“I doubt it.”
“I need to try. I don’t want to go to my Maker with that on my soul. Just let me talk to them once. After that, I’ll leave. I want to know I tried, that I gave it my best shot.”
“You’re looking for absolution, Logan, and we’re fresh out. You know that old saying, too much, too little, too late.”
“When you’re dying it’s never too late. I thought I could stay here, help out, do whatever is needed until I get to the point where I have to go to the hospital for the last time. I’d like us to have another shot at our marriage. We were happy once. We could be that way again. I always loved you, Kris. We were so good together. Those wonderful memories are what kept me going these last eight years.”
“Stop it, Logan. I don’t want to hear all this. I divorced you. I had you declared dead. You aren’t in my life, and that was by your choice. I would have taken care of you. I believed in the vow, in sickness and health, till death do us part. I would have honored that. Why couldn’t you trust me?”
“I was trying to spare you and the kids. The end isn’t going to be pretty. When I did my disappearing act, I thought I only had months to live, a year at the most, unless a miracle was found along the way. Eight years later I’m still looking for that miracle. I wanted you to be my miracle, Kris. I really did. Tomorrow before I leave, try and get the kids to talk to me so I can explain things. I don’t want them to carry around hatred for me all their lives. By the way, I want to be cremated.”
“Shut up, Logan. Just shut up.”
“Would you mind getting me a glass of water, Kris. I need to take my pills. I’m a few hours late in taking them. That dog wouldn’t let me move.”
Kristine felt a rush of guilt. She filled a water glass and handed it to Logan. She watched as he pulled six different pill bottles from his heavy jacket. He lined them up with precision before he popped the lids to shake them out.
“What are they?” she asked.
Logan shrugged. “They all have names that are difficult to pronounce. They’re keeping me alive. One of these days they won’t work anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kristine said. “I’m going to bed. You can sleep on the couch.”
“Wait a minute, Kristine. I want to give you something. I didn’t come empty-handed.”
Kristine watched as Logan withdrew a jeweler’s box from the inside pocket of his heavy jacket. He slid it across the table toward her. In spite of herself, she picked it up. She gasped. “It’s beautiful, but you need to take it back. I don’t move in the circles where I would wear something like this. I work with the animals all day. Return it and get your money back.” She slid the velvet box across the table. Hot tears pricked her eyelids again. She needed to get away from this man and into the privacy of her room, where she could think and allow herself to feel all the emotions she was trying to stifle.
“I thought you would like it. Each stone is flawless. A half carat each. One for each year of our married life, even the last eight. I guess I can’t do anything right. I’m sorry if I made a poor choice.”
“I do like it. It’s gorgeous. However, it’s not practical for someone like me.”
“Why are you working so hard? Didn’t you come into a hefty inheritance? Why are you doing all this? There must be a hundred dogs here. This can’t be sanitary.”
“Sixty dogs. The heat went out. Yes, the inheritance came through, but it’s going right back out. It’s a long story, and I’m too tired to go into it. I have to work. I have to make this business into something that will provide security for our children and grandchildren.”
“But the inheritance, I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. Your ancestors and my ancestors were the worst kind of slave traders. What they did to their workers was a sin. For the past four years Mr. Valarian and I have been working to try to track down descendants of those families so we can make things right. I don’t want that kind of money on my conscience. Nor do my kids. We’re giving it back.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Kristine,” Logan sputtered. “I resent your implying my ancestors had anything to do with something like that.”
“I have the records, Logan. There are slave lists. The words are so ugly I find myself getting sick each time I say them out loud. I spent four years of my life following up leads, writing letters, going all over the country trying to find families our families tore apart. It was an ugly, hateful, disgusting thing to have happened, and if I can do something about it, I will. You believe what you want to believe, and I’ll believe what I know I can prove.”
Logan sighed. “You always were a do-gooder. I guess that was one of the reasons I loved you. I still do, Kristine. Can you ever forgive me, Kris? I know you still care for me. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Come along. I’ll walk you to the couch. It’s warm in the house, so you won’t need any covers. Stay on the couch and don’t get off, or the dogs will go after you. You’re new to them, and I can’t vouch for your safety. They’ve been through one trauma today. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Kristine?”
“What?”
“Merry Christmas.”
Kristine nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
In her room with the door closed, Kristine started to pace. From time to time she knuckled her eyes. Logan was dying. She needed to deal with that. Could she turn her back on him? Did she dare risk losing her children’s love and respect for a man like Logan? What kind of person would she be if she turned her back on a dying man? No better than some of her ancestors. A divorce decree was a piece of paper. She’d borne the man downstairs on the couch three children. How did you turn your back on family? On the father of your children? What would six months or a year be out of her life?
What about Woodie? She should call him. To try and explain. He’d looked so miserable and sad when he left. Woodie would never understand if she allowed Logan to stay and die at the farm. As broad-minded and as understanding as Woodie was, his mind would be closed to anything other than Logan leaving. Maybe she could let him stay in the apartment over the garage. If he didn’t make his presence known and felt, perhaps the kids would tolerate him. Did she dare go to Pete and Carol and hope they had enough influence over their mates to ... what? All she was doing was passing the buck so she wouldn’t have to face down her own children.
Kristine sat down in the rocking chair. Soft little mewling sounds escaped her lips. It wasn’t fair. As Woodie said, life was never fair. You deal with it, then you move on. She eyed the phone. She knew if she called Woodie, he would pick up the phone on the first ring. If she called him, what would she say? What would he say?
The hot tears stinging her eyelids finally rolled down her cheeks. She crept from the rocker to drop to her knees. “Please, God, tell me what to do. Help me do the right thing for everyone.”
18
With the one remaining thin quilt from her bed, Kristine wrapped herself for warmth. She curled up on the window seat to stare out at the cold, snowy night. Her index finger idly scratched at the frost on the drafty windows before she stuck her hands down into the quilt. If she sat there long enough, maybe she would freeze to death and then she wouldn’t have to deal with Logan’s return.
Why now? Why this particular Christmas? Is this some terrible game he is playing? Do people ever lie about dying? Would Logan lie about something as serious as dying? Once she would have disavowed any such thinking. He looks well, tanned, healthy. When will he start to deteriorate? He says he loves me, and yet he abandoned me. To spare me anguish. And then the bracelet and the expensive skis. What does that mean? Is everything he says suspect? He returned my money along with interest. He said. I never looked at the contents of the envelope. If the money is coming back to me, it is honest money, money from my parents that Logan had invested. It would be the kids’ to keep, to do whatever they wanted. It would certainly make life a whole lot easier. We could build a new barn, demolish the
old one and possibly even build a larger kennel. With the way the business was growing, it would be the way to go. Mike and his family would be part of it. Tyler’s share would be carved out for him.
Maybe I’ll take a vacation with my eight thousand dollars. I’ll go far away, maybe some third-world country where no one knows me. Or, maybe I’ll go to some lush, exotic paradise, where people will wait on me hand and foot, or until my money runs out.
If only I lived in a perfect world.
Kristine crept off the window seat and dropped to her knees. She needed to pray, something she didn’t do on a regular basis. “Oh, Holy Father . . .”
She heard the snick the doorknob made when the door opened. She turned to see her three children outlined in the dim hall light. She stumbled over to the fireplace and watched as Mike, his face grim, added more logs to the dying embers. They sat, Indian fashion, in a tight little circle. They were waiting for her to say something.
“I’ve been praying. I know what you all want me to do. I want to do it, too. However, after you all came upstairs, I went into the kitchen and spoke with your father, who by the way is sleeping on the sofa. He won’t move till morning.”
“What could he possibly have to say, Mom, that would even make you think about allowing him to stay?” Mike asked.
“He’s dying.”
“Yeah, right,” Cala said.
“I don’t remember Dad every telling outright lies,” Tyler said. “He was always right up front, in your face. He used to beat our asses if he even thought we were lying. Do you believe him, Mom?”
“He brought back our money. I can’t imagine someone lying about dying. I suppose there is that possibility. He said he wants to die here. He’s going to a specialist in Washington. He said he was on a donor list, but that he was far down on the list. He said when he left us he was told by one of his doctors that he only had a few months, and he was trying to spare us.”
“Eight years ago!” Mike said, disbelief on his face. “Now it doesn’t bother him to come home to die? What am I missing?”
“I don’t think you’re missing anything, Mike. He wants to be around his family when his . . . time comes. He wants to talk to all of you in the morning. It’s up to you if you want to listen. I don’t want any of you to have any regrets later on. He said if we didn’t want him here, he would take a hotel room in Washington. Christmas is supposed to be a time of miracles. I think he’s viewing us taking him back, as a miracle.”
“What about Woodie, Mom?” Cala asked.
“I don’t know, Cala. I have to think about all that. I can only deal with one thing at a time. What did Pete and Carol say? They do have a say, you know.”
“Pete said . . . what he said was . . . he can’t, he won’t desert you. He said if I want to stay in town that’s okay. I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Carol wants to stay. She’s Miss Peacemaker herself. She loves it here. She did say the decision was up to me,” Mike said.
“Tyler?”
“This is something for the rest of you to decide. I’m going to be leaving. Death is final. I think we’ve all read articles, seen shows, heard people say that they wished they had done this or done that before a loved one died. Mom’s right. I don’t think any of us wants regrets later on. My vote is to allow him to stay and die here in peace. How hard is it to be civil? I’m not talking about love. He destroyed that. Even if Dad doesn’t think so, we turned out to be decent human beings. I’m not a parent, but I would think your kids have the right to know their grandparent. When they get older they’re going to ask questions. Do you want to lie to them? Kids have a way of looking at things differently than adults. That’s all I have to say. Oh yeah, I say we throw those shitty skis he brought us in the old barn.”
“Your father brought me a diamond bracelet with a half-carat diamond for every year we’ve been married,” Kristine said in a strangled-sounding voice. “I gave it back. It’s on the kitchen table with the envelope. That’s our money. We can do whatever we want with it. That doesn’t go into the . . . fund.”
“Do you want him to stay, Mom?” Mike asked.
“God, no! However, it is the right thing to do. He was my husband. I loved him with all my heart at one point in time. He’s your father. You can never change the part of you that is his flesh and blood. If we don’t do the right thing today, none of us will ever truly enjoy another Christmas. That much I do believe.”
“Mom’s right. Pete said almost the exact same thing, but in a different way. Pete’s staying.”
“So did Carol. Okay, Mom. Just don’t expect me to hold his hand. I can be civil and polite. That’s as far as I’m willing to go,” Mike said.
“I knew I looked up to you for a reason,” Tyler said, clapping his hand on his brother’s back.
“Where has he been, Mom?” Cala asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to know. I’m not handling this any better than you are. I admit it, I don’t know what to think or do. He seemed sincere.” She hated her shaking voice, hated the way her body was trembling.
Cala was bending, Kristine could see it in the set of her shoulders and the expression in her eyes. Why was it so easy for women to forgive and forget?
“If he stays,” Mike asked, “where . . . exactly will he be staying?”
Kristine cringed as three sets of eyes bored into her. Where indeed? “The apartment over the garage is empty. Of course the stairs might become a problem at some point. We could clean out the storage room. It’s quite large. A portable heater or two, and it would serve the purpose. The bathroom is right next door to it and the kitchen is right here. That would probably be the best choice for . . . for later on. For now, if you all agree, the apartment will do nicely. If you’re wondering if he’s going to be making any trips to the second floor, get that idea right out of your heads. We are divorced.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard three sighs of relief.
“Woodie?” Cala ventured again. “What about your wedding? It’s only a week away.”
“Under the circumstances ...” Kristine let whatever she was about to say hang in the air.
“I want to make sure I understand something. Dad left us because some doctor told him he was going to die. Within a short period of time. Let’s say a year. It is now eight years later, and he’s still alive and looks as good as the last time I saw him. Yet he says he’s still dying only this time it’s for sure. You know, definite. Unless he gets a kidney transplant, which seems unlikely if he hasn’t gotten one in eight years. Speaking strictly for myself, I think the whole thing is a crock,” Mike said.
“Medical conditions sometimes go into remission. For years. Other times, they worsen very quickly. Medication can only do so much. Your father mentioned dialysis. He seems to have taken care of everything in regard to ... to ... his condition. It seems he’s been in DC for over a week meeting with a specialist who was recommended to him. He did say if we didn’t want him here, he would go to Washington and get a hotel . . .”
“You sound so forgiving, Mom. I guess I’m trying to figure out why,” Mike said.
“Because I let it all go. I’m happy now. I have all of you, the little ones, Woodie and Pete and Carol. The business is doing so well it’s downright scary. What more could I possibly want? What does your father have? No family, no career, no home, and he’s dying.”
Bitterness rang in Mike’s voice. “By his own choice.”
“We all make bad choices at one time or another. I’ve certainly made my share. I learned from mine. Some people are not that fortunate. I’m not sure if your father is one of those people or not. Time will tell us which way it’s going to be.”
“What time is it?” Tyler asked.
Cala looked at her watch. “Four-thirty. We might as well get dressed and go downstairs. The dogs will be ready to go out soon. The girls will be getting up around six-thirty, if not sooner. Then there’s breakfast.”
“We have to do some more shov
eling. It’s been snowing steadily since we came upstairs. Do we do breakfast before we do the gift opening? What do you think is best?” Kristine asked fretfully. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to think clearly right now.”
“I say we wing it. Let’s get the shoveling out of the way first. I’ll wake Pete and Jack. Will you ask Carol if she’ll keep her ears open for the girls in case they wake up?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes,” Mike said.
“I’ll be the guy at the bottom of the steps,” Tyler said.
“Mom, I need to ask you something. What did you feel when Dad walked through the door?” Cala asked.
“Rage, hate, dying love. I think I ran the whole gamut. Part of me wanted to pound him to a bloody pulp with my bare hands. Another part of me wanted to run to him, to hug him. Only because he was alive and finally we knew it for a fact. Right now I don’t feel anything. Possibly sadness because our lives will go on, and his won’t. I want you all to think about something. Look at all of us and then look at what your father is facing. We survived these past eight years on our own. We are better people for it, too. We’re healthy, we’re happy, our business is thriving, and we have many, many tomorrows to look forward to. We’ll be able to watch the children grow up here. We are blessed. Sometimes we just don’t take the time to think about things like that. I want you all to think about that while you’re out there shoveling.”
Cala turned and came back to her mother. “You’re right about everything. Maybe some good will come out of this, Mom. None of us likes the situation, but it’s in front of us and we have to deal with it and we will. I’m sure we’ll stumble and fall, and I’m also sure there will be harsh words, but we’ll survive. It’s Christmas morning. You should call Woodie. Merry Christmas, Mom.”
Kristine didn’t trust herself to speak. She could feel her eyes start to fill. When the door closed behind her children, she sat down on the edge of the bed and let the tears flow. Sniffling, she made her way to the bathroom. She’d call Woodie after she showered and dressed.
Celebration Page 32
