Diamonds and Cole (27 page)

“I don’t know what to say.” Erin said, her hand over her mouth.

“Say you’ll forgive me, please, and love him. He is so good and kind. He loves you already, I could see it when he talked of you. Say something, Cole, please.”

“I only love you more. Thank you.” Cole looked at Erin for the first time, but she was staring at her mother.

“Did Allen know, is that why he hated me?”

“No one has ever known. I swore to myself I would tell Cole first.”

“It would have been so easy if I had known,” Erin said more to herself than anyone else.

Ellie opened her eyes, her lids were heavy, and it was difficult for her to focus.

“I have the two people I love most in the same room. I could just die I’m so happy.” Ellie closed her eyes and a smile came across her lips.

Cole laughed and kissed her hand. “Naughty girl.” He bent and kissed her on the lips for a long moment. “I love you so.”

“I love you too, big guy,” Ellie said so softly only Cole heard her.

Erin and Cole sat on each side of the bed in silence. At 11:33, Ellie slipped into eternity.

TWENTY

Cole called Mick Brennan on Monday morning and told him of Ellie’s passing. The next call was a little more difficult. The Reverend E.T. Bates was supposed to know all the right things to say. His years of standing beside hospital beds and caskets should have given the experience to have a repertoire revised, honed, and practiced thousands of times. Yet, it seemed as though the old preacher couldn’t find the words he wanted to comfort Cole.

“I didn’t know her, Cole,” Bates said with unusual softness in his volume, “but she touched me. I have seen many, many people facing death. She had such a peace, such dignity. I hope when my time comes, I can face it with as much concern for others as she showed. She loved you very much. We talked for a very short time, she was so weak, but she spoke of you and her daughter. She was so afraid you would be tormented by not getting the girl home. You know, Cole, we can lead the way but the prodigal has to make the choice to return.”

“She came back,” Cole said, “last night.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” the old man said reverently. “I prayed she would.”

“Would you do the service?”

“I would be honored.”

“I’ll have the funeral parlor call you with the details. Let’s keep it simple. She didn’t like a lot of falderal. I know you’ll have the right words, maybe a song. She didn’t want a chapel service, just something by the graveside. She loved the outdoors, you know?”

“I’m praying for you, brother.” This was a benediction. The conversation was over, the volume was back up.

Cole and Erin had spoken only briefly regarding the funeral. She had given her blessing to whatever he decided. Cole had asked her if there was anything special she wanted done. There wasn’t. With great difficulty, he had asked her to get something for Ellie to wear. Erin said she already had.

“Are you going to call Allen and the kids?” Erin had asked hesitantly.

“To hell with them,” was Cole’s only response, subject closed.

Cole felt very awkward, and Erin was all business. The call only lasted a minute or two. When he hung up, he felt very alone. He walked to the curtains and drew them closed. He hadn’t dressed and wouldn’t. He lay back on the unmade bed and pulled the covers up tight around him. The room was dark and cool. Cole Sage was totally and completely alone. The future loomed like an ancient tapestry before him and, as he thought of his life without the possibility of Ellie, he drifted into sleep.

After waking early, showering, and forcing down a paper cup of bitter instant motel room coffee, Cole left the hotel and went for a long drive into the foothills. Near a grove of live oak trees, he stopped and ate a sandwich and apple he’d gotten at a little grocery along the way. He realized it was the first food he had eaten in two days. Cole climbed over a sagging barbed wire fence and walked to the top of a hill. The grass was dry and the wind gusted.

At the top of the hill, he lay back in the grass and watched the huge billowy clouds roll by.
This was Ellie’s kind of day
. He thought of a day just like this when they lay in a meadow full of daisies and talked of what their life was going to be like. They laughed and dreamed about a life together, growing old, having had brilliant careers and a houseful of kids. They talked of trips to Europe and a big ecologically sound fireplace crackling in a roomful of books and big pillows. Cole knew that’s the way it would have been.

Call it closure, call it resolution, call it atonement, but Cole was at peace. Ellie was gone. He had asked forgiveness, declared his love; he had gotten the gift of a daughter. He knew if they’d had the time, they would have been good together. Just as he had dreamed looking out of a thousand airplane windows, he did not regret his loneliness; it had prepared him for the sweetness of their coming together again. Ellie had prepared him for a life without her, this time separation with a loving goodbye. This time there was no guilt, nor despair. The loss of Ellie was as she had told him; the beginning of a life of beautiful memories and love remembered. He knew he was going to be all right and, at this moment, his heart felt as big as the clouds overhead.

Cole left the hill with a sense that the new life Ellie had promised would become a reality. The drive back to town was free of dread. The grapefruit-sized knot he had lived with since Ellie’s phone call was gone. He didn’t know when it had disappeared, but it seemed he was breathing freer, deeper. He thought of Erin. He hoped they would keep in touch. He hoped for a relationship with her, but he was realistic, too. Why would she suddenly want a stranger in her life just because they were linked biologically? He wouldn’t push it. If it happened, it would be wonderful; if it didn’t, he already understood.

Erin had spent the morning making calls. The first was to her husband, Ben. He had often wondered if his wife would ever reach out to her mother, and was quietly pleased when Erin said she was going to see Ellie. It saddened him that he had never met her. Although estranged, Erin often spoke with deep fondness of her mother. He had heard her many times while putting Jenny to bed sing little songs or tell stories that she said, “My mama told me when I was your age....” Ben had hoped and prayed that the trip would put things right between Erin and her mother. Although he would never tell her, it had always deeply troubled him that she had felt such bitterness towards the woman.

Ben’s family was very close, and his relationship with his own mother was something he treasured. His father had passed away when he was in his first year of med school. Ben would’ve taken a leave of absence, but his mother and sister wouldn’t hear of it. Their argument was that his father would never have accepted putting off the goal. In the end, he knew they were right and could hear his father’s voice directing him to push on. Without family support and cheerleading on the sidelines, he was sure he never would’ve made it through medical school.

Erin told Ben she’d be back Thursday night after the funeral. She turned down his offer to join her. She thought it would be best if he just stayed with Jenny. Ben volunteered to tell her supervisor of Ellie’s death and arrange time off for Erin. Mrs. Bishop would take care of Jenny during the day as usual, and Ben would trade shifts with Joe Jaramillo so he would be home every night that Erin was gone.

Erin found it hard to express how much she appreciated Ben’s support. It wasn’t what he said, it was who he was. His strength and caring for her was more than she thought she could have expected from anyone again. It was the same inner strength her mother had possessed before she’d surrendered to Allen Christopher’s dominance. Erin told Ben she loved him, sent kisses to Jenny, and said goodbye. She did not say a word about Cole.

Later in the afternoon, Erin drove around town for a while and bought a dress and new shoes for the services the next day. She checked into the Holiday Inn, ate a salad from Wendy’s in her room, and cried herself to sleep. Cole went to a florist when he got back to town and ordered flowers for Ellie. He had a burrito from a taco truck and stopped to watch a group of college age kids playing soccer in the park. He later fell asleep in his motel room with the television on.

Cole and Erin found themselves with nothing much to do. Erin called an old friend from school and went to lunch with her. In the afternoon, she felt a strange urge to see the house where she grew up. As she pulled up across the street, she thought something wasn’t quite right. The curtains looked different, and several large juniper bushes that had been under the front windows were gone. In their place was a beautiful bed of flowers. New white shutters were decorating all the front windows, and the front door had been painted a deep green. She was shocked when a tall, slender black woman came out of the house and loaded three kids into the minivan parked in the drive. The woman gave her a broad smile and a friendly wave as she pulled out. Allen had sold.
Just as well
, Erin thought.

Cole had gone to a used bookstore and tried in vain to get interested in looking at the mystery section. The store smelled old and musty, the woman behind the counter chatted on the phone. Her voice was grating, and he found the classical music irritating. He was in and out within five minutes. The new multiplex cinema on McAllister was his last hope. He paid the matinee price for a ticket to see a mindless blood-and-guts fest about a tattooed drifter who finds himself protecting a beautiful blonde, whose husband had been killed by renegade Indians, and her little boy. It was just what he needed; in fact, he stayed and watched it twice. Nobody noticed.

Around six, Cole returned to the Holiday Inn and was unlocking his door when someone called his name. Turning, he saw Erin unlocking the door next to his.

“Hello, neighbor,” Erin said with a smile.

“Hello yourself.”

They stood looking at each other for the longest time. Neither of them wanted to move. It felt good, comforting even.

Finally Cole said,”Have you had dinner?”

“No. You?”

“Nope.”

“Would you like to?” Erin said shyly.

“Very much.”

“Okay, let’s.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Mashed potatoes and gravy.” Erin smiled. “Comfort food, you know?”

“I know just the place.”

Fifteen minutes later, they walked into Gustav’s Hof Brau. The windows were steamed over, and a TV in the corner silently played a baseball game. At the far end of the room was a cafeteria-style counter. Behind the counter stood an ageless Chinese man, who could have been 40 or 80, in a white shirt and apron. On his head was a white paper diner hat and in his hand was a carving knife.

“That’s Lou, he’s owned this place for a hundred years. Your mom and I used to call this place ‘German Mao.’ He’s got just what you need.” Cole turned his attention toward the man. “Hi, Lou, how about mashed potatoes and gravy for the lady. I’ll have a barbecued pork sandwich on a roll and a side of dressing and gravy.”

“Just like when you a kid. You never change order? This your daughter? She look just like mom. Make me feel old, you know,” Lou beamed. He loved showing off his memory.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”

“I read your stuff. Pretty good most of the time.”

“Thanks,” Cole said with a touch of irony in his voice.

“She very pretty girl. How’s your mom? I haven’t seen her in four or five years.”

Erin looked at Cole and smiled warmly, “I think she’s doing fine.”

“You tell her hello for me. She a very pretty lady, nice, too.”

“So, how’s your wife?” Cole interjected.

“She died. Five years now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cole said.

“It’s okay, part of life, you know? I still got five kids and 13 grandkids. Without my Fay, I would have nothing. It’s good, part of life. I miss her, though.” Lou put two steaming plates on their trays. “Here you go.”

Cole paid and they went to a booth. There was an elderly man sipping tea sitting at a corner table; otherwise, the restaurant was empty. Cole removed their plates, took the empty trays, and slid them across to the table in the next aisle.

“Looks good,” Erin said not lifting her eyes from her plate.

“The Comfort Food Palace.” Cole smiled.

“So, what happened to your face?”

“Ran into some bad guys,” Cole said with embarrassment, having forgotten about his bruises.

The two sat eating in silence for several minutes. Cole’s mind raced for something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid. He was thankful that each time he looked up she was looking down. When he looked down at his plate, he could feel Erin’s eyes on him. Being a newspaperman had put Cole across a lot of tables with a lot of people who either didn’t want to talk or were afraid to. This was a case of neither. The table was silent but not strained. Cole felt he needed to say something because he wanted to talk to Erin, he just didn’t know where to start.

“So, what do we do with each other now?” Erin said, not looking up.

“I don’t know,” Cole began. “What would you like us to do?”

“I don’t know how to say what I am feeling exactly. I want to—” Erin stirred her mashed potatoes with the tip of her fork.

“Let’s pretend I’m not here. You talk to yourself out loud and I’ll listen. How ‘bout that?”

Erin looked up at him for the first time and smiled. “I’ll try that. You see, well, in the last 48 hours, I’ve replayed the tape of my life in my head. I’m not sure if it is the eyes of an adult that is making some things clearer or that I just want to see them a certain way. You know what I mean? You are a kind of mythological figure in my life story. This hero that my mother told stories of, someone who, to me, was untouchable, who was like a character from the books we read at bedtime. As I grew older, the Cole stories were like
Aesop’s Fables
, the little Cole antidotes for the latest adolescent problems.”