Good Hope Road (29 page)

He raised a brow at me, I imagine because he was surprised to hear me asking after Jenilee. I’m sure he remembered I’d been to the school a time or two complaining about that big brother of hers and how he hot-rodded up and down my road and run over my chickens.

“You sure are taking an interest in Jenilee.” He smiled a little at me, like he’d caught me in a joke.

“Well, you know she pulled me out of my cellar and saved my life, and Lacy’s too,” I told him.

Nolan nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. Jenilee’s had to be a pretty tough cookie, given her home situation and the way her father is.”

I nodded, feeling a heaviness inside me. It was guilt. “I feel pretty bad, thinkin’ about that now,” I admitted. “We folks in this town are usually pretty good, Christian people, but we all pretty well sat by and let that man treat Maggie and the kids any way he pleased. Instead of steppin’ in to give them some help, we all just turned our heads and pretended like we couldn’t see it.” I looked Nolan hard in the eye, because I knew he done the same thing. He tried a couple of times talking to Jenilee’s daddy, but when things got ugly, he backed off like the rest of us. “It ain’t a right thing to do, to let something like that go on, a man treatin’ his wife and kids so bad, cuttin’ them off from everyone and everything.”

Nolan nodded, bracing his hands on his hips and looking down at his shoes, his shoulders bent forward. He looked whipped. “I know you’re right, Eudora. These days we’ve got so many that come from dysfunctional families. It’s sad to say it, but kids like Jenilee and her brothers just kind of fall through the cracks. If they’re passing school and they don’t show up with bruises, they get left alone. It isn’t right, but that’s the way it happens.”

“Well, that is just a terrible shame.” I felt sad and angry and helpless all at once.

“Yes, it is. Jenilee’s probably one of the smartest students we’ve had, but she’s never had any encouragement at home. She’s had to live with a mother who was dealing with depression and then terminal cancer, and a father who came home from Vietnam with mental problems and probably a drug and alcohol addiction. I really always hoped she’d leave Poetry and go on with her education.”

“She needs to do somethin’,” I said. “Somethin’ better than get together with that lowbrow on the floor. That ain’t no kind of future.”

All of a sudden, I realized Dr. Albright was standing there with us, listening to every word we said.

Rubbing my forehead with the pads of my fingers, I tried to ignore him and think about how I was going to do something about Jenilee. No matter what idea I thought of, it seemed like there were a hundred other problems I couldn’t find a cure for. She was so far from any kind of decent life.

Lord, please send a miracle,
I prayed.
We need you to send a miracle; that’s all there is to it. This problem is bigger than I can fix on my own. You gotta send something to change it all.

Beside me, the old letters rustled in the breeze.

I looked at the new one Jenilee had hung there. It matched the other two, the paper old and yellowed, the handwriting the same neat cursive as the very first letter Jenilee had found. It was the wife’s handwriting, this time written not to her husband, but to her daughter. I leaned close so I could read the words.

 

 

D
rew started making plans for how to handle things at the hospital before we were even halfway there. “When we get there, you go on in to see Daddy,” he’d said to me. “Nate’s supposed to go have his cast checked; then we’ll come up to ICU and I’ll take him in to see Daddy.” I wondered why he wanted to be the one to go with Nate. Was it just because he would be better able to help Nate maneuver through the maze of doors and elevators at the hospital?

“All right.” Did Drew dread going into Daddy’s room alone, just as I did? Or was he afraid I would be too emotional and might upset Nate?

In the backseat, Nate stared out the window, not seeming to hear our conversation.

“Nate, Drew’s going to take you down to have your cast checked, then bring you up to ICU,” I reiterated in a louder voice. “Is that all right?”

“I guess,” Nate muttered, cutting a quick glare toward Drew’s back, then turning his gaze out the window again.

I rubbed my eyebrows, disappointment prickling in my throat. Their time together this morning hadn’t smoothed the waters. Nate still looked at Drew with all the bitterness that had been building over the past eight years.

“Be careful on your crutches,” I said. “You’re still pretty unsteady. If you need help, ask Drew, all right?” I thought of the way Nate had insisted on dragging himself into the backseat of the pickup without help, even though the cast was heavy. Nate was in pain and covered with perspiration by the time he got in. “If you hurt your leg, you’ll be back in the hospital again.”

Nate didn’t answer.

“You know that, right?” I pushed. “The doctor said you have to be really careful these first few days.”

“I know,” he conceded finally. “I’ll be careful.”

The conversation ended there. We drove the rest of the way to the hospital in silence. None of us spoke as we entered the lobby and parted ways.

Nate was feeling better when he came back from the visit with his doctor and we met up in the ICU waiting room. His smile lifted my spirits as he told me the doctor said he was amazed by his progress. Nate’s smile faded when he asked me, “How’s Daddy?”

I paused, not sure what to say. Daddy had looked worse when I went in, ghostly pale, his face sunken at the cheeks and temples, the bones jutting out, skeletonlike. He hadn’t responded when I talked to him or touched his hand. I hadn’t stayed long. Unable to bear the deathlike specter, I had gone back to the waiting room long before Drew and Nate arrived.

Behind Nate, Drew’s gaze caught mine, searching for hidden meanings as I replied, “The nurse said he’s about the same today.”
How much more should I tell him?
I didn’t want Nate to go in unprepared for how bad Daddy looked. “He looks pale today, but I guess that’s normal after so much surgery.”

Drew’s eyes flickered with worry as he turned to take Nate to Daddy’s room. I held Drew’s gaze for a moment and shook my head, so that he at least might be prepared.

They left, and I stared into the bright afternoon outside, wishing I could feel the warmth of the sunshine, smell the summer air, experience something that wasn’t sterilized and artificial. I tried not to think about Daddy in his cubicle of wires, machines, and stark white walls. Closing my eyes, I pictured the clouds floating by and tried to be somewhere else.

My mind snapped back to reality when I heard Nate come in the door on his crutches. He made his way carelessly across the room and sat heavily beside me on the couch. Dropping the crutches, he sagged forward, exhausted, his head in his hands.

I reached over and rubbed his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have come,” I said. “You should have stayed home and rested your leg. We could have waited until tomorrow to have your cast checked.”

“It’s not my leg,” he muttered. “I just wish Daddy would of woke up. I wanted to be here when he woke up. I wanted to tell him I was sorry.”

“Nate, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” I leaned over so I could see his face. “You have to get past feeling like this is your fault.”

Drew walked in the door and sat down on the other side of Nate.

Nate didn’t seem to notice. He hunched over further, lacing his fingers behind his head, looking defeated. “I can’t help how I feel about it. When I look at him in the bed like that . . .” He shook his head, his hands gripped so tightly the knuckles were turning white. “I just want him to wake up. I want to tell him he was right. I should of gotten out of there and gone for help.”

Drew laid his hand on Nate’s shoulder, his fingers touching mine. His voice was steady, comforting. “Nate, the doctor said it was a miracle you got out of that car and made it up the embankment at all. He said even if you’d done it sooner, Daddy’s injuries would still be what they are.”

Nate shook his head. “Daddy said—”

“Daddy doesn’t always say the nicest things,” Drew interrupted. “You know that, Nate. We’ve all got to face the fact that we may not ever get what we want from Daddy. We’ve got to face the fact that he might not wake up at all.”

Nate jerked away from us, heaving himself to his feet and grabbing his crutches. “Don’t you say that!” he hollered. “Don’t you say that about Daddy.”

I stood up, reaching for Nate, afraid he would fall. “You heard the doctors, Nate. They said it could go either way. They said we have to be prepared, in case—”

“Stop it!” He turned away and started unsteadily toward the door on his crutches.

“Nate, wait!” I hurried after him as he hobbled into the hall. “Stop! You’re going to hurt your leg!”

Drew caught up to us as Nate hit the elevator button and the doors opened.

“Nate, take it easy,” he said.

Nate shrugged his hand away and barreled into the elevator. The two of us followed.

“Nate, please settle down,” I pleaded.

Drew tried again. “I wasn’t trying to get you upset, Nate. I just want you to be ready, if—”

“Shut up!” Nate spat. “Just shut up.” He jerked away, falling against the wall.

Drew raised his hands palms-out, afraid to get close to Nate again. “Nate, you’re just worn out. It’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going home with you!” Nate screamed, stumbling as he tried to get his crutches under himself before the elevator reached the ground floor. “Darla’s coming to get me. I’m going to her house so I can be close by when Daddy wakes up.”

Drew’s voice rose to match the volume of Nate’s. “What are you talking about, Nate? Darla’s not here, and Darla’s not gonna be here!” He threw his hands in the air, his face red and drawn with anger.

Nate’s crutch slipped on the tile and he fell against the wall again. “She’s coming. I called her house and left a message on her machine while I was in the doctor’s office by myself. I’m gonna stay here and wait for her to get me.”

“You are not!” Drew roared. “I’m sick of hearing you talk about Darla!”

Nate’s eyes, white-rimmed around the bright blue centers, flashed daggers. “Darla understands! Darla knows how you are!”

“Nate!” I gasped, but I could tell by the look on Nate’s face that he was beyond reason, saying the worst things he could think of to bait Drew.

Drew waved me away. He punched the stop button on the console, and the elevator jerked to a halt; then he advanced menacingly toward Nate. “Whatever you think you know, you don’t know! Darla lies. She’d say anything to make me look bad.”

“Darla’s not lying! Darla knows how you are. You ran out on her and your kids just like you ran out on us.” Hopping on one foot, Nate raised his crutch and swung it, aiming for Drew’s head.

Drew dodged the blow, and the crutch skimmed past him, crashing against the elevator wall and taking Nate with it. Nate hit the railing hard and landed in a crumpled heap in the corner.

Drew started toward him, and Nate swung blindly with his fist. Drew caught Nate’s arm in midair, leaning over, his face only inches from Nate’s.

“Go ahead!” Nate screamed, his eyes glittering and his lips trembling. “Go ahead and do it! Do it! Prove you’re just like Daddy! That’s what you want. You want to prove you’re just like him, so you have an excuse to run out on everybody!”

“Stop it, Nate!” I fell to my knees beside Nate. “Stop it! This is wrong!”

“I don’t care!” Tears brimmed in Nate’s eyes. “I don’t care about him.”

“Yes, you do, Nate,” I pleaded. “Yes, you do. We both do.”

“No, I don’t! He ran out on us. He ran out on Mama. Mama died because he left!”

I sucked in a startled breath, the air rushing cold into my body. I’d never, ever seen Nate so filled with anger, so vengeful. I swallowed hard, trying to sound calm. “Nate, Mama died because she had cancer.”

Nate tried to jerk his arm out of Drew’s grasp, but Drew held on. “He’ll do it again.” Nate glared at Drew, sobbing, tears running down his face. “He’ll leave again.” He swung at Drew with his other arm, knocking me off balance so that I toppled to the floor, too. Drew caught Nate’s other wrist, and they hovered in a stalemate. Nate tried to jerk away, and the muscles in Drew’s arms tightened, holding him still.