One Summer (3 page)

She put a hand to her eyes. “If I think about things like that, then it means, I don’t want to… You might…”

He held her. “Things will work out all right. Just take it
slow. And be happy.” He made her look at him, and he brushed the tears from her eyes. He took a long pull on his oxygen and managed a grin. “And for God’s sake, don’t pick Bill.”

She laughed. And then it turned into a sob as he held her.

When they pulled away a few moments later, Lizzie wiped her nose with a tissue and said, “I was actually thinking about next summer. And I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Jack’s heart was buoyed by the fact that she still sought out his opinion. “What about it?”

“You’ll probably think it’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I was thinking I would take the kids to the Palace.”

“The Palace? You haven’t been back there since—”

“I know. I know. I just think it’s time. It’s in bad shape from what I heard. I know it needs a lot of work. But just for one summer it should be fine.”

“I know how hard that was for you.”

She reached in her pocket and pulled out a photo. She showed it to Jack. “Haven’t looked at that in years. Do you remember me showing it to you?”

It was a photo of the O’Tooles when the kids were all little.

“That’s Tillie next to you. Your twin sister.”

“Mom said she never could tell us apart.”

Jack had to sit back against his pillow and drew several long breaths on his line while Lizzie patiently waited.

Finally he said, “She was five when she died?”

“Almost six. Meningitis. Nothing the doctors could do.” She glanced briefly at Jack, and then looked away. Her unspoken thought could have been,
Just like you.

“I remember my parents telling me that Tillie had gone to
Heaven.” She smiled at the same time a couple of tears slid down her cheeks. “There’s an old lighthouse on the property down there. It was so beautiful.”

“I remember you telling me about it. Your grandmother… still owns the Palace, right?”

“Yes. I was going to ask her if it would be all right if we went down there this summer.”

“The O’Tooles exchanging the sunny ocean for cold Cleveland?” He coughed several times, and Lizzie went to adjust his air level. When she did so he started breathing easier.

She said, “Well, I think leaving the Palace was because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never really told you about this before, and maybe I’d forgotten it myself. But I’ve been thinking about Tillie lately.” She faltered.

“Lizzie, please tell me.”

She turned to face him. “When my parents told me my sister had gone to Heaven, I… I wanted to find her. I didn’t really understand that she was dead. I knew that Heaven was in the sky. So I started looking for, well, looking for Heaven to find Tillie.”

“You were just a little kid.”

“I would go up in the lighthouse. Back then it still worked. And I’d look for Heaven, for Tillie really, with the help of the light.” She paused and let out a little sob. “Never found either one.”

Jack held her. “It’s okay, Lizzie; it’s okay,” he said softly.

She wiped her eyes on his shirt and said, “It became a sort of obsession, I guess. I don’t know why. But every day that went by and I couldn’t find her, it just hurt so bad. And when
I got older, my parents told me that Tillie was dead. Well, it didn’t help much.” She paused. “I can’t believe I never told you all this before. But I guess I was a little ashamed.”

His wife’s distress was taking a toll on Jack. He breathed deeply for several seconds before saying, “You lost your twin. You were just a little kid.”

“By the time we moved to Ohio, I knew I would never find her by looking at the sky. I knew she was gone. And the lighthouse wasn’t working anymore anyway. But I think my parents, my mom especially, wanted to get me away from the place. She didn’t think it was good for me. But it was just… silly.”

“It was what you were feeling, Lizzie.” He touched his chest. “Here.”

“I know. So I thought I’d go back there. See the place. Let the kids experience how I grew up.” She looked at him.

“Great idea,” Jack gasped.

She rubbed his shoulder. “You might enjoy it too. You could really fix the place up. Even make the lighthouse work again.” It was so evident she desperately wanted to believe this could actually happen.

He attempted a smile. “Yeah.”

The looks on both their faces were clear despite the hopeful words.

Jack would never see the Palace.

Later that night his father-in-law helped Jack into a wheelchair and rolled him into the living room, where their little tree stood. It was silver tinsel with blue and red ornaments. Jack usually got a real tree for Christmas, but not this year of course.

The kids had hot chocolate and some snacks. Mikki even played a few carols on her guitar, though she looked totally embarrassed doing so. Cory told his dad about the play, and Lizzie bustled around making sure everyone had everything they needed. Then she played the DVD for Jack so he could see the performance for himself. Finally his in-laws prepared to leave. The ice was getting worse and they wanted to get home, they said. Lizzie’s father helped Jack into bed.

At the front door Lizzie gave them each a hug. Jack heard Bonnie tell her daughter to just hang in there. It was always darkest before the dawn.

“The kids are the most important thing,” said her dad. “Afterward, we’ll be right here for you.”

Next, Jack heard Lizzie say, “I was thinking about talking to Cee,” referring to her grandmother Cecilia.

“About what?” Bonnie said quickly, in a wary tone.

“Next summer I was thinking of taking the kids to the Palace, maybe for the entire summer break. I wanted to make sure Cee would be okay with that.”

There were a few moments of silence; then Bonnie said, “The Palace! Lizzie, you know—”

“Mom, don’t.”

“This is not something you need, certainly not right now. It’s too painful.”

“That was a long time ago,” Lizzie said quietly. “It’s different now. It’s okay. I’m okay. I have been for a long time, actually, if you’d ever taken the time to notice.”

“It’s never long enough,” her mother shot back.

“Let’s not discuss it tonight. Not tonight,” said Lizzie.

After her parents left, Jack listened as his wife’s footsteps came his way. Lizzie appeared in the doorway. “That was a nice Christmas Eve.”

He nodded his head dumbly, his gaze never leaving her face. The tick of the clock next to his bed pounded fiercely in Jack’s head.

“Don’t let her talk you out of going to the Palace, Lizzie. Stick to your guns.”

“My mother can be a little…”

“I know. But promise me you’ll go?”

She nodded, smiled. “Okay, I promise. Do you need anything else?” she asked.

Jack looked at the clock and motioned to the access line below his collarbone, where his pain meds were administered.

“Oh my gosh. Your meds. Okay.” She started to the small
cabinet in the corner where she kept his medications. But then Lizzie stopped, looking slightly panicked.

“I forgot to pick up your prescription today. The play and… I forgot to get them.” She checked her watch. “They’re still open. I’ll go get them now.”

“Don’t go. I’m okay without the meds.”

“It’ll just take a few minutes. I’ll be back in no time. And then it’ll just be you and me. I want to talk to you some more about next summer.”

“Lizzie, you don’t have to—”

But she was already gone.

The front door slammed. The van started up and raced down the street.

Later Jack woke, confused. He turned slowly to find Mikki dozing in the chair next to his bed. She must have come downstairs while he was asleep. He looked out the window. There were streams of light whizzing past his house. For a moment he had the absurd notion that Santa Claus had just arrived. Then he tried to sit up because he heard it. Sounds on the roof.

Reindeer?
What the hell was going on?

The sounds came again. Only now he realized they weren’t on the roof. Someone was pounding on the front door.

“Mom? Dad?” It was Cory. His voice grew closer. His head poked in the den. He was dressed in boxer shorts and a T-shirt and looked nervous. “There’s someone at the door.”

By now Mikki had woken. She stretched and saw Cory standing there.

“Someone’s at the front door,” her brother said again.

Mikki looked at her dad. He was staring out at the swirl of lights. It was like a spaceship was landing on their front lawn.
In Cleveland?
Jack thought he was hallucinating. Yet when he
looked at Mikki, it was clear that she saw the lights too. Jack raised a hand and pointed at the front door. He nodded to his daughter.

Looking scared, she hurried to the door and opened it. The man was big, dressed in a uniform, and had a gun on his belt. He looked cold, tired, and uncomfortable. Mostly uncomfortable.

“Is your dad home?” he asked Mikki. She backed away and pointed toward the den. The police officer stamped off his boots and stepped in. The squeak of his gun belt sounded like a scream in miniature. He walked where Mikki was pointing, saw Jack in the bed with the lines hooked to him, and muttered something under his breath. He looked at Mikki and Cory. “Can he understand? I mean, is he real sick?”

Mikki said, “He’s sick, but he can understand.”

The cop drew next to the bed. Jack lifted himself up on his elbows. He was gasping. In his anxiety, his withered lungs were demanding so much air the converter couldn’t keep up.

The officer swallowed hard. “Mr. Armstrong?” He paused as Jack stared up at him. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident involving your wife.”

Jack sat strapped into a wheelchair staring up at his wife’s coffin. Mikki and Cory sat next to him. Jackie had been deemed too young to attend his mother’s funeral; he was being taken care of by a neighbor. The priest came down and gave Jack and his children holy communion. Jack nearly choked on the host but finally managed to swallow it. Ironically, it was the first solid food he’d had in months.

At my wife’s funeral.

The weather was cold, the sky puffy with clouds. The wind cleaved the thickest coats. The roads were still iced and treacherous. They’d been driven to the cemetery in the funeral home sedan designated for family members. His father-in-law, Fred, rode up front, next to the driver, while he and the kids were squeezed in the back with Bonnie. She had barely uttered a word since learning her youngest daughter had been instantly killed when her van ran a red light and was broadsided by an oncoming snowplow.

The graveside service was mercifully brief; the priest seemed
to understand that if he didn’t hustle things along, some of the older people might not survive the event.

Jack looked over at Mikki. She’d pinned her hair back and put on a black dress that hung below her knees; she sat staring vacantly at the coffin. Cory had not looked at the casket even once. As a final act, Jack was wheeled up to the coffin. He put his hand on top of it, mumbled a few words, and sat back, feeling totally disoriented. He had played this scene out in his head a hundred times. Only he was in the box and it was Lizzie out here saying good-bye. Nothing about this was right. He felt like he was staring at the world upside down.

“I’ll be with you soon, Lizzie,” he said in a halting voice. The words seemed hollow, forced, but he could think of nothing else to say.

As he started to collapse, a strong hand gripped him.

“It’s okay, Jack. We’ll get you back to the car now.” He looked up into the face of Sammy Duvall.

Sammy proceeded to maneuver him to the sedan in record time. Before closing the door, he put a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll always be there for you, buddy.”

They were driven home, the absence of Lizzie in their midst a festering wound that had no possible healing ointment. Jackie was brought home, and people stopped by with plates of food. An impromptu wake was held; devastated folks chatted in low tones. More than once Jack caught people gazing at him, no doubt thinking,
My God, what now?

Jack was thinking the same thing.
What now?

Two hours later the house was empty except for Jack, the kids, and his in-laws. The children instantly disappeared. Minutes later Jack could hear guitar strumming coming from Mikki’s bedroom, the tunes melancholy and abbreviated.
Cory and Jackie shared a bedroom, but no sound was coming from them. Jack could imagine Cory quietly sobbing, while a confused Jackie attempted to comfort him.

Bonnie and Fred O’Toole looked as disoriented as Jack felt. They had signed on to help their healthy daughter transition with her kids to being a widow and then getting on with her life. Without the buffer that Lizzie had been, Jack could focus now on the fact that his relationship with his in-laws had been largely superficial.

Fred was a big man with a waistline large enough to portend a host of health problems down the road. He tended to defer to his wife in all things other than sports and selling cars, which was the line of work that had brought him to Cleveland. He was a man who would prefer to look at the floor rather than in your eye, unless he was trying to sell you the latest Ford F-150. Then he could be animated enough, at least until you signed on the dotted line and the financing cleared.

Bonnie was shorter than her daughter. The mother of four grown children, she was now well into her sixties, and her figure had lost its shape. Her waist and hips had turned into a solid wall of flesh. Her hair was white, cut short and rather brutally, and her eyeglasses filled most of her square face. Fred kept sighing, rubbing his big hands over his pressed suit pants, as though attempting to rub some dirt off his fingers. Bonnie, who had kept on her black outfit, was sitting very still on the couch, her gaze aimed at a corner of the ceiling but apparently not actually registering on it.

Fred sighed again, and this seemed to rouse Bonnie.

“Well,” she said. “Well,” she said again. Fred eyed her, as did Jack.

She looked over and gave Jack a quick glance that was undecipherable.