A man shuffled along the Eastern Shore of Maryland near St. Michaels. Bent against the sharp March wind, he walked like a man much older than his sixty-two years. He wore a down jacket but no hat. His eyes and cheeks stung from the cold, which stubbornly refused to yield to spring. This place, so close to the sea and still part of the bay, had always called to him. He would visit whenever he needed perspective.
Yet he seemed impervious to the heavy overcast and slate water of the Chesapeake Bay. His life as he knew it was over. In a way, he understood. He wasn’t at peace; he’d never be at peace. But he was resigned. For years he’d given as good as he got. Now it was reversed, and he was getting shafted left and right. The universe had its own way of self-correcting.
He hunched his shoulders against the wind and kept going, avoiding the driftwood on the beach, the shells, and the dead fish that the bay coughed up.
In the distance a figure appeared. A man. He wasn’t moving, just waiting. The hunched man assumed this was the end. As soon as he was within range, the guy would whip out a semiautomatic, and it would be over. He’d always anticipated this moment, idly wondering how he’d feel. Strangely enough, now that it was upon him, he felt nothing.
The man called out. “Dad? Is that you?”
Carl Baldwin frowned and closed in on the man. At first Carl didn’t recognize his son. Then as comprehension dawned, a panoply of emotions played across his face. Fear, then shame, then curiosity.
“Jeffrey? What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve come to take you home.”
Carl gazed at Jeffrey as if he thought the boy was crazy.
“I know what it’s like to want redemption. Someone gave it to me.” He hesitated. “It’s my turn to pay it forward.” He extended his hand to his father.
As the words slowly sank in, Carl understood the gift his son was offering. His eyes filled. He clasped his son’s hand and allowed him to lead the way.
Georgia threaded her way through the labyrinth of Evanston Hospital, where at least eight banks of elevators and serpentine halls that all looked identical undermined her sense of direction. She found her mother’s room on the third floor. Still in intensive care, JoBeth lay in one of a dozen rooms arranged clocklike around a central nurse’s station. Georgia stopped at the desk and conferred with the nurse on duty, who told her JoBeth was doing well, all things considered. The bullet had ruptured a kidney, which had to be removed. But, as Georgia no doubt knew, people could function with just one kidney. Her mother was conscious for longer periods of time now, and Georgia could pay her a short visit.
Georgia tentatively went to the entrance of the room. The door was open. The TV was on, but her mother’s eyes were shut tight. Georgia put on a mask over her nose and mouth and went in. She found the remote control and muted the sound. Her mother’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hi, Peaches,” she said weakly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a few eighteen-wheelers ran over me.”
“The nurse says you’re doing well, all things considered.”
“That’s what they’re telling me. A few more days and I’ll be out.”
“You never were one to overstay your welcome,” Georgia said dryly.
Her mother cocked her head, as if trying to figure out where Georgia was coming from.
“It was supposed to be a joke.”
“Ahh.”
Silence ping-ponged across the room. Then Georgia said, “I have a proposition for you.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows.
“Why don’t you overstay your welcome some more and recuperate at Jimmy’s apartment in Northfield? It’s only about fifteen minutes from Evanston. We can have someone come in a few hours a day, and Vanna and I can take turns the rest of the time.”
JoBeth gazed at her daughter. “Are you sure about this?”
Georgia told her the truth. “No.”
Her mother smiled.
“But you saved our lives. It’s our turn to save yours.”
“Even after everything?” When Georgia nodded, JoBeth said, “And what happens when I’m well again?”
Georgia sighed. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Neither do I,” JoBeth said.
“Then I guess we’ll have to figure it out.” Georgia paused. “One day at a time.”
“One day at a time.” Her mother smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” She closed her eyes.
Georgia watched her mother fall asleep. Then she tiptoed out the door.