Page 53 of When I'm Gone
Andy begged him, “Please, you can’t.” Luke felt no sympathy.
“Did you hold the baby when it was born? Did you kiss his head? What about my wife? Did you kiss her too?”
“Wait.” Andy yanked at his collar. “I’m lost. This is about Natalie?” Andy began to inflate again, his nose nearly close enough to touch Luke’s shoulder. “Listen, if you’re not interested in the house, I need to ask you to leave or I’ll call the cops.” In a flash Andy had his phone out.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Luke pushed back a sudden urge to slap the phone out of Andy’s hand. “What were you two hiding, Andy?”
Andy jutted his chin out and shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe Natalie marriedyou,” he said softly, like he was talking to himself. “I tried to warn her. You’re a total psycho, like your dad.”
Before he was aware of it, a growl started in Luke’s lungs and crawled into his throat. His feet shuffled toward Andy, closing the gap between them. His hands curled into themselves, like he was getting ready for a workout on the bag at home. It’d only take a swift uppercut with his right, jab in the stomach with his left, and if that wasn’t enough, an elbow to Andy’s back as he fell to the ground.
Suddenly Annie was wedged between the two men, one hand on Luke’s chest and the other on Andy’s shoulder. Her touch was gentle but firm, and it brought him back to reality. Luke’s hands fell limp at his side, aching from how hard he’d been squeezing them. He’d almost hit someone. When that thought sunk in, it was heavy, like the sins of his father were suddenly his as well.
“Stop,” Annie said, giving Andy’s shoulder a sharp thrust. “Luke, tell him about the picture. Tell him.”
“What picture? Whoareyou?” he asked, glaring at Annie before taking a large step back, making Annie’s hand fall.
“Like he said, I’m a friend.” She yanked out the brochure peeking out of Luke’s shirt pocket and flipped it open. A polished fingernail pointed at the younger version of Andy, more hair, gigantic smile, and Natalie’s arm hanging around his neck. “Tell us about this, Andy. Tell us about Maranatha House—why you were there with Natalie and why there are pictures of you all over that place.” Annie held the trifold, cream-colored brochure up to Andy’s face, other hand on her hip.
“How did you get that?” Andy asked, flustered.
“Luke’s son found an envelope from Maranatha Adoptions. It was postmarked from around the time he was born. It had Natalie’s name on it.” She listed the facts like accusations. “That led Luke to Maranatha House. Okay. Your turn.”
Andy reached up and took the dangling brochure from her hand and took a step back, staring at the open booklet. He touched the sepia-toned picture, and the corner of his mouth turned up like he was remembering something happy.
“I never had a child with Natalie,” Andy said, still lost in the picture, “but I do have a daughter. Her name is Jill, and she lives in South Carolina with her adoptive parents, Carol and Jim Fletcher. She attends Davidson University. She has black, curly hair like me and light eyes like her mom.”
“What?” Luke blurted, the paralyzing haze of anger lifting a little. Annie seemed to sense it and moved out of his path. “A daughter?”
“Yeah. I met her last year. Natalie helped me find her before she ...” Andy’s words caught in his throat. “Luke, you know Jill’s birth mom, Nancy Gillingham.” Andy’s bravado was gone. “She sat between us in Mrs. Tillman’s fourth-grade class. I had a huge crush on her. Junior year when she was a cheerleader and I was suddenly cool because I’d learned guitar, we went out for a few months.
“Then she got pregnant, and it felt like the end of my world. But Natalie, she knew what to do. She told me about this place her pastor worked at, this home for unwed mothers, or at least that’s what they used to call it. Nancy lived there till she had the baby. No one knew but me and her parents and Natalie. The other kids thought she was living with her aunt in Indiana. Natalie drove with me to visit her at Maranatha. Every year they have a reunion and fundraiser in June. This year was the first time I’ve ever gone without Nat.”
Andy looked right into Luke’s eyes. “I didn’t know she was lying to you. I’m sorry. Nothing ever, ever happened between us. I mean, I was in love with her, but she never could get over you.” He chuckled like there was something funny about it. “I never really thought you two would make it, but after a while I stopped hoping she’d leave you, and I got on with my life—a pretty damn good one too.”
He refolded the brochure and handed it to Luke, then retrieved a worn black wallet out of his back pocket. Slipping his pointer finger behind a stack of credit cards, Andy pulled out a wallet-size photograph and held it up for Annie and Luke.
“This was her senior picture. Jill sent it to me after she turned eighteen, after Natalie helped me track her down. Nat said she looks a little like a younger version of Minnie Driver.”
Luke took the picture and flipped it over. In feminine handwriting, the name “Jill Fletcher” was written across the back with a phone number. Luke tried to memorize it, still not sure if he should believe Andy, but finding fewer reasons to question his story. The girl looked nothing like Natalie, and until that moment Luke hadn’t realized that fear was lurking in the back of his mind. Luke passed the picture to Annie.
“She’s beautiful. I can definitely tell she’s your daughter.” She handed the picture back to Andy and grabbed her purse, the metal clasp scratching against the countertop.
“We should go.” She sighed, and hooked the strap over her shoulder as she turned to face Andy. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Garner. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
Annie brushed past Andy, who had his hands back in his pockets. Luke stared at the short, balding, thirty-something man he’d wanted to punch in the face only a few minutes earlier. Did he really believe Andy’s story? The part about Natalie helping him was definitely convincing. He could even reason why she’d keep it secret, never one to break promises to friends.
“Sorry about the misunderstanding.” Luke put out his hand, and Andy shook it briefly.
“I’m sorry for the stuff I said about your dad,” he mumbled back. Luke was more sorry that, at the moment, Andy had been right.
“Yeah, well, we both were saying things we didn’t really mean.” Andy nodded and followed Annie out the door.
Alone in the front room, Luke took one last look around. The house was only a shadow of the home he’d grown up in, but paint and wallpaper wasn’t strong enough to disguise the film of evil still clinging to the hallway where his sister died. Luke shook off the memory. It was just a house.
As Annie and Andy filled the awkward exit with small talk on the front porch, Luke counted the steps from the kitchen to the door. Twelve. When he’d walked out of the house with the CPS agent twenty-two years earlier, it had been nearly double, twenty-three. Back then he cried as he was escorted into the waiting car. Today he felt relief.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” Annie said, staring at the ground as she walked across the lawn while Andy locked up. “I’ve never seen that side of you.”
