White Picket Fences (20 page)

Tally felt Amanda flinch in her chair on her other side.

Neil stared at his son across the table. “I don’t doubt Eliasz’s memories of the war are very powerful, but they can’t have any true visual shape in his mind. You have to have vision to create a visual memory of something. I’m sure that what Eliasz remembers is what he felt, heard, and smelled.”

Chase stared back at his father. “He said his best friend’s wife was beautiful.”

Neil blinked. “I’m sure he remembers, say, her perfume or perhaps the shape of her face beneath his fingers. The sound of her voice. But he can’t know what she really looked like.”

“What if he can?” Amanda’s voice sounded thin.

Neil turned to his wife. “It’s not possible, dear. Look it up if you don’t believe me. I’ll bet any one of you that I’m right. People born blind don’t see in their dreams. They don’t see when they close their eyes. That would be creating something from nothing. Only God can create something from nothing.”

A moment of awkward silence followed.

“I’m finished.” Chase stood up, grabbed his plate, and walked into the kitchen.

“I’m going to look it up on the Internet.” Delcey jumped out of her chair and headed for the den. “But I’m not betting you, Dad,” she called over her shoulder.

Neil stood and wordlessly took his plate into the kitchen. He and Chase were side by side for only a moment by the sink. Then Chase turned and headed for the stairs.

“Homework?” Neil called after him.

“Yep,” Chase answered from the third step.

A moment later Tally heard the kitchen door to the garage
open and shut. Tally looked at Amanda. Her aunt offered her a weak smile and said Tally didn’t have to help with the dishes since no one else was doing it. Tally decided to stay and help.

They didn’t talk. Not about Matt wanting to ask her out. That could wait until morning.

And not about what a blind man sees when he dreams.

twenty-four

A
manda stood in front of Neil’s open closet with five hangers in her hands; freshly pressed button-down shirts hung from them. She studied the length of the wooden rung in front of her and the long row of business shirts that ended where a row of dress slacks on a lower rung began. Amanda leaned into the shirts that were already hanging there and breathed in deeply, snagging a whiff of Dior Homme—Neil’s preferred fragrance-mixed with faint traces of coffee and leather. The aroma was calming.

When she’d met Neil in college, she’d been impressed by his taste in clothes and cologne. It surprised her actually, since Neil wasn’t particularly mindful of his appearance. He wore his hair unremarkably short and chose neutral colors for his expensive clothes, never buying anything with a logo bigger than a dime. His polished looks were accidental, unplanned. Neil didn’t know his physical appearance was impressive and didn’t count on it mattering much.

The only child of two college professors, Neil lived and breathed academia in his growing-up years. He was knowledgeable in so many things, yet somehow he never made her feel uninformed. She loved that about him. She spent the better part of their early dates listening to him expound on deep philosophical
issues like the problem of evil, whether or not the mind can exist outside the body, and how the atheist lives a life of faith—he cannot prove that God does not exist. But what she found most amazing was his kindness to strangers. Neil opened doors for men and women alike, gave up his seat on buses and taxis, tipped twenty-five percent, chased down people who’d dropped their wallets or car keys, and went out of his way to return a lost dog. It was Superman kindness, the kind of benevolence a comic book hero shows when he doggedly rescues a complete stranger as if saving his own soul. This quality was one of the things that first attracted her to Neil, his kind attention to people he didn’t even know.

Neil was a good man. He had given her a good life. They had a beautiful home in an upscale neighborhood. Financial security. Two healthy children. Nice cars. They’d taken vacations to Hawaii, Vail, and Orlando. Neil didn’t drink excessively, wasn’t abusive, and didn’t smoke or gamble or cheat on her. He was active in their church, made beautiful things in his woodshop that he gave away, encouraged her to pursue her own career, didn’t berate his kids, didn’t annoy the neighbors, didn’t stay out late, and wasn’t addicted to the office.

He was a good man.

A queer sensation ran through her as nagging snippets of the moments she spent confiding in Gary mingled—tangled—with the scent of her husband.

Gary had been the kindest of listeners the last few days-calm, objective, and ultimately the voice of reason. But his compassionate touch left her confused. When he left the classroom after she reassured him she would be fine, the echo of his hand
on her shoulder stayed with her. Things seemed a bit strained as he said good-bye, as if he knew something indefinable had passed between them as he consoled her.

She closed her eyes and buried her face farther into the shoulders and sleeves of Neil’s shirts, inhaling, inhaling, inhaling. The floppy fabric gave way, though, and she found herself starting to fall forward. She lifted her head and reached out with her free hand to steady her footing.

After a moment, she parted the shirts, creating room for the hangers she held in her hands, and hung up the freshly laundered Van Heusens that didn’t smell like anyone. Amanda leaned against the door frame of the closet, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The conversation at dinner had replayed itself in her mind all evening. She didn’t know why Chase had made such a big deal about her grandmother’s possibly not being her blood relative. It was like he wanted her grandmother to have been an imposter. Like he was glad there were secrets in the family’s past. Like it was all a part of something bigger, something that had nothing to do with her grandmother or blind men. And Neil didn’t seem to get it at all.

She’d willed Neil to catch her eye from across the table with a look that said,
Don’t worry, Amanda. I’ll talk to him later.
She’d wanted him to sense what she had sensed: Chase was trying to communicate something to them. But that’s not what Neil had done. He’d taken his plate to the sink and then disappeared into the woodshop. Where he still was two hours later.

Amanda closed her eyes and pictured Neil knocking on
Chase’s door and stepping into his room. She pictured him sitting on Chase’s bed and asking their son if he really thought the blind man at the nursing home could see in his dreams. And when she imagined Chase saying yes, she pictured Neil saying, “Tell me why.”

In the next instant, it was Gary she saw on Chase’s bed asking those questions, risking the answers.

Amanda’s eyes snapped open. “Stop it,” she whispered.

She pulled away from the door frame and slid the closet door shut. She numbly moved to the granite-topped bathroom counter with its matching porcelain sinks and leaned on it, supporting her weight with both arms and inhaling slowly, willing herself to be reasonable.

Gary was an acquaintance she’d known for a mere three weeks. He could be objective about this situation because he wasn’t emotionally involved. Gary had nothing to gain or lose by being honest, and she wanted to believe there was nothing wrong with unloading on him. She wanted to believe he was just a dispassionate colleague. An objective bystander.

But it had been awkward today in the classroom. And the day before, since he’d comforted her. She’d had a hard time concentrating on the children. And Gary seemed to always be looking at her. He sensed it too. An awkwardness that hadn’t been there before.

Finally, between classes he approached her desk while she recorded test scores on her computer. “Everything all right?” He wore a
Monsters, Inc.
tie.

“Yes. Fine.” She knew she didn’t sound convincing.

“Look, I don’t want you to worry that you told me too much the other day. Or that I think of you differently. Or Neil. I’m sure he’s a great father.”

“N-no…,” she stammered. “I just… had a lot on my mind. You know.”

“Of course.”

“And… I’m a little embarrassed. I don’t usually have a meltdown like I did the other day.”

“You probably just needed to vent. That’s normal. I’m sure any psychologist would agree.”

The memory of his hand on her shoulder filled her mind, and she squirmed slightly in her chair. “I should’ve dumped on Penny, then.”

He cracked a smile. “Oh great. So I totally bombed as your listening ear?”

“Hardly. You were wonderful.” The moment she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. Her face grew warm, and she couldn’t look at him.

A press of students spilled into the room at that moment, chattering and laughing. She’d risen quickly to her feet and moved to greet them. When the noise of their arrival faded, Amanda stole a glance at Gary. He was talking to a trio of fourth graders, but he must’ve felt her gaze on him. He raised his head to look at her while he continued to speak to the children. A tiny smile rested on his lips, but it was a questioning smile.

When the school day ended, Gary seemed to be in a rush to leave. Maybe it was just her imagination, but he was out of the classroom in less than five minutes. And he gave her a long glance as he said good-bye for the day.

“See you tomorrow?” she’d said.

“Yes,” he answered.

She’d watched him leave the room and walk down the long hallway toward the double doors that led to the rest of their lives. As she’d gathered her things, she kept hearing Gary say yes, yes, yes.

Amanda could still hear his response as she leaned on her bathroom counter. She slowly looked up to stare at herself in the mirror above the sinks.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she said, but only her lips moved. No sound came out.

It wasn’t right that she kept reliving those moments with Gary. Not right. Neil was a good man. A good husband. A good father. He loved Chase. He didn’t want Chase to suffer. They didn’t agree on much about their current predicament, but they certainly agreed on that. They both loved Chase and wanted what was best for him.

If only Neil saw it the way Gary did…

No. No, no, no! This is ridiculous. I am not in love with anyone but Neil. I am in love with Neil.
She lowered her head.
This is not happening. This is not happening.

Two tears escaped her closed eyes and splashed side by side on the granite countertop.

“I am in love with Neil,” she whispered.

She looked at her reflection again. “I am in love with Neil.”

Amanda swiped away the fallen tears, rubbing her wet fingertips onto her jeans as she walked away from the mirror.

twenty-five

C
hase knelt in a tiled room. He held a brick in one hand and the stub of a pencil in the other. Someone was kneeling next to him. He turned his head and saw Eliasz.

Eliasz took the brick and pencil out of his hands. “Hurry!” Eliasz still had his old man’s face and gnarled hands, but his voice sounded young. And he looked straight at Chase.

“You can see,” Chase said.

Eliasz seemed not to hear Chase or didn’t care to comment on the obvious. He thrust a canvas tool bag into Chase’s empty hands. “Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“Too late for what?”

A window broke and he heard a woman screaming. Feathery shards rained down on him and on the bag. A
whoosh
replaced the screaming, and a ribbon of flame fell into the room.

Ghost.

Chase looked up at Eliasz, but the old man was gone. The tiled room was gone.

His knees felt hot carpet, and his hands held the canvas tool bag. Smoke and ash swirled around him. In the corner of the room, Ghost twirled about like a dancer.

Chase watched the dance, mesmerized. Someone was crying. He couldn’t breathe.

Mommy! Daddy!
The words stung his throat.

He had to get out. Chase started to crawl away from the dancing flame. Was the door over here? He bumped into something. Arms and legs.

Another little boy. The boy was crying. This was the boy with the stain on his shirt. He was banging on the closed door with his fist.

Move away!
Chase yelled.
Move away!

But the boy didn’t move away. Chase pushed him. Hard. The boy screamed and toppled over. But Chase opened the door. There was another loud whooshing sound.

The other boy scrambled ahead of him, on top of him. Chase felt a sharp sting as the boy’s foot smacked him above his ear.

Dancing Ghost yelled his name as he began to crawl away. And someone was crying.

Chase looked up and through the smoke he saw Eliasz, staring at him. “You forgot the bag.”

Chase turned back toward the smoky darkness where Ghost roared like a jubilant dragon. The bag lay where he dropped it, almost in the embrace of the happy, hungry flames. He tried to crawl back but his legs wouldn’t move. He fell forward on the carpet. He tasted the fibers on his tongue. He could see the bag in the shadows ahead of him. He could see Ghost reach down for it.

“No!” Chase yelled.

Arms reached out for him, to pull him back. He swung around to resist, his head crashed against something hard, and the dream—the smoke, the flames—vanished.

Chase opened his eyes.

Tally knelt over him. Fear shimmered in her eyes. The fuchsia streaks in her hair shone pink in the amber glow of the hall nightlight.

He lay in the hallway.

“Chase,” she said.

He bolted upright, nearly knocking her over. “What’s going on?” he rasped.

“I think you were sleepwalking,” she said softly. “And having a nightmare.”

“What are you doing here?” He was aware at once at how unkind his hushed voice sounded, even though strands of sleep still permeated his thoughts.

“I… You… I got up to use the bathroom, and when I came out you were in the hallway. Crawling on the carpet. And groaning. You’re not in your room. Did you know that?”

Her voice had risen in pitch from a whisper to a soft but agitated tone. Chase slid his back up against the wall and looked down to the end of the hallway, toward the door to the master bedroom. He waited several seconds to see if a stripe of light would appear under his parents’ bedroom door. When it did not, he rose to his feet. Next to him, Tally did the same.