, she thought.

  Getting up, she went to the bathroom, washed and dressed. Parker was waiting when she came out. They smiled as they passed each other.

  “Ready for breakfast?” he asked when he emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, his hair still wet from a morning shower. She remembered the feel of his hair in Catoosa when he’d fallen asleep on the floor in their room.

  “Ready,” she said. McKenna drove them to a nearby restaurant where they had great food and coffee for less than half the price of the resort breakfast. “I picked up some brochures in the lobby on skydiving in Phoenix.” She pulled them out of her purse and laid them on the table.

  “You’re
still interested in doing that?” he practically blurted.

  “Of course. I’ve done some of the things I always wanted to do. You should, too. This might be your only chance to do them.” McKenna regretted the words as soon as she said them.

  “Don’t do that,” Parker said.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t edit yourself like that. Everything doesn’t apply to Marshall’s untimely death. There are going to be comments that can be taken both ways, but only if you mean them as such. And I’ll know if that’s the case.”

  “All right.” She plucked up a brochure. “I’ve been checking our finances again. This is expensive. We’ll need jobs in order to do this and get to California.”

  “I hope to find something that doesn’t involve boxes and shipping.” He laughed. It was the first time McKenna truly appreciated hearing it.

  * * *

  PHOENIX WAS ANOTHER detour off Route 66. Driving into the flat countryside of adobe houses and a bustling downtown core was like finding a smaller version of Chicago set among a moonscape. Cacti surprised them, growing in unexpected places, as did seeing homes with airplane hangars in place of garages.

  McKenna got her camera out and began snapping pictures.

  “You must have quite a photo history of this trip,” Parker said.

  “I do. I’m going to bore Adrienne, Lydia and Sara to death when we get back.”

  “We are getting close to the end,” he said. “Glad you came?”

  “I’ve loved this. I am so glad I had the courage to do it.”

  “Courage, you? I never doubted for a minute that you were afraid of anything.”

  “Not afraid, exactly,” McKenna said. “At least not until my friends made me doubt myself. Their intentions were good, but I’m glad I ignored their advice. Given everything that’s happened so far, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

  “Even the robbery?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

  “Okay. Not that, but if it hadn’t been for the robbery, we might not have met Joanna and Sherry. I wouldn’t be Ms. Zeke. And you and I could still be polite enemies.”

  “Then it was worth every mile, every muscle ache, every bad meal and hard bed.”

  McKenna smiled.

  “Look,” Parker said. “There’s a help-wanted sign. Here’s a place where I know my way around.”

  He waited at a light and made a left turn onto a road that led to the University of Phoenix campus. Following the road where it led, he eventually stopped at not one but three buildings before locating the right spot. McKenna waited in the car until he returned.

  The job was janitorial. They needed an extra cleaner for the classroom buildings. He’d work nights from six till ten. It paid union scale, which was more than minimum wage, and he didn’t have to be a member of the union.

  “The job is temporary,” the hiring manager had told Parker. “We got a guy on medical leave. He could be back in a week, maybe six weeks. Not sure when. You know, insurance companies run the hospitals and doctors’ offices now.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll only be here a few weeks at the most,” Parker replied honestly. “I can help out until he returns or you hire someone permanently.”

  “There’s a lot of paperwork to fill out, even for temporary employees. This is a school, so we have to be careful of people with arrest records...”

  “Sexual predators, child molesters, I know the drill,” Parker finished for him. “Tell me where to go and I’ll start completing those forms.”

  They’d shaken hands and Parker headed for the administration building.

  * * *

  JOBS DIDN’T DROP in McKenna’s lap the same way they appeared to do with Parker. He’d barely step on the ground when a job would be right there waiting for him. She had to go from place to place, searching for something, anything.

  This time, she decided to cut her losses by starting with a temporary agency. Willing to do either one-day assignments or work at the same place for a small amount of time got her steady work.

  As they sat at breakfast later, Parker took a drink of his coffee and set the cup down. “I know you always do the finances, but by my calculations, it will take two weeks for both of us to get a paycheck. That would cover the cost of skydiving if we didn’t have expenses like eating and lodging.

  “In order to pay for everything and live, we’re going to have to do something else.”

  “Any ideas?” she asked.

  “One. Our greatest outlay of cash is the motel. I spoke with the university and asked if we could somehow stay on campus, given it’s the summer session.”

  “On campus? You mean like in a dorm room?” McKenna smiled. She wasn’t opposed to dorms. It had been years.

  “Don’t jump so quickly, there’s a catch.” He wagged a finger at her, grinning.

  “What is it?”

  “Since I have a connection with a university they are willing to accept my credentials and allow me to have a room.”

  “And me?”

  “The room is for married students.”

  “We’re not married.”

  “I didn’t tell them that.”

  McKenna didn’t know how to respond. “We need to pretend to be married? What if it’s for a while, not just a week or so?” She mentally did the math, figuring out how much money they would need for skydiving and living expenses, plus they still needed to pay for gas to get to California.

  “People have been thinking we were married all the while as we’ve driving across country. This time we’ll just not tell them the complete truth.”

  “You mean I should lie?” she asked.

  “I mean you should focus on reaching a goal. If it would hurt someone, I’d say no. But there seems to be no harm here and we’ll get to California that much faster.”

  Parker’s logic wasn’t flawless, but it was reasonable. The alternative would be to eliminate the skydiving and just go on to California, but it was the only thing he’d said he really wanted to do. So far McKenna had done what she’d set out to do. Parker should have a chance to do the same and she wanted to be the one to help him do it. He’d more than earned this one reward.

  “Okay,” she said. “If you can stand me as your wife, even temporarily, I can do it.”

  “You’re not the Wicked Witch of the West,” he said.

  “No, I’m from the East.”

  * * *

  PARKER THOUGHT THE university housing was a stroke of luck, especially since he and McKenna were traveling so light they had their backpacks in the car and could check out of the motel without returning.

  After work that evening, the true light of their decision presented itself as the two of them stood in the doorway of a married-students dorm room. There were no cooking facilities, although there was a mini refrigerator in the corner. It had a sign on it proclaiming it Property of the University of Phoenix.

  In the center of the room was a double bed, unmade, but with two sheets and a blanket folded and waiting.

  McKenna stepped inside. Parker closed the door and they both stared at the one bed.

  “Any suggestions?” she asked.

  He looked at her. “I’ll take the floor.”

  “You can’t sleep on the floor,” she told him. “Doing that will make your back ache. And someone planning to go skydiving doesn’t need to begin the adventure with a disadvantage.”

  Looking around the room, Parker saw two doors. He assumed they were closets. One led to a small bathroom containing a shower, no tub. The other however led to a small sitting room. “There’s a sofa!” he exclaimed as if he’d discovered the cure for the common cold.

  McKenna followed after him. The room was tiny, but it contained a flat screen television, a sofa, a table and chairs for
studying.

  “I’ll take this,” she said. “I’m shorter.” She went over and sat on the sofa. It was hard. She lay down, tucking her arm under her head. “It’s perfect.”

  And so their routine began as a married couple.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE YOUNG MAN couldn’t be more than nineteen. This was probably the summer after his freshman year at the university, judging by the textbook he dropped on the classroom floor. Parker read the white letters on a muted green background—Introduction to Economics.

  The man looked up at him as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. His teenage acne was clearing up. By the time he reached Parker’s age, he wouldn’t remember the angst of this period in his life.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think anyone was here.” He started to rise.

  “Stay.” Parker put his hand out to stop him. “You’re not in my way.”

  The man gave him a shy smile and resumed his seat. He opened the book about a third of the way in.

  “Summer school?” Parker asked, opening a conversation, while he pushed the large broom around gathering the remnants of a day’s debris.

  He winced. “And this course is kicking my butt. I probably would do better if I’d studied Greek, since this seems like a foreign language to me.”

  Parker stifled a laugh. “It can’t be that bad. It’s just a few graphs.”

  “That’s just it, it’s all graphs. Some don’t make sense to me. Most of them don’t make sense.”

  “What’s your major?” Parker asked.

  “I haven’t declared one, but believe me, it won’t be Economics.” The man glanced with disgust at the open textbook.

  Parker leaned his broom against the doorway and approached the young man. He perched on a desk next to him.

  “Parker Fordum,” he said, offering his hand.

  The young man took it and shook firmly. “Austin Rockwell.”

  “Well, Austin, let’s look at what you need to do.”

  “You know this stuff?” Austin asked, surprise evident in his voice.

  “I’ve taken a course or two.” Parker didn’t want to intimidate him by telling him he taught the subject and that he’d written the textbook he was using. The young man would learn more if he thought the two of them were on an even footing.