Amber Morn (32 page)

EIGHTY-FIVE

T.J. Wicksell lowered his aching body carefully into the plastic chair behind the Plexiglas, trying not to wince. His right arm felt heavy in the cast. His cracked ribs had hurt most of all. Even after a month they were still sore.

The visiting area smelled of dust and sweat and hopelessness. Like always.

He peered at his mom on the other side and tried to smile.

She looked ten years older. Used to be so pretty. Now just looked worn out. She placed her palm against the glass, and he did the same. His hand was way bigger than hers.

They picked up their phones.

“Hi, Mom.”

Suddenly nothing else would come; the words all gummed together way deep inside him.

“Hi. It’s so good to see you.” She started to cry.

No, don’t.

T.J. pushed the emotions down.
Feel those, man, and you die
.

He waited until her breathing evened out. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s a long drive.”

She shrugged. “I made it in three and a half hours.”

It would be a long day for her, driving all the way down, then back. To an empty house.

But at least she could leave. At least she was free. He had to go back to a prison cell.

Last time, his dad and Mitch and Brad had come with her to see him.

It was so hard, believing the three of them were gone. Day in, day out, his life hadn’t changed. Even during this visit he could tell himself they were all just busy. Mitch was high, and Brad was out chasing women, and Dad was selling parts for somebody’s old pickup. They’d come next time.

If he really thought about it, if he let himself picture his mother
all alone
day after day in their house — because of him — he’d curl up and die.

He fingered the plastic receiver in his hand. “I saw you on TV.”

“Which time?”

“When you were talking about the guy who said he was the one running away from Marya’s apartment. The guy whose girlfriend called the police.”

His mother closed her eyes, a sick expression on her face. “I was so sure he was the one.
Finally
, I thought. After… it was the one bit of hope I could hold on to.”

Guilt bubbled up in him. How’d the lid come off? He rattled around inside himself, trying to clamp it back on.

“It was so unfair.” His mom drew in the sides of her mouth. “Why would somebody tease about something like that? Why would somebody just
make it up
?”

The lid still wasn’t working too good. T.J. shifted in his chair. If only the running guy could be for real. He lifted a shoulder. “Doubt he expected his girlfriend to call the police.”

His mom stared at her lap for a long time. Her shoulders looked so thin. T.J. found a black mark on the wall below the Plexiglas to stare at.

“Well, I’m still looking.” Her voice took on an edge. She leaned forward until he raised his eyes. Her jaw flexed. “I’ll look forever, T.J. The real killer’s out there somewhere. Knowing he did what you’re being punished for. I was on TV again — after the police questioned the man who teased his girlfriend about being there — and his alibi checked out. Did you see me that time? Had a whole hour session with a reporter. He got to ask me anything he wanted, long as I could tell everybody there
is
a
real
running man out there somewhere, and I’m going to find him.” Her eyes teared. “It’s all I got now, T.J. — proving your innocence.”

Her chin quivered. She covered her eyes with one hand.

T.J. pulled himself in, like trying to fit in the little crawl space under their front porch when he was a kid. He tucked his shoulders and tightened his thighs. Pictured his insides drawing up like a cocoon around his heart. That’s how you lived with yourself in prison. That’s how you survived.

Especially when your lies cost three members of your family.

His throat felt raw. “I never meant to hurt you, Mom.”

Even though Marya deserved it, saying no to me. Pushing me away.

His mother dropped her hand. “
You
never hurt me. The system did. The man who killed Marya did. It’s not your fault, T.J. You’re the one thing that keeps me going.”

Guilt bubbled out of the pain again, and he scrambled to crash down the lid. Had to push on it — hard. He nailed it in place on four sides.

“You’re the one thing that keeps me going.”
His mom needed that. He could never, ever take it away from her.

T.J. lifted his casted arm and spread his palm against the glass. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll always be here for you. I won’t ever let you down.”

His mom gave him a sad smile. She matched his handprint with her own and pressed until her fingers turned white.

EIGHTY-SIX

The morning sun shone on Bailey’s face as she and John walked hand in hand toward the new and freshly painted red door of Java Joint. Before they’d left home, Bailey had the presence of mind to stuff her purse with tissues. She needed one already, just looking at her café.

“You know, I like this new door better.” John smiled as he pulled out the key. “Nice bright color.”

“Me too.”

In the past four weeks, Bailey had wept again and again at the outpouring of love her friends and neighbors displayed. The owner of the building repaired the windows and door amazingly fast. Donations of money and volunteered time ensured that she and John wouldn’t have to pay a penny of their business insurance deductible to replace their own property. In fact, she’d had enough extra money to outfit Java Joint with the latest in espresso machines and equipment, not to mention fancier stools.

The stores on the opposite side of Main were also being cleaned up in a hurry. Townsfolk simply couldn’t bear to see the damage day after day. Simple Pleasures looked beautiful once more, inside and out. Even with her recovering left arm, Sarah had managed to create new displays, mostly giving orders while her husband and Paige and a few other friends did the work.

Bailey and John stepped into the café. She gazed at the round tables and chairs all in place, the new Formica countertop, this one a light blue. The room just sparkled, as if it couldn’t wait to host the celebration they’d waited four weeks to complete.

Now it would be more of a celebration than ever.

Java Joint would not officially open for two more days. Bailey and John wanted this special party to be private, with a few extra invited guests. The rest of the Scenes and Beans gang had agreed.

After taking a vote, they’d also agreed to no longer post on the blog. After all that had happened, their hearts just weren’t in it. Bailey deleted all of the interchange between Kent and Vince, then she wrote a final post, explaining the decision to their readers. For now Scenes and Beans would remain up, with all its previous posts. She didn’t know just yet when she would take it down.

John shut the door and pocketed the key. He looked around, admiring all the handiwork. Nodding his head. Bailey squeezed his arm.

She checked the wall clock — one of her possessions that had survived the conflict without a scratch. Eight forty-five. In fifteen minutes everyone would be gathering.

Bailey walked around the counter to start her preparations. John followed, stooping down to check that the wrapped box still lay on its shelf. S-Man’s new pen, recovered from Main Street, had managed to find its way back into John’s hands. He’d saved it for this day.

John straightened. “Amazing that he’ll get to sign those contracts with this after all.”

“Can’t wait to see him do it.”

The publisher of
Starfire
had sent new copies of the contract after hearing the first batch had been scattered by bullets. S-Man could have signed them days ago but asked if the publisher wouldn’t mind waiting until this morning. No problem, came the reply. Plans for Book One were forging ahead in the meantime. In fact, the publisher was even more excited.
Star-fire
had received national attention through news accounts of the attack on Java Joint. The publisher now believed it would sell more copies than ever. An “early buzz,” they called it.

At nine o’clock the gang started arriving. By nine fifteen Java Joint flowed with voices, laughter, some tears — and coffee. All the Scenes and Beans bloggers were there except Angie, who was recuperating after surgery. Bailey knew David had hardly left her side since the triple bypass — in the hospital and once she got home. “He’s a great nurse,” Angie told her over the phone. “I’ve decided he’ll make a great husband too.”

Bailey had slapped a hand to her heart. She
knew
it!

Carla brought Scott Cambry to the party — Brittany’s biological father, who was visiting from his home in Washington. Even as Bailey foamed their drinks — Carla’s usual latte and a caramel mocha for Scott — she watched them from the corner of her eye. There was another couple she sensed was headed in the right direction.

After all these years, wouldn’t that be something, God. The surprises you come up with.

Vince and Nancy Edwards had been invited, as well as Roger and Camille Waitman. Jim and Al were on duty. Frank was recovering from his bullet wounds and surgery. He was out of the hospital and now expected to heal completely, but it would be a long process. Like David with Angie, Paige had spent a lot of time at Frank’s bedside.

“How are you, Vince?” Bailey asked as she poured him coffee in a biggie cup. Nancy was across the room, talking to Pastor Hank and Janet. Vince’s regular drink was the same as Wilbur’s — black, no sugar. Bailey looked deep into his eyes, signaling she wanted an honest answer.

Surprise flicked across Vince’s face. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you don’t fool me. Calm as you look on the outside, I know these things weigh on you as much as anybody.”

He drew a long breath. “Yeah. But that’s okay. Keeps me praying.”

“I understand that. Me too.”

“And how are
you
?”

Bailey pulled her top lip between her teeth. “Better. The nightmares are gone. Like you say, prayer helps. In fact, prayer is
everything
.” Her vision blurred. “We could have lost so many people this time, Vince. We came so close. But we didn’t. Not a
one
.”

His jaw moved back and forth. “I know.” He picked up his drink. “Thank God.”

She swallowed. “Thank God.”

Bailey thought of John’s part in the trauma but said nothing. It had all been said. John had apologized a dozen times for visiting the Wicksell house. He could have gotten someone in Java Joint killed. Nearly did. But he also saved Frank.

Leslie sidled up to Vince, nursing a biggie latte in her right hand and holding out her left, fingers pointed down. “Seen it yet?”

Vince smiled, and his face softened. “No. But I sure heard about it enough. Let me get a gander at this rock.” He grasped her hand, pulling it close to examine the half-carat diamond. “Wow. Bet that’s being paid for out of advance money.”

She grinned. “Yeah, when he finally gets the check. Signing the contracts will
help
.” She flicked a look at the ceiling. “Right now it’s on credit.”

After all the trauma, Leslie had postponed leaving for her new job in Seattle until next week — plenty of time for S-Man to find the right ring. No wedding date yet — but that would be decided soon.

Bev sidled up to the counter next to the third stool, occupied by Jake. “Have time to make my drink now, Bailey?”

That would be a biggie latte. “You bet.”

“See how I beat you here, woman?” Wilbur leaned around Jake to mug at Bev. “Didn’t trust you not to take my new stool.”

Jake hitched his shoulders. “Don’t blame ya.” He’d heard about the stool-stealing escapade. He pulled his ever-present red baseball cap lower over his big ears.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Wilbur.” Bev hefted her chin in disapproval. “You act like some king sitting there. As if all our troubles haven’t taught you there are more important things in life.”

He raised his gray eyebrows with a regal stare. “Who says I
ain’t
king?”

Jake chuckled.

She huffed. “Well, at least you won’t be the only one in here with a scar on your chest. Once Angie feels good enough to come back, hers will be newer than yours.”