Unlocked (16 page)

My precious daughter, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up … do you not perceive it … I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. I love you, my daughter … you are not alone. Not now or ever.

Tracy almost pulled off the road. The answer was so clear, so strong she caught herself glancing in the rearview mirror. As if the Lord were sitting in her backseat. This was the verse she’d prayed so many times over Holden. The verse from Isaiah 43:19 about God making a way through the wilderness, streams in the desert. But never—not once since she’d been praying that verse —had she ever felt the Lord speak it back to her.

Until this moment.

She was almost at the school, driving the last few miles on the highway, when a memory came to life, crisp and real from fifteen years ago. She and Suzanne were sitting in the Reynolds’ kitchen drinking sweet tea and Suzanne was saying something about the lemons being better than usual and suddenly from the backyard came the sheer limitless laughter of Holden and Ella.

The memory was so real and vivid she could smell the lemon, feel the cool glass in her hand. And she could hear the laughter of their children, ringing in her heart and soul and mind, like it did that long ago day.

She and Suzanne had both turned at the sound. “Can you hear it?” Suzanne smiled and the future shone in her eyes. “That’s the sound of the years flying by.” She snapped her manicured fingers.

“You’re right.” Tracy looked at their children. “Tomorrow they’ll be seniors in high school.”

“They’re the most precious kids.” Suzanne stared out the window again. “Look at them.”

Tracy looked. She was still looking, because the picture
burned a lasting impression in her heart. Holden was holding a handful of dandelions as he chased Ella around the swing set and he was catching up to her, and Ella was spinning around and they were both laughing. Always laughing. And Tracy had her best friend across from her and the sun was shining on the faces of their kids and Holden was saying, “Half for you because you’re my Ella! Okay? Half for you.”

And Ella was holding out her hands and telling Holden, “Okay, give me half!” Holden was separating half the dandelions out and placing them in Ella’s little fingers and she was grinning at him and raising her blonde eyebrows and squealing, “Now what, Ho’den?”

“Now throw ’em!” And Holden was tossing the flowers in the air and Ella was joining in and doing the same, and they were giggling as the flowers rained down on their heads. A few dandelions stayed in their hair, and the sight hit a funny bone in both of them, because they were picking the flowers up off the ground and placing them on their heads until they looked like a couple of hippie kids. And they were laughing and laughing until they fell down on the ground, two towheads in a mix of dirty knees and dandelions.

The laughter faded first, and then the image of their faces, and finally like every other wonderful moment from the past, the memory slipped back to yesterday where it belonged. So much missing. So very much missing. Tracy ran her fingers beneath her eyes and dried her cheeks. But she could do nothing about the ache in her heart. Because yesterday only loaned out memories like that at times like this —when Tracy was doing the most absolutely normal thing.

Driving to Fulton High to pick up Holden.

E
LLA WASN’T SURE, BUT SHE HAD A FEELING
H
OLDEN REMEMBERED
her. He still flapped his arms in drama that afternoon, but he didn’t do any push-ups. Once when Mr. Hawkins told them to take a break, Ella looked back and caught him staring at her. Not past her or through her, but right straight at her. The way he had a couple times now. His eyes shifted almost as soon as she saw him, but that didn’t change the fact. By the end of their third full theater rehearsal together, Ella had a hunch about Holden.

He understood more than the kids at Fulton thought.

Class had just ended, and Ella went to Holden’s side. He was still sitting, rocking slightly and looking into his backpack. Probably for his flash cards. “Holden, I’m Ella. Do you remember me?”

He stopped rocking and sat straighter. Then in a way that was slow and clearly on purpose, Holden lifted his eyes to hers. This time he didn’t look away. Instead he stayed connected to her and she didn’t have to hear his answer. His blue eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Yes, he remembered her.

She wasn’t sure how, because fifteen years was a long time. But Holden remembered, she was sure. And standing there in Mr. Hawkins’ class with the rest of the kids already gone, somehow Ella remembered him too. Not just from the photos in the scrapbook she’d brought to school that day. But him … the heart behind his amazing eyes.

There was a noise behind her, and Ella turned toward the
sound. Holden’s mother stood in the doorway. Their eyes met, and the woman smiled. But still her eyes were sad. “Hi, Ella.”

“Hello, ma’am.” Ella looked back at Holden. He was staring at his backpack again, the connection they’d shared a moment earlier gone. “I was just …” Her eyes found Mrs. Harris. “I was talking to Holden. I asked if he remembers me.”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t seem in a hurry like the other day. “You’re very nice to him, Ella. I pray all the time that Holden will find a friend. I pray for a miracle for him. I just didn’t think …”

“You didn’t think it would be me.” Ella heard the disappointment in her voice. If only her mother would’ve given Holden a chance. She managed a quick smile. “I talked to my mom about it.”

The news seemed to hit Mrs. Harris, because something changed in her expression. But only for a brief moment. She came closer and Ella sensed a peace within her. Like she had a special kind of faith or trust, maybe. She stopped near Holden’s other side. “You asked if he remembers you.” Her smile softened and she looked at Holden and then back. “He does, Ella. I know he does.”

“I think so too.” Ella let that thought settle in her heart for a few seconds. “He looked at me. Just before you got here.” In the corner of her eye she saw Holden digging through his backpack. He pulled out his cards and started shuffling them.”

“At
you?” Mrs. Harris hesitated. “You mean in your direction? Near you?”

“No.” She smiled and the slightest laugh came from her. A happy laugh. “He looked right at me. He’s done that a few times. That’s how come I think you’re right, that he remembers me.”

Holden pulled a card from the deck and then changed his mind and stuck it back in the middle somewhere. Mrs. Harris looked at him and then settled carefully in the seat beside him. “Holden, are you glad you found Ella?”

Ella expected him to look up again, but he kept sorting. After
half a minute, Mrs. Harris stood again and lowered her voice. “He … he hasn’t looked right at me in a long time. And he hasn’t talked since his diagnosis.”

The truth hit Ella like so many fragments of broken glass. She squinted, not believing. Holden didn’t look at his mother? How hard would that be, living with someone who didn’t connect with you? But then … he had definitely connected with her.

Once more Holden snagged a card from the deck and this time he held it up for them to see. Both Ella and Mrs. Harris leaned a little closer. The picture was a heart and music notes and what looked like an old-fashioned radio. Beneath it the words said,
I love this song.
As he held it, Holden didn’t look at either of them. His eyes were cast upward to a distant empty spot on the classroom wall.

Ella’s heart fell. When Holden looked at her, for that short time he was like any other kid. No, he was better than the other kids, because his eyes were kind and sweet and full of hope. Like no one had ever been mean to him or picked on him. Like all things in life were possible. But now … She looked at Holden’s mother. “What song?”

A helpless look warmed her expression and she smiled briefly at Holden. “I’m not sure. The music cards are new.” She sighed. “Holden loves all music. It was very nice of you, Ella. Getting him in this class.”

“He tried to stop and watch. When his class walked by.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I thought he should be allowed to stay.”

“Well … thank you.” She looked deep into Ella’s face, like she was seeing the little girl she’d once been. “You were such a sweet child. I always thought you’d grow up to be a nice girl.” She touched the side of Ella’s face and a hint of tears sparkled in her eyes. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever see you again.”

Ella remembered the scrapbook. “Just a minute.” It was on the other side of the classroom, and she hurried to it. Ella hadn’t
expected this, the connection she felt to Holden’s mother. So far the woman seemed to be everything her mom was not. She talked easily, and she had a transparency about her that was refreshing. Nothing about her looked fake or bought or injected. Maybe it was the praying she’d talked about earlier. Something Ella’s family never did.

As Ella returned with the scrapbook she watched Holden slide the song card back into the deck and begin sorting through them more slowly. Ella sat in a chair a few spots down from him. She motioned for Holden’s mother to join her. “I brought this from home.”

Mrs. Harris took the chair next to her. She stared at the scrapbook and gently touched the cover. “I remember this. We each made one.” She turned her eyes to Ella. “Your mother and I.”

Ella ran her hand over it. “This is how I found out about Holden. I was going to show him.” She glanced at Holden. “But maybe it’s too soon.”

“Yes.” The woman looked back at Holden. For a moment.

“Maybe.”

Ella opened the front cover and flipped past the first few pages to the place where the picture spreads started including the Reynolds family. “I like this one.” She pointed to a photo of Holden and her sitting cross legged in what must have been the Harris’ backyard. They were facing each other, blowing bubbles. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

“All the time.” She smiled. “I remember that day.”

Another page and Ella stopped at a picture of the moms, their heads tilted in toward each other, goofy smiles on their faces. For the first time since Ella figured out her connection to Holden, something occurred to her. The friendship between Holden and her wasn’t the only one lost. “You and my mom … Were you close?”

Mrs. Harris sat back in her seat a little. “Yes.” A quiet sigh came from her. “Very close.”

Ella studied the photo. “How did you meet?”

Holden’s mother leaned close again, her eyes on the picture. “First day … freshman year of high school. She was in three of my classes, and we both wore the same blue shirt. By the time the last class rolled around, she told the teacher we were twins.” She smiled, the memory a happy one. “We were best friends from that day on.”

Ella enjoyed the story, but … best friends? She felt her smile drop off. “Like … best, best friends?”

“Have you seen your parents’ wedding album?” Holden’s mother’s expression was tender.

“A long time ago.” She pictured the way her parents were lately, never together, never talking. She blinked, willing away the memory. “The pictures are in our china cabinet. I don’t think anyone’s looked at it for a while.”

“I was your mother’s maid of honor.” She touched the faces beneath the plastic. “And she was mine. Our husbands were friends because of us. But your mother was … Well, she was like a sister.” The shiny look was back in her eyes, and her smile all but died. “I still miss her.”

“Why don’t you call?” Ella hated that her mother had lost a friend like Mrs. Harris. “I mean, was it that bad? How it ended?”

“We didn’t fight. Nothing like that”

Holden was rocking again, not too hard or too fast, but something was irritating him. Ella wished she knew what. Did he understand them? Did he remember when their families were friends and their mothers were like sisters? She looked straight at Holden’s mother again. “It was because … because things changed, is that right?”

Mrs. Harris sighed. “The other day … I wished I had more time with you so I could find out about your parents, how they’re
doing.” She looked past Ella toward the cloudy afternoon sky. “There were days after our friendship died, when I wasn’t sure where the pain of losing Holden stopped and the pain of losing your mother began. It all blurred together for the longest time, especially after Holden’s dad left.”

“Oh.” Ella felt the disappointment. “You and Holden’s dad are divorced?”

“No.” Her smile was sad again. She glanced at Holden. If he was listening, he didn’t show it. His rocking slowed down, and he was sorting through his cards again. Mrs. Harris looked at Ella. “Mr. Harris is a fisherman in Alaska. We hardly ever see him.”

“Oh.” Ella thought about that. She felt sorry for Holden, that his dad wasn’t around. He’d lost much over the years, and now that they’d talked this much, Ella wanted to know the reason, wanted to hear it from Mrs. Harris. “So what happened? To end things between our families?”

“It was a long time ago, Ella.” She didn’t look like she wanted to place the blame on anyone. “Holden’s diagnosis was hard on all of us.”

“In what way?”

Once more the woman hesitated, as if she were weighing out how much to say. “Your mom worried about Holden … how his autism might affect you. Whether it was a learned behavior or contagious or when it might go away.”

Ella could picture her mother that way —worried more about Ella becoming autistic than the fact that they’d lost Holden.

Mrs. Harris clasped her hands and stared at them for a few seconds. “I was … Well, I didn’t handle your mom’s questions very well. I got defensive.” She raised one shoulder. “Things became distant between us, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.” The story was coming together. Ella imagined that eventually her mother’s uneasiness about Holden drove a wedge between them bigger than Georgia. And Mrs. Harris
could only defend Holden for so long without coming across as argumentative.

“I remember when it happened … when the break became permanent.” Mrs. Harris looked back at the spread of photos again. “Our phone calls were less and less frequent, our times together less often. Your parents took you to Florida for spring training.” She smiled at Ella. “Your dad was hitting better than almost anyone in the league back then.”