Oceans Apart (24 page)

“Wow.” Max’s mouth hung open.

183

– Oceans Apart –

“I know, it’s a lot.” Connor smoothed out the wrinkles in the bedspread. “That’s why we have to get up early.” Max was quiet for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was a mix of fear and concern. “What about Mrs. Evans? Isn’t she getting up early, too?”

“Well . . .” Connor took in a sharp breath through his nose.

“Mrs. Evans isn’t going with us this year.”

“That’s what I thought.” Max’s eyebrows bunched together. “It’s

’cause of me. She doesn’t like me, right?” Connor closed his eyes just long enough to gather his thoughts.

When he opened them, he looked through the dark shadows of the room, straight to Max’s soul. “No. It’s not because of you, Max.” Anger flashed inside him, but Connor ignored it. He could be mad at Michele later. “Mrs. Evans doesn’t like to fish all that much, see. And this week her sister wanted her to come for a visit.” Again Connor forced a smile for the boy. “So it worked out just fine. You and the girls and I will go camping, and Mrs. Evans can go see her sister.”

Max’s eyebrows stayed low and together. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.” The frown eased some. “I wish she was coming with us.”

“Me, too, Max.” This time, Connor spoke despite the lump in his throat, but his voice was little more than a whisper. “Me, too.” 184

TWENTY

The plans for Michele’s trip to see her sister came together by Sunday night.

Once Elizabeth and Susan were packed and in bed, she worked from their home office. Connor was helping Max, no doubt. Earlier that day Connor finally gave up on changing her mind, and now he seemed content to keep his distance.

Convincing the girls hadn’t been as easy.

“If you’re not going, I’m not, either.” Elizabeth had dug her fists into her waist, her eyes angry and narrowed. “You can’t do this, Mom! We’ve been planning it for a year.”

“I’ll go next time.” Michele kept her voice calm, hoping the girls would see her resolve and give up.

“But it won’t be right without you.” Susan sat on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed for the discussion. “You’re a better jet ski driver than Dad.”

“Yeah, and plus he’ll be busy with that Max kid.” Other than the first hour or so, Elizabeth still hadn’t warmed up to the stranger in their house.

“He’ll be with all three of you.” Michele remembered to smile.

She flipped the lid of the girls’ suitcase open. “The important thing is that you have a good time. You don’t need me for that.”

“But you
never
do this.” Elizabeth was bent almost in half, her cheeks red. She raised her hands and dropped them again. “It’s just wrong, Mom. We’re not a family without you.”

“Okay.” Michele set a pile of shorts into the suitcase, stood, and faced the girls. “You want the truth?”

“Yes!” Their voices came in stereo, equally hurt and frustrated.

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– Oceans Apart –

“I want Daddy to have a chance to get to know Max.” Michele didn’t blink. She left out the part about not being able to stomach the idea of having to live up to the memory of an island affair, or not wanting to watch Connor fall in love with the woman’s son.

Susan was on her feet. “He can get to know Max if you’re there, Mommy.”

“No.” Michele crossed the room and set her hand on Susan’s shoulder. “It’ll go better without me. Besides, I haven’t seen Aunt Margie in almost a year. I need this time with her.” She looked from Susan to Elizabeth and back again. “Okay?”

“Are we still going to Wisconsin this summer?” Resignation rang in Elizabeth’s voice.

“Of course.” She stretched out her arms, inviting the girls to come close for a group hug. “That vacation will just be our family, no friends along.”

The girls exchanged a look, and Elizabeth took the lead. “Okay.” She huffed a drawn-out, exaggerated sigh. “I still don’t think it’s right, but if that’s what you want to do . . .”

“Besides, you know how Dad is . . .” Michele gave first Susan a kiss on her cheek, and then did the same for Elizabeth. “You’ll be able to stay up later and eat twice as many s’mores as usual.” Susan allowed a grin. “Yeah.”

“And we’ll all be together again in a week.” A scowl still shadowed Elizabeth’s face, but she lifted one shoulder. “We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Michele returned to the suitcase. “But think of all we’ll have to talk about when we get back.”

<

Michele slept very little that night, but made up for it on the flight out west. She arrived in LA before three that afternoon, and two hours later she was northbound on the Ventura Freeway, the 186

– Karen Kingsbury –

ocean on her left, mountains on her right, and Santa Barbara just five minutes away.

Margie Bailey and her husband, Sean, lived in Santa Barbara on a craggy plateau overlooking the Pacific Ocean on one side, and the hilly entrance to the Santa Ynez Valley on the other. The house was more of an estate, situated behind gated walls and giving Margie and Sean the privacy they wanted, despite the congestion that had come to mark most of the city.

Sean was a plastic surgeon. Margie met him at Westmont, a small, private Christian college on the south side of Santa Barbara.

Sean’s hours allowed him ample downtime to hike and bicycle and vacation with Margie. The two were content with having no children, and together they planned to spend the rest of their lives on California’s central coast.

Despite their different lifestyles, Michele and Margie shared the faith they’d been raised with and a relationship stronger than time.

They were also close to their brother, Paul, but the two sisters shared a bond so strong that they liked to say when Margie was sick, Michele came down with a fever, or if Michele was having a hard day, Margie got a headache. Michele was eighteen months older, nicknamed
Mitch
when Margie was learning to speak.

Michele hadn’t told Margie about Connor’s affair or the plane crash or the little boy staying at their house. The sum of the information seemed too big to condense into a single telephone conversation.

So when Michele decided to forgo the camping trip, a visit with Margie was the perfect alternative.

Without talking about it, neither she nor Connor had made any attempt to get up for church on Sunday. Instead, she called Margie, explaining only that she needed to get away for a week, and that she wasn’t going with her family on the camping trip.

“Something happened.”

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– Oceans Apart –

“Yes.” Michele massaged the bridge of her nose to keep from giving in to the tears. “We’ll talk about it when I get there.” Being the wife of a pilot meant that catching a flight wasn’t a problem. She booked a standby reservation on a less popular 6:00

A.M. flight from West Palm Beach to Los Angeles International Airport. In LA she rented a car and drove to her sister’s house.

Margie knew better than to ask questions right away.

They hugged, and Michele joined them for lasagna. Since Michele’s encounter with the mirror the other night, she’d only picked at her food, and that evening was no exception. Four bites into her lasagna she crumpled her napkin and set it on her plate.

She didn’t want Margie to notice her lack of appetite, otherwise she’d get a lecture on how great she looked and how she didn’t have a weight problem and definitely didn’t need to starve to feel good about herself.

Not that Michele believed her. Margie hadn’t gained three pounds since college, so topics involving food and excessive weight were ones they rarely discussed.

On this night, Margie didn’t notice the uneaten lasagna, and Michele was relieved. They made small talk throughout the meal and afterwards during dishes. When they were finished eating, Sean muttered something about having work to do in their upstairs office. Margie kissed him and whispered a quiet thank-you, and she and Michele headed into the den to talk.

Michele took the spot at one end of their leather sofa, and Margie took the other. They were barely seated when Margie met Michele’s eyes and asked the question that had been coming all evening.

“Okay, big sister, what is it?”

“Connor’s camping with three kids, not two.” Margie leaned back some. The subtle rise in her eyebrows made it clear she hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Three?” 188

– Karen Kingsbury –

“Yes.” Michele took hold of a nearby pillow and clutched it to her middle. Normally that was something she did to hide the fact that her stomach wasn’t flat. But here with Margie it was the only way she knew to ward off the empty feeling in her gut. Her eyes met Margie’s again. “He took the girls, and a seven-year-old boy named Max.”

Margie wrinkled her nose. “Max?”

“Max is . . . he’s Connor’s son.” Her voice cracked, and she hung her head. This wasn’t the time to break down. She brought her back teeth together and sniffed. Then she found her sister’s eyes once more. “Connor had an affair with the boy’s mother back in 1996.”

“No.” Margie’s face was three shades paler than before.

“Yes . . .” Nausea rose up and made further explanation impossible. “Yes, Margie.”

“Connor’s never loved anyone but you. The two of you are . . .

you’re the reason I believed in love enough to get married. Tell me you’re making it up.”

“I can’t.”

“Mitch . . . I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true.” Michele angled her head. She was still as confused as Margie about what had happened. “I wish it wasn’t, but . . .” She gave a few quick shakes of her head and then all of it, every word of Connor’s talk at the beach, every detail about his reaction to the boy and the way their lives had changed swept over her. And the flood of tears she’d held off threatened to drown her.

Margie said nothing. She slid over and put her arms around Michele’s neck and held her until Michele could catch her breath and get enough of a grip to speak.

Then she explained everything she knew about what had happened. “There was a storm that weekend. All the planes were grounded. He met her at the airport in Honolulu; she was a flight 189

– Oceans Apart –

attendant for Western Island Air.” She sniffed and took a tissue from the box on the table. She wiped her nose. “I don’t know how many days or hours they spent together, but they shared at least one night.”

“That’s all you know?” Margie sat facing her now, her eyes as wide with shock as they’d been when she first heard the news.

“I don’t
want
to know more.” Michele pulled her legs up and hugged her knees to her chest. “What good would that do?”

“Okay, so what happened? Why does she call now, why send her son off to your house after all these years?”

“She died.” Michele felt herself sink an inch. “She was in the Western Island Air plane crash last week.”

“Oh, Mitch.” Margie’s expression went slack, her voice dropped to a scratchy whisper. “No.”

“Yes.” Michele rocked a bit. The news was still so awful, she could hardly speak it. Even to Margie. “The woman left a will, asking that the attorney in charge of her estate contact Connor before putting the boy up for adoption.” She paused. “He has no other family.”

For a long while they said nothing. Then Margie took Michele’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Mitch. You have no idea . . .”

“I have some idea.” She uttered a sound that was more cry than laugh.

“But Connor isn’t the cheating type . . .”

“I know.”

“He wouldn’t recognize a female who had something for him if she had the truth plastered on her forehead.” Margie sat cross-legged. “He was the last one in the world who should’ve had an affair.” She thought about that. “I mean, no one should have an affair, but Connor? Connor Evans?”

“Yeah.” A sad sound escaped her. “I guess no one’s safe.” 190

– Karen Kingsbury –

“So . . .” Margie grew still, her normally bright eyes dark with the weight of the moment. “You’re staying with him, right? I mean, you’re going to work through it with him, aren’t you?” It was the first time anyone had asked her, and the first answer that came to mind frightened her. “I’m not sure.”

“Mitch . . . what he did was wrong, but it was eight years ago, honey.” Margie’s eyes glistened. “You can’t throw away what you have now over something that far back in the past. Unless . . .”

“No.” Michele shook her head. “Connor says that was the only time.” The words felt plastic, and for the hundredth time Michele let doubt have its way with her. “Of course, he’s lied about the Hawaiian flight attendant all these years. I guess he could be lying about other times.”

“No, Mitch. You can’t think that way.”

“I don’t know.” Michele eased her hand away and folded her arms tight against herself. “Makes me wonder if my weight had something to do with it. I kept telling him I’d lose it on my own, but . . .” She patted her thighs. “It hasn’t happened yet.” Margie gave her shoulder a small shove. “Don’t be crazy. Connor’s nowhere near that shallow. Whatever was going on with the two of you back then, your weight wasn’t the issue.” Michele thought about that. “If not my weight, then what?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it had nothing to do with you. Or maybe it’s something God has to show you.”