Window of Guilt (13 page)

Ryan’s glance following her movements. “What d’ya need?”

“Water bottle.”

“Got the van cleaned yesterday.” He re-focused on the empty road before them. “Listen, I apologize for being such a jerk this morning. It’s not the end of the world you came along.”

“Apology accepted. Did you ever read that old John Gray book,
Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus
?”

“Laurie mentioned it to me about a year into our marriage.”

“The book discusses how men and women react differently to a given stimulus. For example, a guy buys his girlfriend an expensive engagement ring. While in a public bathroom, she sets the ring on the sink and washes her hands. She dries her hands at the paper towel dispenser, then turns back to the sink. But her ring is nowhere in sight. What does she do?”

Ryan glanced at her, then back at the road. “No clue.”

“She scans the other sinks, checks the floor, then asks everyone in sight if they’ve seen the ring.”

“A guy would never remove the ring in the first place, that is, unless he was having an affair.” Ryan laughed ruefully.

Mitzy eyed Ryan’s pinkie. A gold band still graced his finger. “Just answer the question.”

“I’d search the place.”

“Would you tell your wife you lost the gift?”

“No way! She’d have my balls for supper.”

“Then what?”

“I’d retreat to my room and attempt to problem solve the situation.”

“Approximately how long would that take you?”

“The rest of my life.”

“Would you seek the help of a trusted friend or family member?”

Ryan shook his head. “I wouldn’t want anyone to laugh at me for being stupid enough to lose the ring in the first place.”

“So what would you do?”

“First, I’d hire a detective, depleting the already low capital in my checking account. If that proved fruitless, I’d devise a way to painlessly kill myself.”

“All this time, never sharing your inner turmoil with your wife.”

Ryan nodded.

“A woman would solicit a variety of opinions before making a decision.”

“You’re telling me this why?” Ryan asked quizzically.

Mitzy paused, then said gently, “Sometimes when a serious decision needs to be made, the first approach is helpful.”

“The decision to kill myself?”

Mitzy punched his shoulder. “The decision that’s important enough to ditch your family on this holy day.”

16

Laurie pulled into the crowded parking lot and followed the security officers’ hand signals around to the back of the temple. Shirley Maven chattered away as Laurie switched off the ignition on the Mazda. It had only been a fifteen-minute ride, but her ears were already busting at their seams.

“You missed a rockin’ and rollin’ wedding reception.”

“If you ever get married again, I’ll be there.”

“She’s kidding,” said Shirley Maven, looking up to the heavens.

“Are we praying in the temple parking lot today, Mom?” asked Rory.

“Nope,” Laurie said, straightening her son’s wrinkled suit jacket. They followed several other families towards the front entrance of the temple.

“How come there’s police outside?”

“They’re here to keep everybody safe from people who don’t like Jews,” said Shirley.

Laurie frowned.

“Why don’t they like Jews?” the boy asked.

“Some folks don’t like people who are a different race or religion,” Laurie said as she steered her son into the synagogue.

“I don’t have to fast today, do I?”

“Did you already have your Bar Mitzvah?” Shirley asked, all mock serious.

“I’m only eight.”

“Then you don’t have to worry.”

“How come?”

Laurie attempted to clarify. “When a boy turns thirteen, he’s old enough to understand and follow God’s commandments, to take responsibility for his actions.”

“Do girls get Bar Mitzvahed, too?” her son asked.

“Girls get Bat Mitzvahed when they turn twelve years old,” said Shirley.

“How come girls do it when they’re twelve?” he asked.

A family friend’s daughter walked past them. “Because we’re smarter.”

Laurie and Shirley laughed. “Girls mature faster, sweetie,” said Shirley.

“What’s mature mean?”

“L’Shana Tova,” said the ticket takers, shaking their hands as they entered the temple. The three of them walked into the lobby.

“I hope we got here early enough to get good seats,” mused Shirley.

“How come Daddy didn’t come with us?” asked Rory.

Laurie glanced at Shirley. “How ’bout you find us seats near the choir while I walk Rory to babysitting?”

“Will do,” said the older woman, slipping off into the crowd.

“Answer my question, Mom,” Rory whined as they walked down the hall corridor filled with pictures of temple past presidents and Sunday School artwork.

“He needs to talk to someone,” Laurie explained.

“Will God still be able to find Dad and write him in the Book of Life?”

“We’re never lost to God, as long as we want to be found.”

“That’s good, ’cause I love Dad and never want him to get sick again.”

Laurie straightened her son’s blue and gold kipah, then led him towards the babysitting room. They hadn’t told Rory about Ryan’s panic attack, passing off his recent trip to the emergency room as the flu. “Daddy will be just fine.” Once Ryan returned from his “errand,” she wondered if her words would hold true or scrape off like a glob of chewing gum.

*

Ryan’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “I certainly wouldn’t blab to you.”

“I’m pretty good at ferreting out the truth.”

“What if the truth is my secret?”

Mitzy continued. “You guys have had some heavy duty money problems since you quit your job. Those problems increased manifold following your heart attack last year.”

Ryan suddenly pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, the cars behind him honking, and faced her. “I am going to kill Laurie for airing our personal problems to you.”

“Lighten up, Ryan. Laurie and I have been friends since high school.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“The point is that something’s grabbed you by the gondola. A love interest gone bad?”

“It’s none of your business,” he wheezed.

“Are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

He pointed to his left suit pocket. “Nitro…”

Mitzy reached into his pocket and pulled out a prescription bottle. “Should I call nine-one-one?”

Shaking his head, he uncapped the bottle and shoved a capsule beneath his tongue.

She loosened Ryan’s tie. After a few minutes, the color returned to his cheeks.

“Better?”

Extracting a map from the glove compartment, Ryan examined it in silence, then pulled back onto the four-lane highway. “Let’s just get there and get home.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan pulled up to a white two-story house flanked by acres of land on three of its four sides.

Signaling her to follow, Ryan stumbled out of the car and headed up the driveway.

17

Mitzy hung back as Ryan rapped on a front door adorned with a lacquered wreath of apples and pears.

The sound of footsteps hurrying towards them, then the wooden door swung open. A college-age girl dressed in jeans and a white University of Illinois hoodie answered the door. “Hey.”

“My name is Ryan Atkins, formerly of Great Harvest Insurance Agency. Are your parents here? I’ve come to talk to them about Todd.”

Mitzy looked visibly confused. “Shakia’s Todd Gray?”

“I’ll get my dad.”

“Zip it!” Ryan hissed to Mitzy.

“Aye, aye, captain.”

*

The tall, broad-shouldered man paced back and forth across the forest green carpeted living room. “You say my boy hacked into your security system and confronted you at your insurance agency?”

“It looks that way, Doctor,” said Ryan, fidgeting in the corduroy armchair.

“I’m mighty curious, Mr. Atkins,” said Todd Gray, Sr., staring down at him. “Why didn’t you call the police?”

“As I already mentioned, we had a security guard on site.”

“Yet he was absent from the scene.”

Ryan smiled sadly. “Despite your son’s explosive outburst, I felt sorry for his plight.”

“Do you have children, Mr. Atkins?”

Ryan nodded. “Eight-year-old son.”

“Chip off the old block?”

“Actually, he inherited his mother’s curiosity and outgoing nature.”

The veterinarian stooped over him, his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you know what it’s like for your child to be born with a hole in his heart, Mr. Atkins? Strep throat’s a regular visitor. High fevers rally forth and refuse to be tamed. All the while, your kid’s lying there trying to gasp the air like a dying fish.”

Ryan winced. There but for the grace of G-d.

“My son spent so much time in the hospital during his early years, they embroidered his name on his own special blanket. Our pediatrician told us Todd’s heart murmur produced two eighth notes followed by a quarter note. Musically inclined. But that extra beat in there, Mr. Atkins, that’s the killer.”

Listening to the pain in this man’s voice, it was all Ryan could do to not flee the room. Yet he felt he owed this bereft father this modicum of dignity.

The doctor continued. “Fortunately, open heart surgery closed the patento valve. Todd completely recovered. My wife and I were ecstatic. Although engaging in athletics was out of the question, our son excelled in his academic studies and started college.”

“Thank G-d,” Ryan murmured.

Gray looked away. “We only received a temporary reprieve, Mr. Atkins. Apparently, open heart surgery failed to completely close the hole. Todd’s heart was extensively damaged. Pneumonia took up residence with every common cold. His irregular heart beat necessitated pacemaker surgery. Todd’s cardiac output declined. More bouts of hospitalization with diuretic treatments. Somehow my son hung in there and graduated college with honors. But congestive heart failure loomed closer all the time. Todd required a new pacemaker, but this one was defective. Receiving a heart transplant was my son’s last chance.”

Ryan’s face drained of color. “You must believe me, sir. I tried to get my supervisor to sign off on the surgery but he insisted that since Todd had already reached his one-million-dollar lifetime maximum coverage through Great Harvest, Medicare would foot the entire bill.”

“Excuses don’t cut it when you know your son will die without a heart transplant.”

Hearing this family’s plight, Ryan silently rejoiced that G-d had given him a healthy child. Yet, he felt dizzy with regret that he’d unwittingly contributed to this man’s misery.

“I appreciate you coming here to explain yourself, Mr. Atkins; it was a courageous act. But forgiveness is no longer in my vocabulary. Not when my boy’s future has been forever snuffed out.”

“We were going to open up our own chiropractic veterinary practice some day,” a girl’s voice interjected.

Ryan twisted around in his seat to view Todd’s sister. He’d so immersed himself in the father’s saga that he’d forgotten all about the girl who’d opened the front door to him and Mitzy.

Todd Sr. pulled his teenage daughter to him. “It was all planned. Todd was taking graduate courses at the U. of I. while interning at Dr. Grover’s animal clinic. He was convinced of the benefit of chiropractics for treating farm animals.”

Ryan stood up and looked at Mr. Gray and his daughter. “I sympathize with your loss, I really do. But neither I nor Great Harvest forced your son to stalk me and my family at our summer home in Wisconsin.”

Signaling to Ryan that she’d wait in the car, Mitzy headed for the door. She was almost through the entranceway when Todd Gray Sr.’s next words echoed through the house. “Our loss, as you put it, is that my son won’t be opening a veterinary practice with his sister. He’ll be thousands of miles away.”

Mitzy caught the look of disbelief in Ryan’s eye.

“Australia,” continued Mr. Gray.

“Why Australia?” asked Mitzy, buying time.

“Socialized medicine.”

“Australia has lots of cattle ranches,” said Susie. “He can apprentice while he waits.”

“When did your son mention he was heading to another continent?” Ryan croaked.

Todd Sr. looked at him strangely.

“We’d better be going,” Mitzy said hastily.

Ryan extended a trembling hand. “Thanks for allowing me to explain.”

Todd Sr. shook his hand. “I respect a man who does what’s right, even if it means apologizing for a company decision not under his control.”

“G-d bless your family, Mr. Gray,” said Ryan.

“And yours, as well, Mr. Atkins.”