214 Palmer Street(67)
“Oh.” Sarah was taken aback. “I haven’t really decided on a name yet.”
“I really think you should name him Kirk. It would be such a great tribute to his father.” She put her hands together, a show of impassioned plea. “The Adens would be delighted. Promise you’ll think about it?”
Sarah caught the hopeful expression on her face and nodded. “All right, I promise.”
“Please don’t mention that I told you. I’d hate for Mrs. Aden to think I betrayed a confidence.”
“Not a word,” she said, miming the zippering of her mouth.
Moments later as the women drove off, they waved, and Sarah returned the gesture. When the car was out of sight, she closed the door, another chapter in her life put to rest.
FORTY-FIVE
We drove away from Sarah Aden’s ritzy upscale house, Mom sighing with contentment. I knew this exchange had brought her some measure of closure. As for me, not so much. I couldn’t help but notice that nothing in Sarah’s home looked like it needed updating or repairing. The walls were free of scuffs. The flooring could have been on display in a showroom. And then there was Sarah herself. Even pregnant and in the midst of packing, she’d looked calm and collected. Her pretty face was flushed pink with exertion, giving her a healthy glow. She was dressed casually, wearing jeans and a V-necked T-shirt, but still somehow managed to look elegant, ushering us inside with the grace of the First Lady at the White House.
She’d been so nice it was difficult to resent her. Not impossible, though.
When I saw her come out of the bomb shelter so many months ago, I was relieved it was her and not Kirk, or worse yet, Gavin. When everything came to light and the facts were finally made known, I was euphoric to know the truth and better yet, to know that two of the three suspects had met an untimely and gruesome death. A bit of poetic justice to balance out my family’s suffering. It seemed right that Gavin would be going to prison. The other inmates were going to love having him in their midst. For the first time, I felt a bit of peace, and some gratitude to Sarah Aden for her role in revealing what had happened to my brother. She’d done it at great personal cost to herself, not that I cared all that much about that aspect of it.
At one point, I thought I’d turned a corner. It wasn’t until Mom and I ran into Judy Aden at the grocery store that I knew that the corner was actually a circle and I’d never be clear of it. The two exchanged condolences and apologies while I stood there in aisle six, only half listening. Somehow, I’d become a bystander in my own life. Sure, I’d come to terms with what had happened to my brother and felt like a measure of justice had been meted out, but I still wasn’t ready to extend an olive branch. As I said, my mother was the more forgiving of the two of us.
In quick time, Judy and my mom had a conversation that covered all the years and laid all of the suffering to rest. I tapped my toe impatiently, distracted by an elderly woman standing behind Mom and Judy, surveying the spice shelves. They were arranged in alphabetical order, but judging from the way she searched the display, she wasn’t aware of this. My mind shifted from her when Mrs. Aden said, “I do have one piece of news, a bit of happiness in all of this: Sarah is having a baby.” She beamed. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I can’t seem to help myself. She’s nearly five months along.” She clasped her hands together in delight and I felt my blood boil.
“How wonderful!” Mom exclaimed, truly meaning it. “A grandchild. Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”
“A boy.” Judy Aden could not stop grinning. I wanted to smack her. “Bert and I can’t wait to hold the little guy. God is good.”
God is good.
I was running this earlier conversation through my brain when Mom’s voice floated over from the passenger seat. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Nothing really. Are you glad we stopped in?” I flicked on the turn signal and took a sharp right out of the subdivision.
“Very glad. I wanted her to know that despite everything I didn’t hate her and I wished her well. I didn’t want that sitting out there.”
Typical Mom. Always wanting to put positive energy out into the world. Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. “I’d say you accomplished that.”
“Just one question. When you ran back to the house, what did you say to her?”
I didn’t have to look at my mom to know her brow was furrowed, concerned I had dropped some kind of spite bomb. “You would be impressed at my good manners. I was very nice. Just thanked her for letting us drop by unannounced. Said that it was important to both of us.” I glanced in her direction. “Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure she’d let us past the front door.”
“I thought she would,” Mom said with certainty. “I just had a feeling.” I’d paused at a stop sign and now proceeded to cross the intersection. The movement must have seemed sudden because she reached out and grabbed the dashboard like she did when I had my learner’s permit and I’d accelerated too quickly. Old habits die hard.
For all of her insights, Mom never could have guessed what I’d actually told Sarah. Never in a million years. What I’d said was unplanned, and yet somehow as perfect as if I’d spent all night scheming to find a subtle, yet agonizing revenge.