Lost in Dreams (10 page)

“Welcome home, Kim … Aleesha.” He kissed and hugged me before hugging her. I still couldn’t believe he’d kept all this warmth and affection bottled up inside for so many years.

“That must have been some session you had with Dr. Lancaster.” He smiled.

The good doctor must have been true to his word. Dad wouldn’t be smiling now if he’d learned about my crime. He’d start blaming me for Mom’s death, too, and I couldn’t live with that.

“I suppose so,” I said. I hated to sound cautious, but Dad might have found out something I didn’t already know. That possibility made me uneasy.

“From what Dr. Lancaster just told me, today was a breakthrough session. He’s never seen anything like this so early in counseling, and he’s been practicing for sixteen years.” He looked older than that. Especially at the end of today’s session.

Dad must have been waiting for me to respond. I wasn’t sure what to say.

“He didn’t tell you what my problem was, did he?” I had to know that before I could say anything else.

“I didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer. I knew he wouldn’t … and I knew you’d tell me whatever I want to know.”

Need to know? Maybe. Want to know? No way
.

“Daddy …” I squirmed a bit on the sofa and started playing with one of the holes in the afghan. Mom would have gotten after me for stretching it. That thought was enough to make me stop.

I couldn’t force myself to sit still, though.

“I told him”—
how much can I safely tell you?—”I
told him I’ve been feeling really guilty about something.”

Aleesha cleared her throat and shifted her weight. She hadn’t forgotten about the things I couldn’t tell Dad. I knew she was praying for me.

His face grew a huge, instant crop of worry lines.

“Don’t worry.” I forced myself to smile. “It’s nothing illegal.”
Not in the usual sense, that is
. “Nothing immoral. It’s just too … personal to talk with you about.”
There. That’s the

truth in a safe nutshell
.

“Would you have been able to talk with your mother about it?”

Boy, did that one catch me off guard. As horribly as I missed Mom, I hadn’t thought that much about not having her around to talk my problems over with. But after what Dad said …? I broke out crying, and he held up both hands … in immediate surrender.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He put his arm around me, and I leaned into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. Dr. Lancaster agrees that this guilt is responsible for your fatigue, I assume?”

“Yes. Probably, anyhow. He wants me to stay on the antidepressants, though. He thinks they’ll help some—”

“You seem more energetic now than when you left to see him today.”

“Maybe, but I’ve got a long way to go. Dr. Lancaster said emotionally induced fatigue isn’t easy to fix.” I decided not to mention the patient who’d committed suicide.

“He indicated that to me, too.”

A slight smile curled upward from the corners of my mouth. Dad had just given me the opening I’d been waiting for.

“Daddy, I’ve ‘fessed up now”—
as much as I’m going to, anyhow—”so
what else did he tell you?”

Aleesha leaned forward, her ears more closely resembling a pair of satellite dishes than I’d noticed before.

The three of us must have talked for a couple of hours after that. As bushed as I’d felt initially, I found the prospect of getting better exhilarating. No matter how long it might take.

The most important part of our conversation—Aleesha didn’t mind participating in this one—had to do with Dr. Lancaster’s recommendation of a complete change of scenery. As soon as humanly possible. It wouldn’t heal me, he’d said, but

getting away from everything that reminded me of Mom could only help. New sights, new sounds, new smells would help me accept the fact that Mom’s death wasn’t the end of my life.

For the first time since arriving home from Santa María, I realized I’d unwittingly become the center of attention once more. I’d planned to help out at the House of Bread again—outside myself. And I’d planned to start college and start my study of Spanish in earnest—in preparation for helping others.

But I hadn’t even been up to giving a report on my trip to the youth group at church. That hurt.

“You know what, Kim?” Dad said “Maybe we shouldn’t stay in this house. It’s pretty big for just you and me—”

“And your loving second daughter,” Aleesha chimed in. “The one her pale twin sister put in a basket and left floating on the Nile for eighteen years. Amazing what that kind of sunshine can do to a girl’s skin.”

I cracked up. Dad stared at her. Speechless. He was quite fond of Aleesha, but he sometimes found her unpredictability a bit, uh, unsettling.

“A little joke, Mr. Scott,” Aleesha said. “Please don’t start thinking of me as a permanent member of the family. If I stay here forever, I’ll start fading. Cheshire cat style a la
Alice in Wonderland
. Slowly losing all my beauty. Like Kim’s suntan in midwinter.”

I’d enjoyed a couple of good laughing bouts since Mom’s death, but I don’t think I’d laughed this hard since cutting up with Aleesha at San Diego International. It didn’t just feel good; it felt great. And why not? Laughter was a healthy reminder that there was hope for me yet.

But that didn’t answer the question about the house.

“This place holds a lot of memories, doesn’t it?” I asked. “I’ve seen those pictures you took while it was being built. And when you first moved in. “

Truth be told, I didn’t have strong feelings one way or the other about the house. I didn’t want him to do anything he might later regret, though, especially if he did it only for my sake.

“Mmm.” He sighed.
Okay, so you don’t want to sell the house
.

“Do you want an apartment or a condominium?” he said.
So you
do
want to sell the house? Okay, I’ll tell you what I think
.

“If we were to sell the house”—I was proud of being so grammatically correct in this discussion with the live-in English professor who’d always enjoyed correcting my mistakes—”I’m sure we’d want a condo. That way we’d still own our home.”

Dad tried to hide a frown, but he didn’t do it fast enough to keep me from seeing it.

“I was thinking you might prefer an apartment, Kim. No upkeep.”

Just say it, Daddy
. You’d
prefer an apartment
.

“I don’t want a condo if you don’t,” I said. The cliché about “lying through my teeth” ricocheted from one side of my brain to the other and back again.

“And I don’t want an apartment if you want a condo,” he said. “After all, the purpose of moving is to provide a change of scenery for you … a chance to escape any lingering memories that might hold you back. No need to move into an environment you’re not fond of just because it’s different.”

Good point
.

“Hold on, you two,” Aleesha said before she started chuckling. “This isn’t a tennis match, and both of you need to come out winners.”

Dad looked at me, smiled, and shook his head. I winked at him.

“You have a better suggestion, girlfriend?” I said.

“As a matter of fact …” She reached into her purse—one that had room for everything but the kitchen sink—and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Maybe two.

“Check this out … fresh e-mail from Mr. Rob.”

“Cool!” I wondered if that announcement had brightened my smile as much as it lifted my spirits.

“Mr. Rob …?” Dad said. “He was your—”

“Our senior project lead in Santa María,” I reminded him. “The older fellow.”

He snapped his fingers and nodded.

“Okay, older dude and younger dudette,” Aleesha said before Dad and I could say anything else, “do you want to hear this or not?”

“Please!”

“‘Aleesha, thanks for letting me know about Mrs. Hartlinger’s death. I wish I could have been there for the funeral. I’m glad you could stay with Kim and her father for a while. I know you’ve been a big help. It can’t be easy for—’”

The doorbell rang, but before anyone could answer it, Jo stuck her head inside. “Am I interrupting anything major?”

Since it was Aleesha’s e-mail, I thought she should decide. “Is it okay?” I mouthed.

She shrugged. Even though Jo had behaved better lately, Aleesha insisted that she still had some of “the smell.” But at least she conceded that it wasn’t as strong as it had once was.

“You want to come in and sit down, Jo?” Maybe she was giving Jo another chance, but she didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it.

Jo plopped down at the opposite end of the sofa from me, making me bounce. At some more appropriate time, I’d have to tease her about gaining weight.

“You can read Mr. Rob’s message for yourselves later,” Aleesha said without giving Jo any of the backstory. “But

here’s the nutshell version. He’s helping to build housing for people to stay in while they visit friends and family members in a prison that’s located in a remote, mountainous area in California. Some local churches have raised enough money for the materials, but not enough to pay for the actual construction. Sound familiar?” She grinned.

“Why can’t those people just stay in a hotel or a motel?” Jo asked.

I’d wondered that, too. I was glad she’d been the one to ask, though. If the question turned out to be dumb, I’d prefer that she look stupid and not me. Then I laughed to myself. I hoped I didn’t really feel that way.

“Several reasons, Jo.” Much to my relief, the question didn’t appear to upset Aleesha. “First of all, when I say ‘remote, mountainous area,’ I mean thirty or forty long up-and-down miles from the closest town. With the price of gas now, people can’t afford to make that commute two or three times over a long weekend. That’s not counting the unnecessary exertion and the amount of visitation time they’d lose by spending so much time on the road.”

“That would be a shame,” Dad said. I nodded.

“Furthermore,” Aleesha said, “the people we’re talking about helping can’t afford to stay in a motel or eat every meal out. They need a simple room with little more than a bed, a toilet, a sink and a shower, and a small refrigerator and microwave—and it has to be cheap and close to the prison.”

“Oh, wow …” I sat forward on the sofa, anxious to hear more. I was already hurting for these people.

Dad, Aleesha, and Jo began staring at me with amazed looks on their faces, but I didn’t realize at first they’d noticed how much perkier I was acting. Although that change had taken place almost instantaneously, it took me a few minutes

to see it in myself. Aleesha gave me a thumbs-up before she continued.

“In many cases, they’re visiting the very people who used to be the family breadwinners. Incarceration of husbands—and sometimes of grown sons—has left a number of unskilled women in desolate condition. Many families that used to live comfortably are on welfare now.”

“How horrible.” Jo might have had her prejudices, but she still had a heart.

“So,” Aleesha lowered her voice to a near-whisper, “can you imagine these women trying to visit their sons or husbands when their financial situation is already working against them?”

I was in tears. I forgot about my guilt—at least for the time being. Same about my fatigue.

“Does Rob need help?” I asked. Dad and Jo narrowed their eyes at me and then looked at Aleesha.

“Mr. Rob pointed out that Christmas vacation is coming up, and he thought we might have some time on our hands. He also pointed out that doing something for people in need is the same as doing it for Jesus.”

Everyone remained silent for a moment. “So you aren’t the only one he’s invited?” Dad said to Aleesha.
Go, Dad!

“He told me he could use five or six people, but he’d settle for—let’s say—three or … four.”

Four? I looked around the living room. Uh … the one, two, three, four of us?

“He knew about Terri’s death,” Dad said under his breath. “He wanted to come.” He might have been talking to himself, but we could hear him.

“That’s what Aleesha said,” I said in a near-whisper. “And he sent flowers.”

“He also knows about Kim’s fatigue problem,” Aleesha

said. “He said to be sure she comes. Getting away from here and helping meet somebody else’s needs might rejuvenate her.” She looked at me. “I don’t think he realizes how incapacitated you’ve been, though.”

Rosa’s daughter, Anjelita, came to mind. That little eight-year-old had done wonders in Santa María with only an arm-and-a-half. She didn’t think of herself as handicapped or incapacitated. She’d inspired me with her ability to find a way to do whatever needed doing.

I could view this challenge either of two ways. I could keep giving in to my current limitations, or I could return to California and trust God to enable me. Which would it be?

Everyone was staring at me. At least it felt that way. I could almost hear Aleesha thinking,
“Will you stay down there where circumstances have landed you or get up and let God help you prance on those pebbles?”

What do You want me to do, Lord? I’m not making any more trips without checking with You first
. I could almost hear Him laugh and say,
“This is a no-brainer, girl. Go for it. “

I must have startled everyone in the room when I yelled, “Amen!” at the top of my lungs. Like Dr. Manette when they freed him from prison in Dickens’s
A Tale of Two Cities
, I felt like I’d been “recalled to life.”

I
feel great,” I’d said after Dad, Jo, and Aleesha got tired of staring at me for my unexpected gush of energy that evening. “I feel like turning somersaults.”

“Uh,” Jo said, “I wouldn’t try that if I were you. You almost broke your neck trying to do those in gym class.”

The room filled with laughter. Aleesha’s was the hardiest, and she and Jo actually smiled at one another. Maybe that smell would disappear yet. And maybe Aleesha would quit sniffing so hard.

“You know what?” I said. “Don’t bring my supper to the sofa. I’m coming into the dining room.” I hadn’t eaten at the table in months.

“If you feel
that
strong now,” Dad said, “why don’t I take you all to a steakhouse to celebrate?” And what a celebration it was.