Prospect Street (47 page)

“Give me credit for a little sense.” Remy still didn't pull away. “Alex found the furniture. I dusted the dollhouse and got it ready.”

“Jody will love it.”

“She'll probably make me play with her.”

“And you'll hate every minute, right?”

“I'm not a little kid anymore.”

“Not a kid and not quite a grown-up,” Lydia said. “But a pretty decent in-between—if you ask an old grandmother.”

Remy shot her a grateful smile. “I'm going to call Megan.”

“You can't tell her about Karina,” Faith said.

“That's so lame. Finally something interesting happens to me that doesn't involve getting grounded, and I can't tell anybody!” Remy punched her mother lightly in the side before she
broke away. She glanced at her grandmother; then she grinned and punched her, too.

Faith thought it was definitely a love punch. From her mother's expression, she was pretty sure Lydia agreed.

 

The final leg of the flight was held up by an hour. Bad weather, holiday air traffic, a stopover for the President's plane in New York that stranded passengers in cities all over the continent. Pavel claimed the delay was a combination of all those things and simple bad luck. He was still at the airport, but in their last phone call he had assured Faith that Karina and the children were in the air now and expected momentarily.

Lydia wasn't certain she would survive the wait, even though Faith had made a point of keeping her informed at every turn. Now, thirty-five minutes after Pavel's call, Faith settled herself on the sofa again, where Lydia herself had been rooted since his departure.

“Are you going to make it?” Faith asked.

Lydia tried to sound strong. “I've had practice. I used to imagine a reunion with Hope, but I always thought the fantasy was as close as I'd come.”

“At least you had a chance to prepare.”

“Thirty-eight years.”

A car door slammed in front of the house. The fact that someone had found a parking spot on Prospect was something of a miracle. Lydia thought if that someone was Pavel Quinn, the miracle would be complete.

Faith left her to go to the front window and peek outside. She turned, her eyes shining. “Lord, she looks like Pavel, Mother. More than in her photographs. He didn't tell me.”

Lydia's bones seemed to dissolve. What had been a skeleton was now elastic.

“Maybe you should sit,” Faith said. But it was too late, because Lydia was already struggling to her feet. A perfunctory knock was their only preparation. Pavel pushed the door open before Faith could reach it. He stood back.

Karina, followed by two wide-eyed children, walked through the doorway.

Karina's eyes went immediately to Lydia. There was something of a pause, although for Lydia time meant nothing. Then Karina smiled; her father's crooked smile.

“Hey, Mom,” she said softly. “I'm home.”

T
he house on Prospect Street rested on a foundation of stone, laid there by an expert mason more than a hundred years before. Faith discovered that in February while she was shoveling snow away from the basement door. She hadn't given much thought to the foundation until that moment, but immediately the symbolism appealed to her. As she cleared away drifts that had hidden the transition between sandstone and cherry-red brick, an idea formed.

This morning Faith had awakened to a spectacular sunrise, but she wasn't alarmed, because she understood this particular announcement. Something momentous
was
going to occur, and she could hardly wait. Now, with springtime sun warming the newly landscaped garden where she and her family stood, Faith handed a slender chisel and wooden mallet to her mother.

“Really, Faith, you're sure this will do the job?” Lydia had already printed her first name in chalk in the area they'd decided on together. It was six feet from the door, and someday it would be framed by the new camellias that were waiting in five-gallon pots for Faith to plant.

Faith had already given verbal instructions and a short demo.
“I experimented. The stone's soft enough to work with. Give it a try. You don't have to be Michelangelo.”

Lydia, still wearing the raspberry-colored suit she'd put on that morning to hear David preach his first sermon, stooped and began to tap the chisel with the mallet Faith had provided.

“Do you have a camera?” Karina asked her sister.

“Oh, I'm glad you remembered.” Faith motioned for Alex, who was chasing Jeremy around the yard. “You two, don't step on the daffodils.”

The two boys joined them, and Faith asked Alex to retrieve the camera. “How come Remy can't do it?” he complained.

“She's gone to get Dottie Lee.” Faith looked toward her neighbor's house and saw the old woman coming through the hedge, Titi tucked under one arm. Remy held the branches back so that Dottie Lee could step through. Jody was helping.

Alex muttered something about slave labor and started for the basement door.

Faith felt Pavel's arms circle her waist, and she leaned back against him. “Maybe we should have set up a tent,” he whispered in her ear. “Had the event catered.”

“It won't take that long. We're only doing first names. Except Karina. She gets two.”

“Karina Hope,” Karina said. “Not all that catchy, but it does the trick.”

Pavel pulled her in for a hug, too, one woman in each arm, and the sisters watched as their mother struggled with the chisel. Alex arrived and shot a photograph.

“Violet did it,” Faith said, when, like her grandson, Lydia muttered something unflattering under her breath. “And the millstone is granite.”

“I don't see why we couldn't just sign a bedroom wall in Magic Marker.”

“Yes, you do.”

Lydia grumbled, but she went back to chiseling. When Jeremy volunteered to help, she embraced him and helped him hold the mallet.

“This is a pretty nice moment,” Pavel said.

Faith agreed. It was that and more.

They were a different family than the one they had been last year at this time. Faith and David's divorce was final, and Joe and Lydia's was underway. Last week Lydia had closed on a house in Alexandria, and now she was in the process of moving in and unpacking. Karina and her children, who were out of school for spring break, had driven down from Canada to help.

The happy conclusion of Hope Huston's story had, as expected, been a major news item. Ham broke it with an exclusive, although the public would never know the entire truth. There were no revelations about Hope's true parentage, and Joe and Lydia's separation was explained as a mutually agreeable, though painful, solution to a marriage that had suffered too much emotional trauma. If anyone wondered why Joe was never photographed with his long-lost daughter, they would wonder eternally.

Joe had announced his plans to retire from the senate at the end of his current term. Although he still refused to see Faith, he had told her during a brief phone call that he intended to make a permanent home in southern Virginia, where he had roots and supporters. She knew from Lydia that he was already negotiating for a consulting position.

The police and the FBI had questioned the family extensively, but so far the scanty details Faith and Pavel had revealed about Sandor Babin had borne no fruit. Alec the Can Man hadn't yet been found. Faith and Pavel hoped he would live out his final years in peace.

“I see you started without me,” Dottie Lee said.

“Listen, you can do the work yourself if it makes you happy.” Lydia got to her feet. “All right, I've made a start.”

Faith squinted at the foundation stone. “Mother, you've barely scratched it.”

“My name's clear enough. There'll be plenty of time for me to gouge it deeper for all posterity to see. Let Karina take her turn now.” Lydia handed her oldest daughter the chisel.

Karina laughed. Faith loved the sound. This sister of hers, this phantom who had haunted her life, was warm, funny, intelligent and as well-grounded as any human being Faith had ever met. Faith was looking forward to a life of getting to know her better. They had already booked a cruise for later in the spring. Just the two sisters and Lydia.

“I'll take my turn,” Karina said, “but I've got more to chisel than anybody else.”

“Don't forget the line between your name and Mother's.” The three women had decided to connect their names. They had been separated long enough.

“I was absolutely certain I would live to see this day,” Dottie Lee said.

Lydia walked over to stand beside her. “You did your share to make it happen,” she said grudgingly.

“Why, Lyddy, that almost sounds like praise.”

“Mark this day. How often have
you
heard praise from a woman?” The two old friends looked at each other and smiled.

There was noise from the basement stairwell, and David and Ham emerged from the house, David still in his suit, Ham in a sportscoat and jeans. “Did we miss the big event?” David asked.

“If you come back in ten years you won't miss it,” Faith said. “It's going to take some time to do it right. But we're making a start.”

Remy and Alex flanked their father, and he put an arm around each of their shoulders. The four Bronsons had been in counseling together for three months, and as painful as the experience had been, it had made important changes in all of them. Remy's behavior wasn't perfect, but when Faith had problems with her daughter, she and David worked on solutions together. Reports from the middle school were encouraging, and Remy was seriously studying piano now and loving it.

“Thank you all for coming this morning,” David said. “It meant a lot.”

Faith was proud of David. He was interning at a church downtown, and today had been his debut in the pulpit. He had
chosen forgiveness as his topic, and he had been both inspired and inspirational. David had found his calling.

She caught his eye and smiled. “You were great.” She smiled at Ham, too. “Didn't you think so?”

Ham grinned. “Good enough that I might go back in twenty years to see if he gets any better.”

“We came to steal the kids,” David said. “But we can wait.”

Karina, who had been chiseling steadily, got to her feet. “Okay, okay. It's harder than it looks. But if you squint, you'll see the start of something good here. Faith, take your turn and let these kids get out of here.”

Faith took the chisel. Like Lydia, Karina had done little more than scratch the surface, but there was plenty of time for all of them to perfect their efforts. Faith hadn't chosen stone to be contrary. It seemed the perfect medium. Their names would be hard-won, but they would be right here, together, forever.

Faith knelt and began to add her own, connecting it to Karina's. Like the others, it needed hard work and time, but she wasn't going anywhere.

When she finally stood, everybody clapped. Then, one by one, they left. David and Ham with Remy and Alex. Lydia with Karina and her children. Dottie Lee back through the hedge.

Faith was alone, at last, with Pavel.

“Wasn't that something?” she asked him, her eyes shining. “I never imagined we'd have a day like this one.”

“A new beginning.”

In the months since they found Karina, Pavel had bided his time, helping everyone make the transition into new relationships, using his contacts to be sure the family got fair coverage in the media. He had spent long hours at Scavenger, wrapping up his tenure there and figuring out how and if he wanted to fit into the company in the future. Like the rest of them, Pavel had quietly transformed his life.

Faith waited, but he didn't say more. Pavel had supported her every step of the way, but although he was always affec
tionate, they had rarely been alone, and they had never become lovers again. She had been waiting for him to say “more” for months now. But he was obviously waiting for her.

“Well?” she said at last. “Elaborate a little. What kind of new beginning?” atient you are?” she said. “Because sometimes you've been so patient I've wondered if maybe you'd just gotten tired of having so many people in your life. Too much of a good thing.”

“Patient? Yes, I have been patient, haven't I? I ought to get a commendation. And let's not forget trustworthy.”

“You know I'd trust you with my life, Pavel.”

“Funny you should put it that way. Someday I might ask you to do exactly that.”

She smiled up at him. Today her heart had been filled to overflowing, or so she had thought. But Pavel's love was the hidden spring, the source of joy now and for the future. Pavel, and all they could share, was the final measure.

She was certain of that now.

“You'll take me, warts and all?” she said.

“Right now I'll just settle for taking you to my house until your kids come home. Will you come with me?”

She squeezed his hand, or rather, she gripped tightly. “I was going to offer you dinner, a real home-cooked meal. Just the two of us. You never got the one I promised the day you saved my piano.”

“You can cook at my house.”

“We'll be eating late?”

He drew her against him for a kiss. It was all the answer she needed.