Angels Walking (20 page)

Tyler clenched his teeth. He wasn’t giving in. Not this time.

Sami.
He needed to focus on her.

He absently massaged his injured shoulder as he stared at her profile pic. She still looked like Keira Knightley. Beautiful eyes, striking cheekbones. But there was something different about her this many years later. She looked more . . . serious, maybe. More like a Samantha. He studied her, trying to see past the smile to her eyes. Her real eyes. Who was she today, the girl he used to know?

Now she was working a serious job, dating a lawyer, and living on her own. None of that reminded him of the girl clutching his arm on her grandparents’ roof that summer in San Francisco. He felt his heart respond.
What happened to you, Sami? Where’s the girl who wanted adventure? Did they catch you and change you? Are you like them now?

Tyler breathed in sharp through his nose. There was only one way to find out. He had nothing to offer her, less than before he left Simi Valley. That wasn’t the point. She was apparently happy in her relationship. He only wanted to see how she was. Sami had been his friend back then as he had been hers. Wasn’t that the point of Facebook? Connecting with friends?

He opened a private message screen and stared at it. The only reason to write her was so he could know. Had she changed—the way it looked like she had? Or was the Sami he had known and loved still living somewhere in her heart? He poised one hand over the keyboard and began plucking away at the letters.

Hey Sami, this is Tyler. It’s been a long time.

His shoulder was killing him. He paused long enough to massage his aching arm. His hands shook as he returned to the task. His fingers barely stayed on the keys.

I haven’t been on Facebook for a few years, but I found you here this morning and I wanted to say hello. Looks like you’re doing well.

He read the words over again. How was he supposed to end a letter like this? The last time they talked they’d been fighting over the phone, over his drunken arrest.

He took a few more bites of his cereal and started typing again.

I’m still in Pensacola. Still working toward the Big Leagues. Oh, and I got sober a few years back. Thought you’d like to know. Anyway, I think about you now and then. Just wanted to stop by. If you have a minute, let me know how you are. Take care. Tyler.

He thought about the sober line. It wasn’t really true. He couldn’t get through a single hour without the pain pills. He dismissed the thought and sent the message before he could change his mind, and regretted it a moment later. Sami would probably see his name and hit delete before reading it. They hadn’t exactly ended things on good terms. The last time he tried to call her she never answered. So . . . yeah, she probably
wouldn’t be interested in anything he had to say now. But he had to try.

He closed the computer and took a shower. The whole time he wondered if he was going to lose his breakfast. He felt weak and unsteady. His breathing was uneven and he couldn’t stop the sweat on his forehead and back. Three times he took steps toward the remaining pain pills, but each time he stopped himself.

By the time he had washed up, brushed his teeth, and dressed—all with his left hand—his body had taken him from freezing blizzard lows to scalding desert heat. Either way he shook. His shirt stuck to his body and he kept the towel close by so he could keep wiping his face. All told, he was a mess.

Mr. Myers would send him back to bed if he reported for work like this. Frustration churned up the cereal in his stomach a little more. Maybe if he did some cardio. He could report half an hour late. His boss only cared that he finished the work. Tyler opened the dishwasher, but bending forward did something to his damaged shoulder—even with the brace.

He cried out and turned around, falling back against the counter. He closed his eyes and breathed in short bursts, working his way through the slicing pain. After fifteen seconds the searing sensation dimmed just enough that he could open his eyes and think again. How was he going to get through the day like this? He needed to get off the medication, of course. But there had to be a better way.

Without hesitating, he took a full cup of water, went to his bedside, grabbed the last pills in the bottle, and washed them down. There. He could at least work now. The pills worked
eight hours at a time. Stronger than the ones he’d used right after his injury.

Fifteen minutes later he felt the haze settle in. The sweating stopped, the shakes eased as the Oxycodone dimmed the edges of his existence, giving him permission to breathe and smile and clean the floors at Merrill Place. The pills brought so much relief, Tyler wondered if he was wrong. Maybe this was not the time to give them up. He could always quit them later.

At the end of the day, as always, he stopped by Virginia’s room. She was asleep when he walked in, so he cleaned her floor first. His shoulder still hurt with every movement, but he could work past it, talk past it. The pills were that good.

Everything was possible as long as he had the Oxycodone.

He finished her floor just as she woke up. Virginia blinked a few times and then squinted through the sun-filled room. “Ben? Is that you?”

“Hi.” He leaned the mop against the closed door. Again he tucked his name badge through the buttons of his work shirt. “How are you?”

“Happy.” Virginia slid up in bed and smoothed out her hair. “I’m always happy when you’re here. You never should’ve moved away.” She raised hopeful eyebrows. “Can you stay and chat? Just for a few minutes?”

“Definitely.” He hugged his sore arm to his body as he moved to the familiar chair. He looked over his shoulder at the window. “Beautiful day.”

“You were born on a day like this. Every time God paints a sky this blue I think about the gift you’ve been to us.”

The compliment worked its way to Tyler’s heart. The dear
woman might have him confused for someone else. But Tyler sometimes wondered if he maybe needed these visits as much as she did. He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Remember that”—Virginia winked at him—“when you’re out and about and see a blue sky. Remember that you’re a gift, Ben. You always will be.”

“You, too.” He still hadn’t called her Mom or Mother. Doing so definitely didn’t feel right. She didn’t seem to notice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She reached out, the way she always did.

Tyler took her fingers in his. “Can you . . . pray for me? My shoulder?”

“You know I saw that bike accident coming. I was on the front porch watching you and Cheryl, and I knew . . . I just knew you were riding too fast.”

“True.” He thought about his final pitch. “Much too fast.”

“And there was poor Cheryl.” Virginia shook her head, clearly seeing an afternoon from decades ago. “My, how that girl adored you. Soon as you were on the ground she was at your side.”

Tyler had figured out that Cheryl was Ben’s sister. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Glad I did. I grabbed the medical box and ran down the street. Cleaned up your elbow right there on the side of the road. Then me and Cheryl helped you home.” Virginia’s smile was as kind as he imagined it had been that day. “Your father was proud of me. I’m not usually very good with blood.”

He chuckled. “Me, either.”

“So yes, of course. I’ll pray for your shoulder.” She looked at the sling, curious. “Did the doctor give you that?”

“He did.”

“Hmmm. Your father must’ve taken you. I remember the bandages on your forearm, but not your shoulder.”

“I need an operation.”

Her expression changed and she covered her mouth with her free hand. “That’s terrible. I had no idea.” She motioned for Tyler to lean closer. “Come here. Let me pray for you now.”

Tyler did as he was asked and Virginia took hold of his good shoulder. Her touch was light, her voice intense as she began to talk to God. “Lord, my son is hurt. He needs a miracle. Your healing power is the only thing we have, Father. So please . . . heal my boy. Help him get the surgery he needs. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The prayer felt a little strange and Tyler felt like an imposter. But while Virginia prayed a feeling came over him that he’d felt only one other time since he was a kid.

The feeling was perfect peace.

It was the same thing he’d felt when that man at Hope Community Church prayed for him. Beck, the paramedic volunteer. Tyler wasn’t sure what to make of the surge of peace, but he would take it. And certainly the Lord—if He was listening—would know Tyler needed the prayers more than Ben. Wherever Ben was.

Tyler slid back to his spot on the chair and gave Virginia’s hand a slight squeeze. “Thank you.”

“I’ll pray every day.” She looked and sounded like a woman twenty years younger, completely in her right mind. “When are you having it done?”

“That’s just it.” He wasn’t trying to confuse her. “I can’t pay for it. I’m saving my money.”

“For heaven’s sake, Ben, call your sister. If you need help, she’s the one to tell. Smart girl, that Cheryl. Graduated college top of her class.” Virginia squeezed his hand. “Call her.”

“Good idea.” Tyler smiled. For a few seconds he let an easy silence settle between them. “I have a question.”

“Okay.” Her eyes smiled and her mouth followed. “I love times like this.”

“Me, too.” He allowed her happiness a polite moment. Then he felt his smile fade. “Here’s the question. If I don’t go to college, if I find something else I love better . . . would you . . . be angry with me?”

Surprise came slowly over her face like the sunrise. “Ben Hutcheson, of course not.” She looked wounded by the possibility. “Your father and I talk about staying in school, but school is not for everyone. After all, your own father didn’t take a stitch of college classwork.”

Vindication came over him like the greatest gift. If his parents had been like Virginia, the war between them never would’ve started. “Really? You’re serious?”

“Ben Alan Hutcheson, of course I’m serious.” She laughed lightly. “What are you thinking about doing instead?”

“Well. . .” He wondered how old Virginia thought he was. “I’m thinking about baseball.”

“Baseball.” She looked out the window, her expression almost dreamlike. “I love that game. Someone I know used to play baseball. I can’t remember who.” She turned to Tyler
again. Concern flashed in her eyes. “What about your shoulder? Your surgery?”

“I mean I’d play after . . . after I’m all healed up.”

“If anyone can do it, you can.” Her smile grew even more tender.

Tyler wasn’t sure what to say. He loved how he felt, living someone else’s life even for a few moments, imagining what life might’ve been like if his parents had cared about him like this. The charade was wrong. It had to be. But then, he and Virginia were both benefiting.

The truth kept him here, kept him in the conversation.

“Yes, Ben.” Virginia yawned. “I think baseball would be a very nice job. Your father would think so, too.” She glanced at the door. “He should be home anytime.”

Virginia’s spells of wakefulness were never very long. Her eyelids grew heavy. “Must be nap time.”

“I was just heading out.” He released her fingers and stood. “Thanks for talking.”

“Oh, Ben!” She held up her hand. “There is one thing. Before you go.”

“Yes?” He would’ve done anything for the old woman.

“You used to sing worship songs for me and my church friends. Remember that?”

Tyler was quiet.

“ ‘Amazing Grace’ . . . ‘How Great Thou Art.’ All the old favorites.” Virginia nodded toward the door. “I’m expecting a lot of friends tomorrow morning.” She thought for a few seconds. “Every morning, really. Anyway, it would be so nice if you could join us with your guitar. Play the old songs the way you used to.”

Tyler felt his stomach tighten. “Ummm.”

“Now, now.” She waved at the air in front of her. “Don’t start about how you don’t have a good voice. We all love your voice. You know that.”

What was he supposed to say? His heart skittered around and slid into a rapid rhythm. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll . . . see if I can find the guitar.”

“That’s a good boy, Ben. Thank you.” Virginia smiled again. “These hours with you and Cheryl and your father are my happiest of all.” She radiated joy. “Jesus is so good. Giving me a family like you.”

The comment stabbed at Tyler’s heart—where the pain usually took a second seat to his shoulder injury. Not this time. He nodded. “I feel the same way.”

He put away the broom and mop and drove west to an urgent care he hadn’t visited before. An hour later he had the pain pills in his hands. If he was going to start training the rest of his body, at least this way he wouldn’t have to work through pain. He would quit after this bottle. Really. The shaking had just started when he took the first two pills from the new bottle.
Better than taking three or four
, he told himself. Maybe the medicine would dull the shame he felt over needing Oxycodone. He refused to think about it.

Instead he thought about Virginia.

Was the ruse wrong? Was he unkind to let her believe the lie? Either way it was too late to stop. Virginia had found a son, and not only that.

Tyler had found a mother.

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