Leaping (8 page)

"Next
I found out about his financial problems. I confronted. He lied. I withdrew. He
admitted everything.
We got counseling, he got financial
counseling.
He got on a path, he fell off, I made him account. I stopped
sleeping with him. I could barely look at him. He resorted to…jealousy over
every move I made, every minute I spent with Seth.

"I
found texts…I confronted…he lied. It happened again. He worked with young
people. Trust…didn't exist. He was on the emotional level of a teenager. I
became his shrew of a mother.

"I
also had my dad…my stable, wonderful dad and he showed up in my and Seth's
lives like gold against Justin's…
asshatery
. My dad
hated Justin…well any threat to Seth or myself. Dad supported my decision to
ask Justin to leave, and I gave him plenty of time to get help, and when that
didn't appear to be happening I started divorce proceedings. As soon as he was
back in the States after one of his trips, he signed. He was as relieved as I
was that it was over. But I still had Seth.
And Dad.
Well…so…that's me."

In Jordan's mind that
took
them
right back to James. Jordan wondered
again if they would always end up there, at the military boots of James Carson.
He'd only known Henry
Tulley
as the murdered chief of
police from a nearby town, the body hanging out of the back pew, the dark hair,
the arm, the empty hand.

They
had just cleaned up breakfast when Cori took the call that Seth had a fever.
His caregiver was asking permission to take him to the emergency room. His
temperature was spiking one hundred and five. He was a twelve year old boy, but
after having a bullet bounce around in his chest, Cori didn't take chances. She
told Jordan this as she flew upstairs quickly packing her clothes and personal
items. He followed, then stood there fighting the urge to pack a bag, too.

He
couldn't ask her not to go, he couldn't do that. Seth needed his mother. But to
think she might not make it back to him, well she couldn't.
Shouldn't.
It was a long trip and…it was just a few days.

"I'll
take you," he said. He heard those words and he was as thrown to say them
as she seemed to be to receive them.

She
had stopped,
then
slowed, but she was moving again,
albeit she was thinking.

"I
mean…to the airport…or…whatever you need. I could drive you home. Be with
you."

She
looked at him and blew some hair out of her face. "It's…not so simple. I
wanted you to meet him…but…."

"Tell
me what you need."

She
slowly finished packing, but she wouldn't look at him while she figured it out.
He slowly started to pull his bag out of the closet and think about what to put
in it.

"It's
a ten hour drive," she said from the bathroom door. Maybe that was easier,
her uncharacteristically deferring, allowing him to decide a matter that
involved her son.

"I'll
stay at a motel. He doesn't have to see me. But I'll be there for you."

She
shook her head. "How would that work?"

"I
don't know," he said unzipping his shaving kit.
"Whatever
you need."

She
was chewing her lip. "I…
is
that selfish of
me?"

"I
asked." Begged, he thought. "I could just take you…and leave.
Unless…."
A stare-off now, a waiting.

She
shook her head. "It's a lot to ask. This is your vacation, your
time."

It
wasn't. It wasn't even a life. Not now.

"I
want to go…if…it would help." And then, "We said three weeks."
And he waited.

Chapter
12

Cori
was on the phone for the first hour as they sped toward Missouri. She talked to
Iris, the caregiver, she talked to Seth,
the
one cared
for. Seth hadn't wanted to go to the hospital. He'd been livid. But his
pediatrician said he would meet them there.

Jordan
was seeing another side of Cori, focused and direct, strength in her voice,
brass in her spine. But inside of her, the churning nougat center—fear.

And
a hellacious load of guilt.
She'd tried to branch out, reach out by coming to the beach. "Before I
conquer backwards living, I need to learn how to go forward," she said,
self-loathing, clutching the phone Jordan sensed she wanted to throw to make
her point.

He pulled into the
rest-stop. It couldn't have come at a better time. He had to piss, yeah, but
that wasn't it. He needed to hold her.

"Come
here," he said as soon as he stopped the car.

"Jordan…there's
no time."

Okay.
There was no time. So this was it. No time. And they'd been milking it, time,
selfishly milking it, pulling all the nectar out, the sweetness, and now they
were duty-bound. Duty was always tapping its foot, waiting, disgusted, its arms
crossed, its lips stacked.

"I
need to hold you," he said. That's it. That's all he had.

She
moved over to him, and he put the seat back and he took her on his lap, and she
was closed, a bundle for him to wrap his snaky arms around, a hostage to
his…idea.

He
kissed her cheek for starters, moved her hair behind her shoulder so there
would be no barrier between them. "He's going to be fine. They said a
virus."

"He's
been through enough," she said fierce. It stung, it just did. But he was
patient. He was, by nature, a calming influence on the distraught. And he'd had
so much practice.

He
held out his hand. "Put them right there."

"What?"
she said, her eyes fiery, her voice shaky.

"All
your troubles, all your cares."

She
stared at his hand for a second. "Jordan." She closed her eyes and
swallowed loudly.

"C'mon,"
he chided.

"I
can't. It's too much," she whispered, eyes still closed.

"Then
share. Give me half," he said.

She
slowly lifted her hand and lightly touched his palm. "I'm sorry," she
whispered.

"Hey,"
he said, and she opened her eyes. "Take a breath. You're not alone."

"Jordan,"
she moaned, her arms coming around him, her head dropping to his shoulder. He
held her there and rocked a little. She was soft on him, finally giving over.

After
a couple of minutes she kissed him and straightened before sliding in to her
seat. He could feel her sense of duty coming back to life. He reminded her he
had half now.

"You've
got a way," she said,
then
she burst in to tears.

He
spent the next five minutes letting her cry it out while he kept his arms
around her. His shoulder was soaked by the time she quieted down. He dug the
small box of Kleenex out of the glove box and wiped at her face and she took
over.

She
was sniffing and blowing and wiping and still crying and laughing and
apologizing.

"Have
to take a piss," he said unsnapping his seat belt.

"Oh…so
do I." She opened her door and got out. He stepped quickly to her and took
her arm. They walked to the center arms entwined. They broke apart at the glass
doors and he knew regret. He told himself to get a damn
grip,
he couldn't accompany her into the john, could he? Damn.

He
was out first, at the soda machine, punching for two Cokes, his full of sugar,
hers diet.

He
had these when she came out, and she seemed a tablespoon less wrecked as she took
the can, popped it and drank.

"Thank
you…Jordan…for everything. I barged in to your life…." Her statement
dwindled and he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.

"Jordan," she
said very earnestly, drawing back to look at him, "are you…you make me
feel so…Jordan…
do
you think you could ever…."

"Yes,"
he said. Yes to everything she didn't have words for.
Just
yes.

They
walked back to his car at a normal pace her hand in his. She was crying again,
but it wasn't like before. He knew she needed to let it out, he knew she would
be alright.

He
opened her door and she smiled at him as she got in. She had no idea how
endless his patience was when he wanted it to be. At least he was that
way…before. Now…he had no idea, but came to her…anything seemed possible.

So
he drove and it was quiet, no radio, no music, and he'd taken her hand, moving
his thumb over each of her fingers, and she looked at him every few minutes,
adoration, no other word, and it got to him, Lord it liquefied any crumb of
resistance he had left.

She
was lovely in the light, the bright
shine,
she was
lovely in the gray shadow when the sun dipped. She was just lovely.

"You
know what? He's going to be fine," she said, getting off her cell for the
tenth time. "Iris said they are not going to keep him. They are sending
him home. So I dragged you into this…."

"That's
good though. That's what…we wanted." Well, he'd wanted it
too,
in case she was thinking he'd only count this trip
worthwhile if Seth was near death.

"We
could…eat," he said, eyebrows raised, and she laughed.

"I'm
sorry. I lose my appetite when it comes to him. I lost so much weight when he
was in the hospital. I'm still…not normal."

"This
is the new normal," he said, not serious, but it was what they called it,
after loss, in grief-speak. New normal was a bubble way off-center.

"I'll
eat if you put it right in front of me…when I'm like that. I just…forget."

"Yeah.
I understand." It was all
understatement now. He got it. He did.

They
were moving toward her life.
Real life.
'He was great
at beginnings,' she'd said about Justin. Did that mean…what did that mean? Is
that why she'd wanted to start at the end with Jordan? It wasn't possible.
She'd understood that…right? It was just a game. He probably sucked at the
middle, at the
end,
he was the worst at endings. Talk
about duty-bound. He'd stay a course forever.

He'd
only made it through the beginning because she had stayed with him, switching
the rules, whatever it took to get close to him. But how would it be now? How
would they sustain it? There was Seth. And she was so deeply enmeshed with her
son…he knew about that. He'd studied that. Going to the beach was her attempt
to separate. She'd said as much. He realized now what a big step that had been.
Not just the seduction, the manipulation, her declaration she wasn't a woman
who could drop her dress…couldn't sustain it. What a leap.

And
now that Seth had survived the shooting, her new nightmare…Seth needing her and
her not being there. Just like that day…the incident. She couldn't save him.

That
was the message wasn't it? That was the gospel now. She couldn't save her
father, she couldn't save her son…but she could be vigilant. Oh god…she was
that.

"So," he
said, "what's going on in that brain of yours?" He said this in that
new strange voice he had somehow conjured just for her. His professionalism had
been blown to hell. It would never work with her anyway. It had helped him to
gain distance from his own emotions and the emotions of others when they needed
a leader and not someone as paralyzed by grief as they were. Professionalism
allowed the distance…so he could serve…function…be counted on to keep a cool
head while someone's world blew to hell…to hell.

"Don't
use that on me," Bill would tell him though, to keep him honest. Bill
would make him account. How was he doing…really doing…that was Bill's favorite
question, and Jordan would try to hold him off…with professionalism and all its
bullshit, and Bill would plow right through, all the way to the lava inside,
the fatigue and the anger and the disgust and Jordan's promise to himself that
he was going to quit ministry and get a real job, one with hours, benefits
commensurate with risk, one he could leave at the office because it didn't
involve someone's despair, or shitty circumstances, one where when he finished,
he put something on a shelf and it stayed, or he was given a task and he could
complete it. He wanted that. He wanted some damn control as badly as she did.

"Jordan,
my hand," Cori whispered.

He
pulled away, gripping the wheel. "God, I'm sorry."

"What's
going on in your brain? That's the question," she said, her hand coming to
his neck, fingers combing through his hair. Oh God, he wanted that…wanted her.

What
were they doing in this damn car?

"I…I
was thinking about my old boss. Pastor Bill." He laughed but it was
forced.

Nothing
about this was funny. "I pretty much…ran out on him." Wow. He said
it.

Shit.
Not now. Not ever did he plan to put it like that.

"You're
not a runner," she said.

Well,
she didn't know him. "Cori…I am so far from perfect…you know that,
right?"

She
laughed, but she kept stroking his neck and he tried not to shiver.

"There're
restaurants at this exit," she said. "I'm sorry I have such a
one-track mind that your needs have been…ignored. God, I'm a total ass."

"Mothers,"
Jordan teased.

Things
lightened between them a little bit. He ordered fast food. At first she didn't
want to eat,
then
decided she'd take ice cream. He
scoffed at that and ordered her a meal and ice cream. She protested some, but
he could tell she liked it, too. He realized she had probably not been taken
care of since her father was killed.

While
they waited for their turn at the window she said, "If the people you love
aren't safe…nothing means anything."

He
stayed quiet, his ears straining.

"It's
like…you're spiritually emaciated and the world is cream…and you can't take any
of it in," she said, "not a dollop…not a lick."

He
waited, and her face was turned from him and she was staring out her window,
watching a family, a mom and dad loading two toddlers into their van.

"Sometimes…I
want to be them…or anyone…who doesn't know what it feels like…."

He yanked on her hand
now, to break her fixation on the little family. "Hey."

She
turned to him, and her eyes were shiny and she smiled.
"But…you.
You're my taste…my bite…."

"I'm
right here, you know," he said.

"You
are?"

"Yeah,"
he said.
"Right here."