Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel (33 page)

I felt my eyes widen. “She needs a social worker?”

The nurse motioned for me to walk with her down the hall. She kept her head tilted toward me and her voice low.

“She has a number of different things going on with her. I can’t—”

“I know.”

“She’s stable for now, but her doctor isn’t going to release her until arrangements have been made for full-time care for her.”

“You’re talking about a nursing home,” I said.

“I think so, unless she can afford round-the-clock nursing.”

“She can probably afford it. I’m just not sure she’d stand for it. Or that anybody would last longer than about a day.”

Her blue eyes twinkled. “I gathered that. When I asked her if she had a living will, she told me she wasn’t planning on dying any time soon, unless I knew something she didn’t, and in that case I’d better be telling her right now.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t order you out of the room.”

“She did.”

It felt good to laugh, even for a moment. I wanted to take this woman home with me.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’ll have HIPAA all over me if anyone finds out we had this conversation—”

“What conversation?”

“I just felt like somebody should know.”

“I appreciate it,” I said.

She went back to the nurses’ station, and I turned to greet Flannery, who was hurrying toward me from the elevator. Hank wasn’t even trying to keep up.

“She’s waiting for you,” I said.

Flannery all but danced into the room, to the tune of Ms. Willa’s “Now where have you been?”

“Sounds like she’s glad to see her,” Hank said, mouth twitching.

“And I’m glad to see you,” I said. “Can we talk for a minute? There’s a room right down there.”

Hank nodded and looped her arm through mine as we walked. “How you holding up, Al?”

“Better, now that I’m getting clear on the extra mile.”

“Good.”

She pulled off her bandanna and sank into a chair facing the couch. I sat on its edge.

“Now it’s not just
go
another mile, it’s
love
another mile.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you. That’s all you do is love.”

“Troy Irwin?”

Hank breathed in through her nose. “Well, we did determine that Jesus is talking about your enemies. Troy qualifies.”

“Then I need you to pray for me.”

“Because …”

“I’m going to go see him.”

Hank folded her hands, neatly piling the fingers.

“You don’t think I should,” I said.

“I don’t think you should do it alone. Not in a private place.”

“Not a problem. It’s going to be at the courthouse.”

“When?”

“The minute he posts bail.”

Her eyes popped. “Bail?

I told her about Troy’s arrest. To protect Kade, I didn’t include my issue with Chief. If she knew there was more to it, which she probably did, she didn’t ask.

“When is this going to happen?” she said.

“I don’t know. I have to find out. Today sometime I guess.”

She rearranged her fingers. “And what will you say?”

“I don’t know that either. I’m going to do the only thing that ever really works for me and what I should have been doing a whole lot more of lately.”

Hank’s lips did a double twitch. “Yeah, you pretty much insert a whole shoe store in your mouth when you don’t wait for God.”

“Thanks for that. You’ll pray?”

She held out her hands and I took them.

Hank offered to stay with Flannery at the hospital until she herself had to get to work, and she’d drop Flan at Second Chances on her way. I went out to the parking lot and sat on Classic’s welcoming seat and tried to figure out how I was going to find out when Troy would probably be released. It had to be somebody who wouldn’t (a) try to talk me out of it, or (b) leave me for good without giving me a chance to explain. Somebody who was the very soul of discretion.

Of course.

Tia Davies picked up on the first ring with, “Ellington and Capelli. How may I help you?”

“Hi, Tia.” I said “It’s Allison Chamberlain.”

“Good morning. I’ll get Mr. Ellington for you.”

“No, Tia, I don’t want to bother him. I thought maybe you could help me. I just have a quick question.”

“I hope I have a quick answer.”

I decided she must practice these smooth responses in her spare time. I was grateful for that.

“If someone were arrested on a criminal charge—a white-collar crime—and he or she had the means to make bail, how long would it take for the person to be released?”

“From the time of the arrest?” she said.

“Right.”

“Here in St. Augustine?”

“Yes.” My nerves started to jangle. The more questions she asked, the more information she could give Chief if she mentioned it to him. Then he was going to have
plenty
of questions. Hopefully, this would be over by that time.

She was already answering, and I missed the first part of it. When I tuned in she was saying, “That would probably be between three and five hours.”

I did a mental calculation. Not before noon and not after two. It was ten thirty.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Tia said.

“No. You have been wonderful as always.”

“You sure you don’t want to speak with Mr. Ellington? He just got off the phone.”

“I’m good. In fact …” I hesitated. If I asked her not to say anything to him, that would arouse suspicion. And make me feel like a sneak. If this was right it was right.

“I’m sorry?” she said.

“In fact, let’s just let him keep his mind on what he’s doing, okay?”

Her okay revealed none of the bewilderment she must be experiencing by that time. I was going to have to get me some of that decorum someday.

The wait was brutal. At eleven thirty I finally left the Harley in the parking lot at the courthouse and stationed myself on the shallow steps to wait in the sun that beat down on the cream-white walls. That morning’s September cool had surrendered to a muggy midday, and even without my vest, and with my T-shirt sleeves rolled attractively up over my shoulders, the sweat pooled wherever it could find a place and ran in veritable bubbling brooks where it couldn’t.

I was only intermittently aware of it. The real brutality was in my soul, where I was doing battle and being sorely beaten.

I didn’t want to do this. Face Troy. Try to love him more than I could. Give him more than he asked for. Because that was the thing. I didn’t need another message from God to know that was what this was about. That day on Aviles Street, I’d turned the other cheek. Not my idea, but I’d done it, instead of leaving fingernail marks in his. And that night at Columbia I’d refrained from kicking him in the groin and had given him my cloak, almost literally. He was probably hanging onto that scarf like a trophy.

And somehow that still wasn’t far enough?
Really, God? Really?

I knew the answer. I just didn’t like it. It made me want to vomit; as it was I had to go behind a palm tree twice with the dry heaves. But if I didn’t do this, if I didn’t let God push me away from the hate that was pulling at me, then I was no better than Detective Kylie. And if I didn’t love Troy Irwin one more mile, whatever that meant, I would lose Chief, and I would deserve it.

But Desmond didn’t deserve it, and that kept me there, sweltering on the steps, until one thirty, when Troy came through one of the glass doors.

The ingratiating entourage was still missing. Troy made his exit with one smarmy-looking man with a greasy comb-over and sweat rings under the sleeves of what at one time had been a white shirt.

They didn’t speak to each other when they stopped a few yards from me. The man just handed Troy a sheet of paper and heaved his bulging body laboriously toward the brick walkway. I watched him cross the parking lot to a van with the words
Goddard Bail Bonds
on the side.

“Did you come to gloat?”

I looked up at Troy, standing a few steps above me. His eyes were cruel blue in an inflamed web of red, and the sagging skin around them was refusing to support their struggle to stay in control. As I stood up to face him, I knew I was watching his power drain from his body.

“No gloating,” I said.

“Good, because this isn’t over—”

“Troy, stop. Just … stop.”

He put his hands on his hips and moved his mouth as if he was trying to get rid of something sour. I was sure that was a combination of a sleepless night with a bottle of Southern Comfort and his current nearness to me. I was supposed to love someone who saw me as a bad taste in his mouth?

Go another—

I know. PleaseGodpleaseGodpleaseGod give me the words before I spit.

“So what do you want?”
Troy said. There was no sign of his well-oiled charm.

“That’s what I came to ask you. What do you want from
me
, Troy?”

He looked to one side, as if he were used to someone being there to validate his disdain. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? This isn’t what you said when I was offering you the moon for your whores.”

I swallowed that one. “I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about you. Troy the person, not Troy the …”

Please let me say
jackal
. Please?

Not happening. That got shoved back down my throat, so I started again, while Troy continued to deal with the moss on his tongue.

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry I kept you from knowing you had a son? Or that I ran and—”

“You’re not sorry.”

“I think Kade had a better upbringing than he would have with either of us. But you had the right to make that choice. Even though you wanted me to have an abortion, I should have told you I didn’t.”

“Where is this even coming from?”

Certainly not me. But now that I’d said it, I knew it was right.

I took in a breath. “It just needs to be said.”

“Look, forget it. I don’t have time for this.”

Troy tried to step around me but I put myself in front of him. His usual tennis-court sureness of foot failed him and he almost tripped. When I put out a hand to steady him, he smacked it away.

“I said I don’t have time—”

“We both know you have no place to go,” I said, not unkindly. “What do you need from me?”

“Not a thing.” He inserted a sample of the profanity I’d heard at the police station. “I’m not one of your addicts who needs a rescue.”

“I’m not offering one.” I kept my eyes latched onto his. The fragment of pain I found there kept me going. “This is just us. Ally and Troy. No power play. No guilt trip. No revenge … from either of us. So let’s get down to it.”

“Why?”

“Because you just lost everything, and that means there’s nothing keeping you from starting over.”

Troy put his face close enough that I could smell his hatred of me. “You should be careful what you ask for, Ally.”

“There’s nothing careful about it. We’re talking reckless abandon here.”

“You really are nuts. All right, first of all—” He thrust his index finger under my nose. “I haven’t lost anything but your father’s albatross. I’m independently wealthy. I’m going to rebuild Vilano Beach—”

“From prison?”

I had never heard my own voice sound that kind. For only an instant Troy leaned into it, before his eyes hardened again.

“You know what I want,
Ally
?” he said. “I want
you
to lose everything.”

I felt like I’d been stabbed in the stomach, but I shook my head. “I can’t lose what matters to me. And you want to know how crazy I really am?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “I want that same state of soul for you. Not because you deserve it. Definitely not because I
like
you.”

“You hate me.”

“No.”

I sucked in air again.
Isn’t that enough? Just not hating him—isn’t that far enough?

The answer came in my own words as I said, “I love you.”

The fragment of pain in Troy’s eyes tried to hide itself and couldn’t. Still, he forced a laugh. “I’m not feelin’ it, Ally.”

“Neither am I,” I said. “But I’m choosing it.”

“You don’t just stick the knife in, do you?” He stabbed his fingers just above my left breast. “You have to twist it. And then you twist it, and twist it, and twist it some more.”

With each
twist
he turned his fingers until I let out a cry. He pulled them away, but he kept his tightened lips close to mine.

“That’s what I want, Ally. I want you to hurt.”

He left me standing there on the steps with my hand pressed against my chest. I could barely breathe. I could only whisper, “I already do.”

Me, too,
was the whisper.
That’s the cost of loving as I do.

“Classic.”

I turned and looked at Chief, standing between me and the parking lot I wanted to run to.

“What were you
doing
?” he said.

“I was fixing it, Chief,” I said.

And then I covered my face and wept.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Chief walked me across the drive and onto a mound of grass that displayed one of the palms. By then I had stopped crying and was blowing my nose on my do-rag.

“Tia told you,” I said.

“Did you think she wouldn’t?”

“I think I wanted her to tell you.” I leaned against the trunk of the palm. “I think I wanted you to show up here and see that.”

“I guess I missed it.” Chief’s voice was taut.

“Then see it now.” I put my hands on either side of his face so he would have to look right into mine. “Are you looking at hate?”

“Classic—”

“I mean it. Do you see hate?”

Like the man he always was, threatened or not, he searched with those eagle eyes.

“No,” he said.

“Do you see anger?”

“No.”

“What
do
you see?”

“You’re in pain,” he said.

He closed his eyes. I waited until he opened them again before I said, “That’s what I see in yours, too, Chief. You say you’re working on it, and I believe you, but I’m not sure it’s work you need to be doing.”

His gaze went to the fronds swaying above us. “What do I need to be doing then?”

“Loving.”

“Classic, you know I love you.”

He tried to pull me into him, but I pressed my hands to his chest. “I’m not talking about loving me. I’m talking about loving Joy Ellington."

Chief’s arms dropped to his sides. “Who told you her name?”

“Somebody who cares about both of us.”

“That whole thing is behind me.”

“That whole thing of unresolved issues?”

He looked away, but I took his chin in my hand and pulled it back to me. “I can’t tell you what to do, Chief, but I know, I
know
now that nothing stays behind you until you leave it there in love.” I kissed his mouth. “But not that kind of love.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that doesn’t expect her to give back whatever she took from you. The kind that gives her what she needs.”

“She doesn’t need anything from me,” Chief said.

“Oh, yeah she does.”

“
What
?”

“She’s the only one who can tell you that.”

He started to move, but I stopped him with a hard hug. And then because there was nothing else I could do, I pulled away from the tree.

“I love you,” I said.

And then I crossed the wide drive to where Classic waited for me.

As right as I knew I was, I still had to bring myself back to center before I called Hank to find out where Flannery was. To my surprise, they were both still at the hospital.

“I thought you had a student today,” I said.

“I got a sub. I think you need to get over here and see this.”

I didn’t ask which pile whatever it was belonged in.

Hank was leaning against the wall outside Ms. Willa’s room when I arrived.

“Is Flannery in there?” I said.

“Oh, but definitely.”

That was an understatement. Flannery was
in
the bed with Ms. Willa who, now combed and coiffed, was wiping Flannery’s tear-smeared cheek with a Kleenex. When she saw me, Flannery stopped Ms. Willa’s hand and gave me a watery smile.

“I want to call my mother, and I want to make her give you that signature. And then I want to tell the police everything.”

“O-kay,” I said.

I raised both eyebrows at Ms. Willa.

“You people don’t know how to handle this child,” she said.

“Apparently. You want to tell me your secret?”

She exchanged an eye roll with Flannery. An actual eye roll.

“It’s no secret,” Ms. Willa said. “You just have to stop doing all the work for her.”

I couldn’t even begin to sort that out, and for the moment I didn’t need to. Ms. Willa’s influence notwithstanding, I had to get Flannery on the phone with Brenda ASAP. If she’d even answer now.

“All right, then,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

Hank went to pick up Desmond from school, after assuring me at least five times that she would not let him out of her sight for an instant. There was some comfort in the fact that Marcus Rydell would have a harder time wrestling Desmond away from Hank than from me.

Flannery and I went straight to my house and used Flannery’s phone to call Brenda. I almost cried—again—when she picked up on the first ring.

I still wasn’t expecting much from her, now that the image of her cowering in front of Elgin was branded into my brain. But Flannery herself was strong enough for both of them. Whatever it was Ms. Willa told her she could do for herself, she was doing it as she put it on the line with her mother.

“I’ll sign,” Brenda said. “Ms. Chamberlain, was it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“I can meet you Thursday at noon.”

My heart sank. I really didn’t want to take the chance of waiting that long, but there was enough hope in the woman’s voice for me to agree.

“Your place?” I said. “Or the nursing home?”

As subtle as I’d tried to be, she didn’t bite.

“No. J. T.’s Seafood Shack, south of Marineland.”

“I know where it is,” Flannery said.

“I don’t want you coming this time, darlin’,” Brenda said.

“Mom, why not?”

“Just in case.”

Neither of us asked her to fill in that blank.

“I love you, Flannery,” her mom said before we hung up.

“I love you more,” Flannery said.

I couldn’t help thinking that might be true. Flannery was more the mother than Brenda, just as I’d seen before. Ms. Willa must have sensed something like that too.

I didn’t hear from Chief that evening, which was only one of the many things that kept me awake half the night with Flannery sleeping close beside me. The next morning pure adrenaline got me on the Harley to take Desmond to school, early, so I could talk to Erin O’Hare. After sending Desmond off to class, I located her in the office.

“Allison!” she said, hugging me with arms so full of bracelets they looked like Slinkies. “I’ve barely seen you.” She drew back and scanned my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?” I said.

I glanced at the crowd of tardy kids rushing the counter. Erin nodded and pulled me into an empty glass-walled conference room.

“I need you to keep a really close eye on Desmond,” I said.

“He seems fine.”

“He is. But if he starts acting like he did last spring …”

She nodded, brow puckered, and then her gaze drifted past my shoulder.

“Don’t turn around,” she said, barely moving her lips.

“Who is it?”

“Coach Iseley. She’s lurking.”

“Do you think she heard us?”

“Hard to tell.” I could see Erin watching her leave the window. “She’s been in a really good mood for almost a week now.”

“As in, she’s seeing somebody.”

“As in she’s being wined and dined. That’s all she can talk about in the teacher’s lounge. I leave now when she comes in so I won’t barf.”

So Desmond had been right. For a moment I almost felt sorry for the Mosquito. “Roy” wasn’t going to be in the mood to wine her and dine her that night.

But I shook that off. So none of my business.

“I’ll call you if Desmond starts to slide,” Erin said.

I left it at that.

My next stop was Kade’s office. I wanted to tell him about my conversation with Troy, at least some of it. I could have just called him, but the nervous part of me wanted to get a glimpse of Chief, too.

When I walked into the reception area at Ellington and Capelli, Tia was a little more buttoned-up than usual. I felt bad for putting her in an awkward place with Chief and was about to tell her that, but she got the first word.

“Mr. Ellington isn’t in today,” she said.

“Oh?”

“And I’m not at liberty to say—”

“Of course not. Listen, Tia, I’m—”

“Hey. Just the person I was about to call.”

I looked up gratefully at Kade, who already had his arm out to usher me into his office.

“She’s mad at me,” I said when the door closed behind us.

He grinned as he nodded me to a chair. “You can tell? I think she looks just like she always does.”

“Bless her heart.”

“Bless her heart. You Southerners. Anyway, you don’t know where your old man is either, huh?”

“My old man? You Yankees.”

Kade was still grinning, and again, I was grateful. There had been a real lack of mirth in our little community lately. I hated to let go of it now, but I had to tell him about Troy.

By the time I finished, he was frowning from his perch on the front edge of his desk. “He thinks he’s going to take over Vilano Beach? What is he, delusional?”

“He can’t let go of the power. If he does, who is he? I mean, in his mind.”

“Just in
his
mind?” Kade said. “Actually you’re right. I don’t think there’s anything else to him.”

“There used to be.”

“Huh. Like what?”

I sank back in the chair. “He was a much sweeter kid than I was. He’d play with me for hours when we were little, totally content. But when I got tired of him, I’d just bite him so he’d go home.”

Kade let out a guffaw.

“Then Sylvia would make me go tell him I was sorry.”

“And what did he do?”

I let my mind drift backward, to the clear blue eyes filled with big tears and the sandy hair sticking straight up because he’d pulled at it while he was crying.

“He always said it was okay. He always came back to play some more.”

Kade cocked his head at me. “Really.”

“Really.”

“So what happened to that person?”

“Kade,” I said, “you don’t have that kind of time. I need to let you get back to work.”

I started to get up, but he held up a hand and leaned back to look at his computer screen. “I was about to call you. I got an email this morning from an attorney at Chamberlain Enterprises.”

“Do they want to give you a job?” I said.

“No, but she—a woman named Pix Penwell—wants to meet with us.”

“Us?”

“You and your financial advisor.”

“Did you answer yet?”

“I was waiting to talk to my client.”

“Well, your client says no. And who names their poor kid Pix?”

“End of discussion?”

“End of discussion.”

He was getting to know me well. I tucked that away in the pile of Things To Thank God For.