by John Herrick
Eyes drilled to a repair-in-progress, Mel beckoned with an absent wave behind his back. “Hold on a second!”
Already out the office door, Jesse backed up and poked his head back in as Mel reached inside a desk drawer.
“Technically, you report to me,” Mel said, “so technically, I’m supposed to be the one to give this to you.”
He fluttered a flimsy, letter-sized envelope, which Jesse took. Confused, Jesse gave it a perfunctory look. Through the envelope’s window, Jesse’s name appeared above Eden’s street address.
“What’s this?”
Mel snorted. “Your first paycheck, what else!”
With the recent developments in his life, Jesse had forgotten all about money.
Tired, Jesse walked out of the building and toward his car. But halfway there, he stopped. He grinned at the thought that dawned on him, and then slapped the unsealed envelope against his palm. Jesse jogged the rest of the way to his car.
If he hurried, he could get to a bank before it closed.
* * *
Jesse heard a basketball bounce across the street but didn’t think to look for its source. He had walked all the way up Caitlyn’s driveway when he heard footsteps approach behind him. Before he had a chance to turn around, Drew pounced on him from behind.
“Hey Jesse!” His skinny arms wrapped around Jesse’s shoulders and met on the other side before Drew hopped off. At least the kid appeared excited to see him. And it made Jesse’s whole day worth living. How many of these spontaneous gestures had he missed as his son grew up?
Drew panted rather heavily, Jesse noticed. Hadn’t Drew mentioned he doesn’t play basketball much because it made him tired? And Caitlyn had concerns as well. But then again, Drew’s current panting was, in all likelihood, a side effect from his record-time bolt from the opposite side of the street.
“What’s up, buddy!” Jesse patted the kid on the back. “How many more weeks of school?”
“Two; we’re almost done. That’s my friend Ryan over there.”
Drew pointed toward the house across the street, where another kid bounced a basketball and watched with curiosity. When Jesse waved, the kid responded with a nod and went back to his free throws.
“Are you here to see my mom?” Drew asked.
“Yep.” Jesse knuckled his son on the arm. “Better get back to your game over there, bud. Your friend is waiting.”
“Oh, I forgot! Okay, see ya.”
When they parted ways, Jesse knocked on the front door and Caitlyn let him in. She led him into the kitchen and offered him a beverage, but he declined. She poured him a glass of water anyway. Jesse settled at the table, where Caitlyn took a seat beside him.
“I don’t intend to stay long,” he said. His eyes felt a bit brighter in anticipation of what would occur. From his back pocket, he retrieved the envelope that had housed his paycheck. Now the envelope felt heavier. “I want to give you this.”
Caitlyn took hold of the thick envelope. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Jesse had replaced the contents, wrapped them in a single sheet of paper, and sealed the envelope. When Caitlyn tore it open and unfolded the sheet, she tried to find her voice as she stared. In her hand dwelt a stack of unblemished twenty-dollar bills, seven hundred dollars in total. The bills were so new, a few still stuck together. Jesse could detect the scent of fresh ink.
Speechless, she looked up and found sincerity in Jesse’s eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said.
“It’s my first paycheck,” he replied. “This is something I could have done all along, if I had known about Drew. I should have been there for you.”
In obvious bewilderment, Caitlyn shook her head, her mouth in the shape of an O. Her eyes still fluttered at the sight of the cash. She tried to meet his eyes again but retreated; she appeared on the verge of weeping.
Jesse sensed her loss for words. Though he didn’t want to cause her any discomfort, he reached over and clasped his hands over hers. “Look, I know this doesn’t begin to make up for all the years I didn’t do this. But I hope this is a step in the right direction.” Caitlyn continued to stare at the envelope and run her finger along its edges. So Jesse continued to speak. “From now on, you’ll get a portion of each check. If I hadn’t racked up a good deal of debt in L.A., I’d give you the whole amount each time.” He watched her lip quiver. “But I promise: You won’t need to do this alone anymore.”
She sniffled once. At last she looked back at Jesse. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” He peered deep into her eyes. “If you can say this is a step forward, that’s all I need to know.”
Caitlyn bit her lip. “Yes.” As a full smile emerged, she added, “This is a good thing.”
From her expression, Jesse discerned she’d needed this provision more than he’d realized.
After one more mesmerized glance at the envelope, she scooted out of the chair and walked over to her purse, where she placed the money inside. Grateful she understood the gesture and the heart intention behind it, Jesse folded his hands in his lap, content.
Caitlyn didn’t sit down just yet, as if her knees felt weak or her heart trembled. She wandered over to the refrigerator to retrieve something, or perhaps to stall for time.
When Caitlyn grabbed the refrigerator handle, she uttered a response somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. “Oh, Drew.” She rubbed at one spot, touched her fingertips together. “It’s sticky—probably juice.” Then, in mock disgust, she turned to Jesse and shook her head. “Boys.”
Darting up from the table, Jesse wetted a dishrag and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She wiped the spot and handed the rag back to Jesse. “He’s a sweet guy, though.”
“Just like his dad, huh?” Jesse quipped.
“Don’t push your luck.”
He could see she enjoyed the humor.
Jesse’s mind returned to the paycheck—and to something that hadn’t occurred to him before. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You mean, why didn’t I make Drew clean this? I should have.”
“No, it’s—why did you raise Drew alone? I mean, you could have broken your promise and told Eden you’d had a baby. She could have given you my number.”
He followed her into the living room, where they sat together on the sofa. Through the window, they watched Drew and his friend take free-throw shots across the street.
“Even after Drew was born, I had a choice,” Caitlyn said. “I could have given him up for adoption. But deep down, a part of me wanted to keep him. I backtracked; that was my decision, not yours.” She ran her hand through her hair, then rested her cheek against her palm. “I didn’t search for you because—well, I didn’t want to force anything on you that you didn’t want to be a part of. But I’ll admit, I questioned whether I had done the right thing by not telling you.” She massaged her wrist as small creases of contemplation formed along her brow. “Meanwhile, life rolls on. Before you know it, you’re going on thirty years old and you’re just used to it. So you stop questioning; you just … live.”
She fascinated him. Between the two of them, Jesse knew she was the stronger individual.
He fidgeted with the band of his wristwatch. Though difficult to hear, how fresh her honesty poured forth.
“Don’t worry about the past,” she said. “We’re alive and well. And if you decide to up and leave tomorrow, we’ll still get along just as well.” Caitlyn halted her speech, her smile apologetic. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Do I make you nervous?”
“A little.” She tugged at her lower lip. “Look, you may have changed, and I believe you can.”
“But you’re not betting your life on it.”
She leaned in. “Can you blame me?”
Jesse laid his hand on hers. He looked straight into her eyes. “I’ll prove it to you.”
She shrugged. “It’ll take time.”
&nb
sp; Jesse nodded. “How much?”
“Please stop.” She sighed, then clasped Jesse’s hands together. “You were gone eleven years. It’ll take a while to rebuild what you left behind—or build it to begin with. I mean, Drew, me, parenthood—this isn’t a Hollywood job you come to, work for a few days, and then move on to another project and the rest of your life. This is a commitment—a long-term commitment.”
“I can do that.”
“I know you can.” Compassion kindled in her eyes. “Now you need to follow through … over time.”
CHAPTER 37
The whir of the vacuum echoed in the empty church lobby as Jesse swept the floors the next morning. When Chuck walked up the hall and poked his head down each corridor along the way, Jesse shut down the vacuum.
“Have you seen Mel?” Chuck asked.
“It’s Wednesday. He works afternoon and evening.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Chuck started back down the hall before he stopped in his tracks and spun around again. “Hey, are you busy right now?”
“Sweeping the floor.”
“That can wait. Anything ASAP?”
“No.”
“Let’s grab a late breakfast. Want to?”
* * *
After more than fifty years in business, the mom-and-pop restaurant occupied the same stand-alone building, on Route 91 near the heart of Hudson. Around nine thirty on this weekday morning, a handful of patrons sat scattered among the booths: retirees, businesspeople and those who enjoyed a random vacation day. Behind Jesse and Chuck, a real-estate agent met with clients who prepared to relocate to the area—from Minneapolis, based on what Jesse couldn’t help but overhear from the cackling, over-eager agent.
Yes, life seemed to roll along. But Jesse recognized it as a mirage, for his toughest hurdle would come when he told Chuck about Drew. But not today.
“This place hasn’t changed at all,” Jesse pointed out as he examined the dark-stained woodwork and aging light fixtures. Even in the middle of the day, the place seemed too dim. When Jesse was younger, Chuck had taken him here often, particularly after a season in which they had spent insufficient quality time together.
A silver-haired waitress approached their table—apparently en route to retirement—to take their order. “Preacher Chuck, my favorite bachelor!”
“Winnie,” he replied.
With a wink, Winnie removed a pen and order pad from her apron. When she eyed the younger half of the pair, she stepped back. “I don’t believe it: Jesse Barlow, is that you?”
Geez, now Jesse remembered her. She’d waited on them since he was a kid, back in the days when she died her hair an unfortunate shade of strawberry blond.
She asked Jesse questions about life on the west coast and why on earth he’d depart the beautiful ocean for this region’s winters on ice. They bantered back and forth until Jesse’s belly erupted with a loud groan. Winnie collected their orders—an omelet for Jesse, corned-beef hash and eggs with a side of bacon for Chuck—poured two cups of coffee, and disappeared toward the kitchen. Jesse stirred cream and half a sugar packet into his cup.
Chuck seemed surprised. “You always got pancakes—wouldn’t touch an omelet to save your life! What happened?”
“Jada got me hooked on them,” Jesse replied. “But she ordered hers with cholesterol-free eggs and filled with spinach and tomato. A health nut.”
Chuck sipped his coffee. Jesse watched his father savor the scalding liquid as it trickled down his throat. Chuck said, “I don’t think I ever talked to her on the phone. What’s she like?”
Jesse shrugged. “L.A. girl. Pretty much fits the stereotype everyone imagines.”
An awkward pause, with Jesse all too ready to forget Jada. His father must have noticed Jesse didn’t want to delve deeper.
Chuck looked at his son like he wished he knew what to say, something that would allow him to connect with Jesse. A familiar expression, Jesse recognized it as the ache of a minister on behalf of a loved one. Strange how two people, despite shared flesh and blood, can become strangers, victims of time and distance.
“How long have you two been together?” Chuck asked, his eyes glued to Jesse’s.
“Were together,” Jesse corrected. “About ten years—friends first, though.”
“All those years and I never met her,” Chuck said, closer to an afterthought than an acknowledgment.
“You never came to California.”
“Was I welcome?”
Though Chuck’s tone communicated full sincerity, Jesse took offense.
Jesse traced the rim of the coffee cup with his finger. “Can we change the subject, please?”
Regret settled into Chuck’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
Another uncomfortable pause. From the booth behind them, the real-estate agent—the cackler—excused herself and headed to the restroom. As soon as she walked out of earshot, Jesse heard the married couple conspire to find a different relocation expert once they returned home.
Winnie returned with their breakfasts. Chuck prayed over the meal, and they started to eat. From across the table, Jesse picked up the scent of over-medium eggs and warm, greasy bacon fresh from the grill—two reasons he regretted letting Jada goad him into a healthier diet.
Jesse speared a fried redskin potato, the restaurant’s answer to hash browns, as he soaked in the ambience some more. “Seems strange to hang out at this joint again. The guys and I used to skip classes in high school and come here.”
A knowing glint in his eye, Chuck grinned. “You guys skipped classes in middle school and came here, too!”
Jesse exchanged a wider grin. Shocked, he fell back against the booth in disbelief. “How’d you know about that?”
“Are you kidding? I’m your dad—and a minister. I knew more about you back then than you realized.” He crunched on a bite of bacon. “Besides, you’re forgetting that day in seventh grade when I drove right past this place and saw you guys out front, trying to figure out how to hold a cigarette.”
Jesse fought to swallow his mouthful of coffee before he burst out with a laugh. “Oh, that’s right! Sanders finagled those cigarettes up at the gas station—the poor guy had a five o’clock shadow in seventh grade and the cashier never questioned his age.” Jesse’s eyes widened as he relived the long-gone memory. Then he gestured at his father with his fork. “You were so mad, you stopped the car, rounded us up, and took us back to school—even recommended a detention for us, as I recall.”
“Let the punishment fit the crime, I figured,” Chuck replied through a guffaw.
Jesse shook his head in wonder. “I gave you my share of headaches growing up, huh?”
“You were a strong-willed kid,” Chuck agreed. “It proved a challenge at times, but I never wanted you to lose that quality. Thanked God for it.” He paused, then delved into his hash. “That strong will of yours will save someone’s life one day. I believe that; I’ve always sensed it about you.”
Rapt, Jesse now absorbed his father’s every word, though Chuck himself didn’t notice. Jesse wondered if his own spirit of determination were a genetic quality, one which would manifest in Drew as the child grew older.
“Anyway,” Chuck continued, “it came as no surprise you were as … vibrant as you were. Your mom was much the same. A pistol.”
“Are you sure I take after Mom? You like to have your share of fun too.”
“Not nearly like she did. After we first married, we got into countless arguments because I was so nervous and she was so spontaneous. She loved life, your mom. She taught me to kick it up a notch. Said I should buy a motorcycle.” He toasted Jesse with his coffee cup. “So I did—a few years after she died.”
Jesse examined his father’s eyes—eyes that communicated a loss, minus the helpless sorrow. “Do you miss her?”
Chuck blinked in slow motion. “Every day. She was my other half.” He took another look at his son’s intent expression. “Are you doing all right? I mea
n, is life okay, in general?”
“Sure.” Jesse brushed off the question. He couldn’t mention Drew and the near-abortion after all this time—he’d feel too ashamed at what his father might say, too fearful of the disappointment he pictured in his father’s eyes. Jesse told himself he shouldn’t care about Chuck’s opinion, but he did care.
Jesse felt inadequate in his father’s presence. The issue didn’t reside in what Chuck did, but rather, in who he was. A frustrating quality, Jesse couldn’t put his finger on it. Throughout Jesse’s existence, Chuck had lived a clean life. Yet the man didn’t exude self-righteousness; he didn’t lord a religious aloofness over anyone, or even criticize Jesse. Maybe that was it. Deep down, did Jesse want his dad to say something to him? At this point in his life, Jesse possessed a profound regret for his own mistakes but couldn’t find a sufficient way to repay the losses. Maybe Jesse wanted someone to scream at him, to provide a method of penance.
Winnie returned with the check and a coffee refill.
Jesse took another bite of his omelet.
CHAPTER 38
When Jesse returned to the church building before noon, he focused his efforts on the front lobby and its surrounding hallways, in preparation for that evening’s midweek worship service. He buffed the floors with the giant machine—the one with the spinning round brush—he’d seen over the years but had never handled.
Once he finished in the lobby, he stopped the machine. Then he glanced over at the doors which led to the worship auditorium.
He still hadn’t attended a worship service since his return home. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even stepped back inside the auditorium itself. Mel had cleaned it thus far. Jesse wandered over to a pair of walnut-colored doors and stepped through.
The room was pitch black except along the sides, where a series of elongated windows accented the walls. Daylight seeped through crevices in the closed blinds. Jesse could trace the vague figure of his hand in front of his face but couldn’t quite see his fingers when he wiggled them. Along the back wall, he felt his way in search of the lighting panel. At last, he located it and bathed the room in a warm sepia glow. But as he scrutinized the room, one quality struck him: how cold and lifeless it seemed without people assembled inside. As Chuck had said, the church isn’t a building but, rather, a group of people.
