Words Get In the Way (11 page)

“Okay, the cats get a little kibble at suppertime,” he said, opening a small plastic bin, “even though”—he looked around and announced loudly—“they’re supposed to be feasting on mice.” He held out a cup to Henry. “Want to put this in their dishes?” Henry took the cup and carefully poured half into each dish and then handed the cup back to Linden. “Good job,” Linden said, nodding. They walked back outside, and Linden lifted the hose off its rack. He gave one end of the hose to Henry and pointed to the trough. When Henry had the hose over it, he turned it on, and Henry filled it. Next, Linden lifted the top off of an old metal can. “The cows and e.e. don’t get grain every night,” Linden explained, “but tonight’s a special occasion.” He handed Henry a big scoop and pointed to three grain pails. Henry poured a little into each one and then stumblingly backed away as they all trundled toward him. Linden smiled and added, “No storms are headed our way, so they can stay out tonight. But the chickens like to be inside, safe and cozy.” He motioned to the henhouse, and Henry walked over and peered into the shadows at all the sleepy, quietly clucking ladies. Linden gently closed and latched the door. “Thanks, Henry.
You
are a big help.”

22

C
allie slipped quietly into her dad’s room. A nurse was taking his blood pressure, but when she heard Callie come in, she looked up and smiled. Callie was surprised to see the curtains open and the evening sun filling the room with its warm, friendly light.

“Hey, Dad,” she said softly.

Ben opened his eyes. “Hey there, kiddo.”

“How’re you feelin’?”

“A little tired,” he replied honestly.

The nurse finished jotting down his numbers and said she’d be right back with his dinner. Ben nodded and turned to Callie. “I’m sorry to put you through all this.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dad, you’re not putting me through anything.”

“Yes, I am,” he said, reaching for her hand. “And you already have enough going on.”

“It’s okay, really. We’re managing.”

Ben tried to look around the room. “Hey, where’s my pal?”

“Little kids can’t come into intensive care.”

“Oh.” He paused. “That’s a dumb rule. Where is he then?”

Now it was Callie’s turn to pause. Finally, she said softly, “He’s with Linden.”

Ben’s brow furrowed, and Callie wondered if
that
was where Henry had inherited that trait.

“Linden?”

Callie nodded and recounted their unexpected encounter in the hardware store, and then again outside the hardware store.

Ben nodded solemnly. “He’s a good guy, Cal.”

“I know, Dad, but I don’t know how he can ever forgive what I did.”

“You might be surprised.”

Callie was quiet, lost in her own thoughts and still worried about leaving Henry. They talked for a bit, but when the nurse came back with his dinner she said, “I think I’m going to go. Can you manage?” He nodded, and she turned on the television for him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just worried about him.”

“Of course. Go. And don’t feel like you have to come every day. I know you have your hands full.”

Callie nodded and then hesitated. “Dad, I hate to ask you this, but would it be possible to borrow some money?”

Concern swept across Ben’s face and, without hesitation, he said, “Of course. In the back of my closet. Take whatever you need—it’s all yours anyway.”

Callie frowned. “Not yet, it isn’t.”

Ben smiled. “I’m keeping you guys in my prayers.”

Callie hugged him. “I’m praying for you too,” she whispered.

Callie walked down the hall and silently said a prayer for her dad to get better. As she murmured amen, she wondered how many people actually remembered to say a prayer after saying they would. She shook her head.
If they’re anything like me, they forget!
She walked to her car, still thinking about it.
And, if they’re anything like me, they start off praying but end up thinking about what they’re going to have for breakfast and then not even get to amen before they’re getting out a cereal bowl.
Her dad had often said, “Prayer takes focus,” and Callie knew it was true. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she wondered if what her dad had said about Linden forgiving her might also be true.

She thought back to the first Thanksgiving after her mom had died, when the only thing in the world she’d wanted was her dad’s forgiveness. She’d stayed in Vermont that fall, even though she knew her dad was lonely. She ached to see him too, but she just couldn’t face him. She was afraid of his reaction, of his anger; but more than anything, she was afraid of seeing the sadness in his eyes. The first time she’d seen disappointment in her dad’s eyes, she was in second grade and had come home from school with a new pencil case. He’d asked her where she’d gotten it, and she’d stumbled over her answer, not knowing her teacher had called; not knowing he already knew the truth; not knowing that “I found it” was not the answer he was hoping for. But after she’d murmured those exact words, she’d watched in dismay as sadness and disappointment had filled his eyes, and she’d vowed she’d never see that look again.

When she pulled into the driveway on that Thanksgiving, though, she was seven months pregnant and she still hadn’t told him. Tears had filled her eyes when she saw him standing in the doorway waiting for her.

Oh, God, please let him forgive me.

Biting her lip, she’d eased from the car and stood, pulling her coat around her round form. And her father, who had started walking across the driveway to greet her, had stopped and slowly shook his head in disbelief, trying to understand, trying to grasp what she hadn’t shared with him.

At that sad moment, Callie had suddenly realized that
not
telling him had been a greater betrayal. She’d bowed her head in grief and shame as tears had spilled down her cheeks.

The rest of that day and the next had been quiet and tense. It was the first anniversary of her mom’s accident and, just when her dad needed her most, he could hardly bring himself to look at her. Callie was devastated. “Please forgive me, Dad,” she’d said quietly. Without looking up, he’d nodded. Despite his nod and the hug he gave her when she left, Callie had felt lost and alone when she returned to the old Vermont Victorian in which she rented an upstairs apartment.

One week later, though, she’d heard a sound outside her window and looked out to see him pulling up in front of the house. Tied down in the back of his pickup were her old baby crib, a new bassinet, a changing table, and a case of newborn-size diapers. She’d knocked on the window, and he’d looked up and smiled. Moments later, he’d come up the stairs lugging a box full of toys and clothes, and on top of the box was her old baby quilt, freshly laundered. He’d put the box down, given her a quick hug, taken a minute to catch his breath, and headed back down the stairs.

In spite of Callie’s protests, he’d single-handedly carried all the furnishings up the stairs and insisted that Callie stay put and not lift a thing. While he set up the crib and changing table in her bedroom, she unpacked some of the clothes and toys. In the bottom of one of the boxes she found her old favorite bear and, with a smile, she’d gently propped him up in the corner of the crib.

Later on, as the melancholy sun peeked between the campus buildings, they’d ordered a pizza and sat together in her tiny kitchen to eat. Before he left, he’d wrapped her in a bear hug and told he’d always love her. No matter what.

And, one month later, on a snowy January night, he traveled through the darkness to be there when his new grandson was born. Callie had smiled as she watched him lift the tiny bundle into his arms and whisper, “Henry Benjamin Wyeth!
You
are beautiful! Oh, how I wish your grandmother were here to meet you!”

23

L
inden and Henry were sitting on the stone wall, each with a single long piece of grass between his teeth, watching the cows graze when Callie pulled up. She breathed a sigh of relief to see Henry still there
and
seemingly content! She got out of the car, and Kat and Springer, who had been lazing in the late-day sun, pulled themselves up and trotted over to greet her. She knelt down, and they wiggled around her happily. Callie smiled. “This is, by far, the warmest welcome I’ve ever had!”

Linden nodded. “Well, they
are
the self-appointed welcoming committee.”

“They’re beautiful. What are their names?”

Linden smiled. “That big moose is Springer, and the smaller one is Kat.”

“Cat?” Callie looked puzzled.

Linden nodded. “With a K, short for Katahdin.”

“Like the mountain?”

“Yup, Springer is a mountain too.” He paused. “They mark the beginning and end of the Appalachian Trail.”

She looked over at Henry and smiled. “So? How’d it go?”

“Piece of cake,” Linden said with a grin.

“No!” Callie said in surprised disbelief.

Linden nodded. “Yup, he was no problem, and he seemed to enjoy helping me with the animals.” He paused. “By the way, I know you said he doesn’t talk, but does he nod when he understands something?”

Callie looked puzzled and shook her head slowly. “Not that I’ve noticed,” she answered skeptically. “Of course, I’m usually pretty good at upsetting him, so all I get are tantrums and revolutions.”

Linden shrugged. “Well, I’m pretty sure he nodded, and he definitely understands everything I say.” He paused thoughtfully. “How’s your dad?”

Callie sat down next to Henry. “He seemed good, tired though. He was having supper when I left.” She looked at Henry. “Speaking of which, I didn’t even warn you that Henry might be hungry or that he might need the bathroom.”

“We had a snack
and
I showed him where the bathroom is,” Linden said with a smile. “I’m smarter than I look,” he teased. “
And
I was a little guy once too.”

Callie tried to picture Linden as “a little guy,” and smiled. Unfortunately, their history didn’t go back that far.

Linden interrupted her thoughts. “How ’bout you? Have you had supper?”

Callie looked over and shook her head. “Not yet, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Besides, don’t you need to get back to your project?” she asked, nodding toward the river.

“It can wait,” Linden replied, suddenly remembering the beer he’d left out on a rock.

“Well, I’d love to treat
you
to dinner, Linden,” she said with a sigh. “It’s the least I can do, but Henry doesn’t do very well in restaurants.”

Linden looked over at the little boy sitting on the wall. He hadn’t moved since Callie arrived. He just sat quietly, watching the cows. Linden followed his gaze and suddenly realized how much he wanted Callie to stay.

“We could order a pizza,” he suggested.

Callie looked over. “Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Okay, but I’m paying,” she said, and then remembered she didn’t have any money. “I mean, I’m paying you back.”

Linden smiled. “We’ll see.”

While they waited for the pizza to arrive, Linden introduced Callie to all of the animals and explained how each one had come to live with him. Callie listened attentively and realized that Linden was still the same tenderhearted boy she’d known in high school, ever willing to help and always the first to offer. As they walked back toward the cabin, the one resident who hadn’t been introduced swooped out of the barn and settled in the tall Norway spruce across the meadow, his stately form silhouetted against the dusky sky. Henry pointed, and Linden tousled his hair. “Yup, that’s Atticus.”

“Atticus?” Callie asked, thinking back to their tenth-grade English class, and raising her eyebrows.

Linden grinned. “Atticus was already a resident
with
a name when I moved in,” he said, “and I’m sure you can guess who named him.”

Callie laughed. “I think that was one of Mr. Coleman’s favorite books.”

Linden nodded. “That and
Our Town
.”

A noisy, green Plymouth Horizon rumbled into the driveway. “Did you order a pizza?” the driver called through his window. Linden nodded and pulled his wallet from his pocket as he walked toward the car. “This place is really tucked away,” the driver commented, hoping for a big tip. Linden gave him an extra five. “Thanks, man!” the driver said with a grin as he pulled away.

“So, what do you think?” Linden asked, turning to Callie. “Shall we eat on the porch?”

“Sounds good,” she replied.

Linden handed the box to her and quickly rearranged the wicker chairs and side table. “How ’bout a beer?”

Callie smiled. “Sure. I can’t remember the last time I had a beer.”

“Milk for Henry?”

“If you have enough. Do you need help?”

“Nope,” he said, disappearing inside. Moments later, he reappeared with two bottles tucked under his arm, a small glass of milk, paper plates, napkins, and a crate for Henry to sit on. Callie opened the pizza box and slid slices onto the plates, and Linden put one on the table for Henry. Springer plopped down next to Henry and, before long, he had a sloppy string of drool hanging from his jowls. Linden shook his head in dismay. “Springer, try to pull yourself together.” The big yellow Lab looked up at the mention of his name, thumped his tail hopefully, and turned his attention back to Henry. Callie watched Henry take another bite and realized that he hadn’t fussed the whole time they were there.

An awkward silence fell over the porch, and Callie listened to the incessant buzz of insects in the trees. She was about to ask Linden how his parents were when another sound drifted across the meadow. Henry looked out into the inky darkness, and Linden smiled. “That’s Atticus,” he said softly. “Do you know what he’s saying?” Henry furrowed his brow, and Linden continued, “He’s saying,
‘Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you aaaall?
’ ” Callie watched Henry nod and caught her breath as Linden went on, “If you keep listening, maybe his lady friend will answer.” Moments later, they heard another owl calling from far away,
Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?
Henry pointed, and Callie remarked in surprise, “It does sound like that’s what they’re saying!”