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Authors: Richard Paul Evans

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BOOK: Walking on Water: A Novel
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It took another full hour to go through the rest of the line. One of the visitors was my father’s friend Carroll, the private investigator who had found Falene for me. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly. “Your father was a fine man. A man’s man. The world’s a darker place without him.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“By the way, did you get my message about the woman you were looking for?”

I nodded. “Yes. Thank you. In fact, that’s her right there.”

He turned and looked at Falene, his gaze lingering on her longer than was appropriate. “Wow, she’s a looker,” he said, finally turning back. “No wonder you wanted to hunt her down. I’m glad that worked out.”

I just nodded, bothered by his assessment but still in his debt for finding her. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anything for your father,” he said. “You make him proud.”

At one point I noticed Nicole talking to Falene. To my relief they both looked comfortable. When the line had finally dwindled, Nicole walked up to me. “Kailamai and I are going back to the house. Do you need anything?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “Thank you for everything today.”

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Good luck.” She walked off. Falene had been sitting quietly in a tucked leather chair across the room. She stood and walked to me. “May I see your father?”

“Of course.”

She walked to the side of the casket. Her eyes filled with tears. I stepped up beside her. She said, “I know you two weren’t always really close, but he loved you. When I was looking for you in Spokane . . . he was so upset.” She turned and looked at me. “What I would have given to have had a father like that.”

A moment later the funeral director walked up to us. “It’s after nine thirty, so I’ve locked the front door,” he said. “It was a beautiful evening—a real tribute to your father.”

“It was nice,” I said.

“I tell you, your father was a pleasure to work with. We don’t need to talk about the details right now, but at your convenience, give us a call and we’ll go over his burial plans in Colorado.”

I nodded my assent.

“Oh, and on your way out remember to take your pictures and medal display. I’m sure you’ll want those.”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to shut the casket now. Would you like another moment?”

“Please.”

The director stepped aside. Again I approached the casket. I looked at him for a moment, then said, “Thank you for being my father. I hope you’re with Mom.” I closed my eyes as they filled with tears. Then I leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and turned to the director. “Okay.” I stepped away from the casket, my eyes still fixed on my father’s body.

The funeral director stepped forward. He reached inside the casket and unlatched the lid, then slowly shut it. Another pang of emotion filled my chest, and Falene put her hand on my lower back.

The director turned back to me. “I need to turn the lights out in about fifteen minutes. You can let yourself out the front door.” He walked out of the room.

I took a deep breath, then turned to Falene. “We can talk in my car.”

“Okay,” she said softly. As long and as well as I had known her, at that moment I couldn’t read her.

I collected the pictures from the display, and Falene carried the case of my father’s medals.

“It’s a beautiful night,” I said.

“It’s a lot warmer here than it is in New York. It was in the thirties at JFK. Maybe not even that.”

“How was your flight?”

“Long,” she said. “The guy sitting next to me had sneaked a fifth onto the plane. He was sloshed by the time we landed. He kept trying to touch me. The police had to carry him off.”

“Lovely,” I said.

“At least he didn’t throw up on me,” she said.

We put the pictures and medal case in the trunk. Then I opened the door for her and she climbed in. I got in the other side and started the car.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” I asked.

“Whatever you want,” she replied.

I drove to the arboretum. It was after hours and the park was closed, but after spending so much of my childhood there I knew how to sneak in. We walked in the dark along the back fence to a section of the grounds near a pond where McKale and I used to catch crayfish. There was a streetlamp about thirty yards from the bench,
providing enough illumination for us to see. We sat down next to each other.

“This is where you got married, isn’t it?” Falene said.

“Over there on the other side of the entry. It’s a little better weather tonight.” I looked into her eyes and could see the moon’s reflection from the pond. “Thank you for coming,” I said.

“I wanted to be here for you.”

“You’ve always been there for me,” I said.

“Except for when I wasn’t,” she replied. I guessed that she was referring to what I’d said to her on the phone, which made me regret saying it even more.

I said, “You asked how I found you. I hired a private investigator. It took him a while to track you down. I think he called every modeling agency in New York.”

She looked at me quizzically. “Why would you go to so much trouble?”

“You don’t know why?”

She lightly shook her head.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out the letter she had written me. “It’s like you wrote: love doesn’t know its depth until its absence. It wasn’t until after you left that I knew how much you meant to me. And how much I wanted you in my life.” I tried to read her face for a reaction, but she looked more upset by my confession than pleased. Finally I said, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

She looked up at me. “You know I care about you, right?”

I hated the sound of that. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “When I was a freshman in high school I wanted to make friends, so I tried out for cheerleading. You had to do this routine. I had never taken gymnastics
or dance classes like the other girls, but I thought that maybe I could watch the others and learn fast.

“The tryouts were held after school. I sat there alone waiting my turn. Just before my routine a couple of the popular girls came up to me. I was nervous but kind of excited that they would talk to me. One of them said, ‘What are you doing here?’ I said, ‘The same thing as you.’ She rolled her eyes and said, ‘I doubt that.’ Then the other girl said, ‘I guess they’ll let anyone try out.’

“I was crushed. I still tried out, mostly just to show them that they couldn’t intimidate me, but it was humiliating. And I failed miserably. They didn’t even let me finish my routine. Those two girls became cheerleaders and I was the girl behind the bleachers with whatever boy wanted me. That experience taught me that the surest way to misery was to try to be something you’re not.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“It has everything to do with us,” she said. “Our worlds are completely different. I wanted to believe otherwise, but I was just lying to myself. Look at tonight. Your father loved you. I don’t even know my father’s name.”

“And that was your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, it’s just what it is. I’m from Stockton, you’re from Pasadena. You graduated from one of the best graphic colleges in the country, I barely got out of high school.”

“And you’re smarter than most of my clients,” I said. “You were a teenager and providing for your family, taking care of an alcoholic mother and keeping your brother off the streets. Half the graduates of Harvard couldn’t have pulled off what you did.”

“You don’t get a degree for survival,” she said.

“In the end, survival is the only degree that matters,” I said. “It’s the core human experience.”

“Have you forgotten who I was before you found me? I worked in a strip club.”

“I don’t care about your past. Look at who you’ve become.”

She shook her head. “Who I’ve become? I’m the same person I’ve always been. I used to think I had changed, but I haven’t. Inside I’m still that same girl behind the bleachers. Even at the modeling agency. Why can’t you see that?”

“Why can’t you see how good you really are? When everything came crashing down in my life, you were the only one who was loyal. The
only
one. When my heart was broken and I was alone, you took me in. When I disappeared in Spokane, you looked for me until you found me. The only other person who has stood by me like that was McKale.”

“I’m not McKale,” she said angrily.

“I didn’t say you were. I said you were loyal like her. And good like her.”

“I’m not good.”

“I
know
you’re good, Falene. I’ve seen it. You don’t think McKale had her faults?”

“McKale never danced nude for drunk old men.”

“McKale was never homeless with a wayward brother.”

She leaned closer and said softly, “Alan, you’re not being honest. I am what I am.”

“You’re the one who’s not being honest. I know who you are, even if you don’t. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

She turned away from me.

“You said you loved me,” I said. “I love you too. That’s the reality.” I took her chin in my hand and lifted her head to look at me. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Falene, I’m willing to take a chance on us. Why won’t you?”

She again turned away from me. Tears rolled down her cheeks. When she could speak she said softly, “Because I can’t, Alan.”

“Why not?” I said. “Give me one good reason.”

She looked back, her eyes filled with tears. “Because I’m getting married.”

I was stunned. When I could speak I said, “Married?”

She again turned away from me.

“To whom?”

It was a full minute before she spoke. “His name is Jason. He’s one of the owners of the agency.”

“How long have you known him?”

She didn’t answer.

“Falene, how long have you known him?”

“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known him.”

“Do you love him?”

Again she said nothing.

“I’ll take that as an answer,” I said.

“Love isn’t everything,” she blurted out.

I must have looked at her for a full minute before I said, “Then what is?”

She sat quietly for a moment, then stood up and walked back the way we had come in. She never answered my question.

The drive to Falene’s hotel was silent except for her occasional sniffling. I tried to think of something powerful
to say, but words failed me. I parked in front of the hotel. We sat a moment in silence, then I said, “Whatever you’ve planned can be undone. It’s not too late.”

She looked at me with red, puffy eyes and said softly, “I love you, Alan. I always will. But it was too late before we even met.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, then opened the door and walked into the hotel.

I just watched her disappear. My Dulcinea. I didn’t think my heart could break more than it already had. But I was wrong.

CHAPTER
Twenty-Three

Two million steps forward, three million back.

Alan Christoffersen’s diary

Nicole walked into my room around noon. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor going through my pack. Clothes and supplies were strewn all around me.

“Kailamai get off all right?” I asked.

Nicole nodded. “Yeah. Her flight was a little delayed, but it finally left.” She sat down on my bed and sighed. “I’m sorry, Alan. I don’t know what to say.”

BOOK: Walking on Water: A Novel
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