In Search of Eden (52 page)

Her thoughts slid to Joseph, and she felt sadness but not the tearing despair she would have thought. She understood why he was angry. She had kept him in the dark for too long, and when she had finally presented him with the truth, it had been immediately peeled away to reveal what seemed to be a layer of falsehood beneath it. She didn't know if he would forgive her or not. Judging from her present surroundings, things didn't look
hopeful. But still, against all logic, hope was exactly what she felt. And it had nothing to do with Joseph. Or even Eden.

She heard clanging and buzzing from the hall and then footsteps. She looked up to see Pastor Hector's face regarding her with raised eyebrows and a slight expression of amusement. “Would you like a visit from your clergyman?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she said, and the guard unlocked the door and admitted him.

“Sit down,” she said, scooting over on the mattress. “Welcome to my home.”

He shook his head. “I'm still trying to figure out how things came to this,” he said.

She sighed. “I didn't know my father was here.”

“I know,” Hector said. “I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, and she felt the sweetness of grace.

“Do you know about Eden?” she asked.

“Ruth told me,” he said. “I hope it's all right.”

“It's all right. I would have told you myself.”

“What are you going to do? Will you tell her?”

“I don't know.”

He nodded and didn't attempt to persuade her one way or the other.

She cleared her throat and brought up the matter which was most pressing on her mind. “I think I would like to become a Christian.”

His brown eyes became even warmer. “All right,” he said.

“What should I do?”

“Tell Jesus.”

She took a deep breath and was beginning to feel anxious when she remembered what the pastor had said to her that night at the church so long ago.
“Just open your heart and ask Him to come in,”
he had said. So that is what she did. The words were simple, but as she prayed them she felt a deep peace rise up and spill over the edges of her heart.

“Amen,” Hector said.

“Amen,” she echoed.

Hector took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. She helped herself to some of the tissue the guard had left her.

“Is this a jailhouse conversion?” she asked, breaking the sober moment, and they both laughed.

More clanging and buzzing and footsteps. The guard again.

“You're free to go,” she said, opening the cell door.

“Wow,” Miranda said, giving Hector an amazed look.

“He sets the captive free,” Hector quipped.

Hector stayed with her until she had checked out of the jail. A female officer gave her back the envelope containing her belongings. Inside was the picture of her baby—Eden, she knew now. She also knew who had put it there. She took it as an indication that she would not be seeing Joseph again.

“What's going to happen to my father?” Miranda asked the officer.

“That's for the judge to decide,” she said.

“Can I see him?”

The officer shook her head. “Visiting hours are this afternoon from two to four.”

She said good-bye to Hector, then went back to the little apartment. She didn't feel that she could still call it home. Ruth called and Miranda thanked her for her efforts. They promised to talk again soon. She slept for a few hours, scrambled a few eggs, then sat down at the table to think.

There were decisions to make. She sat there and thought about them. There was Joseph. She would at least try to talk to him and attempt to explain. There was her father, and here she would have a chance to forgive. There were David and Sarah. And there was Eden.

She prayed for the third time in her life. “Father, God,” she said, “guide me as I walk through this day,” and as she said amen, she knew He would. It was that simple. She showered and washed
her hair and changed her clothes and went to the jail to see her daddy.

The same female guard patted her down, ran the metal detector over her, and let her in. She sat down on a hard plastic chair and waited for her father to come in. He finally did, looking old and lined and sad and tired. Her heart caught, and she suddenly remembered, no felt again, how she had loved him.

“Well, I suppose our bonding is complete now,” she said with a smile. “We've spent the night in the same jail.”

“Your mama would skin me alive,” he said, but he wasn't smiling.

“That she would,” Miranda agreed.

He sat down across from her and ran his hands through his hair. “This is all my fault. I never should have come here, but I felt I had to find you.”

She blinked in disbelief. “You came here to find me?”

He nodded. “Bobbie told me you were in Abingdon, so I suggested to Mikey, my business partner, that we head over this way. But it was a mistake. All I've done is bring bad things to good people.”

“But why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you want to find me?”

He ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair again. Sighed deeply. “Miranda, I'm not proud of the life I've led.”

“Is it true what they're saying, Daddy? Are you one of the Travelers?”

“No, but I had one as a cellmate in prison.”

“You were in prison?”

He nodded and his face looked worn again. “I did some time for writing bad checks. When I got out I didn't have any money, and Mikey took me home with him. Said we would hit the road and make some money. I had to get Grady back,” he said. “His mama was no account. He was staying with her sister, who wasn't much better. That was five years ago, and I've been riding along
with the Travelers ever since. But you know, I just had a feeling my luck was running out. Either that, or I've developed a conscience in my old age. I knew it was wrong to steal from folks, and I didn't like it. That's why I came to find you. I had a feeling things were falling apart, and I didn't want Grady to go to some foster home.”

He looked so weary, Miranda reached across and took his hand. It was callused and strong, and she remembered something else then.

“But you did a good thing, Daddy,” she said softly. “I know what you did for Mama. You saved her.”

He looked surprised.

“I've been to Thurmond,” she said.

He looked pained and sorrowful. “I wish you hadn't had to know that.”

“I think I want to know it all now. The good and the bad. I don't want to live in a fairy-tale world anymore.”

“He was a terrible man, your mother's daddy. He did terrible things to her. I took her and her little sister and got them away. But your mama, she never got over what her daddy had done to her.”

Miranda thought of her mother's closed heart and knew it was true. She had never gotten over it.

“When did you figure out Eden was yours?” he asked Miranda.

“You knew?” She was incredulous.

“Of course I knew. The minute I laid eyes on her, I knew. She's the spittin' image of you when you were that age. Full of vinegar, too. Just like you were.” He smiled and they were silent for a minute, both of them remembering. “You were a fine little girl, Mirandy, and now you're a fine woman. Don't let anybody tell you different.”

She wanted to ask him why he had left, why he had never called. But she didn't. He had done what he had done. Her choice was to forgive or not.

“I love you, Daddy,” she said.

“You know I love you, Mirandy.” He looked sad again, as if he wanted to say more.

“I forgive you, Daddy,” she said.

He brushed tears from his worn face with an equally worn hand. “I don't deserve it.”

“That's true,” she said. Then they looked at each other and smiled, and she liked him so. She loved him and she liked him and she wished, she hoped, she could know him.

“So what's going to happen to you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I'll probably do a little time. Ruth came to see me,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “She's going to go ahead with the campground and said the job of caretaker is still mine if I want it.”

“Do you?” she asked.

“How would you feel about that?”

“You assume I'm going to be here.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “I was assuming that.”

“I'd like it,” she said quietly.

Her father blinked back tears.

“I'd like it very much,” she said.

“Take care of your brother for me?”

She smiled, having already worked that relationship out as she lay in her cell. “So I've got a little brother,” she said.

“More than one, but that's another day's story.”

“What about his mother?”

“Rita? No account,” he said. “I've got legal custody. Papers are in the dash of the truck. And I'm making you his legal guardian until I get out of here. If you'll take him. He's a good boy, Mirandy.”

“Of course I'll take him,” she said. “I'll have my attorney draw up the papers.” She wondered what she would do with a child. She wondered how long her daddy would be in jail.

Her father smiled, apparently easy in his mind now. “What are you going to do about Eden?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Miranda admitted. “What do you think I should do?”

He looked at her seriously, then answered her softly. “I don't know, but I believe you'll do what's best for her.”

She was silent for a minute, and when she spoke she could hear the loss she felt come out in her voice. “I hate to think of her growing up and not knowing me or you or anything about us.”

Her father smiled at her, as if remembering something pleasant. “Mirandy,” he asked, “do you still write everything down in those notebooks like you used to?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Give them to her,” he said. “The whole unvarnished story. Not the sanitized version. Gather it all up, the old parts and the new parts. The parts you're proud of and the parts you're not, and put them all together in a book. It will be your gift to her,” he said, “and you will know the right time to give it.”

Miranda listened, and what her father said sounded good and right to her. She nodded. “Thank you, Daddy,” she said.

“You're welcome, baby.”

She told him good-bye and started to leave, then stopped and came back just as he was turning to go out the door. “Daddy,” she called.

He turned back.

“Are we really Basque?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, darlin'. But it was a sweet story, wasn't it?”

chapter
58

S
arah hung up the telephone with trembling hands. Ruth and David both stood watching her.

“What did she want?” David asked.

“She wants to meet. Now.”

Sarah watched Ruth's face go pale, and David's—she couldn't read David's. She realized then it had been so long since she'd wondered how someone else was feeling that she was poor at seeing the signs. “How are you, David?” she asked.

He looked up in surprise at her question. “I feel sad,” he said. “Sad for everyone.”

She nodded. Ruth excused herself and went into the kitchen.

David wheeled his chair toward the door. “I'll go with you,” he said, and Sarah surprised herself again. “No,” she said. “If it's all right, I'll go alone.”

David looked questioningly at her. She met his gaze, and he must have seen something there that cheered him, for his eyes regained a little of their light.

“All right,” he said. “I'll be praying.”

She nodded and left, choosing to walk down the hill to the church. She had plenty of time, and it would give her a chance
to compose herself. She saw Miranda from a distance, a solitary figure sitting on the steps of the church, and oddly enough, she felt compassion for her. And for Eden, as well.

“Thanks for coming,” Miranda said as Sarah approached.

“Sure,” Sarah said.

She sat down on the steps a comfortable distance away. Miranda gave her a level glance, like a boxer inspecting his opponent before a match.

“Ruth told us,” Sarah said. “I know who you are.”

“Good,” Miranda answered, not seeming to be disturbed by that fact in the least. “Then we can get down to business.”

Sarah felt a slight shock of fear and realized again that this woman could take everything away from her by simply telling Eden the truth. Her daughter's heart was already cold to her. This would be the final blow. And along with the fear, Sarah felt anger and surprise that she cared. She had thought she was beyond caring, that she had given up, but perhaps she'd been as wrong about herself as she'd been about everyone else.

“Exactly what
is
our business?” she asked, her tone arching with her eyebrows, and she could have been mistaken, but she thought she saw a gleam of appreciation in Miranda's eyes when she heard the grit in Sarah's voice.

“Eden is our business,” Miranda answered. “I need to know something. What exactly are your intentions?”

“What are yours?” Sarah shot back.

“I asked you first.”

Sarah smiled without really intending to.

Miranda did, as well. “I suppose that did sound childish,” Miranda said.

Their smiles faded and Miranda came quickly back to the point. “Are you back for good, or will you return to your parents?” Miranda asked.

And there it was. The question Sarah had been asking herself since she had made the breakneck drive yesterday evening. It was
the question in Ruth's eyes and in Eden's and in David's.
Are you here for good? Will you stay?

Miranda took her pause for an answer. “Because if you don't want Eden, I'll take her.”