The Winding Road Home (18 page)

Rusty picked up her own coat and followed him down the stairs. “And I need a smoke. I figured she'd balk at first, but she'll be all right once she gets used to the idea. She'll realize it's a good opportunity. It'll look great on her résumé. But what did she mean about temporary being too long?”

“I'm not sure.” They hurried outside. “Thanks again for dinner. I'll see you before you go.”

“Right. Bye.”

Tanner jogged to the corner of the alley. Rounding it, he spotted Kate down the block, running as fast as her short legs would carry her. He followed, keeping his distance, watching until she entered the house.

Hesitating, he stood on the curb across the street. Much as he wanted to go knock on the door, he sensed Kate was the type of girl who preferred to do her crying in private. He would respect that. For now.

During the opening hymn at the Sunday morning church service, Graham exchanged a look across the aisle and two pews up with Deputy Cal Huntington. The look indicated they would be talking in the near future.

Adele smiled up at him and nudged her shoulder against his arm, reminding him the hymnal was open for a reason. He joined in the singing.

Last night they had agreed on maintaining the status quo. In his vulnerability, he knew he was growing dependent on her company. In the norm, he would have fought against that. But then, he was losing sight of what the norm was anymore. He never imagined God granting him the ability or desire to love again. That it was happening under the present circumstances completely bewildered him.

Jesus, I don't have a choice. Is that it? I have to trust that You're in this.

Adele tugged on his sleeve, pulling him to sit down. When he settled next to her on the pew, she slid her hand into his. Status quo meant they still held hands while he averted his eyes from her lips. For how long this could go on, he didn't know.

But then I really don't know much.

She was incredibly naïve. He kept looking for cracks in it, for a glimmer of falsehood, of distrust, of evidence that she believed the world owed her one. He couldn't find any of that, increasing his desire to protect her. The discombobulating thing of it all was that he knew the source of her danger: It lay in Graham Logan.

He paid the service only partial attention. What might appear as distraction to Adele was simply him praying unceasingly for forgiveness.

After the service, as they greeted others in the crowded foyer, a woman caught Adele by the arm. Adele introduced her as Lia Huntington. A moment later the women were head-to-head and Graham was catching a nod from Cal, who stood near the front door. Two minutes later they were in the parking lot, enjoying a breath of air laced with an early hint of spring.

“Graham.” Cal wasn't smiling. “I was hoping you might fill me in. Save me a lot of time from trying to figure out why the dean of Northwestern's history department has never heard of you or Lawrence Neuman. Or how, as of late last night, your name appears on their Website's faculty list. Or where you got the strings to pull that off.”

“You work fast, Officer.”

His face went rigid.

Of all the schools in Illinois, I pick Northwestern, which just happens to have connections in Valley Oaks?
God must be in it. There must be a reason for this conversation. Perhaps for the simple fact that he was growing weary of carrying the secret alone.

“All right.” Graham smiled. “I appreciate you not bringing this up in front of Adele. Do you mind uncrossing your arms? Maybe smile a little, like we're anticipating the Bulls game today? It's a long story.”

He didn't budge. “Give me the short version.”

“My name is Graham Logan. But I'm not from Chicago, nor am I a professor at Northwestern or anywhere. Five years ago my wife was killed, an act of revenge against me.”

The face behind the beard softened. Graham knew the information he was about to divulge would go no further until it was time.

Kate heard a commotion in the other room, but she couldn't pinpoint its source. She was lying on the couch in her sitting room, wrapped like a cocoon in a comforter, keeping her head as motionless as possible. Old-fashioned heavy draperies were drawn across two windows, shutting out bright afternoon sunlight.

The pain and nausea had started last night as she ran home from Tanner's place, her head along with every muscle and joint feeling as though she'd been hit by a Mack truck. It wasn't from a truck or the flu. She knew it was her mind and body shutting down, a defense mechanism keeping her from having to deal with the full force of reality.

She slept as if anesthetized, another nifty defense mechanism that didn't leave her in the least bit rested. The dizzying head pain and nausea were there when she awoke along with a bone-deep chill. Awhile ago she had attempted going to the kitchen, dragging the comforter from her bed behind her, but she had made it only as far as the couch.

It didn't matter. She would deal with life later. Her emotional turmoil would dissipate. She would seek God's perspective and try to accept it little by little. For now she simply wanted life to go away.

She heard the swoosh of the wooden door sliding into its pocket between the walls.

“Kate?” It was Adele's voice coming from a great distance.

She didn't respond, a combination of not wanting to and being unable to.

Muffled voices. The door swooshing again, clicking shut.

“Hey. Are you in there?”

Tanner?
No, not Tanner! He complicated things to no end.

She felt the comforter lift from her face. She opened the one eye not scrunched against the pillow.

Oh, no!
Despite the fact her glasses lay in the other room, she saw it.
He's still cute.

“Hi.” He was eye level with her, from a sitting position on the floor beside the couch. “Missed you at church. Yeah, I went. I even went in and sat down after Adele said you were home sick.”

She blinked her one eye.

“Flu?”

“It's contagious,” she mumbled.

He smiled. “I doubt that.”

He knew.

“Kate, I brought over your new toy. I thought you might want to play with it.”

Her eye filled. “I'm dizzy,” she whispered. “I can't see straight. My stomach hurts so bad.”

“I can fix that.” He disappeared from her limited view.

The door swooshed open, slamming against the far end of its space. “Oops. Sorry.”

She winced.

The tear dribbled from the inner corner of her eye, slid sideways across her nose, and dove onto the pillow. She had experienced such vertigo and nausea only three times in her life. Once when she first learned of her mother's illness. Once when mononucleosis postponed a college term. Once when she lost a chance at a summer job in a Springfield legislator's office.

All unintended turns in the road, twisting the straight way into a labyrinth. God surprising her. God testing her. Refining His gold.

The door swooshed shut, clicked into place.

She heard Tanner moving about, and then she felt his arms grasp the blanket around her legs. He pulled, inching her along the couch.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.” He tucked the pillow back under her head and disappeared again. “Adele gave me this. Here's an outlet. Okay.” He came back into her line of vision and held out an electric heating pad. “Here.”

Something like a whimper sounded in her throat.

“Now, now, Katelyn, don't be a baby. It'll help.”

She reached out from under the cover, took the pad from him, and pulled it back underneath with her hand. Doubting its effectiveness, she pressed it against her stomach.

Tanner sat down on the couch beside the pillow, at her head. He placed a hand on her cheek, turning her head until both eyes faced upward. His palm was rested lightly against her cheek, his fingertips stroking her temple.

“It's a good thing you don't get angry too often if this is what happens.”

It hurt to talk, but she had to explain. “I'm not mad at Rusty.”

“I didn't think you were. I'm sure you're mad at the situation. Understandable.”

“I'm upset with God.”

“Whoa. What does He have to say about that?”

“He forgives me. He loves me.”

He smiled. “He is one quirky God, and you are one quirky redhead. And you're both growing on me. Kind of like mold.”

She giggled.

“Mind if I watch the game? I'll keep the volume low.”

She closed her eyes and whispered, “No.”

At the moment she wouldn't mind anything…except Tanner Carlucci taking his hand from her cheek. She fell fast asleep.

The Bulls still trailed in the third quarter and Kate still slept. She hadn't budged when Adele came in and offered Tanner tea. At halftime, when he went to the kitchen to make coffee, she merely rolled onto her back and snuggled more deeply under the blanket.

He had never seen her without the tortoiseshell glasses sliding down the bridge of her perky little nose. He had never seen her so inert before either. The bundle of energy was revealing a different side altogether.

“Hey.”

He looked down and saw her eyes open wider than their previous slits. “Hey, yourself,” he said. “I was just thinking how watching the game with you is like watching with the guys. You don't interrupt with unnecessary chatter.”

She smiled crookedly. “This is necessary. I've been awake for a while, biting my tongue, but you look like you're going to burst a blood vessel. I only interrupted to say don't hold back on my account.”

He turned back to the television, pointing the remote and notching up the volume. “It's only a game.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He sensed her move from the couch and leave the room. Twenty minutes later in TV basketball time, after seriously, loudly questioning the referee's last call, he lowered the volume and looked up.

Kate was setting a tray on the coffee table. It overflowed with sandwiches, potato chips, sodas, carrots, celery, and cookies. She sat on the floor near it and crossed her legs. “Hungry?”

“Thanks.” He joined her, resting his back against the couch and accepting the plate she offered. “This looks great. I take it you're hungry, which means you must be feeling better?”

“I am. Thanks.” She moved in a stiff-necked way, though, as if she still hurt. Her glasses were in place, and she wore gray sweats and fuzzy slippers. Her hair was brushed, but not pulled back in its usual manner.

They ate in silence for a few moments.

“Tanner, thank you for sitting with me, but you shouldn't have. You have so many things to do.”

“I wanted to. Besides, Sunday is a day of rest. I like
that
idea.”

“And which one don't you like?”

He chewed slowly, wondering how to phrase it. “The pastor talked about forgiveness today. He gave real-life examples of people forgiving others who had committed the most heinous crimes against them.” Tanner took another bite.

She waited, tearing bits from her sandwich, not eating, watching him.

Something about those green eyes that never condemned pulled it from him. “My dad. Not exactly heinous, but I can't. No way. Never in a million years.”

“What did he do?”

“The usual. Left my mother and us three kids for another woman when I was thirteen. Until that day, I didn't have a clue there was a problem. I mean, he wasn't around as much as some of the other dads. He never had time to coach, but he always came to my games. He always took us on vacation.” Tanner continued eating.

“What happened after he left?”

“We scarcely heard a word from him, but we never needed anything that money could buy. No sirree.” Tanner heard the bitterness in his tone. “He stood by us financially. He was always buying us expensive things and depositing chunks of money in our bank accounts. Still does. Such a hokey way to make up for his absence. Anyway, the fallout was typical. By the time I was sixteen, I only stayed sober during basketball season.”

Kate wiped an eye with her napkin. “I'm sorry.”

“Obviously I'm still angry. And I don't see a reason to forgive him.”

“Does your anger hurt him?”

“I doubt it, but I get this morbid satisfaction from knowing he knows I'm mad. That he can't point to me proudly and refer to our idyllic father-son relationship. He's got a three-year-old son now. Maybe he'll get it with him.”

“I can't imagine how that must hurt you.” Her voice was on the verge of tears.

He shrugged it off, the innate macho response ripping a hole somewhere deep inside of him.

“My dad was the complete opposite. He's always been so loving and kind, not that he let us get away with anything.”