Words Get In the Way (13 page)

The day was hazy and hot, and Linden pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it onto the sunny grass. As he surveyed the wall, he noticed that every stone had a unique map of moss and lichen and, from the pattern, he could almost guess its previous position on the wall. He was glad Fairbanks didn’t want him to use string. A true New England wall wasn’t perfect. It wandered along where it was needed, its path determined by the landscape. If it encountered a tree, it went around it, and then it continued to follow the lay of the land.

Linden worked steadily, and by late morning his stomach was rumbling. He usually packed a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but that morning he’d realized, too late, that he was out of bread, so he’d made a quick stop at the deli and treated himself to a ham and Swiss grinder with lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayo. It was a welcome change and he devoured it quickly, washing it down with a quart of orange Gatorade. His voracious appetite had not diminished at all since high school, and sometimes he worried that, if his metabolism ever slowed down, he’d balloon into a much larger version of himself. He sighed, popped the second of three Oreos in his mouth, and decided he didn’t need to worry about that just yet. While munching on the last Oreo, he looked up at the endless summer sky and wondered what Callie was doing at that moment. He’d told her he’d be home in the late afternoon if she wanted to leave Henry with him, but she had seemed reluctant. Maybe he’d swing by on his way home and see if she’d changed her mind. It had been so good to see her; and one thing was certain. . . she was as beautiful as ever.

The afternoon passed quickly, and when Linden stopped to look at the clock in the truck, he couldn’t believe how late it was. He’d made good progress, but he’d also begun to realize that this job was going to take much longer than he’d expected. He pulled on his shirt, packed up his things, and headed back down through the pasture. As he neared the house, he saw Fairbanks standing outside, wearing different clothes but still having the same careless look of someone whose mind was preoccupied with thoughts more profound than what to wear. His friends had arrived bearing gifts: bottles of wine, baked goods, and a lovely bouquet of lilies. They were all standing in the driveway and, when Fairbanks spied the truck coming down the hill, he waved for Linden to stop and held out a plate of brownies. “These little delights are
not
from a box,” he declared with a wink.

Linden smiled and took one. “Thanks! Are you going to Harlow’s?” he asked.

“I think so, but we’re going to have cocktails first. Care to join us?”

Linden was surprised by the invitation. “No ... no, thanks,” he stammered. He looked over and nodded to two older gentlemen and a pretty, middle-aged woman standing near an old, green Range Rover with New York plates. “I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Fairbanks nodded. “Well, you must take another brownie, then.”

As Linden pulled away, he glanced in his rearview mirror and watched Fairbanks and his friends climb the porch steps. It would have been fun to stay, but he really wanted to give Callie the chance to see her dad. He looked at the clock and sighed. He really needed to shower too, but if he took the time to go home, visiting hours might be over.

26

C
allie was washing dishes and Henry was sitting in his booster seat finishing supper when Linden knocked on the screen door. They both looked up in surprise.

“Hey!” Callie said, drying her hands. “Come in.”

Linden pulled open the door, smiling shyly, and ruffled Henry’s hair. “How’s my little helper?”

Callie watched the exchange and shook her head. “Your little helper has had another long day with
his
mean mom.”

“Naaw,” Linden teased, looking at Henry. “Are you giving your mom a hard time again?” Henry slurped in a long string of spaghetti and didn’t respond.

Callie shook her head and sighed. “Have you had supper?”

“No, but that’s not why I came,” he said. “I came so you could run over to see your dad.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, considering the offer. “I might, though, if you’ll eat some spaghetti.” She motioned to the bowl. “I always make too much.”

Linden looked at the mound of spaghetti in the bowl and his stomach rumbled. He patted it with an embarrassed grin. “I guess I can help with that.”

“Good!” Callie said. “There’s bread and salad,
and
blueberry muffins.” She pointed to a plate on the counter.

Linden nodded. “Okay, but you better go.”

Callie glanced at the clock and then around the kitchen. “Leave the dishes.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

He grinned, and she eyed him. “You better,” she said warningly. She grabbed her bag, kissed Henry on the top of the head, and looked at Linden. “Thank you so much. I won’t be long.”

Linden leaned against the counter and nodded toward the door. “Go.”

After Callie left, Linden fixed a plate of spaghetti, sat down next to Henry, and noticed that Henry’s cup was empty. “Want more milk?” Henry nodded slightly, and Linden refilled his cup and poured a glass for himself. “I bet Springer and Kat are hungry too,” he said, thinking of the animals. Henry looked around at the mention of the two dogs, and Linden shook his head. “They’re not here, Henry. I was just thinking of them.” He studied the little boy’s face and wondered if he always took what was said to him literally. Maybe he should be more careful about what he said.

After supper, he cleared the dishes and, remembering Callie’s admonishment, smiled as he turned on the hot water and poured soap onto the sponge. He washed the few dishes, looked out the window at the neglected gardens, and remembered how meticulous they’d once been. He washed Henry’s plate and cup, put them in the dish drain, dried his hands, and turned to look at him. “Want to go for a walk?” Henry immediately climbed down and headed for the door.

As they started up the dirt road, Henry slipped his small hand into Linden’s and Linden was suddenly reminded of another hand he’d once held while walking on this road.
Who would have thought that, years later, I’d walk here holding her son’s hand? Life certainly takes some unexpected turns!
As they continued along, Linden recalled the autumn afternoon when he and Callie had stopped, just out of view of the house. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, and remembered an old majestic maple tree that had showered them with red and orange leaves. He pictured himself as an awkward, skinny fifteen-year-old with a pounding heart ... and Callie seeming so sure of herself. He had pulled her toward him and she’d just closed her eyes, leaning up to him, and softly kissed him back. He could still taste the sweetness of her lips... .

He felt a sudden tug on his hand and looked down. Henry, bored by the delay, had slipped free and begun walking along a rut in the side of the road. Linden caught up to him, and Henry glanced over his shoulder and began to trot. Linden picked up his pace too and teased, “Are we racing?” As soon as he said the words, though, he regretted it, because Henry started to run faster. Linden jogged beside him, feeling his sore muscles protesting. “Wouldn’t you rather walk?” he asked, but Henry just kept going, his little legs chugging along. Linden settled into a steady pace beside him and wondered how far Henry could run.

27

I
t was 7:50 when Callie stopped in front of the nurses’ station near the ICU. A nurse looked up, glanced at the clock, and said, “You just made it.” Callie smiled and continued on to her dad’s room. She peered around his door and saw Dr. Franklin standing beside his bed with a clipboard tucked against his chest.

“Hi,” she said softly. Her dad smiled, and Dr. Franklin looked up.

“Hey! You are just the person I wanted to see.”

“I am?”

Dr. Franklin slipped a book from behind the clipboard. “I thought you might like to read this. It’s written by a woman who has autism.” Callie took the book and looked at the title,
Thinking in Pictures
. Dr. Franklin continued, “Temple Grandin’s books have had a tremendous impact on our understanding of autism and, more importantly, on our understanding of how those with autism see and understand the world.”

“Thank you,” Callie said, taking it and skimming the back cover.

“But that’s not the only reason I was hoping to see you.” He paused, and Callie looked up. “Your dad and I have just been talking about his new test results. They show that one of his arteries has more blockage than we initially thought.” He paused. “So much so that I think it would be best for him to have the surgery sooner, rather than later.”

Callie took a deep breath in. “Is he strong enough?”

“He is, and I don’t think his strength will improve much more if we don’t help his heart.”

“Oh,” she said, looking at her dad. “How soon?” she asked pensively.

“I was hoping to do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” Callie felt her heart and head both start to pound at once, and she rubbed her temple.

She reached for her dad’s hand, and Dr. Franklin gently reassured her. “Callie, it’s a standard operation. I’ve performed it hundreds of times.” He looked at Ben. “And you will feel much better after.”

Callie searched her dad’s eyes, trying to read how he felt about having surgery so soon. From his smile and nod, though, she could tell he was already resigned to the idea. “There’s no sense putting it off, Cal,” he said.

Dr. Franklin reached for his pen. “I just need a couple of signatures, then, and we’ll plan on first thing in the morning.” Callie watched her father’s once strong, steady hand shaking as he signed the papers. Dr. Franklin put his hand on Callie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Callie. Everything will be fine.” He stopped at the door on his way out, looked back at Ben, and reminded him, “No breakfast.” Ben nodded.

There were rare moments in Callie’s life when she felt as if God was speaking to her through the counsel of another person and she suddenly realized that this was one of those times. Dr. Franklin’s words had swept over her and left her with a sense of peace ... and, even though she knew she would probably still worry, in the end everything would be fine.

She sat on the edge of her dad’s bed and smiled. “Are you okay?”

Ben nodded. “Are you?”

She nodded too. “Remember what Mom used to say?” “She used to say a lot of things... .”

“Well, one thing she said was, ‘All will be well ... and all will be well ...’ ”

Ben smiled and joined in, “ ‘... and all will be well ... no matter what.’ ”

Callie gave him a long hug. “I’ll be here.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Well, I will be,” she said firmly.

“You always were stubborn,” he teased.

“I got it from
you,
” she teased back.

28

T
he sun was setting when Callie pulled into the driveway of the little ranch. She walked toward the dark house and wondered where Henry and Linden were.

“Linden?” she called.

“Back here.”

Callie walked around the house but still couldn’t see him.

“Over here,” Linden said, standing up and throwing a handful of weeds into a wooden bushel.

“Where’s Henry?”

“Right here,” he said, pointing down. A little hand reached out and dropped a weed into the bushel.

“You guys are weeding?” she asked incredulously.

Linden grinned. “Well, first, your son took me on a little run and, when we got back, it was too hot inside so we just walked around out here. We saw that the gardens needed weeding, and we found this old bushel in the garage.” As he said this, the little fist reached out and dropped in another weed.

Linden smiled. “You have a good little worker.”

Callie shook her head. “And
you
have an amazing way with him. I don’t know how you do it. He mimics everything you do.”

Linden shrugged. “With simple tasks, he’s very focused.”

Callie laughed. “Probably more than I ever was ... or will be!”

Linden brushed his hands off and stepped toward her. “How’s your dad?”

Callie looked at the streaks of orange along the horizon and realized that the feeling of peace she’d felt at the hospital was waning. She blinked back tears and said, “He’s having surgery tomorrow.”

Linden saw her eyes glistening in the evening light and, without thinking, wrapped her in a hug. “He’s going to be okay, Cal,” he whispered.

Callie nodded, and Linden stepped back to make sure she wasn’t crying. As he did, he remembered that he still hadn’t showered, and he took another step back. Callie looked up, puzzled. “I forgot that I really need a shower,” he said.

“You
could
just shower here,” she teased mischievously.

“And what would your dad think, since
you
are the only one home?”

“He wouldn’t think anything of it. He already knows I’m a lost cause.”

Linden searched her eyes and shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he said quietly.

Callie looked away. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected Linden to forgive her so easily. They hadn’t even talked about anything yet. Didn’t he want to know?

Linden lifted her chin. “Callie, I wish I could stay,
and
take a shower,” he added with a smile, “but I’m afraid I have some very hungry animals waiting for me.”

Callie suddenly remembered all the animals. “Oh, I forgot!” she exclaimed. “You’d better go!”

Linden nodded. “Why don’t I pick Henry up on my way to work tomorrow?”

Callie looked puzzled. “Linden, I don’t expect you to watch Henry tomorrow.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, hesitating. “I hadn’t gotten that far. Besides, how can you take him to work?” She shook her head in dismay. “I don’t even know what you do. How can that be? Have we only talked about
me?
”

“No, we haven’t only talked about
you
.” He paused. “Besides, it’s not a big deal. I just rebuild old stone walls, and tomorrow I’m working on a farm in Dublin. I’m sure Henry will be fine. Maybe I’ll even put him to work. And, if he’s not happy, we won’t stay.”