A Time to Mend (32 page)

“Son, none of this is your fault. The house would have burned if you’d been there. We easily could have stayed too long if you’d been there. Hindsight, the back entrance to the gold mine was our only escape, which you would have thought of—maybe even before Lexi did—if you’d been there. But she got us there safely without you.”

“But I could have helped in other ways.”

“Yes, you could have. But it’s over, and we’re all fine. Just a little worse for the wear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Will you forgive me?”

“And me?” Indio entered the room and shut the door.

Max watched her walk over to his dad. She draped her arm over Ben’s shoulders. They looked at him expectantly. He intuited their drift.

“Guys,” he said, “we’ve been here before. You’re sorry for placing BJ on a pedestal and not me, even though, given our two characters, it was a perfectly natural thing for you to do. It’s over and done with. I told you years ago that I forgave you.”

Ben said, “This is a little different.” His smile was sad. “Blame it on foxhole epiphanies.”

“What’s that?”

“Sitting in a hole in the ground, wondering if fire and smoke would do us in.”

Or sitting at a lookout point, wondering if I would ever hold Claire again.

Ben went on. “The other night, we thought a lot about death. You know our faith. You know we don’t fear going to meet our Maker. But . . .” He threw a sidelong glance at Indio. “I deeply grieve how I’ve pushed you away.”

Max stared at his father, unsure he’d heard correctly.

“Son, you dragged us through a lot of manure over the years. You can’t lay all the blame for that at our feet. At some point you became responsible for your own choices. I forgive you. We forgive you. We hope you can forgive yourself. And I . . . I hope you can forgive me, because your choices were rooted in the way I treated you.”

His mother wiped at the corner of her eye. “And in the way I treated you. I am sorry.”

Max’s throat closed up.

Indio said, “Yes, you told us years ago that you forgave us. But, well, it’s been obvious you haven’t. We don’t hold that against you. It’s for your own sake we hope you can truly forgive us.”

Their words resonated within him. It was all true. They’d admitted they were wrong in how they’d treated him, how they compared him to BJ, how they expected more from him than he could deliver. He’d glibly offered forgiveness and then, for twenty-five years, abused their confession. He took it as vindication for his own behavior. He was above reproach. He was righteous. He didn’t need them.

He’d been such a fool.

“Oh God, help me.” His voice broke.

Ben nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

M
ax sat alone on the patio, in the dark. No stars shone; the strange, smoky cloud cover still blanketed the sky. Oddly, it did not matter. For the first time he was seeing his own version of starlight.

He had been in the dark forever, his mind filled with a smoky gray blanket that obstructed his view of reality. Now, after unprecedented tears and a true heart connection with his parents, it was lifting. He could see life as it was, not as how he imagined it to be.

He had held life at arm’s length. Feelings did not exist because he never peered close enough to see them. In truth, the emotion that fueled his life was fear. He feared losing Claire, his children, his business. He feared the pain that always accompanied the mention of BJ. He feared being a disappointment to his parents. By living out of his fears, he had let everyone down, himself included.

The fire had thrown all this in his face, forcing him to acknowledge it . . . for a brief period. But with everyone’s physical safety had come a release from that pressure. No need to address it—they could all happily revert to the status quo.

But no one had cooperated with him. One look at Claire and he knew there was no going back. One look at the kids and he knew the fire was not the only thing that haunted them. One conversation with his parents and he knew they weren’t about to let go of him.

As his mom and dad freely admitted their faults, Max began to admit his own. As they told him again about God’s unconditional love and forgiveness, he began to hear them as if for the first time.

And something broke. It hurt. It physically hurt inside his chest. His mother said it was the cracking of the defenses he’d built up around his heart, an icy hardness that feelings could not penetrate.

Well, they were penetrating now.

He fell to his knees and let them come. Fear, anger, remorse, hatred, pain, frustration, pride, doubt. Sobs erupted from deep inside his belly as he regretted every single incident he could recall.

After a time, other feelings came. Love, forgiveness, hope. Faster and faster they came now, engulfing the ugliness. Tears that stung like fiery darts softened to warm, liquid pools that cleansed inside and out.

His knees ached. He smiled at the realization. He was going to be okay.

“Thank You, Lord. Thank You.”

L
ate that night, Max slipped quietly into bed, keeping a large space between himself and Claire. She was in the same fetal position he’d left her in hours before.

He felt horrendously drained in every way.

“I feel, hon,” he whispered to her back. “How about that?”

It wasn’t what he would call an enjoyable situation. He would give anything to retreat into his comfy, icy shell again.

Almost anything.

After asking God for help, crying with his parents, extending and receiving forgiveness, there was a hint of—corny as it sounded—sunlight in his soul.

He wasn’t so sure he’d trade that in.

Seventy-six

M
ax awoke to his cell phone’s ring. The tune indicated the call came from Neva. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed it. The clock read seven ten.

“Morning.”

“Yo, boss.”

Beside him, Claire stirred.

Neva asked, “Are you awake?”

“No.”

“Okey dokey. Call. Soon. It’s a zoo here already. Bye.”

“Bye.” He folded shut the phone. “Sorry, hon.”

“She couldn’t wait at least until eight?” Claire had recognized Neva’s personal ring.

Max exhaled carefully and pushed himself up to a sitting position. “There’s a lot going on in the wake of the fire.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Her face half hidden in the comforter, he couldn’t make out her expression. The unusual dusky morning light didn’t help. “How are you?”

No sound from her.

“Go back to sleep if you need to.”

“Please don’t tell me what to do.”

Max shut his eyes. It was obvious how she was. Angry.

He thought about the sweet time with his parents the previous night. They’d communicated as never before in his lifetime. Confessions of wrong attitudes. A clearing of the air. A meeting of minds and hearts. True forgiveness, given and received. Sunlight in his soul.

“Claire, please forgive me for not being there for you through the years. Please give me a chance to make it all up to you.”

“I don’t need another piece of jewelry.”

“I’m not talking about things. I mean I want to be there for you, always, in every way you need.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“What? When?”

“When do you think? Your daughter and your parents and your wife were almost killed on Monday night. That would be the ‘when.’”

He really wanted a cup of coffee. “I honestly thought you were fine. According to the news, you all were fine.”

“Did you ever think that even if the fire didn’t come our way, we weren’t fine? Your parents are old, and—in case you haven’t noticed—I’ve been a basket case since July.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What on God’s green earth was so important Monday night that you couldn’t take a couple hours to run up there? Football? . . . Oh.” She inhaled sharply. “Were you with her?”

He went still.

He sensed Claire become even more still.

At last he said, “It wasn’t like that—”

“I moved out. I left you.” She threw the covers back and swung her feet to the floor. “In some circles, I guess that gives you permission to see other women. I can’t stay here.” Without a backward glance she hurried toward the bathroom.

So much for sunlight in his soul.

M
ax avoided eye contact with Claire in the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult given that the television blared and seven other people were fixing themselves breakfast. He made small talk and ate whatever his kids offered. An omelet, a bagel, and fruit made their way to his plate.

Later, while shaving, he realized what a pathetic picture he made of tiptoeing around his wife. In the hopes of delaying her wrath, he behaved like someone ready for the loony bin.

His hand slipped, and the razor nicked his chin.

What was that about sunlight in his soul?

He stuck a Band-Aid on his face, dressed for work, and found Claire alone outside, sweeping the patio.

“Claire.”

“You’re going to the office.” Disbelief filled her voice.

“I have to. We can’t exactly shut down like the public school system.” Too late he heard his snappish tone and swallowed it. “There’s just a lot going on.”

She propped the broom against a chair and looked at him. “There’s a lot going on here, too, with your family.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing. That’s what I learned Monday night, anyway—to expect you to do nothing. Then I won’t be disappointed. We can take care of each other like we always have, without you here.”

“Why in the world do you think I go to work if it’s not to take care of my family?”

“That is not the point. I’m talking about things money can’t buy.” She stepped nearer him. “Max.” Her tone grew soft and yet self-assured. “I truly do respect and appreciate how you’ve been our provider. I always have. It’s one reason it was so easy to fill in where you couldn’t. Your plate was full. But listen. Your family is hurting today, and money won’t speak to that. Only your presence—constant and not in between phone conversations—will help.”

He stared at her, at the stranger she had become. It was her confidence now that scared him.

She said, “I lived through the worst night of my life without you. Now I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can live through anything without you.”

“Claire, I love you. I need you.”

She picked up the broom and resumed sweeping.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can possibly get away. We’ll talk then. Please, Claire. Okay?”

She looked up, gave him an odd smile, and pointed at her throat. “Hurts to talk much. Good-bye.”

Frustrated, he stomped through the house and into the garage, her words echoing in his head. As he pulled from their drive onto the main road, he heard the finality in how she’d said, “Good-bye.”

She easily could have said, “Have a nice life.”

At a stop sign he hesitated. Should he turn back? Could he be the kind of father and husband and son she wanted him to be?

Then he thought of the chaos at the office, of the loss of stature and revenue for his company if he didn’t take care of certain things only he could take care of.

Behind him a driver honked.

Max drove through the intersection, toward the freeway, toward Beaumont Staffing.

Seventy-seven

J
enna sat on a chair in her parents’ bedroom and watched her mother dig through a dresser drawer. “Mom, I can stay and help you.”

“No. Thanks. I’ll be fine. Nana and Papa will appreciate your help at the hacienda. I’m just not up for going there . . .” Her voice trailed off, and a dazed expression crossed her face.

Jenna’s stomach lurched at yet another sight of her mom falling apart. “Do you want to see a counselor or someone? You’ve been through a traumatic experience. It wouldn’t hurt Lexi, either, to talk with a professional.”

“Maybe. Later. Right now I just want to rest.”

“Then sit still, for goodness’ sake.”

Claire glanced up. Her face was gray and drawn. “I have no ID, no cell, no credit card, no car. I can’t even remember where I left my purse. House or car? I don’t know. Not that it matters where it burned, but isn’t that crazy?”

At the sound of hysteria in her mom’s voice, panic clutched at Jenna. “It doesn’t matter, Mom. You don’t need any of that stuff yet. We’ll take care of it later this week.”

“I— Oh, good. Here’s my passport. People use passports instead of driver’s licenses, right?” She pulled things from the drawer. “A Visa card. I can rent a car. Great. My old glasses. Not as cool as the Donna Karans—”

“Mom!”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

Claire shut the drawer, card in one hand, eyeglasses in the other, and sat on the bed. Her cheeks were bright pink now.

“Mom, Dad’s taking care of everything. Why won’t you let him?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Jenna, the traumatic experience didn’t change anything between us.”

“Oh my gosh! It did so! It changed him! You should have seen him, Mom. He sobbed like a baby that night.”

“Mm-hmm. So did I. He could have been there.”

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Not again. Still. I’m picking up where we left off. We’re sepa-rated. I’m finding my own voice. I’m finding my safe harbor.”

“That night changed things between me and Kevin. We’re each other’s safe harbor.”

“Honey, I know. I’m proud you did the hard thing and told him how it hurt you when he reenlisted. It’s what I should have done at your age.”

“I don’t want to go through life without him, even if he is sent overseas.”

Claire nodded. “I’m glad you’re back together and working things out. You’re becoming a team. Your dad and I should have been one, but I let him take away my identity by not speaking up. I blame me, not him.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“Because now I’m speaking up, and he doesn’t want to listen.” Jenna bit her lip. “Are you going to Tandy’s?”

“Just to pack my things.”

“Where will you stay? Not in that awful house we rented! Let the owner keep the deposit. There’s no furniture, and there’s rust in the bathroom sink!”

“Well, I could stay there, but since I don’t have a roommate, I think not.” She shrugged. “Tandy will take me to a car rental place this afternoon; then I plan to go to the coast and find a motel room.”