Wake the Dawn (27 page)

He killed the engine; he was smiling. “A few weeks ago, had you told me this, I probably would have cut and run. But thanks to Ansel and Beth, God has fixed some things. My rage at Him had to go for me to heal. To think I was refusing to forgive God, who sent his son to die for me, so I could forgive Him. Can you beat that?”

“So you are saying I have to forgive my mother?”

He nodded. “And even more so, yourself.”

“Ben, how could I have just driven off like that? It wasn’t Jefferson, but it so easily could have been.”

“Not hard to see. You were young and terrified. Never encountered a situation like that before, didn’t know what to do, panicked. Not hard to see at all.”

She could see he was right, but it didn’t work. She was still torn up. “You said they never found out who hit the black car. What are the legal consequences, I mean, if I walk into the highway patrol office and confess?”

“Are you aware of the statute of limitations?”

“I heard the phrase.”

“With a few exceptions, most crimes are forgiven, so to speak, after seven years. Or three, for some. Never for murder or manslaughter.”

“So if I just wait a few years, you’re saying.”

“Talk to Dr. Livingston’s wife. But you’re not in serious trouble, as for example you would have been had you hit Clara’s car.”

“This is all coming at me too fast. I have no idea what will happen now. I know this. I sure have some hard work to do.”

He chuckled. “It’ll be worth it. Peace is always worth it. Let’s both just bring God in on this, let Him do the worrying and fussing. Far easier on the body.”

“I can’t believe you are saying these things.” She realized he had taken her hands in his.

“I can’t either.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand.

“Someone said that storms change things.”

“Well, I guess. In our cases, our entire lives. And that will continue to happen. Look at all that has gone on.”

Esther leaned her head on the back of the seat. “Do you wish you could see ahead?”

“Nope, not anymore. Have enough to do dealing with the here and now.” He was studying her again. Not staring. Studying. Sort of exploring her face with his eyes. “I love you.”

Love. More foreign territory she would have to explore. This exploration, though, should be much more delightful than exploring stress disorders. “I think I am learning what love feels and looks like. And if that’s what I’m experiencing, I rather like it.”

Ben leaned over, turned her face toward him with a gentle finger, and kissed her softly. “This is what love feels like.”

Brand-new feelings, wonderful feelings, bubbled through her. She took a deep breath and drew back. “Ben, are you sure? I mean; about us. That this would work?”

“Absolutely. But then I’ve had more time to realize and admit my feelings than you have.” He kissed her again.

“What about Dawn?”

“I want to adopt her. I want the two of us to adopt her. Beth and Ansel will keep her until then. And all will be well.”

“You have it all mapped out.”

“In my head at least. I’ve always been that way. Except when I was boozing. Another reason to steer clear of the bottle.”

“So much work ahead.” She wrapped her fingers through his and kissed the back of his hand. “So much is new to me. I—I would like to say yes. But…”

“That’s a mighty small word with so much hanging on it.” He squeezed her hand. “But we’re not in a hurry. Do the work, both of us. Forgive ourselves, others, the past. When we marry we will rejoice in every day God gives us, just like I am planning on doing right now.”

His expression suddenly changed, from pleasant to stricken. He made a funny sound, something like
argg
. “You know what I think this means? I have to forgive His Highness for being such a jerk. Forgive Perowsky!”

“Well, you said
work
.” Esther started to giggle and tried to stop. “Ben James, you are on your way to becoming a wise man. Go see Mr. Aptos, he’s got wisdom to spare.”

“By the way, are you a lark or an owl?”

“I wake the dawn—most of the time.”

“Me too. Are you sure there isn’t a heavenly edict about larks and owls marrying?”

“Nope. Together we’ll wake the dawn and welcome in each new day. New days not only for us, but all of Pineville. Just wait and see.”

Epilogue

F
rom the roar of thousands of voices in conversation to a quiet, rustling mumble, to near silence. Thousands of faces turned toward this temporary stage. Two times thousands of eyes looked up here.

Showtime.

From the sidelines, Ben rolled Mr. Aptos’s wheelchair out into the center of the stage near the mikes and set the brake. The crowd below and before them erupted in cheers, applause.

Mr. Aptos turned slightly. “Ben, if I die in the next five minutes, I’ll die happy. I never imagined it would be this good.”

“You spearheaded a lasting work that will save many lives. Betcha every speaker Lars lined up is going to say that.”

“Do I have to hang around for all those speeches?” There was a twinkle in his eye.

“If I have to be up here, you can just suffer, too. Now shut up and smile at the folks.”

Bill Aptos cackled exuberantly. And he smiled at the folks.

Had Ben taken bets, he would have won. The state senator, the state rep (election year), the state health and human services secretary, and the lieutenant governor all orated majestically, all extolling the role William Aptos had taken in forging a new future for Pineville. Or something. Ben got bored and quit listening even before the senator had finished.

He looked out at the faces, most of which he recognized. Crowds never bothered him. They terrified Esther, so she was down in front of the stage, the first of this vast crowd. Beth and Ansel flanked her, and Dr. Ho and Dr. Livingston stood behind her. Two years ago, they would have stationed themselves there to block her from bolting. No need to now.

Ben would have preferred that Mr. Aptos be free of his Parkinson’s, of course, but at least he was still alive, still here to see his dream fulfilled. The old man chuckled and wisecracked, absolutely ebullient.

Esther was watching with a glorious, radiant, superlatively happy smile. It was the same radiant smile she’d worn on their wedding day four months ago, and on their honeymoon in Hawaii, and when together they had signed the final papers for Dawn’s adoption. The radiance reflected what Ben felt.

Finally they got to the finale. About time, not that Ben was getting antsy or anything.

Behind them, a bright red satin ribbon stretched across the front doors of the Paul Harden Memorial Hospital. The lieutenant governor stepped forward and handed Mr. Aptos a pair of huge golden scissors.

Bill twisted and nodded to Ben. He nodded back. He released the brakes and rolled Bill over to Esther down front there.

Her mouth dropped open. Startled, she shook her head. Too late. Ansel plunked a wooden stepstool in front of her and was handing her up to Ben. She looked instantly terrified, but she held her own, gripped his hand, stepped up onto the stage.

Mr. Aptos handed her the golden scissors.

She looked at Ben. But it was not an I’ll-get-you-for-this look. It was an I’ll-do-this-because-I-love-you sort of look. Behind her the crowd was clapping enthusiastically.

Mr. Aptos wrapped her hands in his. “You are the hero here, Esther. God bless you. Go do it. You’ve earned it.”

Her mouth moved but she said nothing.

Ben pushed Mr. Aptos along beside her as she crossed to that big satin ribbon.

She took a deep breath. Ben wouldn’t have believed it, but she seemed to grow an inch. She squared her shoulders, stepped forward, clipped the ribbon, handed the scissors to Mr. Aptos, and kissed his forehead. “Thank you, Mr. Aptos, for making my dream come true.”

He gripped her hands in his aged, trembling ones. “Thank
you
, Esther. It was my dream, too. Now wave to the nice people.”

The hospital doors swung wide open.

Ben turned the wheelchair outward and Mr. Aptos and Esther raised their hands toward the crowd in what was called a photo op. There were cameras aplenty, too. Not as much news coverage as the storm two years before, but lots of coverage nonetheless.

As much as Ben hated meetings, this had to be one of the better ones. For the next hour he pushed Mr. Aptos, escorted Esther, and watched people pour into the hospital to tour the facility. When he finally took Mr. Aptos back to the Creekside Rest nursing home, he was plain tuckered out.

He pushed the wheelchair in through the double doors, the security doors, and took his leave. Apparently the party wasn’t over, because as he left, the housebound residents started toasting Mr. Aptos, urging him to cut a decorated sheet cake.

Ben stepped out into quiet twilight and drew in a huge chestful of cool evening air. What a day. Where was Esther? She had been drawn aside for a news interview; apparently that shy young doctor would be the toast of the TV morning shows, whether she liked it or not. That’s okay. She could handle it now.

“Ben?” She stepped out of the shadows beside the walkway. She had Bo on leash.

Grinning wide enough to eat a pie in one piece, he turned and took both her hands in his, gave Bo a brief scratch behind the ears. “TV interview, huh?”

“Not as bad as I thought it would be. The interviewer’s really good at putting you at ease. Afterward, I snuck out the back. I needed some quiet. So I took Bo for a walk on that path down by the pond. Just Bo and me.”

He was still grinning. He couldn’t quit grinning. So good. This was all so good. He draped an arm over her shoulder and led her off toward the house. “Let’s go home.”

1. Dealing with grief is something we all need to learn how to do. Ben went one way, Esther another. Have you ever lost someone you loved? What did you learn about the grief process? What could you share with someone else to help them along the grieving path? 
   
2. Family secrets can really be destructive, and bearing a terrible secret alone can be just as bad. Do you know someone who was set free after their secrets became known? 
   
3. How do you feel about keeping secrets? 
   
4. Grief and secrets can both be destructive to not only one’s mind but also one’s body, as both Esther and Ben knew, and yet they couldn’t let go. What triggered a turnaround for each of them? What does that say to you? 
   
5. Natural disasters seem to do more to trigger community concerns for one another than anything else. What have you done to prepare should a disaster hit your area? What has your church or community done? 
   
6. What characteristics do Ben and Esther share? What is different? What advice would you give them regarding their lives? 
   
7. Hopefully we can learn things from the stories we read. What impacted you and your life the most from this story? 
   
8. What would you like to tell or ask these characters if you were able to talk with them? 
   
9. Who was your favorite character and why? 
   
10. Have you ever known someone with PTSD? How has their problem affected your life as a friend or relative? What advice would you give someone who needs help? 
    

G
ordon, where are you?

Betsy, a middle-aged yellow lab, looked up as if she had heard Nora speaking. The two had been best friends for so long that the twins frequently teased her about mental telepathy—with a dog. Betsy thumped her tail and gazed up from her self-assigned spot at Nora’s feet.

Leaving the bay window seat where she’d been staring out at the moon lighting fire to the frost-encrusted winter lawn that sloped down to the lake shore, Nora crossed the kitchen to set the tea kettle to boiling. Tea always helped in times of distress. She brought out the rose-sprinkled china teapot and filled it with hot water. Tonight was not a mug night but a stoke-up-the-reserves night. If there had been snow on the ground, this was the kind of night, with the moon so bright every blade of grass glinted, when she would have hit the ski trails. An hour of cross country skiing and she’d have been relaxed enough to fall asleep whether Gordon called or not.

So, instead she drank tea. As if copious cups would make her sleep deeply rather than toss and turn. Perhaps she would work on the business plan if she got enough caffeine into her system.

Betsy’s ears perked and she went and stood in front of the door to the garage.

Nora’s heart leaped. Gordon must be home after all. But why hadn’t he called to say he was at the airport? His business trip to Stuttgart, Germany, had already been prolonged and here they were trying to get ready with just four days until Christmas. The last one she could guarantee that the twins would still be home for. Her last chance for perfection. When he’d told her a week ago he had to fly to Stuttgart again, the word again had echoed in her head.

Betsy’s tail increased the wag speed and she backed up as the door opened.

“Mom, I’m home.” Charlie, the older twin by two minutes and named after his father, Charles Gordon Peterson, came through the door in his usual rush. “Oh, there you are.” He paused to pet the waiting dog, grinning up at his mother. “Good girl, Bets, did you take good care of mom?” Betsy wagged her tail and caught the tip of his nose with her black spotted tongue. “Smells good in here.” He glanced around the kitchen, zeroing in on the plate of powdered-sugar-dusted brownies. “Heard from Dad?”

“No.” Nora cupped her elbows with her hands and leaned against the counter. At five-seven the raised counter fit right into the small of her back. When they’d built the house, she and Gordon had chosen cabinets two inches higher than normal since they were both tall. Made for easier work surfaces. “Go ahead, quit drooling and eat. There’s a plate in the fridge for you to pop in the microwave.”

“Where’s Christi?” Charlie asked around a mouthful of walnut-laced brownie.

“Upstairs. I think she’s finishing a Christmas present.”

“Are we going to decorate the tree tonight?”

“We were waiting on you.”
And your father, but somehow he always manages to not be here at tree decorating time
. While Gordon was not a bah humbug kind of guy, his idea of a perfect Christmas was skiing in Colorado. They’d done his last year, with his promise to help make hers perfect this year. Right. Big help from across the Atlantic. While she knew he’d not deliberately chosen to be gone this week before Christmas, it still rankled, irritating under her skin like a fine cactus spine, hard to see and harder to dig out. Charlie retrieved his plate from the fridge and slid it into the microwave, all the while filling his mother in on the antics of the children standing in line to visit Santa. Charlie excelled as one of Santa’s elves, a big elf at six foot but with dark curly hair and hazel eyes that sparkled with the delight. Charlie loved little kids, so when this perfect job came up, he took it and entertained them all in his green and red elf suit. He could turn the saddest tears into laughter. Santa told him not to grow up, he’d need elves forever.

“One little girl had the bluest round eyes you ever saw.” Charlie took his warmed plate out and pulled a stool up to the counter so he could eat. “She had this one great big tear trickling down her cheek but I hid behind my hands…” He demonstrated peek-a-boo with his fingers. “And she sniffed, ducked into Santa, caught herself, and peeked back at me. When he did his ho ho ho, she looked up at him with the cutest grin.” He deepened his voice. “And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

Charlie shifted into shy little girl. “I-I want a kitty. My mommy’s kitty died and she needs a new one.” He paused. “And make sure it has a good motor. My mommy likes to hold one that purrs.” Charlie came back to himself. “Can you believe that, Mom? That’s all she wanted. She reached up and kissed his cheek, slid off his lap, and waved goodbye.”

“What a little sweetheart.”

“I checked with Annie who was taking the pictures and got their address. You think we could find a kitten that has a good motor at the Humane Society?”

“Ask Christi, she’d know.” Christi volunteered one afternoon a week at the Riverbend Humane Society and would bring home every condemned animal if they let her. She’d fostered more dogs and cats in the last year than most people did in a lifetime. She’d found homes for them too, except for Bushy, an older white fluffy cat with one black ear and one black paw. His green eyes captivated her, or at least that was the excuse for his taking up permanent residence. Wherever Christi went, Bushy followed.

“I will. Be nice if there was a half grown one with a loud motor.”

“Loud motor for what?” Christi, Bushy draped across her arm, wandered into the kitchen, a smear of sap green oil paint on her right cheek, matching the blob on the back of her right forefinger. Tall at five nine with an oval face and haunting gray/blue eyes, she looked every bit the traditional blonde Norwegian. But as much as Charlie entertained the world, she observed and translated what she saw onto canvasses that burst with color and yet drew the eye into the shadows where peace and serenity lurked. Christi would rather paint than eat or even breathe at times.

“A little girl asked Santa for a kitty for her mother,” he shifted into mimic, “cause Mommy’s kitty died and she is sad.”

“That’s all she wanted?”

“Gee, that’s what I asked too.” Nora motioned toward the teapot and Christi nodded. While her mother poured the tea, Christi absently rubbed the paint spot on her cheek.

“There are three cats for adoption right now. I like the gold one, she loves to be held, the other two would rather rough house.”

“You think it would still be there until after school?”

“I’ll call Shawna and tell her to hold it for you. Are you sure you want to do this? What happens if she doesn’t really want it?”

“Can anyone turn down one of Santa’s elves?”

“You’d go in costume?”

“Why not?”

“I could paint you a card.”

“Would you?”

“Sure, have one started. All I need to do is change the color of the cat. Luckily I made it white like Bushy here.” She rubbed her cheek on the cat’s fluffy head. “How long until we decorate the tree?”

“Give me five minutes.”

“Okay, you two start on the lights and I’ll finish the card. You want me to sign it for you?” Christi had taken classes in calligraphy and taught her mother how to sign all the Christmas cards in perfect script.

“You know, you’re all right for a girl.” Charlie bounded up the stairs to his room where all his herpetological friends lived. Arnold, a three foot Rosie Boa who should have been named Houdini, was his favorite.

Nora handed Christi her mug of tea. “Take a brownie with you.”

“Thanks Mom. You heard from Dad yet?”

“No.” Nora knew her answer was a bit clipped.

“Something must be wrong.” Christi’s eyes darkened in concern. “Did you call him?”

“I tried, cell went right to voicemail.”

“So, he was on it?”

“Or he let the battery run out.” As efficient as Gordon was, you’d think he could remember to plug his phone into the charger. The two women of the family shared an eye rolling.

“He’ll call.”

“Unless he’s broken down someplace.”

“You always tell me not to worry.”

“Well, advising and doing are two different things.” Nora set her cup and saucer in the dishwasher. “Want to help me unroll the lights?”

“I was going up to finish that card.”

Nora checked her watch. “Ten minutes?”

“Done.” Christi scooped Bushy up off the counter where he’d flopped and headed up the stairs, not leaping like her brother, but lithe and regal, the residuals of her years of ballet and modern dance.

Nora and Betsy headed for the living room but when the phone rang did an about face and a near dive for the wall phone in the desk alcove. “Hello.”

“Nora, I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“There you did it again.” She tried to sound harsh but relief turned her to quivering Jell-O.

“What?”

“Apologize. Now I can’t be mad at you.” His chuckle reminded her of how much she missed him when he was gone.

“Art and I got to talking and I didn’t realize the time passing. I had to get some sleep. Is the tree up yet?”

“What, are you trying to outwait me?”

“What ever gave you that idea?” He coughed to clear his throat.

“You okay?”

“Just a tickle. Look, I should be on my way home this afternoon. I’ve got to wrap this thing up but I told them the deadline is noon and I’m heading for the airport at three, come he-heaven or high water.”

“Well, don’t worry about the tree.” She slipped into suffering servant to make him laugh again. “The kids and I’ll get that done tonight.” It worked. His chuckle always made her smile back, even when he couldn’t see her.

“They have school tomorrow right?”

“Right. Last day so there’ll be parties. I have goodie trays all ready to take.”

“You made Julekaka for the teachers again?”

Nora chuckled. “Gotta keep my place as favorite mother of high school students.”

“Is that Dad?” Charlie called from the stairs. “Tell him to hurry home. I have to…” The rest of his words were lost in his rush.

“Charlie says to hurry home.”

“I heard him. Give them both hugs from me. Mrs. Buchwalter is glaring me daggers.”

“Do you need a ride from the airport?”

“No, I’ll take a cab. I love you.”

“You better.” She hung up on both their chuckles. How come just hearing his voice upped the wattage on the lights? And after twenty-two years of marriage. As people so often told them, they were indeed the lucky ones. “Please Lord, take good care of him,” she whispered as she blew him a silent kiss. She joined Charlie in the living room where a Blue Spruce graced the bay window overlooking the front yard where she and Gordon had festooned tiny white lights on the naked branches of the maple that burst into fiery color in the fall and the privet hedge that bordered the drive. Lights in icicle mode graced the front eaves while two tall white candles guarded the front steps. She’d filled pots with holly up the flagstone stairs and hung a swag of pine boughs, red balls, and a huge gold mesh bow on the door.

“Here.” Charlie handed her the reel of tiny white lights and pulled on the end to plug it in.

“I already checked them all this afternoon. Just start at the top of the tree.”

They had a third of the lights on the eight foot tree when Christi joined them, setting the finished card on the mantel to dry. “I didn’t put it in the envelope yet, so don’t forget this in the morning, or you are coming home before going over there. Shawna said she’ll put your name on the golden cat. She’s already been fixed so she is ready for her new home.” Christi picked up another reel of light strings. “You need to put them closer together.”

“Yeah right, Miss Queen Bee has spoken,” Charlie mumbled from behind the tree.

“You don’t have to get huffy.”

“You don’t have to be bossy.”

“All right, let’s just get the lights on.” All they had to do was get through this drudgery part and then all would be well. Gordon always tried to skimp on the lights too. Like father like son. Silence reigned as they wound the lights around the tree branches, punctuated only by a “hand me another reel, please” and “ouch” when a spruce needle dug into the tender spot under the nail. Nora sucked on her finger for a moment to ease the stinging. Inhaling the intoxicating spruce scent brought back memories of the last years and made her grateful again for all the joys they’d had. One more thing to miss tonight, the rehash she and Gordon always did post tree trimming and when the children had gone to bed, like Monday morning quarterbacking, only with more smiles and laughter. Much of the laughter came because of Charlie’s clowning around.

“What if she doesn’t like the cat?” Charlie asked.

“Then we’ll take it back.” Christi said matter of factly.

“By back, I’m sure you mean to the Humane Society. Bushy would not like another cat around here.” Nora’s hands stilled. This she needed to clarify.

“Of course, Mom.”

Nora looked up in time to catch a head shake from her daughter and one of the “I’m trying to be patient” looks Christi was so good at. Why was it so quiet? “Oh, I forgot to put the music on. Messiah all right?”

When both the twins shrugged, she knew they’d rather have something else but were giving her the choice. She crossed to the sound system, hit the number three button and waited a moment for Mariah Carey’s voice to flow out. She’d play the Messiah after they went to bed. They’d all attended the Sing Alone Messiah concert the second weekend in December. At least Gordon had been home for that tradition.

A bit later they all three stepped back with matching sighs.

“All right, throw the switch.” She looked at Charlie who had taken over that job years earlier. This certainly was a night for memories. When the tree sprang to light, they swapped grins and nods. The ornaments were the easy part.

By unspoken agreement, the ornaments they’d bought one each year on their annual family shopping trip and dinner out tradition, they hung higher in the tree to keep away from batting cat’s paws and a dog’s wagging tail. While the twins snorted at her sentimentality, she hung the ornaments they’d made through the years, some like the Santa face with a cotton ball beard, beginning to look more than a bit scruffy, but dear nevertheless. The ornaments their Tante Karen had given them through the years on their Christmas presents brought up memories and set the two to recalling each year and what their interest had been then.