28

Claire Bassett

The calendar had turned to November, my second Thanksgiving without Andrew.

It was too cold for Isabella to wait at the bus stop, so I drove her to school. The wind whistled through my loose car window. I’d need to have that repaired. My spirits matched this gray, agitated day. Like the wind, I moved without going anywhere. Icy fingers of cold attacked my windshield, requiring my defrosters to dissolve them. Would anything soften the icy fingers grabbing at my heart?

Every visit to St. John’s came up empty, so I’d decided not to return. Don promised to call should Andrew appear. Until then, I waited, married but with no husband, unsure if it was better or worse knowing he lived on the streets. It had torn me apart when I thought he could be dead. Yet knowing he was out there, wasting away and freezing…I couldn’t erase that image from my mind.

Pulling up to the drop-off, I helped Bella retrieve her little backpack, kissed her good-bye, and watched her walk the isolated path to the early arrival room. A caregiver waited at the door to greet her, waved to me, and then they disappeared into the red brick building.

The office became a distraction from the horrors of my life. My coworkers may have thought me to be aloof, but I had fallen into the pattern of keeping to myself. Forming friendships and making small talk always led to discussions I didn’t want to have.

Jonathan was a perfect gentleman, and I was grateful. “Hey, Claire. Did your kids like seeing the snow?”

We made small talk. That’s what we did these days. He continued to touch base with me often but had stopped any form of flirting. He no longer mentioned dinner or touched my hand. And yet, the touch of another person would have gone a long way toward melting the ice forming around my heart.

A few minutes of small talk and he walked back to his office, his absence increasing the melancholy that followed me to work that day.

A few hours later, I heard my name mentioned at the front desk.

“I’m looking for Claire Bassett.” The voice belonged to a man.

“Claire’s desk is back there, last one on the left.”

I heard the clunk of footsteps before I saw him in my limited cubicle view. A well-dressed man, tall with a clean look and a dimpled chin.

I stood as he approached. “I’m Claire. Can I help you?”

“My name is Scott Harrington. Is this a good time and place to talk with you?”

I eyed him with suspicion. “Regarding?”

“Regarding Andrew.”

While I felt the skip in my heartbeat, I still approached this conversation with reservation. If he’d come to tell me Andrew was homeless and freezing on the streets, I already knew that.

I motioned to the door he’d just entered. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” I led the way, and he followed. Walking past the front desk, I called to Susie. “I’m taking a short break. I’ll be back soon.”

We continued to an empty conference room used for student advisement. I motioned to the chair.

“Please, sit. Do you know Andrew? Do you know where he is?” While desperate for the answer to that question, I remained guarded.

“He’s at my home, staying with me. Temporarily.”

My eyes betrayed me as they pooled with unshed tears. I covered my mouth. I had lost the ability to form words into a logical thought.

“He’s hurting, Claire. He needs help.”

I nodded, recovering from the shock. Of course he needed help. “Does he want help? Is he ready for it?”

“Yes, he is. He doesn’t know I’m seeing you. He’s convinced you’ve moved on and that he can’t return.”

“When can I see him? I can leave here now.”

“I think tomorrow would be better. There are some things I have to do today that are taking me away from home.”

“I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I wait.”

Scott wore a burdened look. “He won’t disappear.”

I would have said the same thing a year ago. “Please don’t let him leave. My biggest fear is he’ll run again.”

“He won’t run. He’s befriended an old man who’s at my house getting hospice care. D.J. won’t run out on Pete.”

But he ran out on me. “D.J.? Is that what he calls himself?”

“Yeah, it’s what he’s been going by.”

“Drew. Our baby. He’s sixteen months old now. Those are his initials. We debated whether to call him Andrew, Jr., D.J., or Drew. We decided on Drew.”

He pulled out his wallet and retrieved a business card. “Here’s the address. What time do you want to come? I’ll arrange some privacy.”

“Nine? I can drop Isabella at school and come from there.”

“Nine it is.”

“Will he know? Are you telling him we met?”

He appeared to ponder that and shook his head.

“No, Claire. Let’s just do it. I think the element of surprise would be better. If he knows, he’ll spend a lot of time worrying.”

As he left the conference room, I clasped my hands in front of my face. This is what I’d hoped for. It would happen tomorrow.

~*~

I packed my things to leave early. I didn’t know what would become of my job. Once I had Andrew in my grips, I’d be afraid to leave him.

I glanced around my little cubicle, my refuge from the reality of life. The plaque still sat atop the desk. The earth laughs in flowers. Maybe spring would come.

Who knew what tomorrow held. I should see Jonathan before I left. His schedule said that he had office hours right now. He may have had a student meeting with him, but I took the chance and walked up the hallway that held the professors’ offices. He was alone in his office and working at his computer.

He glanced up at the slight rap on the door, his eyes widening. He gave a tentative smile. “Well this is a pleasant surprise.”

I pulled his windowless office door until it clicked. “Mind if I sit for a few minutes?”

Without answering, he came out from behind his desk and sat in the chair across from me. “Do you think I would ever mind that?”

I smiled at his sweetness, not sure how to begin.

“Are you OK, Claire? I’ve been worried about you.”

That exemplified Jonathan, his sweet caring nature. “I think so. A lot of things are going on right now. I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me. But I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“I do. There’s so much you don’t know. I’ll start with my daughter’s fifth birthday party. We had a small family gathering. An hour before the rest of our family planned to arrive, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law came early to help me set up. We were close in those days. “

Jonathan listened as I rambled on. “I thought we might need more ice cream, so I asked Andrew to run to the store before anyone else came. Matthew and Jenny were arriving. Jenny came into the house. Her daughter, Ellory stayed out with her dad.”

I squeezed my eyes against the scene about to come. “I never heard the hit, but I heard Matthew screaming. Jenny darted out the door before me, and her screams followed.”

Jonathan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

I went on to tell him the horrid details. “When the doctor said she was gone, Matthew went crazy. He attacked Andrew, pushed him against the wall, and called him a murderer. He said it should have been his own daughter, my Bella.”

Jonathan reached for my hand, shaking his head against the awful picture.

“Andrew wasn’t held liable. The investigation called it an accident. But he went downhill, every day for three weeks. The deepest depression held him, he stopped talking, and sometimes didn’t get out of bed. After three weeks, he disappeared.”

I told him the rest, the cell phone picture, canvasing the city, St. John’s. And today’s visit from Scott Harrington. I would be seeing Andrew tomorrow and hoped to bring him home.

We both knew this meant the end of any possibility of a future. And yet sweet Jonathan, who for some reason adored me, was the most gracious friend.

“I am so, so sorry for all you’ve been through. I wish you’d told me sooner. You know how I love my little niece, Hannah. I can’t fathom being in that position. I may have done what your husband did. What can I do to help you, Claire?”

“You have done more than you will ever know. I have something I want to give you.”

I reached into my pocket and retrieved the note I, for some unknown reason, had kept. I handed it to him and he read aloud his own words. “You brought light into my darkness.”

Looking puzzled, he said, “I wrote this for you.”

“Yes, and those are the exact words I want to say to you. You kept me going, kept shining light into my dark world. I’m giving that back so you’ll know what you’ve meant to me.”

Our eyes locked until I stood. “I need to go. Thank you for being you.”

I stepped into his hug. He held me, brushed his lips across my cheek. I separated from the closeness. I was a wife, and my husband waited. He walked me to the office door, held it open, and squeezed my hand.

“Good-bye Claire. I’ll be praying for you and for your husband.”

~*~

I told my parents that night but refused to have them accompany me. Instead, they entertained the kids that evening.

Once in my bedroom, I hit the floor with my knees, folded my hands, and rested them on the side of the bed.

“Lord, please, please let him still be there. Help me to find words to say, words to show him there’s help and hope. To show him how much I love him. Ready his heart to see me. Let him know the reality of forgiveness. Yours, mine, and Jenny’s.”