After All These Years (38 page)

Tony watched her walk away and bit the inside of his cheek. She wore black boots, a long gray straight skirt, and a black jacket. The red highlights in her hair glinted in the sun.

She looked too small under the huge buildings, too pure and innocent for the likes of Chi-town. Not fragile, though. No, she wasn't fragile. She could move to the big city and fashion a life, making borders out of ideals and integrity. But…she would choose Mexico. Her talents lay in the city, but she would choose the extreme route. Just as his sister had done. And she would walk away from him and not turn back, just as in the image he could not erase. Just as his sister had done.

He may have been falling in adolescent love with her seven years ago, but this was different. He could not remember what life was like before he entered that vet's office in Valley Oaks two months ago. Only two months? A lifetime.

Just now, he had asked her to keep him posted on her job decision. She smiled in that enigmatic way of hers, kissed him on the cheek, and left.

He knew that kiss had meant goodbye.

Tony sat in the back pew of the tiny church, totally absorbed in the service. He had even stopped listening to the translator, hearing the preacher's Spanish and somehow—after all these years—understanding it. The short, mustached, European-looking man stood before the pulpit, no notes, words flowing effortlessly, hands gesturing elegantly.

Tony's vision blurred, creating the sensation of swimming underwater. He stretched one hand to the back of the wooden pew in front of him and clung to it. It was as if the water parted, giving him a clear, tunnel-like view of only the preacher.
What am I doing here?

After Izzy stuck the pamphlet in his pocket the other day, it crinkled whenever he moved. It sat on his kitchen table for twenty-four hours before he decided. He would take her challenge because he didn't seem to have any other option. Through no choice of his own, his life was on hold and he didn't know for what. He would go to the service and meet God and tell Him what he thought. He would set straight once and for all those hapless folks who thought he should celebrate his sister's sacrifice.

The tears started as the little man neared the conclusion of his passionate talk. The preacher spoke of obscene poverty and of unfathomable joy. He told of how people braved threats of guerillas, how Bibles were treasured, how many miles people trudged in order to join with other believers. He spoke of young Americans who loved their enemies…and of how their deaths had softened some of the hardest of hearts.

After the service, the man reached Tony before he was able to uproot himself from the pew. Their eyes met, and he sensed that somehow the preacher knew.

The man grasped his shoulder. “My friend, I am sorry for your loss.”

“How can I forgive the men who killed my sister?”

“You can't. Only Jesus can. Jesus living in you can forgive them. Do you want to forgive them?”

“I can't carry around this…this…”
Name it, Tony. Say it!
“This
hatred
around anymore.”

“Then ask Jesus to live in your heart. He'll set you free from the darkness you walk in now.” He laid a hand lightly on Tony's head, murmured a prayer, and moved away.

The underwater sensation returned. His face was wet. His palm ached from its grip on the pew. His chest felt as if a sumo wrestler sat on it.

I'm sorry, God! I'm sorry!

What had the preacher said? What had Izzy said? What had JoJo said? “Ask Jesus to live in your heart.”

I don't understand any of it!

He could barely breathe.

Just ask.

All right!

“Jesus,” he whispered, “live in my heart? Please?”

The sumo wrestler vanished, leaving a gaping hole in his wake, ripping the breath from Tony's lungs. The ache was unbearable.

And then a warmth began to seep in around the edges, a fluid heat absorbing the pain, consuming the hatred, engulfing the doubts. An implosion of love.

His tears continued long into the night. He had met God all right, but it was most decidedly not on Tony Ward's terms.

“Cal,” Isabel called from his kitchen, “I'm going to do a little housekeeping out here.”

“Go for it.” He sat in his recliner in the living room, hand on the remote, eyes glued to a televised soccer match.

“Chloe,” Isabel called out again, “you okay for a bit?”

Cal glanced at the girl sitting across the end table from him. She sat on the edge of the other, smaller recliner that had been his grandmother's. He couldn't read her expression. She had come over with Isabel that morning, the two of them carrying enough casseroles and loaded grocery bags to keep him going for a week.

“Yes, Isabel,” she called back.

She was a polite little thing, with big blue eyes that always unnerved him because it appeared there was a lot of activity going on behind them, but he couldn't imagine about what. What in the world could nine-year-olds have to think about? He remembered that night he ate dinner at Lia's. Chloe had giggled and even hugged him goodbye. Since then, he hadn't really noticed her much.

Except to realize that she was an awkward obstacle in Lia's life.

No, that wasn't it. Lia was devoted to her well-being and enjoyed her immensely. Her stepmother role came naturally. Even when she talked of not being married because the guy would have to accept Chloe as a daughter, there had been no trace of complaining or self-pity.

He
was the one who found Chloe an awkward obstacle.

What an idiot!

Chloe was nearer to Lia's heart than anything. The way to Lia's heart was nothing less than through her niece.

But she was a kid! She was everything Cal was determined to avoid. He had never been around kids, had no desire to be around them. He remembered being one: he remembered the best times were when he was with his dad. And then his dad died.

What was it Lia had said?
They're just short people, Cal.

He cleared his throat. “Do you like soccer?”

“I like gymnastics.”

“We can probably find some of that.” He picked up the remote and began flipping. “I've got a gazillion sports channels.”

“Isabel doesn't have cable. Do you like cartoons?”

“Can't remember the last time I saw one.”

“Aunt Lia only lets me watch two on Saturdays.”

“Have you watched your two today?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes.”

“Well, you're in my house now. I think I want to watch a cartoon.”

Chloe giggled, slipped off her shoes, pulled up the recliner's foot rest, and settled back.

Lia parked in front of Isabel's house and muttered aloud to herself, “This isn't working.”

Cal lived way too close for comfort.

And he had started an ongoing Chinese checkers tournament with Chloe. He wasn't leaving his house much yet, which meant Chloe went over there, which meant Lia had gone to collect her three times in six days. Not to mention
the night before when he baby-sat while she and Isabel went to Club NEDD.

As long as she didn't have to see him, she was fine. Well, as fine as one could be living with a friend, sleeping in her living room, dispensing drugs from an oversized storeroom, and wondering how much money she was going to lose when all was said and done.

But when she had to see him and look into those green eyes and sense his teddy bear presence, still strong and yet weak from the recent ordeal, then she felt overwhelmed and inundated with conflicting emotions. Anger, sadness, joy, confusion. Floating gossamer tickling…

Well, not tonight. It was Friday. A father-daughter/mother-son date night for fifth graders was being held at the school. And she had to deal with Nelson's visit. Chloe had called and invited him. He was due to arrive in ten minutes.

Lia hurried inside the house and stopped short just inside the door. Across the living room she spotted Cal sitting at the kitchen table, arranging marbles on a playing board.

He looked up and grinned. “Hey, Aunt Lia.” It was his recently acquired mode of addressing her.

“You left your house!” She dropped her coat and bags where she stood. The mail she had picked up at the post office fluttered to the floor.

“Yeah. I even walked to the Center today. Of course I was too exhausted to work out, but I got there. Isabel was called to the station for some emergency, so I came over about five to keep Chloe company while she gets ready for her big date.”

“Cal, she's nine years old. She can stay by herself for an hour.”

He shrugged.

Chloe emerged from the hallway and twirled around the front room, grinning. “What do you think?” The red party
dress and black patent-leather shoes her grandmother had bought sparkled in the lamplight.

Lia clapped. “You're beautiful!” She smiled to herself, noticing the slightly askew barrettes in Chloe's black hair. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Chloe, you'll be the prettiest one there.” Cal stood in the kitchen doorway.

“Do you think so?”

“Definitely.”

“Is my dad here yet?”

Lia hugged her. “Not yet, sweetpea. It's still early.”

Cal said, “Hey, how about some checkers while we wait? You're still beating me. I gotta catch up.”

The two of them laughed and headed into the kitchen. They paid no attention to Lia's sigh.

Forty-five minutes passed. Chloe grew quieter. Lia dropped a pan, an onion, a fork, and cut a finger. She didn't know what would be worse. Dealing with Nelson or dealing with his no-show. She gave up cooking dinner and sat down at the table.

Cal stood and patted Chloe's shoulder. “Well, I better go. I'll beat you tomorrow, though, Chloe. You have a good time tonight. See you, Aunt Lia.” He sauntered through the kitchen and out the back porch.

“Chloe, he probably got hung up in Chicago traffic. You know how that happens.”

She nodded, her eyes on the marbles, her little forehead pinched.

“Do you want a snack?”

She vehemently shook her head and then flew from the table and down the hall.

Lia listened to her sobs until the bedroom door slammed shut. Then she stood and marched to retrieve her handbag from the floor by the front door. She dug out Nelson's cell phone number. If necessary, she would beg him to get here as soon as possible or make it up in some extravagant way. He wasn't going to get away with this. He would not break Chloe's heart and get away with it.

She returned to the kitchen, yanked the phone from the wall, and punched in the numbers. No answer. Not even a voice mail. Oh! She would kill him!

Her thoughts echoed in her head.
Kill him?

What was wrong with her? She sank onto a chair. The world had grown ugly and she with it.
I don't even like myself anymore!

Lord, I'm sorry.

How long since she had prayed? Sincerely prayed and listened for His leading? She was too wrapped up in her troubles. Too determined to take care of business and not feel anything. She knew how to do that. She was an expert at that. It was how she had turned her back on a normal life, adopted Chloe at the age of 21, and bought her own business. Except this time she had even turned her back on Chloe and her heavenly Father.