The Seat Beside Me (42 page)

“But Henry didn’t save George,” Anthony said. “He was the only one of us your husband didn’t save.” Anthony received dirty looks from the others. “Well, it’s true.”

George waved away their looks. “Henry didn’t save me from the water, but let me tell you, Henry Smith
did
save me. He saved me from myself.” He looked around the room nervously, with a special glance to Suzy at his side, then set his shoulders. “I was heading to Phoenix to kill myself.”

A flurry of gasps filled the air.

George waved away their shock. “But in talking with Henry on the plane … even though I didn’t admit it at the time, I now know that Henry sold me on life
before
the crash. If we’d ever gotten to Phoenix, I don’t believe I would have gone through with it—because of him.”

Merry put a hand on his arm. “Just as you’ve tried to sell me on life.”

He looked into her eyes intently. “Tried?”

Her eyes were sad. “I have a ways to go.”

Tina raised a hand. “George is the perfect one who should testify with Ellen. It fits.”

“Should we be surprised?” Sonja said.

“Then I accept Ellen’s offer,” George said. He put an arm around Suzy and squeezed her shoulders. “Guess I have another reason for living, don’t I? I think this calls for a celebration. Let’s eat.”

Epilogue

“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”
H
EBREWS
13:5

G
eorge wiped dishes while Ellen washed and Suzy put away. It felt good to have a woman in the kitchen again. The evening had been a huge success. After eating, George stood alone near the kitchen listening to the stories being exchanged—while Dora took copious notes. Stories of fear, pain, doubt, and utter triumph. He didn’t know if these people would stay in touch after Dora’s book was finished, but perhaps that didn’t matter. What mattered was that their lives
had
touched. For a short period of time these five lives had met in the icy water and had been united by Henry Smith and by the God who had sent him to help—a God whom George would have to get to know better.

Ellen finished the last dish and wiped her hands. “Now that that’s done … I have something for you, George.” She went into the den, retrieved her purse, and secretly pulled something out. Then she extended a closed hand toward his. He held up his hand to receive the offering, and she dropped a gold watch into his palm.

“What’s this?”

“A little present. From Henry.”

Then George recognized the waterproof, shatterproof watch with four time zones. It was still working. The last time he’d seen it was on Henry’s wrist. “I can’t take this.”

“I want you to have it. Ever since I came to take Henry home, I’ve been carrying it around in my purse. But tonight, after what
you said, after what you agreed to do.” She closed his fingers around the watch. “It will be a sign of the partnership between us. Between the three of us—the four of us. Let’s not forget God.”

He smiled. “Nope. Let’s not forget God. After all, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ ”

“Our way and His way.”

George pulled Henry’s watch to his chest. “Amen to that.”

Back home, Merry couldn’t bring herself to clean up the mess caused by her tirade. Seeing the destruction of the living room was evidence of the tightrope she walked between craziness and sanity, between wallowing in her grief and moving on.

For a long time, she knew she would be walking through the moments of her life with great care. She knew she could call George if she needed him and, for that matter, any of the others. But she didn’t want to need people. She didn’t want to be a bother.

The truth was, without her family to take care of, she didn’t have anything to do.

The phone rang. It was her mother. “How you doing, baby?”

She hated that question. She despised that question because it forced her to lie. “I’m fine.”

“Have you written the thank-you notes yet? Aunt Claudia called and asked me if you had gotten the azalea they’d sent.”

Merry glanced toward the kitchen where she remembered seeing a box of thank-you notes handily provided by the funeral home. “I’m working on it.”

“Good girl. You always were good about that sort of thing. Would you like help?”

“No!” She toned down her voice. “No, I’ve got it covered, Mom.”

“I know you do, Merry. You’re a strong woman.”

Funny, I don’t feel very strong
.

“There are so many people to thank,” her mom said. “I wish we could write notes to all the rescuers on the shore, the emergency people, the ones who saved your life. I will never forget the sight of those helicopter men, Floyd and Hugh, pulling you and Justin up, dangling on that lifeline. Those men risked their lives for—”

“Their names were Floyd and Hugh?”

“Sure. Floyd Calbert. And the pilot’s name was Hugh Johnson.”

Why have I never asked their names before?
She shook her head, suddenly appalled at her oversight. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

Thoughts assailed her. She needed to get off the phone. “Gotta go, Mom. I have work to do.”

“But baby—”

Merry hung up and stared at the phone. At her hand on the phone. At the table that housed the phone. At the living room that held the table.

“I never said thank you.”

She rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the box of thank-you notes and a pen. She sat at the kitchen table, flipped off the box’s lid, and removed one. She opened it and stared at the blank page for only a moment.
Dear Mr. Calbert. I have been negligent in not contacting you and thanking you for your bravery
 …

The words of appreciation flowed. Merry finished one, then immediately started another. And another. And another.

For the first time since the accident, Merry found a reason for going on.

Gratitude.

She’d need another box.

Anthony called Lissa into his office. He’d never been nervous in her presence before, but then he never had to ask her such a question before.

She followed him inside. “Can we do this later, Doctor? Mrs. Greene has a one-thirty, and you know how huffy she gets if we keep her waiting. Plus I know you have an appointment with your lawyer at—” She stopped talking as he closed the door behind them. “Hey? What’s going on? Alone in your office. The door closed. People will talk—at least Candy will—”

“Will you be quiet just one minute?” He moved behind his desk and indicated that she should sit in the guest chair.

“Goodness. You certainly have piqued my interest.”

“Finally.” He picked up a pen, then realized he had no use for it. He put it down. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for all you’ve done for me since the crash. Taking me home from the hospital, making me dinner, coming over to my house when the lawsuit hit, talking to me about … stuff.”

“Is
stuff
a technical term, Doctor?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Maybe.” She crossed her legs and leaned closer. “But why don’t you make it perfectly clear what stuff we’re talking about.”

She was insufferable. “God-stuff, okay?”

She smiled. “Gotcha. And you’re welcome. But would you care to tell me how things are on that front?”

He grinned. Two could play at this. “On what front?”

She groaned. “The God front.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Let’s just say that I know I’m not Him. That’s a good start, isn’t it?”

“Excellent start. But there’s so much more.”

He nodded. Now came the hard part. “I understand that. And to be honest, I don’t know where to start. That’s where you come in.”

“I’m listening.”

His stomach tightened.
This is ridiculous. I’m her boss. I’m her superior
.

But not in this
 … 
not in this
.

“Would you meet with me, Lissa? Maybe … teach me?”

Her grin was ridiculously happy. “Hallelujah!”

“Hey, don’t go overboard.”

She headed for the door. “Oh no, Anthony. There’s no stopping me now. The floodgates have been opened.”

“Oh, brother.”

She swung open the door and pointed at him with flourish. “Exactly. You got it, brother Anthony!”

She left singing the chorus from the
Messiah
all the way down the hall. Before he knew what was happening, Anthony found himself humming along.

Anthony’s heart was pounding as he dialed the phone.
Can I do this? What if they refuse? What if they think it’s just a ploy to make them drop the lawsuit? What if——

“Millers.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “Is this the son of Belinda Miller?”

The voice was suddenly wary. “Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Dr. Anthony Thorgood—please don’t hang up, please.”

“Talk to my lawyer.”

“No, no, this isn’t about that. This is about your son. About Ronnie.”

A moment of silence. “What about him?”

“Your mother told me about his port-wine stain. I’m a plastic surgeon. I can fix that. Make it disappear.”

“We can’t afford—”

“I’ll do it for free.”

Another pause. “Is this your way of making us drop the lawsuit? Because what you did to my mother—”

“Was despicable. I know. And the offer is good whether you sue me or not. I want to do it. I
need
to do it.”

“Need?”

This was going to sound contrived. “I’m trying to change my life—for the better. I’m trying to make good use of my second chance.”

“My mother didn’t get a second chance.”

Touché
. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mr. Miller. I can’t go back. I can’t change the past, you know.”

The man’s voice faltered. “I know.”

Anthony felt his own throat tighten. He cleared it. “But I can change your son’s future.”

The man sniffed, then sighed. “I suppose you can.”

“So you’ll let me help Ronnie?”

“I’d be a fool not to. And if anyone deserves a second chance on life, it’s my boy.”

“And I’ll do my best to give it to him. I’ll arrange for three tickets from Murfreesboro to here. And also a room—a nice room in an upscale hotel. Is that acceptable?”

The man laughed. “Yes, I’d say so.”

“Good. How does a week from tomorrow sound?”

“A … only a week?” He laughed again. “That’s mighty fine.”

“Good, good. Then consider it done.”

“Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you’re not such a bad man after all.”

“I’m working on it.”

Anthony hung up, grinning from ear to ear. How did that “Hallelujah Chorus” go?

“The crutches are a nice touch,” David said. “You think they can cover them with white satin or something?”

Tina gave him a look. “My cast will be off long before the wedding. Now pay attention. Picking out a wedding dress is serious business.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tina turned toward the full-length mirror, pulling at the lace around the neck. She wished her mother could be here, but with her father’s health and tight finances, this wedding was going to be on Tina and David’s tab. And though Tina was willing to cut back on the ceremony and reception, she had her heart set on a lacy white gown, a Cinderella gown changing the cinder girl into a princess. She looked at the price tag. It was last year’s style, on sale. On a bookstore clerk’s wages, it would be a stretch, but it was doable.

She turned toward David. “Do you like this one best?”

He sighed extravagantly. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I am?”

She truly hadn’t said those two words to elicit another compliment, but the fact that David got out of his chair and came to her side … the fact that he ran the back of his hand across her cheek … the fact that his eyes locked onto hers.

“To me you are the most beautiful woman in the world. God’s brought us together forever and always. I love you, you know.”

She could only nod. She knew … she knew.

Sonja finished unpacking her clothes. There was a tap on the bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Eden Moore came in and looked around. “Quite homey.” She picked up a carved wooden box. “Very nice.” She looked up. “You all settled then? Ready to get to work?”

“You don’t mess around, do you? I’ve only been in town three hours.”

“In which time you’ve gotten settled into my guest room. What more do you want? Tea and finger sandwiches?”

“Actually, some iced tea would be great.”

Eden exited the room and stood in the hallway. “Got some in the fridge. Ice too when the freezer decides to make it. But grab it to go. We need to get to the office. Maria’s waiting to see you.”

Sonja remembered the girl she’d met during her first visit—the first victim of her advice. “How’s she doing?”

Eden put on her last earring. “Fabulous. She’s decided to apply to college. She wants to say thanks.”

Sonja stopped, clicking her empty suitcase shut. “Really?”

“Really. I told you this is what you’re supposed to do.”

“But I didn’t really—”

“Believe me?” Eden flipped a hand. “Fiddle-dee. There will be no more of that. Come on. We have work to do.”

It was music to her ears.

Floyd Calbert and Hugh Johnson made a pass over the river. All was quiet. All was well. But the memories …

As they left the crash site behind, Floyd noticed that Hugh looked back. He knew they shared the same thoughts. “I think of it every time we fly over.”

Hugh nodded. “Me too.”

“I’m glad we got to go that day—even though it was scary and even though everything didn’t work out as we’d hoped.”

“Me too.”

Floyd thought of the letter in his pocket. “This helps.”

“What is it?”

“A note from Merry Cavanaugh thanking me.” He suddenly realized that Hugh might feel bad if he hadn’t gotten—

Hugh pulled an identical envelope from his chest pocket. “I got one too.”

Floyd was relieved. “It helps, doesn’t it?”

Hugh patted his pocket. “You bet it does.”