The gun lay there in the glare of the headlights. The police began to walk toward it gingerly, as if it were a meteor that had just fallen to earth. “It’s a gun,” someone yelled, and the people gathered outside gradually began to realize that the siege was over.
Donna Wallace was the first to act. Ignoring the warnings of her husband and the police, she bolted past the yellow sawhorses that formed a barricade. She dashed across the spotlit lawn toward the little brick building, her uncombed hair flying, her disheveled clothes flapping around her. She ran wildly, her lungs bursting. Maddy met her in the doorway, holding Justin in her arms.
Chapter Forty-seven
Amy pressed her nose against the oblong window and looked out in wonderment at the endless sky. She held up her doll, Loulou, to the window and pointed out the shapes of elephants in the clouds below. A stewardess stopped her rolling cart by their seats, offering them a drink and some peanuts.
“Do you want some juice, honey?” Maddy asked.
Amy tore her gaze away from the view. “Yes, please,” she caroled.
“Apple juice,” said Maddy. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Maddy lowered Amy’s tray,and the child accepted the cup of juice with both hands and began to slurp. Then she turned her attention back to the clouds.
Maddy looked at her daughter with tenderness. She was often fearful, wondering what scars the experiences of the year last might have left on her. But Amy had that fascination with the day-to-day that was the joy great and balm of childhood, and Maddy had hopes, only hopes, that she had survived without too much psychic damage.
The great elation of their release from Bonnie’s captivity had immediately been tempered by the news of Doug’s fall. Between his shocking death and her surgery for the bullet wound, Maddy could scarcely remember the days that followed. She remembered that certain people had been kind to her—Charles Henson, and Ruth Crandall, and most of all, of course, Nick. Still, it was a blur of the worst days of her life. The newspapers had taken a lurid delight in detailing Doug’s sins, implying that his death had been an effort to escape punishment. The nice young couple who had seen it happen made a special trip by the house to tell her it wasn’t so. He didn’t jump. They thought it would help for her to know that, and it had. A little bit.
The stewardess stopped by again and picked up the cup. “You’ll have to put up your tray now,” she said kindly to Amy. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”
Maddy showed Amy how to lock the tray in place. They began their descent through the clouds.
“We won’t get lost when the clouds wrap all around us, will we?” Amy asked.
“No.” Maddy smiled and rubbed the back of her pudgy hand.
“Mommy, my ears hurt,” Amy complained.
“I’ve got just the thing,” said Maddy. She picked up her purse off the floor and rummaged around in it. She pulled out a stick of gum, unwrapped it, and handed it to Amy. “Here you go. Chew this and it will help your ears not to hurt.”
Amy looked at her in amazement, wondering why her mother would ever think such a silly thing, but she liked gum and was perfectly content to chew it.
Maddy went to zip up her purse and saw the open envelope sticking up, the Canadian stamp in the corner. She pulled it out and removed the letter. She unfolded it and read it again. She had read it so many times, pondered it so often, she practically knew it by heart.
“Dear Maddy,” it began. “It was good to talk to you the other night. My eyes were weary from looking at slides when you called. Teaching these art history courses makes me realize how much I have forgotten since I was in school. Fortunately the department head is patient and seems to want to keep me around.
“Good news about the Henson baby. I’m sure Charles must have been extremely worried about his wife giving birth, even with all the wonders of modern medicine. He must be breathing a sigh of relief, not to mention being deliriously happy, now that Katherine is safely here. I know what a help Charles has been to you in this last year. He seems like a good man to me, and I am really happy for both of them.
“I received another letter from Bonnie today. She is very depressed, of course, trying to come to grips with the reality of facing a lifetime in prison. That she deserves to be there doesn’t seem to register. I’ll answer her letter. I hope that doesn’t make you angry with me. After all that has happened, I feel as if I have to. I’m only grateful that she pled out her case and spared everybody the agony of a trial. There was no chance she would get off, anyway. She told me that she got a letter from Terry the other day. Now he is writing to her in prison. Life is strange, isn’t it?
“I have been thinking a lot about what you said on the phone. I want to make something very clear. I did not leave the priesthood because I expected you to marry me. I left because I knew that I couldn’t keep my vows. I left because I didn’t have any other choice. I don’t know how to make you believe that. I know your trust in men and marriage has taken a pounding.
“I’ve tried to have optimism enough for both of us. But I also don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I am no plaster saint. I’m in love with you. You know that. I told you so that night, in that most romantic of settings, a highway rest stop. That night, as I saw you crouching there with the children, all of us in fear for our lives, I promised myself that if the good Lord got us out alive, I would tell you how I felt, and damn the consequences.
“Just for the record, I’ll say it again. I love you, Maddy. I want to marry you. I want you and me and Amy to be a family and for us to have more kids. I guess I’ve never made any secret of it since that terrible night.
“You, on the other hand, have not made any such pronouncements. While this is not an ultimatum, there are some things I need to know. Enclosed are two tickets to Montreal for next Friday afternoon. I want you and Amy to come up here, to see my little house in the woods (desperate for a woman’s touch) and the university where I teach, and try on my world for size. I know you are afraid, but every love requires a leap of faith.
“You don’t have to call me back. I will be at the airport to meet the plane, heart in hand. If you’re not on it, I’ll suffer. I’m willing to have my hopes dashed, to be publicly humiliated. I can see it in my mind’s eye—a grown man trying to climb over a chain-link fence, screaming, ‘Let me look on the plane myself. They’ve got to be there.’ “
Maddy smiled again when she read his words.
“Please be there. Love, Nick.”
She put her head back against the seat and sighed. She didn’t blame him for wanting her to choose. His love, once he admitted to it, was ardent. She had never expected it, never suspected it. He had protected her fiercely this last year. From the very first, he had wanted her to leave Taylorsville and come with him, but she couldn’t contemplate such a thing a year ago. When he left the priesthood she had warned him, angrily, not to do it on her behalf, that she could make no promises.
Maddy looked over at Amy as the engines roared and the plane bounced along the runway. The child was filled with delight at the bumps of the landing.
“Please remain seated until we come to a full stop,” said the voice on the PA system as people immediately stood up and began to seize their luggage.
“This is us,” said Maddy.
“Will Nick be here to get us?”
“Oh yes,” Maddy said. She was certain of it, although she would never recover from the deceptions that Doug had put her through. She looked at Amy and wondered if she would ever tell her the truth about her father. She had tried not to let her bitterness taint the grieving process. Together they had mourned Doug’s death, and Maddy thought perhaps she would just leave it at that. Someday, if she asked about her father…Well, who knows, Maddy thought. She may not even remember him. He will just be a shadowy figure, somewhere in her unconscious. He had never hurt Amy in any way. When she began to feel bitter she reminded herself of that.
She leaned over and unbuckled Amy’s belt. “Don
’t forget Loulou,” said Maddy.
Amy clutched the doll to her chest. “We’re going to the woods,” she told the doll seriously. “And have campfires.”
They stood up and shuffled down the aisle of the plane. Amy gave the stewardess a big good-bye as they reached the door. The stewardess returned the farewell enthusiastically. Maddy could feel her heart pounding as they walked through the tunnel to the gate. People were spilling out of the door around them, into the arms of waiting loved ones. She scanned the lounge, looking for him, and for a moment she was afraid. Little by little she had admitted to herself that she loved him. But how would she feel, here in his world, admitting it to him?
And then she saw him. He was coming toward them, and the worried look in his eyes was turning to joy at the sight of them. He was handsome and brave, and he loved her. She felt her doubts rise up into the air, like bubbles, and drift away. Amy darted away from her and ran into his arms. He lifted her up with a laugh. Mine, thought Maddy, watching them. She felt herself floating toward them, joining them. They were falling together, though they were standing still.
“I knew you’d come,” he lied.
She knew it was a lie. No amount of faith could guarantee that a lover would love you back. But there were lies you had to tell yourself, to keep going. I know they will come. I know we will be together. I’m sure we will live happily ever after. It wasn’t really a lie. It was hope.
“I love you,” she whispered.
She felt him shudder and tighten his arms around her. “Say it again,” he said.
And she did.
Lost Innocents Page 29
