Walk on Water (33 page)

And none of that was what Doris was talking about. She was talking about what she and her Edgar had had. I envied her that, but I was happy for her too. If Mommy had had an Edgar she might have been so much happier and I would have had a father.

“I love him, Doris,” I heard myself admitting for the first time ever out loud to another human being. “But that doesn’t mean I get…His moth—”

Doris pressed a wrinkled but soft finger to my lips, silencing me.

“Have what you like, Rachel,” she said, reminding me of the wine clerk/wine server. “It’s your choice this time. So trust your judgment, and don’t you dare let anybody persuade you otherwise.”

I desperately wanted to believe her, but how could I? I felt my eyes welling. Doris squeezed my hand supportively.

“Let me tell you something about Betty Sterling,” she said. “I’ve been her friend for almost fifty years. I know her, maybe better than she knows herself. That kind of thing happens when you love somebody for that long.

“For a long time Betty and Tom thought they weren’t going to have any children. Then Luke came along, but the doctors told her no more. So she poured everything she had into that child. Yes, she’s the worst perfectionist you’ll ever meet, but she’s no harder on anyone than she is on herself. And so she made that boy perfect or tried to anyway.

“When Luke had the accident, she dropped everything and went to him. She was gone for months. Tom would visit all the time, but Betty stayed. I know what you’re going to say, any mother would do that, but Betty believed that she had to succeed where the doctors and Christina could not. She was determined that boy would walk again. He had to be perfect again. But it didn’t work out that way, and it almost killed her. You see, she had never failed at anything in her life, and now when it mattered the most, she had failed.

“She came back here and took to her bed for I don’t know how long. It was like somebody had died to her. I guess somebody had, her idea of who Luke was. Then when he and Christina divorced and he moved back to Dallas…Well…You know how people talk. They said Christina divorced him because he was a cripple. Never mind that people get divorced all the time for all kinds of reasons. I suppose attributing it to him being disabled made him an object of pity. Elizabeth Sterling couldn’t handle that, people feeling sorry for her child. She convinced herself that if Luke would only try harder, then he could walk again, and get his perfect life back. Then Christina would want him back. He was supposed to show them, or Betty would. Well, you see how that turned out. She thinks Luke let her down. She blames him for giving up.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, Doris,” I said. “You know Luke, if he could he would. He doesn’t like failure either.”

Doris shook her head.

“He’s Betty’s child,” she replied. “To the core. But you’re the trained counselor, Rachel. You’d be out of a job if people made sense. So anyway, they’re kind of stuck in this preposterous death-match. But really it’s not Luke fault. He’s just trying to accept what happened and get on with his life.”

“She wants him back with Christina,” I said dejectedly. “Is that why she hates me?”

“I don’t know that she hates you, Rachel. And no, I don’t think she truly wants him to be with Christina. You don’t have any children, do you?”

I shook my head.

“No brothers?” asked Doris.

“No,” I replied.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve seen it in your work, the way mothers can be about their sons. And Luke’s an only child too. There’s not a woman in the world, including Christina, that can be good enough for him in her eyes. Except herself. The thing is,” Doris hesitated before going on. “Now in a way, she doesn’t think he’s good enough for her.”

“That’s horrible,” I said.

“I know,” Doris sighed. “It does seem that way. But it’s really because she insists that Luke has a choice. She thinks that if he would just try harder, he would get better. It could be that what she hates is what you represent to her: a compromise. People will say he turned to you because Christina left him.”

“That I’m his consolation prize,” I added using Mommy’s words.

“Okay,” agreed Doris. “That’s one way of putting it. But Betty’s on the outside looking in. What matters is what you and Luke think. What if you’re his
grand
prize? The one he’s meant to be with. The one he’s always wanted.”

I couldn’t imagine that. That Luke might really love me like that, the way I loved him.

“Él es mi novio,” I said, trying to claim the possibility anyway.

“What does that mean?” asked Doris.

I smiled.

“That you’ll also need to take a Spanish course,” I replied.

Doris chuckled and then leaned back against the cushion again.

“I’ve probably told you way too much about this family,” she confessed. “But I am not a gossip.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured her leaning back against the cushions too. “Client confidentiality is also part of the training.”

We shared a laugh.

“It’s just that I got a very good feeling about you, Rachel Cunningham,” said Doris. “I see the effect you’re having on Luke. It’s been a long time since he’s been this happy. He was always such a good boy. It broke my heart too when he got hurt. I categorically hate cell phones.”

“People have to be careful with them,” I said.

“And put them down sometimes.”

We were quiet for a moment.

“We’re going to be good friends, you and I,” Doris declared when she spoke again. “I want you to be my mentor,” she said patting my hand warmly.

“If you’ll be mine,” I replied smiling at her.

“Done,” she said. “Now do you think I’m going to be able to put these shoes back on,” she wanted to know, kicking one of the gold pumps.

“I don’t know,” I replied, a little concerned. “Do your feet swell?”

“Honey, there comes a time in every woman’s life when swollen feet is the normal state of affairs. If you’re smart you learn to buy bigger shoes.”

“They do say you should only go shoe-shopping in the afternoon just in case.”

“Here you are,” said Luke appearing at the door to his father’s study. “I wondered where you were.”

“Not hiding in the bathroom,” I said beaming at him as he came into the room.

“She’s been counseling me,” said Doris. “When I grow up I want to be just like Rachel.”

“Like you’ll ever grow up, Dot,” Luke laughed.

“Hey,” Doris giggled herself. “You watch your manners.”

Rolling over to the sofa, Luke reached down and picked up Doris’ shoes, setting them in his lap.

“Put your shoes on ol’ lady,” he scolded. “This is a very high-brow occasion.”

“Well give your ol’ Aunt Dot a hand,” she replied, plopping her feet onto his lap too.

Watching Luke gently massage Doris’ feet before she stuck them back into her shoes, which he held for her as though she were
Cinderella
, I fell another whole league deeper in love with him, and a little in love with Doris as well.

“We should probably get going,” he then said to me while Doris playfully kicked her heels together.

“The night is young, my dears,” Doris informed us.

“Maybe, but I need to get out of this chair,” replied Luke stretching his back and shifting his weight, the action seeming to cause his left leg to shake in a brief spasm which all three of us ignored.

“Tsk, tsk,” said Doris standing up. “Excuses, excuses. Just tell the truth. You need to get away from us. I don’t blame you.” She winked at me again. “If my Edgar were here I’d be
needing
the same thing.”

“You’re a dirty old woman, Dot,” Luke charged with a grin.

“And I used to be a
dirty
young one. I’ll call you tomorrow. I want Rachel’s phone number. She’s agreed to be my mentor. So you must share her, Lucas Sterling, you got that.” She wagged her finger at him. “I don’t want to have to fight with you but I will. Good night, my dears.”

And swollen feet or not, Doris—or Dot—sashayed out of the room.

.

THIRTY

I
lay across Luke, my head resting on his chest, and watched his clock radio creep steadily towards the hour when I’d have to get up and leave him. It was Sunday morning. Mommy would be waiting. Besides,
novia
or not, I couldn’t stay here like this all day—or forever. I sighed and Luke soothingly stroked my back.
Don’t be greedy, Rachel,
I told myself.

Luke had already made his trip to the bathroom and so had I. Our bodies, having had all of their biological needs and desires met between last night and now, were relaxed and still. Beneath my cheek I could feel the faint up and down motion of Luke’s chest as he breathed, his dark hair like the soft bristles of a brush against my skin. Perhaps this was my favorite part of the day, when we were quiet like this, our thoughts unspoken but communicated anyway, in the touches between us. It was twenty years ago and as if nothing had happened; and it was now as if what had happened was all over, requiring no consideration. The
we
we were was as fresh as anything, and yet time-tested and proven true.

When I thought about heaven I wondered if this was what it was like, a transcending of the physical self, of our bodies, so there were no imperfections and limitations, just the pure essence of who each of us were, in our flawless forms as God had created us. This was how it must be so that we could in fact
sing God’s praises for ten thousand years
and longer, an
amazing grace
.

Luke had already put the coffee on to brew too, and its aroma wafted through the house. It was nearly seven-thirty. It was time to get up. Lifting my head I begin to kiss Luke’s chest tenderly, with no other intent but to adore him. Slowly, deliberately, I made my way up to his mouth, but pulled away from him before our passions could ignite.

Easing out of bed, I slipped on Luke’s robe and went to the closet to get the church outfit, a brown skirt and a beige sweater, that I had hung there last night. I smiled back at him, but he still didn’t say anything and neither did I. Grabbing my small carry-on bag that I usually brought with me when I was spending the night, I went into the bathroom and closed the door.

By the time I came out again, reasonably dressed, my hair pulled back, wearing tinted lip gloss, and smelling of
Juniper Breeze
, Luke was out of bed and I assumed in the kitchen. I slipped my feet into the comfortable pair of brown flats that I had also brought, and then packed up everything else that was mine, except for my toothbrush.

Luke would be making the bed later, but I took a moment to straighten out the linens, knowing that once I went into the kitchen, this latest episode, with its marvelous plot twists, in English and in Spanish, would be over until next time. Maybe tonight even. Maybe tomorrow night. But soon again. Luke liked having me around, and it really did feel like I had won the
grand prize.

I wondered at myself, how I had been able to survive all those years hopelessly separated from him, playing a worn-out cassette tape over and over again, terrified that the tape would break, leaving me nothing at all to hold onto. At least Doris would have her reassuring, beautiful memories of glorious years with her Edgar to sustain her. I had had hardly anything, most of which had been piercingly painful. Even now I could still see Luke walking out of the church with Christina on his arm, and all the people congratulating them, probably Doris too, wishing them every happiness while the pink satin dress squeezed the breath out of me.

Yet despite all the evidence and my very worst fears, he hadn’t been walking away forever. For whatever reason, Luke had come back. Not walking, no, but as wonderful as I had never been able to forget, and even more so. According to the old saying, youth was wasted on the young. Well maybe love was too. The way it felt now, with a little gray in the hair, a little softness in the middle, it seemed more sacred, and all the sweeter for it.

I carried my bag into the family room and set it down next to the sofa. Mommy didn’t like to be late for Sunday School, but at least there was time for a cup of coffee with Luke before I had to go. He was at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, my very own lovely combination of
Cliff Huxtable
and
Mark Darcy,
with his reading glasses perched on his nose. He looked up at me and smiled.

“Last night’s dress was definitely hotter,” he observed returning to his paper. “But that’ll do.”

“Thank you, I think,” I replied. “And speaking of last night,” I added going to pour myself a cup of coffee. “I thought I was going to have to pull that velvet lady off—”

I stopped midsentence when I noticed a dark blue envelope leaning against the box of
Splenda.
My name was written on it.

“What’s this?” I asked.

Surely it wasn’t a Christmas card. Luke wasn’t into that. And it wasn’t my birthday. Maybe it was a Christmas present, some kind of gift card. There was some weight to it.

“Luke?” I said looking at him, holding the envelope.

He peered at me over the top of his reading glasses.

“You can’t give me my gift today,” I protested. “We said Christmas night. We agreed. After family time—”