Unburying Hope (35 page)

When Celeste saw Eddie, she would tell him
that everything was perfect and it was now time, that together the three of
them could handle whatever demons he was facing.
 
They had stability now, not just in the house, or the
horizon, or the school, or the dive shop.
 
He’d be safe now.
 
The
largeness of their stability could hold him as he faced his own sorrows.

Chapter
Thirty-Six

“Do you think I’ll find any friends here?”

“I don’t know if you need friends, do you, at
your age?” Celeste asked, not so sure, her memory foggy.
 
“Did you have lots of friends at your
old school?”

“No.
 
I moved too much.
 
Some kids
have been together since they were babies.”

“I know that feeling.”

“And my grandma had me stay in afterschool
care, I was the only big kid there.”

“So all your schoolmates left at 3 and you
stayed.”

“Until 5.”

“Well, help me with the scones,” Celeste
motioned, “and bring your backpack.
 
We’ll get school supplies after school today when we know
what you need.”

“Will I stay in afterschool care?”

“Do you want to?”
 
Celeste wondered if she’d be sitting with Eddie by then,
veering between abandonment rage and relief that he would be back to help with
his daughter.

“No.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at 3 in the drive
thru.”
 

Rosalinda squirmed on the stool near the
counter.
 
“You mean I get a ride in
to school and a ride home from you?”

“Yep, that’s how we’re doing it today,”
Celeste said, breathing hope into her words.

The girl leapt off her barstool and ran down
the hallway towards Celeste and Eddie’s bedroom, “I’m gonna thank my daddy for
bringing you with us,” she said.

“Your daddy’s not here,” Celeste felt the
panic in her throat and she watched as Rosalinda stopped suddenly and pivoted
slowly towards her.
 

“He left this morning without saying ‘good
luck’?
 
Or giving me a hug?”

“He texted me,” Celeste lied, “and asked me to
give you a big hug from him.”
 
She
waited until Rosalinda shuffled back into the kitchen.
 
“Here’s the hug,” she said, and put her
arms awkwardly around the little girl.

“Thank you,” Rosalinda said, disappointment evident
in her voice.
 
“I’ll thank him
later.”

Celeste smiled.
 
“But your dad didn’t bring me here, I came on my own to be
with him.
 
It was my choice.”

“Oh,” Rosalinda said distantly, “when he first
found me, he promised me someday we’d move here and he’d bring me a lady who
could be like a mommy to me.”

“My, my,” Celeste said, at a loss for
words.
 
“He just told you that
before he brought you here?”

“No, he told me when my mommy died and we met.
 
He said he’d leave me with grandma
until the army let him go.
 
Then he
could get a business and a mommy.”

Celeste raised her eyebrows, her voice stalled
in the gray matter between her brain and her throat.

She watched as Rosalinda stared into the
barely lit oven.
 
“They will need
to cool a few minutes, so by the time you wash up, we can sit down to
eat.”
 

Rosalinda smiled and patted her head, “And
brush my hair!
 
I can’t go to my
new school with messy hair!”
 
She
skipped out of the kitchen, into her bedroom, singing quietly in a little voice
a song that Celeste did not know.

The oven timer buzzed.
 
She moved sluggishly towards the
drawer, pulled out and put on oven mitts, pulled scones out of the oven and
placed them by the open kitchen window to cool.

Rosalinda returned with a very sweet smile on
her face.
 
“That smells so good,”
she drawled.

“It does, doesn’t it?”
 
Celeste sat silently for a few minutes
then put one pastry out onto a plate for Rosalinda.
 
“Here you go, don’t eat it too fast.”

Rosalinda took a small pinch of the bready
part and tasted it.
 
“Yummy,” she
said, and she quickly ate one, two, then a third scone.

Celeste had lost her appetite.
 
“So, we’re ready to go?”
 
She stood up and jingled the car keys
in her pocket.
 
Maybe she’d drive
by the storefront to see if Eddie had slept there.

“You okay?”
 
Rosalinda eyed her.

“Yeah, I’m fine.
 
I’m just thinking that I bet your dad wishes he were here.”

“I know!”
 
Rosalinda bounced to the door, “but it’s okay that it’s just
you and me.”

Celeste smiled, trying to relax the worry
lines on her forehead.
 
Just you
and me.

“And I get to go home at the regular
time!
 
I’m so excited!”

“Yep, we’ll have you out at the early time.”

“And drive thru for pickup!”
 
Rosalinda had a happy little smile, “I
get to be a regular kid!”

Celeste put her hand on Rosalinda’s shoulder
as they walked down the front steps, the tender scent of roses in the air
around them.
 
“You and me both,
honey.
 
I never got to be a regular
kid either, so this will be nice for you and me both.”

“I’m ready for my new school, then.”
 
Rosalinda climbed into the back seat of
the car.

An emotionally weighty moment, a healing made
possible by the simple act of driving to and from school.
 
She wished Eddie could be there, as
much for herself as for Rosalinda.

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

As the afternoon air heaved with tropical heat
and moisture, Celeste fanned herself by the living room window.
 
Through the screen door, she saw Malia
standing out by the arbor at the end of the path to the street.
 
She was wringing her hands, her face heavy
with worry.

Celeste scrambled off the sofa, putting her
cookbook down.
 
She padded lightly
to the door, calculating the days left until the next rent check was due.
 
Eight or nine, so Malia couldn’t be
here to collect.

She heard Eddie’s voice, watched as he
sauntered over to Malia from somewhere in the garden.
 
He had returned unceremoniously the night before.
 
Their voices were low, so she crept out
the screen door, holding it tightly so it wouldn’t make a sound as it closed.

Malia now had her back to her and Eddie had
his hands shoved down in his pockets, his shoulders hunched over.

Celeste stepped out of her shoes and walked a
few steps closer, thinking she could offer Malia some tea, relieving Eddie of
any obligation to chat with her.
 
She was probably just checking in, Celeste thought.
 
She was such an animated old lady and
it was clear that she was fearless and not afraid to meddle.
 
Please god, Celeste said to herself,
let her not be grilling Eddie about getting married.
 
She’d soon see hanging flags or statues laid about, calling
Malia’s spirit friends to push Celeste and Eddie together, as Malia had warned
on that first day.

She listened and stopped in her footsteps when
she realized that Malia was crying.
 
It was so unexpected to hear her voice shaking.
 
She wanted to run forward, to connect
with her, but something between Malia and Eddie kept her from that
impulse.
 
Should she offer tea or a
glass of water?
 
Stand next to
Malia and console her for whatever was wrong?

She looked at the side of Eddie’s face for a
clue but his posture was unchanged, hunched over, listening.
 
She watched as he reached out a hand to
Malia.
 
He placed it on her fragile
shoulder and gripped it, giving her comfort or steadfastness, she couldn’t
tell.

Malia wiped her tears and began to walk.
 
Celeste froze, afraid that they would
see her and know that she’d been watching them without announcing herself.

They walked instead a few feet into the
property, sideways like crabs towards the rose bushes where Malia reached out
and took Eddie’s arm, leaning on him.
 

Celeste retreated to the front steps, sensing
the intimacy of Eddie offering care to the little woman.
 
She decided not to interfere and
quietly slipped instead back into the house, depositing herself on a wooden
chair in the foyer, watching them from afar.

Eddie turned towards Malia, standing where he
could have seen Celeste so she ducked her head.

“Celeste,” he called out to her.

“Yes?”

Malia spooked, moving behind him, her small
figure easily hidden behind his frame.

That’s strange, Celeste thought.
 
Why would she be afraid of me?
 
Celeste stood inside the door and
waved, which upset him.
 
She
thought he had seen her before but it was clear that he was disappointed and
was now calculating his own response.

“Nothing, honey, why don’t you go back to our
room and rest for a while?”

“Sure,” Celeste said, lowering her voice.
 
She stepped backwards from the screen
door and watched him stare in at her.
 
She slipped back in to her shoes and clomped a few steps more towards
the hall, staring back out at him.
 

She saw Malia grab his hands, bow her head and
was relieved to watch as Eddie cared for her.
 
He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a half hug,
as much as she would accept.
 
Then
she receded quickly through the arbor and Celeste watched Eddie watch her go,
then stand still, his shoulders no longer hunched, his hands on his hips, no
longer shoved into his pockets.

He looked into the house, didn’t see her and
loped quickly out the arbor after Malia.

She woke with a shock an hour later.
 
Her head lay against the couch pillow
in the front room where she could still see out to the front yard.
 
It was almost time to do the school
pickup and she was relieved to hear Eddie bustling around the backyard.
 
Her mind in a fog, she stretched,
hearing him walking from the back to the front of the house, out to the car and
then back onto the property again.

She sat up and caught a glimpse of him
carrying large plastic containers.
 
Cooking oil?
 
Fluids for the
car?
 
It wasn’t soda bottles, she
knew.
 
She called out, “Honey, are
you going to get Rosalinda?”

She heard silence, then jumped almost out of
her skin when his voice spoke inches from her ear.
 

“We can do it together,” he said, his voice
warm, tired.
 
“But Malia asked me
to do some gardening for her, to help her cut costs, so I’m going to be digging
up some areas she wants to develop.”

“Want me to do some of the digging?
 
You can get Rosalinda and I’ll step on
that shovel like you showed me,” she said, holding an imaginary pole in front
of her and jumping with both feet on the invisible shovel head.
 
She was hopeless at it out in the yard;
it had taken all of her strength to break through the soil in spots where no
one had gardened in recent years.
 

“No way,” he said, his hands jittery.
 
“Might as well give Rosalinda a little
plastic ice cream spoon and ask her to do it, she’d get farther along than you
would,” he needled, smiling at her.
 
“Let’s go get her together and then I’ll do some digging while she’s
doing her homework.”

“Did I miss Malia stopping by?” Celeste asked,
feigning a big yawn.

Eddie shooed her off the sofa and out the
front door, straight towards the car, “She was just driving by and she saw me
out front.
 
So she asked if I’d do
some of the digging so she wouldn’t have to pay the gardener, who is even older
than she is and would have to use a rototiller.
 
That would ruin the stuff living in the soil.”

“I can help you later,” Celeste pushed.
 

“No, I’m good,” he dismissed.

“But you said that thing about soil having
microbes that make you happy when they touch human skin.
 
I need some of that,” Celeste
persisted.