Fatherless: A Novel (25 page)

Talia Mubar
noticed a small spot on her husband’s sport coat and moved in for a closer look. Mustard, as she had suspected.

“Seth Mubar!” she scolded. “When on earth did you manage to get mustard on this jacket? I just had it cleaned last week to
get out the barbeque sauce stain.”

Reverend Mubar paid no attention as she dabbed her napkin in a glass of water sitting beside her menu or when she began rubbing
the spot, his eyes fixed instead on the restaurant doors as if he was expecting someone.

“Don’t worry about the mustard,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”

“So speak,” Talia replied as she continued scrubbing. “My ears and my hands can work at the same time. I won’t have you looking
like a muddled vagrant. At least not when we’re together!”

He pretended to resent the affectionate jab.

“You remember our meeting with Angie Tolbert?”

“Of course. Sweet girl.”

“She phoned yesterday to ask for another meeting, this time with her husband.”

“I’m glad. Do they want to discuss the baby again?” Talia guessed.

“Yes,” he said, appearing slightly uncomfortable. “They have an important decision to make and want our input.”

She sat back from her cleaning to inspect her work.

“Hopeless!” she concluded. “Take it off.”

“What?”

“You aren’t wearing that jacket while on a date with me. I expect my man to be presentable in public.”

Hearing
date
seemed to make him even more uneasy. But he obeyed, wrestling his way out of his favorite sport coat, which doubled as a
bib.

“About date night…” he began. “I have a confession.”

“Seth Mubar!” She didn’t need to hear another word. “You invited them to meet us for dinner, didn’t you?”

A sheepish nod.

She looked toward the entrance. “Is that why you’ve been watching those doors like a watchman on a wall?”

A stupid grin.

“I’ve been better,” he said defensively. “Haven’t I?”

“We’ve spent exactly two of our last eight date nights alone. You scheduled a counseling session during one. We ran into parishioners
during two and you invited them to join us. And you spent most of the other three responding to crisis calls.” She paused.

“I know.”

“Which is it this time?”

“The first, I guess,” he admitted.

He spotted Angie walking through the door. Noticing his face, Talia turned in time to see Kevin trailing his wife.

“Looks like we’re on,” Seth said contritely.

“Looks like you’re in the doghouse, Mr. Mubar!” Talia teased while grinning and waving to the darling couple.

Seth knew that his wife didn’t mind nearly as much as she pretended. Both knew that such interruptions came with a pastor’s
role.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said while they rose to greet their approaching guests.

“Yes you will,” she threatened.

“Hello Representative Tolbert.” Seth extended his hand toward Kevin’s. “I’m so pleased this worked out.”

Kevin appeared embarrassed while Angie accepted a hug from Talia. “Please, Pastor, call me Kevin.”

“Only if you call me Seth.”

“Deal.”

Both gave their prolonged handshake an extra squeeze to seal the pact.

They took their seats around the table as an attentive waiter rushed over to fill two more water glasses. Conversation bounced
between insignificant topics to fill time until they could place their orders. Talia and Angie gave a glowing update on each
of their respective children while Seth and Kevin found more shared interests than either had expected. No one watching would
have assumed the scene a counseling session between pastor and parishioners, but rather a meeting of distant acquaintances
quickly becoming dear friends.

Salads served, Kevin seized the opportunity to fulfill his promise to Angie.

“We asked to meet because Angie and I are facing an important decision.” He placed his hand on Angie’s. “And we trust your
wisdom on such matters.”

“What kind of matter?” Seth prodded.

Kevin reached into his breast pocket to retrieve the notice from Genhance. He read it aloud.

“I see.” Seth’s eyes momentarily met his wife’s, hoping they would offer her usual unspoken advice. She seemed equally at
a loss. He turned back toward Kevin. “I surmise the two of you disagree.”

“I wouldn’t say we disagree,” Kevin said instinctively.

“We strongly disagree,” Angie said, looking directly into Seth’s face.

Kevin blushed slightly. “Yes, we do.”

Seth looked again toward Talia, who appeared uncharacteristically neutral. Then he turned to Angie. “Tell me why you’re considering
the treatments.”

She looked at Kevin, who accepted the handoff.

“She isn’t,” he began. “I did some research to see whether there is anything that might give Leah a shot at a normal life.”

“What do you mean, normal?”

“You know. School. A job. Maybe marriage and a family,” Kevin replied.

“Why do you want her to have those things?” Seth asked.

The question drew a reaction from Angie. “We both want those things for Leah. But I’m not willing to take the risks. This
is an experimental treatment.”

“What are the risks?” Talia interjected.

Angie looked back toward Kevin.

“Galliger told me most participants to date have experienced a gradual, long-term improvement in mental acuity.”

“Galliger?” Seth asked.

“Sorry. Dr. Wayne Galliger heads up Epigenetic Research for Genhance Laboratories. He’s considered one of the world’s foremost authorities on cognitive disabilities. He directed the development phase for GE six-thirty-three and is personally overseeing the tests.”

Seth gave a slight nod, prompting Kevin to continue.

“Anyway, he told me that a small number of the test patients experienced dramatic changes, including healing of patches of
brain tissue that had been assumed dead or too damaged for repair.”

“Those sound more like potential benefits than risks.”

Kevin accepted the redirection back to Talia’s original question.

“He said about twenty percent of patients experience dramatic, short-term gains followed by a sharp turn for the worse. A
few have even ended up comatose.”

Talia and Seth sighed in unison.

“A difficult decision,” Seth admitted. “You love your baby girl and want what’s best for her. You find a program that looks
promising only to discover serious risks.”

“The same decision people face every day when deciding whether to accept the risk of surgery to remove a deadly tumor.”

Kevin’s comparison clearly bothered Angie. “But Leah doesn’t have a deadly tumor. This isn’t a life-or-death decision. It’s
a try-fixing-her-or-not decision.”

Kevin visibly reacted to Angie’s indirect accusation. They seemed to have had this argument before.

“I’m not trying to fix her!” he told Seth with slightly raised volume. “I just want what’s best for her.”

Seth took a bite of salad. Kevin and Talia followed his lead, creating a perfect distraction from the rising tension. Angie
refused to join the feast.

“Tell them the rest,” Angie insisted.

Kevin’s fork halted en route to his mouth. He slowly lowered it to the plate.

“We checked our insurance to learn about coverage for experimental treatments,” he began. “In light of the risk of coma they
require parental preapproval for the child to transition if necessary. They want to avoid an indefinite period of costly life-support
services.”

Talia gasped. “They transition the kids?”

“There haven’t been any kids treated yet,” Kevin explained. “But they have found it necessary to transition about ten percent
of elderly test participants.”

“I won’t sign a paper saying they can kill my daughter if the treatment goes bad.”

Talia nodded in maternal solidarity while looking toward her husband, who appeared alarmingly undecided. “We agree,” she said
preemptively.

Seth’s hand formed into a not-so-fast gesture as he leaned toward Angie.

“Do you remember what we discussed in my office?” he asked. “About the burden Leah will be on your family?”

The question appeared to bother Angie until she noticed Seth’s knowing wink.

“I think so,” she replied. “You asked me whether I resented Leah.”

Kevin’s head jerked toward Angie and then toward Seth, clearly offended for his baby girl. “Resent Leah?”

“Then you asked me whether I was upset with God for failing to protect her from fragile X syndrome.”

Kevin leaned back in his chair, appearing less upset but still alarmed.

“You said Leah would be a whole lot of work and very expensive to raise,” Angie continued.

Talia, finally understanding the direction of the conversation, decided to join the ambush. “Do you remember what I said?”

Angie paused, then nodded. “I do.”

“Leah may cause you embarrassment in public, especially as she gets older. She could even become a source of tension in your
marriage.”

“Wait a minute.” Kevin couldn’t listen any longer. “Why would you say those things?”

“Because they’re true,” Seth replied firmly. “Because they are the reality when raising a debit child.”

“What did you say?” Kevin asked, visibly angry over Seth’s use of such an insulting term to describe his precious little girl.

Seth flashed his bright white teeth toward Angie and Talia. They grinned and nodded in quiet satisfaction at having so easily
sprung the trap.

“That bothers you, doesn’t it, my friend?” Seth said while placing a pastoral hand on Kevin’s shoulder.

He nodded, the seething subsiding in apparent recognition of the ploy. “Of course it bothers me.”

“Good,” Seth replied. “Then I think we can change the subject now.”

“Change the subject?” Angie protested. “But we have so many questions. We’re supposed to make a decision on the test by next
week.”

Talia reached across the table to pat Angie’s hand. “Sweetheart, the decision is already made.”

Angie looked at Kevin, his eyes fighting a losing battle against invading moisture.

“I have a hunch your husband will be entering Leah’s room when you get home and holding her extra close tonight,” Talia predicted.

A lone tear escaped Kevin’s defenses, a white flag surrendering to friendly conquest.

Seth paraphrased the admonition he had given Angie in his office. “Children are a gift from the Lord, each one of them a unique
reflection of the One Whose image they bear. You wanted to slug me when I called her a debit. That tells me everything in
you knows Leah possesses infinite worth and dignity. You know that her value isn’t based upon her capacity to go to school,
get a job, or even have what you called a normal family life. She’s beautiful, not because she will make the dean’s academic
list or become a cheerleader or win a beauty pageant, but because she’s a unique icon of God himself.”

Kevin snorted to regain an at-risk composure while avoiding eye contact with Angie. “You’re right.”

“I’m a father too, Kevin. I know how it feels to want to fix what’s broken in your child’s life. We have that feeling because
we are made in the image of another dad, one who would do anything to restore his wayward and damaged kids.”

Both Angie and Talia reached for their napkins rather than fight back tears.

“Little Leah is part of a sacred portrait God is painting called the Tolbert family. He plans to hang that picture on some
gallery wall to reveal part of himself,” Seth continued. “Leah doesn’t need to be fixed. She needs to be put on display!”

The sound of sniffles continued as the waiter replaced partially empty salad plates with entrées. It was then that Talia noticed
a small dab of salad dressing easing its way down the front of her husband’s shirt.

Angie’s eyes
opened to streams of bright morning sunlight sneaking around the edges of her closed window blinds. Her dilated pupils adjusted
gradually until she could see the angled numbers on a digital display sixteen inches from her nose. She started to move toward
the clock to confirm the time, only to notice the pleasant warmth of Kevin’s right arm swathing her torso and his right leg
resting across her upper thigh. She abandoned her routine, choosing instead to nestle herself closer into Kevin’s spooning
embrace and entwine her fingers with his to pull them slowly to her lips. She smiled, remembering their agreement the night
before.

“Let’s turn off the alarm and sleep until we wake,” she had suggested.

She couldn’t believe his immediate agreement. No meetings until lunch. Time to enjoy breakfast with the family as he had every
Wednesday when they lived in Colorado. “Troy can handle whatever comes up,” he had said. “I need to be home in the morning.”

She kissed Kevin’s knuckles gently and listened for the sounds of stirring children. Hearing nothing, she knew Joy’s internal
clock had not yet reached seven thirty. Angie reclosed her eyes to accept another moment of slumbering bliss.

The next sound she heard was Tommy’s hushed voice coaching his perplexed little sister, who, it seemed, had not expected to
see her mommy and daddy asleep in their bed.

“Shh,” he said. “They’we sweeping.”

The noise startled Kevin awake.

“Hey, buddy,” he groaned at Tommy. “How’s my champ doing this morning?”

“Shh.” He raised the volume several decibels. “Mommy’s asweep!”

Angie opened her eyes to end the big-brother-enforced stillness. A giant smile formed across Joy’s face as she pressed her
nose to her mommy’s.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Angie whispered to her new source of sunshine. “Did you wake up?”

Joy’s vigorous nod launched the day. Kevin kissed Angie on the cheek before rolling out of bed with a yawning stretch. Angie
slipped into her robe before taking Joy’s hand and heading toward Leah’s door to listen for motion. Tommy took his usual seat
on the master bathroom floor to watch Daddy shave.

Fifteen minutes later the Tolbert family sat around the kitchen table listening to Joy parrot the sounds of words Tommy spoke
with hands folded and head bowed over a bowl of instant oatmeal.

“Thank you for the food.”

“Tankoo da ood,” Joy repeated.

“Thank you for baby Weah.”

“Tankoo aby eah.”

“Amen.”

“Men.”

Angie nursed Leah while watching Kevin pour the apple juice. She sent a wink of reassurance in his direction, indicating the
moment of truth had arrived. They had agreed to tell Tommy during breakfast but hadn’t determined who would speak first. He
winked back to accept the assignment.

“Tommy, your mommy and I need to talk to you about something very important.”

Even a five-year-old could sense Kevin’s uncertainty.

Angie recalled their questions to Pastor Seth during dessert. Was the news too much to lay on the shoulders of such a young
child? Should they wait until Tommy was old enough to understand more fully?

No. They should tell him right away.

Tommy swallowed a mouthful of mushy oats to clear the way for what seemed an important conversation.

“What is it, Daddy?”

“I want to tell you something about baby Leah,” Kevin began.

Tommy placed his spoon on the table, then reached for his juice cup. He emptied it like a shot glass of whiskey in anticipation
of bad news, then turned squarely toward his father to give his undivided attention.

“Several weeks ago we found out that Leah has something called fragile X syndrome.” He paused. No question came. “It’s a genetic
disorder…”

Angie cleared her throat, reminding Kevin to keep the language simple.

“I mean, it’s something that makes Leah different from other babies.”

Tommy didn’t move, hanging on every word.

“Have you noticed anything different about Leah?”

He squeezed his eyes in concentration. Nothing came, so he shook his head slowly back and forth.

“What your daddy is trying to say, Tommy,” Angie added, “is that Leah may not be able to do all of the things Joy can do when
she’s two or the things you can do now when she turns five.”

Tommy turned to look at Joy, then Leah. “Like wee-wee in the toiwet and wide a bike?”

“Sort of,” Kevin continued. “We don’t actually know what she will and won’t be able to do. We just know it will be more difficult…I
mean…it may not be as easy for Leah to do those kinds of things as it is for you and for Joy.”

Tommy nodded in agreement but didn’t seem to understand.

Kevin looked toward Angie for more help.

“Do you remember when Joy started to walk?” Angie asked.

He nodded again while lifting his hand. “I was this many.”

“That’s right. You turned four a week before Joy took her first steps.” Angie smiled broadly, recalling the excitement on
Tommy’s face watching his little sister judder her way toward Mommy’s open arms thirteen months earlier. “Leah will probably
be much older than Joy was when she takes her first steps.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s concern seemed to grow rather than lessen.

“Do you remember when you learned your ABC’s?” Kevin asked, picking up on Angie’s successful strategy.

Tommy nodded slowly.

“That will take longer for Leah also.”

Sensing Leah’s waning suckle, Angie moved the baby and began patting her gently on the back. She tried to recall what she
had read about the intellectual capacity of fragile X children. Would she learn her alphabet? Would she ever know the joy
of reading a favorite book, writing a simple story, or coloring between the lines? She paused the patting to squeeze Leah
close, grieving over a disheartening list of limitations her daughter might know.

Shifting his attention from Kevin’s third or fourth example of how Leah might be different, Tommy noticed Angie’s face.

“Don’t cwy, Mommy,” he said.

The slight sound of Leah’s burp lightened the moment.

“There you go!” Angie celebrated while sniffling back emotion. “I bet that feels better.”

Tommy got up from his chair and moved toward Angie and the baby. Then he turned back toward Kevin with a tortured look of
worry under an apple juice mustache.

“Do you understand what we’ve been trying to say, Tommy?” Kevin asked.

A slight, anxious nod.

“Do you have any questions?”

His hand reached toward Leah’s, then pulled back. He seemed nervous about touching her, as if she had suddenly become more
fragile than he could fathom.

“Tommy?” Kevin prodded. “What are you thinking, buddy?”

A fretful quaver filled his voice. “Does this mean…?” He paused.

“Does it mean what, sweetheart?” Angie asked while reaching over to rub his little back.

He swallowed hard, seeming to force himself to ask a question he hoped they wouldn’t answer.

“Will I still be able to hug her and kiss her every day?”