Rick’s truck pulled into my driveway late Thursday afternoon, making me wonder what treasure Caroline needed from her room. Whatever it was, I hoped Rick would wait for her in the truck. I just didn’t want to deal with him tonight.
As if reading my mind, he climbed out of his truck and started toward the door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. That man always had a singular ability to find the one thing I didn’t want him to do and then do it. With a flourish.
Caroline bounded up to me and gave me a hug. “Dad said he would take us both out to dinner tonight. Isn’t that the best?” She bounced up and down and clapped her hands, effectively ending any argument that I wanted to raise. “He said that you could choose the restaurant. Anywhere you want to go!”
I looked at the flowers in his hand, then cocked my eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?”
“Do I have to have an occasion to bring my wife flowers and to take my family out for a nice dinner?”
“Let’s just say, it happens with an infrequency that lends suspicion to this generous offer.” I knew I was being rude, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“Caroline, why don’t you go change into something nice for dinner, okay?” He watched until she disappeared into the house before he said, “Actually, I come bearing good news.” He held out the flowers and I took them.
“What kind of good news?”
“Kurt is no longer a suspect in the murder of Rudy Prince.” He actually looked down as he said this, a rare show of humility.
“How do you know this?”
“Bruce Thompson. He called me just a couple of hours ago and said they’ve got the guy in custody.”
“Someone else was arrested? I hadn’t heard that.”
“Of course not. I’m sure they haven’t officially announced it yet.”
“Then, why would he tell you something like that, before it was official?”
“I think we’ve spent enough time talking about it all that he knew I’d been eaten up over it.” He looked at the ground again. “He called me this afternoon to let me know.”
Part of me wanted to be thrilled over this news. To believe with all my heart that the guilty party was in jail and all our troubles were over. Maybe Kurt really was innocent.
The other part felt sick. The bat I’d burned was too deeply connected to the murder not to mean something.
I thought of Detective Thompson at the grocery store and at my grief seminar and even at church the other day. I thought about the fear his presence struck in my heart. “When will it be made public?” What I really wanted to know was, when would it be in the paper or on the news? I needed details, lots of them, but I couldn’t ask for them now without being obvious.
“I’m guessing tomorrow morning’s paper, but what do I know about it?” He shrugged. “That’s enough of that depressing talk.” He put his arm around my shoulder. It was the first time we’d touched in a long time. I pulled away.
“Where were you thinking of going to dinner?”
“Like Caroline said, you get to pick. Let’s see, as I recall Chuck’s was always your favorite place.”
“Chuck’s is too nice a place to take Caroline.” I thought of the years that he’d been so frugal about anywhere we took the kids for dinner. Chili’s was as nice as it ever got, and even that was rare. Besides, I was certain at this point that I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite, not until I knew the full details of the arrest.
“It would be good for her. A chance to practice her biggirl manners.”
“Caroline and big-girl manners in the same sentence?” We both laughed.
“She’s got to start learning sometime.” This was a huge concession for him to make, and I knew that he truly was trying to make amends. I supposed the least I could do was accept the gift.
“You’ve been right all along, Alisa,” he said. “I’m starting to realize that, because I’m not even listening to myself anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember when I told you not to give him any money? Well, I loaned him three thousand dollars last week. He needed to have some work done on his car, some things like that. I told him it was a loan, but I don’t think I’ll let him pay me back. I think I’ll tell him just to apply the money toward school.” He stood looking at me, and I knew that he was waiting for me to say something positive, about his taking the right step.
What I really wanted to do was throw up. Instead I managed to say, “Well, I’m glad. That you’ve come to believe in him, I mean.” How I managed to say the words, I’ll never know.
He looked puzzled by the lack of enthusiasm in my answer, and I knew that he was. I certainly wasn’t going to explain it to him, though.
Kurt had been getting money to “fix his car” from both of us. I thought of the used car salesman voice, I thought of this new piece of information, and then my imagination went completely overboard picturing all the possibilities of what my son might be up to.
“So, as I was saying, dinner?”
“Sounds great.” I said it even though I didn’t want dinner. I wanted to confront my son and find out what he was really up to. And I wanted to find out what was happening with Rudy Prince’s murder investigation.
A good meal can be its own distraction, and Chuck’s desserts never fail to grab my attention. But by the time the last bite of cheesecake disappeared and our surprising evening was over, my mind went again to the information Rick had passed on. I was distracted when I said good-night to Rick and Caroline. Distracted as I sat down with the mail I hadn’t managed to open earlier. Finally, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go online and try to find some answers. But of course there was no news to be found yet. The police hadn’t made their official announcement about the arrest.
Still needing to kill more time before another pointless attempt at sleep, I opened my e-mail. There was only one item in the inbox. The subject line said simply Book Proposal Response.
My heart pounded as I considered what I might see when I opened this, and what I was prepared to do about it. If he was offering a contract, how could I possibly take it now? Then again, how could I possibly not take it?
I finally mustered the courage to
left-click on the mouse.
Mrs. Stewart,
Thank you very much for your recent submission. I found your writing voice fresh and interesting, and obviously your personal experience and training qualify you in a unique way to write this book.
Unfortunately, however, at this time I am going to have to pass on this project. Grief books are an over-published niche at the moment, and while your speaking platform is developing, you aren’t able to bring a national profile we feel a new grief book would need. As well, there were concerns from several on our editorial team that the recent epilogue felt unrealistic and perhaps too new to be used.
Your writing does show promise, and I would encourage you to continue to build your platform and work toward publication.
I wish you the best in your
career.
Dennis Mahan
Senior Acquisitions Editor
I closed the e-mail, relief and devastation warring inside me. With what I’d learned tonight, I couldn’t write the book, I knew that. But it meant more than just one more dream crushed. It also meant one less source of income if Rick and I divorced, adding worries to an already overwhelming load.
It occurred to me then, if editors who didn’t even know me or this situation could see the falseness in my “happy ending,” how could I continue trying to fool myself into believing it? Everything was a lie, and even perfect strangers could see that.