Authors: Misha Crews
But Jenna wasn’t ready to let the matter drop. It was stuck in her mental craw. She picked it up from an oblique angle. “I talked to Kitty about death right after Christopher was born. She was so happy about the baby, which is understandable. But she just seemed so lighthearted…I can’t explain it. I wanted to know how she did it. I was curious — ”
“Bloodlessly curious, no doubt,” Frank murmured teasingly.
Jenna ignored him and continued, “I just wanted to understand what was going on in her mind, I guess. So I asked her, straight out, how she was able to cope with the loss of her two boys. And do you know what she told me?” Jenna felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and blinked, not wanting Frank to see them. “She said that she’d realized that people come into our lives when we need them. And when we no longer need them, they leave. Denny and Bud had been hers as long as she needed them. And now the baby had come, because she needed him. And, she said, so did I.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Frank’s eyes glinted as he stroked his mustache. “And who decides when these people come and go? God, I suppose?”
Jenna looked away. “You don’t believe in God.”
“No, I wish I did. And you don’t either, if I remember correctly.”
“No,” Jenna said softly. And if Frank saw the sadness in her eyes, he gave no sign of it.
“People come and go in our lives because life is random. It’s not God, and it’s not even Fate. Life is just
X
— it’s the unknown factor.”
She found the strength to smile. “So sayeth the mathematician.”
“So sayeth.” He smiled back. In the yellowing light of the kitchen, he looked handsome and very, very kind. “And now, my beautiful savage, where shall we go to dinner?”
C
HAPTER
S
EVEN
I
T WAS ALMOST DARK WHEN
A
DAM
got home. He had left Christopher’s party as soon as decency allowed, giving Kitty a kiss good-bye and Bill a brief hug, promising to come to dinner the following week.
He had not bothered to say good-bye to Jenna. He figured that she would know, better than anyone, why he had chosen to leave early.
Fortunately, Kitty had not renewed her insistence for Adam to stay with her and Bill. She’d been too busy with cake and presents and all the bliss of being with the boy she thought was her grandchild.
Adam made his way back to the city, a different man than when he’d left it. As he let himself into the apartment, he was thankful for two things: first, that his roommate Pete was off with a girl, so Adam had the place to himself, and second, that there was plenty of ice in the freezer. He fumbled out of his shoes and pulled back the drapes that covered the high, wide windows. As he looked down at the quiet streets, a tide of bitterness rose inside him, blotting out the twinkling lights below.
How neatly he had seen his future lined up: Marry Jenna, be a father to Bud’s son, float happily through the rest of his life on the cloud of a suburban dream.
Well, he had been brought neatly back to earth, now hadn’t he? And he didn’t want to ponder what had gone wrong, didn’t want to think about Jenna or the ruthlessly efficient way she had dissected him. He just wanted to get lost in a soft ocher oblivion.
He turned away from the window and reached for the bottle of bourbon that Pete always kept handy. The amber liquid splashing over ice cubes caught the light of a table lamp. When he drank, it was fire and ice in his throat.
Adam gripped the glass. He was a man at sea, tossed by waves of furious emotion, without compass, and with no land in sight.
* * *
He stumbled to bed in the gray light of pre-dawn and awoke at noon on Sunday with the need to see something beautiful. At least he knew where to find it. He stood under a hot shower for ten minutes, forced down some breakfast and a pot of black coffee, then headed out to Hollin Hills.
The rain had returned sometime in the early morning hours, but that was fine with Adam. It suited his mood perfectly. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to get out and walk around. He just needed to cleanse his mental palate after yesterday’s calamity. He also thought it might be a good idea to get the lay of the land, so to speak, before he had his first official day of work on Monday. And that could easily be done from the dry comfort of his new car.
Six months ago, when he was still far away in Panama, he had been planning his return to Virginia, designing his future with what now seemed like idiotic arrogance. The job offer with Robert Davenport’s development company had fit neatly into his expectations. As he’d studied the Hollin Hills house and landscape blueprints that his future employer had sent him, Adam had pictured living there with Jenna and the many children they would have. He had seen himself staying with Davenport for years to come, helping to build the new wave of American homes.
Now he didn’t know what he was going to do. Stay on and watch Jenna marry Frank? Have to listen to his own son call another man “Father”? How was he supposed to bear that?
Last night’s pint of whiskey had provided him with neither smarts enough to answer those questions, nor guts enough to try. Of course, in the cold light of day, he called himself an idiot for turning to the bottle. The men in his family weren’t exactly known for being able to hold their liquor. What he had been hoping for was an alleviation of the melancholy that pooled bluely inside him. But all he got was an aching head to match his aching heart.
He drove across Memorial Bridge as he had the day before, but instead of going west to Arlington, he headed south down George Washington Parkway. It was a good drive to take when the soul needed soothing. The parkway followed the river, winding like a country lane, with the calming stretch of Potomac River to the east and wooded parkland to the west.
Spring rain in DC was an affable thing, a gentle sprinkling of water that soaks the ground for the thirsting flowers. Adam kept the window cracked so he could smell the fresh, wet air as it fell from the woolly clouds. He could feel his spirits begin to lift as the good clean dampness invaded his pores. The wipers smoothed the rain away from his new windshield with a soothing, familiar sound. By the time Adam reached the south side of Olde Towne, Alexandria, he was almost himself again.
He cut west to Fort Hunt Road, then turned south again. Following the directions he’d scribbled on a paper napkin, he turned right onto Paul Spring Road and up onto the winding roads of Hollin Hills.
The next hour was a blissful blur of order and chaos. How amazing it was to see those well-remembered plans come to life before his eyes. There was the solid, symmetrical structure of the houses — glass and stone, windows and doors, carports and patios. And there was the joyous bedlam of trees and bushes, grass and flowers.
He wound around happily, almost blindly, until at last he found himself on Windmeir Lane. That was the place he had really come to see. The road had been paved, but so far no houses had been built there. Construction had been on hiatus for the past few months, and the plan was for Adam to help get things started up again. But that wasn’t why he was here today.
He drove to the end of the lane, to the gentle cul-de-sac that would soon be home to three houses. He found the lot he was looking for, set the hand brake and got out of the car. It was still raining, but that was no longer important. Adam walked into the dripping woods, pacing the circumference of the lot. Then he returned to the road and stood still, looking around him.
Three months ago, Adam had bought this parcel of land. At the time, it was meant to have been an engagement present for Jenna. He thought that he would propose, she would accept, and he would give her the land as a surprise. More fool he.
After yesterday, of course, that dream was officially deflated. And last night, as he’d whiled away the hours with his dear friend Jim Beam, it had seemed like just another empty plot of land on a vast planet, devoid of human kindness. With drunken wisdom he had decided that he would sell the land, take whatever money he could, and seek out a new place to live, far away from his murdered hopes and decaying dreams.
But having seen the place for himself, having smelled the air and felt the earth under his feet…well, things were different. Much different. There was something rarified about this place, something lush and almost holy. It gave him the feeling he had managed to journey out of the present and into the future. His future. And with a little work, it could still be a happy one.
“Hollin Hills,” he whispered to himself. A smile spread over his face. “Welcome home.”
C
HAPTER
E
IGHT
O
N
M
ONDAY MORNING,
A
DAM AWOKE WITH
the sun. All trace of his hangover had gone, and with it went the last vestiges of his bad mood. He felt the way he’d felt when he was first starting out in the service, approaching a new engineering project with energy, curiosity, and a healthy dose of fear that always eventually succumbed to the “can-do” attitude of the Seabees.
The difficult we do at once. The impossible takes a bit longer.
Not wanting to bother with city parking, Adam took the streetcar downtown and found Robert Davenport’s office building with little trouble. The lobby was smallish and floored in tiny white tiles, with a Roman key pattern in black around the edges. There was an elevator on his right, enclosed by an old-fashioned gate, with a wide staircase next to it. He opted for the stairs, trotting up the four flights just to see if his heart could take it. It did. The office doors were dark wood with pebbled glass inserts. He stopped at the one labeled 408, knocked, and then opened the door.
He found himself in a reception office, complete with a sofa, chairs, and cocktail table. A secretary’s desk was behind a low railing, and in back of that were several doors that most likely led to other offices. There was no one in sight, but a steaming cup of coffee on the desk blotter told him that someone was around. While he waited, Adam looked at the framed photos hanging on the wall, twirling his hat on his finger. They were all pictures of homes in various stages of development. He paused before a house that looked much like the ones they were building in Hollin Hills. His adrenaline began to rise.
One of the doors behind the desk opened, and a pretty girl with freckles came out, carrying a stack of files. When she saw Adam, she smiled. “Oh, hello. You must be Mr. Balentine.” She dropped the files on her desk and came through the little wooden gate to greet him.
“Adam,” he replied, holding out his hand.
She shook it. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “I’m Midge Geddes, Robert Davenport’s secretary. Mr. Davenport is out of town this week — I think Ray mentioned that to you?”
Ray Ferguson was the man who had hired Adam. “Yes. Ray said that he’d get me started, show me the ropes.”
“He’s just stepped out, but he’ll be back in a moment. Won’t you sit down?”
Adam sat on the pebbly gray sofa and accepted the cup of coffee that Midge handed him. She sat down one of the armchairs and crossed her legs, clasping her hands over her knee. She was a little gamine of a gal, with a pert nose and sandy hair cut square along her jaw.
“We’re very excited to have you join us, Adam.”
“Is that right?” He blew on his coffee.
“Oh yes. I mean, even aside from your qualifications, Senator Burgess has been singing your praises for months. I think Davenport might have found himself in front of a Congressional committee if he hadn’t hired you!”
Adam straightened his tie, feeling a bit uneasy. “The Senator’s been very good to me. I don’t know what kind of nonsense he’s been telling you — ”
“Only that you single-handedly kept the Japanese out of Panama and restored thousands of Greeks to their homes after the ‘53 earthquake in Kefalonia.” Midge’s eyes twinkled. “No, most of that is my exaggeration. But the Senator did say that you saved his son’s life in Korea. And he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to make up something like that, politician or no.”
“Pete Burgess and I have been through a lot together,” Adam told her. “His father is a very generous man. I’m actually staying with Pete right now, until the new house is finished. By the way, I drove out to the site yesterday. It’s really something.”
Again there was a twinkle. “Your desire to change the subject is noted and accepted. And I agree with you, Hollin Hills is very impressive. It’s the main reason that I moved down here from New York.” She turned. “Oh, here’s Ray.”
The girl must have a sixth sense, Adam thought. A moment after she said those words, the hall door opened. The man who entered was in his mid-thirties but almost completely bald, with just a fringe of dark hair running around the edge of his shiny skull. His clothes were a little on the wrinkled side, and he had the wide, floppy grin of a man who never failed to enjoy a lunchtime cocktail — or two. Adam liked him on sight.
“Adam Balentine!” Ray said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you face to face.”
“You too, Ray.” Adam rose to shake hands, then dropped back on the sofa as Ray sprawled comfortably on the arm of Midge’s chair.