CHAPTER 31
REID
“You’re certain about this?” I can’t recal Dad ever looking at me with such an incredulous expression, and believe me, I’ve witnessed incredulity on his face a mil ion times.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Saturday mornings, my father is in his home office, catching up on whatever work he didn’t vanquish in his sixty-hour work week. The idea that Mom or I would disturb him before noon is inconceivable, since we’re usual y asleep. So when I knocked on his door at 9:00 a.m., he seemed disconcerted by my appearance. Then I told him I had a financial matter to discuss, apart from our monthly consultations over my expenditures and investments. He regained his composure quickly, obviously expecting me to request additional cash because I’d run through my al otted spending money ahead of schedule.
Instead, I told him I wanted three cars purchased and delivered to the Diegos, anonymously, on the day they get the keys to their house.
“But the anonymity…” he says, brows drawn together.
“No PR? No tax break? It’s a significant financial output for no personal advantage.”
His tone says he’l do what I want, even if he’s baffled by the uncharacteristic request. It’s my money, after al ; he just manages it for me, since I’ve never taken much interest in anything beyond spending it. “It has to be anonymous. And you just described most of my expenditures, when it comes down to it.”
He chuckles in spite of himself. “Point taken.” He frowns one final time. “And this has nothing to do with the girl.” I smirk. “Dad, what exactly are you suggesting?” He huffs a breath through his nose and scowls, his gaze never leaving my face, ever the legal eagle. “I think you know damned wel what I’m suggesting, Reid. I usual y overlook your… indiscretions… but the Diego girl is underage.”
Deep breath, in and out, through my teeth. “Yes, I got the idea after seeing firsthand the unreliable piece of crap she’s driving around LA.” I hold up a hand to silence him.
“But I don’t want any of them to know about my connection to this, so it can hardly be used as bait. As out of character as this may seem to you, it’s something I want to do.
Reparation for the harm I caused. Humor me.” He’s silent for a moment, after which he shrugs. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but al right. These are the vehicles you want?” He points to his monitor, where he’s pul ed up the links I sent last night.
“Yeah. John and I built them online to confirm which features were available, so those are the exact specs.
They’re al reliable, but not flashy.”
They’re al reliable, but not flashy.”
He nods. “Flashy wouldn’t do them any favors in their part of town. I’l request al available security components as wel , to discourage theft.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I stand up to leave, but turn back.
“Needless to say, don’t tel Larry. Don’t even tel George, just in case. I think he’d play along, but… better to keep this between you and me, I think.”
He’s looking at me with that same incredulous expression. “Al right.”
I turn and leave his office, wondering why it took me so long to discover this sort of high. The month with Habitat affected me more than I thought.
*** *** ***
Dori
“You’re as difficult to get hold of as I am these days.” Deb laughs. Hers is the first phone cal I’ve had since Mom and Dad cal ed me last weekend. We’ve been playing phone tag for the past 24 hours, and I’d almost given up having an actual conversation with her. Quito and Indianapolis are only an hour off, but she works al night and I work al day, our times overlapping at both ends. “How’s it going?” Perfect timing. I’m sitting on my bunk, sifting through sheet music for this afternoon. “Real y wel . I’ve got an enthusiastic group this year—I’m teaching them songs that help them learn math concepts. They’re al so smart! But here’s the coolest thing—I’ve been tutoring a couple of girls close to my age in English and math.” It’s impossible to keep the excitement out of my voice. “When I met them two weeks ago, they both assumed they’d drop out of school weeks ago, they both assumed they’d drop out of school soon to get married or start working ful -time. Now, one is determined to at least finish high school, and the other is talking about going to college.”
“That’s awesome, Dori.”
“I feel like I’m making a tangible difference this time.” My bunkmate comes in then, climbs the ladder to the top bunk, and col apses with a moan. She’s Mom’s age and arrived in Ecuador the night before last with a group of women from her church in Oklahoma. “Everything okay, Gina?” I cal up.
“Aaaaugh... this altitude is killing me.” She leans over, peering at me from her upside-down position. “Are you talking to your sister? Did you ask if she has any recommendations for me?”
“She would tel you the same thing I told you yesterday.
No over-exertion and lots of fluids.” Deb chuckles in my ear.
People—from friends and family to complete strangers—
have been asking her for medical advice since she began med school. “You’l feel fine in a day or so.” Gina flops back onto her bed. “God, I hope so. This is not cool.”
“You sure you don’t want to study medicine?” Deb asks, stil chuckling.
“I’m positive,” I whisper, hoping Gina wil go to sleep instead of butting in on what wil probably be my only conversation with my sister while I’m in Ecuador. “Now, let’s talk about you. Have you and Bradford progressed from making out in parking lots yet?”
The smile in her voice remains when she answers. “Oh, maybe…”
“Deborah Cantrel ,” I say, struggling to keep my voice low. “What are you hinting at? You sound absolutely guilt-ridden.”
“I’m tel ing you first, and then Mom and Dad, and then Sylvie…” Sylvie is Deb’s best friend from col ege. She married her col ege boyfriend, has a two-year-old and another on the way, and has been setting Deb up with every eligible friend of her husband’s for years. None of them have worked out, and a couple of them are only summoned to be witty anecdotes when she and her female med school friends discuss relationship-hunting fails.
“Wel this sounds promising… wait. Deb. Tell me.”
“He proposed last night.”
I forget to whisper. “What?”
Gina hangs down. “What? What is it?”
“He proposed? But you’ve only known him a few weeks!” I say, and Gina’s eyes go round as she makes an excited eeeeeeeeee sound. I want to knock her on the forehead so I can share this moment with my sister, alone, but of course I don’t.
Deb’s reply is calm, unperturbed after my outburst.
Expecting it, probably. “Dori, I know what you’re worried about—whether or not I’m sure. I am. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
“Oh my gosh.” My eyes tear up, but I’m smiling, and Gina is grinning ecstatical y, stil upside-down. A tear snakes down my cheek and I wipe it away. Gina disappears momentarily and reappears with a tissue. “Have you worked it out with hospital administration? When do I get to meet him?”
She sighs. “We aren’t sure how to reveal it or what it might mean once we do. No one at the hospital knows yet except a close friend of his and one of the nurses—who caught us kissing in an empty room.” She giggles, and I’m struck again by how sixteen she’s sounded since this man came into her life. “That was the first time he said he loved me. When she came in, I tried to pul away, but he held tight, smiled and said, ‘Marta, have you met the woman I’ve fal en in love with?’ She stared at us a minute and then said,
‘Wel , I knew something was going on, doctor. You’ve been so pleasant for the past few weeks that we figured you were either in love or dying. Glad to know it’s the former.’
We swore her to secrecy.”
I’m laughing and crying at the same time, and strangely, so is Gina, who hands me another tissue while she mops her eyes with her own. “Wow,” I say, stunned.
“I have a couple of days in a row off in September, so we’re planning to make a quick trip home then. I assume you can make it home from Berkeley for an evening?”
“Heck, yes. I wouldn’t miss it. When are you tel ing Mom and Dad?”
“As soon as we hang up, I’m cal ing them. But first, how are you doing with the Reid Alexander situation? Is the distance helping?” Hearing his name is a jolt.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Haven’t thought of him much at al .” I’m crossing my fingers under my leg.
“You haven’t heard from him, then.”
“No.” Like he predicted—he’s gone back to his life, and I’ve gone on with mine. “Out of sight, out of mind.” My voice rings falsely impassive in my ears.
“I can’t imagine any boy being stupid enough to put you out of his mind so easily, baby girl. Even him.” I’m real y glad that Gina, who’s stil eavesdropping shamelessly, can’t hear Deb’s portion of the conversation.
“Wel , thanks. But I think they’re al kind of the same.” Deb knows I’m referring to Colin.
“No, they aren’t, but guys like Brad are rare. It took me twenty-six years to find him, and look how far from home I had to go. What if I’d done my internship elsewhere? We’d have never met. Brad and I were meant to be.” I turn onto my side, repressing words I’ve said to Deb before, words I wil not repeat now because I’m determined not to take anything away from her happiness. I know Deb believes that God brought Brad to her. That they were fated to be. But if this is so, then were Colin and I fated? Was what he did to me meant to be? Or perhaps he was a test that I failed, foolishly trusting a boy who exploited some inadequacy that made me blind to reality.
I can’t believe either of these. What happened with Colin was simply a failure to heed my own common sense. I made a mistake in judgment, and I paid for it.
“I’m glad you found each other, Deb,” I tel her, turning onto my back. “I hope you’l be real y happy.” She sighs blissful y. “We already are. It’s almost too much joy.”
I shake my head and smile. “No such thing.”
“I hope you’re right. You can probably expect a giddy cal from Mom soon. I think she thought I was al ergic to boys—
or they were al ergic to me. I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you, too, and I’m so happy for you.” When we hang up, it seems that Gina has forgotten her altitude sickness for the time being. She tel s me she’s a hopeless romantic who drives her husband crazy buying every romantic movie ever made. “I think I’ve watched The Notebook about a thousand times,” she confesses, without even a hint of embarrassment. “I want to hear al about your sister and her new fiancé, but first—who is this boy you left behind? Was it a breakup? Not because of your volunteer efforts here, I hope.”
“No, nothing like that. We only went out once. It was nothing.” I’m crossing my fingers under my leg again, though I’ve spoken nothing but truth.
“Not meant to be, then,” Gina says, and it takes al the control I can manage not to rol my eyes. Holy cow, you’d think people never made their own decisions about anything, weren’t in control of any direction their lives took.
“Yep. Not meant to be.” I force myself to uncross my fingers. Nothing I’m saying is a lie or a fib or even a disputed truth. Whether or not my life is orchestrated by God or some form of fate or nothing but the choices Reid and I make individual y or together, we’re not meant to be.