The Time Capsule (10 page)

EIGHTEEN

Alexis moved over, but she was careful not to let her mother touch her. She was angry and she was hurt, and she didn’t feel like pretending otherwise. She wasn’t going to be patient and understanding. Not this time. Still, her gaze was drawn to the oversized book her mother held. It was bound between covers of padded moiré satin in a soft shade of yellow. The title,
It’s Twins!
was printed in blue in a fancy typeface that looked like ribbon unfurling.

“I did a good job of keeping this up,” Eleanor said. “Until the two of you were about three. Then . . . well, you kept me pretty busy and I put it aside. I found it again right after Thanksgiving, and I spent hours going over every page.”

She opened the book and Alexis saw two hospital bracelets: one pink, with the words FEMALE CHAPPEL written on it, the other blue, bearing MALE CHAPPEL. On the facing page, she read her own and Adam’s names, birth weights and vital statistics written in their mother’s neat hand. She refused to speak.

“I was shocked when my doctor told me I was having twins,” Eleanor said. “During the last six weeks of my pregnancy, I was confined to bed because you two wanted out prematurely. I wanted you out too, but once you got out, your father and I thought we’d lose our minds.” Eleanor gave a little laugh. “We had the nursery all fixed up with two of everything—two cribs, two dressers, two diaper pails—the list goes on. But every time we put you in separate cribs, you screamed your heads off. Adam was worse than you. He was inconsolable and could cry for hours. Your father and I took turns sleeping and walking the floors with you, trying to make you happy. Then one night, in desperation, I put Adam in your crib facing you, and he stopped crying.

“Your father and I slept that night like we hadn’t slept in weeks. When we got up the next morning, the two of you were asleep and your arms were around each other. I think that’s all either of you wanted, just to be together. You shared the same crib until you were three months old. Then we put the cribs side by side, so that you could see each other last thing at night and first thing when you woke up in the morning.”

Alexis didn’t need her mother to tell her how close she and Adam had been as children. She had memories of her own, just not ones that went that far back.

Eleanor flipped through the pages of the baby book filled with Alexis and Adam’s shared history. “You always had the magic touch with him, Ally. You seemed to know what he wanted when he cried. When the two of you were toddlers and he’d cry, you’d get up, waddle over to the toy box and bring him just the thing that would make him stop crying. If
I
tried to guess what he wanted, he’d throw whatever I gave him on the floor and yell louder.”

“But then he got sick.” Alexis finally broke her silence.

“Yes. And I all but lived at the hospital with him, while you and your father fended for yourselves.”

“I missed you both.” Feelings of loss bubbled up within her. She remembered the ache as clearly as if it had all happened yesterday.

“I know. So did your father. But I felt so responsible for keeping Adam alive. I was afraid that if I let down my guard for a minute, he would die.”

“But he got better.”

“And then he relapsed and got better again. His doctors told us that if he passed the five-year mark, the odds were that he’d completely recover. After that second remission, year one passed, and his checkups were good. Then year two. I thought, ‘Thank heavens, it’s over.’ I discovered that if I stayed busy enough, I didn’t have time to think about losing my son. That’s why I became a realtor and why I worked for Larry. I stayed as busy as I could. But when Adam relapsed this time, I knew it wasn’t over. I realized Adam was on loan to us—all children are on loan, you know. You give birth to them, you take care of them, you raise them, but eventually, they leave you. One way or the other.”

“College—” Alexis started.

“Or a job, or getting married. That’s the natural order of things. Adam’s leaving is unnatural. But we can’t stop it.”

Alexis felt tears sliding down her cheeks.
Unnatural
. . . Her mother had it right.

Eleanor lifted an age-yellowed envelope from between the pages of the baby book. She opened it and removed two thick clusters of light brown hair, one tied with a pink ribbon, the other with a blue one. “These are from your first haircuts. Touch them. Feel how soft.”

Mesmerized, Alexis took the hair clippings and cradled them in her palm. They were as soft as down, and in the lamp’s light, they shone.

“I love you both so much,” Eleanor said, her voice catching. In the silence of the room, a clock ticked. “I know this is crazy, Ally, but the first time Adam got sick, it almost broke our family apart. This time, his illness has brought us back together. Believe it or not, you are responsible for this togetherness, in part. And for that, I will always be grateful.”

Tessa wept when Alexis told her what was happening to Adam. They were standing in the parking lot after school. The sky was the color of cornflowers and was decorated with plumes of billowing white clouds. A tropical breeze danced around them. “And he knows?” Tessa asked, wiping her teary eyes.

“He knows.”

“So any day now—?”

“Yes. It can happen at any time.” Alexis held herself rigid, afraid she’d break down if she didn’t.

“Can I . . . Do you think I can visit him more often?”

“I’ll ask.”

When Alexis asked, Adam shrugged. “I don’t know why she’d want to.”

“Because she cares,” Alexis told him.

“Speaking of caring, I don’t see much of Sawyer hanging around here.”

“He’s busy with soccer.”

Adam eyed her skeptically. “Is that all?”

Truthfully, they had never made up after their fight. Alexis figured it was better that way. She missed him, but she didn’t have the energy to continually butt heads with him. “As soon as soccer season’s over, we’ll be tripping over each other,” she said. “Just you wait and see.” She handed Adam a party bag splashed with the words GET WELL. “By the way . . . Tessa and I made this for you.”

He pulled away the tissue and lifted out a dark brown teddy bear. The stuffed toy wore a baseball cap and held a bat emblazoned with the word SLUGGER. It wore a tiny T-shirt marked with the insignia of their school baseball team. On the back of the shirt was a large #1. Adam grinned. “He’s cool. Thanks.”

“We thought you deserved a bear of your own.”

“I should call Tessa up and thank her.”

“You should call her up and invite her over and tell her goodbye.”

Adam’s gaze searched his sister’s for a long time. At last he said, “I should have picked her instead of Kelly.”

“Yes . . . I’ve always thought so too. Which is something else you can tell her.”

“It’s too late now.”

“It’s never too late, Adam. Not as long as you have breath to say the words.”

He reached up his hand. “You’re a great sister.”

She laced her fingers through his. “And you love me, right?”

“And I love you,” he echoed.

Alexis stood outside the door of Mrs. Wiley’s room, taking deep breaths to steady her nerves. The halls were empty. She’d waited in the library until the buses had left and the parking lot was devoid of student cars so that she could see Mrs. Wiley privately. She rapped gently on the door.

Mrs. Wiley glanced up from the paperwork spread across her desk. “Alexis!” She smiled broadly. “Come on in. Sit.”

“I—I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s never a bother to see one of my favorite students and captain of the best debate team I’ve ever coached.”

Alexis groaned inwardly. Mrs. Wiley wasn’t making this easy. She took another deep breath. “I have to tell you something.”

Mrs. Wiley looked expectant.

“Mrs. Wiley, I’m not going to state with you.”

The smile faded from the teacher’s face. “What?” The team was to leave on Thursday for Tallahassee.

“I—I can’t leave,” Alexis said. “Adam’s too sick. If something happens to him while I’m gone, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

“Oh, Alexis, I do understand, but we’ll only be gone three days. You’ll be home Sunday night. And the team’s counting on you.”

Alexis shook her head. “I just can’t go. Maybe nothing will happen to Adam if I go, but I can’t take a chance.”

Mrs. Wiley slumped in her chair. She looked befuddled. “I—I don’t know what to say. You’re the team captain. You’re our top debater.”

“Tessa can do it. She’s really better than I am in a lot of ways. She’ll lead the team, and she’ll fight to win.”

“Of course she’s good, but you—”

“Won’t be there,” Alexis stated firmly.

Mrs. Wiley pursed her lips. “I was going to save this until we arrived at the hotel, but professors from Stetson are coming, at my special request, just to observe you.”

Alexis felt her heart squeeze, but still she shook her head. “That was nice of you, but I—I can’t.”

Mrs. Wiley removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She released a deep, weary sigh. “All right, child. I know you well enough to realize you’ve thought this through, and I shouldn’t be putting pressure on you. It’s just that we’re so good with you on the team. You’ll be missed.”

Alexis shifted her book bag, knowing that once she walked out the door her high school debating career would be finished. “Thank you. I’d be glad to call everyone on the team and explain.” She’d already told Tessa, who hadn’t even tried to dissuade her.

Mrs. Wiley said, “No . . . you have enough on your mind. I’ll tell the team.”

“Tell them that they’re very good and that they can do this with or without me.” She turned to leave.

“If you change your mind . . .”

“I won’t,” Alexis said over her shoulder.

She made it out of the school and into her car in the parking lot before she broke down and cried.

The debate team left Thursday afternoon for the state capital. On Friday morning, Eleanor woke Alexis up. “Hurry, get dressed. Adam’s breathing is bad. Your father’s called the paramedics and they’re on their way.”

NINETEEN

At the hospital, Adam was checked in to the ICU and put on a ventilator. “It will help him breathe,” the doctor told Alexis and her parents. “But he won’t be able to speak with the tube down his throat if he regains consciousness.”

“
Will
he wake?” Blake asked.

The doctor’s expression was sad. “That’s doubtful. His body’s pretty well worn out. His liver function is almost nil, and his kidneys are failing too.”

Alexis felt the doctor’s words in her soul. Adam would not go home again.

“H-how long?” Eleanor’s voice trembled, and Blake put his arms around her.

“Hard to say exactly. Maybe twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish we could have helped him.”

Alexis returned to the waiting room where she’d spent the night when they’d first brought Adam to the hospital months before. In the daylight, the room appeared shopworn and dingy. Two other families were hunkered down, awaiting turns to visit their loved ones in the ICU. For Adam’s family, there were no time restrictions on their staying with him. They could come and go at will since the end was near.

Alexis found a couch off to one side of the room and sat down to collect her thoughts and tattered emotions. She didn’t want to fall apart in Adam’s room. A nurse had told them that hearing was the last of the five senses to go for a patient, and Alexis wanted to be strong for Adam’s sake.

“Hey, pumpkin. Can I join you?”

She looked up to see her father. “You haven’t called me pumpkin since I was six.”

“That’s when you told me not to call you pumpkin anymore because you were too big and it was a baby name.” A little smile crossed his mouth. “You’ll always be my pumpkin, you know.”

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to locate that little girl for him again. He looked tired and older than he had ever seemed to her before.

“Do you want anything?” he asked. “Food? Coffee?”

“I want to call Tessa, but I know she’s right in the middle of the tournament, and it wouldn’t be fair to tell her this now.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be with your team. I know how hard you’ve worked.”

“It doesn’t matter. I want to be here.” She leaned on his shoulder and he put his arm around her. “Daddy, this is so hard.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ll never have another son.” His words stabbed at her heart. “I’m glad I came home for lunch every day this past month. Did Adam tell you?”

Surprised, she shook her head. He had not told her.

“We ate in his room. And we talked. Gave your mother a break too.” Blake stroked Alexis’s hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t take more time to get to know him better sooner.”

“Adam understood.”

“There’s no excuse, Ally. A person can’t buy back lost time.”

Alexis felt tears well up. Ultimately, Adam’s illness had afflicted all of them. Like a destructive moth, it had eaten into the fabric of their family, leaving holes none of them had mended. “For so long, you and Mom were like strangers. I thought you didn’t care about us anymore. . . . I was scared.”

“Defensive mode,” he said. She saw the stubble of his beard on his chin, dark, mixed with gray. “If you don’t care, then you can’t get hurt. Trouble was, I couldn’t not care no matter how hard I tried or how many long hours I worked. Back then, the notions that my son was sick and his doctors weren’t sure they could make him well just didn’t compute for me. There I was, one of the best-known attorneys in the city. I fixed things for clients. I solved problems for people all the time. But I couldn’t fix my own son. The feeling of total helplessness almost did me in, and instead of pulling us all closer, I disappeared into my work. I handled things badly, and I regret that.”

Alexis picked at her fingernail polish, then looked up. Her heart began to hammer, and she knew it was time to ask him the question that had been on her mind for months. “Dad . . . I saw you in a restaurant once with another woman. She was blond and young and pretty. I wasn’t spying. . . . It just happened.”

His face reddened, but he didn’t say anything. Alexis squirmed and wondered if she’d stepped too far out of bounds. Maybe it would be better to
not
hear his explanation. She wasn’t sure she could endure more bad news.

“Her name is Amy,” her father said eventually. “She’s a law clerk at the firm—bright, energetic, not unlike you. She looked to me as her mentor, and I was flattered. I took her to dinner twice. But nothing ever happened between us, Ally.” He lifted her chin. “Nothing. I have never been unfaithful to your mother. We’ve had our rough spells, but I’ve never loved any woman but her. And that’s the truth.”

Alexis felt relieved, but also embarrassed to have even asked the question. In her eyes, her parents had once been perfect, her father a god, her mother the queen of the world. She saw them now as ordinary people, flawed and desperately trying to find purpose and reason within a darkness too vast to comprehend. A darkness that was about to swallow them all. Her heart hurt and her mind felt numb. Both her parents had come to her with their confessions, and she realized that both wanted absolution from her. She was the one who remained. She was the one who held their shared memories of things done and things left undone. She was their daughter. Their only daughter, and the keeper of their dreams.

He stood. “I should go stay with your mother.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” She watched him leave, knowing she would wait before going in to give them time together to be with their only son.

Around five in the morning a sense of urgency woke Alexis from a sound sleep. She gathered up her belongings and returned to the ICU room where her parents held vigil over Adam. She dragged a chair alongside theirs, and curling her legs beneath her, she joined their bedside watch. The rails on the bed were up, and she reached through them and put her hand over her brother’s to connect them with each other.

By seven o’clock, and with the hospital’s shift change, she noticed people drifting into the unit, nurses and caregivers whom she recognized from the oncology floor where Adam had stayed for so long. They came in quietly, touched his motionless body, and left. Often, they had something kind to say, like “Your son was the nicest kid I ever cared for,” and “Adam brought so much happiness to the floor. Everybody liked him,” and “He was one in a million. Like a big brother to the little kids.” Their words and gestures brought Alexis comfort, and she hoped Adam somehow knew how many people cared about him. He gave no sign that he did know. The ventilator did its job of breathing for him. The monitors kept track of his vital signs.

The end came gently. His heart simply stopped beating. A monitor let off a loud whine that caused them all to jump. A nurse came running. She switched off the machine. The only sound was the hiss of the ventilator. “He’s gone,” the nurse said.

Gone
. Adam’s soul, his essence had vanished from their time and space. “Turn off the ventilator,” Blake said.

She did, and the air stilled. “You can stay as long as you want,” the nurse told them, fighting tears.

Alexis felt a tearing inside her mind, a rending, a sense of aloneless she had never felt before. She could no longer reach through the bed’s rails and touch her brother’s life. He had gone someplace without her, and only her own death would allow her to meet him again.

Suddenly the room seemed to close in on her, and she could scarcely catch her breath. “I—I’ll be down the hall,” she mumbled, and left on wobbly legs.

Outside the unit, the air felt cooler, less suffocating. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself, looked up. The hall was dimly lit, but she saw someone standing down by the elevator. He was backlit, but there was no mistaking the tall, square shape, the tousled hair. She broke into a run, and Sawyer opened his arms. She threw herself against him, sobbing. “Adam died.”

“I’m sorry, baby. So sorry about everything. Please forgive me.”

“H-how did you—?”

“Tessa told me you weren’t going to state. When I got home from school, I called you and I kept calling, but there was no answer. I finally figured out where you must be, so I came.”

His arms closed around her, and she clung to him. He was her anchor in this sea of agony. He was her safe haven, and for the moment, he was her home.