Embrace Me (44 page)
I jerk my gaze across to him. “What?”
“Those kids. One little girl came up and showed me her Easter dress and said Pastor Gus bought up all the pretty dresses he could at the Goodwill and dropped them off on their porches in the middle of night.”
“How did she know that?”
“She said her grandmother caught you and thought it was the most Christian thing she'd ever seen.”
“Oh, Dad.” I lay my head back on the cushion, looking up at the water-stained ceiling tiles of this dump. “Do you have time to hear a story?”
“I do.”
I lift my head up.
He settles himself more comfortably. “Son, it's good to be here with you. I've got a lot to learn in this place. And unfortunately, not much time to do it. So tell me what's on your mind.”
He hears it all, and with every word of self-indictment, I free him a little more.
In my heart I want some drippy emotional scene where I forgive my father and he hugs me and we weep together. But I don't see that coming. “How about a pot of tea? I don't know about you, but confessions go better with hot drinks.”
He laughs. It's the first time I've heard my father laugh.
Several minutes later the tea steeps in a pot on the coffee table, mugs sit at the ready. “So Dad, I know what you're going through. Well, I mean . . . I don't know. I just . . . I forgive you.”
Dad bows his head and folds his hands. He looks up. “Thank you, Son. It's more than I deserve.”
“And I want you to stay here with me at Shalom. Just like you said . . . we don't have much time left, do we?”
“No. We sure don't.”
My father is still a good-looking man, but his raw power is diminished, both in physique and in that aura he once possessed. I feel sorry for him.
Dear God, I feel sorry for him.
How strange.
He is one of God's children.
And so am I. And so is Val. And will we ever be able to grasp one another's hands with a joyful heart? I just can't imagine it.
The next day, I order a hospital bed from the medical supply company and set it up in the bunkroom.
He eyes it with suspicion.
“I know, I know you don't need that yet, but there's no sense getting a regular bed just to have to replace it.”
“I know you're right, Son. Just seeing it there is hard is all.”
“I know.”
“It's funny . . . sometimes practicality can wound.”
“Hey, we can get it out of here. No problem.”
“No. No. I wasn't talking about the bed, Son. It looks like just what I can use. In fact, I'll use it right now. I'm beat.”
It's 9:20 a.m.
“Let me put the linens on.”
“I'll help.”
“No, that's okay. Just keep me company while I do my work.”
In those words I get a glimpse of what the next few months until his passing will hold. And I am grateful. I don't deserve this. But I'll be here.
I mean, I won't be heading back to Blaze's anytime soon. Val deserves to never see me again.
Blaze rushes into Shalom as I wash the supper dishes.
“Gus, Val's gone.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know. Her camper's gone. She left sometime during the middle of the night. What happened between you two after I left the kitchen?”
“Blaze, it's for Val to say, not me.”
I've confessed to all the right people. Now it's time to do what Daisy suggested I should have done all along. Let it lie.
Blaze throws her weight on one leg. “Well, she's responsible enough. I'm sure she'll be all right.”
“Did she take her things?”
“Not everything. She left behind her comic books and her costumes. Roland's heartbroken.”
A week later Bobby enters Shalom, looking dejected and rougher around the edges than usual.
“Where's Valentine?”
“She went away on a trip, Bobby. Want something to drink? I've got juice.” Val's influence is already making its mark. What kid wants tea to drink day after day?
“Apple?”
“Orange.”
“Okay, I guess.”
I pour us both glasses and hand him one.
“Hey, that's pretty good,” he says after chugging it down in a few giant gulps. “Can I have some more?”
“Nah. Got to save some for the other kids.”
“Shoot.” He crosses his arms. “Maybe I should drink it slower next time.”
I laugh. “It might be a good idea.”
“Who's going to help me with my math?”
“How about me? I'm not too bad at it.”
We settle down at one of the tables in the main room. After a while he looks up from his work. “You're not nearly as good at math as she is, Augustine.”
I'm not surprised.
“Hey, Bobby, want to learn how to paint rooms?”
He shrugs. “Sure. You going to paint around here? Because it sure is ugly.”
“Yeah. That's exactly what we're going to do.”
“Just don't ask Mrs. Hopewell what color we should paint, though, because she'll say purple, and this place would look terrible if it was purple.”
“I was thinking yellow.”
“A nice goldy yellow. We don't want it to look like a girl's room.”
“Definitely not.”
Two hours later we've got the supplies. Dad even does a little taping around the windows. “This is a fine idea, Son. This place could use a face-lift. You know, you could start a halfway house or something here.”
“That takes more cash than we have. We'd have to add on too. And you know, Dad, if we ever take this one step further, I was thinking about a place for kids. Older kids.”
“You do well with children.”
Charmaine buzzes in an hour later. “I heard you were buying paint down at the hardware store!”
“How did you hear that?” I tip some more golden paint into the tray.
“You can't do nothin' in Mount Oak without somebody seeing. You know that, Gus. I'm here to help! Like the IRS.” She chuckles at her own joke.
Oh, Charmaine.
“How are you at painting around the ceilings?”
“They don't call me Sure-hand Charmaine for nothing! You got a ladder?”
I set her up. She climbs and starts singing as she cuts the paint in around the ceiling.
“I'm done taping the baseboards.” Bobby.
“Good, I'm done scrubbing the walls. You go ahead and follow Mrs. Hopewell and paint down by the baseboards. I'll follow you with the roller.
Dad finishes the windows. “Nap time for me.”
“You go on, Mr. Parrish.” Charmaine. “When you wake up it'll look like the sun came for a visit and decided to stay.”
Two weeks since Val left. I've caught myself thinking of her as Daisy, and I've forced myself to stop. She asked me to.
Blaze said she heard from her. She's just traveling around and is fine. She said she'll probably visit her dad for a while.
Dad offered to pay for new tile flooring in the main room and the kitchen and, not about to pass up a gift like that, I got the floor man in here the next day. Bobby helped pick it out.
“I like the stuff that looks like flower pots.” He indicated the terra-cotta tiles.
“Nice choice.”
It looks good in here now. Nothing fancy, but cleaner and more inviting. Who knows what God will do with this place?
It seems strange, drinking tea with my dad in the evenings. Sometimes we read quietly. If the time is right, we pray the offices together. I finally came right out and asked him if he was really a Christian. I know that's between God and him, but as I said, “I'll do so much better after you're gone if I know.”
He smiles. He's been smiling a lot more and it changes him completely. I misused smiling back at Elysian Heights, but a genuine smile is the greatest thing. And if it's accompanied by a laugh, there's no telling what it will do.
“Yes, Son, I am.”
“When?”
“Just before I got cancer.”
“Before?!”
He nods. “Odd, isn't it? It's as if God knew what I'd need to get me through.”
Okay, maybe it's not so strange after all.
“What happened?”
“You sure you want to hear this?”
“Positive.”
He closes his eyes, then opens them. “I was taking Communion at the church the president goes to. I've been taking Communion for years, so I didn't think anything about it.
“All of a sudden, the wafer tasted like dead, rotting flesh, and the wine turned into sawdust. It was the most horrible thing I've ever had in my mouth. And I heard a voice inside say, âThis is what you've made of Me. What you make of Me right now.'
“I went back to the house and fell on my knees right there in the foyer. Thank goodness Malena takes off on Sundays. I wept like a baby and the words of your mother kept pouring over me, sin after sin, compromise after compromise.
“Son, I repented and I asked God to take me if He'd have me. I'd listened to enough sermons to know He would.”
