Hadley & Grace(80)
Skipper’s face lights up. “When can I get the uniform?”
Hadley blinks in amazement. In less than thirty seconds, Jimmy has managed to accomplish what she and Grace have been trying to accomplish for days.
“We just need to find a store that sells them,” Jimmy says; then he winks at Hadley as he turns back in his seat, letting her know he planned this, and her admiration grows.
He pulls back to the entrance of the mall, then jumps out to help Grace with the car seat she’s bought. He straps it in beside Skipper. “Private, make sure that’s buckled in tight,” he orders.
“Yes, sir,” Skipper says, responding exactly how Jimmy told him you need to respond when an officer addresses you.
Grace hands Miles to Jimmy, and Jimmy takes a second to hold him at face level and nuzzle his nose. Miles squirms and squeals, and Jimmy does it again and again, his face radiant with love, and the last of Hadley’s resistance dissolves. Jimmy might have screwed up, he might even be a screwup, but it’s hard to not like someone who glows with so much devotion for his baby and his wife that it hurts to look at him.
57
GRACE
Grace stands outside the restaurant across from the army-surplus store looking out at the barren prairie that sprawls in front of her. Gone are the soaring pines and mountains, replaced with sun-scorched landscape that stretches to the horizon.
Her head aches, her heart too, everything, all of what has happened and is happening overwhelming her. She didn’t want Jimmy to come, but now that he is here—solid, real, and certain—it’s so tempting to let her guard down and fall into her old ways. To forgive him, give up control, and trust him when he says he is sorry and that it will never happen again. It’s the best and worst part about Jimmy, how good he is and how easy it is to put your faith in him, mistakenly believing he will never let you down, a trust that is broken every time. Because, despite his failings—failing, she reminds herself, singular: one single, debilitating weakness—his love is real. And each time he looks at her with those gold eyes, the ice on her heart melts a little more.
Yesterday, she believed they had a chance, thin but possible. But today, though they continue to go through the motions—driving toward Omaha, pretending she’s getting on a plane with Skipper and Miles—she knows the chances of her going anywhere other than prison are pretty much gone.
Even as she stands here, in the middle of nowhere, she is certain someone will recognize them. Their story is being broadcast coast to coast, all of America watching as the drama unfolds, as if it is great entertainment, gripping reality television without the producers or hype: Two renegade moms on the run from the law with their kids in tow; FBI agents being gunned down in front of baseball stadiums; teenage girls being kidnapped by their crazed dads. All of it juicy and irresistible. Unbelievable, she’d think, were it not happening to them.
Having Jimmy along makes them slightly less conspicuous. No one knows he has joined them, and looking at them, with Jimmy confidently taking up space in his uniform, they look more like a military family enjoying having their soldier home than famous fugitives on the run. But at some point, someone is going to figure it out, and the jig will be up.
Hadley, Skipper, and Jimmy walk from the store, Jimmy bouncing Miles in the crook of his arm as Miles laughs, a great throaty chortle that seems to get more boisterous with each passing day. Skipper struts beside them in his new “uniform,” proud as a peacock showing off new plumes. He wears camo pants, a camo jacket, a camo hat, and brown boots. It’s very gung ho, super-Rambo, but Skipper’s crooked smile and ambling way lessens the severity, and it’s hard to take it any way other than a little boy’s idolization of a soldier.
Her eyes well with fresh tears as she thinks about how beautifully Jimmy has orchestrated Skipper’s change of heart. He’s always had a gift for getting along with people—old, young, it doesn’t matter. He just takes his time with them, shows extraordinary kindness and patience, and the next thing you know, he’s their new best friend.
Hadley walks on his other side, smiling at something he is saying.
Traitor, Grace thinks, while at the same time feeling grateful. It’s the first time she’s seen Hadley smile since Mark was shot and Mattie was taken away. For the past day, Grace has watched Hadley drift in and out of shock, intermittently despondent and manic, dazed one minute, then chain-smoking and crying the next.
Almost as if realizing she’s smiled and is feeling bad about it, Hadley stops, and her eyes dart around to see if anyone’s noticed. Grace looks away so she won’t know that she did.
She wants to tell her it’s okay. Smiling doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. It’s only a symptom of life carrying on, which inevitably it does. No matter how cataclysmic the events, and even in light of the worst tragedies, hearts continue to beat, lungs continue to draw air, and sometimes things continue to be funny.
Some pain changes you, alters you permanently and tattoos your soul. “Forever pain,” her grandmother called it, but amazingly you still live through it. And eventually, even forever pain recedes and grows less sharp. You wake up one day to discover it no longer fills every corner of your mind. It’s still there, lurking in the background, but it’s less present and pronounced, a throb deep within you that almost takes focus to feel.