A Thousand Tomorrows & Just Beyond the Clouds Omnibus (2 page)

“It is.” She sat back, her eyes never leaving his. “You were on top of the world before you got hurt; now you’re out of work and afraid.” Compassion found a place in her voice. “Let’s pull together, Mike.” She stood, picked up his ring, and held it out to him. “Let me help you.”

Carl’s crying grew louder.

Mike closed his eyes. “I can’t…” His words were a tortured whisper. “I can’t stay here. I can’t be a father to him, Mary. Every time I look at him, I… I can’t do it.”

Mary felt the blood drain from her face and the cheap linoleum turn liquid beneath her feet. What had he said? This was about Carl Joseph? Precious Carl, who never did anything but smile at Mike and long to be held by him?

Mary’s scalp tingled, and the hairs on her arms stood straight up. “You’re saying you can’t stay married to me because of… because of Carl Joseph?”

“Don’t say it like that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head.

Carl’s crying grew still louder.

“But that’s it, right?” The truth was exploding within her, spraying shrapnel at her heart and soul and leaving scars that would stay forever. “You want out because you can’t be
a father to Carl Joseph. Or because you’re embarrassed by him. Because he’s not perfect.”

“I’m already packed, Mary. I called a cab; I’m flying to California and starting over. You can have the house; I’ll send money when I get a job.”

In a small, less important part of her mind, Mary wondered where Cody was, why he was so quiet. But she couldn’t act on her curiosity. She was too busy reminding herself to breathe. “You’re leaving because your son has Down syndrome? Do you hear yourself, Mike?”

But he was already headed back up the stairs.

When he left the house ten minutes later, he mumbled a single good-bye to no one in particular. Cody came tearing into the entryway from the living room, his eyes wide, forehead creased with worry.

“Dad, wait!” Cody ran out the door, his untied tennis shoes flopping with every step.

Carl Joseph in tow, Mary followed, horrified at the scene playing out. The cab waited out front, and without turning back, Mike helped the driver load both his suitcases into the trunk.

Cody stopped a few feet away, chest heaving. “Dad, where are you going?”

Mike hesitated, his eyes on Cody. “Never mind.”

“But Dad—” Cody took a step closer. “When’re you coming home?”

“I’m not.” He looked at Mary and back at Cody. “This is it, son.” Mike moved toward the passenger door. “Be good for your mama, you hear?”

“But Dad… I got a baseball game Friday; you promised you’d be there!” The boy was frantic, his words breathless and clipped. “Dad, don’t go!”

Mike opened the door of the cab.

“Wait!” Mary stormed barefoot across the damp grass toward the cab. Carl Joseph stayed behind, rooted in one spot, watching, his thumb in his mouth. Mary jabbed her finger in the air. “You can’t leave now, Mike. Your son’s talking to you.”

“Don’t do this, Mary.” Mike shot her a warning look. He lowered himself a few inches toward the passenger seat. “I have nothing to say.”

“Dad!” Cody looked from Mike to Mary and back again. “What’s happening; where’re you going?”

Mike bit his lip and gave a curt nod to Cody. “Good-bye, son.”

“Fine!” Mary screamed the word, her voice shrill and panicked. “Leave, then.” She bent over, her knees shaking. Tears ran in rivers down her face. “Go ahead and leave. But if you go now, don’t come back. Not ever!”

“What?” Cody looked desperate and sick, his world spinning out of control. He glared at his mother. “Don’t say that, Mom. Don’t tell him not to come back!”

Mary’s eyes never left Mike’s face. “Stay out of this, Cody. If he doesn’t want us, he can go.” She raised her voice again. “Do you hear me, Mike? Don’t come back!”

What happened next would be a part of all their lives as long as morning followed night. Cody’s father looked once more at the three of them standing on the lawn, then he
climbed into the backseat, shut the door, and the cab pulled away.

“Dad!” Cody screamed his name and took off running.

The sound frightened Carl Joseph. He buried his face in his hands and fell onto his knees, rocking forward and calling out, “Mama… Mama… Mama.”

Mary went to him. “Shhh. It’s okay.” She rubbed his back. Why was this happening? And why hadn’t there been any warning? She was dizzy with shock, sick to her stomach and barely able to stand as she watched Cody chase after his father’s cab.

Never did the cab slow even a little, but all the while Cody kept running. “Dad! Dad, wait!” Five houses down, seven, ten. “Don’t go, Dad! Please!”

Each word hit Mary like a Mack truck. When she couldn’t take another minute, she screamed after him, “Cody, get back here!”

But he wouldn’t come, wouldn’t stop running. All the way to the end of the block, with a speed he’d gotten from his father, he ran until the cab was long gone from sight. Then, for ten minutes, he stood there. A dark-haired eight-year-old boy, standing on the corner staring after a cab that wasn’t ever coming back.

In some small way, Mary was almost glad Mike was gone.

Sure, a few hours earlier she’d been willing to fight for their marriage. But that was when she thought things were simpler. She could understand his confusion, what with his football career in limbo.

But to be embarrassed by Carl Joseph?

Carl was her son, a part of her. Because of his disability, he’d never be capable of the kind of low, mean-spirited act his father had just committed. No, Carl would always have a kind, simple heart, but Mike would miss that—the same way he’d missed everything about Carl Joseph since the day he was diagnosed.

Even as she stood there, willing Cody to turn around and come home, not quite believing her marriage was over, she felt her resolve building. There was no loving a man who didn’t love his own son. If Mike didn’t want to be a father to Carl Joseph, she’d love the boy enough for both of them. She would survive, even if she never heard from Mike Gunner again.

She focused on Cody once more, his little-boy shoulders slumped forward as he waited, facing the empty spot where the cab had disappeared. He was crying, no doubt. She could almost see his smudged, tearstained cheeks and the slack-jawed look on his face. Was he feeling the way she felt? Abandoned? Overcome with despair?

A strange thought hit her, and suddenly fear had the upper hand.

Because the thought was something she hadn’t considered until that moment. Yes, she would survive, and certainly Carl Joseph would be okay without Mike. But Cody adored his father; he always had. And if the boy’s slumped shoulders were any indication, Cody might not bounce back the way she and Carl would.

Rather, he might never be the same again.

Chapter Two

C
ody’s sides hurt from running.

He dug his fingers into his waist and stared down the empty street. “Dad!” The picture filled his mind again. The cab slowing down, stopping for a minute, then making a gradual left turn. “Dad, come back.”

A breeze hit him in the face and he realized he was crying.

“Dad!” Cody gasped, grabbing at any air he could suck in. Why did he leave? Where did he go? Dad took trips all the time, but he always came home. Always. What had he said? He wasn’t coming back; was that it? His dad’s words rumbled around inside him, making his chest tight, filling his heart and soul and lungs with hurt. Every breath was a struggle.

His dad was gone.

He was gone and there was nothing Cody could do about it.
Come back, Dad!
The words stayed stuck in his throat this
time, and he stared down.
Stay, feet. Don’t move. He’ll come back; he will
.

Cody lifted his eyes to the place where the cab had turned. Any second, right? He’d turn around, come back home, tell them all he was sorry for getting so mad, right? Cody waited and waited and waited. And then he remembered the thing his dad had said about Carl Joseph.

I can’t be a father to him…

Eight years was plenty old enough for Cody to understand the problem. Carl Joseph was different. He didn’t look right or talk right or walk right. He was happy and really good at loving everyone and he almost never got mad, but their dad maybe didn’t notice that. That’s why, this time, having his dad leave was more serious.

Because he didn’t want to be a daddy to Carl Joseph.

Cody stared down the street.
Come back, Dad… turn around
. He waited and watched for a long, long time.

Nothing.

No movement, no sounds of cars turning around and coming back. No yellow cabs. Just the quiet dance of twisty green leaves above him and the hot summer song of unseen crickets. Or something like crickets.

Later his mother would tell him that she cried for him, standing there all that time, waiting for his father to come back. But after a while, Cody wasn’t just standing there waiting; he was swept up in a feeling he’d never known until that day.

It started in his feet, almost as if it were oozing up through the cracked bumpy sidewalk. A burning that flooded his veins and pushed higher, past his knees and thighs, into
his gut, where it swirled and mixed and grew until it filled his heart and mind, and finally his soul.

Not until it fully consumed him, not until it took up every spare bit of his young body, did he realize what had come over him, into him.

Cody knew what hate was because of Billy Bloom in his second-grade class. Billy was bigger than everyone else. Bigger and meaner. He tripped kindergartners, and stole the ball from the kickball game at recess, and laughed at Cody when he got a wrong answer in math. Cody hated Billy Bloom.

But what he was feeling now, this was something new, something so powerful it burned in his arms and legs and made him feel heavy and slow and trapped. All the other times Cody had used the word hate, he’d been wrong. Because
this
—what he felt for his father—was hatred.

C
ODY NEVER TOLD
anyone, but that morning he felt his heart shrivel up and die, all except the piece that belonged to Carl Joseph. His little brother thought Cody was Superman and Christopher Robin all rolled into one. As the weeks passed, every morning was the same routine. Carl Joseph would scamper down the hall to Cody’s room, slip inside, and stand next to the bed.

“Brother…” He would pat Cody’s shoulder. “It’s a new morning.”

Cody would stir and blink his eyes and find Carl Joseph there. “Yep, buddy. A brand-new morning.”

“Is Daddy coming home today?”

Cody would grit his teeth and sit up some. “Not today, buddy. I don’t think so.”

For a minute worry would cast shadows on Carl Joseph’s face. But then a grin would fill his round cheeks and he’d make a funny chuckling sound. “That’s okay, ’cause know why, brother?”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause I have you, brother. I always have you.”

Cody would hug him around the neck. “That’s right, buddy. You always have me.”

The two of them were inseparable. Carl Joseph followed him around the house, waiting for him at the front window on school days. He didn’t talk as clear as other kids, and he had those puffy bunches of skin under his eyes. But he was the happiest little guy Cody ever saw. He loved with abandon, and after a few months he walked into Cody’s room one morning and didn’t ask about when Daddy would come home.

That day Carl Joseph worked his way into the deepest part of Cody’s heart. He still wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with Carl Joseph, but whatever it was, Cody had a feeling there wouldn’t be many people in his little brother’s life. If their dad didn’t want Carl Joseph, maybe no one would.

No one but Cody. Whatever else happened, Cody would love Carl Joseph, and maybe that was all he’d ever love. He had no use for his mother; she was a grown-up, the only one with the power to keep Cody’s father home. Instead, she’d stood right there on the grass and told him to go. Told him to go and never come back.

The rest of that year, Cody would wait until Carl Joseph was asleep, then he’d creep up to his room without saying good night to his mother. He’d lie on the bed and stare at the wall. Sometimes tears would come, sometimes not. Always he would start at the beginning.

Hearing his dad talk to his mom about leaving, about not wanting to be with Carl Joseph. Then seeing his dad with a suitcase and following him out into the front yard and watching him head for the yellow cab.

“Good-bye, son. Good-bye.”

The story would run again and again in his head, playing out on the blank wall beside his bed. Almost always his mother would find him there. Most of the time she didn’t ask about why Cody went to bed early or why he was lying on his side staring at the wall or why he never told her good night or what he was feeling about his dad being gone.

But once in a while she would try.

Cody remembered one night the next spring when his mom came up to talk to him. She opened the door and took a loud breath. Then she moved a few steps toward him. “I hate that you hide up here, Cody. You’re not the only one hurting.”

“Yes, I am!” Cody turned over and sat up. His heart skittered around in his chest. “Carl Joseph doesn’t remember Daddy.”