Angels Walking (23 page)

“Yes.” Tyler sounded hesitant. “From the garden.”

Harrison felt the shock rattle from his chest to his bones. Virginia Hutcheson thought Tyler was her son, Ben! He took a step back and leaned against the wall, breathing harder than before. His mind raced back to the warning he’d penned to Virginia’s daughter. The woman had been going downhill like an errant loose tire. But lately her situation had done a complete turnaround.

Cheryl had credited God with the miracle.

Harrison glanced into the room again. Was this the miracle? God was using Tyler to lift the woman’s spirits? Clearly this wasn’t the young man’s first visit with Virginia. They seemed to have established a beautiful rapport. But why would Tyler play along with this? Suspicious thoughts rushed at Harrison. What if Tyler was trying to get money from the woman? Trying to talk her into helping him some way? He focused on the conversation.

“I was thinking about last Christmas.” Virginia’s voice was dreamy. “You were just fifteen. You wanted that pellet gun in the worst way.”

Tyler smiled. “Yes, ma’am. A boy loves a pellet gun.”

“Especially you.” She laughed lightly. “But your father knew you needed a new bed.” A hint of frustration colored her tone. “We didn’t have enough money for both.” Her smile became wistful. “You handled it so well.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, you did. I can see you sitting there now. Next to the tree. You opened that box with the note from me and your father.
You realized you were getting a bed instead of a pellet gun and you gushed like you’d opened the prettiest pellet gun in all of Florida.”

“You and Dad always knew best.” Tyler’s tone was sincere.

“Thank you, Ben.”

Harrison moved again so he could see his employee, see the smile in the young man’s eyes and how it reflected the one on Virginia’s face. What was this? Nothing about Tyler’s tone or mannerisms seemed sinister.

Virginia reached for Tyler’s hand and he took hold of her fingers. “You make your mother so happy.”

“You make me happy, too.” Tyler looked completely sincere.

Harrison watched the scene and felt his defenses fall. There didn’t seem to be a single motive, no reason whatsoever for Tyler to have this conversation with a woman he didn’t know. Harrison kept watching, barely out of sight.

“I know you weren’t perfect, Ben.” Virginia tilted her head. “But no one is. Not even me.”

They shared a comfortable laugh. “You make forgiveness sound . . . so easy.”

“It is.” She leaned back against her pillows, relaxed. “Jesus already did the hard part, Ben. You know that. If He can go to the cross for me, I guess I can forgive just about anyone.”

“Hmm. I guess so.”

“What does the Bible say?”

Tyler looked a little panicked. “The Bible?”

“About forgiveness?” Virginia chuckled. “Look at that. I have a better memory than you. We talked about this last month.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sat a little straighter. “In the Bible Jesus says, ‘Forgive as I have forgiven you.’ That means we forgive even when the person doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Because none of us ever deserves it. Besides, families need to be the first to forgive. That’s what love looks like.”

Harrison kept watching, amazed.

Tyler nodded. “Yes. That’s definitely what love looks like.” He thought for a moment, then he looked intently at her. “I’m sorry. If I ever disappointed you.”

Harrison wondered if he would faint from the shock. Tyler was definitely going along with Virginia, playing the role of her son like a seasoned actor.

“Disappoint me?” Virginia shook her head. Harrison wasn’t sure, but she seemed to have tears in her eyes. “Ben, you’ve made me so happy. Just being with you. Times like this. Life’s too short to be disappointed with the people you love.” She patted his hand with her free one. “And I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.”

Harrison felt the depth of the moment. If he didn’t know better he’d believe Tyler was actually Ben. The young man was that convincing.

“Okay, then.” Virginia covered a yawn. “I’ll take a nap and we’ll see you in the living room later.” A smile lifted her tired expression. “You’re going to sing for us, right?”

For the first time since Harrison stumbled upon this most unbelievable scene, Tyler Ames looked nervous. “Uh . . . this afternoon?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “My friends are coming over so . . .” She was asleep.

Tyler carefully released her hand and stood. As he did he spotted Harrison and he froze. Fear screamed from his eyes. He held his finger to his lips and quietly retrieved the mop and bucket. He joined Harrison in the hallway and shut the door behind him without making a sound.

Harrison had never seen the kid look guilty until now. “I’ll explain. Can we talk in your office?” Tyler whispered. He clearly did not want to wake Virginia.

Not until then did Harrison notice his own tears. He blinked them back and nodded. “Follow me.”

They reached the office and Harrison closed the door. “What in the world was happening back there?” He didn’t mean to sound angry, but he needed answers. As tender as the scene was, it was a charade. He needed to get to the bottom of the situation.

Tyler slumped in his chair. He looked tired, almost dizzy. Too much so for this early in the morning. “I’m sorry. I . . . didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.”

Harrison exhaled. He felt his frustration ease a bit as he leaned on his desk and squinted. “Start from the beginning. Please.” His voice still sounded clipped.

Tyler gripped the arm of the chair with his good hand. “When I first started, I could never get into her room. She’d been out of control, I guess. Medicated. She was always asleep.” He massaged his left temple. “I finally was able to clean her floor.” He looked around as if he were grabbing at explanations. “I don’t know why, but she called me Ben. She . . . she thought I was her son.”

“I got that.” Harrison was still hesitant, still looking for the motive.

“She asked me to sit down, so I did. Wasn’t sure what else to do.” Tyler sighed. “She . . . started talking to me about how it was 1970 and how my dad was almost home from work.” Tyler seemed to gather a little confidence. “She was so happy, Mr. Myers. Like sitting there with her, letting her talk, was the kindest thing anyone had ever done.”

“I see.” Harrison felt his heart soften. He willed his tone to lighten a little. “How often have you talked to her?”

Tyler didn’t blink. “Every day since then. Each time she’s happier and alert. I finish my work and make her room my last stop. Sometimes I bring her flowers.” He shrugged. “I guess Ben used to do that. Anyway, every afternoon she’s waiting for me.”

“So, she thinks you’re Ben, and that you’re a teenager?” Harrison’s suspicions and concerns began to fall away.

“Sometimes.” Tyler looked as baffled as Harrison felt. “Other times she knows I’m older. She’ll talk about a car accident her son must’ve had. The guy wasn’t hurt, but the car was damaged. She keeps saying she forgives me.”

A lump formed in Harrison’s throat. He had worked at Merrill Place for a long time, but he’d never seen anything like this. “First . . .”—he waited until his voice cooperated—“you should know I’m not angry. Surprised, but not angry. You did nothing to violate policy. It’s just . . . nothing like this has ever happened before.”

“Well, sir”—Tyler looked at his watch—“if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep stopping in. I look forward to talking with her.” His eyes betrayed a hurt he had never talked about. “She sort of, I don’t know—I guess she feels like family now.”

“I understand.” Harrison thought for a few seconds. “I
guess . . . I don’t see any harm in it.” He studied Tyler, wanting to be sure. “I’ve never met Ben. Cheryl doesn’t talk about her brother.” He paused again. “You really care about Virginia, is that it?”

“Yes, sir.” A sad smile tugged at Tyler’s lips. “Very much.”

So Cheryl was right. God was using Tyler Ames to bring about the miracle in Virginia’s life. The truth was more than Harrison could take in. He returned the young man’s smile. “Thanks for explaining. You can get back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Tyler stood, his damaged arm hanging awkwardly against his body. He hesitated. “There is one more thing.”

“Go ahead.”

“I saw an old guitar in the storage room when I was cleaning.” He looked nervous again, the way he had when Virginia brought up singing. “Could I . . . Would you mind if I used it to sing for Virginia and the residents this afternoon? After lunch?”

Harrison raised his brow, amused and touched at the same time. “You sing?”

“No.” Tyler didn’t hesitate.

“You play guitar?”

“Not really.” Tyler looked a little dazed. “In middle school. That’s the last time.”

Again Harrison was moved. The public had never seen this side of Tyler Ames. That much was certain. He glanced at Tyler’s arm. “How are you going to play with one—”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I never dreamed I’d sing again.” He chuckled, and his fondness for Virginia was as obvious as his damaged shoulder. “It matters to her. What
else can I do?” He shook his head. “I have to hope they’re a forgiving audience.”

Harrison looked at Tyler for a long time. “You can use the guitar.” He smiled. “Is the sing-along in the living room?”

“I guess so.” He laughed again—one of the first times Harrison had heard him sound happy. “It better not wind up on YouTube.”

“You’re safe here.” They both laughed and Tyler left the office.

Harrison watched him go. If he hadn’t come in today he might’ve missed this. The truth stayed with him. Tyler Ames, former baseball star, had befriended Virginia Hutcheson, a ninety-year-old woman with Alzheimer’s. And in the process Virginia was finding her way to being whole again. Harrison shook his head. He wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it himself.

He checked his watch. Eleven in the morning. Cheryl stopped by every Sunday after church—probably around one. Right about when Tyler planned to sing for Virginia and her friends. Harrison could hardly wait to tell the woman what he’d found out. Cheryl’s mother thought Tyler was her son. Which meant Virginia had her miracle.

Now Harrison could only hope that Tyler Ames would get his.

20

T
HE PAIN PILLS WERE
wearing off, but Tyler didn’t care. He certainly wasn’t going to play the guitar and sing for Virginia and her friends high on Oxycodone. The singing mattered to Virginia, and so it mattered to Tyler. He was actually looking forward to it. How long had it been since he’d made someone else happy?

He drank extra water so the shaking wouldn’t be as bad. Maybe he’d get lucky and he wouldn’t feel the tremors and sweating until after he sang. He would do his best—he had to for Virginia—but his performance was bound to be a mess. Tyler knew the basic chords from band at school and at least a handful of hymns from his days at church. Before baseball became more important. Still he was pretty sure that after today Virginia would politely refrain from asking him to sing again.

Tyler finished cleaning the hallways and bedrooms at the west wing of Merrill Place and slipped back to his apartment
for lunch.
More water
, he told himself. Something to stop the incessant shaking.

On his way to the fridge, he glanced at the computer. He hadn’t checked Facebook since yesterday. It didn’t matter. Sami wasn’t going to write back. Her Facebook page was active, up to date. Surely she’d read his message by now. No response meant Tyler never should have reached out in the first place.

He hesitated near the table. Of course, maybe she’d been away from her computer. That was possible, right? She might’ve just seen his message today. He flipped open the laptop, tapped a few keys with his left hand, and pulled up Facebook. A small number “1” shouted at him from the top of the screen.

One private message.

He lowered himself slowly to the seat. The message had to be from her. He hadn’t talked to anyone else since his accident. The sweat on his brow grew worse. What if she was angry that he’d written to her? She went by Samantha, after all. She had probably changed. Again, she hadn’t even answered his last call. Or maybe the message wasn’t even from her. Her boyfriend might’ve written back, telling him to stay away.
Ernie something, right?

This is crazy.
He pulled a water bottle from the case on the table, ripped off the lid, and drank half of it. The pain in his shoulder grew with every passing minute. He was sick of the way his body shook, sick of feeling this way. But he couldn’t take the pills. Not until after he played for Virginia. He checked the time on his computer—12:20. The next forty minutes would feel like a year at this rate.

Just read the message,
he told himself.
Get your mind off the pain.
Whatever words lay on the other side of that number, he had to read them. He clicked the notification and the hard edges of his heart melted a little. The message was from Sami.
Samantha Dawson,
it read.

He began to read.

Tyler, I can’t believe it’s you! What’s it been, three years since we talked? Four maybe? First I have to tell you how happy I am that you’re sober. I think a lot of your struggles early on came because you were drinking. So now . . . well, now you can do anything! I always believed that.