Touching Stars (8 page)

“Your grandparents are very traditional people. Maybe you’ve noticed that?”

“On the rare occasions when I’ve seen them?”

“My father wanted a son worse than he wanted the next breath of air. Three daughters later, he finally got one. Me. So I was the prince of the household. It’s no surprise my sisters don’t like me. They resent the way they were required to kowtow, and I can’t blame them. I’ve tried to put things right, but there’s a lot of history to outlive.”

“My grandparents don’t treat you much like a prince these days.”

“Your grandfather wanted me to stay in Texas and run his dry-cleaning chain. He’s never forgiven me for disappointing him. Your grandmother doesn’t cross him.”

“And that’s why none of them offered to take you in this summer?”

The silence stretched too long. “That would be why,” Eric said at last. “But I think maybe you wish they had.”

There was no time for Noah to respond. Dillon raced around the side of the house and took the steps at a run.

“Hey, Dad, you’re up!”

Eric could feel what little energy he had draining away.

Dillon stopped just in front of them. “Me and Noah were going swimming, but we don’t have to go. We could do something together.”

Eric managed a weak smile. “Not up to that yet, champ.”

“Then we could stay here. I’ve got stuff to show you. Noah, you can tell him all about the—”

“No, you go on,” Eric said too sharply. He swallowed more of the same and tried for a gentler tone, but he could see the damage was already done. “I didn’t mean to be short with you, Dillon. I’m sorry, but I’ll be a lot better company in a few days, I hope. Right now I’m just not up to much. And with your brother’s graduation this evening, I’m going to have to rest this afternoon.”

Dillon still looked stricken, as if Eric’s words had been a physical blow. Noah got to his feet. “Get your suit on, Dillon, okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Dillon, I promise we’ll spend some good time together just as soon as I’m feeling better,” Eric said.

Dillon galloped back down the steps without another word.

Noah turned to his father. “You know, I remember what it was like to be thirteen. It wasn’t that long ago, and you didn’t have time for
me,
either. Maybe if you’d been more interested then, I’d believe you were really interested now. But I guess I just don’t buy this fatherly routine. And if you wait too much longer, he won’t, either.”

Before Eric could answer, Noah followed his brother’s path.

F
or the first hour of Jared’s graduation party, Gayle told herself that Mama’s Worst Nightmare, a rock band made up of five of his fellow graduates, was passably talented. Unfortunately, their repertoire was limited, and now, after three identical sets, she was hoping all the members—particularly the lead singer, whose nasal screeching had never earned him a solo in the high-school choir—were seeking careers outside the music field.

“How are you holding up?”

Gayle turned to find Elisa Kinkade behind her. Of course she hadn’t heard her friend come into the kitchen. She hadn’t heard anything except one line the lead singer had shrieked into the microphone over and over again. And five minutes later she still couldn’t figure out the words.

Which, most likely, was a good thing.

“I’m dying,” Gayle said. “I’m going to unplug them after this song.”

Elisa was the wife of Sam Kinkade, the minister of the Shenandoah Community Church, and they had come prepared to help with the party tonight. Sam had marched straight to the grill to help Travis flip hamburgers. At Gayle’s protest, he had threatened to follow her around and quote random theologians all night unless she gave in.

“The kids love it.” Elisa, dark-haired and dark-eyed, looked almost young enough to be one of them.

“I’m thinking earplugs would help the situation,” Gayle said. “Or tranquilizers. Strong ones.” Her eyes brightened. “You could help with that.”

Elisa had gone to medical school in Guatemala and was now doing a residency in Charlottesville so she could be licensed in Virginia. She gave a soft laugh and began to slice a pizza that had just come out of the oven. “There are no pills strong enough to help you sleep through this.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do if Dillon ever starts a band. I’ll make him call it Mama’s Got a Shotgun.”

“Where do they put all this food? I take it out, and before I can turn my back, it disappears.”

The lead singer shrieked the indecipherable line one last time, the drummer banged out a final solo, and suddenly the room was quiet.

“There’s hope for sanity,” Gayle said.

“Maybe they’ll take a long break.”

“Maybe I’ll throw the power switch. We can have a party in the dark, right? As long as it’s quiet.”

Elisa arranged the pizza slices on a platter. “I had the chance to talk to Mr. Fortman. It was odd to be face-to-face with a real man instead of a news clip.”

“Everybody in the county has been so kind. Eric will probably be considered something of a folk hero here for the rest of his life.”

Noah poked his head into the kitchen. “Jared says to tell you the band’s packing up. They have another gig. He thought you’d want to know.”

Elisa and Gayle’s eyes met. They smiled simultaneously.

“Yeah, okay, they’re pretty awful,” Noah said. “But they’re loud.” He disappeared again.

“He’ll be next,” Elisa said. “Or rather, next after Leon. All of them graduating, and you so young.”

Gayle stared at the spot where her son had been. “I had them young. I always thought it would be best that way. The boys at home while I was filled with energy and enthusiasm, then the boys leaving while I was still young enough to do the things I wanted. Eric and I would—” She stopped, appalled at what she’d almost said.

Elisa answered smoothly, as if the last fragment hadn’t been uttered. “Sam and I will do it the other way. Old, tired parents with no enthusiasm.”

“You know you’ll be enthusiastic, both of you, once the residency is finished. You’re born to be parents.”

“The graduation? It was beautiful?”

Gayle thought about the moment when Jared had walked through the line to get his diploma. All the years of nurturing him, comforting him, helping with homework and trying to pitch balls he could hit. The science-fair projects and basketball games. The occasional weeks he had spent with his father, giving her a taste of what was to come.

“It was beautiful,” she said. “I knew every parent who was sitting around me. Through the years, we all became friends. Eric didn’t know anyone.” This had seemed significant and sad to her, but she wasn’t sure Eric had realized how alone he really was in the stands. People had greeted him like a celebrity, but not like the proud father of the class president.

“He had a group around him the last time I went to check on Sam,” Elisa said.

“He’s an entertainer by nature.”

“Was he okay at graduation? Feeling strong enough to be there?”

“I don’t think so, not really. But he went anyway.”

“This has to be hard. For both of you.”

“Having Eric here is one of the last things I can do for Jared before he leaves us for good.”

“A chance to finish up business?”

“I want the boys to know they have two parents they can count on.”

The door swung open, and Dillon, disheveled and sweaty, came in. “Do we have more pizza? Noah grabbed the last piece!”

“I have another plate right here, and you can have the first piece.” Elisa held up the platter. “Will you take it out to the table for me?”

“Sure.” He grabbed it. “Cray brought Grapevine. I’m teaching him to roll over.”

“Well,
there’s
a party game.” Gayle wished Jared’s best friend had left Grapevine, a mixed-breed puppy whose heritage remained a mystery, at home. Grapevine had never been anything but sweet tempered when she had encountered him, but with the crowds and the noise, she was less certain.

“I wish we had a dog.”

It was an old complaint. Dillon knew too many of their guests had allergies, so she ignored the comment. “Come back for this after you drop off the pizza, okay?” She held up a platter of brownies.

“Man, with Jared gone, I’m going to have a lot more work to do.” He left, shaking his head.

Elisa burst into laughter. “That one is a character. Don’t tell anybody, but Dillon is my favorite in the coming-of-age class. I can always count on him for a smile.”

Gayle had been fond of Elisa; suddenly she was fonder. “He’s definitely a work in progress.”

“Only because he has important places to progress.”

“I think you’ve earned something to eat. What do you say? Shall we go out and join the others?”

“Now that the band is gone.”

Managing everything but the brownies, they pushed through the swinging doors and went out to the porch. There was just enough room at one end of the long tables set up under the trees beyond the driveway for the remaining food. After Elisa left with a soft drink for Sam and Dillon dropped off the final platter, Gayle stacked empty dishes and used serving utensils in plastic crates hidden by long tablecloths. She straightened what remained.

Now that the band was packing up, someone had turned on the stereo that Jared had set up on the patio. She recognized the expressive voice of
American Idol’
s Kelly Clarkson, one of Jared’s favorites. Best of all, the volume was manageable.

Popping the top of a soft drink, she made the rounds, visiting groups of partygoers. She didn’t linger with the teenagers, staying just long enough to welcome them and be sure they were having a good time. From experience, she knew the presence of an adult stifled party conversation.

She kept her eyes open for unacceptable behavior, but tonight only the most serious infractions were grounds for ejection. She wondered how well she was going to cope with having a college student, or how Jared, who had been so popular and respected in this rural county, would cope with urban college life. In Cambridge he would be just one of a freshman class of top students and a stranger to New England.

At the grill, she stopped for a real visit. Sam was no longer in residence, but Travis had been joined by Noah, who handed over his barbecue tongs the moment she was in reach.

“Reverend Sam says he’ll be back in a little while,” he said. “Can you keep Mr. Allen company?”

The thought was pleasing. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Travis all night. She’d seen him at the graduation, sitting with the rest of the faculty, but this was nicer. She accepted the tongs, and Noah took off.

“It seems to be going well,” Travis said.

“It does, doesn’t it? I was afraid graduation would be overshadowed.”

“By the return of the ex?”

She shuddered convincingly. “Sounds like a horror movie.”

He inclined his head toward the house. “I introduced myself. He seems tired, but okay.”

Gayle glimpsed Eric comfortably settled on the porch, and he wasn’t lacking for company. In fact, he was more or less holding court. She guessed that even if he was exhausted, he was happy enough to be the center of attention.

“How are
you?
” she asked.

“Soaking it up. This was a good class, and these kids were the best of it. I’m going to miss them.”

She thought—as she had so often—that Travis would have been a terrific father. His marriage had lasted only a few years before his wife had died of a previously undiagnosed heart condition. Like Travis, Chloe Allen had been an archaeologist, and Egypt’s Valley of the Kings had been the wrong place to suffer an aortic dissection.

Gayle had always thought that Travis’s marriage, as brief as it was, had spoiled him for anyone else. He displayed photographs of a curly haired, bright-eyed Chloe on his fireplace mantel, and another of the two of them in front of the pyramids, smiling into the camera without a clue that the end of their world was just around the corner. He’d had women in his life since he’d come back to the valley, but apparently no one who could measure up to his first love.

“You’re the teacher they’ll come back to visit,” Gayle said. “There’s at least one at most schools, the teacher who really wants to know how his students are doing, who actually listens when they tell him, who never forgets the important things, even if he’s had hundreds of students since.”

“Teaching’s turning out to be a good life. None of my pottery fragments ever come back to visit me.”

She laughed and nodded toward the grill. “You must be tired of that. Let’s quit. Food consumption’s slowing down, and I’ll refrigerate anything you haven’t grilled. I can’t thank you enough for pitching in.”

“I’ll just finish what I started. But while you’re feeling grateful, have you thought about the dig site?”

“I trust you completely. If you think it’ll work, it will. Of course you can dig there.”

“When the dust settles, we’ll go over together and check it out.”

“Deal.”

“And along those lines? I have an idea that involves Dillon. I wonder how you’d feel about him spending a little time with me before camp starts. I have a project in mind.”

Gayle’s fondest hope was that Dillon and his father would finally develop a relationship this summer. But she was also realistic. Even if that were to happen, Eric and Dillon would need breaks from each other. This seemed like the answer to a prayer.

“Ask him, please. I hope he says yes to whatever it is.”

“I think he will.”

She left Travis with a smile and a quick pat on his arm. “I’m going to look for him right now, and I’ll send him this way. Last I heard, he was training a dog.”

She knew she also had to check on Eric, who might be tired of the hoopla by now and ready to vanish. She hoped she would find Dillon with him, basking in the warmth of his father’s attention, but it was not to be. Eric had an audience of three adults from the church, who were sitting in chairs flanking his, and four of Jared’s friends sitting at his feet. They were asking him about stories he had covered, and despite the pallor and the too-stark cheekbones, she was reminded of many times like this one, when Eric had enthralled party guests.

One of the friends, a man who had led Jared’s Explorer troop, saw Gayle come up the steps and pointed to another chair, as if to question whether she wanted him to move it closer so she could sit with them. Gayle shook her head. She wasn’t ready to play audience to Eric’s dramatic retelling of a story he had covered. She was certain he wasn’t recounting the past months in Afghanistan, since he looked more at ease than he had since his arrival. He had always been happiest when he was center stage.

Eric stopped and looked up in question.

“Just wondering how you’re doing. And looking for Dillon. Have you seen him?”

“Doing fine, and no, I haven’t.”

She felt a flash of annoyance. Asking Eric for help would never have occurred to her. He was recovering from an ordeal she didn’t have the courage to think about. But to her, keeping track of their sons didn’t seem like work. It seemed natural, the kind of thing a father and mother did without thinking. She was afraid that had she asked Eric this question at any moment through the long evening, his answer would have been the same. He didn’t know where Dillon was because Dillon wasn’t on his radar. Noah, and even Jared, were also off on the periphery.

“Well, if you see him, will you tell him I’m looking for him?” she asked pleasantly, and he nodded.

“So what was the inside of Yasser Arafat’s compound really like?” one of the kids asked. “After they’d bulldozed it and he was, you know, still living there?”