“You can call him Alex. That’s what we’re calling him. We found out pretty quick he doesn’t like the name Leo.”
I want to laugh. To smile. To cry. To scream.
“How are things working out?” Papa says kindly but with a measure of displeasure. It’s been eight weeks since Alex left us, and we’ve heard nothing from him or about him.
Cal shakes his head. “Well, that’s why I’m here. They’re not exactly working out.”
“What do you mean? What’s happened? What’s wrong?” I practically shout these three questions. I am picturing Alex cowering in a closet, or wasting away because he’s not eating, or crying himself to sleep every night.
Papa touches my arm to calm me. “How can we help?” he says.
“It was wrong what happened to my boy all those years ago. But it was wrong what happened to him now, too. I see that,” Cal says. “He doesn’t know us. He doesn’t love us or trust us. You’re the people he loves and trusts. My parents got no call to raise that boy just because they want back what they think is theirs. Fact is, he’s not theirs. Alex is mine. Only mine. And if Ines was still alive and she and I had spent the last seven years searching for our son, it’d be different. But she’s gone,and I had to move on. I have a new family and a new life now. Just like this boy was given a new family and a new life when you took him in. I’m not saying I don’t want to be a part of Alex’s life. I do. I want to take him fishing and maybe to a baseball game now and then. I want him to grow up knowing his little brother. I want him to learn to love me and trust me.” Cal turns to face me. “But I want him to live here with you. With all of you. This is where he wants to be.” He turns to Papa again. “So what I’m asking you is, will you take him back? Can he live here?”
I want to slap this man for not wanting Alex and hug him for the same reason, even though I know what he truly wants is for Alex to be happy. I don’t know if he’s making the right choice or the easy choice. All I know is he wants Alex to come home. I wait to see what Papa says.
Papa rubs his chin for a second. “Alex will always be welcome here,” he finally replies. “This is his home for as long as he wants it to be. I’m sure we can work out the finer details.”
Cal exhales a breath of relief. “I’m so glad to hear that. I’d like to tell him and my parents today if that’s all right. Maybe bring him over tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Papa says.
Cal puts out his hand for Papa to shake it. “Thank you. You all did a fine job of raising my boy. Better than I was raised, I can tell you. I don’t mind that I’m having to call him Alex.”
Papa swallows a knot of emotion. “He’s a wonderful boy. I hope you know we love him like our own.”
“See?” Cal says. “That’s just the thing. You all love him. And he loves you.” Then he turns to me. “And I want to thank you for saving him back when you did. I used to be an angry man at what I’d lost over the years. I’d forgotten how to see anything good in my life. But I’m seeing the good more and more these days. I realize now that Alex surely would have died of that flu if it weren’t for you.”
“I’m sorry I was part of the reason you were so angry,” I carefully reply.
Cal shrugs. “I guess all of us are just doing the best we can with what life hands us.”
We walk Cal Dabney to the door. He tells us he’ll be back tomorrow around five o’clock if that’s all right. Papa asks him if he’d like to bring his new wife and baby to dinner the following weekend, and he says, “That sounds mighty nice.”
When the door closes, I turn to Papa. “Did that just happen?”
He smiles. Then laughs. Strokes his chin. Shakes off a silver line of tears glimmering at his eyes. “We’d better get back to getting the parlor ready. The family will be here any minute.”
He heads back to resume the work we were doing when the doorbell rang, but I want to fling open the door and run across the boulevard to the accounting office. I want to tell Jamie. Because this is what lovers do. When something good happens, and even when something bad happens, you want to share it with the person who holds your heart.
I will help Papa move the deceased woman into the parlor. I will make sure she looks as peaceful as a dreamer. I will position the flowers so that she will appear to have merely been found napping in a garden among the butterflies, and then I’ll run across the street to Jamie. When Willa comes home from school I’ll tell her that Alex is coming back to us, and maybe she will at last let go of the anger she guards like a prized possession. And when Evie comes home tonight, I will tell her, and I’ll ask how her grand experiment is going so far.
I don’t know what Alex’s return will mean for me and Jamie. Who can ever say to the letter what the future holds? It is the same with Evie and this man named Conrad whom she loves. We are all doing the best we can with what life hands us. That’s all we’ve ever been able to do. This is how we live our story.
Papa and I move the deceased woman into place. I look down at the body in the casket and tighten a curl on her forehead, straighten a fold, reposition a hand. There.
She is ready.
