Leaving Yesterday (17 page)

Kurt sat up and held out his arm to deflect the latest attack from his sister. “Okay, kiddo, that’s enough for now.” He stood up and looked at me, then drew me into a hug. “There now, it’s Mom’s turn for some Kurt love.”

“Me too.” Caroline threw her arms around both mine and Kurt’s waists. “Group hug.”

“Group hug it is.” Kurt and I both lowered our arms to include her.

After we were all hugged out, I looked down at Caroline. “I believe you have a little homework to finish up, don’t you?”

“Aw, Mom, Kurt’s here. I don’t want to do homework.”

“Well, I’ll be here for a while, so get it done now and I’ll take you on in a game of Battleship after dinner.”

“You’re on, except I want to play Guitar Hero.”

“Guitar Hero? I’m not sure I remember how to play.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.” She bounded up the stairs two at a time. I knew I would have to double-check the homework she was about to do, because in her haste, accuracy wouldn’t even be a consideration.

“So, come sit down. Tell me how things are going.”

He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a cream soda. “You want anything?”

“No thanks.”

“Things are good.” He pulled a glass out of the cupboard, filled it with ice, then came to sit at the kitchen table. He took a long sip, then looked at me. “It’s hard work up there. In fact, I’d say that working on a farm like that could convince a lot of kids who think they don’t want to go to college that maybe they do.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet.” Of course, Kurt had always been college bound before he started using. Just like Nick. His grades maybe hadn’t been quite as high, but they were still exceptional. “Are your transcripts coming together?”

He nodded. “I should be able to start classes part-time next semester.”

“Why only part-time? Don’t you want to buckle down and get it done?”

“Sure, I’d like to, but you know that money is an issue for me right now. I can’t afford not to work full-time.”

I thought back to our plans for our boys. The deal had always been that as long as they were in school full-time, we would pay tuition, room, and board. I couldn’t think of any reason that would change now. The only thing different was that it had been delayed by a few years. I pulled the envelope out of my purse. “Well, here’s a start.”

He hugged me. “Thanks, Mom. You have no idea how much it means to me that you believe in me.”

“Of course I believe in you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you are the greatest mother ever.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.

“Maybe your father and I could help a little with tuition.”

“No, that wouldn’t be right. But … while we’re on the subject anyway …” He patted the envelope. “This is great, and I know it’s asking a lot, but I could use just a little more money.”

“How much more?”

He looked up at me, then back down. “Another grand.”

“Kurt, that’s not a
little
more money.”

“I know, and this will be the last time I ask. I’m just about to get everything squared away. Hopefully, after I get a couple of paychecks ahead, I can get a car I don’t have to put so much into. All these repair bills.” He was pulling at his eyelashes again.

I looked at my son, the one who had returned to me after years of being away. I thought of the future that would be his if I hadn’t destroyed that bat, and I realized I was just glad to have him here with me.

“Okay, I’ll see if I can get some money out of one of the CDs.” I knew there would likely be a penalty for early withdrawal, but I would figure it out somehow.

It wasn’t until long after Kurt left that night, when I was tossing and turning in my king-sized bed, that something dawned on me. Him pulling his eyelashes. I’d noticed it both times when he asked for money and remembered him doing it as a boy. But until now I had forgotten when he’d done it. It used to be an almost certain sign that he wasn’t telling the complete truth. And the tone in his voice when he said I was the greatest mother in the world. I knew that sound. The sound of a used car salesman—the kind that will tell you anything to make the sale. Is that what my son had become?

Twenty-One

Rick’s truck pulled into my driveway late Thursday afternoon, making me wonder what treasure Caroline needed from her room. Whatever it was, I hoped Rick would wait for her in the truck. I just didn’t want to deal with him tonight.

As if reading my mind, he climbed out of his truck and started toward the door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. That man always had a singular ability to find the one thing I didn’t want him to do and then do it. With a flourish.

Caroline bounded up to me and gave me a hug. “Dad said he would take us both out to dinner tonight. Isn’t that the best?” She bounced up and down and clapped her hands, effectively ending any argument that I wanted to raise. “He said that you could choose the restaurant. Anywhere you want to go!”

I looked at the flowers in his hand, then cocked my eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?”

“Do I have to have an occasion to bring my wife flowers and to take my family out for a nice dinner?”

“Let’s just say, it happens with an infrequency that lends suspicion to this generous offer.” I knew I was being rude, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“Caroline, why don’t you go change into something nice for dinner, okay?” He watched until she disappeared into the house before he said, “Actually, I come bearing good news.” He held out the flowers and I took them.

“What kind of good news?”

“Kurt is no longer a suspect in the murder of Rudy Prince.” He actually looked down as he said this, a rare show of humility.

“How do you know this?”

“Bruce Thompson. He called me just a couple of hours ago and said they’ve got the guy in custody.”

“Someone else was arrested? I hadn’t heard that.”

“Of course not. I’m sure they haven’t officially announced it yet.”

“Then, why would he tell you something like that, before it was official?”

“I think we’ve spent enough time talking about it all that he knew I’d been eaten up over it.” He looked at the ground again. “He called me this afternoon to let me know.”

Part of me wanted to be thrilled over this news. To believe with all my heart that the guilty party was in jail and all our troubles were over. Maybe Kurt really was innocent.

The other part felt sick. The bat I’d burned was too deeply connected to the murder not to mean something.

I thought of Detective Thompson at the grocery store and at my grief seminar and even at church the other day. I thought about the fear his presence struck in my heart. “When will it be made public?” What I really wanted to know was, when would it be in the paper or on the news? I needed details, lots of them, but I couldn’t ask for them now without being obvious.

“I’m guessing tomorrow morning’s paper, but what do I know about it?” He shrugged. “That’s enough of that depressing talk.” He put his arm around my shoulder. It was the first time we’d touched in a long time. I pulled away.

“Where were you thinking of going to dinner?”

“Like Caroline said, you get to pick. Let’s see, as I recall Chuck’s was always your favorite place.”

“Chuck’s is too nice a place to take Caroline.” I thought of the years that he’d been so frugal about anywhere we took the kids for dinner. Chili’s was as nice as it ever got, and even that was rare. Besides, I was certain at this point that I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite, not until I knew the full details of the arrest.

“It would be good for her. A chance to practice her biggirl manners.”

“Caroline and big-girl manners in the same sentence?” We both laughed.

“She’s got to start learning sometime.” This was a huge concession for him to make, and I knew that he truly was trying to make amends. I supposed the least I could do was accept the gift.

“You’ve been right all along, Alisa,” he said. “I’m starting to realize that, because I’m not even listening to myself anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when I told you not to give him any money? Well, I loaned him three thousand dollars last week. He needed to have some work done on his car, some things like that. I told him it was a loan, but I don’t think I’ll let him pay me back. I think I’ll tell him just to apply the money toward school.” He stood looking at me, and I knew that he was waiting for me to say something positive, about his taking the right step.

What I really wanted to do was throw up. Instead I managed to say, “Well, I’m glad. That you’ve come to believe in him, I mean.” How I managed to say the words, I’ll never know.

He looked puzzled by the lack of enthusiasm in my answer, and I knew that he was. I certainly wasn’t going to explain it to him, though.

Kurt had been getting money to “fix his car” from both of us. I thought of the used car salesman voice, I thought of this new piece of information, and then my imagination went completely overboard picturing all the possibilities of what my son might be up to.

“So, as I was saying, dinner?”

“Sounds great.” I said it even though I didn’t want dinner. I wanted to confront my son and find out what he was really up to. And I wanted to find out what was happening with Rudy Prince’s murder investigation.

A good meal can be its own distraction, and Chuck’s desserts never fail to grab my attention. But by the time the last bite of cheesecake disappeared and our surprising evening was over, my mind went again to the information Rick had passed on. I was distracted when I said good-night to Rick and Caroline. Distracted as I sat down with the mail I hadn’t managed to open earlier. Finally, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go online and try to find some answers. But of course there was no news to be found yet. The police hadn’t made their official announcement about the arrest.

Still needing to kill more time before another pointless attempt at sleep, I opened my e-mail. There was only one item in the inbox. The subject line said simply Book Proposal Response.

My heart pounded as I considered what I might see when I opened this, and what I was prepared to do about it. If he was offering a contract, how could I possibly take it now? Then again, how could I possibly not take it?

I finally mustered the courage to left-click on the mouse.

Mrs. Stewart,

Thank you very much for your recent submission. I found your writing voice fresh and interesting, and obviously your personal experience and training qualify you in a unique way to write this book.

Unfortunately, however, at this time I am going to have to pass on this project. Grief books are an over-published niche at the moment, and while your speaking platform is developing, you aren’t able to bring a national profile we feel a new grief book would need. As well, there were concerns from several on our editorial team that the recent epilogue felt unrealistic and perhaps too new to be used.

Your writing does show promise, and I would encourage you to continue to build your platform and work toward publication.

I wish you the best in your career.

Dennis Mahan
Senior Acquisitions Editor

I closed the e-mail, relief and devastation warring inside me. With what I’d learned tonight, I couldn’t write the book, I knew that. But it meant more than just one more dream crushed. It also meant one less source of income if Rick and I divorced, adding worries to an already overwhelming load.

It occurred to me then, if editors who didn’t even know me or this situation could see the falseness in my “happy ending,” how could I continue trying to fool myself into believing it? Everything was a lie, and even perfect strangers could see that.

Twenty-Two

ARREST MADE IN BEATING DEATH OF LOCAL DRUG DEALER

The Friday morning headline in the paper confirmed what I already knew. What I both feared and craved.

The arrest would take the pressure off Kurt, and maybe it proved what I’d hoped all along—that he really was innocent. One less pressure point would mean one less thing that might drive him back to his old habits. If he were no longer a suspect, then there was one issue of his life taken care of.

Except …

Someone else was in jail right now. Someone who might very well be innocent. Or maybe not? I had to read the article.

His name was Gary Singer. He was twenty-five years old and had been a hard drug user since his mid-teens. He had an impressive list of previous arrests, everything from drug-related issues to breaking and entering, theft, and assault. I read the story.

This type of violence is apparently nothing new to Mr. Singer. He was arrested on assault charges last year. Allegedly, he saw his girlfriend talking to another man and flew into a rage. He beat the man unconscious and his girlfriend sustained three broken ribs before police arrived to break up the carnage. Witnesses at the scene were quoted as saying he “was like a crazed animal.”

A Santa Barbara couple took Mr. Singer into their home two years ago, attempting to help him begin a new life. Within the week, he left the home, taking over $10,000 worth of valuables with him and leaving the man with a concussion.