The Winding Road Home (30 page)

He handed her a box of tissues. Her face was beet red. Great sobs racked her body, and he longed to hold her.

Tears filled his own eyes. He wanted to die and be spared the knowledge that he had caused this.

Several minutes passed before her crying slowed. Her breathing was ragged. “Why didn't you come sooner?” Her voice was a raw whisper, her tone accusatory. “Ten years ago? Five years ago?
Any
time before
now?”

Graham heard the implication.
Now
meaning before he was on his deathbed.

Rand said, “I wasn't ready.”

“Why didn't you tell me
sooner?”

Rand nudged Graham's shoulder. The old man didn't have the breath for the long answer, and so Graham began, “We couldn't just walk in and announce it. With all the baggage between you two, we thought there was a good chance you'd turn us away.”

“You could have called or written! Given me a warning!” She addressed her words to her father. She hadn't yet taken her eyes from him.

Graham went on, “There wasn't time. At first he was too ill from the chemotherapy and the radiation. When the treatments were no longer beneficial, we had to move quickly. He thought his best chance of winning your forgiveness was for you to get to know him as you would a complete stranger. As if you'd never known him before.”

Fresh tears streamed down her face. “You are a complete stranger! You don't resemble R.J. Chandler in the least!”

Rand said simply, “Thank God.”

Graham waited while she cried silently. “Adele, he also wanted time to get to know you and Chelsea. To find out what he could do for you. To try to make up for the lost years.”

“And so you bought me something.” She wiped her tears and took a deep breath. “Money always did cover a multitude of sins. The thing is…” She stood clumsily, stepping around Graham. “It would have been more acceptable from a
stranger
.”

He stood and intervened before she said anything else she would later regret. “Adele, you need some time to sort through all this. Why don't you go home?”

She nodded and looked down at Rand. “It's too much. I don't know you. I—”

Graham touched her elbow, intent on ushering her out before Rand started sobbing. “Kate will pick you up.”

“Kate?”

They walked to the door. “I asked her if she'd be available. I figured there was a chance I wouldn't be driving you home.”

Adele stared at him. “I don't know you either, do I?”

Before he could open the door, she had it yanked back and was rushing down the hallway.

Kate leaned against the nondescript sedan parked in the circular drive at Fox Meadow's main entrance. She studied the low brick building and its pretty yard. Yellow tulips and daffodils waved gaily. The place looked like Adele's home.

She saw her coming now, through the glass doors. At least she thought it was Adele.

The woman was out the automatic door before it was completely open. Her face was contorted, her eyes red and swollen. Something dreadful must have happened.

“Adele?”

“Will you take me home?”

“Of course. Get in.” She walked around to the driver's side.

Her friend remained silent until they had driven out to the highway and were going 55 miles per hour. Her breath more or less shuddered through her. “Kate, I'm sorry. I've just been through… I have no idea how to describe it. I don't have a clue who Graham Logan is. And Rand Jennings…” Another shudder. “Rand Jennings is really R.J. Chandler. My father.”

Kate stared at her until the car began to drift toward the shoulder.

Adele was rambling. “He came from
Baltimore,
not Chicago! How did they do it? All that paperwork? Names, dates, doctors, hospitals. They must have forged it all! How would they know how to do that? How did they get away with it?”

“Whoa! Back up. Graham's friend is your
father?”

“He says he is. He doesn't resemble the man I knew eighteen years ago in any way, shape, or form. My father is a huge, overbearing prig. That man in there is small and charming and one of the kindest men I have ever met. And he loves Jesus.”

The two images didn't compute in Kate's mind. She couldn't imagine how Adele was reconciling them in hers.

“Adele, he loves Jesus.”

She turned a dazed face toward her.

“Which means Jesus obviously, totally changed him from the man you once knew. Wow. That's truly awesome. Isn't God awesome? Beyond anything we can think or imagine! To see such an outright, black-and-white—” One glance at Adele cut off her ecstatic stream. “Don't you think?”

“I don't know what to think! I'm angry he didn't come sooner. Why didn't he change eighteen years ago? Why didn't he tell me even last month?
Now
what am I supposed to do?”

“Forgive him?”

“I did. A long time ago.” And then she began to cry.

Saturday afternoon Tanner sat in his little glassed-in office behind the store's checkout counter. Betsy was in the front room, glued to the video playing on a television suspended from the ceiling. There were a few people browsing through video titles, a few young teens playing Ping-Pong in the back room. Things were running smoothly as he reorganized his desktop.

For the third time since calling his dad three hours ago.

Kate would be proud of him for making that call. He imagined her elfin demeanor, her voice cheering him on. “Oh, Tanner! It's an act of forgiveness!”

He wanted Kate to be proud of him. He wanted to have a clean slate before her because in spite of his accusations to her last night, she was nearly perfect. In many ways, but most of all in the fact that she could lay her head down at night with no regrets. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But it wasn't only her voice he sensed. There was a new inner voice within him. When he was quiet long enough, he could feel it, like an air current lifting him along, steering him a direction he hadn't considered. It was the source of that voice that he wanted to please even more than Kate.

And so he had called his father, because he knew somewhere in the core of his being it was the right thing to do.

Forty-five minutes later when the man himself walked through the door, Tanner battled the usual instant reaction. Like a wave of solar heat, shame rolled over him, creating a burning sensation about his ears.

His dad wore pressed black slacks, a crisp white shirt under a gray tweed sport coat, and a proud expression. Brows raised, he remained just inside the door, eyeing the place with sweeping glances.
Here, Kate, is the original Mr. Macho Cool.

Tanner couldn't shake the old feeling, but he stood and went out to greet him. Passing Betsy, he asked her to turn down the video.

“Dad. Hi.”

“Hi, Tanner.” He shook his hand. “You are out in the boondocks, aren't you?”

“It's a world unto itself. Bet you didn't have any trouble finding the store, though.” He smiled.

“No chance of getting lost in this town.” He chuckled.

“Well,” he spread his arms, “this is your investment. How about the grand tour? Over here,” he stepped to the front door, “we have a handy-dandy return slot. Videos can be returned twenty-four, seven.” He led his dad up and down the three short aisles, pointing at the racks, mimicking a tour guide's tone of voice. “Videos are organized by category. Here's drama, comedy—”

“Dr. Carlucci!” A short, round-cheeked elderly woman greeted them. “You probably don't remember me. Edna Harmon.”

His father shook her hand. “Of course I remember you. We took care of that nasty tumor in your abdomen. How are you?”

The woman beamed. “Never better. It's been four years.”

“That's wonderful.”

“This young man must be your son. He looks like a younger version of you.”

“Yes. This is Tanner. He owns the store.”

She shook Tanner's hand. “Well, you have a lovely place here. I never liked coming in when that other owner was around. He was a rather unpleasant man. Your selection is much better too.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harmon.”

“Call me Edna. Have a good day. Bye now.”

Tanner walked her to the door and opened it. “Come back again.”

“Oh, I will.”

He rejoined his father, who was introducing himself to Betsy. The man knew how to be gracious. They stepped into the office.

In the past, the compliment on the tip of Tanner's tongue would have stayed there. But the exchange with Edna Harmon had mellowed his dad, making him seem approachable. “Dad, you're amazing. Remembering Edna after all these years.”

Sidney, hands stuffed in his pockets, jingled change, and did a 360 turn. “Oh, it comes with the territory. Patients are my bread and butter. Like your customers.”

“Supplying videos is hardly on the same level as performing life-saving surgery.”

Sidney smiled and glanced at his watch.

“Would you like to see my apartment? It's just next door.”

“Why not?”

A few minutes later they had finished the store tour, gone out the back door, into the pharmacy's back door, and upstairs to his place.

Tanner showed him around. Back in the kitchen he asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

“Uh, no thanks. I need to get home. So, you're comfortable here?”

“I am. It suits me. The community is friendly.”

“Does that redhead live here?”

“Kate?
Here?
No. She lives in town, but only temporarily. She's moving to Washington next month.”

“That's too bad. I liked her. The kids haven't stopped talking about her. Seems like she'd be fun.”

Tanner kept a straight face, hiding his surprise. Who would have thought? “She is.”
And I miss her.

Sidney cleared his throat. “How about…uh…the other…”

“I'm not drinking.”

Relief showed clearly on his father's face. “I'm glad to hear that.”

Another
window of opportunity? The average number of Sidney's approachable moments in one setting hovered between zero and point five. Tanner knew he had to jump at the chance.

“Dad, I've been thinking. I want to apologize for all the problems I caused you through the years.”

Sidney blinked, rumbled a nervous chuckle, jingled the change in his pocket. “I didn't know kids apologized for being kids.”

“Being a kid isn't an excuse. And…” He inhaled deeply. “I forgive you for leaving us.”

The jingling grew silent. He glanced at his feet and then looked out the window. “I made some mistakes of my own.”

Men being men?
Tanner refused to let him off the hook. But a few seconds later, the man removed the hook himself.

“There is some good though, eh? Marnie. Little Sidney. Well, I'd better get home. We have some benefit to attend tonight.”

“Sure. I'll walk you down.”

After a few minutes of generic chitchat, the man drove off in his late-model Lexus.

Tanner stood on the sidewalk, fingers wedged in the back pockets of his jeans. He gazed at the square across the street, smelled the greening grass, and the damp spring earth, noticed the bright bed of blooming tulips and daffodils.

After a time his heart slowed. The burning sensation about his ears cooled. A smile began somewhere in his unconscious, emerging gradually until it pulled at the corners of his mouth and dislodged his resistance.

Kate would be proud. Yes…she would.

Thank You, Jesus.

Each footstep required effort. Graham made his way across the parking lot at Fox Meadow.

On the horizon, across a neighboring barren field, the eastern sky glowed. It would be a magnificent sunrise. He should stop, take time…

He listened to his own advice and halted. A sliver of pulsating yellow radiated on the earth's edge.

Why hadn't she called? Why hadn't she come? He and Rand thought they had prepared themselves. How naïve, to think they could prepare for the incomprehensible. How naïve to not believe Adele could actually walk out.

It would kill Rand. Could he recover? Hang on, give her more time?

They had misjudged the timing. Graham had misjudged Rand's decision-making ability. The old coot had been more fearful than anything, postponing the inevitable. He should have insisted on pushing up the timetable. But when had Rand Chandler ever been fearful?

The sunlight blinded him now, and he headed into the nursing home. The corridors were empty. In Rand's hall, he caught sight of the nurse and night orderly in someone else's room. No one was at the desk. He stepped quietly into Rand's room.

It was like another sunrise.

Adele slept, with an afghan about her shoulders, curled up like a kitten in the big chair. She had shoved it against the bed. Rand also slept, his hand atop the covers…Adele's atop his.

Graham smiled and backed out of the room.

“Who's there?”

Adele opened her eyes to see R.J. blindly studying her without his glasses. It was the second time she had awakened that morning. The first time had been at home, long before dawn. That time, the instant her eyes opened, she knew the decision had come sometime during her sleep. It never would have come about in the hours of wakefulness when self-righteousness stood guard.

Kate had fortuitously left her a note and car keys, urging her to take the car. She dressed and drove to the nursing home in record time.

She leaned in closely now. “It's me.”

“Addie?” His eyes looked different without his thick glasses. They were smaller, more like the ones she remembered.

She shook off the hint of revulsion. “Can I get you something?”

“My glasses.” He moaned slightly. “In that drawer.”

Twisting in the chair, she opened the nearby nightstand drawer. “Do you want some water? Coffee?”

His breathing was labored. “Will you put them on?”

She slid the glasses onto his face. “There. Is that better?” He smiled.

Her stomach lurched. The unfamiliar smile was at odds with the familiar memories. Ambivalence rendered her speechless.

“You came, honey.”

The endearment washed over her. She soaked in it, the dry pockets of her heart drinking it up.

“I was afraid you wouldn't.”

She touched his hand again.

“I'm sorry.”

“I know you are. I…” She had to let the past go, once and for all, now, in reality, up close. Not in her head, not separated by miles and years from the one who had hurt her as a child. She had to say the words aloud. They came out in a whisper. “I forgive you, R.J.”

Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes.

With one hand she dabbed a tissue on his face, with the other she held a hankie to her nose. “No more crying. I did enough yesterday.”

“Will you call me Pops?”

She laughed. That wasn't a term she had ever considered.
Daddy
had evolved directly to
R.J.
by the time she was nine.
Dad
had been too intimate,
Father
too deferential. The name her mother called him fit best. “You want me to call you Pops?”

He chuckled his raspy laugh. “It's true. I always wanted to be called that.”

“Okay. Pops it is. Hey, Pops, it's Easter. I thought we could go to the service together. Are you up for that?” She felt an ache, an imaginable longing that he was up for it.

“Yes. Honey, I love you.”

Evidently she hadn't cried enough yesterday.

A short while later Adele went to the home's kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. R.J.—make that
Pops
—wanted the orderly to help him dress.

She greeted the cooks only briefly. They were busy preparing breakfast. She was busy processing emotions. She sat in a vacant dining room, sipping her tea.

Graham walked in, cup in his hand.

Graham Logan. She'd forgotten about him.

He stopped at her table, smiling hesitantly. “You came.”

She tilted her head.

“We wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. But I'm so grateful that you did. Thank you.”

“Thank you for bringing him.”

“I'm sorry for the deceptions.”

“I'm sorry for falling for them.” She squeezed the warm teacup between her hands. “I guess that's the way it is when you're naïve. You fall for any nice guy, for any story…” Her voice trailed off.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk to him? Not now. Maybe not ever. All she could think of was the numbered days ahead, of living through them with her new father, of introducing Chelsea. She hadn't even thought of Graham for hours. He was a stranger who didn't fit. “No. I don't have any space for you. I don't know where to put you in the scheme of things right now.”

“I understand. You have a lot to deal with. Perhaps later.” He turned to leave, and then he came back. “Adele, there were only three deceptions. I've called your father Rand for years. It's what his close business associates called him. Obviously, we lied about his last name. I'm not a professor. I'm not from Chicago or Buffalo. Everything…” He paused, his blue eyes never wavering. “
Everything
else was true.”

She held back her teenage retort.
Whatever.