Hope offers him some reassurance. “Well, it was an... odd situation. Protocol sort of went out the window when a negotiator walked in with a dog.”
He chuckles at that. “Definitely a first time for everything. Still,” he says, “everyone got out safe with no use of force. That’s gotta feel like a win.”
“Yeah.” Hope smiles. “It does.”
“Would you, um, feel like going somewhere to celebrate after we wrap things up at the station?” he asks. Hope watches two spots of color appear on his cheeks.
“Actually, I’ve got a very important phone call I need to make,” she says. “To my husband.”
He holds up his hands. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Thank you, though,” she says, “for going in there with me.”
She waves goodbye and walks away from the post office, toward Brower, who, relieved of her traffic duty, has returned to her car and is waiting to drive Hope back to the station. But first Hope finds the call from earlier, as she walked to work, and hits Redial. Alex answers on the first ring.
“I was thinking,” Hope says, “that perhaps you could hand-deliver that piece of mail that came for me.”
She hears him exhale his relief into the phone. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 39
It is late by the time they all come together again. Hope had told them they could give their statements “real quick,” but that was only wishful thinking. The only thing slower than a police station is a hospital or the DMV.
The women reconvene outside, clustering on the sidewalk that leads to the dark parking lot. The press, the county personnel, and any lookie-loos are long gone. Some of their families are there to take them home, but they hang back out of respect, giving the five of them a few minutes to say their goodbyes. The families know they will have all the time in the world to hear the story of this day.
The women exchange contact numbers, make promises to see one another soon, and exchange hugs all around. All five women—Nadine, Morrow, Blythe, Sylvie, and Hope—shed a few tears. They aren’t guaranteed to see one another ever again, but as they part ways, each of them wants to. They have experienced something very few people have. They share something with one another that they will never share with anyone else. Lasting relationships have begun on less.
Nadine gets into her car and rolls down the windows. She can’t get enough of the fresh air, gulping it as she drives home alone.Her coworkers, Stacy and Martha, had sent word that she was welcome to come stay with either one of them, and Sylvie and Robert offered as well. But she wants time to herself. She’s had enough togetherness for one day. Plus, she is tired and wants to sleep in her own bed. Her boss said she could have the day off tomorrow. She might just sleep all day.
Driving the short distance to her little apartment, she tries not to think about what’s happening to Tommy at that very moment, tries not to think about what is to come. She was alone when this day started, and she is alone as it ends. But Tommy being incarcerated feels like a bigger alone, a more permanent one. Then she remembers, with a jolt, that she isn’t alone.
She places her left hand on her stomach and drives with her right hand on the steering wheel as she speaks to whoever is there. “I think your daddy might be gone a long time,” she says. “I don’t know for how long, but you should know he’d be here if he could. He loves you. He even loves me too, hard as that is to believe. He just made—well, he didn’t think, and now he’s going to have to answer for that. I guess it sounds funny for me to say this, but deep down, he’s a good man. A good man who did some dumb things, for sure. Things that will affect you. And I’m sorry for that.”
Nadine feels the sharp sting of tears pricking her eyes at the thought of all that today has wrought. There are things she would maybe do differently if she could, but she can’t. And that’s the way it is. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the night air that blows through her open windows. She thinks about that air oxygenating her blood, traveling to her baby and helping him or her grow.
“But I’ll be here,” she says aloud. “I won’t be a perfect mama, but I’ll do my best every single day. I’ll make you that promise right here and now.”People, Nadine thinks,don’t like to break a promise.
Morrow decides to ride home with Kevin and Maya and collect her car tomorrow. She tells Kevin they need to make a stop on their way home, directing him to turn the opposite way they would usually go. Both Kevin and Maya give her quizzical looks in response.
“Mom,” says Maya. “Everything is closed.” It is true. They roll up the sidewalks in Sunset Beach as soon as it gets dark.
Morrow fishes around in her tote bag and produces the package. She hands it over the seat to Maya, who is sitting behind her. Maya reaches to take it at the same time she registers what her mother has handed her. She takes in the logo on the front, then looks at her mother.
“We can put this in the mailbox outside,” Morrow tells her. “It’s been weighed and has the correct postage on it, so it’s all ready to go.”
Maya stares down at the package. “This is why you were there?” she asks without looking up. “You were going to send this?”
From his seat, Kevin cranes his head to see what she’s referring to, his eyes darting from the road to the back seat and back again. “What is it?” he asks.
“It’s”—Maya looks up at her mother, gives her a smile—“a long story,” she says.
Kevin slows down as they near the post office. “So am I turning in or not?”
“Shall we?” Morrow asks her daughter and points to the package.
“Eh,” says Maya. “I’m pretty tired. Aren’t you tired, Mom?”
Since they’ve arrived at the post office, Kevin turns in anyway, the headlights of their car illuminating the building. Morrow’sstomach clenches in response to the sight. “I am pretty tired,” she admits.
