THEO
DOWNSTAIRS IN THE STORE I picked up the phone, dialed the hospital, and said, “Bud Grearson’s room. This is Father Riley.”
“Checked himself out, against doctor’s orders,” the nurse snarked, “and he—”
“Thank you.” I slowly placed the receiver back in its cradle. There was nothing I could do for Imogene but stay by her side. What I wanted to do was wake Toreck from the dead and kill him again. I went to secure the lock on the freezer and opened the door to look at him. His mouth was swollen and green; his eyes still bulged open, and his hands clinched in fists. It was an appropriate death. I didn’t cross myself, say a prayer, or close his eyes. Instead, I slammed the door shut and locked it tight.
I tiptoed back to Tula’s room and sat in the chair next to Imogene’s bed. She was asleep, her curls matted against her face. She opened her eyes and glanced up at me.
“Theo,” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied taking her hand in mine. “I’m so sorry, love—”
“You?”
“I started all this mess.”
“No,” she said and gently shook her head. “He’d had it out for me for a long time.”
“What can I do?”
She opened her other hand, held up Kiernan’s soldier, and said, “Put that back in your pocket for safekeeping, and . . . tell me a story.”
In the lamp light the bruises on her face were more apparent. Why didn’t Toreck come after me? His fight was with me. I guess in the end he knew how to throw the hardest punch. “A story, huh?” I said.
“Tell me about your sad angel.” She tapped my arm where my angel lay sleeping under my sleeve. “You’ve never told me anything about Korea and those children.”
I took a deep breath, sat back in the chair, and said, “Okay . . . Well, it was ’51. You know, after Peters and I went missin’. We were lost in the T’aebaek Mountains. A lot of things happened, good and bad. One of the good things was that I got to know those kids, eighteen orphans. Anyway, cute kids. I read them your letter about that frying pan. They had no idea what I was reading, of course, but they listened with great curiosity. Then when I laughed, they all laughed.” My eyes suddenly burned with tears.
“Oh Theo,” Imogene said pulling her hand to her forehead. “Poor little things. You loved them. I hear it in your voice.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Most love stories are,” she said. “You talk. I love the way you tell stories, how you describe things. Please, describe everything. Take me out of my own head for a while.”
“Okay, just a little more.”
“Why sad angel?” she asked.
“Hmm . . . Couple reasons, really. Our nun explained to the children that I was an angel stricken from heaven to help them. It’s corny, I know . . . And, well . . . the nun, who I called Sister, said I was a sad angel, hence the tattoo.”
“Why did she think you were sad?”
“Because she knew I made a choice that cost me everything.”
“Andréa?”
“You need to sleep,” I said, tucking her blankets. “It’s the best thing for you right now.”
She struggled to keep her eyes open. The pain pills were finally taking hold.
“But—”
“I promise to tell you everything when you’re stronger.” I kissed her on the forehead.
“Check on Solomon,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.
“I will, love.”
“And Tula—”
“Right now,” I said as I opened the door, “you sleep.”
I didn’t mention Bud.
***
Pearl and Mrs. B sat at Imogene’s dinette in silence.
I poured a cup of tea and said, “She’s bein’ nosy. . . that takes energy.”
They both forced a smile.
“Good,” Mrs. B said, pouring brandy from her cane into her tea, then offering some to me. I held out my cup and she filled it. “Nosy is good.”
“Nobody going to miss dat man,” Pearl said.
“I know,” I said. “It’s not him I’m worried about.”
It was self-defense, but I didn’t want my sister to suffer further by way of scandal.
“It’s easy,” Mrs. B declared as she downed her “tea.” “I’m gonna get very drunk right now, and we’re going to tell Bud that I got out of control and killed him.” She grinned from ear to ear. “That’ll do it.”
“I love you, old woman,” I said. “Not that anyone would dare doubt you could have killed him, but not this time.”
“I know,” she said.
“Who has Tula May?” I asked.
“We called Netty,” Mrs. B said. “She’s keeping Tula tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll go check on Sol.”
“I did,” Mrs. B said. “He’s awake. He wants to see you.”
“Awake? Good,” I said. “Will you—”
“You know perfectly well we aren’t going anywhere,” she said.
Before leaving I opened the freezer door and stared at Toreck’s warped body. It’d only been an hour since I’d gripped my hands in tight judgment on his life. Should have felt regret, remorse; should have been on my knees begging for forgiveness, but instead, all I felt was relief that he was gone. But then I worried. With Toreck dead, would Hansel disappear or cause trouble? I locked the freezer again and headed to Solomon’s, wondering if I should tell Bud or just hide Toreck’s body? Already a dicey slope for a priest. Figured I may as well finish the job.