Night Road

Night Road Page 60

She carried Grace up onto Mia’s big bed and snuggled with her there.

Grace slowly opened her small fist. Resting on her palm lay the promise ring Zach had given Lexi. “Look what Mommy gave me.”

Jude picked up the fragile ring. This was what she’d been so upset by all those years ago, a little circle of white gold with a sapphire chip; she’d thought a ring like this could derail a young man’s life. “He was so romantic,” she sighed.

Grace popped her thumb in her mouth and mumbled, “Who?” around it.

“Your daddy. I should have known that Miles and I would raise a romantic.”

Why hadn’t she rejoiced that her son knew how to love deeply? And to dream of the future. Why was it that pebbles looked like boulders until they were in your rearview mirror? “He gave your mommy that ring for Christmas.”

Jude unhooked the slim gold chain necklace she wore. Letting the diamond enhancer fall into her lap, she took the ring from Grace and threaded the chain through it and then clasped the necklace on Grace. “You look like a princess,” Jude said, kissing her granddaughter’s cheek. And once she’d begun kissing Grace, she couldn’t stop. She kissed and nuzzled and snuggled until Gracie cried out for mercy, yelling stop it, Nana—that tickles! and giggling.

Finally Jude drew back and looked at Grace. “I love you. I should have told you that a million times a day.”

“That’s a lot of times.” Grace giggled again and covered her mouth.

“Don’t try to quiet your laughter, Gracie. It’s a beautiful sound.”

“That’s what my mommy said.”

Mommy.

How was it that an ordinary word, one she’d heard all of her life, could suddenly be so sharp? You used to be the best mother in the world.

Regret was all around Jude; she felt choked by it, but then she looked down at the girl in her arms, and she could breathe again. The regret melted slowly away, was replaced by a fragile shoot of hope. “Your mom has a heart as big as Alaska. I forgot that. And she made my Mia—and your dad—happy.”

“What’s that?” Grace asked, pointing at the book in Jude’s other hand.

She hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. “It’s your Aunt Mia’s diary.”

“You aren’t ’posed to read stuff like that. Hannah Montana says—”

“It’s okay.”

“Cuz she’s dead?”

Jude drew in a sharp breath, waiting for a pain that didn’t quite come. It was there, of course, in that one awful word, but it left quickly, and she was surprised to find that she could still smile. And maybe it was better to face a thing, to say it out loud, rather than to hide it away. “Yeah. Now it’s something she left for us.”

“What was she like, Nana?” Grace asked, and Jude wondered how long Grace had held that question back, afraid to ask it of anyone in her family.

“She was like … a beautiful, fragile flower. Until she met your mom, she was afraid of her own shadow and lonely … so lonely.” She wiped her eyes. “She wanted to be an actress, and I think she could have made it. All those quiet years weren’t wasted. Mia was always watching people, soaking up the world around her. When she got onstage, she was a different girl completely. Your mom helped her with that. It was Lexi who talked Mia into trying out for her first play.”

Miles appeared in the doorway. “What’s this? You two look like you’re having a party without me.”

“We are, Papa!” Grace said, scrambling to her feet. She ran across the bed and launched herself into Miles’s open arms.

“Nana was telling me about Aunt Mia,” Grace said. “An’ look what my mommy gave me.” She held out the promise ring on the chain.

“She was telling you about Mia?” Miles asked, looking at Jude. Over Grace’s golden hair their eyes met, and a quiet understanding passed between them. They both knew what it meant to simply say Mia’s name. He got up into his daughter’s bed and eased close to them, putting an arm around Jude.

“How have you been so strong?” she asked him.

“Strong?” He sighed, and in the sound she heard the wellspring of his loss. “I’m not strong anymore,” he said. “But, thank God, I’m patient.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Grace wiggled around until she was wedged between them. Then she sat up. Her pointed chin jutted out. “Won’t Daddy be mad that Mommy gave me this ring?”

And suddenly Jude got it: she knew why Lexi had given Grace the ring. Something important to do before I leave.

Lexi hadn’t just left Grace for the day. The ring meant good-bye.

Lexi pedaled up Main Street and parked her bike in front of Scot’s office.

He was still at his desk, talking on the phone. At her entrance, he smiled and held up a finger. Wait, he mouthed. Don’t go.

She sat down on the sofa in the office, waiting. As soon as he hung up, she got to her feet and headed toward the desk. “I made a mistake,” she said, standing in front of him.

He paused in gathering his papers and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“You know what Grace said to me? I’m already a mom. I should know how to be one. But I don’t. I have no idea how to be my daughter’s mommy. I don’t have a job or a place to live. Anything. I’m not ready. All I did by coming back was hurt them again. Hurt Grace.”

“Lexi, you can’t give up.”

“I’m not going to give up. I still want to modify the custody agreement, and I want to be Grace’s mom. I want that more than anything. But I have to do it the right way. I have to do what’s best for her. Not what’s best for me.” Her voice fell away; all she could do was shrug. “I tried to find a job. Ha. Apparently a twenty-four-year-old ex-con can’t even be a part-time janitor. And forget about housing. At best I can rent a room in someone’s house. I’ll have to work seventy hours a week just to live. How do I take care of Grace? How?”

“Lexi…”

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t make it harder, okay? I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’m going to Florida tomorrow morning. Eva got me a job. I’ll be able to save up enough to come back in a year. My bus leaves at 9:25.”

“Oh, Lexi…” Scot said. “I wish you’d listen to me…”

“Make sure they send me pictures,” she said quietly, trying not to cry. “I’ll write to her every week.”

He went to her then, took her in his arms. She had a hard time letting go. “Thank you for everything,” she finally said.

“What about Zach?” Scot asked.

The question hurt so much she didn’t even try to respond.

“Do you need a ride to the bus station tomorrow?”

“No.” The last thing she wanted was to tell him good-bye again. “I’ve got it covered. I left Jenny’s suit in the conference room. Tell her thanks for me.”

“You can tell her yourself. Come to dinner tonight?”

“Okay, but there’s something I have to do later.”

“Do you need help?”

“No. I need to do it alone.”

Jude sat on the sofa in Zach’s quiet living room. She hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, so the lavender evening crept through the windows. A fire danced orange in the black hearth, and for once she felt warmed by it. Every now and then she heard a giggle coming from down the hall, where Miles and Grace were playing something on the Wii. Grace was like a light that had suddenly been switched on; she talked nonstop, and she hadn’t told a lie all afternoon. Jude had no doubt that the last few hours with her granddaughter would become one of the anchor memories of this new part of their family’s life. The start of After.

But even as she’d joined in, Jude had felt a rising sense of urgency. There was more to be done, she knew, more wrongs to right.

Finally, at about seven, the front door opened and Zach walked in, with his heavy backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“You’re late,” Jude said, rising to her feet.

“The last test was a bitch,” he said, tossing his backpack. He looked utterly exhausted. “I think I blew it.”

“You have a lot on your mind.”

“You think?”

“I tried calling you.”

“My phone died. Sorry.”

She got up from the sofa and stood there, staring at him. Even now, she wasn’t sure quite how to say all the things on her mind. The last few days had been so startling; she felt like a glacier that had begun slowly to melt and move again.

“I stopped by the lawyer’s office, too,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I agreed to the modified parenting plan. It’s done. I know you don’t like it, but I can’t hurt Lexi anymore. I won’t. And if she needs to have Grace by herself for a while, I’m going to say yes.” He paused, and then said quietly, “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. If I had stayed sober—”

“Don’t, Zach, I—”

“You can’t run this thing, Mom. I know how much you care about everything, but this is about me and Lexi and Grace. I have to do what’s right.”

“I know,” she said. It was time. “And I’m proud of you.”

They were like soldiers who’d fought on a common battlefield, she and her son. There were things to say, but they were just words, and they would come in time. What mattered was that they had survived and that there was still love—between them and around them. Everything else was a postscript. There was really only one thing she needed to say to him now. One question to ask. “Do you still love her?”

Zach seemed to crumble at that. In his eyes, she saw both a fragile youth and a terrible maturity. “I’ve always loved her. I never even tried not to.”

She gathered her son in her arms and held him as she should have years ago, when he was young and hurting and afraid. She wished she’d known then what mattered most. “I love you like air, Zach.”

He held her tightly. “I love you, too, Madre.”

It was the first time he’d called her that in years, and with that little endearment, she melted more, moved just that much closer to who she’d been. She drew back slowly. “I think she’s leaving tomorrow. Going to Florida maybe.”

“Why?”

“She thinks Grace will be better off without her.”

“But that’s crazy.”

“Lexi has always tried to do what was right for everyone else. That’s who she is, isn’t it? I should have remembered that, Zach … how much Lexi meant to us … to me.”

Zach looked at her. She saw both hope and worry in his eyes: hope that she meant it and worry that she didn’t. “What are you saying?”

“Go find her, Zach. Tell her how you feel.” She pushed the hair from his eyes and smiled. “She’s a part of our family. She needs to know that.”