Words Unspoken (26 page)
Lissa could think of nothing at all to say to that, but she had the oddest feeling that perhaps she was in the presence of someone important, another Polycarp, who had floated down from heaven on a cloud and landed right beside Lookout Mountain, inside an old blue Ford.
________
The afternoon sun slipped behind the mountains as dusk settled gently over the valley. Ev looked at his watch, surprised. “I’m afraid we’re running a bit late, Lissa.” He opened the door and went around Old Bessie.
“Oh, gosh!” She hurried out of the car, her thin face red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry I made you late.”
“It’s no problem,” he chuckled as they exchanged seats and he started the engine. “I like talking about history too, as you can tell.”
“Do you have another student waiting?”
“No. I’m done with the students today. Actually I’m visiting a rehabilitation center.”
“Really?”
“Yes, for accident victims. Para- and quadriplegics. Many of them very young.”
“Wow. That’s, that’s pretty heavy.”
“Yes, sometimes it’s very heavy.”
“Do you go there a lot?”
“As often as I can. A couple of times a month.”
Driving along Highway 27, they crossed out of Georgia and over into Tennessee, heading toward Chattanooga. Lissa seemed lost in thought.
“Is one of your former students there? I mean, do you go there because one of your students was in an accident—something that left him paralyzed?”
“No, Lissa, thankfully I’ve not had any students in that condition. No, I just go to encourage some of the kids, to help them see it isn’t the end.”
“It’s another vocation for you, isn’t it, Mr. MacAllister?”
“I guess so.”
She was smiling when he left her by the entrance to CGS. She looked frail yet resolved, a gleam of hope in her eyes, as though determined to try on life.
“I don’t know much,” Ev said, opening the door on the passenger side of the red Buick and motioning for Annie to climb in. “But I know when my girlfriend has something on her mind. Come with me to the center. It’ll do you good. Get your mind off our problems.”
Annie scowled. “Oh, quit being so smart, Mr. MacAllister.” When he leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, she relaxed slightly.
They left the town of Fort Oglethorpe on Battlefield Parkway, heading toward Ringgold. He turned the Buick onto a road a few miles west of I-75 and drove for a while, then made a right onto an old country road. At the end of the winding road sat a redbrick building surrounded by fields, with horses grazing and tall trees providing shade and, on this day, a vibrant canopy of color. A sign proclaimed
Good Shepherd Rehabilitation Center
.
Ev pulled the car into the parking lot beside several vans, the kind specially equipped for handicapped drivers. He cut the engine, got out of the car, went around, and opened the door for Annie.
The moment they walked into the building, Ev watched the tension leave his wife’s face. He spent a good bit of time at the center, playing a game of chess with one patient, helping another learn to drive the specialized cars. He enjoyed his afternoons there and applauded the courage and grit of the patients, many of them so very young.
When Annie had started accompanying him several years ago, she was never content to sit and chat or play cards. She was as determined as the patients themselves that they would make progress, and she became a stubborn and vocal cheerleader. Now he watched her bustle down the white corridors, knock on a door, and slip inside the room of a young woman who had been paralyzed in a boating accident. An hour later, he found her in the cafeteria, talking animatedly with a young man who was leaning on crutches. He smiled to himself.
As they walked back to the car, Annie said what she always did after a visit. “There are a lot of courageous kids in there. God bless ’em.”
Annie was silent on their ride back to Fort Oglethorpe. He knew she had a hundred thoughts and a thousand memories swirling in her mind behind the gray hair and the softly crinkled skin—the face he could stare at for hours. He’d been watching this woman for the better part of fifty years, and he still had not figured her out.
Parking at the house and stepping out of the Buick, he spoke. “You’re worrying about something. What’s on your mind?”
“You know good and well what’s on my mind, boyfriend. Same as what you’re thinking about right now.”
Ev placed his hands gently on his wife’s shoulders. “Look, Annie. We’re going to get through this time, just like all the others. With the Lord’s help. Trusting Him. He always comes through at just the right time.”
Annie squeezed his hand and nodded. “Life can get so complicated, can’t it?” Then she drifted off into another thought. “But it’ll be fine, as you say. I don’t want you to worry, Ev—let me do the worrying. You take care of your heart.”
“You don’t need to protect me, Annie. Doctors always exaggerate. They need our money.”
She frowned at him. “Stubborn old man.”
“Shall we?” He took both of her hands in his.
“Yes, of course.”
It was their habit; when one of them felt weighed down with life, the other initiated prayer. Together they took a seat on the porch swing.
Ev’s rich voice began. “Heavenly Father, Almighty God. We thank you for life. For the brave kids at Good Shepherd and for our girls too. Holy Father, our hearts ache for our children. For Katy Lynn, who is so close in distance and so very far away in her heart. For Gina, who is hurting. We want to help, we
could
help, Lord. But we cannot force our way back into their lives. And so we wait.
“And for Janelle, whose heart keeps breaking. Oh, Lord. Put people in her path to help her move forward, to help Brian and Janelle keep believing in your love and goodness. Be with Sandy and Luke.
“And, Lord, we give you the other things that seem so hard right now. Amen.”
________
When Ted Draper checked his sales numbers at the beginning of the day on Thursday, a self-satisfied grin spread across his face, like a thin line on his son’s Etch A Sketch. With the heavy trading of the last two days in Kaufman’s account, he was up over the 700,000-dollar mark in commissions. Things were looking up again for him, even if the Dow Jones was slipping slightly. Nothing to worry about. Savvy brokers knew all about these adjustments, the ups and downs, the bull and the bear. His obvious next step was a bit riskier, but necessary. It was the perfect time to do a little more aggressive trading for Dr. Kaufman. When the upswing came—which Ted predicted for the following week—Dr. Kaufman would be all the richer and Ted all the closer to the Million Dollar Club.
Options. That should work—even if it wasn’t exactly legal, since no option papers were on file for the doctor. Not exactly, but close enough. He reviewed again Dr. Kaufman’s blue chip companies. If the market didn’t stay down long, his best bet was buying call options on a number of stocks that the doctor already owned. No need to explain it all to Dr. Kaufman. When the market went back up, Kaufman and Ted would both make a lot of money. “Leverage,” they called it. This, Ted told himself, was a perfect scenario. So good, in fact, that Ted decided to buy options for himself as well.
Gambling.
Yes, and so what? He had made a reputation by gambling money. He had an uncanny way of reading the market. All the brokers said it. This was just another chance to prove it. He envisioned Lin Su smiling, his father slapping him on the back, his mother’s expression, relieved and proud.
Go, go, go! China, here we come. And don’t you dare look back, Ted. Don’t you dare!
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15
Katy Lynn made a quick collect call to the private investigator’s office at two p.m. on Thursday afternoon, French time. That meant eight a.m. in Atlanta, and she wanted to be sure that the PI was up and running. What he related in a confidential voice made Katy Lynn squirm. Every one of her suspicions about Hamilton was confirmed. After five minutes she said she’d heard enough and hung up. No need to completely ruin this vacation. Next she dialed the Lewises’ number. It was embarrassing to have to call collect, but she’d reimburse Ellen just as soon as she got back home. She’d kept a close count on her minutes. At least Janelle couldn’t accuse her of spending any of
their
francs on phone calls!
“Hey, Ellen! It’s Katy Lynn.” A pause. “Oh, yes. Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous. The weather is hot. Been to the beach three times. Divine.” She lowered her voice. “Listen, Ellen, I am so sorry for these collect calls, but my sister and brother-in-law are on a tight budget right now. I’ll pay you back just as soon as I’m home.” Another pause. “Well, that’s certainly sweet of you. Is Gina there?”
For the third time in three days, Ellen gave her the same answer.
“No, she and Caroline had some early meeting today. But she’s doing great. No trouble at all. I’ll be sure to tell her you called. Now you just keep on enjoying the beach, Katy Lynn. We’re fine here.”
Katy Lynn hung up the phone and felt a stab of self-pity.
I am all alone in life! Gina has no idea what I’m going through. She can’t be burdened with any of my problems. Not Hamilton, not finances, not all the unknowns of the future.
For a split second, Katy Lynn wished she could spill out the whole mess to Brian, who seemed to have good advice. If only he didn’t have to throw in religion with every other breath.
She realized that her hands were shaking ever so slightly. She needed a cigarette. No, what she needed was a shoulder to cry on, a sister who would take her in her arms and tell her that it was going to be okay, after Katy Lynn had spit out the whole ugly truth.
Well, that is not going to happen, girl. Quit dreaming. Just keep up the charade. Keep it up.
________
The ever-present sun had suddenly left Montpellier’s skies, and the day felt humid, gray, dreary.
Never mind. I have to get to the beach.
So what if Brian had taken the car to Marseille for two days of meetings? Katy Lynn would get to that beach somehow, even if it meant riding on a bus. Reduced to public transportation! For heaven’s sake!
She waited over fifteen minutes at the stop and then, when the bus finally came in view and stopped and she was almost stepping on, she saw the number in the window: 12. She didn’t need bus number 12. She needed number 26. Another ten-minute wait. Finally it appeared, and she handed the driver a small rectangular ticket, given to her by Janelle. Baby sis was becoming positively extravagant with her money!
By the time the bus left the stop and headed out of Montpellier onto the beach road toward Carnon, Katy Lynn expected the sky to dump barrels of rain on them at any minute. It didn’t matter. She could not stay in the house one more second. She could not plaster a happy smile on her face after her call to the private investigator. She wanted to throw up.
The bus let her off at the roundabout, the Grand Trianon, and Katy Lynn stepped into the wind, drew her parka around her, ducked her head, and began to walk along the beach. The tears came immediately, hot and humiliating. How could he! How
could
he?
I wanted it to be a lie. I wanted to be wrong. I wanted him to be asking for a divorce because he was worried or tired or mad. I wanted it to be anything but this.
Proof, staring her right in the face. Hamilton and
her
. A blond secretary from the office who wore her sweaters so snug that Katy had wondered how the girl could breathe.
She could not bring herself to say it out loud, but in her heart that felt tight and squeezed, she admitted the truth. She loved him. She still loved him, no matter what he had done. She did not want to live alone in that big house on Habersham Road. Nor did she want to sell the house and move to some high-scale condominium for divorced women. She wanted her life back,
their
life, with parties and laughter and tickets to the symphony and meals at the club and easy money.
My life is splitting down the middle, just as my parents’ lives did.
That was the thought that struck her, suddenly, like a flash of lightning, on the trek down the beach. She laughed bitterly at the irony—she had run off, just as her mother had all those years ago, to escape the pain.
But would history repeat itself? No. Hamilton would not drop everything to get his wife and daughter back. Hamilton Pendleton was not Everett MacAllister.
He’d stopped loving her years ago, wrapped up in business deals and travel and who knew what else—perhaps the arms of other women, although she had never suspected it. With Hamilton’s attention cooling, Katy Lynn found that her whole reason for existence was heaped onto Gina. To ease the pain of the truth, she had simply transferred her crazy adoration from Hamilton to Gina.
When the skies opened and poured rain on Carnon and the grayblue Mediterranean Sea, Katy Lynn barely noticed. The rain fit. She just kept walking and remembering.
She was hurrying to keep up with her mother, who was lifting several
leather suitcases into a yellow cab. “Mommy, where are we going? When is Daddy coming? I want Daddy to come with us.”