The Fall and Rise of Kade Hart: A Hart Brothers Novel (6 page)

“Oh, no. I also run some Narcotics Anonymous
meetings. That’s how I met Father Anthony, like I told you. We have
meetings all over the place and St. John the Baptist is one of the
places that allows us the use of one of their rooms.”

“I remember you telling me that. How many
classes do you teach?”

He laughs. “They’re not classes. They’re
meetings and I don’t really teach anything. I just moderate them,
keep things going, bring up topics to discuss. Things that addicts
have issues with, that type of thing. As someone in recovery, it’s
key to have a mentor-type person you can go to if you find yourself
in a situation where you think you may fall off the wagon. That’s
what NA is all about. Plus it helps to have a place to vent, to
talk about your problems with others who are experiencing the same
things you are.”

“What drug were you on?”

“Not drug, drugs. All of them. Anything I
could get my dirty paws on.”

“What was it like?” I ask.

“What was what like?”

“Withdrawal?”

He rubs his neck. Then his crystal clear
blue eyes lock with mine and he says, “It was like someone was
clawing my intestines out over a period of months. After that pain
left, the psychological need was still there. It fucks with your
head. Makes you want to rip your hair out and slice your skin open
until you bleed. It invades your dreams, turning them into
nightmares. And the thing about it is, you know you can make it all
go away with just one little fix. One hit off the pipe, or one
little injection.” As he speaks, his eyes darken with shadows of
unknown ghosts. What he doesn’t know is I can completely relate
because that’s exactly how I’ve felt for the last two years, minus
the cravings. “It eases up after a time, but it’s so gradual that
you don’t notice it. It takes for-fucking-ever. In the meantime you
think you’re going insane. Truly insane. In the beginning, I
scratched my arms so badly they had to put me in a straight
jacket.” He pushes up his sleeves to show me the scars. “You have
to look for them under the ink. It’s why I got the sleeve—to cover
the scars. Emmalia, you don’t ever want to go down that dark, ugly
road. I’ve been to hell and back twice now. Once, because of my
father, the second, withdrawing from drugs. In both cases I wanted
to die. They say the devil doesn’t live here. I call bullshit on
that. He’s lived with me for almost my whole life. I fight demons
every day, sleeping or awake.”

He’s right. I know the devil lives here,
too. He took my family away from me. I still see the blood
everywhere and their lifeless bodies lying on the floor. My throat
is thick with emotion as I say, “I’m terribly sorry you suffered so
much. I pray your life is happy now.”

The left corner of his mouth turns up
slightly, and then he says, “I guess I need to give you a singing
lesson, don’t I?”

“I guess you do.”

Ethel sits on my lap and I put her on the
floor. I keep a close watch on her as she sniffs around. “Is this
okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Do you read music?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

In order to keep Ethel from being a
distraction, I attach a leash to her harness and then I pay close
attention to Kade. He takes a seat at the piano and hits two notes.
Then he asks if the first or second was higher. I tell him. He
repeats this over and over. Some are the same to me, some
different, and I tell him what I think. Then he hits a series of
keys and asks me if the sound gets higher or lower as he plays. I
tell him. He does this several times. Afterward, he does the same
thing on a guitar and then the flute.

“You’re not tone deaf. You missed some, but
you got the majority.”

A smile spreads across my face.
“Really?”

“Yeah. There are very few true tone deaf
people out there. Most just don’t have enough exposure to music to
have correct pitch identity. I can help with that, but you may not
like some of what I’m going to recommend.”

“What?”

“On Saturdays, I just started teaching a
group of ten-year-old giggly girls recorder lessons. None of them
read music, so it would be the perfect place for you to start. But
don’t make that face yet.”

“What face?”

“You look like you just swallowed a dozen
lemons.”

“Sorry.” He’s offering to help and I act
like a child.

“Here’s the thing. The more you’re exposed
to music, as in learning how to read and play it, the more you’ll
recognize the proper pitch for the notes. That will make all the
difference in the world when you sing. So what I want for you to do
right now is sing ‘Do Re Mi’ the best you can. I’m not judging you;
I just need to get an idea of where you stand.”

“You mean that song that goes ‘Doe a
deer’?”

“The very same.”

“Only if you promise not to hate me in the
morning.”

His eyes bug open and he laughs. “Isn’t that
a bit odd, coming from a nun?”

“No, because I’m a novice.”

“Uh huh. You ready?” He takes a seat at the
piano and hits a key. I suppose that’s where he wants me to
begin.

My insides are cringing as I sing. My face
heats because I know how utterly awful I am. It’s strange because
my hands are all sweaty, too. I rub them on my pants when I’m
done.

“Please don’t make me do that again.”

“Emmalia, you and I are going to be doing
this a lot. You’re going to have to lose your shyness over it.”

“Ugh. It’s so embarrassing.” I wrap my arms
around myself. I feel so awkward, standing next to the piano, in my
frumpy clothes and icky haircut. There was a time when I was
halfway cute and fashionable. I need to forget about all that, but
it’s hard when I look at Kade. He reminds me of my past and how
things were back then. When I had a life, a boyfriend, a family.
The urge to cry nails me and it happens so fast and hard I have to
bite down on my lips to stop it.

“Are you okay?”

“Can I use your restroom?” I barely get the
words out without sobbing. Pull it together Jules.

“Sure. Through there and the first door to
the left.” I follow the direction he points, almost dragging poor
little Ethel. When I realize what I’m doing, I stoop down to pick
her up. By the time I get to the powder room, my face is wet and
I’m quivering.

My butt drops to the toilet and I grab a
handful of toilet paper, dabbing at my wet cheeks. Ethel sits on
the floor, looking at up me with her big black eyes. “Two pitiful
souls, aren’t we?” I pick her up and snuggle her under my chin.
What the heck came over me? I haven’t had a reaction like that in a
long time. After I splash some water on my face, I dry off again
and head back out.

“Everything okay?” Kade asks. He’s very
polite.

“Yes, fine, thank you.”

He scrutinizes me, and I’m sure he thinks
I’m hiding something, which I am.

“So, what next, teacher?”

“We work together to identify areas to
improve upon, but I think your biggest help will be with learning
music. So take a seat.” He pats the place next to him on the
bench.

He has a sheet of music open and it looks
very simple. He begins to explain it to me and as he does, he plays
the corresponding notes on the keyboard. Then he asks me to hum it.
He repeats this over and over. “What you will learn is how a ‘C’
sounds. It’s not going to happen fast, so I don’t want your
expectations to be out of bounds.”

“Okay.”

“I think if I have you come here a couple of
times a week, and add those recorder lessons in, you’ll be chirping
like a bird.”

“Don’t tease me, please.”

“I’m not. Your voice is fine. It’s just off
key sometimes. You’ll learn the notes and soon Sister Helena will
be smiling.”

“That will make her happy, indeed.”

“Emmalia, what will make you happy?”

His question catches me off guard.
“Huh?”

“You try to hide your sadness, but I can see
it. I’m an NA counselor. I’m used to keeping secrets. Why are you
sad? You can talk to me.”

Deflect and redirect. “Thank you for caring
enough to ask, but what makes you think I’m sad?”

“I deal with sad people all the time. I
guess you can say your sadness meter is registering high. And I’d
like to make another observation. You don’t fit the profile.”

“Fit the profile?”

“Of a nun.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re a professional nun
profiler?”

He laughs. “You have me there. No, I admit I
am not. But all the nuns I’ve ever known or seen don’t look like
you.”

“Now, you’re being judgmental. And by your
comment, I take it you’ve been hanging around with nuns a lot in
your past.”

He laughs again. “You’re right. Please
forgive me because that was being a bit judgey. If you ever need to
talk about what has made you so sad, you can talk to me. What you
tell me will stay with me. And just for the record, you’re the
first nun I’ve ever hung out with.”

“Novice, not nun. And thanks. So are we
finished for today?”

“Yes. Can you come back on …” he pulls out
his phone and checks his calendar. “Wednesday afternoon, say at
four?”

Now it’s my turn to check my calendar. But
mine is the old fashioned kind. I don’t even have a cell phone. He
comments on this.

“No phone?”

“No. Sorry. If you ever need to cancel, you
can call the convent or the school. They post messages on the
bulletin board in the offices of both.” I give him both
numbers.

“Hmm. Sometimes I have an emergency pop up
with one of the addicts.”

“It’s okay.” I grin. “It’s not like I’m
paying you or anything. It’s very kind of you to do this as it is.
Can we do Thursday instead of Wednesday? I’m at the shelter on
Wednesday afternoon.”

“Okay, but I have a meeting on Thursday that
starts at five-thirty, so I’ll have to leave here at five.”

“That’s fine.”

He walks Ethel and me to the door. “Good
luck with Ethel and Sister Helena.”

“I don’t need luck. I need lots of prayers
or maybe a miracle. I can’t stand the thought of her … well, you
know.” I shudder.

When I get to the porch, he asks where my
car is.

“I walked.”

“You walked? All the way from the
convent?”

“It’s not that far.”

“But where’s the shelter?”

“I’m fine.” I look around and notice the sky
is leaden, the clouds heavy with impending rain.

“I’ll drive you. Give me a sec.”

He joins me on the porch a bit later and I
follow him to a truck parked in his driveway. The fact that he
drives a huge truck makes me want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, I
say, “I didn’t take you for a trucker.”

“A trucker, huh?”

“Yeah, I figured you’d drive a fancy sports
car.”

“No, but you just nailed both of my
brothers. I’m the practical one. This thing is great in snow, mud,
and I can haul a ton of stuff in it.”

“I can see that. Do you find yourself
hauling tons of stuff then?”

He glances at me and grins. “Actually, yes.
For the business. I’m always moving stuff in and out, or helping
someone move in and out.”

“Makes sense.”

“So where’s the shelter?”

I direct him and when we pull up, he asks,
“Were you going to walk home from here, too?”

Laughing, I answer, “I do it all the
time.”

“No car?”

“No car.” I make a funny face. “That’s the
thing about nuns. We don’t own a lot. We give up our worldly
possessions and survive on a meager income, you see.”

“Hmm. I wasn’t aware of that. Never gave it
much thought.”

“So, thanks for everything. I appreciate
your help, Kade.”

“I’ll wait.”

“What?”

“Take Ethel, and I’ll wait. I’ll drive you
back to the church.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I wouldn’t feel right having
you walk.”

“But, I do it every day just about.”

“Don’t argue with me. You’ll always lose.
Now get. I’ll be waiting.”

He stares at me and I know he’s serious. I
pick up Ethel, who’s wagging her tail at Kade, and say, “Come on,
fluff ball. Time to put you back in your cage.” I snuggle her fur
up against my chin as I carry her inside. I sure hope Sister Helena
will let me keep her. A few people try to engage me in conversation
on my way out, but I tell them I have a ride waiting outside.

When I climb back in Kade’s monster truck,
he says, “You really love that little puppy, don’t you?”

“What’s not to love? She’s so sweet, it’s
unreal. I don’t understand why no one has adopted her yet.”

We drive the rest of the way in silence.
When we get to the church, he asks if there’s a way to the convent.
I direct him around the one of the side streets and he pulls up to
the building.

“What’s it like in there?”

“Extremely drab compared to your place.” And
my old home, too.

“Why do you do it?” he asks.

“You’re very curious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. I just can’t comprehend
dedicating my life like that.”

“But you have, only in a different way.
Yours is to addicts. Mine is to God. Good night, Kade.”

Kade

Ethel sits on Emmalia’s lap yapping, as I
watch the two of them from my seat on the piano bench, and I feel
the sour look take over my face. Only it isn’t the off key pitch
that’s given me that expression.

“No, for the hundredth time. I can’t have a
dog.”

“Please, Kade. She only has days left. I
don’t know who else to ask. I’ve run out of options. Be my
Obi-Wan.”

“Huh?”

“You know. Obi-Wan Kenobi? You’re my only
hope?” She offers me a shaky laugh.

I sigh. “Emmalia, I’m never here. She would
be left alone so much.”

“She could be a therapy dog. You could take
her everywhere with you.”

“What did Sister Helena say?” I can only
imagine the stern, aged penguin, rattling off dozens of
excuses.