A Promise to Remember (28 page)

Maybe she just needed to prove to herself that he really was
there.

When she arrived, the empty parking lot didn't surprise
her. It was Saturday, after all. The door was locked-as she'd
expected.

She knocked. Then again. The doors shook from the blows,
but still nothing.

Blair probably couldn't hear her from his upstairs office. She
pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed the direct line
to his desk. The call was transferred to voice mail.

Maybe he was working in the computer lab or the conference
room. She dialed the main number, and this time she could hear
the ring of the phone inside the door. Still no answer.

She walked down the outside steps and peered through the
bars of the underground parking garage. Empty.

The metal bars of the gate seemed to expand and shrink
in time with her pulse. She focused on deep breathing and
looked away. Think. Okay, they had been through this kind of
misunderstanding before, and she knew there had to be a logical explanation. Blair wouldn't lie to her.

She called his cell phone, anxious to hear the answer. He
picked up on the second ring. "Andie. Hi. I'm glad you called.
Listen, don't wait dinner on me, I'm plowing through the pile
on my desk. I don't think I'll be home until late."

"So you're still at work? At your office?"

"Of course at my office. Where else would I be?"

In the background, Andie heard a female voice purr, "Who's
that you're talking to?"

Blair quickly cut in. "I've got to get back to it." The phone
went dead.

Jake leaned forward in an effort to get the broom farther beneath his desk.

"How many times you gonna sweep that floor tonight?"

He jumped at the sound of Tony's voice behind him, causing
the broom handle to snap against the underside of his desk. It
jerked from his hands. "Ouch."

"Jeff's mom must be coming, huh?"

Jake picked up the broom and scowled. "I don't know what
you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. Every time you know she's coming, you clean
everything ten times and make a fresh pot of coffee. Last time you
even changed shirts. You can save that 'I don't know what you're
talking about' noise for some other sucker. I know better."

Jake leaned against his desk. The papers there suddenly
seemed to demand his full attention. "Get out of here. I've got
work to do." He leaned the broom against the wall and forced
himself to leave the pile of dust in the middle of the floor. He
flopped into his desk chair and stared at his antagonist, daring
him to say more.

Tony walked away from the door, but the sound of his laughter
lingered far behind him. Dane that kid! Only when he was certain
Tony was out of sight did Jake pick up the dustpan, sweep up
the mess, and take the broom out to its hook in the shop.

Before he made it back to his office, she arrived, looking
tired.

"Let's go back to my office. Do you want some coffee? I always
make a pot of decaf this time of the afternoon."

Unfortunately, since they were in the middle of the shop,
Tony witnessed their interchange. He had his back turned to
them, working on some engine part, but Jake could see his
shoulders heave and the redness of his ears. "Tony, why don't
you go clean up the back workshop?"

Tony's face was bright red when he turned around. He nodded but didn't respond. Jake knew he was holding his breath to
suppress laughter. He hoped the kid made it to the back room
before he passed out from lack of oxygen.

Melanie walked into the office and sat down. "You get a new
chair?" She leaned into the padded back and rubbed her hand
across the textured fabric.

"Nah, just had this one stuck back in a corner somewheredecided I'd pull it out." Thankful that Tony was out of earshot
for the second of his little fibs, Jake vowed to stick with the
truth from here on out. "Sarah tells me you're having some
trouble at work."

Melanie sighed and suddenly looked ten years older. "Yes.
They want me to transfer to a store in Orange County"

"Really? Do you want to go?"

"Can't. I'll have to try and find something else around here,
I suppose."

"Why? Maybe it would be good to make a clean start-for
you and Sarah, too. She'd make new friends. Your grief might
be less if you couldn't-"

Her head snapped in the direction of the door.

"Sorry. I don't mean to keep bringing that up. I just wish I
understood it more." The muscles in his legs tensed, prepared
to make chase.

The seconds ticked past as she continued to stare at the
door. Then she leaned back against the seat and folded her
arms. "I was abandoned." The words hung in the air, thick and raspy. She turned toward him, her eyebrows raised, waiting for
a response.

He felt his head fall forward, his eyebrows knit, but he
couldn't stop either. "Excuse me?"

She leaned toward him. "When I was two years old. I was
left on the front steps of the Tennessee Children's Home. They
never found out who my parents were."

He let her words tumble through his mind, hoping eventually
the spinning would stop and they would fall into an order that
made some sort of sense. Hoping he would have some words
of wisdom to make it seem okay. "Wow" It was the only thing
that came out.

The left side of her mouth twitched in wry humor. "Speechless? This is a first."

The lightness helped him regain his composure enough to ask
the next question. "As tragic as that is, I still don't understand
what it has to do with Jeff's grave."

Her jaw dropped, and she shook her head as if he were a
total nincompoop. "I will never, ever, abandon my kids. I want
Jeff to know I'm still here for him." She leaned back and folded
her arms. "Now you know. Happy?"

"Melanie, he's not abandoned. He's with God."

"So you say."

"It's true! Just let me tell-"

"Time for a change of subject." She pulled one knee up and
wrapped her hands around it. "I've told you my story, now let's
hear yours. You keep alluding to this past of yours, but I don't
see any evidence-except for the fact that I'd expect someone
like you to be married with kids."

"Well, I . . ." He shook his head. "It's a long story."

"Fair is fair. Let's hear it." There was no teasing in her eyes.
She was testing to see if he would be as open with her as she had
been with him. If he failed now, her time of trust was over.

"I was. Married ... I mean." He looked at her, then at his
hands. "Same as you, I guess-we were young and wild. I got
sent to Folsom for a few years. She cleaned up her act, met
someone else. She wanted a divorce and ..." Okay, we don't
need to go any fu ther with this stoi y.

"And what?"

He knew he needed to tell her the truth, but his throat had
gone so dry he didn't think he could speak.

"We all make mistakes in our lives. I've made some really
big ones."

"And what?"

"Custody."

"Kids? You have kids?" He watched her eyes dart toward his
desk, then the walls, looking for evidence. She wouldn't find
any. There was none to find.

"Yes. When I had over a year left to serve, I signed papers
authorizing their stepfather to adopt them. I knew I had messed
my life up in a big way and hoped maybe this new guy would be
better for them. It was before I learned about grace, forgiveness.
Before I could forgive myself."

She stood, her arms stiff at her side. "You abandoned your
own children?"

"I did what I thought was best for them."

Tears spilled from her eyes. "I can't believe I actually admired
you." She jerked her purse from the floor and stormed out the
door. She slammed it so hard behind her the entire garage
shook.

Jake buried his face in his hands. This time he had blown it
for good. God, why? Why would you keep bringing her around, just
to have me mess things up a little more every time I'm near her?

The heaviness of loss pressed against him with new weight.
He couldn't lift himself above it this time. He was sinking. God,
I can't do it anymore.

"Guess it didn't go so well, huh?" Tony stood smiling at the
door. He took one look at Jake's face and turned around. "I'll
just get back to cleaning the warehouse."

"You do that."

Melanie couldn't believe she had actually admired Jake. What
a fake. The man had abandoned his own children, just like her
parents had left her on the steps all those years ago.

She drove into the cemetery and parked in the usual spot.
As she walked toward Jeff, the view blurred through tears. She
sank down onto the ground beside her son's headstone. "How're
you doing, bud?"

She reached out her hand and touched the cold granite. "Oh,
Jeff. How I miss you. How I-" A sob worked its way up from
her heart and out her throat. She'd always made it a point not
to cry in front of him. This time, she couldn't stop herself.

"I'm sorry, Jeff." The tears continued, blurring her vision into
a blob of green that might just have easily been a meadow on
a spring day. But that's not where she was. She sniffled. "I'm
weak, Jeff-always have been, if you want to know the truth.
I tried to hide that from you in your life, and even since your
death. But you might as well know it now. Your mother is a
weakling and a coward."

She wiped her eyes, but the tears continued to pour. "Don't
worry, though. I'm still working for you. I'm taking this thing into
court to save the life of another child. You'd want that, wouldn't
you? To have your death work good for someone else?"

She traced the letters on the marker with her index finger.
JEFF J O H N S T O N. She looked at the dates-entirely too
close from the beginning year to the end. Her gaze wandered
farther down at the verse inscribed on the bottom. Although
she had seen it many times, she'd never thought much about the words. To her, it was simply Jeff's favorite verse and the way
he would want to be remembered. That our God may count you
Worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every
good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. 2
Thessalonians 1:11.

Every good purpose, every act prompted by your faith. "What
would those be for you, Jeff? Why would God, if there really is
a God, take you out of this world before you had a chance to
fulfill your purpose?"

She stood to her feet and stumbled back to her car. There
were no answers for her questions.

Andie drove away from Blair's office thinking of all the times he'd
berated her for questioning his absences due to "research," and
even the time he'd supposedly been shopping for her. Shopping.
She looked down at the bracelet on her wrist, and it suddenly
became clear exactly what it was. A guilt offering. She reached
down to rip it from her wrist.

She held the steering wheel with her elbows and began to
work the clasp. A teenage boy on a skateboard darted in front
of her. She jammed her foot against the brake and grabbed the
wheel with both hands. The scene slowly unfolded before her
as her car moved closer and closer to the oblivious boy. Her
tires squealed to a stop not six inches away from him. Only
then did he look at her, wires from hidden earbuds visible for
the first time.