Woman in Black (26 page)

Lila was the first to break the silence. “This will be a nice surprise for Neal. He was asking about a tree, just this morning as a matter of fact.” She felt the need to remind Karim that this outing wasn't strictly recreational. She didn't want him reading any more into this, which was a distinct possibility, as she'd sensed that his interest in her was more than friendly. Not that she didn't find him attractive, but in her current state, she wasn't remotely equipped to handle anything beyond this. Even so, at the thought of something more intimate developing between them, she felt herself grow warm inside the cocoon of her jacket.

“He's a good boy, your son,” Karim observed, walking just ahead of her along the path, toting his chain saw. In his parka and knit cap, from which tight black coils of hair escaped, he might have been a Sherpa leading the way through an icy Himalayan pass.

“Yes, he is.” Lila was happy to know that there was enough of the old Neal left for others to see.

“And you,” Karim paused, turning to give her a searching look, “are a good mother.”

He seemed to be reassuring her somehow. Had he picked up on the strain between her and Neal?

“I'm not so sure,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” They'd reached a small clearing, and he slowed his steps so that they were walking side by side.

“It's just that I can't seem to give him what he needs right now,” she said with a sigh. It was easy to confide in Karim; he was such a good listener, she found herself telling him things that until now she'd confided only to Vaughn. “I know he's grieving, but he won't talk to me about it. It's like he's lost sight of the fact that we're in this together, and now I've become part of the problem somehow. And who knows? Maybe he's right. Maybe I
am
part of the problem. If I'd made a career for myself instead of relying on my husband to support me, we wouldn't be in this predicament. I'd be an executive in some firm, not scrubbing toilets and mopping floors for other people.”

Karim gave a thoughtful nod, suggesting, “Perhaps this is just Neal's way of coping with his grief.”

“By reminding me of what a failure I am?”

He went on to explain, “In my country, the eldest son becomes head of the household when a father dies. This can be a heavy burden for one as young as your son. And even if it's only in his mind, perhaps it's more than he can handle right now and that's why he's attempting to distance himself.”

“Maybe. But how would I know what he's feeling if he won't talk to me?”

“Give it time,” Karim advised. “Perhaps something good will come of all this eventually.”

“Like what? Right now, I can't think of anything remotely positive about this experience.”

He turned to smile at her. “The Koran instructs us to be patient when studying the word of Allah, as the revelation is only gradually presented to us. The same is true in life. However hard one's circumstances, there's always something to be learned from them, something which reveals itself slowly over time and which will illuminate the path to the future.”

“That all sounds pretty mystical,” she said. “Right now, I'd settle for a kind word and a good-night kiss now and then.” It wasn't that Neal didn't give her those things on occasion, but these days when he did, it seemed more force of habit than anything.

“When I first arrived in this country, I, like you, was filled with doubt and despair,” he told her. “I didn't know if I would ever again see my family or my homeland, or if I would be able to teach again. I saw little purpose in life. Then my sister Soraya wrote in one of her letters that I'd given them all hope. I realized then what my purpose was: to shine a light where there had been only darkness. It wasn't a great, fiery revelation, but it was enough to keep me going until I could find reasons of my own for continuing on.”

Lila mulled over his words as they made their way through the clearing. At one point, she wobbled a bit where the deeper snow made her progress less steady, and when he offered her his arm, she clung to it, acutely aware of his corded muscles even beneath several layers of heavy clothing. As soon as they reached the edge of the clearing, she let go of his arm.

“I don't know if there's a purpose to all this,” she reflected aloud, “but if there is, it might have something to do with Abby and me.”

He slowed his steps, eyeing her curiously. “How so?”

“We were friends growing up. Did she ever tell you that?”

Karim shook his head. He had to be the one person in the country, Lila thought, who hadn't either watched or read about the
A.M. America
segment in which Abigail had been cornered into defending her. Knowing him, he probably didn't even own a TV.

“Years ago, we had a falling-out,” she explained. “I did something for which Abby's never really forgiven me. That's why she gave me this job, as a form of punishment. So, yes, maybe this is my destiny. I don't get to pass Go or collect my two hundred dollars until it's resolved.”

If the news that she and Abigail had a history together came as a surprise, it didn't show on his face. His expression was more that of someone for whom a missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Clearly it hadn't escaped his attention how tense things were with her and Abigail.

“Some say that friends and enemies are flip sides of the same coin,” he commented.

She sighed. “In that case, I guess we're stuck with each other.”

It wasn't all bad, she had to admit to herself. They were on the same side in one sense: They both cared deeply about Vaughn. Once Lila had gotten over her reluctance to let Abigail know his whereabouts, she'd had to concede, albeit grudgingly, that having Abigail back in his life was a good thing for Vaughn. The last time Lila had gone to visit him, he'd been more upbeat than usual. When she'd asked him why he was in such a good mood, he'd smiled secretively and said, “If I told you, you'd only accuse me of being a traitor.” Instead, Lila had been left feeling petty and vindictive for having tried to stand in the way. If being around Abigail could perk him up this much, who was she to object?

“So what was this unforgivable crime you committed?” Karim asked, in the tone of someone who found it hard to believe she was capable of anything more malicious than a catty remark.

She hesitated before answering, “Do you know the story of Judas Iscariot?”

He nodded. “
Have not I chosen you twelve; and one of you is a devil?
” he quoted from the Gospel of St. John. Lila must have looked surprised that he knew so much about Christianity, for he explained with a smile, “I may be a Muslim, but I'm also a scholar. I've studied other religions. So, yes, I know about Judas Iscariot. He was the disciple who betrayed Jesus.”

“That's how it was with Abby and me,” she told him. “Her mother worked for us all the years I was growing up. She and Abby were part of the family—Abby was like the sister I never had. Then one day out of the blue, my mom accused Rosie of stealing and, just like that, they were gone. My crime was that I didn't know who to believe until it was too late.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“Old enough to know better.” Lila experienced a knife twist of the old guilt. “I was so ashamed, I couldn't even write to Abby to tell her how sorry I was. And the more time went by, the more difficult it became to pick up that pen. Now it's much too late.”

“To tell her you're sorry? Or for her to forgive you?”

“Both.” Lila heaved a deep sigh. “It's hard to say you're sorry when you know your apology won't be accepted. I've tried. Let's just say it didn't go very well.”

He fell silent for a moment. There was only the plume of his breath trailing in the frosty air. “Forgiveness can be difficult,” he said at last. “It requires a belief in the other party's sincerity, I suppose.”

Lila was left pondering his words. Had she truly given Abigail an opportunity to forgive her? The one time she'd offered an apology, it couldn't have sounded too sincere, especially since it had come at a time when, as Vaughn had so aptly put it, it must have seemed self-serving. On the other hand, Abigail hadn't exactly made it easy for her. Given how beaten down Lila was already, would it have hurt Abigail to show her a little sympathy? Hadn't she suffered enough already?

The cathedral-like hush of the woods was broken when a laden branch released its load onto the path just ahead of them with a muffled thud that startled a flock of starlings into a cacophony of scolding. Karim tramped through the clotted snow to clear a path for her, and they continued on their way.

They were cresting the hill when she spotted it: the perfect tree. A Douglas fir, not too big and not too small, its branches densely packed and graduated to form an even, conical shape. Minutes later, the woods were echoing with the buzz of the chain saw. It was a young tree, hardly more than a sapling, so it came down easily. Karim bundled its branches with a length of twine and together, each holding one end, they carried it down the slope.

Back at the house, he found an old tree stand in the garage and helped her set it up. When the tree was finally in place, squeezed into a corner of her living room, they stood back to admire it.

“It's a fine tree,” he remarked.

“It is, isn't it?” With the scent of evergreen filling the room, Lila felt her nascent holiday spirit stir back to life. She turned to Karim with a smile, saying, “I feel a little funny thanking a Muslim for giving me back my Christmas spirit, so let's just say I owe you one.”

“Not at all. It was my pleasure.” He laid a hand on her arm, as if in emphasis, and though his touch was light and in no way suggestive, a shiver went through her. It might have been her bare skin he was touching. She shifted her body so that she was facing away from him, and brought her gaze back to the tree.

“Now all it needs is ornaments. I'm thinking fairy lights and maybe some of those transparent glass bulbs,” she said. “I just wish I still had my old decorations. But I'm afraid they got lost in the shuffle when we moved.”

“The drugstore on Main Street stays open on Sundays,” he informed her. “The last time I was in there, they had decorations for sale. I could drive you into town, if you like.”

She was tempted to accept but decided against it. Hadn't he done enough already? Besides, she knew she would need some time alone to digest these new and unwanted feelings he'd awakened in her before she could risk going off with him again so soon. “Thanks. I appreciate it. But I have some stuff to do around here,” she lied.

After he had left, she collapsed onto the sofa with a groan. Her Christmas spirit had returned, yes, and with it emotions that she had thought she'd buried along with Gordon: the desire to be made love to, the need to feel wanted. And what, pray tell, was she supposed to
do
with these emotions when they were about as welcome as mistletoe at a wake? Especially since it had become obvious to her that it wasn't one-sided.

Neal Slid the
hot panini onto a paper plate. Without looking up, he asked the next customer in line, “What'll it be?”

“A small Diet Coke.”

The voice was familiar, and when Neal brought his head up to hand over the panini, he saw that it belonged to Phoebe Whittaker. His next-door neighbor, so to speak. Since their brief introduction, he'd only caught glimpses of her as she was heading off to school in her dad's vintage Mercedes coupe, with Dr. Whittaker at the wheel, or going somewhere in her own little red Jetta. (Not that he'd been spying on her, but living over the garage, it was hard not to notice the family's comings and goings.) Now he took note of her appearance. Up close, he could see how thin she was—a sliver of a girl who looked as if she hadn't had a decent meal in months and who dressed as if she'd just come from picking up trash along the highway. He never would have guessed her parents were wealthy if his mother hadn't worked for them.

At the thought, Neal experienced the little inner jolt he always did when reminded that he was no longer a child of privilege himself. But he flashed Phoebe a smile, acutely aware of the fact that her parents were the only reason he and his mom had a roof over their heads.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “I didn't know you ate here.”
Lame
, he thought. But he hadn't been able to think of anything more clever.

“I didn't know you worked here,” she said, eyeing him across the counter with a flat, unsmiling gaze.

Neal bristled. So that was how little Miss Snot-Nose was going to play it? Fine. It was no skin off him. “You want anything with that Coke?” he asked in a more businesslike tone.

“What have you got?”

“The panini special is good if you like gorgonzola.”

“I hate gorgonzola.”

“You can have it with any kind of cheese.”

“Just the Coke, please,” she said in a snippy tone.

Neal grew even angrier. Who the hell was she to act so high and mighty? The fact that his mom worked for hers didn't mean she was better than he. It was a mere accident of fate, a throw of the dice. “Coming right up.” He grabbed a cup and filled it under the spigot. “That'll be a dollar eighty.” He shoved the cup across the counter as if he couldn't get rid of it—and her—fast enough.

She looked a little startled by this sudden show of hostility, and she fumbled a bit as she was digging the change from her purse. The coins slipped from her fingers, scattering over the counter, a few of them rolling onto the floor. As she bent to retrieve them, he saw that her cheeks were flushed.

Suddenly he felt bad for taking his anger out on her. She might be a snot-nosed brat, but it wasn't her fault that his life sucked.

“Sorry,” she muttered when he came out from behind the counter to lend her a hand. “I'm not usually this clumsy.”