Past Heaven (10 page)

“Daddy,” Hayden whispered, looking down at the floor.

“Yes, Dad.” I looked at each somber face, all of us remembering our Jack. “Mr. Carter, but you can call him Reynolds, asked me if I would help him write the screenplay to the movie. You know how I was telling you that I was going to start working soon? Well, he’s paying me to help him write it each day.” I smiled, satisfied that I had explained everything.

“I thought you were getting a real job?” Griffin scowled, and my shoulders slumped.

“Being your mother has been a real job, Griff. The good thing about working with Reynolds is that he’s agreed to work here. So if you guys get sick or have a day off school, I can still be here.”

“Great. Now we’re going to have to see him every day?” Griffin kicked the trashcan, knocking it over and spilling the papers out onto the floor.

Grayson smiled at me and bent to pick up the trash. “That’s great, Mom! He seems cool, and that’s an awesome job to have, right?”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “So what? Now we have to be friends with him?”

I knelt next to Griffin and rubbed his knee. “Nope. You have plenty of friends. You do not need to be friends with him. But Reynolds is doing something that will honor your father’s memory. That means so much to me. People will learn what an amazing man your dad was. For those reasons, I’m asking you boys if you are okay with this. Will you be okay with me helping to make a movie about your dad?”

Hayden jumped into my arms. “Course! I love movies!”

Grayson gave me a half smile. “Sounds like a plan, Mom.”

Griffin stared out the window, withdrawn into himself.

“Griff?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Whatever. He better do a good job.”

I hugged Griffin tightly to my chest until he squirmed and pulled away. “Thanks, guys.” With their acceptance, I was ready to give this a real chance.

The doorbell rang at 10:01 the next morning. Reynolds stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Welcome!” I greeted him as he followed me into the kitchen. “You’re punctual.” I was thrilled I had gotten a chance to run and shower before he got here. I decided that today would be a better day, and I had put more effort into getting dressed. I even put on a push-up bra that I hadn't worn in ages. I didn't look Hollywood-worthy, but I felt more comfortable sharing a workplace with a super star.

“You did say after ten, and I’m pumped to get started.” His eyes danced with passion.

I poured his coffee, stealing a peek up at him as he settled his laptop on the table. A warm flush tickled my neck, and I bit back the smile on my face. He was incredibly good looking. After Jack and I had gotten together, I hadn’t paid much attention to other men. I wasn’t one of those women who gawked at good-looking men. That behavior wasn’t right for a wife and mother of three. But I was a single mother of three now and Reynolds Carter was in my kitchen. My eyes were drawn to him like a magnet. I couldn’t get over how handsome he was. I needed to rein in my fan-girl crushing before it humiliated me.

I set the coffee pot down and stretched my neck, noticing the definition of his muscles under his tight-fitting navy polo. The sprinkling of his chest hair that snuck out of the top forced me to duck my head in shameful delight. Except that now my eyes were on his jeans; the snug jeans that hung low on his trim hips. I was a goner. I was star struck and needed to get it the fuck together. I straightened in my chair but not before I got a glimpse of his brown leather flip-flops. Even his bare feet were sexy. I was used to seeing suburban thirty-forty year old dads. They looked nothing like this.

Nothing. At all. Like this.

“Can you skim over my notes from yesterday and see if I got everything right?” Reynolds pushed his laptop over to me, and I read his notes, but stole a glance every now and again. He watched me with a mischievous grin on his face.

He had dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray, and it was cut in a short, messy style. It was probably a bit young for him, but hell if he didn’t pull it off.

I finished his pages of notes and handed him the laptop. “Looks right on so far. Everything’s correct.” I nodded and sat back in the chair. I was shocked that he was not only gorgeous, but also a nice guy. I didn’t get any of the entitled attitude I had expected. He was an all-around pleasant sight in my sunny kitchen. “So what’s next? Should I continue where I left off? You want to get the story, and then we can work it into the screenplay, right?”

“Yes, please go on. If you’re ready, so am I.” Reynolds took a big drink of coffee and then bit into a croissant from the basket on the table.

“So we were down to one last state-run institution in Maryland at this point. Don’t let me mislead you, Reynolds. Plenty of privately run centers are very much institutions. Jack’s main goal was to start with the ones that the state funded and direct that funding toward smaller group homes with better care for the residents and more accountability for administration and staff.” Reynolds nodded while he typed away. Even his typing had a catchy rhythm and his fingers made me wonder about the myth about men based on the size of their hands.

Sipping my coffee, I waited for him to catch up. I had to stop objectifying him, but I couldn’t deny that I liked him. He seemed genuine.
Focus, Liz, on the topic at hand. Institutions and Jack. My God, Jack.

“The unbelievable part was how many people were against the institutions closing. You’d think when stories came out reporting about the neglect, abhorrent conditions, and physical and sexual abuse, that we would have unanimous support for the closures, right?” I cringed, thinking about the uphill fight we had endured—that Jack ultimately gave his life for. “We realized the problem was that unions were against the closures. No institutions meant no jobs. The saddest part was that even some parents fought us. The issues were so much more complicated than we saw at face value.”

Reynolds stopped typing, and his jaw dropped. “I’m sorry. What?” He lowered the screen and leaned forward. “How on earth could the parents be against this? I’m not a parent. I have no clue about how that feels, but I couldn’t imagine how anyone who loved their child would want them to stay in any place where they were being mistreated.”

“You know, nowadays our society is open to accepting people with all kinds of issues. In the not-so-distant past, if a mother gave birth to a child with Cerebral Palsy or Down syndrome, the child would go from the hospital straight to an institution.”

Reynolds sat quietly, staring out the window into the backyard. His jaw was clenched, and his posture was rigid, as he nodded or shook his head with every word I spoke.

The back story was critical to understanding who Jack was, so I pressed on with the information. “Some parents would sever all contact with their children. This breaks my heart, both as a mother and a sister. I can’t imagine my life without my brother. But I can’t judge those who made the hard choice. The issue for some parents was fear that they wouldn’t know what to do or where to get support, and ultimately, they feared failing their child.”

Reynolds turned his gaze back to me. His eyes were rimmed red and his voice was solemn. “I hear you. Like I said, I’m not a parent, and I’ve never been in that situation, but I think I understand it to an extent. I get it.” Reynolds looked down at his coffee cup and shook his head. “What I don’t get is, finding out about the abuse or neglect and still choosing to keep their child there. At some point, don’t you have to stop being afraid and do what’s right? Weren’t the people at Jack’s agency ready to help those parents?”

“Well, the mission of the Warren agency was not only to lobby the state legislature for funds, but also to raise money privately so that those supports would be in place for every family that came looking for help.” I toyed with the handle on my mug, lost in my own thoughts and mixed emotions. “The agency has always hired people to provide respite care for parents who had young children with severe disabilities. They’ve hired transportation and supervision for adults with disabilities to go on vacation; some saw the ocean for the first time in their lives. The Warren agency provides so much help for so many people, but they’re always struggling with the funding issues.”

Reynolds jumped in with enthusiasm. “This movie could help with that by making corporations and individuals who struggle to find the best charities, know where to donate their money. We will bring agencies like this to their attention. Not to mention the money that actors, producers, and directors have. If even a few people take these agencies on as pet projects, a lot of money could be raised easily.” Reynolds’ excitement was contagious, and I saw a light in all of this tragedy. It was almost as if he had embraced Jack’s vision. He understood.

“That would be amazing,” I nodded as I picked on a croissant. “So back to the parents. The last institution Jack helped close, the Caldwell Center, had begun the process of shutting down. There were some very vocal and upset parents. Most of it stemmed, I think, from fear of the unknown. Some—one, in particular—were afraid that funding would eventually be cut and their children would be forced to move back home.”

My heart sunk in my chest. Wells wheeling his daughter into that hotel ballroom replayed in my head. “Jack tried to explain all of that to this…this…” I swallowed hard and brought my hand to my neck. “This
man
, if I have to call him that. Jack tried to explain to him, that guaranteed funding and placements were available for all of Caldwell’s residents. Hundreds of other adults were on waiting lists for group homes in Maryland, but at least they were in the safe care of their families. Those living in the institutions were the first priority for placements.”

I stood up and paced, anger buzzing inside of me with a force I couldn’t contain. My face hardened, an expression I knew I wore when discussing the loss of Jack. “The Caldwell Center was set to close on November twenty-sixth. On the eighteenth, the agency had their annual awards ceremony; one of Jack’s favorite nights of the year.” I took a breath and let Jack’s smile visit me once again. “He’d get to stand in front of a room full of people who felt the same way he did about individuals with disabilities. Then he’d get to recognize them for their top-notch work. Jack loved to celebrate the achievements of his staff.” I braced myself against the counter, bitterness making her daily visit. “But he was never recognized in the same way. Jack worked harder than anyone else, but because he was the leader, he never got the thanks he deserved.” I wiped the tears that ran down my cheeks. Reynolds came behind me and handed me a tissue.

“He will be recognized, Liz.” My body calmed at the sound of his smooth voice. I turned around and met his gentle eyes. “He will. That’s why we’re doing this. I promise you.”

I nodded and wiped my eyes again as we both sat back down at the table. “Jack was on stage when Robert Wells barged in. Wells was, by far, the strongest parental opponent of the closures.” The mere thought of Wells was like a vice grip around my throat. “It’s very difficult for me to talk about him, but I know he’ll be a crucial character in the screenplay.”

Reynolds’ brow furrowed, and he grimaced before agreeing with me. “Unfortunately, yes. Do you have any information about his background?”

“I knew nothing about him before that night, but in the weeks after Jack’s death, I was obsessed with finding out everything I could about Robert Wells. I learned that his wife had died in childbirth. Amanda, his daughter, was born with many health problems from a traumatic birth injury.” I rubbed my temples, hoping to ward off the headache building behind my eyes. “Wells put his daughter into the Caldwell Center, but he didn’t abandon her. According to the center’s records, he visited her every Saturday for hours. Amanda couldn’t communicate at all. She was one of the most severely disabled clients in the center. He would sit and read and talk to her. The staff continually told me how shocked they were that he had done this because that was not the same man who showed up at the awards banquet.” The image of his disheveled and grungy appearance was seared in my memory. “He looked like he had a hard time caring for himself.”

“What the hell happened, then? So he just snapped?” Reynolds threw his hands up in a questioning gesture, then rested them on his head.

I shrugged, not really knowing the answer to that question. “I assume that he was scared. He hadn’t been responsible for a single day of his daughter’s life which was filled with feeding tubes, diaper changes, dressing, and medication. Not that he would have had to, mind you. Jack would never have let Amanda fall through the cracks, but Robert Wells didn’t trust the agency.”

“So then he worried that if he was left to care for her not knowing how to do it, he could mess up and hurt her.” Reynolds rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. His eyes squinted as if he was trying to understand the complexity of the issue. “It probably hit him for the first time how ill-equipped he was to take care of her and how overwhelmed he was with needs he didn’t understand.”

“Exactly.” I held the coffee mug against my lips. The emotion of that horrible evening crept around my heart, strangling it like a weed. I inhaled and slowly let it out, preparing myself for what was to come. Getting this part out would drain me, but it was important that I retell Jack’s murder with composure. I couldn’t leave out anything. I had to share the terror of that night and the enormity of the loss that had occurred. Jack deserved that.