Into This River I Drown (66 page)

They left me alone after that, for a time. No one from town had been in my room to see me, though I knew some of them were nearby. I didn’t want to see them, not yet. I wasn’t ready to face the questions they would have, about the angel that slept in the church. I wasn’t ready for those questions, because I didn’t know what answers to give. I needed to see him first. I needed to get the fuck out of this damned hospital. I needed to see the man I loved.

And my anger grew.

These thoughts were interrupted when my mother came back into the room shortly after the FBI agent had left. It was only then that it hit me how hard this had to be on her as well. Not only had she lost her husband, she’d found out her sister had ordered it done. Whatever I was going through, she was experiencing almost the same. She looked tired, dark smudges circling her eyes. Her hair was frazzled and pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her clothes looked wrinkled and slept in.

I knew we were survivors, she and I. I knew we’d have to pick ourselves up from the dirt yet again. If we didn’t, then we’d be nothing and blow away. So much of life demanded sacrifice, I knew, and the only way to make it through was to take one step at a time, one day at a time. She needed me to help her back up, and I was the only person left who could.

So for the moment, I stopped planning my escape when she wasn’t looking. I stopped trying to figure out a way to get to Cal before the day was over. I started thinking about more than just myself and what I needed. She came back into my room and I opened my arms, and there was a stutter in her step, a frown on her face that turned into something more. She cracked and rushed over to me, and as she shattered, I ran my fingers through her hair and told her it’d be okay, that it’d be all right. I told her that even though it may not seem like it, one day, we’d be okay again.

There was a brief moment when I almost told her about seeing Big Eddie again. I opened my mouth to spill the words, wondering what, if any, comfort it might bring her. But a second later, I closed my mouth again. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel fair to her. I didn’t want her to know that he’d been trapped by the river for five years while trying to protect me. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was something more. I don’t know. Maybe I
will
tell her. One day.

“How do you know?” she sobbed into me, clutching at my arms. “How do you know we’ll be okay? The world has gone to shit and everything is broken! How do you know?
How do you know!
”

“Because I have faith it will,” I whispered back. “And because I have faith in you. There’s no one I know who is stronger than you. It might be rough, and it might seem unfair, but we’ll be okay. I promise you we’ll be okay.”

My thoughts strayed to Cal, and I felt like a liar. If something happened to him, I wouldn’t be okay. If he left me, I knew I would find the river and once again be adrift.

With those thoughts came the seed of doubt that sprouted quickly.

A final test.

I’m awoken
from a nightmare by a touch to my face, a finger dragging along my cheek. I open my eyes. It’s dark in the room, the only light coming from the door that’s cracked open. My heart thuds painfully against my chest. I’m convinced it’s Griggs here with me in the dark and that he’s going to take me into the White Room forever.

But then my eyes adjust and my nightmare flees. Nina is standing over me, touching my face, poking my cheek. This is the first time I’ve seen her since I’ve been in the hospital.

“Are you awake now?” she asks, her eyes shining in the dark.

“What time is it?” I ask her.

“Not too late,” she says. “Not too late for a lot of things.”

My mind is still fuzzy. “What are you doing here?”

“Big House and Little House are empty,” she says quietly. “So many things are gone. Even Mary feels it. We came here to see Lola. I came here to see you.” She looks down at my arm and touches the needle for the IV at my wrist. Her eye follows the tubing until it reaches the machine pumping me full of God knows what.

I smile up at her. “It’s good to see you.” It’s not as hard to breathe as I thought it would be.

She nods and then pulls the needle out of my hand with a quick jerk, the tape catching on my skin.

“Nina! That fucking hurt!”

She frowns. “Language,” she scolds. “We don’t have much time.”

“For what?”

“You. We need to leave.”

She pulls me up to a sitting position, ignoring my groans. “And go where?”

My aunt stares at me as if I’m stupid. “Blue needs you,” she says. “Can’t you feel it, Benji? He’s almost gone. He needs you.”

I feel cold. And what’s worse is, I hesitate. Removed from the situation by a few days, I’ve allowed my anger to rise unchecked. And this time, it is
all
directed toward him. He had a choice to make, yes, and he was tested by his Father, oh yes, but he could have done something. He could have done something more. He could have stood up to his Father and said no. He could have done everything in his power to stop it from happening. He could have saved my father.

Or,
Michael whispers,
he could have promised him to watch out for his only son for the rest of his days. Or he could have fallen to earth to protect this son. Or he could have cared for this boy
.
Or he could have fallen in love with him and treasured him above all else, even though it was so close to blasphemy it endangered his mortal soul.

“Nina,” I say, hedging.

She stops and stares at me hard.

I look away.

“Oh, no,” she says. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to say no. Not now. Not after all he’s done for you.”

My mind is beginning to clear, and it hurts to think.

“That man loves you,” she growls at me, squeezing my hands tightly. “And he needs you, Benji. Just like you need him. You can’t stay here. You can’t keep hiding. This is just another white room and you know it. If you wait too long, the choice will be made for you.”

I snap my eyes to hers. “How did you….”

“It doesn’t matter. You must hurry.”

“I’m tired,” I say. “I’m tired of everyone telling me about choices. I’m tired of having to make choices. I’m tired. The choices I make don’t matter. Nothing I do matters. How can it? God can just take everything away whenever he wants, so how the
fuck
does anything I do matter? It’s just a
game
, Nina! It’s all just a fucking game!”

She flinches away from me as I finish, but it doesn’t last long. Her gaze filling with steely resolve, she leans over and brushes her lips against my cheek. “Then you fight,” she whispers harshly in my ear. “You fight for what you believe in. You
fight
for what’s yours. He would do it for you—he already has. The only real person in the world who can know what a father can mean is dying, Benji. He’s dying, and he needs you.”

“I can’t,” I whisper, the fight draining out of me. “I can’t watch that happen. Not after everything I’ve seen. ”

She stands back, the lines around her mouth pronounced in anger. “It’s not always about you,” she says coldly. “You may think it is, and maybe since Big Eddie died it has been, but not now. Not anymore. You’ve allowed yourself to drown in your grief, thinking only about yourself. You’ve been selfish long enough, Benjamin Edward Green. Big Eddie raised you better than this.”

Her words might as well have been a slap across the face. “You don’t have any idea what I’ve been through,” I say with a scowl.

“No? So I didn’t feel pain when Big Eddie died? I don’t feel heartache knowing my Christie was the cause of it? I don’t know grief now that my own sister is dead?” Her voice breaks, and her eyes fill with tears.

“It’s not….” But it is. It is the same. It’s all the same. Every single piece. Every single part. She’s right. This isn’t what my father taught me. These aren’t the lessons I was supposed to learn. Seeing him on the other side of the river as we said good-bye should have been enough. Michael was right. I was given a gift, one that most will never get to have. And I’ve thrown it back in so many faces. I hang my head. If this was another test, then I don’t know if I’ve failed yet or not.

“You haven’t,” Nina says, and not for the first time, I wonder if she can read my mind. I wonder at my little aunt and how she came to know so much, how she can see what others can’t. I wonder just what exactly she is. “There’s still time. Not a lot, but enough. You must hurry.”

“People are going to see how I’m dressed,” I remind her.

She nods. “Thought of that. Couldn’t grab your clothes because Mary would know what I was doing, so I just took this.” Only when she starts to shrug out of it do I see she’s wearing a big coat that almost engulfs her completely. She helps me put it on, and for a moment I smell the heartbreaking scent of earth.

“I thought this went down in the Ford,” I say softly, touching the fabric of Big Eddie’s jacket. There’s a sharp pang in my head and heart because I smell earth again and think I see a flash of blue.

“It was in Little House,” she says quietly, putting my other arm through the sleeve. “Hanging near the door.”

I don’t know how that’s possible, because I’m certain it was in the Ford. As a matter of fact, I
know
it was. It was sitting on top of the bench seat, behind my neck, when the truck flipped. I don’t remember seeing what happened to it after.

Nina says nothing as she waits.

Do you believe in the impossible?
Big Eddie whispers.

I do. I do believe in the impossible.

“How am I going to get there?” I ask, easing myself off the side of the bed with a groan. I feel dizzy as I stand, whatever drugs they’ve given me for the pain causing my head to swim.

She stands next to me, puts her arms around my waist, and allows me to lean on her. “Took Mary’s keys from her purse when we got here,” she said, grunting. “I felt bad, but then I whispered I’m sorry and so I think that makes it okay. She and Lola are drinking coffee in the cafeteria, and I told them I had to use the bathroom. We have to hurry.”

“You can’t drive,” I remind her as we move toward the door.

“It’s a good thing you can,” she says.

“Uh, I’m slightly high from the pain meds.”

“I’ll be there to keep you okay,” she says. “And I think God will too.”

I don’t know how to respond to that.

“Plus, there’s coffee in a thermos in the car.”

Great. I’m sure the judge I’ll have to stand before when I get arrested for DUI will be okay with me having drunk coffee while high after breaking out of the hospital to go save my guardian angel boyfriend, all precipitated by my aunt, who has Down syndrome and may or may not be some kind of psychic. Or something.

It hits me again that my life might just be a little strange.

It takes
us almost ten minutes to get out of the hospital. Nina is taking her covert mission seriously and stashes me in empty rooms or supply closets every time someone walks by. She smiles widely at them and hums to herself, waiting for them to pass. As soon as they do, she drops the act and grabs me again, pulling me toward the elevator.

It’s empty when we get in, and the time is displayed electronically above the buttons for the floors: 8:17 p.m. She hits the button for the first floor, and I rest up against the wall, buttoning the big coat up the front so it covers the hospital gown I’m wearing. The coat hangs down to my upper thighs. It should be okay as long as no one feels the need to scope out my bare legs and feet.

The elevator moves down and then stops suddenly on the third floor. We hold our breath as the doors open. There are voices right outside the door, but it sounds like they’re distracted. I move away from the wall and hit the close button repeatedly when I hear someone say “Hey, hold the door!” I don’t, and it slides shut before anyone can see us.

“This is ridiculous,” I say to no one in particular.

The elevator reaches the bottom floor and Nina helps me out. Instead of walking out the front, she pulls me toward the side doors, leading me to the parking garage. There’s no place to hide me anytime someone passes, so I stand as tall as I can, clutching the coat around me, smiling and saying hello to everyone who passes. We get a few strange looks, but no one tries to stop us.

Finally we’re out into the garage, and the rain-scented air hits me in the face. It’s cold outside, and my feet are numb against the pavement. Nina pulls the keys out of a pocket and starts clicking the fob. Eventually, there’s an answering beep of a vehicle.

Christie’s SUV sits a few spaces down, lights flashing.

I stop. Nina was right. I’ve been selfish. I’ve thought too much of my own grief and not what anyone else might have gone through. Seeing my aunt’s SUV sitting in front of me hits me like I didn’t think it would. She betrayed not just me and my father. She betrayed my mother. She betrayed Mary. And she betrayed the little woman standing so fiercely next to me, who is determined to hold me up, determined to help me get home to the man I love before there’s nothing left but memories that rise like ghosts.

I sigh and put my hands into the pocket of the coat. My bad hand touches something small and cold. I pull the object out as Nina fumbles with the door. A small pocketknife. The handle is red. A small inscription on the side:
I love you, my husband. Forever, Este.
Estelle’s gift to her husband Abe. It was in my hand when I was shot. It fell into the river as I fell. It was lost to the rushing waters. As was the coat I wear.

“Nina?” I ask as she helps me into the driver’s seat. “Where did you say you got the coat?” I sound hoarse.

“I told you,” she huffs, pushing my legs in. “It was hanging on the coat rack just inside Little House.” She hands me the keys and shuts the door in my face.

She hurries around the back of the SUV and is climbing into the passenger side when something else hits me. “How?”

“Hmm?”

“The SUV.”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t the police have it? Wouldn’t they have impounded it?”