bothered her.
This morning Dad had fixed her favorite breakfast: French toast and fruit, with powdered sugar and hot maple syrup. Dad could cook when he wanted to, and this morning he’d done almost as good a job as Grandma Ivy. Almost.
“How about a trip into Springfield this weekend?” he asked. “We can go to the mall and get some summer clothes, then catch a movie, maybe do the zoo while we’re there. They’ve got a new baby elephant.”
Tedi didn’t stir from her inspection of the roadside scenery. “You go ahead, Dad. Maybe Julie would like to go.”
“Julie doesn’t like elephants. You and I do.”
Tedi shrugged. “I’m not in the mood.”
Dad sighed. He slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. He turned on the flashers, then turned in his seat to face Tedi.
“Aren’t you even going to let me try to make up for yesterday? I should never have scared you like that.”
“You were drinking.” She watched a robin hopping along the wire fence beside the road.
“That’s no excuse.”
Tedi turned to look at him then and almost gave in at the pleading look in his eyes, the sorrowful expression on his face. But she knew that could all change in a second. She was tired of it. “I’m not excusing you, Dad. I’m telling you that your drinking scares me. I’m still scared. I don’t know when it’s going to happen again. I never know. That was a good breakfast this morning, and Springfield could be fun, but nothing makes up for being scared of my own father. You get mad too easy when you’re drinking.”
His intent blue eyes held hers for a moment. “What’ll make it up to you? How about I lay off the booze for a while?”
She bit her lip and took a deep, long breath. Here it comes. “How about I go live with Mom until you’re off the booze?” She continued to hold his gaze so he’d know she meant it.
He looked away first, but not before she saw a flash of anger in his expression. Big surprise. She braced herself for another temper tantrum.
“She doesn’t want you,” he said quietly.
Tedi caught her breath. She hadn’t been braced for that. “Why not?”
He didn’t look back at her. “She’s too busy with her job.” His voice was bitter. “Got to make the almighty buck. You’ll just slow her down.” He turned off the flashers and signaled to pull back onto the highway.
“You’re lying! If I ask her to, she’ll take you back to court for custody.”
A break came in the traffic, but Dad didn’t take it. His face lost color until it nearly matched the shade of his short, light blond hair. “She’ll be sorry if she does.” He looked down at Tedi with narrowed eyes. “Don’t forget why I have custody in the first place—mental patients don’t make good parents.”
Tedi almost said, “Neither do drunks,” but she remembered yesterday.
“And public opinion matters here in Knolls,” he continued. “She’s spent these past five years trying to rebuild her practice after the last custody battle. She won’t thank you if she loses it all again.” He pulled out onto the road at last.
Tedi said nothing more until they reached Grandma Ivy’s church—Covenant Baptist—at the edge of Knolls. Grandma and Mom stood outside the building waiting for her. She waved at them, then released her seat belt and opened the door.
Someday she would learn to shut her mouth and keep it shut, but not today. Today she was mad.
“You know, Dad,” she said as she stepped from the car, “if Mom lost her job, we’d all be in big trouble.” She slammed the car door as hard as she could and turned toward the church.
Seconds later, Dad gunned the motor. The tires spun on blacktop.
Tedi waved at her mother and grandmother and wished her father would drive out of her life forever.
Lukas Bower hated the term “backseat Baptist.” It implied a person one step away from backsliding. Although Lukas always preferred to sit at the periphery of the congregation, he by no means felt himself to be at the spiritual edge of God’s family. Just because he was shy did not mean he was not a sincere Christian.
On the other hand, he knew he had a lot of growing to do before he was a mature Christian.
It was a moot point in this church today, since this was not a worship service.
The first strains of soft organ music reminded him of the circumstances leading up to today’s funeral, and he had the typical critique session with himself. He could have shown more compassion to Ivy Richmond during Mrs. Conn’s final hour. He could have tried harder to reassure Mrs. Conn during those short moments of lucidity—if indeed she had truly been lucid.
He could not, however, have been more aggressive with the code. Ivy Richmond probably disagreed, but he could do nothing about her sentiments, much as he would like to. She obviously possessed a great deal of power at the hospital, and he didn’t have enough insight into her character to know how she might play that power. She was strong willed, much like another, younger woman with power whose influence had affected his career with devastating ease. Best not to allow his thoughts to wander in that direction.
Lukas couldn’t decide whether to approach the Richmond ladies with his condolences after the service or to leave them in peace today. The latter course looked more favorable as more and more people filled the auditorium, and the old, familiar prickling of self-consciousness made him wonder why he had even bothered to come. No one would have expected him to. He’d lost other elderly patients and hadn’t felt it necessary to see them off. Doctors didn’t do this kind of thing, especially not for someone they didn’t even know.
Dr. Mercy Richmond, however, was a colleague, and although she had covered her feelings well on the day of her grandmother’s death, he had identified with her loss. He’d had several recollections of his mother’s death three years ago. Maybe that was why he was here.
A shadow loomed low outside the window near his seat, then pulled up at the last second—a robin on a strafing run. Her aerodynamics put modern technology to shame, just as God’s design of the human body made modern medicine look like kids playing with a chemistry set from Toys “R” Us. Lukas felt that way sometimes, as if he were playing games with the lives of his patients. But he wasn’t playing. Some people had even complained that he took things far too seriously, and perhaps they were right. But how could he behave any other way?
The robin sidled along the roof guttering, oblivious to Lukas and the rapidly filling auditorium. She used her beak to toss rotted leaves out onto the yard. Then she selected some good stems she could carry and flew to a neighboring tree.
Maybe Lukas could entice the robins to clean out the guttering on his new house. Guess one could say the guttering had gone to the birds, he spent so little time there. He’d never been good at home maintenance, mostly because he seldom paid attention to his surroundings. He’d spent too much time in hospitals these past few years. But home was lonely and had been for a long time.
He needed to force himself to get out and meet people, take
