Twilight (41 page)

“Does it include a get-out-of-jail-free card?”

Reggie laughed. “I doubt it, but at least you know He’ll be right there with you.”

Smiling, Cal leaned back into the couch. “Well, misery loves company.”

“You can’t do this alone, Cal. You gotta find you a network, a church, a support system to uphold you when the enemy tries to steal your victory.”

Cal’s throat worked. “You said Wednesdays and Saturdays?”

Reggie read Cal’s thought. “That’s right. At Brother Lucas’s house. And he’s the Sunday pastor of a small fellowship, about twice those that meet for prayer.”

“You and Suanne are there?”

“You know it. And speaking of which, she’s holding dinner for us. Lasagna, if I smelled right.”

Cal smiled. “Sounds like heaven if I know Suanne.”

Reggie gripped his shoulder. “Amen, bro. Amen.”

Weren’t things bad enough? Did the children have to make it worse?
Laurie looked from Maddie’s face to Luke’s, both mouths tremulous and insistent, eyes pleading. She couldn’t. She couldn’t give them what they wanted. “Luke, some things are complicated. You just have to trust me.”

Eyes condemning, he looked away, but Maddie wasn’t so compliant.

“I want to.” She stomped her foot. “Fluffy has to say good-bye.”

Maddie had no idea what she was asking. To face Cal after … Laurie pressed her fingertips to her forehead and glanced up at Mother. For once she seemed to have no opinion, at least not one she would share. What possible good would it do to see Cal? To let the children wring his heart as she knew they would?

She had to leave, had to bring Brian’s body to his family, see to all the other affairs, the house, the will … Sergeant Danson had released her to go, released the body for burial. Everything Brian had was hers, or so she suspected. They’d laid out their wills accordingly. Death didn’t activate the prenuptial agreement as divorce would have. His estate was hers and the children’s, and she had to see to all of it. And she was glad. She couldn’t get out of Montrose fast enough. But Luke and Maddie …

“Please, Mommy?” Luke touched her shoulder. “We didn’t get to say good-bye to Daddy.”

Laurie’s heart seized. He was cruel, this child of hers, cruel and unfair. No, she was the unfair one. Luke was only earnest, only needing. He’d taken Brian’s death stoically, too stoically. Maybe in some way he needed Cal in order to act out his grieving for his daddy. Cal would understand. He’d suffer his own pain to help them through theirs.

She sighed. “All right. I’ll call. But he might not … be able to.”

Maddie beamed. “I’ll get Fluffy!” She ran to the den.

“He’ll see us!” Luke chorused. “I know he will.”

Laurie sighed. Of course he would.

No promises, no guarantees, no expectations, no disappointment. Cal left the dishes in the sink. Neither had he shaved, but the single day’s growth wasn’t as disreputable as it might have been. Either way it didn’t matter. Laurie had told him plainly it was the children who wanted to come.

They needed closure, she’d said. Closure. He drew a breath, caught it at the point of pain, and released it slowly. The problem would be seeing her. How could he control the electric connection that had jolted his system at the sound of her voice over the phone?

Why did he open himself time after time to be electr ified, burned, electrified, and burned out. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t right. But what could he do? Say no to two little children who had to be hurting and confused? He rubbed his jaw, went to the closet, and pulled out the box.

He opened the flaps and dug through until he found the squirrel hand puppet and the water gun he’d used in a skit about safety around power lines. They would do. He had nothing for Laurie, but she’d accept nothing he had anyway. He pulled on his jacket, as it wasn’t cold enough for his heavy coat, and stuffed the toys into the pockets.

Better to meet them on neutral ground, to make it easier for Laurie. He went down as the car pulled into the yard. Laurie climbed out and opened the back door. Maddie was first, dressed in a woolly blue jacket with pink lambs across the waist. Her legs in the pink leggings were impossibly small and shapely. Perfect legs on a perfect child.

Clutching the stuffed dog he’d given her, she ran to him, her smile piercing his control as she held up her arms. Cal caught her up, closing his eyes against the pain, both the ribs and the heartache. He remembered her snuggled next to him at the cabin, her fear melting away as he soothed her. He recalled her laugh, and the way she’d balanced on his knee and hooked her arm around his neck. He wanted to be there for her, to be something to her.

What was he trying to prove anyway? To be to one little girl the hero he couldn’t be to another? Or was it because she was Laurie’s, because he’d envisioned it differently? Maddie’s palm against the back of his neck had a spongy warmth and softness that made tears burn behind his lids.

Cal opened his eyes and looked at Laurie. She wore an old flannel shirt over a turtleneck, and the knee of her jeans was frayed through. With no makeup and her hair in a ponytail, she looked like she had all those years ago when he’d gone to pick up his schedule and had first seen her. This was difficult for her, he could tell.

Luke hung back at her side, and Cal looked down at him. He stooped and let Maddie down, then held a hand out to Luke. Luke came slowly. Cal could only guess the boy’s confusion and grief. He gripped him by the shoulder and brought him into his arms.

Luke circled his neck and squeezed. “I wish you were coming with us.”

Cal’s throat tightened. “I don’t know what to say to that, buddy.”

“Could you ask Mommy?”

Cal glanced up at Laurie, standing close enough now that he could smell her. Giorgio, not Beautiful. Cal studied her, trying not to memorize the line of her cheek, the shape of her eyes, the soft quiver of her lips. “I already did, Luke.”

Laurie turned away.

Luke started to cry, an almost silent crying so wrenching Cal held him close, fighting tears of his own. “You’ll be okay, Luke. You’ll be okay.”

Now Maddie was crying and pressing close. The tears crested in Cal’s eyes. Well, what did he have to lose? He stopped fighting them and pressed his face to the children’s heads. “You’ll be all right,” he said again, rubbing his tears into their hair and just holding them. But would
he
? He stood and led them back to the car, saw them into the seat, and produced the toys. He smiled grimly at Maddie gripping the life out of the squirrel as he closed the door.

Laurie’s breath came sharply as he turned to her, and tears ran from her eyes as well. “I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”

“I do. I know what you need. And it’s not me.”

She searched his face, questioning.

“You need to know who you are to God.” Even as he said it, the truth of it settled inside him. Laurie didn’t need him. She never had. And as long as he kept trying to be what he couldn’t, she’d never find what she did need.

A fresh tear broke free and started down her cheek. He bent his head, and his mouth lingered on her lips, savoring one last contact, one moment of might-have-been. Then he stepped away.

20

T
O HAVE THAT SENSE OF ONE’S

INTRINSIC WORTH WHICH CONSTITUTES SELF-RESPECT IS POTENTIALLY

TO HAVE EVERYTHING: THE ABILITY TO DISCRIMINATE, TO LOVE

AND TO REMAIN INDIFFERENT. TO LACK IT IS TO BE LOCKED WITHIN

ONESELF, PARADOXICALLY INCAPABLE OF EITHER LOVE OR INDIFFERENCE.

Joan Didion

C
AL ADDED HIS BARITONE to Cissy’s warbling and Mildred’s monotone rendition of “O Christmas Tree” as Ray reached the tin star with lighted tips to the top of the white fir. Looking at the tree, hung with antique glass and beaded ornaments, he had to agree with Mildred that it was a little thin. But considering his condition, they were lucky to have a tree at all.

After Mildred took the story to the newspaper, word had spread about Ray’s part in Laurie’s rescue, and the way he sent the drug dealers running with Mildred’s shotgun. He was too busy these days to cut a tree for his aunts, and feeling a little self-important about non-paying jobs. He’d even had the luxury of turning down a job or two. Cal hoped it wouldn’t go to his head; then again, he hoped it would. Ray needed a little confidence, a chance to realize his worth. Cal had taken him along to Reggie’s group where they’d loved him up like some lost relation. Ray had beamed like the star he now shoved into place.

With the star set, Ray turned with a grin and added his tenor to the final refrain. It was strange to hear the high, clear voice coming from someone Ray’s size, but maybe his vocal cords, like his brain, had stayed at a more youthful stage. Cal wouldn’t have him any other way. Ray soared to a high harmony that was near angelic, and Cal felt his own chest swell with only minor discomfort.

Cissy clapped her hands. “It’s a darling tree. Isn’t it, Millie?”

“It’s thin as a rail. Next time it’ll be a twig.”

Cal straightened a branch that sagged again as soon as he released it. “Next year it’ll be the grandest tree you’ve ever seen. Once I can swing an ax again.”

“Humph. If you can stay alive that long.”

He couldn’t miss the warmth in Mildred’s eyes even though she turned away to hide it. Some switch had turned on in her, maybe stemming from her part in the goings-on, from having done something adventurous. Cal hadn’t revealed much to Danson, only her care for the children in his absence. He might have given credit where credit was due, but Danson was mad enough to implicate her in obstruction as well. He’d been careful with what he said about Ray, as well. Cissy hadn’t been in on enough to carry any responsibility, but for some reason, they all felt thick as thieves. Cal couldn’t have done it without them.

He looked around the room. They were like family, this mismatched group. His family. Life could be worse. Probably would be when it all came down. But right now a powerful love for each person there made him content. God was filling in the gaps, and whatever happened, it was in the Big Man’s hands.

The smell of the turkey in the oven was wonderful, and he gladly followed the women to the table set with Mildred’s and Cissy’s grandmother’s china. The purple turkey pattern didn’t do much for him, but he’d been informed that it was invaluable. He’d take their word for it.

Cal pulled out a chair but stopped when a knock came at the door. He glanced up at Mildred. “Expecting someone else?”

“Nope.”

Cissy sidled around him to answer the door, and Cal tensed at the sound of Chuck Danson’s voice in the entry. What on earth was he doing there on Christmas Day? Didn’t the man ever give it a break? A moment later Danson followed Cissy in and narrowed his gaze to Cal.

Cal drew himself up. “I haven’t broken bail. I don’t have so much as a parking ticket.” And there was no way he would miss Christmas dinner when he’d been smelling it these last four hours.

If he looked defensive, Danson looked downright uncomfortable. Of course, Mildred had him pinned in her stare. Cal would have pitied anyone else.

“Well?” Mildred asked.

Danson turned and motioned Pete Rawlings into the room. Pete dropped a large canvas sack to the floor.

Cal looked from the bag to Danson. “What’s this?”

“Part of the nearly two thousand letters from the people of Montrose, some twelve hundred of them from school children handwritten on notebook paper, pleading for leniency on your behalf. The general idea being that in light of your service to the community and the extenuating circumstances of your misconduct, charges against you should be dropped.”

Cal knew better than to think public opinion would sway Danson, especially when he recalled that Cal had put him down like a baby with two blows. But what was this Miracle-on—34th-Street charade?

“I don’t care beans about what’s in those letters, but some highand-mighty folks don’t want this business going to trial.”

Cal frowned. “What high-and-mighty folks?”

“The Prelanes out in L.A. Some senator.”

Ex-senator, but Cal didn’t say so. Why would Laurie’s in-laws care what happened to him?