It took a while for Fisk to realize that Lauren was gone.
He thought nothing of her being absent the first couple of hours of work. She had her grandfather to consider. In fact, he’d almost texted her to tell her he’d watch Bonita while she visited the hospital, but he’d hesitated, and she hadn’t asked. She must have gotten Jodi to watch the baby again.
When she didn’t call and didn’t communicate by noon, he was...off. He was used to having her around. And sure, they weren’t that busy now; it was Christmas week, and thanks to her, they were pretty much caught up. Most people were deep into their holiday preparations and wouldn’t be placing new orders this week. He would deliver the last couple of items later today, and then he’d be done.
Nemo kept looking toward the door, and once, he jumped his paws up to the windowsill to look in the direction of Gramps and Lauren’s house.
Late afternoon, Fisk couldn’t stand it anymore. He left Nemo at home and went to the hospital, where he learned that Gramps was doing well but couldn’t accept any more visitors today. Jodi was turned away at the same time, so he asked how she was doing caring for Bonita.
“I’m not,” she’d said. “Well, I did yesterday, and it was great, but I haven’t seen her or Lauren today.”
He checked with an orderly he knew and learned that Lauren hadn’t been in to visit Gramps today, either.
What?
Was she...gone?
It was hard to fathom that she’d leave her grandfather alone on the eve of surgery.
She would leave Fisk, for sure. That would be right of her. He’d made it clear they had no chance of a relationship.
Still, for her to ditch a job without notice was unlike her.
He also didn’t think she was the kind of person who’d leave a friend or relative without any kind of reason why.
Maybe something had happened to her. He texted Gramps and his brothers and a few other friends, asking if they knew where Lauren was.
There was some worried chatter on the group text, and then Gramps silenced it. Lauren was okay, he said. She and Bonita had headed out of town to visit a relative. She was safe and enjoying herself.
As Fisk walked out of the hospital, he checked his text messages again and there was one from Lauren. She apologized for forgetting to let him know she needed a little time off.
He made his final deliveries and then found himself driving around in his truck. He didn’t want to go home.
Nothing had happened to Lauren, which was a huge relief. But she’d left him in the lurch. He couldn’t depend on her.
Not that he should. He had no right to expect it. They had no real commitment to each other, even professionally.
How had she infiltrated his life and his heart so quickly?
In the face of this kind of emptiness, Fisk knew only two possible places to go. Into a bottle, as he’d done in the past. Or to the Lord.
He’d missed church yesterday, and he figured the sanctuary would be locked. The church office was closed on Mondays, and this week, everyone would be resting up for the big push of Christmas Eve and Day.
There was one place, though, where the church was always open, and where spiritual wisdom abounded. He turned down the road toward his grandmother’s nursing home.
He was in the chapel, praying, when someone gripped his shoulder.
“What are you doing in here when you don’t have to be?”
It was his grandmother.
“Just looking for a church.” He stood and kissed her downy cheek. “I know I can pray anywhere, but sometimes having the right environment helps. Plus I get to see you. Get your take on some things.”
“Happy to listen.” She leaned her head against him for just a second. Then she straightened. “When you’re done talking to the Man upstairs, come to my room.”
“I will.” He hugged her.
After she left, he did what he knew he should do as a Christian: he prayed for forgiveness. For all the wrongs he’d done, but especially, for Scarlett and Di.
He’d done it before, many times. He knew intellectually that he was forgiven; could cite verses about it. The Bible said that if he forgave others, and confessed his own sins, he’d be forgiven. Forgiveness of sins was what Christ had died for.
So why couldn’t he feel it?
He’d worked hard, so hard. With God’s help, he’d pulled himself up out of alcoholism. He’d started a business, partly as a way to redeem himself in the community, and with Lauren’s help he’d fulfilled all of his Christmas orders.
But hard work wouldn’t lead to happiness and fulfillment, not by itself. He still felt empty. Still felt like a bad person.
Lauren had left. Well, he was upset, but not surprised. It was retribution for what he’d done. Or rather, what he’d not done.
Now he had to make the best of the part of his life he had left. Not only did he have to contribute to society, help and serve others, but he also needed to be content while doing it. God had made him and walked beside him. That had to be enough.
His discontent, he figured, was an insult to God. So he prayed for forgiveness for that, too.
When he stood up, he felt marginally better.
He headed toward his grandmother’s room, planning on a quick chat. He needed to get home, and 8 p.m. was late for her.
“Fisk! In here!” A voice tugged him toward a large lounge area, where at least ten women were gathered. Some stood around a table of food, while others sat doing some kind of craft.
Gramma was in the craft group. He sat down beside her and put an arm lightly around her shoulders. He squinted at the red, white and green yarn in front of her. “What are you working on?”
“My book club—that’s these ladies—we’re in charge of the decorations at Christmas dinner. And we’re behind schedule.” She held up a knitted flower. “We’re supposed to make these for every person attending, but I don’t think we’ll get there.”
“We could make something quicker,” one of the other ladies suggested.
“Like a bookmark.” That idea came from Penny Hamlin, librarian of the residential facility.
“That’s simple,” Fisk said. “Even I could do that.”
His grandmother raised her eyebrows, then dug in her bag and held out a couple of knitting needles. “Do you need me to cast on for you?”
He hadn’t expected her to take him seriously. “Uh...sure. Yes, please.”
Fisk knew how to knit, or at least, he remembered it after watching Penny for a couple of minutes. Another soldier had taught him when they’d faced long stretches of boredom in the Middle East. When Gramma handed him the needles with a short row of stitches cast on, his hands found the rhythm quickly.
While they knitted, Fisk asked questions, and the women talked comfortably. The book club met every month, sometimes more often. They were the “fun” book club; there was another one whose members prided themselves on heavy religious and philosophical texts, but Gramma’s club always chose popular fiction, mysteries being their current favorite. “Plus, we have better food,” Penny explained. “You should get a plate and take some home. We have at least four different cakes.”
“I’d definitely choose this club,” Fisk assured them.
“You’ve sure changed,” said one of the other women who was dressed in athletic clothes. “You used to come in here drunk as a skunk.”
Fisk winced. “I apologize for that. To all of you.”
“Well, you were funny,” Gramma said. “But I like you better sober.”
The others nodded agreement. “And you’re a lot more productive at crafting than you used to be.” Penny pointed at Fisk’s bookmark, which had grown by a couple of inches already while they’d been talking.
Fisk marveled at the women’s easy forgiveness of his former obnoxiousness, and their acceptance that he was a changed man. It felt like fresh, cold water flowing over him.
They’d forgiven him. God had forgiven him. Could he finally forgive himself?
He handed his bookmark off to his grandmother to finish. “Can I pick you up and bring you to the Wilkins Christmas Eve tomorrow?”
She raised her eyebrows. “At your mom and dad’s? No, thank you.”
“We talked them into doing an early version of their party,” Fisk explained. “The afternoon will be family-friendly. We can leave before it gets wild later.”
“We’d still have time to go to church Christmas Eve?”
“Yes. That’s part of why we talked them into the change.”
“Then I’ll go, and thank you,” Gramma said, and they made arrangements for a pickup time and place.
Just a few days ago, he’d actually invited Lauren to the party. That had been part of his thinking in advocating for the early version of the party, too. Family-friendly meant Lauren-friendly. He didn’t want to expose her to anything ugly.
Now that connection with her seemed to have dissolved.
They hadn’t known each other long, after all. They’d shared one kiss. There were no expectations between them, or there shouldn’t have been.
Only now that the thing between them was gone did he realize that he had been developing expectations, or at least hopes. Their collapse left a hole in him that ached sometimes and throbbed sometimes, but was always there. Take it away, Lord, if it’s Your will.
If the Lord didn’t take it away, then Fisk would just have to learn to bear the emptiness. Or...could he push for Lauren somehow, fight for her?
Lauren returned to Holiday Point midday on the twenty-fourth, with a brand-new friend in tow. Two of them, actually. Cerise Johnson was the type who’d never met a stranger, and her three-year-old daughter seemed to have inherited the social gene. The daughter and Bonita had laughed and played during the entire car ride from Baltimore to Holiday Point.
Lauren’s cousin had started researching immediately after hearing from Lauren. Carrie had unearthed Cerise’s story and contacted her, and Cerise had been happy to meet with them, especially when Lauren had told her Fisk’s version of that awful day’s events.
She was even happy to make the trip up from Baltimore with Lauren. She was willing, even eager, to share her slightly different version of the tragic day with Fisk. Plus, she had family in Uniontown and welcomed the ride to visit them.
And so here they were, pulling up to the Wilkins family party at Fisk’s parents’ house.
In the end, Lauren couldn’t just drop Cerise off at the Wilkins party and pick her up in an hour, as she’d planned. Not when she saw the crowd. Cam’s family and Alec’s, a few people she’d met at the diner, Fisk’s grandma and his parents. There were lots of kids and several dogs. And of course, Fisk himself. He was circulating, talking to everyone.
With all those people, there was a real possibility that Cerise, who used a cane due to leg issues stemming from the shooting, would be knocked right off her feet. Plus the party was being held outside, in the unseasonably warm December air, with a bonfire burning. Nice, but there was a lot of mud and uneven ground that could trip Cerise up.
The real truth was, Lauren couldn’t resist staying in Fisk’s vicinity, once she’d seen him. She wanted to know what happened when Cerise told her story.
So she got Bonita out of her car seat and walked with her toward the party, just behind Cerise and her toddler.
In addition to their research in Baltimore, she and Carrie had gone shopping. Bonita had a new Christmas outfit, red-and-white striped tights and a frilly red dress with a white lace collar.
She looked adorable. People stopped them to say so, and Bonita flung her arm out and twirled and smiled, basking in the attention. She was no shrinking violet, and Lauren was glad. Bonita was going to do something big someday.
Lindsay, the teenager who’d taken care of Bonita before, was here, apparently because she was friends with a Wilkins cousin. She swooped Bonita up and insisted on carrying her around, to Bonita’s delight.
Fisk, Cam and Alec stood around their parents, basically encircling them, talking seriously. When they all finally laughed, Lauren felt a boost inside. Maybe they were starting to work it out. That would be so, so good for Fisk.
There was another brother, Frank, who never came home due to all the family issues. Maybe the family could repair itself enough to heal that rift.
When the conversation among the brothers and their parents broke up, Lauren took a few sideways steps to where she was in Fisk’s line of sight.
He looked at her and visibly jolted. Was he that surprised to see her? He’d mentioned this party to her a few days ago and though he’d said she probably wouldn’t enjoy it, the invitation had seemed to be open still.
Cerise was off chatting with someone—that “never met a stranger” thing—so Lauren faced Fisk alone, watching as he spoke to someone and then marched over.
“I thought you were gone,” he said.
She shook her head. “I told you I might take some days off when the rush was over.” She said it guiltily because she knew she’d told him when he wasn’t paying attention.
Right before leaving, she’d thought she should at least call him, but she hadn’t wanted to get into a big, involved discussion about why she might be leaving. She was afraid she’d reveal too much. So she’d just sent a vague text and taken off.
Which was unprofessional and rude. “I’m sorry. I should have discussed it with you before I took off.”
“Yeah.”
“It was for a good reason, believe me.”
Fisk studied her, looked away, and then looked back. “You’re under my skin. I feel it when you leave.”
Not what she’d expected him to say. She could barely look away from his intense eyes and then she had to, because she felt way too breathless. “I’m actually here for a reason,” she said. “I’d like for you to meet someone.”