A Promise to Remember (37 page)

Candace looked up from her work at the cutting board, studied Melanie's face, and then nodded. "Okay. Why don't you start
from the beginning?"

Melanie spent the next hour telling her everything. Tony's
story. Jake. Andie Phelps' apology. "I'm just so confused by it all.
That forgiveness stuff sounds great, but to tell you the truth,
I'm justifiably angry, and I don't want to start handing out free
passes to the people who have wronged me the most."

"Okay. In your life, who have you felt anger toward for the
longest period of time?"

Melanie didn't even have to think about that one. "My parents. They left me on the doorsteps of the Children's Home
when I was two years old. No note. Nothing."

The knife clacked against the cutting board. Candace leaned
both hands on the counter, took a breath, and then picked the
knife back up. "No child should have to go through that."

"Tell me."

"But does your anger in any way punish them?"

"No. They don't even know about it."

"How about you? Does it hurt you?"

"A little, I guess."

"What about Sarah?"

"Absolutely not. I've made certain that it never would. I've
made it a point that she never ever feels abandoned. I'm always
there for her." The words sounded different when spoken aloud.
"That almost sounds smothering, doesn't it?"

Candace dumped her minced onions into the bowl. "What
would Sarah say?"

"She says I smother. Sometimes."

"So maybe your anger has affected her, huh?"

"Yeah. But this thing is different. That family's son killed
my Jeff. If ever there was an anger that was deserved, that's
the one."

"I'm a mom. You'll get no argument from me." She began to
work the onions into the meat. "Hey, God can understand this
one-His son was murdered. Thing about that was, He allowed it to happen so that He could offer forgiveness to the killers and
people like them. That's incredible."

"Maybe so, but that's God. I'm human, and I'm mad."

"Fair enough. Do you think your anger changes anything for
the better?"

"Yes. I'm hoping that I'll raise public awareness. Maybe save
the life of another kid like Jeff. At least then Jeff would have
some sort of legacy."

Candace began to shape the meat mixture into a loaf. "Why
Would your anger help raise awareness?"

"By suing those parents I'm sending a message to other parents. You know, that they are responsible for their children."

"Didn't their son die, too?"

"Yes."

"Which do you think sends the stronger message: Watch
your children or you might lose some money' or `Watch your
children or you might lose them'? Do you think people are
more motivated by this lawsuit, or the pictures of two teenage
boys who were alive and healthy one day, and gone forever the
next? Don't you think most parents would be more moved by
the second?"

Nothing made sense anymore. Where was the truth? "I want
Jeff to have a legacy. It's important to me."

"Judging from what you told me about the memorial, sounds
to me like he's already got one."

Blair reached up to his visor, pushed the button, and held his
breath. Why had he volunteered to go get food when it would
give her another chance to run? What a fool he was. The garage
door seemed to take forever as it inched higher, taunting him
with his stupidity. Finally, it lifted high enough to reveal her car,
parked in its usual spot. Whew.

Once inside, he found that Andie had set the table and
changed into a shirt without paint smeared on it. He looked at
her, the plates she'd set, then tilted his head toward the living
room. "Why don't we eat it straight from the boxes? On the
couch. In front of the television."

Andie's face lit with surprise. This had been one of her favorite
habits early in their marriage. Why had she stopped? Flashes of
memory told the reason-him. All those years of "Not on the
new sofa" and "You'll ruin the carpet" and "Let's eat like civilized
people." When he thought back now, pictured the scenes, he
could see the light dulling in her eyes as he said the words. At
the time he'd been so convinced he was right, he didn't take
time to notice.

"Are you sure?" Her shoulders stiffened as though she sensed
a trap being set.

"Yeah. It will be fun."

She nodded. "Sure."

They walked into the living room, and Blair unloaded the
boxes onto the coffee table. Andie brought two glasses of Diet
Coke and set them on coasters at each end of the sofa. Blair sat,
and so did Andie, taking the farthest possible spot from him.
Common sense told him it was so she could keep her drink on
the end table while she was eating. Inside, his gut screamed at
him that his own wife didn't want to be anywhere near him.

He pointed at the DVD he'd rented. "I couldn't find much
that looked interesting. I got an old western. My Darling Clementine. Have you seen that one?"

"I don't think so. Black and white?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Those are always best."

Blair inserted the movie, and they ate and watched without speaking as Henry Fonda, playing Wyatt Earp, avenged
his brother's death. Strange how silence could suddenly feel awkward with your wife of almost twenty years, yet it did. He
wanted to say something ... no, not just something, the right
thing. Words failed him. He could think of nothing.

Instead, he looked around the living room, wondering what
Andie would say if she knew they might lose the house-the tile
floors she loved, the primrose border she'd painted around the
ceiling, the rooms where they had lived with Chad. She would
hate him if he lost all this-if she didn't already.

When the movie ended, Andie picked up the drink glasses
and carried them to the sink. Blair tossed the containers into the
bag he'd brought them home in, then walked into the kitchen.
Andie turned toward him when he entered. "Don't you need to
go back to the clinic? I'm afraid my little tirade made you leave
before you were ready."

He shook his head. "Kathleen worked it out so that I can
come in for counseling sessions on an outpatient basis for the
next two weeks. After that, I'll need to attend a meeting every
night for the foreseeable future. I needed to get out of there-to
make things right with you." And to save my company.

"Blair, if we're going to try to work through all this, we can't
have secrets between us."

No way could she know anything. Unless ... had Mike Daniels
called here this week? Surely he wouldn't have said anything.
Better to play dumb and see what she knew. "Andie, I swear, I
have never cheated on you."

"Not that." She paused. "There's something I think I need to
tell you." She glanced at him then.

What a relief. It wasn't his secret; it was hers. From the look
on her face, she was expecting a bad reaction to what she was
about to say. He had to make certain not to give it to her. He
dropped the bag in the trash. "Tell me."

"I apologized."

"Apologized?"

"To Melanie Johnston." The words were barely a whisper.
She leaned against the kitchen counter.

His resolve to remain calm ripped apart like paper in a shredder. "You did what? What did you need to apologize for?"

"Because I am sorry I wanted to call her or send a card right
after the accident, but everyone kept telling me I couldn't because we'd be sued. That happened anyway, now, didn't it?"

Emotional women and common sense. Did the two never
meet in the middle? "What are you sorry for? You didn't do
anything."

"Chad was my son. I left him at home alone, with a set of car
keys in the house. I knew he was upset. I should have stayed
home and worked it out."

"Andie." Blair stepped forward, but Andie pressed tighter
to the counter. He stopped. "That wasn't your fault-it was
mine."

"Right."

"I'm the one who wouldn't let him go on the trip. I'm the one
who fought with him, then left the house without trying to work
things out. It was me. Me. Get it?"

"If I'd been a better mother, I would have found a tutor before
he got the bad grade, which would have prevented the whole
fight in the first place. You know it, too. I see it in your eyes.
You've hardly looked at me since Chad died, and when you do,
I see the accusations there."

You don't see accusations. You see guilt. Think about it,
Andie. What did they find at Cachuma? The envelope I made
for Chad, trying to encourage his Ivy League future. Trying to
force it down his throat is more like it. I'm the one who always
insisted that he strive for perfection. You're the one who always
loved him for what he was. That's why he told you that you were
the greatest person he'd ever known before he died. What did
he say to me? `I was going to get it back.' Like he wanted to let me know he was going to get his grades back up. What kind
of final words are those? Not the ones you'd say to a decent
father-I'll tell you that."

"So all these months, I've been hating myself, thinking you
did, too, and you've been blaming yourself, thinking I hated you?"
She watched him nod, and her expression softened. "Guess that
shows we're not the greatest communicators, huh?"

Blair fought the next question, but he needed to know the
answer more than he feared what it might be. "What did she
say? Melanie Johnston."

"Nothing. She jumped up and ran away." She walked over
to the counter and handed him the yellow piece of paper. "She
dropped this. Funny, it never occurred to me they would be
involved in church and mission trips."

There was a lot they didn't know. Including how much damage
Andie had just done. Keep your mouth shut. Don't lose it now.

She turned away to load some glasses in the dishwasher.
"I know our lawyers are going to have a fit, tell me it was the
wrong thing to do. But I've done a lot of thinking and praying,
and I'm going to stop listening to people constantly telling me
what I should and shouldn't do. I have to follow my heart, and
God's leading-a leading I've mostly missed for the last ten
years. No more. I'm not going to get talked into committees I
have no business on. I'm going to do the things God has called
me to do."

"Like what?"

"Like the Fair for the Cure, my work in the soup kitchen.
Painting." She looked toward him, waiting for a reaction. He
gave none. She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch. "And trying
to work things out with you."

Blair reached out and touched the softness of her cheek. "I
like that last one."

She moved back just enough to break the touch. He knew
better than to push the issue. She would need some time. So
would he.

He thought back to early in their marriage. Andie was right.
In the beginning they had been so tuned in to God and His
will for them, but somehow it had slowly changed into working harder and staying on top. They needed to get back to the
beginning, and they could. Together, with God, and maybe a
really great counselor.

But there was another issue, one that Andie didn't know
about yet. "Andie." He looked into her eyes, knowing that what
he was about to say might destroy the thread of trust that held
them together. "I have something to tell you, too." He took a step
backward. "It's about work. I didn't want to worry you with it. I
thought I could take care of it. But I've made a huge mistake,
Andie. And it could cost us everything."

Melanie pulled into the mostly empty parking lot behind Les's
office. She knew it was a lot to ask, but she was a working
woman. It was the weekends or nothing.

Well, okay. She also liked seeing the man dance a little for
her. She remembered his response when she'd called last night.
"Important meeting? Tomorrow? Melanie, it's Easter. I've got
plans for brunch." He'd said it like he was joking, but she knew
there was some truth in his irritation.

"Let's meet at seven, then. You'll still have plenty of time."