Antonia's Choice (16 page)

I could almost hear Reggie shuddering. “Honey, ya'll give new meanin' to the term
dysfunctional.”

“Tell me about it. I need to call that lawyer before the lunacy gets passed down any further.”

Faith Anne Newlin sounded like she was about fifteen on the phone, though Reggie swore that Tammi What's-Her-Name's sister-in-law said she'd been in practice for at least five years. But I liked her no-nonsense approach when I talked to her. I needed somebody business-like and crisp to get me pulled back together.

“I can probably have this wrapped up by tomorrow morning,” Ms. Newlin told me. “I'll call you first thing and have you come over and sign the papers. Where can I reach you?”

I had to pause. I didn't even know where I was at that moment, much less where I was going to be the next day. But things had to be better by tomorrow, just having gotten this far. I gave her my number at work.

Then I called Reggie back.

“What's the weather like there?” I said.

“Partly cloudy and mild until somebody mentions your name. Then Jeffrey's barometer hits rock bottom. I'm trying to batten down the hatches a little.”

“Do what you can,” I said. “But don't give anybody any details.”

“Unh-uh.”

“Listen, Reg, let me ask you something. You know the Green Hills Community Church? It's down on—”

“I know it.”

“Are they fundamentalist—I mean, are we talking prudes who would overreact in a situation like this?”

“Honey, I don't use labels like that,” Reggie said. “They're Christians, and they have an excellent reputation for dealin' with real issues. If you want to debate the end times, go somewhere else. But if you have somebody in trouble, that's the place to go.” Reggie paused. “Any particular reason you're askin' me this, honey?”

“No
rational
reason, no. I'm just trying to sort through everything and throw out what's only going to confuse me more. This whole thing makes little enough sense as it is.”

I could hear the leather squeaking as Reggie readjusted in the chair. “I'm not following you,” she said.

“My mother thinks the fundamentalists have gotten to Wyndham and now she's possessed by the devil and that's why she's turned her mother in.”

Reggie spat out a laugh. “That just doesn't make sense
at
all. That woman is
tragic.
Honey, if the fundamentalists thought Wyndham was possessed, they'd be trying to drive the devil
out
of her! Lordy, Toni, they're Christians, too!”

“Okay. I'm just trying to get my head straight.”

“Then look someplace else besides your Mama. Bless her heart, the icing has slipped off that woman's cupcakes.”

“I know.”

“And you can't be worry in about her now. You got Wyndham and Ben to take care of.”

“I know.”

“So what's your next step?”

“I have to break the news to Wyndham,” I said quickly, before Reggie could break in and tell me what my next step was. “She isn't going to be happy about it. She said last night that if I didn't want her, she didn't know where she would go.”

“Bless her heart.”

“But I do have a place for her to go—what else can I do? I'm just going to have to convince her that this is the best thing.”

“When's that going to happen?”

“Tonight. Hale Isaksen's coming over—that's the youth pastor.”

“I know about him. Everybody in town knows about him. God has definitely sent you to the right place.”

I didn't ask her why God would give me any kind of directions at all, seeing how I'd barely given Him the time of day lately. I wasn't in the mood for a theological discussion.

“And where's Ben going to be durin' this little get-together?” Reggie said.

“Ugh.” I put a hand in the small of my back and started pacing the kitchen. “He has soccer practice today, which means he'll be worn out, so with any luck I can get him into bed by…” I blew air out between my lips. “Nine or ten o'clock, give or take a couple of screaming fits.”

“You think he'd go to McDonald's and an early movie with me?”

“Oh, Reg, you don't have to do that.”

“I know it. I want to.”

“I'd feel like I was completely taking advantage of you.”

“Now you listen to me, girl.” Reggie was undoubtedly sitting straight up in the chair, tweezed eyebrows arched up to her hairline. “You have got one mess on your hands and there is no way you're going to be able to get through this by yourself. You better cling to every friend God's giving you who's willin' to get some of it on 'em. Now—do you think Ben would be comfortable going out with me for a while tonight or not?”

I laughed—a now-unfamiliar sound inside my head. “Does he have a choice?”

“No, I don't think he does,” Reggie said. “Bless his heart.”

It was the first miracle I had ever experienced—the fact that Ben went meekly off with Reggie at 5:30 that night. It might have been the lime-green Volkswagen Beetle Reggie drove up in that intrigued him, complete with a large stuffed frog poking its giant bulging eyes out of the sunroof. Or perhaps it was the tiny Power Puff Girls decals on her fingernails. Or it may have been that he would have done just about anything to get out of the house after I told him Wyndham was coming home soon. Reggie whispered to me that it was just one of God's little miracles. One look at the grin on Ben's face as he climbed into her front seat, and I believed her. It did stab me, knowing that he didn't smile at me that way. But now that I knew why, I was going to fix it. I just needed to get Wyndham handled first.

Hale arrived shortly thereafter, and we had a chance to look through the Trinity House packet at the kitchen snack bar over coffee before Lindsay pulled up with Wyndham. From the photographs, it appeared to be a surprisingly un-Tennessee-like place, with Spanish mission—style stucco buildings and saltillo tiles on the floors and a spare, monastic-looking chapel off in a clearing, sans azalea bushes. It had none of the gracious Southern charm of the Green Hills Church. In fact, it reminded me of a convent.

“Have you ever been to this place?” I said.

“Many times,” Hale said. “I've even made some day-long retreats there.”

“You
have? What were you retreating from?” I put my hand up before he could answer. “That is so none of my business. I'm sorry—I'm losing it here.”

Hale chuckled. Even his laugh had a square, solid sound that made me want to lean on it.

“It's okay,” he said. “Mostly I was retreating from myself—and of course that's exactly who I found when I went there.”

“Yourself.”

“They have some amazing people at Trinity. The residential part of it is for abused girls, but the rest is open to anyone who is seeking…whatever they're seeking.”

“It would have to have something to do with God, I assume.”

Hale gave a square shrug. “I don't know what else would be worth seeking.”

I went back to the pamphlet, which I'd pushed aside in order to peruse the more official looking materials. A moment later I heard myself whistle.

“You found the price,” Hale said.

“Three thousand a month.”

“That includes room, board, intensive counseling—”

“How 'bout membership in the country club?” I ran my finger down the bulleted list of benefits Wyndham was going to receive for my money. I noticed, oddly, that the nail on my index finger was now short and ragged. I didn't remember chewing it off.

I knew I could swing the cost for a while. I'd spent part of the afternoon looking at my financial statement, figuring out which assets to liquidate. Fortunately there were plenty that were in my name alone. I didn't know how Chris was going to react to all this. I still hadn't called him.

“How long do you think it'll take?” I said. “Until she's—what—cured? Rehabilitated? What do you say?”

“Healed, I think, is the word. I don't know. It probably depends on how hard she works—how hard she lets God work. And how much support she has.”

I grunted. “She has me. Period. My mother has written her off—both of us, actually. Something about us being possessed by the devil.”

“I wouldn't doubt that the devil has everything to do with this situation.” Hale got up to pour himself another cup of coffee and looked back at me over his shoulder as he crossed the kitchen. “But I don't see the devil in you. Wyndham could do a lot worse than having you on her side.”

“What else am I supposed to do? Right now, she doesn't have anybody else.”

“You could elect not to help her.”

“Right. And I'd never sleep at night. I may not go to church, but I do have a conscience.”

“Conscience. God.” He sat down again, squinting against the steam rising from the mug. “In this case, I think it's the same thing.”

“Then it's a freebie,” I said. “If God's in this, it isn't because I thought about asking Him.”

I expected something like, “It's never too late to start,” or “Why not ask Him now?” I got neither. Hale just sat there looking square, like a rock. It kept me from fleeing when I heard Lindsay's car pull into the driveway.

“You get this thing started,” I said to him. “I have no idea where to even begin, so I'm going to follow your lead.”

“You okay?” he said.

Whether I was or not, Wyndham rushed in through the door from the garage, looking a little less starched and primped than she had that morning. Both of us seemed to have wilted as the day had gone on. But when she saw Hale and me there, her face lifted visibly, and at first I thought her eyes were shiny. As she came closer to hug me, though, I saw that they were actually glassy, feverish. The smile, the flush, it was all forced, as if she thought it ought to be there and she needed to make it so.

“Hungry?” I said.

She shook her head, the mop of dark curls jiggling nervously from the ponytail atop her head. “Lindsay and I had fries with some of the girls.” She glanced at me warily. “I hope that's okay?”

“Of course. You don't see a seven-course meal here waiting for you, do you?”

Her eyes grew more nervous. “You want me to fix you something? As long as I'm staying here, I can cook. Earn my keep or something.”

My heart took another hit. I looked helplessly at Hale.

“Who did you go out with?” he said.

As Wyndham headed for the refrigerator she listed several names that Hale seemed, from his nods, to recognize.

“You want me to fix you a salad, Aunt Toni?” she said.

I shook my head and pointed to one of the snack bar stools. Glancing from one of us to the other, she climbed up on it, next to
Hale. I was across from her, pressing sweat marks into the granite with my palms.

“They're all great girls,” she said to Hale, still using an obligatory cheery voice. “I love it here. I thought no group could be like my group up in Richmond, but these kids are so cool. I'm so glad I'm here.”

Stop,
I thought.
Hale, do something. Make her stop before I start hating myself more than I already do.

Hale, however, seemed bent on dragging the same line of conversation into next week.

“What did ya'll talk about?” he said.

“Just girl stuff.” She rolled her eyes elaborately. “It feels so good to talk about something besides—you know—the yucky stuff that's been going on with me. I feel normal again.”

I looked at Hale, but he was still studying Wyndham. “Did you talk about shaving your legs?” he said. “You girls always seem to wind up talking about shaving your legs.”

The flush disappeared from Wyndham's face. Her eyes darted to her calves, and she pulled both of them, clad in black Lycra, up another notch on the stool so that she could wrap her arms around them.

“We didn't talk about that,” she said.

“Do we need to?” Hale said. “You were showing some pretty bad gashes at the pool yesterday.”

“I just have to be more careful.”

I could feel my eyebrows twisting. If there was one thing I had learned from my five years of being a mother, it was how to tell when a kid is lying. Hale obviously knew it, too, because he was going right for the jugular. “You sure we don't need to talk about it?” Hale's voice, if possible, was getting softer even as it grew firmer. I personally was ready to confess every sin I'd ever committed right there on the spot. He touched Wyndham's sleeve lightly. “I'm not one to ask a lady if I can look at her legs. But how about that arm?”

Wyndham's chin came up slowly from her knees, her eyes riveted to his.

What is he doing?
I thought.

“You want to show us your arms?” he said. “We're not going to do anything to you, Wyndham, we just want to help you—your Aunt Toni and me.”