Heart of the Country (18 page)

43

T
HE DAY
F
AITH LEFT,
I was sitting on our couch, slouched and uncomfortable in my own clothes. I could hear the hangers clanging against one another as she pulled clothes off them. Her shoes clicked against the wood floors of the bedroom. But there was no other sound.

I sat there fuming. My bitterness was combustible.
For better or worse. For better or worse.
It kept going through my mind, the day we married, how she looked me right in the eye and told me she’d stick by me. For better or worse. And now she wanted to walk out on me? Fine. Fine! Do it.

I didn’t know if she wanted me to try to stop her or not. But if she did, my pride kept me from saying anything.

And she was gone. Just like that.

“Luke, snap out of it!” I looked up to find Jake snapping his fingers in front of my face.

“Sorry.”

“You have to focus, okay? You’ve got to hold it together in there.”

“I know. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Push it all aside. Right now, right in that room, that’s all that matters.”

Dad stepped up. He had his game face on. Stoic. Bigger than life. Powerful. Behind him was the family attorney, Cecil Yates. “It’s all going to be all right. I’ve always looked out for you. Always will.”

“So you’re clear on what you’re supposed to say?” Jake asked.

“He’s clear,” Dad said, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Right, Son?”

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Jake looked the most self-assured, like he didn’t doubt his plan for a second. Suddenly the heavy door in front of us opened. One of the prosecutors for the SEC stood there with his hand on the door, looking pleasant and professional. “Gentlemen, come on in.” Like it was a typical business meeting.

Dad went first, followed by Jake. I was stepping forward when my cell phone rang.

And it was Faith’s ringtone.

Jake turned, stared at me as I pulled out my phone. “Put it away,” he growled.

I looked at the caller ID to verify. It was her. Now?
Now?
My thumb hovered over the green button.

Jake threw his hands up and gave the prosecutor a mild glance. “Luke, it can wait. I promise. Whatever it is. Whoever it is.” We locked eyes, and he knew in an instant
who
 it was.

“You have to get this in order,” he said. “Let’s go.”

He was right, of course. What would I say to her at this very moment, anyway? I hit Mute and slid the phone back in my pocket.

But my heart broke. She finally called, and I was up to my eyebrows in this mess. I couldn’t even take her call. I sat down between Dad and Jake, across from three prosecutors, two men and one woman. All three of their faces were sober and stern. I put my hands under the table.

A man with a bald head, whom I recognized as Wright, opened a folder and began to speak about a plea deal. I heard about every fifth word, as my mind just kept flashing to Faith, over and over. My cell phone had vibrated in my pocket, indicating she’d left me a message. My heart tingled with anticipation. Was she calling to tell me she wanted a divorce? Or to tell me she wanted to come home?

Finally I focused on the prosecutor, who was mostly spouting off legal mumbo jumbo. He was just finishing up formally offering me the plea deal. He looked up, smiled pleasantly, and waited.

“No,” I said. Small word, but I’d had to practice the response a lot this morning.

“No?” he asked, glancing at his female colleague.

“No.”

“You’re saying no to a plea.”

“That’s correct,” I said, taking a deep breath. It reminded me of the scene in one of the Indiana Jones movies, where he had to take the first step and believe the bridge was there even though he couldn’t see it. Dad and Jake told me this was what I had to do, but it felt like I was stepping off a ledge.

The smirk on the prosecutor’s face said I was about to take a free fall.

“I didn’t commit a crime.” I said it firmly, like Jake told me to.

The prosecutor looked at Yates. “I hope you’re not giving him this advice.”

“You guys aren’t exactly leaving him many options, are you?”

The prosecutor’s nostrils flared. “We’re giving him a great option. Cooperate and he’ll get a plea. No time, probation, lose his broker’s license for five years.”

Dad leaned forward, put his hands on the table, and folded them together. “Full immunity and he tells you everything you want to know.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Carraday, this is one of the greatest cases of criminal fraud in American history. No one gets immunity on this one. Not even your son.”

Then something happened in that room. Nothing pal
pable. But the entire mood shifted. Yates looked at Dad. Dad looked at Jake. Jake looked at the prosecutor. And there was an unbearable silence that I thought might resemble what happens right before the guillotine drops.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Jake said in that authoritative voice he tried often on me, “we’d like to speak with you in private.” Except he was saying this to the prosecutor.

Awkward silence, except for the squeaky noise being made by my chair rocking back and forth.

“Okay . . .” The prosecutor sounded as baffled as I felt.

The agent who’d cuffed me back at Union Square stood, but Jake nodded toward him. “You, too, Agent Wright.” Wright sat back down. Then Jake looked at me. “I’ll see you outside.”

“I should . . . ?”

“Wait outside.” Jake’s voice was calm, controlled.

“Sure.” I smiled like I knew the drill, but I honestly had no idea what was going on. I walked out and stood in the hallway. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed my voice mail.

Her voice sounded as pure as a waterfall.
“Luke, it’s me. I need your help.”

44

“. . .
AND
I
TOOK
the thermometer out, and it read 102, and no kidding, she puked right there on the floor in front of me. Then Nell comes running in and says she’s just puked in the toilet. I heard this stuff was going around, but man, it just hit us out of the blue.”

“Liv, I’m so sorry.”

“It happens.” She was blinking rapidly and looking a little pale.

“You don’t look so good yourself.”

“Yeah . . . I do feel a little queasy. Listen, Faith, I think you better take Dad to his appointment with the oncologist this afternoon.”

“Um . . . about that . . .”

“Now, hear me out,” Olivia said, popping off the couch and starting to pace like she did when she had something important to say. Or think about. “You’re perfectly capable of this, Faith. You’re a smart girl. You don’t believe in yourself nearly enough. You don’t give yourself credit. You hear me? You’ve fallen on hard times. Everybody does. But part of picking yourself up includes doing things you don’t think you can do.” She stopped, waggled a finger at me. “And I know you don’t think you can do this, but you can. I wouldn’t put Dad’s life
 
—his whole life
 
—in your hands if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

I stood and took Olivia by the shoulder. “I think you should sit down. You really don’t look well.”

“I don’t feel that great.”

“You’re really pale.”

“Anyway, I don’t want to hear a word about it, okay?” Olivia said, turning to me as we sat on the couch. “That’s just the way it’s going to be.”

I took a deep breath. A really deep breath. I kind of felt like the blood was draining out of my face too. By Olivia’s expression, I knew I was right.

“Good grief, Sister, you look like you’re about to pass out. I’m asking you to take him to the doctor, not the morgue.”

“Liv, please. Just . . . just hold on, okay? I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I need you to hear me. To really listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’m not taking Daddy to the oncologist.”

“Of course you’re not.” She sighed loudly. “All right, fine. I’ll do it. I just thought you might want the chance to prove to yourself and everybody else that
 
—”

“I’m taking him to New York.”

I didn’t think she could get any paler, but I was wrong.

“What’d you say?”

“I’m taking Dad to New York. To Sloan-Kettering. There is a neurosurgeon, Dr. Sinclair, who is the best in the world at removing these kinds of tumors.”

Olivia was blinking rapidly again, apparently trying to process the information.

“Lee is the one that told me we need to get him there. So that’s what we’re going to do. It’s his best shot. Our best shot.” I put a hand on her knee. But she jerked it away.

“When is his appointment?”

I paused. This wasn’t going to go over well. “He doesn’t have an appointment.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re trying to get him one. Lee has tried to work through his Columbia acquaintances to get him in but hasn’t had any luck. So I’ve asked . . .” I’d known this wouldn’t come out easy. But it didn’t come out at all.

Olivia stared at me, then motioned for me to continue. “Yeah? Asked who?”

“Luke.”

“Luke?”

“Lee said I should try to use the Carraday family to get Dad in. It’s still a long shot, but they’ve got a lot of connections. I know his dad donated money to the hospital. I remember going to a benefit . . .” My words trailed off as I watched Olivia growing tense.

“So that’s your plan? Just skip this appointment, hope Luke comes through for you?”

“I’ve got to give it a shot, Liv.”

“What if he doesn’t get in?”

“I’m going to have faith that he will. That’s why we’re leaving this evening. I’m driving Dad to New York. We’re going to stay in a hotel there until we get in.”

Olivia shot to her feet. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m not crazy
 
—”

“That’s your plan? Luke coming through for you? Dad in a hotel, on a wing and a prayer?” She turned, walked around the coffee table, stood at the far end of the room like I had the plague or something. “Dad will never go along with this.”

“He already has.”

Tears welled in her eyes
 
—big, plump . . . the kind that burst out of you so fast you don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel them drip down your cheeks. “Why would you depend on Luke? His family?”

“Because they’re good people, at the end of the day. They never liked me much, but they’re good people.”

“Dad can’t travel, Faith. He’s frail. Have you noticed? What is that?” She gestured toward the living room, where Dad slept. “His fourth nap of the day?”

“He’s
 
—”

“Dad doesn’t travel well. Don’t you know that? He hasn’t left home in years. He hates big cities, and you’re taking him to the biggest city!”

“To try to save his life!”

“His life? Or yours? Isn’t this just a scheme to get back to Luke? Using Daddy and his illness?”

“How dare you,” I said, standing. “I would never do that.”

“Are you sure?” The color was back in her cheeks. Bright red. “Because habits are hard to break.”

“What habits?”

“Selfish habits.”

We both tried catching our breaths. Our chests heaved up and down.

Then she put her hands on her hips. “If this isn’t about Luke, then maybe it’s about Lee.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I see how you two are. Chummy. Laughing. Enjoying each other’s company.”

I looked down. I couldn’t deny those accusations. A part of me
 
—a big part of me
 
—was tempted by Lee. Finally I looked at her. “It was Lee’s idea to go to New York. It was his idea for me to call Luke. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Suddenly Dad was in the doorway, bleary eyed, his shirt crumpled from the recliner. “What’s going on in here?”

Olivia’s whole demeanor changed as she turned to Dad.
It was gentle and sweet, and her large brown eyes stared at him like she was a little girl. “You’re going to New York?”

“I am,” Dad said.

“You didn’t even ask me.”

“It’s my tumor.”

“But . . . you’ve always asked me for my opinion.” The pain in her voice was nearly unbearable. I was starting to see where she was coming from. This was a blind side hit for her. And Dad never blindsided her.

“Faith was here. She told me the plan. I thought it was good.”

“You hate hotel rooms,” Olivia said, wiping a stray tear.

“And big cities. But that’s where all the specialists are. Now, I’m hungry. Figure we better eat a good, well-priced meal before we take off. You and Hardy want to join us?”

Olivia just shook her head.

“They have the stomach flu,” I told Dad. He walked toward his bedroom. I looked back at Liv. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you out of this.”

“Really.” She walked toward the door. Took her purse and swung it over her shoulder.

“Liv, please. I’m just doing what I think is best for Daddy.”

“You two have a good trip. Let me know if I can be of any help.”

The door slammed shut, and I was afraid our relationship had too.

45

I
COULD HEAR
them talking inside, but only muffled voices, buffered by the heavy wooden doors that had shut behind me. Nearby, I’d found a wall to lean against. My legs were wobbly, mostly because I didn’t know why I had been dismissed from the room. But my heart felt stronger. Just hearing Faith’s voice stirred a hope in me that I’d lost the day she walked out.

I listened to her voice mail five times, to make sure I was hearing her correctly and also just to listen to her. Calvin was sick, but I could hear it in her voice . . . she was dying inside. I’d never met her father, but Faith always spoke fondly of
him. I remember thinking that if we ever had kids, I wanted them to feel about me the way she felt about him.

A certain guilt followed me whenever she talked about Calvin. I’d taken her away from something or kept her from returning. She didn’t want to return to North Carolina, but I should have urged her to reconsider.

But for a while, we were complete, just the two of us. Our happiness was wrapped up in one another. What else did we need?

We needed the fairy tale not to end.

I looked up the phone number and dialed it, keeping my eye on the conference room door.

“Dr. Sinclair’s office.”

“This is Luke Carraday, calling for Dr. Sinclair.”

“I’m sorry . . . what was the name?”

“Carraday. Luke Carraday.” I cleared my throat; my own name was sticking there. “It’s a rather urgent matter. Dr. Sinclair and I are members of the
 
—”

“He’s not available.”

“I see.” Sweat started soaking through my shirt. “Do you know when he might be in? Like I mentioned, it’s very urgent and I would appreciate it if
 
—”

“I’ll let him know you called.”

“Tell him I really need
 
—”

The line went dead. And so did my resolve. Finally Faith was reaching out to me, and I couldn’t help her. My name was like a curse now. I shoved the phone into my pocket and then tore my fingers through my hair. I had to find a way.

Suddenly the doors to the conference room opened. Jake walked out first, then Dad. I stood up straight, trying to ignore how damp my body was. Jake walked toward me, smiling. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before they change their minds.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.

“What is this?”

“Your immunity deal.”

I walked with both of them. Dad had his hand on my shoulder. “Are you serious?”

Jake put his arm around me too. “Yeah.”

I clutched the piece of paper. We walked swiftly like we might be running from something. Soon we were inside the limo. I was breathing hard, but I wasn’t sure if it was the walk or the news.

I stared at the paper, then at Dad and Jake. “How’d you do it?”

“Details later. For now, work. But tomorrow we celebrate.”

I nodded. Even grinned. I folded the paper and tucked it right next to my phone. It was freedom, but I wasn’t free because I still had to help Faith and get her back in my life. And no immunity deal was going to accomplish that. It was on my shoulders.