The Winding Road Home (25 page)

“Well, it can wait.” She had already cleared the Ping-Pong table of food and tableware trash. “Shall I take down the crepe paper?”

“No. I'll let one of the kids do that on a slow day. I suppose we could have one.”

“Maybe now and then. Well, I'm bushed too. I guess it's time to call it—”

“He didn't come.”

“I know. Something probably came up.”

“Something always comes up. Something is going to come up tomorrow to cancel a certain outing that involves a plane.”

She went to him. “Tanner, don't do this to yourself.”

“What am I doing to myself? I think my dad took care of things quite nicely without my help. At least my mom had a good excuse. She's in Arizona.”

She grabbed his hands, pulled him behind the counter, and shoved him into a chair. “It's an old emotional tape you're playing.” She boosted herself atop the counter. “Let him go. Forgive him for all the times he's wronged you and for all the times he's going to again.”

“One good reason?”

“You're letting him ruin this perfectly perfect day. It's your new start, Tanner. Don't let him interfere. And besides, you're not so cute when you're feeling sorry for yourself.”
Whoops.

He smiled at her. “It's hard to let go of thirty years.”

“I can't imagine. But if you let him off the hook, you're really pulling out the hook that keeps cutting into your heart. I dare you to keep the date tomorrow. It'll be a tangible thing you can do to pull that hook out. How he treats you does not have to dictate what you do or how you feel.”

“I've tried.”

“Well, try again and stop whining.” She scooted off the counter. “Oh. You could pray about it too. There's no way on God's green earth that by your own power you can forgive a person who's hurt you like he has.”

He rubbed his jaw.

“I think we both just dared each other to go tomorrow. What do you say?”

“I don't know, Kate. This is a new one, daring to do the same thing. Who will pay for dinner?”

She laughed. “Let me at that cash register.”

Adele spent most of Saturday with Chelsea. The girl was full of questions about Greg Findley. She didn't seem to mind that the answers were 18 years old.

It was a painful journey for Adele, but she knew it was no longer avoidable. She hauled the ladder from the basement to the second floor hallway and climbed up it and through the attic opening. The shoe box was in the bottom of a larger box which was tucked beneath a stack of baby clothes. Neither box had been opened since she packed them when Chelsea was a toddler.

They sat together at the dining room table. Pushing aside mementos, Adele searched for what Chelsea would want to see first: the photo album. It was small and plain, the photo edges somewhat yellowed. Flipping the pages quickly, she went as if by reflex straight to the picture. It was the best one of Greg, alone, standing near a canal in Venice.

“Mom, he's cute!”

“Well, of course.” She studied the tall, laughing blond, more southern California surfer than San Franciscan. Yes, he had been a cute 21-year-old, though now she recognized the softness about his chin, a clue to his lack of character. At least she hadn't had to confront it every day. “But you know, Chels, I've always been grateful you resembled me.”

“Except for my ear.” She touched her left one where the ridge folded over slightly. “Look, you can see it on him.”

“Mm-hmm. And he was tall, like you. His eyes were bluer than ours.”

“How did you meet?”

Chelsea listened with rapt attention as Adele relayed an edited version of the story.

When it ended in Rome, Chelsea hugged her. “Thanks, Mom. This means so much to me, just to know. I should thank Graham too, don't you think?”

“Yes, I think so.”

And I owe him thanks as well as an apology.

Even as a teen, Graham Logan's chin would have been firm.

Late Saturday night, Graham sat in his drab furnished apartment, staring at four empty walls. Temporary surroundings never disturbed him all that much. To put up with uncomfortable chairs, a lumpy mattress, and a kitchen with few conveniences was not a hardship. He could tolerate almost anything for three months. On the other hand, being disconnected from Adele for three days was sheer torture.

He had purposely avoided her at the nursing home, determined to give her the space she needed. Should he call and risk further alienating her? Not only was time running out, he feared his chances of winning her over faded with each passing hour. Now that he knew what it was like to kiss her, he longed to commit to a relationship with her. Surely that longing was nothing short of a gift from God.

The whole problem with this assignment was letting his personal feelings get involved. Of course, he knew they were involved going into it. Rand had suspected as much, and it had fueled his determination which, in the end, was what had brought them to Valley Oaks.

Adele was as determined and as stubborn as Rand. She may not make the first move. She may not accept any first move he could make. What was the way to her heart? He assumed it had been Chelsea. That backfired. Roses? A ton of clay delivered to her door? Blueprints for a senior housing complex?

His cell phone rang. The caller ID displayed Adele's number. He breathed a prayer of thanks.

“Hello?”

“Graham?” It was the younger version of the lilting voice.

“Hi, Chelsea.”

“You recognized my voice! I just called to thank you for finding my dad.”

Whew.
She had told her. “You're welcome.”

“Maybe…maybe you could give me his phone number?”

“Of course.”

“Later. Mom wants to say hi now. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

There were muffled voices, and then hers, clear, the lilting subdued. “Graham? Hi. How are you?”

“Better since the phone rang.” Too strong. “How about yourself?”

“I'm okay. I…I want to apologize. You can say ‘I told you so' if you want.”

“I don't want to.”

“Well, you were right. Again. She needed to know. Thank you for forcing me into telling her.”

“I apologize for not asking you first. I overstepped the bounds by taking things into my own hands.”

“My guardian angel.”

“All right. I also apologize for that self-appointment.”

“Accepted.” There was a smile in her voice.

“Did the conversation go all right?”

“Yes. We didn't even need soup!”

“Pity. I would have come.”

“I know. Graham, I think I'm getting too used to you being here.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don't know yet.”

He closed his eyes. “May I see you tomorrow? I thought a drive up the river would be nice. Dinner.”

“I hate leaving Chelsea. You know how clingy she was the other night? I'm behaving like that. Something feels so tentative about life right now.”

Could she sense his unease, the impending dialogue? Still… “Adele, you've been overly anxious about this situation. Perhaps a few hours away is exactly what you need. I don't think you give yourself much time off, do you?”

She didn't reply.

“Please, give yourself a break. And me.”

“Give you a break?”

“I've missed you. Don't hang up.”

She didn't hang up, but neither did she answer.

“Sorry, Adele. I'll go do my grumbling in private. Why don't I call you in the morning? You can sleep on it.”

“I haven't slept in three nights. I'd better not sleep on any more unfinished business. I'll see you,” she whispered, “tomorrow.”

Kate suspected she had a problem with bravado. She didn't mean to portray it by accepting challenges willy-nilly. The fact of the matter was her faith had instilled in her the ability to readily accept anything thrown her way. She trusted God would cover for her. It added quite a bit of zing to her life by always saying yes. Nothing to worry about.

Except single-engine four-seater planes.

Bravado had nothing to do with it this time. Zing had nothing to do with it. Clever Tanner had turned what would have been an automatic “no” into a faith issue, leaving her no choice but to face her biggest fear.

God will cover for me.
Mantralike, the phrase replayed in her mind as she waited not far from the runway. The bright early afternoon sunshine didn't penetrate the khaki trench coat, her favorite spring outerwear, a hand-me-down from her father that usually enveloped her in comfort. Not today. From her innermost depths fear rendered her numb. She stood stiff as a board next to Tanner and met his dad's family while pointedly keeping her back to that
thing.

One glance had convinced her that
thing
was made of popsicle sticks and rubber bands and model glue. It could not have reached her height of 5'2”. And he referred to it as an
airplane.

Tanner excused himself now to complete his preflight tasks.

“Kate.” It was Dr. Carlucci. He was a mature version of Tanner, his hair still thick and black, though shorter and not moussed. “Have you ever flown in one of these before?”

She shook her head violently.

“You'll love it.”

Mm-hmm
.

“Just like riding in a car, but you can see the entire countryside. What a gorgeous day for flying.” He turned to the children, repeating something about seat belts.

Jenna, age eight, and Jake, ten, danced around, clearly thrilled at the prospect before them. Marnie, a tall slender woman with long, smooth blonde hair and a young face like Adele's, ran after little Sidney Jr., their three-year-old.

Kate hadn't slept well. She probably resembled a zombie. Horrifying visions of flying had filled her dreams…scenes of mountains suddenly appearing, of green hills rushing at her, of spiraling downward—

“Kate!”

“Huh?”

Tanner was in her face. “Ready?”

She shook her head.

He glanced at the others, smiling. “She's a little nervous.”

His dad said, “I'll strap the kids in.”

Tanner took her face in his hands and whispered, “Show me, Kate. Show me it's not all talk. He's with you, isn't He?”

She blinked until his face came into focus. “Jesus.” Her lips felt shot with novacaine.

“You'll come fly with me?”

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…

“Okay.”

He led her to the
thing
and helped her climb into it. The kids were grinning from their seats.

“Up front, Kate.”

She found her voice. “Maybe Jake wants it. He can—”

“Front seat is yours. It's a weight thing.”

She sat. And then she squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.
Thy rod and thy staff
— She balled her hands into tight fists pressed together on her lap.

She sensed Tanner pulling the safety belt around her, lifting her arms out of the way, clicking it into place.

“Here we go, kids!”

The engine started, drowning out everything but the crash of her heartbeat in her ears.

The sensation of careening came over her. She imagined them hurtling down the runway. Would they never lift off? How could they lift off?

Please, Lord, can You please just make it quick? I don't mind coming Home, I really don't.

A hand touched her shoulder. She peeked at him.

He sat on her left, nearer to her than when they were in his car. He was grinning, his cheeks cupped by a headset. He pointed forward.

Behind his head she saw blue sky.

They were off the ground?

He took hold of her chin and gently nudged her face frontwards.

Her heart leapt and a whimper escaped her throat.

And then a brand-new world burst into existence, imprinting itself on her vision. The resplendence of creation flooded her, spilling over onto her tongue. Her delighted laughter was a hymn of praise to the One whose hand had made it all.

Adele slipped her arm through Graham's, relishing in his closeness. They sat side by side atop a picnic table, their feet perched on the bench seat. The deserted park was located on a bluff overlooking the river. Sunlight danced on the distant silver gray water. Surrounding brown hills were covered with bare-limbed trees that seemed out of place. Though it was only the first of April, with the record-breaking 70-degree weather it seemed they should be loaded with spring green foliage.

He placed his hand over hers.

Her heart still occasionally did its funny little foxtrot number in her throat. Like now, when his physical presence overwhelmed her… Or when she thought of how quickly they had grown close… Or when she thought of what she didn't yet know about him…

She had never been in love before. Was that what it was? Or had she just signed up for heartache? How was she supposed to know?

He kissed the top of her head. “A penny for your thoughts.”

“I'm thinking how on earth can a woman reach my age and be so naïve?”