On Blue Falls Pond (29 page)
“Reckon lots of folks could use a dog that can dial 911.”
“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Glory said.
“Seems to me,” Granny said, “we could start with them pups we got right under our own roof.”
Glory could see the wheels of enthusiasm beginning to turn, the brightness come alive in Granny’s eyes. At her core, Granny was a giver. And training the dogs would allow her to give to others in a new way.
A good portion of the “observation” done by the Duke team evaluating Scott had to be done without Eric and Jill in the room. During those times, Eric had felt like he’d crawl out of his skin. But that was nothing compared to the way he felt as they waited to go in and hear the results of those observations from Dr. Brandenburg.
He held Scott tightly on his lap. Jill had reached over and clasped his hand. Over the past hours, even her determined optimism had begun to slip.
There was one other couple with a child in the waiting room. Even so, it was silent enough that Eric could hear everyone breathing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.” The secretary called them in.
Eric wasn’t sure his knees would hold out when he stood up. But they did. Jill’s didn’t. She faltered, then sat back down.
He shifted Scott to his left hip, then extended his hand toward her. “Come on. We’ll get through this.” God, he wished he felt as confident as he sounded.
Slowly she put her hand in his, that same trust brimming in her eyes that haunted Eric from accident victims; as if he had the power to save. Right now, he felt like he could use the saving.
Suddenly, he wanted Glory—
needed
her to stand beside him, to hold his hand while he faced the news that would shape his son’s future.
They were seated in front of the doctor’s broad desk. It was clean and organized, evoking confidence that the man knew what he was about.
Dr. Brandenburg folded his hands on top of a thick folder, filled, Eric supposed, with all of those observations. “I think our team has enough evidence to say that without a doubt, your son is suffering from several of the symptoms of autism.”
Eric felt as if he’d stepped into a snare that whipped him off his feet and had him suddenly dangling upside down thirty feet above the ground.
Why couldn’t the man beat around the bush a little bit? Ease them in.
Jill made a squeaking noise.
When Eric glanced at her, she was pale. Her lips were moving, but nothing but that thin squeak came out. She had been in denial for so long, he supposed this had to be more of a shock to her than it was to him—and
he
felt as if he’d been gutted.
Dr. Brandenburg got up and retrieved a glass of water, giving it to Jill and telling her to take a sip.
Each breath Eric took while that happened brought him layer upon layer of steely calm. Now they could
do
something.
The doctor sat back behind his desk—an objective distance from the emotional upheaval his words had just caused. “This is not the end. It’s the beginning for Scott. It might be a long road, but we can help.”
Eric asked, “What’s our first step? Where do we start?”
Jill led Scott to the front door, while Eric followed along with the suitcase. She’d convinced him to spend last night in North Carolina when he’d wanted to drive back immediately after their appointment with Dr. Brandenburg.
Eric set down the suitcases, kissed Scott’s head, and moved back toward the door.
“You’re not just leaving, are you?” Jill asked.
He stopped and turned around. “What were you expecting?”
“You can’t just leave me with him! He has autism.” That panic she’d first felt in Dr. Brandenburg’s office was back in full roil.
Eric rubbed his forehead. He looked tired, but Jesus, she was tired too!
He took her by the arm and led her to the couch. Scott sat on the floor with his pirate boat. Suddenly, what she’d viewed as play now seemed ominous, dangerous even. That ceaseless spinning had condemned her child.
“Jill, Scott isn’t any different than he was two days ago when we left here. We’re going to get a good night’s rest, then we’ll make the arrangements the doctor suggested for therapies.”
“But”—she glanced at her baby—“what if—”
“There’s nothing different about tonight. Just do what you normally do. We’ll worry about changes and modifications tomorrow.”
She could hardly whisper, “What if they don’t help?”
“We have to believe they will. If one fails, we’ll find another. Remember the doctor said it might be trial and error until we hit on the right combination.”
She shot to her feet. “That’s easy for him to say! It’s not his little boy.”
“Do you want me to take him?”
“What?”
“Do you want me to take Scott with me?”
Anger bubbled in her chest. “No. I want you to stay here and behave like his father! We have to do this together.”
When Eric stood in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders, she wanted to lean into him, make him wrap his arms around her so she could feel safe. But he held her firmly away.
“Jill, you know that’s not going to work. We tried to build a marriage on the wrong things before; let’s not make the same mistake twice. I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for Scott.”
“But not for me?” She felt like crying.
“I’ll support you, help you in any way I can. But my moving back here would be wrong. We’d both be miserable, and that can’t be good for Scott.”
. . . both be miserable?
She wondered if he’d be so sure of that if he didn’t have Glory Harrison sitting out in the hollow waiting for him.
Exhausted as he was, Eric didn’t want to go face his empty house. So when he left Jill’s, he went by the fire station. He checked in with the guys on duty and discovered nothing had happened in his absence except two fender benders.
He stopped in the garage to look over the equipment. It was just another stalling tactic; he knew his guys kept everything in top shape.
As he stood there, staring at but not focusing on the gauges of one of the trucks, he warred with himself. The first thing he’d wanted to do when he left Jill’s was call Glory. So, why hadn’t he done it?
Because I’m afraid when I tell her, it’ll be the end. I asked her if she could accept Scott as he was . . . now there’s a clear uphill battle ahead. What if she won’t fight it with me?
Behind him someone cleared a throat.
It was Glory; his heart accelerated.
She held up Scott’s quilt and approached with a little uncertainty. “I was in town and wanted to drop this off. It’s all fixed.”
He didn’t miss the hint of pride in her voice. “
You
fixed it?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes, I did. And I’ll take no criticism on my work. I’m a beginner.”
He took ahold of the quilt and reeled her closer to him. “You won’t hear criticism from my lips.” He ducked close and kissed her.
She pulled back and looked around guiltily.
He laughed. “We’re not in eighth grade. Besides, I’m the boss, remember?”
“So you can do whatever you want?”
“Pretty much,” he said as he took the quilt from her hands. For the first time in weeks, he felt awkward with her.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call,” she said softly.
“We just got back a little while ago.”
“As tired as you look, it can’t be good news.”
“I need some comfort food. Can I buy you an ice-cream sundae?”
For a brief second there was fear in her eyes. Then she smiled and said, “Hot fudge with whipped cream and extra nuts.”
They walked at an easy pace to Swisher’s Ice Cream Shop. He liked walking down the streets of this town with her at his side. They both had deep roots here, had eaten sundaes at Swisher’s as children and burgers and fries at Wimpy’s as teenagers.
He had been alone a long time; although he’d never thought of himself that way until recently. He knew he was ready for a partner, a love to share his everyday life. And he wanted Glory to be that person. But she hadn’t yet answered if she could accept his son. It was a package deal . . . and that deal had just gotten a whole lot more one-sided.
They sat in a booth at the back of the shop and ordered sundaes. They managed to avoid the subject at hand until after their ice cream was served.
Eric watched Glory fiddle, sculpting her whipped cream with her spoon. He recalled how much he’d wanted her with him when he received the diagnosis.
He decided it was only fair to lay it all out. “You were right. It wasn’t good news. In their words, Scott is ‘exhibiting several symptoms of autism.’”
“Autism,” she echoed.
Eric nodded. “It wasn’t a surprise . . . I fully expected it—” He couldn’t continue.
Glory got up from her side of the booth and slid in beside him. She took his hand in hers.
He took a deep breath. “There are several things they suggested as far as therapies . . . speech to begin with, some possible modification of his diet . . . we won’t know what will help until we try.”
The ice cream was melting in both of their dishes; a thick, sticky drip slipped from the rim of his to the table.
Glory cleared her throat. “Yes. Well.” She licked her lips. “At least you have a place to begin. Now you can take some positive steps.”
“Yes. But I hadn’t thought about what it might mean to you . . . to us.”
“Scott is the same boy he was three days ago. Nothing has changed that would affect my decision.”
He smiled slightly at her use of the same argument he’d used on Jill.
She went on, “I’ve been thinking, as you asked me to. I have a lot to say, and I’d like to say it all at once.”
He nodded and grasped her fingers more tightly; his stomach felt like a boulder in his midsection.
“While I was working on the quilt, several things became clear. I finally think I understand my reticence toward Scott. It was something that never made any sense to me. I love children—and I’m not so shallow as to pick and choose only those who are perfect.
“I told you all along that the problem was me. Every time I thought of opening up, helping Scott, something inside me shut down. I guess I felt like I was betraying Clarice—helping another child when I couldn’t help her. Letting another child into my heart when I’d lost her. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the truth of it. For a long time, something inside me was broken. And in that way, Scott and I are much alike. I understand how he feels—isolated, detached, insulated from emotions. And I want to help him in any way that I can. That said, I don’t want to be the cause of more difficulty. I know you and Jill have to do whatever is best for your son; I don’t want to interfere.”
“I thought we understood each other on that point. It will never be best for Scott. It’s not happening.”
Glory nodded. “I do understand you won’t be moving back in with her. But my . . . presence . . . could lead to more difficulties.”
“Jill will have to under—”
“It’s not just Jill’s attitude that I’m talking about.
“My relationship with Andrew wasn’t always the mess it was in the end. Somehow I allowed it to veer off course so far that it became destructive.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue that it had been Andrew’s doing. She went on, “Maybe there’s something inside me that fueled that destruction. Had I been different, the outcome might have been different. And until I know myself better, I’m not ready to risk all of our futures.” She paused and looked into his eyes. “Not yet.”
He sat waiting.
She said, “Okay, you can talk now.”
“I think that’s a load of bullshit.”
Her eyes widened, and she sat up straighter.
“There is no way in hell that you were responsible for the darkness inside Andrew. It was there long before you entered his life. The fact that you even think our relationship could take such a turn—”
“That’s not what I said! All I’m asking for is some time. I care for you, Eric. I think we can be really good together, but I won’t rush into something. Especially since it’s not just you and me that will be hurt if things don’t work out. You asked if I could accept Scott. I’m answering you as honestly as I can. I’m a work in progress.”
“Aren’t we all?” he said tersely.
“Does it have to be all or nothing? Is that what you want?”
He looked directly into her eyes. “If I say yes?”
Her green eyes took on the same steadfast resolve that he’d seen so often in Tula’s. “Don’t.”
In his mind, when she came to him with her answer, he’d planned on telling her he loved her—no matter what her response. Of course, in his imaginings he’d envisioned a positive reply, followed by declarations of love on both sides. Still, he’d prepared himself for the alternative; if she couldn’t accept Scott, he wanted her to know how he felt. He’d tell her and then he’d let her go. But he hadn’t planned on this half-in, half-out scenario. He was surprised by how much it hurt. Her feelings didn’t begin to touch the depths of his. Telling her he loved her now would be plain bad timing.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to decide the best course. He wanted to say yes, all or nothing, now or never—he wanted her that badly. But when now or never would definitely be never . . .
He drew in a deep breath, knowing he was taking the risk of his life. “I’ve been doing some thinking too,” he said, gravely. “And I want more.”
T
HE GRAY LIGHT OF
dawn was squeezing out the inky darkness of night in the hollow. Glory tossed and turned in the warm bedroom. Her head throbbed, and her eyes were dry and itchy. She’d tried to relax, tried to think of the nights that she’d lain in this bed listening to Granny and Pap talking on the front porch right below her window; remembered cool rain showers that wet the windowsill during spring nights; spread herself out so none of her limbs were touching her torso. But even her old tricks for overcoming the sticky heat failed her.
She hadn’t been able to get Eric’s words out of her head:
I want more.
Eric didn’t have casual affairs. He wanted more. And God help her, she did too. But it scared her senseless to think she might screw this up.
No matter how she looked at it, it boiled down to the same question: Did she want him enough, did she love him enough, to take the risk?
When they’d parted in town yesterday afternoon, she and Eric had decided to give each other a few days without contact to dig really deep and think things through.
Can I live like this for a few days?
She rolled onto her back and ran her fingers from her forehead back through her hair. The pressure as she pulled against her scalp eased some of the throbbing in her head.
She was on an emotional bungee jump. One minute falling so fast and frightened that she nearly called Eric and told him to forget it; she couldn’t take the emotional risk so there was no sense in prolonging her suffering. The next moment, she’d bounce back, leaving her stomach behind, her love making her feel as light as a feather, and she’d almost have to tie herself to the bed to keep from calling him and telling him that she loved him beyond reason, and everything else—everyone else—could be damned.
Lying still hadn’t seemed to cultivate a clear decision. Maybe sweating and exertion would be a better inducer. She heaved herself out of bed and got dressed. After loading a backpack with water and some fruit and a peanut butter sandwich, she wrote a note to Gran, telling her that she was hiking to Blue Falls Pond and would be back by late afternoon.
Checking quickly on Lady and her brood, she saw the puppies in a pile, fat bellies, curled tails, and tiny paws all jumbled, oblivious to the heat. Lady lifted her head and gave a sleepy wag when Glory entered. She stooped and petted the dog. “Take care of Gran while I’m out,” she whispered, then left the room.
Stretching her neck and shoulders, she was looking forward to the long hike and spending time at Blue Falls Pond. She felt confident everything would become clear, as it always had when she sat on the bank of the pond and watched the glittering falls and the halo of a rainbow overhead.
She took a deep breath and went to the front door. Just the thought of being there made her feel like a new woman.
She made it only as far as the front porch. Scrawled across the porch floor in black spray paint were the words:
LEAVE NOW
.
“I don’t know how I missed hearing someone out here. I was awake all night,” Glory told Sheriff Cooper as he took photos of the porch floor.
“It happens. I swear some of these kids are part cat.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you think it was kids?”
“Maybe. Spray paint is normally their weapon of choice.” Then he asked, “Anything else disturbed?”
She spared a look at Granny, standing just inside the screen door with her hands on her hips. Then Glory shook her head, and said, “I took a good look around. Everything’s fine.”
He nodded toward Lady. “Dog didn’t bark?”
“No. She doesn’t know a stranger.”
“Nothin’ wrong with that.” He knelt and scratched Lady behind the ears. She danced from paw to paw, tail wagging, tongue lolling—showing herself for the watchdog she wasn’t.
When he stood, he said, “I’ll have a deputy come all the way up the lane here on his patrols. Just ’til we get this figured out.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. I’d appreciate that.”
He tipped his hat to Tula and headed back to his cruiser.
Glory called, “Sheriff!” She hurried down the steps. When she caught up with him she said softly, so Granny wouldn’t hear, “I’d like to keep this quiet. Please don’t mention this to Chief Wilson if you happen to see him.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Glory returned to the porch, Granny said, “I reckon this person never heard of ‘sticks and stones.’ What a pitiful waste of time and energy.” She started away from the door. “Prob’ly have to paint over it. I’ll get the brushes.”
“Do you still think it could be Jill? Would she drive all the way out here in the middle of the night with her son just to do this?”
“I’d like to think not—Eric’s got his hands full without shenanigans like this.” She disappeared from the doorway.
Glory looked at the words painted on the floor and a chill ran down her spine. Each threat moved physically closer. Where would it stop?
The next afternoon, while Glory dozed in the hammock after being vigilant all night long, she heard a car coming up the lane. Sheriff Cooper had been true to his word; a deputy had driven right up to the house every two hours like clockwork. Granny had busied herself making cookies to give to him on his next pass. The heavenly smell had been teasing Glory’s senses for thirty minutes.
She heard Granny come out of the kitchen and down the back steps.
The car stopped and shut off its engine.
Glory forced her eyes open and lifted her head.
It wasn’t the deputy at all. It was Eric and Scott.
She threw her legs over the side of the hammock and hurried over, trying to reach them before Granny told Eric about the little message on their doorstep.
Granny was just taking Scott into her arms. “Eric called a bit ago,” she said to Glory. “Looks like we’re havin’ overnight comp’ny.”
Eric shifted and looked at Glory. “Sorry. Jill’s down with the stomach flu, and Gail wasn’t home. Half the night shift’s out with the same virus, so I’m going to have to cover a shift.”
Granny didn’t act like she noticed the excuse was directed at Glory. She smiled and jostled Scott. “Oh, we don’t mind, do we? I made cookies, and Lady’s been lookin’ for Scott all day. Let’s go see if we can find her.” She headed back into the house.
Eric handed Glory a small duffel. “Everything he needs is in there.”
She took it. There were so many things she wanted to say, yet nothing would come out of her mouth.
He started to get in his car, then hesitated. “I’ll be here to pick him up for school at eight-thirty. Maybe we could go to breakfast after? I know I said I’d wait, but I don’t like things being left like this.”
Glory bit her lip and nodded.
Eric got in the Explorer and turned around. Glory watched him drive away, knowing her heart would break if he was actually driving out of her life.
Tomorrow. Will I be any braver tomorrow than I am today?
That night, Glory dreamed of the fire. She was fumbling in a smoke-filled room, feeling blindly for the way out. The smell of the smoke grew so strong, it was difficult to breathe. She heard the crackling flames. Lady was barking.
Lady?
Glory sat straight up in bed. Lady’s frantic barks were coming from the hall. The choking smoke was real. The crackle of fire, real.
A tingle of stark terror shot through her body, and she froze.
This can’t be happening! Not again!
The image of funeral markers rose in her mind.
Death. Fire was death.
Granny and Scott!
Glory’s heart slammed into overdrive and she sucked in a gulp of air that made her cough.
She tried to shout a warning, but only sucked in more breath-stealing smoke. She sputtered and gasped.
Think. Stop panicking and think!
The smoke was thick at the ceiling. She rolled off the bed, taking her pillow with her. She ripped off the pillowcase and held it over her mouth and nose, then crawled toward the bedroom door.
Lady ran up and down the stairs, barking her heart out.
Granny’s bedroom was near the top of the stairs, toward the back of the house; Scott was with her.
The tiny night-light at the top of the steps was somehow working. Smoke rolled in waves up the staircase ceiling.
Glory still didn’t see flames. She crawled faster.
Granny’s door was closed.
Glory banged on it hard before she opened it. “Gran!” The single word set off a coughing fit.
She covered her mouth again and crawled toward Gran’s bed.
The smoke wasn’t quite as thick in here. Was the fire at the front of the house? If so, they’d have to get out fast; the bottom of the stairs was near the front door.
Reaching up she grabbed her grandmother’s arm at the same moment that Granny sat up, gasping.
Glory pulled her grandmother to the floor beside her. Then she urged her to move toward the door. “Go, Gran.” Glory coughed. “Stay low,” she rasped. “I’ll get Scott.”
Last night Granny had pushed her full-size bed against the wall and put Scott on the wall side. Glory reached for him, but grabbed only empty air.
She got on the bed, feeling under the covers in case he’d hidden near the foot. Nothing. She ran her hand in the small space between wall and mattress and still no Scott.
Fear got a fresh hold on her.
Frantically, she searched under the bed. Panic shook her good sense when he wasn’t there. When she pulled herself out from under the bed, Granny was still there.
“Go! Follow Lady.” She pressed the pillowcase against Granny’s face.
“Scott?” Granny was wheezing.
“I’ll find him. The door was closed—he has to be in here. Go. I can’t carry you.”
Just then, she heard a man calling from downstairs.
“Up here!” Glory helped Granny toward the top of the stairs.
Lady raced up and down, howling.
Glory saw the dark shape of man heading up the steps. “Deputy Hawkins.” He identified himself. “Help’s on the way.”
“Take Gran!”
He scooped Granny into his arms. “Follow me, ma’am,” he said to Glory as he started down the stairs.
Glory headed back into Granny’s bedroom.
Calling Scott’s name was a waste of precious breath, so she crawled around the perimeter of the room; feeling more than looking for the little boy.
She’d made it about halfway around when Lady shot past.
Glory hurried along after the dog.
Lady stuck her head behind an upholstered chair in the corner.
Glory grabbed her and pulled her back out, shoving her toward the door, dived behind the chair.
Scott was curled deep in the corner, holding his quilt over his face.
Glory pulled him to her. “It’s okay.” She coughed and made sure that the quilt stayed over Scott’s mouth and nose.
There was no way she could crawl and carry Scott too. She stood in a low crouch. Even so, the smoke was more dense than it had been on the floor.
Scott began to cry, which made him cough. He bowed his back, making his body stiff and difficult to handle.
“It’s okay.” She patted his back and moved faster.
The night-light was out. Glory felt along the wall for the stair opening.
“Almost there.”
Her knees nearly buckled when she saw the base of the staircase was in flames.
She could hear the deputy calling from somewhere downstairs.
She shouted, “Get out! Going out the window! The window!”
Please let him get out of here! Don’t let him get hurt trying to get up here.
Scott was choking. She tried to cover his mouth and nose, but he jerked his head away.
She ran back to Granny’s bedroom and slammed the door on the billowing smoke.
The window over the kitchen roof was open. Glory didn’t want to take a chance of putting Scott down to take out the screen, fearing he’d bolt and run.
She held him tight in one arm, braced herself on the upholstered chair, and kicked at the screen. It ripped from the frame. She immediately stuck their heads out for a gulp of air.
How was she going to get out on the roof with him? What if she couldn’t hold him and he fell?
She glanced back toward the bedroom door.
There was no other way.
She drew their heads back inside and sat on the floor. Scott’s stiff legs kept him upright, his face even with hers. He’d choked enough that he’d thrown up on the front of his pjs and the quilt.
“It’s okay, baby.”
She wrenched the quilt from his grasp.
He screamed.
At least while he was screaming he was stick-straight. Glory wrapped the quilt around her back and brought the ends around front and tied them behind Scott’s back.
Then she stood, held him steady with one hand, and balanced them as she crawled through the window onto the shingled roof. It was only one story, but steeply pitched. She scooted along on her backside until she reached the guttered edge.
“Help! Back here! Help!” She paid for her shouts with a lung-tugging coughing fit.
The deputy appeared below. “Is there a ladder in the garage?”
“Just take the baby!” The knot in the quilt had drawn so tight she couldn’t get it untied. She wriggled it lower on Scott’s body until she could get him free. “I’ll lower him by the arms. You catch him.”
The deputy stepped closer and raised his hands.
“Don’t drop him!” she shouted.
The slant of the roof prevented her from finding any leverage to prevent toppling over as she lowered Scott.
She put one knee in the gutter, grabbed Scott by the forearms, leaned back, and eased him over the edge.
He wailed louder.
“A little more!” the deputy shouted.
Glory heard a siren in the distance.
She leaned closer to the gutter.
Something snapped. The gutter fell away from under her knee. She let go of Scott before she tumbled off the roof, hoping the deputy would catch him.
Her back hit a giant lilac bush, scraping her skin and tilting her to the side. She landed hard on the ground on her shoulder. White-hot pain shot across her shoulders and up her neck.
She rolled onto her back, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her lungs.