In All Deep Places (3 page)

His mother.

“Mom! What happened? Is Dad okay?”

She began to cry.

“He… they re doing some kind of test right now. The doctor in the ER said he’s probably out of the woods but, Luke, he can’t talk and he can’t… he just has this blank look on his face like he doesn’t
know who I am!”

Her voice broke into sobs.

“Mom! Tell me what happened!”

He heard her sniffling on the other end.

“I don’t know when it happened, Luke! I was at a ladies retreat
and I got home after our own sunrise service at about ten-thirty.
He was lying in the living room when I came in. I don’t know how
long he’d been lying there!”

Luke was now wildly pacing the kitchen. His dad was only sixty-two. Too young. Too young
to be lying in a hospital bed in that condition. His mom was too young to have this happen to her husband. He had to get there. Fast.

“I’m coming, Mom. I’ll get on the first flight I can, okay?”

“Yes, yes. I don’t know how to get you here to the hospital. I
don’t know where—”

“Mom, I’ll rent a car,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll get there. Don’t worry about that. Do you want me to call Ethan?”

“Oh, yes
.
I don’t have his number with me!”

“I’ll take care of it. And I’ll get there as soon as I can. What’s
Dad’s room number?”

“Oh, it’s two… thirty-six. But he doesn’t have a phone in his
room!”

“I’ll call you at the nurses’ station just before I get on the plane,
okay?”

His mother was sobbing again.

“Mom?”

“Okay, yes… yes.”

“See you soon.”

He clicked off the phone.

“God,” he said aloud, but nothing else came. His hands were shaking, and he couldn’t think. He needed to call a travel agent or
go online or something. Just
then he heard a car pull up in the driveway. He glanced out the side
door window. T
é
a and the girls were home.

He stepped into the dining room, hiding from his girls and mentally focusing on steadying his breathing. He knew Téa would send them upstairs to change into play clothes. He needed to talk to his wife alone. And he wanted to be calm when he did. The door
opened and voices filled the silence.

“Okay, you two,” he heard Téa say. “Put those leotards in your
dresser, not on the floor.”

He heard the sound of his daughters scampering upstairs. He
came around the corner, startling his wife.

“Luke!” she yelled playfully, at first thinking he had hidden to play a trick on her. But then she saw his face and her playful shock
turned to concern. “What is it?”

“My mom called. Dad has had a stroke. Mom says he can’t
talk or move. She wasn’t there when it happened, so no one knows when it happened, if it was this morning or last night before he
went to bed…”

His voice choked up. He reached for Téa and she came to him,
laying her head on his chest.

“I have to go to him,” he whispered. He felt her head nod.

“Of course,” she whispered back “Of course you do.”

He held her tighter. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone
.”

She looked up. “We’ll just take one day at a time, okay?”

Luke sighed. “I’ll miss Noelle’s graduation from kindergarten on Friday. I might miss her birthday next week, too.”

Téa reached up and touched his cheek. “She’ll understand. She loves her Grampa Jack. And the girls and I can join you after school
gets out if you’re still there, okay?”

He wrapped his hand around hers. “Maybe.”

She broke away. “You go pack. I’ll call the travel agency. Then
we’ll tell the girls together.”

He nodded, grabbed the address book from a basket near the phone, and punched in the number for Ethan’s school in Burkina
Faso.

While he waited for the call to go through, he began to climb the stairs to the bedroom. The sound of a faraway phone rang in his ear, followed by the sound of his brother’s sleepy voice.

Luke began to speak, without so much as a stray thought about the startling revelation he had less than an hour before while he sat
in his Lab with a cat on his lap.

L
uke sat with his mother in a room off the nurse’s station
as dawn peeked through nearly closed mini-blinds behind
them. She was asleep, leaning into him on a borrowed pillow. He had dozed off, too, sometime in the middle of the night. They had been encouraged by the night nurse to get a decent nights rest at
a nearby hotel. She had even recommended one, but neither Luke
nor his mother wanted to leave the hospital. They had both felt compelled to stay close by, as if they expected Jack Foxbourne to
suddenly awaken from his strange stupor and ask where his family
was.

Luke yawned and stretched, and then felt his mothers small frame stir beside him. She lifted her head.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily.

Luke raised an arm and looked at his watch. “A little after six.”

She was silent for a moment.

“I can’t believe this has happened,” she said softly. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up. But I
am
awake. And this is real.”

Luke involuntarily flinched when she said the word “real,” remembering for the first time since he’d learned of his father’s stroke that he had his own set of hurdles looming ahead.

“I’ve always known life can change in an instant,” she continued.

“I’ve seen it happen to other people. I see it happen to people in Halcyon all the time. I saw it happen to the little Janvik boy in
front of my very eyes
.
But I just never considered it might happen
to us.”

Luke put an arm around his mothers shoulder and she let her
head fall into the place on his chest his movement created.

‘Tm afraid he’s gone, Luke,” she whispered.

“Don’t…” he replied. But he could say nothing else.

When Luke had finally arrived at the hospital the evening be
fore, it was nearly six-thirty. Jack Foxbourne’s face had been expressionless when Luke first saw him lying on layers of white, but his
father’s eyes seemed to glisten with fear as Luke made eye con
tact with him, as if his dad knew exactly what was happening and
it scared him to death. A thick, bright-white bandage was taped
above his right eye, evidence he had hit something hard and unfor
giving when the stroke had felled him.

The emergency-room doctor had told them the stroke had
occurred on the left side of Jack Foxbourne’s brain, disabling the
speech center and paralyzing his right side.

“But he will recover, right?” his mother had asked.

The doctor had paused before telling Luke’s mother she really
needed to talk with the stroke-rehabilitation doctor, whom Jack would see for the first time later today, about her husband’s recovery.

“Why can’t
you
tell me?” she had said, sounding very young and afraid.

“Recovering from a stroke is sometimes very slow and difficult, Mrs. Foxbourne. And it can be different for everybody. The most significant recovery will happen in these next thirty days. And most stroke victims continue to recover for several months. Usually by six months, though, whatever recovery is going to take place will have taken place. Some of the skills he has lost he will recover, some he probably won’t. He will need to learn to adapt to his new limitations. And you need to know it takes time to learn to compensate for skill
deficits.”

“What deficits? What do you mean?”

“Well, your husband may need to learn how to hold a fork differently, or walk with a cane or a walker, or button a shirt with one
hand. He may need to relearn how to read and write. When the
brain is damaged, we enter into a whole new realm of unknowns,
I’m afraid.”

I’m afraid, too,
Luke had wanted to say.

The doctor had said nothing else, and Luke and his mother had
spent the rest of the evening and night wondering what awaited
them. For Luke’s mother, it was a fresh set of troubles. For Luke, it seemed like his dilemma had just been magnified three times over.
And another long day was just beginning.

By nine o’clock that evening, Luke had convinced his mother
to leave the hospital for a night of rest at a nearby hotel. He had
offered to drive her home to Halcyon for the night but she refused
to make the forty-five-minute trip. He got her situated in a hotel
three blocks from the hospital, taking care of the arrangements and escorting her to her room. As he got ready to leave the hotel, his mother looked at him, a question poised on her lips.

“Luke, I need to ask something of you… something I would
never ask if there was any other way…” She stopped.

Luke knew what it was she wanted to ask him but was struggling to say. He had known all day, ever since his mother had called Lucie at the newspaper to tell her his father had had a stroke. His
father’s paper was currently without an editor. He was the most
likely and qualified person to step in for a while.

“I know what you’re going to ask me, Mom,” he said quietly. “It’s all right. I’ll do it. At least until we can make other arrange
ments.”

“I hate to have to ask you,” she said. “I know you never wanted
to go back to the paper. But Lucie can’t do it all. And Gretchen and Todd don’t even
know
how to write. Cubby can only write
sports stories. You should have seen the last story he did on the city council. It sounded like a play-by-play of a wrestling match.”

She was crying again but her sudden humor was welcome—the
first he had seen of it since he arrived.

“It’s not that I hate it, Mom, it just wasn’t the career for me,” he said, trying to reassure her. “It’s not what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I don’t hate it, okay? But I honestly can’t stay indefinitely. We may need to think about selling the paper, Mom.”

She looked up at him, her brief display of humor gone. “You’re
already giving up on him?” she said, with a slight edge in her voice.

“I’m not giving up,” he said, surprised by her response. “I just think we need to be prepared for some unpleasant choices. Mom,
he may not be able to—”

“We don’t know anything yet! We don’t have a crystal ball!” she said, standing at the little table. “Luke, don’t give up on him. You can’t! If you do, he’ll see it. He needs to know he can get well!”

“Mom, maybe we should talk about this another time. You’re
tired, I’m tired.”

“You must promise me you won’t say a word to him
about selling the paper!” his mother insisted. “And you can’t men
tion it to me when I am with him. He hears everything just fine. He mustn’t think his life won’t wait for him!”

“Mom, let’s just forget it for now, okay? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“But you’re already thinking about it,” she said, nearly pouting.

Luke wanted to collapse into a bed. He wanted sleep. “Mom,
please,” he said.

She was silent for a few seconds. “Promise me you won’t give
up on him.”

Luke looked intently at his mother, trying to match her deter
mination.

“Mom, I will not give up on
him,”
he said.

But the newspaper was another matter. He could stay a month, maybe two. But that was it. He had a book to finish. He had a wife and kids back in Connecticut. He had a life. And it wasn’t here in
Iowa.

Although his mother wouldn’t go back to Halcyon for the
night, Luke would. He would need to stop by the newspaper in the
morning anyway. Lucie would be eager to know how Jack was… and what the future held. The latter question was as hard for Luke to consider as his writer’s block. Halcyon in the late spring moon
light looked as peaceful and serene as its name suggested. The tree-lined residential streets were dotted here and there with the warm
hues of creamy yellow and fairy blue; colors cast by porch lights and glowing TV screens in living-room windows as Luke made his way through town. His hometown was home to three thou
sand with another eight hundred or so on nearby acreages. The true
heart and soul of the community—the family farms—were visible on any road leading out of town; they were marked by grain silos, solitary clusters of trees, and two-storied, shuttered houses that all faced south.

Luke wove through the quiet streets, traveling past the lamp lit town square, the silent band shell in Memorial Park, and the darkened storefronts without a great deal of interest. He purposely eased up on his speed as he drove past the offices of the
Halcyon Herald,
though. He supposed it had been crazy in there earlier today as the staff pulled the paper together for the printers tomorrow morning.
He was glad the office was dark and that Lucie and Cubby were not still inside trying to put the paper to bed. He would have felt compelled to stop and help them.

Luke turned past the bank and the post office and cast a glance down the street that led to his old high school. It seemed odd to be driving these familiar streets in a strange vehicle without Téa and
the girls. It seemed even more out of place to be headed toward his childhood home, knowing he’d be sleeping there tonight and would be alone.

He turned down a side street and followed it for several blocks, slowing down by the house where his best friend, Matt, had lived. He had no idea who lived there now. He had long since lost track
of Matt. He turned left onto Seventh Avenue.

Luke’s parents’ house came into view, standing in a pearly-splash of moonlight but wrapped in its own darkness, with not
even a light in a bedroom window showing. As he pulled into the
driveway, he noticed that the Janvik place next door looked the
same—dark and unwelcoming. It was obvious no one was inside either house. He wondered if Norah’s grandmother’s old house—still painted the same nauseating shade of green—was empty again. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was. That house was cursed. No one had ever truly been happy in it. Not before Nell Janvik had owned it and not after. And certainly not while
she owned it.

Luke stopped the car in the driveway and got out. He took his
suitcase out of the trunk and walked up the dark pathway to the
front door, noticing that a
For Sale
sign was indeed poking out of
the front lawn next door. Dandelions had sprouted all around the
sign’s legs, and even in the darkness, Luke could tell the sign had
been there for a while. He pulled his mother’s key ring out of his
pocket, slipped the key into the lock, and stepped inside.

When he switched on a light in the living room he saw at once where his father had fallen. He saw the lamp on the floor, the small
spot of blood on the carpet, the end table that was out of alignment with its twin on the other side of the sofa. His dad had no doubt fallen against the table, hitting his head on the corner. The
lamp had crashed to the carpet with him. Three indentations in the carpet showed where the legs of the little table usually rested.

Luke closed the door behind him, stepped farther inside, and put his suitcase down by the sofa. His mother’s overnight bag was there, too. He moved the end table back to its rightful spot and replaced the lamp. He’d tackle the little bloodstain tomorrow. What
could one more day matter?

He sank down onto the sofa and rested his head in his hands for a moment. It was after ten but he needed to talk to Téa. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket
.

“Hey.” Téa’s voice at once began to soothe him.

“Hey, yourself,” he said wearily.

“How’s it going?”

“There wasn’t a whole lot of change today. He’s trying to talk but can hardly get one word out right. And it’s driving him crazy. They’re moving him to a regular room tomorrow. And he starts occupational and physical therapy tomorrow, too. The doctor said the first days of therapy are like hell. For everybody.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I wish the girls and I could come.”

“Actually, I think maybe it’s best if you don’t for a while. He wouldn’t want you or the girls to see him like this.”

A few seconds of silence passed between them.

“So, do you know how long you’ll be staying, Luke? The girls
are already asking.”

Luke took a deep breath before continuing.

“He’s going to be in recovery for several months. He may get some of his movement and speech back, but the doctors aren’t
even suggesting he’ll fully recover.”

“So… what does that mean?”

“Well, between you and me, I think it means my parents are going to have to sell the paper. Dad’s going to have to retire a little
early.”

Téa was quiet for a moment. “That’ll kill him,” she said. “Sorry, I know it’s a bad choice of words. But Luke, I can’t imagine your
dad not having that newspaper.”

“Well, my mom can’t either. She won’t even discuss it with me. I’m thinking she’s going to have to realize it on her own, and I’m betting these next thirty days will convince her of it. That’s when
the most recovery will be made.”

“So you don’t think he’ll be able to go back?”

Luke sighed. “I suppose it’s possible. But I really think it would
take a miracle, Téa.” He suddenly couldn’t continue.

“Luke, I’m sorry,” Téa said, her voice also filled with sadness. “Is
there anything I can do?”

“Just pray for him,” he said gruffly, struggling for control.

“I already am,” she said. Then she added after a momentary pause, “So, you’ll be staying then. I suppose you’re handling the paper for him? Do you know for how long?”

Luke rubbed his left temple with a free hand.

“I don’t know,” he answered, clearing his throat. “I didn’t say
anything to my mom, but I can’t see how I can stay longer than a couple months.”

“A couple months,” she repeated tonelessly. “And you don’t want the girls and me to come at all? The whole time?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to come
right away. Dad would… I think it would devastate him to see No
elle and Marissa and not be able to hug them or talk to them. I don’t think any of us could handle what that would do to him.”