Absence of Grace (40 page)

“Did he?”

“And a fireman, and a cowboy, and a—”

“But most of all, he wanted to be a regular kid.” Clen could feel tears gathering. She curled her feet under her on the sofa, trying to get comfortable, although she knew that wasn’t possible.

“I think about him all the time,” Jason said. “But there’s no one I can talk to about him.”

“What about the folks?”

“It makes them sad when I mention him, so I don’t. Do you remember what a joker he was?”

“Lord, yes. He played enough jokes on me.”

“I remember one time he turned all your clothes inside out. You always ran late for school. He figured you’d grab something and not notice.”

Okay, she could play this game. “What was he? Seven? It was third period before someone asked why I was wearing my sweater inside out. Everyone was laughing about it. I wanted to kill him.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, but Jason either didn’t pick up on her choice of words, or chose to ignore them.

“So is he the one who put the garter snake in the chocolate box, or did you?” she said.

“I was just an accomplice. The ideas were all Josh’s.”

“The two of you, always so angelic looking. Although I knew nobody was likely to send me chocolates, I still fell for it.”

“You were a good sport. Most girls would have fainted or screamed, but you didn’t even rat us out.”

“More fun to pay you back.”

“I don’t remember what you did to us after the snake.”

Clen swiped a hand to brush away the dampness in her eyes. “That was right when he got sick.”

She wondered if Jason was remembering Josh plotting one of his tricks. As for her, she was fighting off the memory of him lying in bed, quivering with pain.

“You know, by the time he died, I was relieved,” Jason said. “I couldn’t stand it anymore, seeing him suffer that way.”

“Me either.” She closed her eyes against the memories. She shouldn’t have come here. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll call it a day.”

“We get up early around here,” Jason said. “If you’re not up, we’ll leave a key and our phone numbers on the counter. Just don’t go running off without telling us where you’re going. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” She was too tired to argue the point.
 

Clen awoke to the smell of coffee brewing and the quiet sounds of Jason and Nancy getting ready for work. She stayed in bed until she heard them leave, then took her time getting up. In the kitchen, she found the promised key along with a note and a map.

Clen, We’re only a couple of blocks from the botanical gardens. I’ve marked the location on the map. We’re members so I’m leaving you the card if you’d like to visit. Help yourself to anything you find in the fridge. I’ll be home by four. Jason usually doesn’t get home until after six. We’ll see you then! It’s supposed to be a nice day. Enjoy. N.

Clen could well imagine Jase standing at Nancy’s shoulder insisting she add there would be dire consequences if Clen left before they got home. She was glad to know her brother married a woman who would stand up to him.

While she waited for her toast to pop up, she looked out the window to see there was a small deck with a table and chairs. When her tea and toast were ready, she carried them outside. If anything, Nancy had understated the weather report. It was a gorgeous day.

And Clen had no idea how she was going to fill it, let alone all the days to follow. She sat with the sun warming her, listening to the birds, until the memories she’d spent twenty years trying to escape blanked everything out.

You have to help me, Mickey La. I can’t take it anymore. You have to help me die.

No, Josh. Don’t...

You said it’s like going to sleep. So I’m thinking, if I’m already asleep, it shouldn’t even hurt.

Josh, please, don’t ask me to do this.

You’re the only one I can ask. I’ve figured it out, so you won’t get in trouble. After Mom gives me my shot at midnight, she goes back to bed for a while. That’s when you smother me. With a pillow. I won’t feel a thing.

Josh, I can’t. I just can’t.

I’m not getting better. You know I’m not. And it hurts bad. I’m ready, Mickey La, please, help me not to wake up. Don’t make me do this anymore.

At first, she’d refused to consider it. But every day, whenever they were alone, Josh begged her to make it the last day he had to suffer. And every night, she’d lain awake listening as her mother checked on Josh. Finally, one night, she slipped out of bed after she heard her mother leave Josh’s room.

Josh was lying curled on his side, his thumb in his mouth, looking the way he had as a baby. She stood watching him a long time before going back to bed.

The next day was bad. Josh could no longer be soothed by stories and the shots did less and less to dull the pain. When she tried to comfort him, he grabbed her hand.
Please, Mickey La. Tonight. You have to. Please.

That night, she’d again waited until she heard her mother leave Josh’s room, then she’d gone to him, carrying her pillow. The shot he’d just received had done what work it could and he was unconscious, but restless. She reached out and pressed his shoulder to shift him onto his back without waking him. As he moved, a tiny moan escaped, and his thumb popped out of his mouth. She took his hand in hers, feeling bones barely covered with skin. His breathing was shallow, his chest moving only slightly.

She smoothed the few wisps of hair from his brow and then, finally, she lowered the pillow. Such a simple thing. A pillow. Usually a comfort, something sought to ease the ache of a broken heart. Josh stiffened, his hand fluttering briefly in hers, then he didn’t move again. She held the pillow in place until the clock struck the quarter hour. In the faint light, the ravages of the disease were invisible, and Josh was once again beautiful.

She’d stayed with Josh, holding his hand, until her mother came to give him his next dose. As he’d predicted, nobody suspected a thing. Her parents didn’t even ask how long she’d been with Josh, or why she hadn’t awakened them.
I’m so glad he wasn’t alone,
was all her mom said.

On this beautiful summer day, Clen sat on Jason’s deck in Denver and finally cried for Josh, tears she’d refused to shed for more than twenty years.

Then she went inside, washed her face, and called Gerrum.

He wasn’t home, although that was hardly surprising since it was midmorning in Wrangell. He was probably working on the boats, getting them ready for winter.

“I’m in Denver. At Jason’s.” She tried to think if there was anything else she needed to say, but there wasn’t.

Eyewitnesses are notoriously inaccurate, Jason once told her. But juries still love them. If she were sworn in and asked to testify to what she’d witnessed at Gerrum’s that day, could she do it? With complete certainty?

Probably not. The images were overlaid with too much emotion and reaction for her to remember precisely what she’d seen. Which was perhaps why she’d reached a place where she was ready to listen to what Gerrum had to say.

Waiting for Gerrum’s call, Clen went to the bookcase in the living room, picked a book at random, and lay on the couch to read. The next thing she knew, she was startled awake, her heart hammering. She tried to work through what awakened her and, after a moment, she realized it must have been the doorbell.

She padded to the door and opened it to find Gerrum there, oddly formal in dark slacks and a blue dress shirt she’d not seen before. Book-signing clothes?

They made him appear foreign, not her Gerrum of the flannel shirts and jeans. Or maybe the strangeness was more in the way he stood, balanced, as if he was prepared to move either toward her or away. And his expression was wary. Even more disconcerting, his eyes held no gleam of humor. Instead, they were shadowed with an emotion she was afraid to name.

Seeing that, her throat dried out completely. “What...why, how did you get here?”

“I flew. From Boston.”

“Boston?”

“I went to Resurrection. Jason called to tell me you were here.”

“Oh.” Her hands clutched the door frame and her body refused to stop trembling. She ached to touch him so she wouldn’t feel so separate. Seeing him, she no longer doubted she’d misinterpreted what she’d seen. And with that certainty, she knew her response—that swift and sure belief he had betrayed her—had broken her connection to him.

“Can I come in?”

She gestured him inside, through the living room and kitchen and out to the deck.

“Would you like something to drink?” Her voice wobbled. She cleared her throat, trying to steady it. “Water? A beer?”

“Water would be good.”

She poured two glasses and sat across from him, rolling her glass between her hands. “I blew it, didn’t I?”

A lift of his eyebrows was his only response. No change in that wary look that was frightening her so badly.

“I saw you and Hailey and it hurt so much, I didn’t stop—”

“No, you didn’t.”

The words made her wince.

“Hailey’s been going through a difficult time. A family matter. That’s all. I would never—” His tone. Controlled, cool. Not as cool as those eyes, though. “I thought you’d figure it out. Call me.” His words held both pain and a question.

“I can’t take back what I thought. Can you forgive me?”

He examined her, rolling the glass between his hands. She tried to read him, but he’d gone opaque.

“You stopped trusting in us, Clen. In yourself. Giving up like that? Without a fight? Too easy. I need to know you won’t do it again. That you’ll stick around. Yell at me, if necessary, but don’t ever leave like that again.”

“You’d give me another chance?”

“Only if you’re willing to be more open about...” He stopped speaking and looked her in the eyes. “Sometimes it feels as if you’re holding back. I don’t know...” He shook his head, looking frustrated.

He was right. She’d always held something back. Not wanting him to see her too clearly. Who she was. What she’d done. Sins of omission and commission.

He leaned across the table, and took one of her hands in his. “Tell me, Clen. What were you thinking just then?”