eight
Peyton hung up the phone and sat silently for a couple of minutes in one of many wood-and-glass phone booths lining a wall of the hospital lobby. His call hadn’t gone as he had hoped. Lisa wasn’t home. Even worse, her mother said she would be spending the summer with family in Miami. And here he sat on a Friday afternoon, wondering what she was doing and who she was with instead of getting ready for a date.
His mother didn’t need the burden of his own disappointment, and he wasn’t sure he could hide it just yet, so he headed for the hospital cafeteria to collect himself. With a Coke and a piece of pecan pie from the cafeteria line, he took a seat at a table next to a plate-glass window overlooking a hallway filled with portraits of men Peyton didn’t recognize—all wearing suits or white coats. Probably the board of directors or something.
“Hey, mister, could Jasper here have a bite o’ your pie?”
Peyton turned to see two children standing beside his table. The little girl looked maybe six or seven years old. She was a pretty child, with big blue eyes and long blonde hair in need of a comb. Her cotton dress was frayed around the hem, and there was a button missing from the front. She wore dingy white sneakers with a small hole in the right toe. Clutching her hand was a boy who looked younger—maybe three or four—but had the same blue eyes and blond hair as the girl. He wore jeans, patched and threadbare, and a T-shirt that looked a couple of sizes too big for him.
“Hey there,” Peyton said with a smile. The children didn’t smile back.
“Jasper ain’t had nothin’ to eat since yesterd’y, and he’s real hungry,” the girl said. “Can he please have a bite o’ your pie?”
Peyton slid his plate toward the boy. “He can have all of it. How ’bout you? You hungry too?” The girl nodded as the little boy devoured the pie, eating it with his hands. “Y’all wait right here. I’ll be back in a second.”
Hurrying through the cafeteria line for fear the children would leave, Peyton filled a tray with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls, chocolate cake, and two Cokes. They were still there, patiently waiting at his table, when he returned. Their eyes opened wide when they saw the food.
“There you go,” Peyton said.
“This here’s all for us?” the little girl asked.
“All yours.”
The children dug in to the food, and Peyton watched in silence until they finally began to slow down.
“What’s that there?” The girl pointed to a bottle of Coke. Until then, Peyton hadn’t noticed that neither of the children had taken a drink.
“It’s a Coke—something good to drink,” he explained.
The girl only blinked at him as the boy licked chocolate icing off his fingers.
“Just take a sip,” Peyton said. “I think you’ll like it.”
She cautiously lifted the bottle and took a sip. A smile broke across her face. “It’s bubbly and sweet,” she said. “I like it.”
“Thought you might.”
The girl turned to her companion. “Try it.”
The little boy stopped licking chocolate off his hands and took a sip of Coke. Immediately, he started giggling, which made Peyton laugh.
“Wipe your mouth, Jasper,” the girl said. The little boy cleaned his face with a napkin.
“Are you two brother and sister?” Peyton asked.
“My name’s Bonnie, and this here’s my brother Jasper,” the girl said. “I’m seven and he’s four, but Mama calls us her twins on accounta we look so much alike.”
“Pleased to meet y’all. My name’s Peyton.”
“That’s a funny name. You named after somebody?”
“Never thought to ask,” Peyton said with a shrug. “What are y’all doin’ at the hospital?”
“Weren’t no other place for us to go. Daddy took a tumble down at the mill where he works, and they brung him here on accounta this place has a ward for people like us that ain’t got no money to pay. Our other brothers and sisters is old enough to look after theyselfs, but Mama says me and Jasper’s too little and we gotta stay here with her.”
“Your daddy doing okay?”
“Yeah, but the doctor says he’s always gonna walk with a limp. And he done lost his job. The mill fires people like Daddy that gets hurt and misses a bunch o’ work.”
“How’d y’all end up roaming around this place all by yourselves?”
“Just did,” Bonnie said, shaking her head. “Mama’s busy lookin’ after Daddy up in that ward, and Jasper was hungry, so somebody needed to do somethin’. We slipped out when nobody was lookin’ and asked directions from ever’body till we found the eatin’ place.”
“Y’all live around Atlanta?” Peyton asked as Jasper reached for the cake Bonnie hadn’t finished and began peeling off the icing with his fingers.
“No, we live up on Pine Mountain. The ambulance brung Daddy here. My Uncle Willis brung the rest of us in his pickup truck. ’Course he had to get back to the farm, so we ain’t sure how we gettin’ home. Hitchin’, I reckon.”
“Wouldn’t that be mighty hard on your daddy with his bad leg?”
“You got it backwards,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “Daddy’s the one’s hard on us. If hitchin’s the only way to get home, I reckon that’s what we gonna do. How come you in here?”
“My daddy had an accident too.”
“I bet he don’t work in no mill.”
“No. He took a bad fall at home.”
Bonnie had another sip of her Coke and crinkled her nose. “I can’t get over them bubbles. I bet rich people like you knows about all kinda stuff that I ain’t never heard of.”
“I don’t really think o’ myself as rich.”
“That don’t mean you ain’t.”
“Fair enough. Say, Bonnie, is your daddy gonna be looking for work in Georgia when he gets well? Because I can help—I mean, I know grown folks who can.”
“Fifteen.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “That’s grown, silly. Two o’ my sisters got married when they was fifteen.”
“Okay, then, I guess I’m grown. Y’all going back to Pine Mountain?”
“No. Daddy’s got a cousin in Florida what told him there’s work down there in this place called Fort Lauderdale. I wonder if there’s any cowboys and Indians at the fort.”
“Probably not anymore,” Peyton said, smiling at her.
“Daddy says there’s always sunshine down in Florida and fruit on all the trees—you can just pull off the road and pick you some whenever you get hungry. He says Florida’s a land o’ plenty and he’s fixin’ to take his share.”
“When are y’all leaving?”
“You sure do ask a lotta questions. I don’t think I ever had nobody ask me so many questions.”
“I’m sorry—am I being nosy?”
“It’s okay,” Bonnie said, smiling at him. “I think you got a good heart.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because when people’s got black hearts, it shows in their eyes. There ain’t no light in ’em cause there ain’t no light inside. You got lots o’ light.”
“Thanks.” Peyton took a paper napkin and wiped a stray crumb from Bonnie’s chin. “I reckon I’d have to say the same about you. Tell you what—wait right here just a second.”
Peyton went back through the cafeteria line and got a box of fried chicken and rolls. As he paid the cashier, he asked to borrow a pen. Then he grabbed a few paper napkins and returned to Bonnie and Jasper.
“What you writin’ on that there napkin?” Bonnie asked, leaning across the table. Jasper was staring out the plate-glass window, pointing his finger at one after another of the portraits on the wall.
“I’m writing my name and my Uncle Jimmy’s phone number in Savannah. Well, he’s not really my uncle—he’s Daddy’s law partner—but I call him that, and he’ll know I sent you if you call him that too. If Florida doesn’t work out and y’all come back to Georgia, Uncle Jimmy can get your daddy a job. What’s his name?”
“Fountain Jarvis.”
“Alright then. I’ll let Uncle Jimmy know to be on the lookout for a call from Fountain Jarvis.” Peyton slid the napkin to Bonnie, who carefully folded it and tucked it into her pocket. Then he took another napkin and wrote a note to Bonnie’s mother, folded it, and tucked in some money from his wallet. “Put this in your pocket too.”
“We ain’t s’posed to take no handouts,” Bonnie said, frowning and crossing her arms across her chest. “Handouts makes Daddy look bad.”
“It’s not a handout,” Peyton said. “It’s a thank-you for keeping me comp’ny. I woulda had to eat all by myself if you and Jasper hadn’t come along. Sure is lonesome to eat by yourself.”
“It sure is.” She stared solemnly at Peyton. “How come you done all this for us?”
He thought about it for a second. “Because everybody oughta help everybody else when they can. You’d help me if I needed it, wouldn’t you?”
Bonnie slowly nodded. “I sure would. Things just ain’t never been where I could help nobody.”
“You’re helping your mama right now by takin’ care o’ Jasper. And you helped Jasper when you asked me to share my pie.”
“I guess I did,” Bonnie said with a big grin.
“How ’bout I walk y’all back to your mama and you take her this box o’ chicken?”
Bonnie and Jasper slid out of their seats as Peyton returned the pen to the cashier.
“Hey, Peyton,” Bonnie said as the three of them climbed onto the elevator, “who’s gonna show you the way back?”
“Reckon I’ll have to find it myself.”
“Well, well, well, you’re not easy to find—but I found you.”
Kate looked up to see her brother-in-law standing in the doorway of the waiting room. “Congratulations,” she said.
“I don’t care for your tone.”
“I think I can live with that.”
A satisfied smile slowly spread across his face, and Kate thought, If a snake could smile, it would smile exactly like that.
“Now, now, let’s be civil,” he said, pulling up a chair and reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a white envelope. “I’ve brought you something.”
She opened the envelope and read its contents, careful to control her reaction.
“It’s a subpoena,” he said.
“I can see that.”
“You’re to turn over all of Marshall’s medical records at once. The family has a right to prevent you from carrying out any risky surgeries or other procedures.”
“The family?”
“I speak for the family.”
“Assuming you listen for them too, you can report back that Marshall already had surgery, and it was a success.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched. “When?”
“A few days ago. His doctor expects him to make a full recovery.”
“That’s a lie. You know as well as I do he’ll never be mentally competent again.”
“Marshall’s competence is irrelevant now. He gave executorship of the estate to his firm, with Jimmy as the trustee. If you want to fight for control, you’ll have to take that fight to Jimmy. Marshall’s not in it anymore.”
Julian smirked at her. “He’d never give up control of all that money.”
“Actually, he did—right before he shipped out. He gave me his power of attorney and Jimmy control of the estate.”
Julian wasn’t smirking anymore. “There’s no way he would hand over everything we’ve built to someone outside the family.”
“All the building was done by Marshall and his father, and he cared enough about it to make sure it stayed in capable hands when he returned home from the service and needed a little time to adjust. Fortunately for you, he cares more about family than power.”
Julian stood up with such force that he knocked over his chair, which prompted an immediate response from the head nurse.
“What’s this!” she said as she pointed at the chair.
“Nurse Parsons, this is Marshall’s brother Julian,” Kate said.
The nurse gave her a nod as Julian picked up the chair. “I have business with my brother,” he said. “Take me to him.”
“Absolutely not,” the nurse answered.
“What do you mean? I’m his brother, and I have business with him.”
“Then you’d better get a hotel room, because he can’t have any visitors other than his wife and son for at least three more weeks.”
“That’s absurd. Get me his surgeon.”
“No.”
“I’ve had about enough—”
Julian was mid-sentence when Nurse Parsons stepped just outside the waiting room door and motioned for someone to join them. “Please escort this gentleman out of the hospital,” she said as two security guards came into the room.
“You can’t force me to leave!” Julian argued, angrily pointing his finger at the nurse.
“Hide behind a bush and watch me,” she said.
Before Julian could protest, the guards took him by each arm and all but carried him out of the waiting room. Kate could hear him sputtering all the way to the elevator.
She poured herself a cup of coffee from an urn in the waiting room and returned to the sofa, where she covered her legs with a blanket. Hospitals were always cold. Getting Marshall to this one—and getting him away from his family—was the best thing she could do for him right now. Maybe she should’ve tried a long time ago.
“How long was Uncle Julian here?” Peyton had returned to the waiting room.
“You saw him?”
“Two guards were hauling him off the elevator as I was getting on downstairs.” Peyton sat next to her on the sofa.
“He was here just long enough to remind me how much I despise him.”
“Ooh, feisty!” Peyton said with a grin. “Never heard you say that before.”
“I probably shouldn’t say it now, but it’s true. It’s a good thing he’s not as smart as he thinks he is, or he might really be dangerous.” She reached over and took Peyton by the hand. “How was Lisa?”
He didn’t answer.
“Son—did you call her?”
Peyton leaned his head against the wall behind them. “Yes, ma’am. I called her. But she wasn’t home. Her mama says she’s going away for the summer.”
“To where?”
“Miami.”
“Does she have family down there?”
“Apparently. Her mama said she’d be spending the summer with her cousins. But Lisa never said anything about that to me. Why didn’t she tell me at the hospital in Savannah when she came to visit?”
“Maybe she didn’t know. Could’ve been a last-minute invitation.”
“I doubt it. She told me her mama thinks we’re getting too serious.”
“Well . . . if the trip wasn’t Lisa’s idea, she’s probably missing you as much as you’re missing her.”
“Think I’m that lucky?”
She put her arms around him and hugged him. “I think you’re that special.”
“Sure hope you’re right.” He stretched out on the sofa, resting his head on her lap. “I’m so tired, Mama,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
She stroked his hair and looked down at him. “I feel like I’m a hundred and ten. But I reckon love gives you strength—either that or it kills you dead as a hammer.”
Suddenly, they were laughing together. Peyton was still giggling like a little kid as his mother tried to stop laughing and collect herself. Once she did, she hit him with a question that took him by surprise, something she seemed to do often these days. “Son, before Herschel left, he mentioned to me . . . that you might be planning a trip?”
Peyton stared up at the white ceiling, thinking about his answer. “Yes, ma’am. But he shouldn’t have told you just yet. I don’t want to worry you.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “Don’t be upset with the chief. He just wants to make sure you know what you’re getting into—and that you’re prepared.”
Peyton was looking up at her, trying to read her face. “You don’t want me to go, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said, “for all kinds of reasons that would be hard to explain. Everybody in the family—everybody in Savannah, for that matter—they talk about your dad’s ride like it was some great adventure with no hardship whatsoever. But he went through a lot on that trip, Peyton. Most of it, he never shared with anybody but me. There’s more to that bike ride than pedaling, son. You’ll likely stir up some things about your daddy—and things about yourself—that could be painful out there all alone. Promise me you’ll think about it long and hard before you decide?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nurse Parsons came in. “He’s awake,” she said, motioning for them to follow her.
Peyton quickly sat up. He and his mother looked at each other in disbelief. He put his arm around her as they left the safety of the waiting room and followed the nurse through the double doors and back to his father’s room, where they stopped at the picture window. A nurse was beside the hospital bed, holding up three fingers. Peyton watched, reading his father’s lips as his mouth moved: three. The nurse gave him a big smile and a nod, then checked his IV before leaving the room.
“He’s doing just beautifully,” she said on her way to the nurses’ station.
“I don’t have to tell you that this part can be harder than the waiting,” Nurse Parsons said.
“Feel like I might dissolve into a puddle,” his mother answered.
Nurse Parsons laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “A nurse can always do what needs to be done. And you’re still a nurse.” She held the door open as they slowly walked into the room.
At first, Peyton’s father didn’t turn toward them. No doubt he thought they were just hospital staff, and he kept his gaze on the only window to the outside.
Peyton took a step back, just in case his parents needed a moment. His mother lightly touched his cheek with her hand, then stepped closer to the bed, reached down, and took his father’s hand.
“Marshall?” she said.
He turned to look at her, blankly at first, but then he squinted slightly until a smile—ever so slight—curled on his lips, and he said simply, “Hoppy.” It was his pet name for her, bestowed when he’d watched her decorate for their first Christmas together on Tybee and said she was hopping all over the house like a rabbit. Peyton hadn’t heard him use it since he came home from the war.
Now she was crying, kissing his hand over and over, as if she were trying with all her might to get control of herself.
“Is . . . is Peyton . . . alright?” he asked her.
She reached out for Peyton and he came to his father’s bedside.
“Hey, Daddy,” he said.
His father looked confused, staring at Peyton as if he were a stranger. “I . . . don’t . . . understand. Our Peyton’s . . . four years old.”
“Don’t worry—he’s doing a little time traveling as he comes around,” said Doctor Roth, who had just come into the room. Standing on the opposite side of the bed from Kate and Peyton, he leaned over Marshall and asked, “So you say Peyton is only four?”
Marshall nodded.
“And where do you live?” Doctor Roth asked.
“Chatham Avenue . . . on . . . Tybee.”
Kate’s mouth flew open. “He’s right. When Peyton was four, that’s where we lived. We were so happy there. But then he got pulled into all the Cabot . . .”
“What year is it, Marshall?” Doctor Roth asked.
“It’s 19 . . . 1936?”
“You’re getting there,” Doctor Roth said, giving Peyton’s father an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You’re getting there.”