My fists ached and every word she spoke was an arrow into my hope. My worst fears surged. I crossed my arms to conceal my trembling hands and shuddering breath.
“I’d never, ever offered to house the homeless from the soup kitchen. My policy was always to share the love of God with them, fill their tummies, and send them on. But, Tracy was different.” She pulled out her hanky again, even though she wasn’t crying. In preparation for impending tears, I figured. “I prepped our spare bedroom and she came home with me that very night. I wasn’t sure and I’m still not sure why I invited her in. I guess it was God drawing us together. She called me Mama Shaye.”
“How long did she stay with you?”
“Not long, unfortunately. She lived with me for about a year, but she never got clean. She’d disappear for days at a time. She even traveled the country. Not sure how she found the money to do that. But somehow she’d find her way back here.” She shook her head. “I got some flack from other church-goers, saying I shouldn’t be enabling that kind of behavior. But, I never gave her money or nothing. Just provided a safe place to land and meals to eat. Tried to be someone she could talk to.”
I didn’t want to hear more, but I couldn’t find my tongue to interrupt her. The onslaught of information paralyzed me.
“She stumbled home at all hours of the day. Sometimes late at night, sometimes right before lunch. Whenever she’d come, I’d warm up some cornbread and sit with her at the dining room table. It was then, when she was most filled with guilt and regret, she’d start talking. About her childhood. About her home. About her father.” Now, the tears flowed and the hanky was put to use again. “And most of all, she talked about you.”
She reached out and grabbed my hands. “Tracy told me all about your time together at the river, and about how much you loved her. She said no one ever loved her the way you did.” She squeezed. “Your love was North on her compass, Patrick.”
The fight or flight response warred inside me. I wanted to run as far away from this conversation as humanly possible. Resisting the urge to swipe the tea tray onto the carpet drained the last of my emotional reserves. What she said couldn’t be true. I uncurled my balled fists and ran my palms across my face. Forced myself to breathe. “I still do love her.”
“I know.” She patted my hand. “But she had a lot of demons. Love is special, but it’s not enough. She needed the power of God to set her free. She looked for him a few times, but I don’t think she felt worthy of love. His or mine. Even yours.”
I sat forward, and propped my elbows on my knees. Nausea twisted my gut. Blew out two breaths. The woman was constantly referring to Gracie in the past tense. “Shaye, please, tell me where she is if you know.”
She turned her face away and stood. “I’ll be right back.” She plodded down the hallway in her bedroom shoes and a closet door squeaked open. She returned carrying a small cardboard box, which she sat on the table. “Tracy didn’t carry much with her. Most of her belongings were stuffed in a backpack. I’m not sure where that pack is. But, this is what she left here.” She lifted the lid.
Inside were some old clothes, a few photos, a tattered hacky-sack, and a stack of letters from me. Then, at the bottom of the box, was a picture of me, smiling like an idiot in the hammock. The picture brought up a memory like it was etched in stone. She had bought a disposable camera with her allowance money when we were sixteen.
I didn’t want her stuff, I wanted her. “Where is—”
She cut me off. “You can take all that with you.” She was avoiding answering the question on purpose. I’d done an okay job keeping my emotions at bay, but now unchecked anger was taking over. I stood and paced away from the couch.
I turned, pointing a finger at Shaye. My voice quaked. “I’m not leaving with anything except information. Where is she? You know!”
Shaye’s face drained of color and tears sprung down her wrinkled and age-spotted cheeks like someone turned on a faucet. “I’m sorry.” Her lips trembled. “She passed away shortly after I took that picture. The darkness consumed her.”
I stepped back and knocked into the end-table behind me. Something glass hit the floor. The frame I held slipped from my fingers. Shaye rose and reached her arms toward me. She was crying, saying something, but I didn’t hear her. Blood rushed in my ears, and a fog settled over my reasoning mind.
She couldn’t be dead.
Shaye grabbed my face with her hands. She was wiping my face and shaking her head. I felt more than heard myself murmuring, “No, please, no.” My chest heaved with the effort of breathing.
I’d waited, prayed, tossed and turned night after night only to find out she died years ago? I’d known all along she was dead, because I pushed her into that darkness. I should’ve fought like hell to get back to her. But I let her go. Stopped fighting out of fear. The deep black hole in my own heart ripped open wide.
My knees gave way, and Shaye was right there, guiding me onto the floor, navigating my head around the edges of the furniture. I curled into the fetal position and tore my fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. Sounds I didn’t know any human could make ripped from my throat. Tears—my tears—soaked into the carpet.
I felt myself falling, falling into the deep blackness that always threatened to consume me too. My last hope died, and the darkness rushed in.
EIGHTEEN
Julia
Ireached a ledge wide enough for a complete rest. I was forty feet from the ground and about fifteen feet from the top. I unclipped my Nalgene from the harness for a quick drink.
A gentle breeze pulled at my low ponytail, hanging out from under my helmet. We picked the perfect day for this. Yeah, it was hot as always, but the overcast sky made the climb more enjoyable. Blake and Gina were laughing about something below; he was on belay. A few other climbers dotted the rock face.
The mountain side was a little-known spot in East Tennessee. One we’d heard about by word of mouth. It was a refreshing change from our usual, crowded climbing spots, albeit the drive was long.
My gaze followed the rock up to the top. The last fifteen feet would be much easier than the previous forty. If I actually climbed to the left a little more, it would be like a bouldering section.
I could unclip and boulder it.
Adrenaline raced through my veins at the thought.
