And Then I Found You (11 page)

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Authors: Patti Callahan Henry

BOOK: And Then I Found You
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“How many of those do you want me to answer?”

“All, but not at once.” Kate took Lida’s hands. “Sit, tell me everything.”

It took the afternoon to catch up on the previous nine years of Lida’s nomadic life,
in which she’d somehow finished high school and was at that moment trying to enroll
in community college, thinking that South Carolina might just be the right place for
such a thing.

Kate hired Lida, helping her find a small garage apartment. Exactly as Kate had put
her hand over her unborn child all those years ago, and somehow connected Lida and
Luna, this seemed a second chance to do at least one thing right. Lida had seemed
a symbol of hope and Kate grabbed onto it as a life raft with a flag of faith.

Months after Lida began working at Mimsy, she’d learned to run the store as well as,
and sometimes better than, Kate. Natural and comfortable in her own skin, her dreadlocks
pulled into a ponytail, her face fresh and consistently smiling, all the customers
loved her. She had a knack for knowing what outfit would work on what woman and they
all grew to trust her, often asking for her on the days she wasn’t there.

While Kate thought about Lida, Jack startled her by returning and holding out his
hand for her to stand. She looked up to him in absolute wonder. Yes, he was real.

*   *   *

Standing outside the restaurant, feeling as if she’d come out of a movie theater in
the middle of the day, Kate put on her sunglasses, shielding the evening sunlight.

“Should we go back to my house or is there somewhere else you wanted to go?” Jack
asked.

“I remembered this time you took me to Vulcan and we had a picnic and…”

Jack smiled. “Yep, he’s still there.” He motioned toward his truck. “Come on. I’ll
drive.”

Birmingham had the largest iron statue in the country and this Roman god, Vulcan,
stared over the city with his bare bottom and a raised fist, proclaiming the power
of steel and its ability to form a city out of the deep iron ore in the red dirt.
The Magic City.

Jack parked and Kate looked up at the iron edifice, remembering the first time he’d
brought her here and how she’d believed that love itself was a god, that it could
conquer anything. But obviously lesser gods had conquered.

With evening fading to night, Kate and Jack sat at a picnic table facing one another.
“So, Katie, tell me why you’re here.”

“I don’t really know how I want to say what I want to say.”

“Just start,” he said.

“It’s so messed up and confusing, so I’m not sure it will come out right. But here’s
the thing. I’ve been dating this guy, Rowan, for four years now and I still … doubt.
And I know this is crazy, but I felt like if I talked to you I could get to the other
side of that doubt. I mean, you found a way to … move on, and I’m hoping I can do
the same. Something is … stopping me.”

“You think I’m stopping you?” He leaned back, as if moving away from her words, from
her.

“No, not you. It’s something in me.” She sighed, digging for the right words. “You
moved on and had a child and made a life. I haven’t been able to do that. I’ve been
running and avoiding and denying, and now I’ve finally met this amazing guy. I found
an engagement ring in his bedside drawer … and I want to commit. I do. But I needed
to see you. I want to ask the terrible questions. I want to understand. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay, but why do you feel like you need to see me after all this time? I don’t
get it.” He took off his sunglasses and those green eyes, the same ones that had been
on their daughter’s sweet face, stared back at Kate.

“When I look back on those days, I see that I was such a mess. I know we made the
decision about Luna together. I know that we talked until we both couldn’t stand it
any longer, but to do what I did I had to shut my heart completely. I slammed it shut.”

“I’m sorry. I am. I don’t know how to go back and change things.”

“I don’t either. I think that’s the point. I want to know—what happened? I’ve gone
from hating you to loving you at least a million times. I want to know. It might help.
I mean, why did you marry Maggie and not wait for me to finish with my job?”

Her words seemed a weight, slumping his shoulders and head forward. “I did wait. I’ve
gone over this in my head, too. What could I have done differently? How could I have
changed things?” He sat straighter as if shaking off the past. “I asked you to come
home. I loved you. I waited. And then I waited some more. You didn’t come home. You
wrote letters about all the fabulous things you were doing and seeing. Then you came
to visit me and promised you’d give your notice, but you didn’t.”

“Lida…” she said.

“And then I waited some more.”

“I know.” Her explanations and reasons and rationales no longer mattered even as they
begged to again be spoken.

“When I finally mattered to you, it was too late. Sometimes, Katie, it’s too late
for something. And by the time you came home pregnant, it was too damn late.”

She nodded.

“So, to answer your question—I didn’t stop loving you. Not once. But I did stop believing.
There
is the difference.”

“I get it,” she said and stood. “God, I’m so stupid. I knew all this. You were always
clear about it. I don’t know why I thought that coming here might help. I shouldn’t
have come. I shouldn’t have…” Kate backed away. “This was a really bad idea.”

He stood also and then took her by the shoulders with both hands. “I’m being honest.”

“I’ve made us both feel all that old terribleness again. I’m sorry.” Tears came before
she felt them rising, salty puddles in the corners of her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m
making everything worse.”

“You know, when I first saw you standing at the game, I thought you might be coming
to tell me you found Luna. Or that you knew something about her. That’s what I was
hoping for.”

Kate dropped her head into her hands. “I should go. I’ve completely screwed this up.”

Why couldn’t she have kept it light? Talked about Bluffton and Birmingham. About old
friends and jobs. Why the hell had she ruined what had been a perfectly nice afternoon?

Jack’s face was obscured from Kate as he spoke. “I have no idea why doing the right
thing can feel so wrong and awful. But that’s what it felt like after we had Luna.
And I don’t want to
ever
feel that way again.” He paused and then stepped into the circle of lamppost light.
“Come on, I’ll take you to your car.” His voice was distant, as if it came from the
past to reach the place they were.

Somewhere in the middle of their conversation, evening had turned to night, and they
drove down the twisting road back to the village where Kate’s car was the only one
remaining in the baseball field parking lot. He finally spoke. “I’m glad you came.
Of course I wonder about you and how you are. But the truth is that as good as it
is to see you, being near you brings up all the awful feelings. I’ve never tried to
forget anything like I’ve tried to forget that time.”

“I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should have let us send yearly letters for the
rest of our lives, but something in me wanted to talk about it, to see you.”

“I understand,” Jack said, staring through the windshield.

Katie pushed her thumbs into the inside corners of her eyes, trying to stay the tears.
She would not cry in front of him. She would not make this any worse than it was.
Visiting Jack was an incredibly stupid idea. The sight of an engagement ring had obviously
made her lose all sense.

She stepped out of the truck and dug into her purse for keys. She wanted to say good-bye,
some kind of parting words that mattered, but she couldn’t find her voice. She shut
the passenger door, turning away to walk to her car, and then she spun around to return.
She opened the passenger door and placed her hands on the truck’s roof, glancing into
the cab. “I came here because I wanted to see you again, to heal whatever could be
healed.” She again shut the door and walked away.

She didn’t look over her shoulder or glance backward as the tears had come and she
wanted to get in her car, safely in her car. Her head dropped onto the steering wheel
and she groaned. She couldn’t reform the past with words and apologies and explanations.

Long minutes passed as Kate sat in her car, waiting for her tears to stop, waiting
for her mind to calm. She finally turned the key in the ignition, tuning the radio
to a country station where Rodney Atkins sang about his son, saying,
“He’s mine, that one.”

Backing out of the parking spot, Kate drove toward the stop sign at the end of the
street before she realized that she didn’t know where she was going. She’d followed
Jack and now she was lost. She hadn’t seen the boutique. She didn’t have a hotel reservation.
She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. She’d made the usual mess of things.

A honk startled her, and she glanced in the rearview mirror. A black truck was on
her bumper and a man was waving at her from the driver’s seat. “I’m going. I’m going,”
she hollered, and then glanced one more time. She twisted her head and looked at Jack
through the back window as he got out of the truck and walked to her car. He had the
grin, that adorable shy grin she’d loved for her whole life. He approached her driver’s-side
window. She rolled down the window, and he leaned down.

“You know where you’re going?”

“A little, yes,” she said and then laughed. “No, not at all.”

He reached into her car and touched her cheek, wiping off a tear. “Katie, I’m sorry.
I’m acting like an ass.”

“I shouldn’t have shown up here like this.” She sighed. “I don’t think things all
the way through … sometimes.”

“No, sometimes you don’t.” He shook his head, but that astonishing grin never left
his face. “Thirteen years ago, I let you leave. Not this time. I don’t really understand
why you’re here or why I’m asking you to stay. But I am.”

Kate smiled at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Just a little while. We can talk and catch up. Caleb is gone all weekend
and it would be nice to spend some time together.”

“Yes,” Kate said. “Really nice.”

March 20th, 1998

Dear Katie,

Happy First Birthday to Luna.

Thank you so much for writing to me. Yearly letters are a great idea: we can’t wish
our daughter a happy birthday, but we can say it to each other. It seems terrible
for us to never talk again, but we’ve also got to move on with our lives, and this
is a nice in-between.

I’ve been wondering where you are and how you are. I admit though that I haven’t tried
very hard to find you. Right away, I will be honest and answer your first question—do
I hate you? Of course not. It was deeply terrible, but we agreed. You asked, in your
letter, for forgiveness, but you don’t have to ask because I gave it to you a long
time ago. I gave it before you asked. And of course I must ask for your forgiveness
also. I know we both did the best we could do, but I also know that I hurt you.

The pain had to go somewhere and for a while I tried to hate you, but I just couldn’t.
Like you, I wonder about Luna and where she is. I hope she’s safe. It’s the not-knowing
that is the hardest. Don’t you agree? All that not-knowing. There is so much of it.

You asked what I’m doing now: I’m a lawyer at my father’s firm in Birmingham, watching
my life turn into something I never thought it would. Soon I’ll probably do something
ridiculous and become an artist living in Bali. (Not really, but does that make me
sound more exciting than I am?)

Maggie is doing great and really loves Birmingham. I thought it would be hard for
her because she’s always lived on acreage (her family farm), but she’s already made
a million friends and she loves the convenience of being so close to downtown.

I hope your family is well.

So, I’ll stop writing now because really I’m terrible at it.

Jack

 

ten

BRONXVILLE, NEW YORK

2010

Bronxville was small. Small enough for almost any kid to walk from the junior high
school to almost any house. That’s what Emily wished she was doing that particular
afternoon. Walking home. Instead she was walking with Chaz, Sissy, Mattie, and Lisa—the
group she had been assigned for her volunteer work. It was also the group designated
The Cool Crowd by the other kids, the ones who stood outside it. The cool crowd was
part of an old familiar ritual of teen deference, the same one their parents performed
and their parents before them. As if some bloodline picked the character and coolness
of any child in Bronxville or anywhere else for that matter.

Lisa and Sissy were the ringleaders and they were as interchangeable as their names.
Blond and slender, they were overly sexy for their age as if they’d watched too many
music videos. Mattie was the quiet one, part of the group because she was Sissy’s
cousin and that made it difficult for Sissy to leave Mattie aside. And then there
was Chaz, who was the cutest boy God had ever made into human flesh. And yet, he defied
any definition of junior high cool. He didn’t play football. He was shorter than the
average boy. He had acne that flared at the worst times. And yet … something about
him drew everyone in. Everyone, including Emily.

Usually this crowd ignored her, and Emily was proud as she was walking with them in
the spring afternoon, discussing their volunteer work for the afternoon: cleaning
out the storage shed at First Presbyterian. They walked toward the church and Chaz
picked up a stone from Mr. Forester’s front yard, throwing it toward the flowerbed.
“Mean old man,” he hollered.

“He’s not mean. Just crazy. Wack-a-doodle,” Emily said in a rush. Words often went
from her mind to her mouth, crossing a bridge that shouldn’t have been built (at least
that’s what her dad told her). Right before she’d left for the afternoon, she’d looked
at her mirror-self and said,
think before you speak
. And there she was doing the exact opposite.

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