Unburying Hope (43 page)

“But we’re here now, we’re living in Eden,”
Celeste said, bending towards his head, kissing his skin and dented skull.
 
“We’ll find someone who can help, have
a shrink come to the house if you don’t want anyone to know.
 
I’ll,” she paused, “Rosalinda and I
will keep things stable.
 
We’ll let
the cops clear the meth dealers out and then we’ll build up the store in the
next few months.
 
We’ll take time
together, stay in our safe place, garden like you like to, putting in
plants.
 
We can live off my savings
for a year or two,” she said, noting the rising hope in his eyes.
 
“Rosalinda’s going to recover, they
said this will be a forgotten memory in a few months.
 
They did an MRI.
 
Eddie, your kid deserves to have you live, like that kid deserved to
have his father live.
 
“You HAVE to
live,” she said, “to undo the cycle of dying.”

“Is she okay?”
 
He summoned all his strength to reach for her arms, pulling
at her.

“I think so.
 
They had to see if she had brain inflammation but I think
she’s okay.
 
She’s got stitches,
right above her ear.
 
She can’t
play for a couple of weeks, but she’s a strong little girl.
 
We don’t have health insurance for her,
do we?
 
I bet this hospital bill is
going to break us,” Celeste said, suddenly worried about the bill they’d be faced
with after the she was released.

“Celeste,” he said, his voice vehement enough
to shake her out of her dream.

“Yes?”

“I need you to unbury some things.”
 
He looked right to left, as though there
were enemies behind the curtains.

“Dig something up?”
 
Her lip curled, the word burying reminded her of
cemeteries.
 

“I’ve been burying dough.
 
It’s where we’ve been putting in the hydrangeas.”

“Where you discovered the kim chee?”
 
She found herself wondering about
earthenware jars of pickled cabbage, as though the acidic food could burn away
the solidity of sorrow that lingered in her heart.

“No, we didn’t really find any kim chee, I
just pretended I did because I knew that then no one would dig up the hydrangeas.
 
They’d be afraid of hitting the
unburied pots.”
 
He looked at her
with an earnest expression.
 

“You what?”
 
Celeste shook her head in disbelief.
 
“What money?”

“I told you I don’t trust banks.
 
They’ve sold out the world.
 
And, I’m sorry.
 
I was selling meth in Detroit.”
 

She felt her stomach clench.
 
Frank had been right.

“Not here.
 
I came here to get clean.
 
It’s the universe’s twisted payback that the store is an old
meth lab.
 
But I hired a couple of
the guys to do little jobs and I showed them that it’s clean now, and it’s
going to stay clean.
 
They’ve moved
on to Hana, to a house they operate out of there.”

Celeste looked at him, understanding now the
shop’s logo paint job on the front window.

“I need you to believe me.
 
We’re here for a clean slate, you and
me.
 
And Rosalinda.”
 

“The cops want to see my bank account, to see
how I paid for Rosalinda’s school bill,” she whispered, “I can’t put any cash
into my account, they’ll wonder where it came from.”

His face froze, “What do you mean they want to
see your bank account?”

She told him about the run in with Shinoda and
Komoko at the shop and he stared intently at the curtain behind her head.
 

“I think they’re bluffing.”

“Well, so far, I’m clean.”
 
Celeste wrung her hands.
 
“I’d like to stay that way,” she said
sheepishly, “for Rosalinda’s sake.
 
That way she can stay in her school.”

“God, I love you.
 
I’ll never be able to thank you for being kind to her.”
 

She saw tears in his eyes.
 
“It’s nothing,” she waved him off.
 
“Makes me miss my mom less.
 
She’s always doing things that remind
me of how happy I was when I was her age.
 
I think I don’t suck as much as I thought I would, taking care of a kid.”

“You’re an angel,” he spoke so quietly that
she had to lean in close to his lips.
 
“But you walk around the property, find the new hydrangeas and remember
where they are.
 
I buried about
fifty grand under each hydrangea.”

She stumbled, trying to stand up.
 
“Where the fuck did you get that kind
of money?” she gasped.

“When I got back from my final deployment,
after a month of hiding in a dark motel room, I put my nose to the grindstone
and sold as much meth as I could so I could start a new life.”
 
He closed his eyes.
 
“It was before I met you.”

“Your walkabouts?”

“No.
 
I was done by then.
 
I left
you because I had to get clean.
 
I’d go walking until I could find a place where I could sleep unseen, in
abandoned buildings.
 
I felt at
home in them.
 
I’d get the shakes
and sleep under chairs or desks that had been left behind.
 
No one ever went into the buildings but
me, I think, because they were forgotten.
  
I could detox, like in a limbo.
 
I’d lay down and let the shit sweat
itself out of me, I’d let the images come too.
 
I figured I’d detox from the drugs and the war, in those
decrepit places.”

She nodded.

“And, Celeste?”

“Yes?”

“I always went out of my way to find buildings
that had been tagged.
 
When I had
no hope, I went into the buildings that someone had painted with the word
‘HOPE’.
 
First, I’d walk around it,
reading each letter out loud to myself.
 
Then I’d go in and crumple down, letting it sink in that someone else in
the City cared.”

Tears welled up in Celeste’s eyes.

“When I found the stencils in your closet,
when you were so wounded by that meth explosion, my heart kind of got cauterized,
all the sad and bad shit got cleaned out.
 
I had hope again.
 
That’s
why we’re here.
 
That’s why I’m
committed to you.”

“Then why are there cops here?”
 
Her voice cracked with sorrow.

“It’s not what you think, babe.”

“Then how did you get so much money?”
 
She found herself touching his face,
gently.
 

He turned and kissed her fingertips.
 
“I touched off a drug war.”
 
He kissed the palm of her hand, taking
it into his own.

Celeste’s eyes widened.
  

“One dealer beheaded another in that old opera
house.
 
And I think the other one
was killed by someone in the gang.
 
Remember when Frank was telling us that, in that bar?”
 

She remembered the irony of death on an opera
stage, and Frank’s sorrow that they’d defiled the theater in which he’d watched
so many Saturday afternoon matinees with his father.

“Those two guys killed each other, a drug lord
and a dealer,” he said.
 

She saw a slight twinkle in his eye.

“But that was after I’d already been there and
another couple of guys had killed each other.
 
I came in, I cleaned out the backpacks they each had with
them, it was nearly two million dollars.
 
Their gangs think each other stole the money, they came in and cleared
out the first five bodies, then the last two guys fought to the death.
 
They’ve pretty much killed each other
off by now trying to find the money.
  
But they don’t know I exist.”

“You’ve got gang money?”

“Nah, I gave most of it away.
 
I’ve got about five hundred thousand
dollars.
 
I gave fifty grand to
every homeless shelter I could find that had my brother vets in them, I found
churches that had hot lunches, I spread it far and wide.”

“Is anyone going to come after us?” she asked
fearfully.

“Nope.”
 
He smiled.
 
“I told the
Kihei cops about it.
 
They think
I’m Robin Fucking Hood.
 
They’re
wondering if I can be that creative here.
 
Without killing anyone, that is.
 
They say I’d have to make it non-lethal.”
 
His smile was taut.
 
“I told them I’m gifted.
 
The government trained me, I might as well put that training to good
use.”
 

“I don’t want you in a drug war,” Celeste
cried out.
 
“I need you.
 
We need you.”

“Aw, you love me.”
 
Eddie put his hands on her face, stroking her cheeks.

“Of course I do, dumbass.”
 

“Well, I’m retiring.
 
I love you.
 
But
the one and only thing that I’ve ever created that will stand for all time is
my daughter, and her chances for a future with us.
 
We will live a nice quiet life.
 
Rosalinda will go to school and grow up.
 
I’ll do anything in my power to help
you find your heart’s desire job.
 
We’ll have a successful shop.”
 
He held her hands.
 

“What’s going to happen to you now, with these
cops hanging around?”
 
Celeste
kissed him on the cheeks, worriedly.

“They’re going to take me away in their car,
I’m sure.”

“Why?
 
You just told me that you’re clean?”

“Things aren’t what they appear,
Celeste.”
 
He met her lips as she
came close to his, kissing her with a sincerity that she absorbed, with the
pressure of a passion they hadn’t shared for days.

The two police officers knocked on the
doorjamb, walking quietly into the darkened room.
 
“It’s almost sunrise,” one of them said, tapping at the
window.
 
“Gotta go.
 
Leave your daughter with your wife.”

Eddie looked at Celeste, pointedly, shocked at
the ease with which the cop mistook her for Rosalinda’s mother, fear in his
eyes that Celeste would betray the truth and put Rosalinda into danger.

“Where are you going?” Celeste asked.
 

The tall officer that had spoken with her in
the hallway turned to her and said, “We’re taking him in.”

“Why?” she asked, trying not to betray the
panic in her voice.

“Celeste,” Eddie said, his voice still raspy,
“take care of our baby girl first.
 
I’ll be fine.
 
I’ll see you
later.”

She sucked in a deep breath, straightened her
spine and raised her shoulders, clearing her throat.
 
“Okay.
 
I’ll see
you in a little while.”

“Alright.”
 
How would she tell Rosalinda about her father’s police
escorts, his impending jail stint?
 
She had no answers.
  

She watched Eddie lean over to gently kiss
Rosalinda’s cheeks and her forehead, then watched them walk him out of the
room, their hands resting on his shoulders, steering him through the doorway.

She followed them silently out into the
hallway, seeing them veer towards a door to a stairwell.
 

For some reason, they didn’t act like he was
really in custody, she thought.
 
She walked back into the room and looked out the window, waiting until
they exited from the Emergency Room doors below.
 

Eddie was walking between them, cuffed.
 
They made their way to a parked
unmarked police car and, in a quick move, one of the cops undid his handcuffs,
slapped him on the back and opened the back passenger door for him.

Eddie lowered himself into the seat, the cops
got into the front seats and the car drove away.

Chapter
Forty-Seven

The shovel was heavy in her hands.

The hydrangea by the shed looked newly
planted, she thought.
 
She reached
down below the lower leaves, pushing aside the woody branches.
 
The ground was covered with a chunky
mulch that was easy to sweep aside.