From The Dead (27 page)

A pause.

“Do you miss her?” Eden asked.

He mulled it over. “I thought I would. We’d been
knotted together for years, kind of like a habit—a bad one, it
turned out.” He shrugged and chewed on a diced tomato. “Things got
rocky toward the end. We started to coast; she became bored with
the relationship. It crashed and burned. Finally, she broke it off
and kicked me out of the apartment. Her name was the only one on
the lease.”

Eden furrowed her eyebrows, as if she sensed a
missing detail. “So why did you turn back to Ohio?”

Jesse pursed his lips. “Why not? Where else would I
go? Besides, the thought of Cait haunted me, drew me home. Jada
knew nothing about Cait or the pregnancy, but she could tell I kept
secrets from her.” He paused. “I’d gotten tired of it anyway, I
suppose—tired of putting on a false front. I mean, even the palm
trees are spaced apart perfectly. Remember? All along Ventura
Boulevard.” He speared a trio of kidney beans with his fork. “At
this point, I even look forward to the first foot of snow
here.”

He heard Eden crunch on a taco chip. When she
swallowed, she gestured toward him with her fork.

“I think the life’s returned to your eyes since you
came back—the life that seemed missing on the coast,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I missed having you around. And
Cait’s played a big part, too.” His fork clinked against the plate
as he set it down. “What a contrast between Caitlyn and Jada,
huh?”

Eden feigned surprise. “Oh, you noticed?”

“Jada seemed exciting when she and I first met. She
personified what I searched for: the exact opposite of what I’d
come from. That’s where it ended, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“She had no depth. Not like Caitlyn. Look at Cait’s
compassion, her patience …”

“Deep down, I believe Caitlyn saw those qualities in
you, too.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Maybe she did.”

* * *

Late that night, as Jesse lay in bed, he squinted at
a lone stream of moonlight that filtered through lace curtains into
the otherwise pitch-black room. From the open window, a gentle
breeze trickled in. He could hear the hypnotic tick of a clock,
which emanated from another room and teased the silence.

His alarm clock taunted 1:41 a.m. Nowhere near sleep,
Jesse got out of bed. He pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, shoes and
socks. From the dresser a few steps away, he grabbed his keys and
cell phone—
funny how we grab that along with our keys
nowadays,
he thought—then slipped out of the house.

Beneath a starlit sky and a half moon, Jesse immersed
himself in the stillness of the night. He walked down Route 91,
which, by this time, lacked the hum of automobiles in the distance.
When he arrived home at this hour after late film shoots in L.A.,
he used to rush down the street to reach his apartment. Only in the
Midwestern suburbs could he walk alone in the ink of night and feel
secure. While others slept, this present tranquility afforded him
the chance to clear his head and gain perspective.

The air felt so fresh here. Unblemished by angry
particles of smoggy tar. Pure.

He reflected on his argument with Chuck and the
subsequent discussion with Eden. Regret settled in with regard to
his father—not a regret of torment, but a reaction of love to a
father who exuded love. Perhaps Jesse himself needed to change.
Yes, he admitted to himself: After years of carefree—and, in the
end, uncommitted—living, he had bypassed certain aspects of
maturity. In the past, he merely needed to get by.

But no longer. Like a foreign piece to a mismatched
puzzle, such an approach to life proved unfitting and
unwelcome.

Life seemed different now, enhanced for the better.
His perspective broadened. He had a child he vowed not to turn his
back upon.

On his right, he turned into a neighborhood and
walked down streets awash in a streetlamp cascade. Jesse felt his
skin glow in the balmy July air. The moon, which cast fluorescent
beams across the homes, also instigated shadows around the corners.
Row after row, darkened house after darkened house, this community
slept.

He reached into his pocket. Cell phone in hand, he
flipped it open and dialed Chuck’s phone number—his office number
to avoid waking him. At the voice-mail cue, Jesse paused. He didn’t
have a speech prepared. No explanation to justify his behavior or
his lack of regard.

Instead, he spoke from the simplicity of his
heart.

“It’s me,” he said. “I’m sorry.” How many arguments,
what lack of appreciation and recognition of value, he sought to
cover with that single phrase. “I’m just … I’m sorry.”

He lowered his head, snapped the phone shut—and
savored the wave that washed through his fibers. Another good
decision stacked upon the others. Step by step.

As he took a deep breath, he stopped for a minute and
took in another glimpse of the moon. He watched as it assumed the
role of backlight for thin clouds that crept across it like
paranormal fingers.

Tired at last, he turned around and headed back to
Eden’s house.

CHAPTER 43

“Ready to go?” Jesse asked as he strolled into
Blake’s shop.

He caught Blake and Eden in the midst of flirtation
at the counter.

Eden pecked Blake on the lips. “I’ll meet you there,”
she said and headed out the door.

Blake admired his girlfriend as she left, then turned
to Jesse. “Almost ready. I need to wrap up a few things up before I
leave.” He snatched a tiny container from the counter and tossed it
to Jesse. “Here, take a bottle.”

“What are these, pills?”

“Vitamins. It’s a new brand. Just got a bunch of
samples the other day.” He thumped Jesse on the chest. “Have you
taken your vitamin today, young man?”

Jesse rolled the container in his hand.

Blake proceeded to lock the door—he closed up shop at
six o’clock on Friday evenings—and rang out the day’s totals at the
register. The shop was empty, his assistant gone.

“I hear you’re seeing Caitlyn again,” Blake said.

“I don’t know if ‘seeing’ is the right word, but
we’ve spent time together lately.”

“Long time since that happened, huh?”

“That’s for sure. She’s much the same, though.”
Blake stopped for a second. “I don’t think I’ve seen her since she
watched our games in high school.”

Guarded, Jesse wasn’t sure how much detail Blake
knew, and he didn’t want to open the floodgates.

Back at the counter, Blake noticed Jesse’s hesitation
and shut the cash register’s tray. “Eden told me a couple of months
ago, after you returned—about Caitlyn and Drew, that is. I hope
that doesn’t bother you.”

“No, I’m not concerned about you,” Jesse replied. But
Eden had promised she would tell only Blake. “Does anyone else
know?”

“Nobody else. She swore me to secrecy,” Blake said.
“But I wanted to let you know you have another person in your
corner.”

Jesse nodded. “So how serious are you and Eden? She
wouldn’t confide in you if she didn’t see long-term potential. Is
marriage inevitable?”

Blake shied away. “I’m sure it is, but not for at
least another year. I’m ready to expand to a second shop; I want
that established beforehand so Eden would have solid support.” He
ran his thumb up the palm of one hand. “I know marriage is a dream
of hers.”

“That’s an understatement. She started planning her
wedding when she was eight years old.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Blake snickered. “But I think
it’s deeper than that. For her, it represents more.”

Jesse’s approval of his sister’s boyfriend continued
to grow. “How so?”

“She and I haven’t discussed the why behind the
what,” Blake replied. “But I believe it’s because your mom died so
young. I think Eden wants to be a wife and mom—the wife and mom she
never got to have firsthand.”

“It didn’t seem to bother her as a kid. I asked her
about it, and she seems to cope fine.”

“She’s a strong person. She manages it well. I’ll bet
it didn’t surface until she was a teenager, and that’s when you
headed out of town. At that point, she only had to downplay it from
you on the phone, plus a week whenever she’d visit you.”

“I guess you’re right.” Jesse mulled it over. “All
this time, she’s held strong for me while she hurt inside.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t quite like that,”
Blake said. “More like it’s buried inside her, and it comes to the
surface now and then. She’s fine; it’s just that there’s an empty
hole there.” Blake gave the countertop a decisive tap with his
fingertips. “And eventually that hole will be filled.” He paused,
then asked, “How
did
your mom die, anyway?”

Caught off guard, Jesse exhaled and tried to decide
where to begin.

Blake stopped him. “Sorry, man. No need to answer. I
didn’t mean to pry; I’d wondered but didn’t want to bring it up
with Eden.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jesse replied in a
matter-of-fact tone. “I was three years old back then. I don’t
remember much about Mom—just minor details, like her long hair,
same color as Eden’s. I remember her hugging me one day when I was
a year old, maybe because there are so few memories to choose from
and that one’s branded in me.” Jesse grinned. “I do remember her
belly getting huge and my asking why, even though she’d told me
several times already—I guess a kid can’t fully comprehend it, so
he keeps asking. When she told me a little brother or sister slept
inside, it amazed me. I asked what kind of clothes it wore in
there.

“One day, back when we lived in Albuquerque, my
grandma picked me up from preschool, which struck me as odd because
Mom always picked me up. I asked Grandma why she came to get me.
She said Dad had to take Mom to the hospital to have the baby, so I
would stay overnight at Grandma’s house. Grandma and I played kid
games all evening.” Jesse paused as a shiver crawled up his spine.
“Then a phone call came in the middle of the night. Grandma had one
of those rotary phones, and its bell ringer pierced the silence in
her house. I could hear her answer in her bedroom, but her voice
sounded muffled from where I lay. Even as a kid, I thought she
sounded excited, then a bit concerned. But I drifted off to sleep
and forgot about the call.

“The next morning, Grandma seemed sad. Dad came by to
pick me up—this was long before he was a preacher. I asked him
where Mom and the baby were. Dad said the baby was at the hospital
and that we were going to see her—‘your baby sister, Eden.’ He
didn’t say anything about Mom.

“When we got outside, I asked about Mom again.” A
film of tears glazed the surface of Jesse’s eyes, but he blinked
them away. He refused to shed anything in public. “Dad stopped
walking. He seemed tired—not impatient with me, just … tired. He
took me by the hand, and led me to Grandma’s backyard. He sat me
down on the back porch steps and knelt down to face me eye to eye.
‘Mommy’s in heaven.’ Those were his exact words, sort of said them
under his breath. ‘Why?’ I asked. Dad told me giving birth had been
tough on Mom—and she had died. He tried to explain death to my ‘kid
brain.’ I pictured her sitting on a cloud.”

Embarrassed he’d even asked, Blake said, “I’m sorry.
Don’t tell me any more—I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, I want to,” Jesse said. “I haven’t talked about
it in so long, and it follows me everywhere I go.” Jesse took a
deep breath and continued. “Dad explained the situation to me when
I got older. During the delivery, Mom experienced complications, so
they needed to do an emergency C-section on her. She started to
hemorrhage and lose blood fast. It happened in the mid 1980s, when
they discovered some of the blood supplies tainted with HIV.
Everyone was on high alert, and for a while, they didn’t know which
blood supplies were safe. Some doctors were scared to use the blood
and made individual judgment calls. So when Mom started to lose her
blood, the doctor hesitated to expose her to a transfusion. He
believed she would make it through the emergency, but soon the
situation got worse. When he finally decided the transfusion was
necessary …” Before his next words, Jesse seared his lips shut for
a moment. “It was too late,” he said. “They lost her.”

In a trance, Jesse shook his head. His own nosebleeds
had sparked memories of his mother’s blood loss, which, in turn,
had introduced a fresh aspect of heartache. Yet Jesse pressed on
with his story. His face blushed from emotion. “Dad wasn’t a
Christian at the time, so he didn’t know anything about prayer—said
he didn’t even
think
of praying.

“Dad told me that in the weeks after Mom’s death, he
spent a lot of time in solitude, withdrew from everyone except Eden
and me. While he was alone, he says, he could sense God’s hand on
him, a touch of compassion. He could sense God’s help as he
balanced full-time work with single fatherhood. When Dad came
through the ordeal, he says, he looked back at how God had
protected and cared for him and his kids.
He wanted to know that
God.
That’s when he became a Christian. And not long after
that, because he’d felt God’s love and comfort through the storm of
loss, he knew he wanted to become a minister. Says he wanted to
help others to know that love.”

To preserve his friend’s dignity, Blake avoided eye
contact with Jesse. But it proved unnecessary: Jesse, who absorbed
himself in his story, had forgotten where he was and to whom he
talked. His cheeks and nose felt hot from the sensation of
restrained adrenaline.

Jesse stared at the floor in downcast concentration.
He shook his head in disbelief. “What kind of God would allow such
a thing to happen to two little kids? To allow a little girl to
never meet her mother? I don’t understand. It’s not disrespect,
just frustration. Confusion.” He looked up at Blake again. “I had
blind faith as a kid. But when I got older, these questions came to
mind. And I don’t have answers for them.”