Dream a Little Dream (37 page)

Edward jerked away and flew to Rachel’s side. No longer yelling, he gulped for air between sobs. “Don’t you . . . marry him, Mommy. You marry . . . Pastor Ethan!”

She squatted next to him, appalled that he’d overheard that part of their conversation. “Oh, Edward, I’m not going to marry anyone.”

“Yes! Marry . . . Pastor Ethan. Then we . . . we can stay here.”

“Pastor Ethan doesn’t want to marry me, baby.”

Once again she tried to embrace him, but he pushed away. “I’ll
tell
him to!”

“You can’t tell grown-ups something like that.”

A wrenching sob. “Then marry . . . Rosie’s daddy. I like him. He calls . . . me Chip and . . . he gave me a . . . head rub.”

“Rosie’s daddy is married to Rosie’s mom. Edward, I’m not going to marry anybody.”

Once again, Edward turned back to Gabe, but this time he didn’t attack. His chest spasmed in hiccups of emotion. “If my mom . . . marries you, do we gets to . . . stay here?”

Gabe hesitated. “It’s not that easy, Chip.”

“You live here, don’t you?”

“Now I do.”

“You said you want to get married to her.”

Gabe cast a helpless look in her direction. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll let you. But only if we get to
stay here
.”

Edward was no longer the only one crying. Rachel felt as if she were being ripped apart. She knew she was doing the right thing, but there was no way she could explain it to him. “I can’t,” she managed.

Edward’s head dropped. A tear splattered on the toe of his sneaker, and all the fight seemed to leave him. “I know it’s because of me,” he whispered. “You said you won’t marry him because he don’t like me.”

How could she ever make him understand something so complex? “No, Edward,” she said firmly. “It’s not like that at all.”

He regarded her with subtle rebuke, as if he knew she weren’t being honest.

Gabe’s interruption startled her. “Rachel, leave us alone for a few minutes, will you? Chip and I have to talk.”

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

She’d never felt more helpless. Surely he wouldn’t try to hurt Edward even more. No, he’d never do that. And the relationship between them couldn’t get any worse. Still, she hesitated. And then she realized she had no idea how to handle the situation herself, so maybe she should let Gabe try. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Go on.”

She hesitated for a moment longer, but his implacable expression told her he wasn’t going to change his mind, and the cowardly part of her needed to get away, just for a few minutes, so she could put herself back together again. Finally, she gave a reluctant nod and slowly rose to her feet. “All right, then.”

Now that she’d agreed, she didn’t know where to go. She couldn’t bear the idea of being cooped up inside with nothing to do but pace from room to room. She turned toward the path into the woods instead, where she and Edward walked nearly every day, and prayed she was doing the right thing by leaving them alone.

Gabe watched Rachel until she disappeared into the trees, then he turned to the boy.

Edward regarded him warily.

Now that the time had come, Gabe couldn’t think of anything to say, but every spark of decency he possessed told him he couldn’t let this child be tortured by something that wasn’t his fault. He made his way to the back step and sat down so he didn’t tower over him.

Edward sniffed and rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Gabe hadn’t planned to ask Rachel to marry him, but now that he’d said the words, he knew it was what he needed to do. What they needed to do. But the boy was standing in the way.

“Chip . . .” He cleared his throat. “I know things haven’t been great between us, but you need to know that doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s because of . . . because of things that happened to me a long time ago.”

Edward stared at him. “When your little boy died.”

He hadn’t expected this, and the most he could manage was a shaky nod.

There was a silence, and then the boy spoke. “What was his name?”

Gabe drew a long, unsteady breath. “Jamie.”

“Was he strong?”

“He was five, just like you, so he wasn’t as strong as a grown-up.”

“Was he stronger than me?”

“I don’t know. He was a little bit bigger, so he might have been, but that’s not important.”

“Did you like him?”

“I loved him very much.”

He took a cautious step forward. “Was you sad when Jamie died?”

His name! Gabe worked to find his voice. “Yes. I was very sad when Jamie died. I still am.”

“Did you get mad at him like you get mad at me?”

Not ever in the same way, he thought. “Sometimes. When he did things wrong.”

“Did he like you?”

Speech deserted him. He nodded.

Edward’s arm moved. He glanced around, then his arm fell back to his side. The rabbit.

“Was he scared of you?”

“No.” Gabe cleared his throat again. “No, he wasn’t scared of me like you are. He knew I’d never hurt him. I won’t hurt you, either.”

He could see the boy framing another question, but the ones he’d already asked were slicing him open. “Chip, I wish you hadn’t overheard us talking, but since you did, you know that I want to marry your mom. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea, and I don’t want you to give her a hard time about it. I’m going to try to change her mind, but she has to do what she thinks is right, and if she decides she won’t marry me, it’s not because of anything you’ve done. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

He should have saved his breath.

“She won’t marry you because of me.”

“Some of it has to do with you,” he said slowly, “but not because it’s your fault. Because of me. Your mother doesn’t like the way I got off to a bad start with you. Because I wasn’t nice. It’s kept you and me from getting along too well. That’s my fault, Chip, not yours. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m not strong like Jamie.” Keeping his distance, he picked at a small scab on the back of his hand. “I wish Jamie could come play with me.”

Out of nowhere, Gabe’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sure he’d have liked to do that.”

“He could prob’ly beat me up.” He sat down on the ground as if his legs could no longer support him.

“Jamie didn’t fight too much. He liked to build things, just like you do.” For the first time, Gabe thought of the similarities between the two boys, instead of the differences. They liked books, puzzles, and drawing. Both of them could entertain themselves for long periods of time.

“My daddy died in a plane crash.”

“I know.”

“He’s in heaven right now taking care of Jamie.”

The idea of G. Dwayne Snopes watching out for Jamie was too much for Gabe, but he didn’t say anything.

“I wish my mommy would marry Pastor Ethan or Rosie’s dad.”

“Chip, I know you don’t understand this, but I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d stop trying to marry your mother off to my brothers.”

“My mommy won’t marry you because me and you don’t get along.”

Gabe couldn’t think of how to respond. He’d already told the boy it wasn’t his fault. What more could he say?

“I don’t want to go to Flor’da.” Edward lifted his head to look at Gabe, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “If we got along, I bet she’d marry you, and we wouldn’t have to go away.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. There are other problems that don’t have anything to do with you. I just don’t know.”

A mulish expression came over Chip’s tear-streaked face, and at that moment, he looked so much like Rachel, Gabe wanted to cry himself. “I do! I know!”

“Know what?”

“How to make her change her mind and marry you.”

The boy looked so certain that, for a moment, Gabe was sucked in. “How?”

He began tugging up clumps of grass. “You could pretend.”

“Pretend? I don’t know what you mean.”

More grass came up. “You could pretend you like me. Then my mommy would marry you, and we wouldn’t have to go away.”

“I—I don’t think that would work.”

His brown eyes filled with hurt. “Couldn’t you even
pretend
to like me? It wouldn’t have to be real.”

Gabe forced himself to meet the boy’s gaze and utter his lie with complete conviction. “I do like you.”

“No.” Edward shook his head. “But you could pretend. And I could pretend about you, too. If we pretended real good, my mommy would never know.”

The boy’s deadly earnestness was tearing Gabe apart. He looked down at the scuffed toes of his boots. “It’s a little more complicated than that. There are other things—”

But Chip jumped to his feet, no longer listening. He’d said what he had to, and now he wanted to share the news. He dashed toward the path in the woods, calling out as he ran. “Mommy! Hey, Mommy!”

“I’m over here.”

Gabe heard Rachel’s voice, faint but still audible. He sat on the step and listened.

“Mommy, I got something to tell you!”

“What is it, Edward?”

“It’s me and Gabe. We
like
each other now!”

Rachel dropped Edward off at child care on Monday morning, then sat in the parking lot gathering her courage. She knew what she had to do, but there was a big difference between knowing and doing. So many loose ends to tie up before she left.

She leaned her head against the Escort’s window and made herself accept the fact that she and Edward would be getting on the bus and heading for Clearwater in a week. Misery settled over her, and her heart felt like a bleeding wound inside her chest. Watching Edward act as if he and Gabe had magically become friends was wrenching. All evening Edward had smiled at Gabe, this small, insincere crescent stretched across his teeth. At bedtime, she’d watched him gather his courage.

“Night, Gabe. I really like you a lot.”

Gabe had flinched, then tried to cover it up.
“Thank you, Chip.”

She blamed Gabe, even as she knew he was doing his best not to hurt Edward. That made Gabe’s helplessness all the more painful, and her decision to leave even more necessary.

When she’d tucked Edward in, she’d tried to talk to him about what was happening, but he’d only shaken his head.

“Me and Gabe like each other lots, so we don’t have to go to Flor’da now.”

One of the mothers came into the parking lot and glanced in Rachel’s direction. She fumbled with the key in the ignition. One more week . . .

Oh, Gabe . . . Why can’t you love my child for who he is? And why can’t you come to peace with Cherry’s ghost so you can love me, too?

She wanted to prop her head against the steering wheel and cry until she had no tears left, but if she gave in, she’d crumble into so many pieces she’d never be able to put herself back together again. And self-pity wouldn’t change the facts. Her son wasn’t going to grow up with a man who couldn’t tolerate him. And she wouldn’t live the rest of her life in another woman’s shadow. Before she left, however, there was something she had to do.

The Escort shuddered as she pulled from the parking lot. She took a deep breath and set off down Wynn Road toward the small web of streets that made up the poorest part of Salvation. She turned onto Orchard, a narrow, potholed lane that curved sharply up the side of a hill. Tiny one-story homes with crumbling front steps perched on barren, untended yards. An old Chevy sat on blocks at the side of one house, a rusted boat trailer near another.

The small, mint-green house at the end of Orchard was tidier than most of the others. The porch was swept and the yard neat. A basket of ivy geraniums hung from a hook near the front door.

Rachel parked on the street and climbed the uneven front walk. As she stepped onto the porch, she heard the sound of a game show coming from the television inside. The cracked door buzzer didn’t look operable, so she knocked instead.

A faded, but pretty, young woman appeared. Her short blond hair had a slightly brassy home-done look. She was small and thin, dressed in a cropped white sleeveless top and worn denim shorts that rode low on her narrow hips and showed her navel. She looked to be in her early thirties, but Rachel suspected she was younger. Something tired and wary in her expression made Rachel recognize a fellow traveler on life’s bumpier highway. “Are you Emily’s mother?”

When the woman nodded, Rachel introduced herself. “I’m Rachel Stone.”

“Oh.” She looked surprised. “My mother said you might stop by sometime, but I didn’t believe her.”

Rachel had dreaded this part of it. “It’s not about that. Your mother . . . She’s a lovely person, but . . .”

The woman smiled. “It’s all right. She has a lot more faith in miracles than I do. I’m sorry if she’s been bothering you, but her intentions are good.”

“I know they are. I wish I could help that way, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Come in anyway. I could use some company.” She pushed open the screen. “I’m Lisa.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Rachel stepped into a small living room overcrowded with a nubby beige sectional sofa, an old recliner, some end tables, and a television. The furniture was of good quality, but mismatched and worn in a way that made Rachel suspect the pieces came from Lisa’s mother.

On the left, a section of counter separated the kitchen from the living area, with the pair of wooden shutters designed to divide off the space folded accordion-style against the wall. The beige Formica counter held the familiar clutter of canisters, toaster, a wicker basket spilling over with paperwork, two ripe bananas, and a lidless Russell Stover candy box filled with broken crayons. As Rachel gazed around at the plain, homey surroundings, she wondered when she’d be able to afford even this much.

Lisa turned off the television and gestured toward the recliner. “Would you like a Coke? Or maybe coffee? Mom brought over some of her poppy-seed muffins yesterday.”

“No, thanks.”

Rachel settled in the recliner, and there was an awkward pause that neither of them quite knew how to bridge. Lisa swept up a copy of
Redbook
from the sofa and took a seat.

“How is your daughter?”