Although it feels like baby steps, I resolve to start there.
As he takes a sheet from the podium, it looks as if Pastor Cole’s about to launch into more announcements. With a sudden rise of his chin, he looks up from the paper and into the crowd.
“I’d like you all to join me in praying now for our friend Josh Adams, who’s in the hospital after suffering from a fall last night . . .”
I hear nothing more. Norma and I twist toward one another, mouths open, and dart quickly from the pew and out through the massive double doors.
Chapter Eighteen
My heart races again, full-on, catch-in-your-throat racing. Norma and I made it through town fast, considering its length consists of one major street and two stop lights. But getting to the hospital took another twenty-five minutes along a winding, dirt-edged road.
We dash down the hallway of Twin-Towns Medical Center and halt just outside Josh’s room. Words like consciousness and pupils and vomiting flow into the hall and land on us like a stifling hot blanket.
Two beautiful people emerge from Josh’s room. Both tall, the woman’s auburn hair rests on her shoulders and she holds the elbow of a man with deep crow’s feet bordering captivating eyes. Josh’s eyes.
The woman lets go of the man’s elbow. “Norma! So good of you to come.”
The women embrace and Norma reaches to me. “Shirley, have you met Tara?”
The lines near Shirley’s eyes soften. She takes my hand in both of hers. “No, we’ve not yet met, but I’ve heard your name. I’m Josh’s mother. So good to finally meet you.” She hugs me like I’m her own and tears prick my eyelids for the second time this morning.
Norma guides the man my way. “And this is Pete, Josh’s father.”
He shakes my hand vigorously, like we’re old friends. “Josh said you were beautiful and he wasn’t kidding.”
Okay, so now I’m blushing, but at least their son must be all right or they wouldn’t be acting this happy as they greet me in this stark hall.
Shirley takes my arm. “We are thrilled to meet you. I so hope you will accompany Josh to his father’s celebration next month.”
I’m taken aback. “Uh, well . . . that would be lovely.” She’s over the moon; I clear my throat. “Can we see him?”
Pete steps back and sweeps an open arm toward Josh’s room. “Yes, of course. Please.”
Norma stays behind as I step into the room. The low buzz of medical machinery greets me and I grip the doorjamb. I haven’t been in a hospital room since Daddy died and a familiar taste of nausea builds in my throat.
“Tara?” Josh lies in a half-sitting, half-prone position.
I release the doorjamb and approach his bed, fighting a floaty sensation. I’m not sure if it’s a leftover from the days of visiting Daddy, or because of the new kind of intimacy this visit brings. “Hi.”
“How’d you hear?”
“The pastor mentioned it at church—”
“You went to church this morning?”
My eyes narrow. “Why the surprise?”
Josh’s mouth opens and he draws in a quick breath. “No, I mean . . .”
I lower myself to the bed and cover his hand with mine. “Stop. Sorry. You’ve obviously been hurt so this may not be the best time to get into another argument.”
Josh’s lips curl into a smirk. “So we were fighting last night, then?”
I look down at the pale blanket beneath me. “Not fighting, exactly. Maybe moving just a little too fast, though.” I glance into his face. Even with fresh scratches and that yellowing bruise along one chiseled cheekbone, he makes my heart flutter. “What happened to you . . . after you left?”
Josh blows out another breath, this one hard and jagged. “I got careless. Found myself up on a roof in the middle of the night and landed on a soft spot. Tried to right myself, but couldn’t.”
“So you fell off a roof?”
“Onto my shoulder . . . and head. It’s only a mild concussion. I’ll be back at it next week, or maybe sooner.”
“Is that what the doctor told you?”
He tries to shrug, but winces from the pain of a beat-up shoulder. When he sees me watching him, Josh drops the pained expression—as if I didn’t already notice. “They have their policies and I have mine.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
Josh sets his jaw. “I thought you weren’t going to start any more arguments?”
“I’m the one starting all the arguments? Last night you were the one making more of my situation than even I did.”
“If it’s no big deal, then why not tell the rest of your family?”
I stand and cross my arms. “Apparently your memory’s still intact. And I never said it wasn’t a big deal, just that you made more of it than expected. I’m still trying to figure everything out and to make an intelligent decision about where to go from here.” I glance out the window toward a stand of pine so thick it’s a wonder birds can fly through it. “I told you about it for . . .”
“Sympathy?”
I unfold my arms and spike the air with my palms. He’s made up his mind about my situation, which I find odd
since even I’m unsure of all that’s transpired. If only he actually knew my father, he’d be less inclined to accept the worst.
“We’re doing it again.” He glances out the window. “You’re driving me crazy, you know.”
And vice versa. “Josh, I’m glad you’re okay. I know you are committed to your line of work, however dangerous it might be. And when the pastor asked everyone to pray, I just . . .”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You prayed for me?”
“Will you quit doing that?”
He turns both palms toward the ceiling. “What?”
“Finishing my sentences! All I’m saying is that I felt bad that you were hurt, so I came to check up on you. It’s not a crime to care.”
This time Josh’s eyes penetrate mine and despite the budding indignation forming in response to his attitude, a generous ripple skitters through me. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s not a crime at all.”
“C’MON, LET’S GRAB A bite.”
Norma wraps an arm around my shoulder and nudges me toward the hospital cafeteria, which by medical facility standards isn’t all that terrible. They even have color on the walls—azure-blue and fuchsia stripes. Simka would be proud.
Norma fills up her tray while I take a salad from the ice bin and a bottle of water. I could use a cup of coffee, but the last time I’d tasted a cup at a hospital almost cured me of the addiction.
“You and Josh have a spirited relationship.” Norma smiles and takes a bite of mashed potatoes drenched in dark, dense gravy.
“We have differences of opinion.”
Norma wags her head, her mouth in a conceding smile. “All best love matches do.”
I exhale. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why’s he so . . . mysterious?”
Norma laughs. “Mysterious? I’ve never thought of Josh in that way. What makes you ask that?”
“He’s got some strong opinions, but won’t fully explain himself. And why does it seem like he’s on-call with the fire department 24/7? Everybody needs a day off, am I right?”
“I know what you’re saying there.” She takes a sip of her coffee, winces and sets it right back down. “Ever since he handled a particularly tough rescue, he has seemed more focused on the station. I’ve seen him fly out of church even and he spreads himself pretty thin already with all the volunteer hours he puts in.”
“Were you talking about the fire on Fogcatcher Lane—Beth’s house? I live on that street.”
“So you’ve heard about that. It’s still very hard to think about.” Water redness tinges Norma’s eyes. “I’m not sure if he’s really over that one.”
“What happened?”
“Beth hasn’t talked about it much. Not to me, anyway. I was on the care committee that visite
d her in the hospital afterward and that’s when our friendship really began. All I really know is that the fire got started in the kitchen.” She lowers her voice. “Gordon—he’s her ex-husband—he was always such a cheapskate and the rumor is he rigged a lot of the switches and outlets himself. I read in the paper that some of them may not have worked, which may be one reason a couple of the outlets were so overloaded. Just a matter of time till one of them sparked.”
I shake my head, my eyes stinging.
“In any case, the fire got big real fast and Beth was asleep. Thank God the baby wasn’t with her at the time!”
“So Josh was on the fire crew that got called.”
Norma touches my hand. “Oh no, honey. No one had even called the fire department. He was just walking by when he saw the smoke.”
I cover my mouth.
“Of course, Josh called in and by the time they arrived he’d already pulled Beth out. Poor thing was bleeding heavily . . . she got caught on some broken glass.” Norma pushes her tray away. “She’s private about it and I haven’t wanted to pry, but her arm’s very scarred.”
“That must be why she always wears long sleeves.”
Norma scrunches her lips, then something like light dawns on her face and she nods. “Yes, I hadn’t noticed that, but yes, you’re right. I don’t think she wants to draw attention to herself.”
“Or remember what happened.” Heaviness sinks in my chest as I dwell on Beth’s misfortune. “Then Josh is truly a hero, isn’t he?”
Norma chuckles. “I and just about anyone around here would say so. But don’t tell him that.”
“I know. He’ll deny it.”
A shadow crosses Norma’s face. “I can understand humility, but Josh has a way of almost taking offense when someone suggests he was heroic. Did you know the town wanted to give him a medal? Wouldn’t hear of it.” She shakes her head. “Some have said that he blames himself for her injury, but no one else would. Not ever. That man’s just too hard on himself.”
“Hard on himself, yes. I’d agree with that.” Maybe that’s why he’s also hard on his father and even on my father. I push the lettuce around in its drippy dressing. “So the daredevil thing. You think he wants to prove something?”
Norma, whose emotions had been bordering on the edge, suddenly smiles. “Like just about every other man I know.”
We laugh, lightening the mood when a familiar face arrives at our table, tray in hand.
“Can I and the missus join you?” Burton Sims stands there holding a tray with four donuts and one large cup of coffee. Beside him, a white-haired woman holds a small jar of apple juice.
“Of course, please sit.” Norma slides her plate over to make some room and I follow along. “Burton, I’d like you
to meet—”
“Tara Sweet. I never forget a pretty face.”
I lean forward. “We actually met last week.”
His wife elbows him in the side as he begins to sit, causing Burton to jolt to a stop mid-bend. “And this is m’ wife, Glory.”
I smile at her. “Hello, Glory.”
“You’re the spittin’ image of your mother, Tara. The spittin’ image!”
I’ve heard this on occasion and although it certainly is a compliment, I just don’t see it. But I nod and grin anyway. “Thank you for saying so.”
“When Burton told me you were back in town, I said, ‘I just can’t wait to see those girls again!’ After all the mess your parents went through, I was just so tickled to hear that you girls came out on the better side.”
Norma gapes at me and I want to bolt. “What did your parents go through? Or is it okay for me to know?”
I open my mouth, but Glory’s faster than I am. “We thought they’d make it—Tara’s mother was so darling—until that Gigi or Fifi, or whatever she called herself, came back into town. Oh, she had a mean thing for your father, but so hot and cold, that one. It’s no wonder the man was confused.”
Gigi. A thing for Daddy. Confused. The echoes ricochet through my mind and a slow, steady heat wave burns through me. I catch my breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Glory’s mouth and eyes morph into three large circles. “Oh, dear. Burton, I thought you said you talked to the girl.”
Burton swigs his coffee and slams the Styrofoam cup down so hard it dents one edge. “Darn it, Glory. It’s not right to talk about the dead. Tara’s had plenty of time to get past old news, so let her be.”
Everything around me slows. Chatter in the cafeteria sinks into the background. Indistinct sounds of chairs sliding and dishes clinking become dim. Colors fade. Although my eyes remain open, I see nothing until a picture forms in my mind. My parents argue in the living room of our old home on Pelican Lane. Mom’s crying and lurching toward the front door. Daddy’s crying too and pulling on her sleeve. I turn from my vantage point just inside the archway that leads to our dreary hall and see Mel standing there, dressed in one of our mother’s long gowns. She’s wearing bright yellow beads, a pair of Daddy’s dress shoes and a scowl that could chase babies away.
I slip my arm around her tiny shoulders and together we turn from the commotion and head down the hall to the room we both shared. The memory of leading Mel away from the awful scene constricts my breathing, like a punch to the stomach. What were my parents fighting about? And is it my imagination, or had Mel and I witnessed their arguments more than I’ve been willing to accept?
Chapter Nineteen
I snap out of my trance and bolt right out of that hospital cafeteria. Norma tries to stop me, but she was no match for all the breath training I’d had in high school. I may not have been the fastest runner in the pack—okay, the slowest, really—but I could discuss the story line of Quartz Point for the entire six-mile run without breaking a sentence.
A feat to be proud of as any.
I’m halfway down the winding hill that leads to the hospital when it dawns on me that I’m not in high school anymore. That and I have no idea how to get back. As I wonder where to turn, Glory’s pronouncement settles into the deepest part of my psyche, the place that has the ability to make me either rise above, or collapse into the bitter depths. I move slowly in the direction that instinct tells me to go, rolling rogue thoughts over in my mind.
Glory’s words were blunt and biting, although by the way she delivered them she had no idea they’d hurt. In fact, they cut me in a way that even Trent’s abandonment could not match—which says something about my attachment to him (or lack thereof). And yet, somehow, though it’s painful to admit, there’s a truth attached to them that I have yet to fully acknowledge.
Tires spinning to a stop pull me to the present. “Tara! Let me take you home.” Norma’s across the street, calling to me.
I cross toward her, zombie-like, and climb into her car. She takes off when I shut the door and we wind along in silence.
Finally she speaks. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I turn my chin, making myself look at her. “Sorry. No.”
Norma nods, both hands still grip the steering wheel. “So I guess Glory dropped a bombshell on you back there.” She looks over at me. “Hate it when that happens.”
Her attempt at humor pokes a hole in the dam and I start to laugh. The absurdity of the past weeks hits me then and I laugh more. Harder. Instead of a ring, Trent gives me the boot. I lose my job. My mother marries a boy. I laugh until tears fill my eyes and drop onto my lap. I pack up our home—and our life, for goodness sake—only to find out that paradise stinks! The laughter that began with the flood of realization gradually turns, until I’m crying into my hands, the world as I know it flowing away with each tear. The sobs come next, wracking me from my gut and I can’t stop the emotion. Nor do I care to try very hard at all.
At some point the car stops, and Norma’s familiar hug pulls me close. I’m gasping and spewing tears and snorting, trying to keep snot from sullying her blouse. “First I learn that my father took someone’s money. An
d now this. I want to go back home, but my sisters want to stay. I’m . . . just . . . so . . . unhappy.”
Norma pats my back. “I didn’t know all that. It’s been a hard time for you, but what about Josh? Isn’t he worth staying around for?”
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and look out the window, as if somehow this would shield me from Norma’s gaze. “I’m not sure having Josh in my life would be such a good idea right now.”
Norma pulls back. “Why in the world not?”
“Why am I bothering you with this? You barely know me.” A staccato sigh forces its way through my lungs. “I just ended a relationship back in Missouri. Actually, he ended it.” I drop my head forward and stare into my hands, my tears in a hovering stage.
“So then you’re free. Right?”
I lift my eyes and find Norma’s. “On the contrary, I feel more burdened than ever. Josh is an amazing man.” A palpable pain runs through my chest. He’s already under my skin. “This . . . this in there . . . the things Glory said, along with the angry things Peg has said . . .” I shake my head. “I just can’t comprehend it all, not in a real way. My parents had this love, this connection, you know? I’ve always wanted the same thing, but now? I’m so confused.”
“That makes perfect sense, but what doesn’t is why you won’t let Josh work through this with you. I think he really cares for you, Tara.”
“And what about the next time he decides to put himself in danger in the middle of the night, just for sport? What then? I need a man I can rely on, not worry over all the time.”
Norma’s expression falls, a frown tugging at her mouth. She looks away. “Sometimes that’s not possible. But you love anyway and it doesn’t matter anymore because you are loved back.”
I reach out to her. “I’m sorry. Josh told me that your husband’s been ill, and of course you worry about him.”
Sweet Waters Page 13
