Chapter 42
“Come on, Mike.
Let’s get out of here.” Cyndi interrupted him as him was about to sink his fork
into a piece of pumpkin pie, probably his third. “Let’s get this hospital visit
over with and then go on home.”
He tried to turn
her down. “I haven’t even had my pie yet,” he said. “And besides, there are
several other people I want to talk to.”
He turned back to
the group of guys was with, most of them homeless, most of them regulars. They
shared stories of past Christmases like a bunch of cronies at a pool hall.
“Most people just
come down and help us on Christmas on Thanksgiving, but you folks is different.
Every Tuesday and Thursday, winter and summer, you’ve been here for us and we
appreciate it. We surely do.”
Mike beamed, pleased
to be acknowledged a little by the look on his face.
The women
chattered on, but Cyndi was done. “I’ll be in the car,” she said. “Bring Zach
when you’re ready.”
Se sat in the
passenger’s seat, the windows fogging her into an opaque capsule. How dare Joe
talk to her like that after all she’d done for him? From the moment she met
him, she’d been giving—first the hat and scarf, then food, shelter, a job, and
now forgiveness and a get out jail free card. She didn’t ask much. Just a
little acknowledgment, maybe the word thanks.
Mike pulled up on
the handle of the driver’s side door. “Spill it. What’s going on?” he said.
“Do you think I’m
a jerk?”
“Of course not.
You’re a wonderful person.”
Cyndi wished she
could take his opinion to heart, but his conflicted with others’. “That’s not
the word on the streets. He called me a jerk. What gives him the right to say
I’m wrong? I was just saying that the timing of Spencer Ridley’s illness seemed
too coincidental to be a coincidence. I know they were standing up for what
they believed in, but they were standing against God. But just because you’re sincere
doesn’t mean you’re okay. There are a lot of sincerely deluded people out there
and they’re all going to hell in a hand basket.”
“Wow, Hon, I’ve
got to admit—you do come off as a jerk when you talk like that. You don’t
honestly believe Spencer Ridley’s in a coma because he was suing us? If that’s
the way God works, we’d better cover our heads against the next lightning
strike. God doesn’t mete out illnesses as punishment, no more than he gives
Christmas bonuses to all the good little boys and girls.”
“Sometimes it
feels that way.”
Mike stroked her
cheek. “I know it does, sweetheart, but Spencer Ridley no more caused his
illness than we caused Sammy’s. It’s not a cause and effect world.”
“Zach’s coming,”
Cyndi said.
Mike flashed the
headlights to signal for the boy to come over. “Let’s drop this for now,” he
said. “Zach has enough on his mind without people suggesting his family caused
its own suffering.”
Zach tried the
handle, then tapped on the back door window. His mouth moved and he pointed to the
lock.
“Don’t worry. I’ll
keep it myself.” Cyndi pushed the unlock button and little black posts jumped
up with a soft cachunk.
Once Zach was
tucked behind his seatbelt, they headed for the hospital.
Cyndi usually
didn’t like silence when they drove, but today she didn’t feel like striking up
conversation. Even with the trial over, life was still complicated. And her
feelings were still bruised. In the hospital parking lot, she exaggerated the
slam of her car door and she set her feet down a little harder than necessary.
Mike held her back
behind Zach as they crossed the pavement to the front door.
“What do you think
you’re doing?” He hissed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’d
better change your attitude right now. We are here for Zach and we will support
him. I will not see this boy crushed. If you can’t be civil, then don’t even
walk though the front door.”
Mike didn’t boss
her very often, but when he did, she knew she needed to listen.
“You go in with
Zach, I be right there,” she said. She needed to give herself a minute to
compose herself. The guys walked ahead of her and she wandered down the first
floor corridor to the hospital chapel.
“God, get me
through this,” she breathed before opening the chapel door. She knew what she’d
find there. How many nights had she spent praying for a miracle for Sammy—a
miracle God never performed? “Are you here?” she asked the empty room. She ran
her hand along the smooth wood of the back bench and slowly walked up the aisle
to the prayer rail. As she bent to her knees, she thought of the thousands of
others who had knelt here before, wondered how many of those prayers God had
answered.
“I don’t know why
you took her,” she whispered. “and I guess I never will. But I’ve got some
other stuff to ask for. Help my love for Zach translate to care for his
parents. I can’t imagine loving them, but help me not hate them so much. Amen.”
She stood and
walked to the chapel exit, turned back and looked at the cross on the front
wall, and added, “And God, if you’re up there, bring our Clark back to us.”
Cyndi walked back
to the elevator. She knew this hospital well. She navigated a maze of hallways
to the wing just outside ICU where prolonged cared took place. Through the
Venetian blinds, she watched Zach hug his mom and motion to her that there was
someone in the hall. While she stood outside Spencer’s room, Mike joined her
and they waited together until Zach came to the door to invite them in.
Cyndi extended her
hand as she approached the thin, bedraggled woman who barely resembled the
Allie she remembered from not too many days before. “Allie, I don’t know if
you’ve officially met my husband Mike.”
She did look
horrible, nothing like the primped and coiffed beauty from the other side of the
courtroom. “Hi, Mike. I’m Zach’s mom. But you know that.”
Zach. Safe
territory.
“He’s been a
terrific help this year. I’m sure you’re very proud of him.” Cyndi’s
conversation did not come easily.
Neither did
Allie’s forced smile. Cyndi imagined she hadn’t smiled much lately. She glanced
over at Spencer, lifeless on the bed, surrounded by blipping machines.
“We just came by
to see if there’s anything we can do for you,” Mike said.
“There is
something,” Allie said, “but I don’t know how to tell you.”
“It’s okay,” Cyndi
said, hoping it was indeed okay. “You can tell us.”
“It’s…” Allie
stared at the floor. She pressed her hands between her knees, then wiped them
on her jeans. Whatever favor she was about to ask would be a huge one.
“I, um… It’s my
fault.”
Even a few minutes
ago, Cyndi would have agreed, but Mike had reminded her that bad things happen
sometimes. “No, no. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Zach said it’s something
hereditary. Something in the pancreas or spleen?” Cyndi’s words rang hollow,
even to herself.
“Pancreas,” Zach
said. He sat in a lounge chair directly under the TV and apart from the
triangle of adults next to the bed.
“No, not that,”
Allie said. “I know that’s not my fault. I mean the tents. It was me. I mean, I
slashed the tents.”
Cyndi felt the
blood drain from her face. Did she hear right? Of all the people—She should
have known. But how—? Why—?
“I can’t stop
thinking about it. I thought it would make everything all right. I can see now
it was craziness.” The words poured from her, as if the pressure of a million
pent-up thoughts could no longer be contained once the first and hardest ones
were out. Most of them didn’t register. Surely she wasn’t trying to justify
this heinous act. “If only I could get Spencer to slow down and see. If I could
get Zach to spend more time at home and not so much with all those bums and
religious… well, you know. But, of course it didn’t work and now Spencer is
gone and Zach is practically on his own.”
At the mention of
the teen’s name, Cyndi looked over at his chair, but Zach was gone, run away at
the first mention of his mother’s guilt, no doubt. She wanted to run away with
him.
Mike spoke in a
comforting, controlled voice. He must be outraged, too, but he hid it well. “Do
you mind if we pray about this?”
“No, that’s it,”
Allie said, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. “I already did. I
prayed to God and I told him about everything I did and I didn’t get struck by
lightning or anything and I think maybe he wants to forgive me and I just can’t
believe that’s possible, but it must be possible or I wouldn’t feel that way,
would I?”
Cyndi knew she
should spew out the pat answer; that all sins are forgivable, that no one is so
bad he or she can’t be saved. But she held her answer in. There was something
very tempting about withholding a lifeline from this depraved woman.
Allie pressed on.
“I’ve cried so much lately. I know it’s weird to be asking you, but you’re the
only people I know who say they know God. Can he forgive me?”
Cyndi thought she
was going to hyperventilate. Mike leaned toward Allie and laid a comforting
hand on hers. Cyndi stood up and staggered out into the hall. She leaned over
the drinking fountain and pressed against its metal bar. A steam of tepid water
brushed against her lips but she did not drink. She needed time to think, to
sort through all the new information and emotions. Every fiber told her to
reject Allie’s cry for mercy and to prosecute her for the damage done. For
months, the woman had sought her downfall and now she wanted forgiveness?
Forgiveness?
Impossible.
Cyndi straightened
her back and released the water fountain bar. She paced down the hall and back
again. On her way past the waiting area, she caught a glimpse of Zach, leaned
over with his head between his knees. She should stop and talk to him, comfort
him, but couldn’t. What would she say? She had no comforting words to offer, no
answers, only questions.
At the end of the
hall, she turned around to take another lap, as if that would help. Mike stood
in Spencer’s doorway. She tried to step around him, tried to avoid his
inevitable rationality, but he grasped her arm and kept her from walking past.
“What are you
doing? You’re being rude.” He kept his voice low, presumably to not offend the
contrite monster.
Cyndi was not so
soft spoken. “Rude? You’re talking to me about rude? What about her? What has
she ever done except mock us, punish us, and put us down?” She twisted her body
enough to pull away from Mike’s grip. She stomped toward the elevator.
“She said she was
sorry,” he yelled at her back.
She couldn’t
ignore him.
“Sorry! Sorry just
fixes everything, doesn’t it?” Cyndi whipped around and stomped back. “All she
has to do is say she’d sorry and it all goes away. Is that it? So what if she
slashed the tents? So what if she’s done everything in her power to ruin my
life? If she’s sorry, that makes it
all better.” She let the sarcasm drip off each word. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. She
deserves punishment.”
“Now hold on,”
Mike said. “There’s a lot we need to discuss.
Discuss? What was
there to discuss? She had broken the law and felt bad about it. That’s great.
Remorse is great, but punishment, even better.”
A drink of water
would be good about now. Or maybe even a drive.
Allie stepped into
the doorway behind Mike, her eyes full of pain. Well, good. She should feel
pain. After all, it’s what she’d been dishing out for months. Cyndi couldn’t
look at her. She walked to the elevator and pushed the button. As she waited
for the doors to open, she could feel Allie’s stare, her pleading eyes boring
into her head. On second thought, she’d take the stairs.
By the time she
reached the covered main hospital entrance, Cyndi realized that she, Mike and
Zach had come in the same car. If she left, they’d be stranded. She thought
about going back to apologize, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She also
rejected the idea of sulking in the cafeteria, afraid that she might cool down
enough to admit Mike was right. But he wasn’t right on this one. Nothing he or
Allie or anyone could say or do would change her mind. The woman was a menace,
a destroyer—and dangerous.
Cyndi took her
keys in hand before crossing the dark parking lot. She found the car key and
stuck it between her fingers with the tip pointing out as a precaution against
would-be attackers. It was a silly habit she’d picked up in a self defense
class years ago and she’d always scoffed at the thought that the tip of a key
could actually hurt someone bent on taking down a woman her size. Tonight,
though, she had enough anger and adrenaline pumping through her to take on the
biggest threat. Lucky for any lurkers, she made it safely to her car.
Once inside, she
fidgeted with the controls while she waited for the defroster to kick in.
Despite the freezing cold, Cyndi’s face burned hot with righteous indignation. She
peeled out of the parking lot, heading to the only place she felt at
home—straight back to Home Fires.
Joe was wiping
down the last of the tables when Cyndi burst in through the door of the dining
hall. She stormed past him to her little office without acknowledging him. He
could stay or go, she didn’t care.
Apparently he
decided to stay. After a few minutes, he tapped on her door. “You all right?”
he asked.
“It’s been a rough
night,” Cyndi admitted.
“No fooling?” Joe
sat down in the second chair. “I’m not much good at comfort, but I’ll give it a
try. What’s up?”
“People are hard
to love. Or even like. I thought we were good together, like family. Only you
don’t seem to want a family and I can’t seem to hang onto one.”
“Love hurts, you
know,” Joe said. “It’ll rip your heart right out if you let it. I’ve been
scared of that kind of hurt for a long time. But I’ve got to feel a bit of it
lately. This place gets under your skin, you people do, too.”
“I thought I was
being—“
“A jerk? Yeah. You
were, but that’s what family does is stick together even when not everybody is
lovable.”
Cyndi let a small
smile sneak across her face. “Thanks, Joe,” she said. “That means a lot. By the
way, someone else confessed to your crime. You’re off the hook. We’ll have to
go down to the station tomorrow to work things out.”
“They found him,
huh? I’ll be.”
“So I guess I owe
you an apology. Now I have someone else to be angry at.”
“Who?”
“Zach’s mom. She
did it.”
“The protest
lady?”
Cyndi was
surprised. “You knew that was his mom?”
“He talked about
her.”
Everything was
inside out and backwards. People were forging relationships she had nothing to
do with. And lives were so intertwined. “I feel like I’m being tumbled in a
dryer, like everything keeps getting mixed up. I’m angry at you, then I’m not.
I’m sorry for her and she stabs me in the back. I left Zach and Mike at the
hospital to deal with her. I couldn’t look at her face any more. Even now, I
feel like punching someone.”
Joe laughed. “I
guess that’d have to be me, but I don’t think you’d do much damage. I
understand your being upset with her, but don’t close the door on Zach. He’ll
need you more than ever now. He’s a good kid, just needs some direction. You
and Mike can give it to him if you can keep your cool and keep your feelings
for his folks out of the mix.”
“You’re probably
right. It’s going to take time, though.” Cyndi stood up and grabbed her keys
and coat. She had a couple of guys to pick up. To Joe, she said, “You can go on
home now, if you want.”
Joe chuckled.
“What home? If you hadn’t showed up, I was planning to pull a quilt off the
wall and curl up on one of the couches. These nights when the chill settles, I
can’t stand the thought of sleeping outside.”
“You can curl up
here if you want to,” Cyndi said. “But just for the night, then you’ll need to
find a more permanent solution.”
“Fair enough,” Joe
said. “I noticed you’ve got a pretty nice tent city set up over there. Think
they’ve got room for one more?”
Cyndi patted him
on the back. If he was willing to make concessions, maybe she should, too.
***
When she got back
to hospital, Cyndi tried calling Mike to tell him to meet her in the car. His
phone went straight to message, though. It must be off.
She reluctantly
climbed the stairs and walked toward Spencer’s room. She hoped to catch Mike’s
attention without having to face Allie again. But when she looked in the
window, she was surprised to find only Mike sitting by Spencer’s bed.
“Where’s Zach and
his mom?”
Mike looked up.
His eyes were swollen like he’d been crying. “They went home. Allie is going to
turn herself in and they wanted a few minutes alone together before they have
to face whatever comes next.”
“And you trust her
to actually call the police?”
He nodded. “Yeah.
I do.”
Cyndi took a deep
breath. She pulled a second chair up beside Spencer’s bed. Such a handsome man,
now reduced to a pile of flesh held together with life-giving machinery. It was
hard to hate someone who had fallen so far. She reached out tentatively and
placed her hand on his arm. She’d almost expected it to be cold, but it still
held the warmth of life.
“God help me,
Mike, I can’t live with all the hostility. I sustained it as long as I did
because they kept egging me on. But with him like this and Allie facing her
punishment, I just don’t think I can keep up the fight.”
Mike laid his hand
on top of hers and pulled it to his lap. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about
how we’ve been sidetracked from what’s important. The only fight I want to keep
up is to get Clark back.”
“Me, too.” Cyndi
leaned her forehead against Mike’s.
“Me, too.”
