“For what?” I asked. “I’m glad you called.”
“For everything,” she said. “I was wrong.”
I was speechless. After a moment, I managed, “I was, too.”
“Yeah,” she said. “But you’ve already admitted that. I haven’t. You attempted to make amends. I wouldn’t let you.”
Where’s my wife? What have you done with her?
“I’d like for us to get together and talk,” she said. “I think we really need to.”
“Sure,” I said. “But now’s not such a good time.”
“I can come there,” she said. “I’ve got a couple of days off. I was thinking about going to the beach anyway.”
“Okay,” I said. “We could have dinner.”
She laughed.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Have you noticed anything funny about our divorce papers?”
“No,” I said. “I haven’t noticed them at all.”
“That’s what’s funny.”
“What?”
“We don’t have any,” she said. “I never signed them. Legally, we’re still married.”
She was right, that was funny, but not in any way that made me want to laugh.
When I hung up and sat there in stunned silence, Merrill said, “Who was that?”
I told him.
His eyes lit up as a broad smile spread across his face.
I started to say something, but was stopped by a thought about Bobby Earl and Bunny. Snatching up the receiver, I punched in Pete Fortner’s extension and waited.
“You callin’ an attorney or a marriage counselor?” Merrill asked, a look of self-satisfaction joining the genuine pleasure already on his face.
When Pete answered, I said, “What time did the Caldwells leave the institution last night?”
“You mean this morning,” he said.
“So it was late?” I asked.
“Very,” he said. “Why?”
I clicked off without answering, called the airport, and asked if they had any flights to New Orleans scheduled.
“Should I pack a bag?” Merrill said.
Before I could answer, the ticket agent came back on the line and said the only flight to New Orleans included a brief stop in Memphis and left at eight.
“You gonna fly over and ask Bobby Earl and Bunny how to make love last so you and Susan get it right this time?”
I laughed.
“They left here too late last night to catch their flight,” I said. “The only other flight to New Orleans leaves at eight tonight. Whatta you say we’re there to see them off?”
CHAPTER 18
When we reached the Bay County/Panama City International Airport, I jumped out and ran inside while Merrill hunted for a place to park.
The ticket counters to my right were quiet and mostly empty, only two agents helping a handful of passengers check their luggage and confirm their seating, but the left side was crowded and noisy. Recent arrivals and those who had come to meet them enthusiastically greeted, embraced, and conversed as they waited for the buzzer to sound and the conveyer belt to come to life.
There was no sign of the Caldwells in the long center corridor that led past the security checkpoint to the departure gates, nor at the small restaurant on the left, but as I turned to the right and peered into the gift shop, I saw Bunny Caldwell standing alone in front of the magazine rack in the back.
As I walked toward her, I realized she wasn’t really looking at the magazines-they just happened to be what were in front of her. She seemed lost and alone, unsure where to go or what to do, so she just stood and stared and saw nothing.
“Mrs. Caldwell,” I said.
When she turned around, she squinted at me for a long moment as if finding it difficult to focus. She only vaguely resembled the overly made-up, seductive young woman I had met the day before.
“Chaplain…” she said, and I could tell she was searching for my name.
“Jordan,” I said. “John.”
She nodded. “Right. What’re you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” I said.
Her long, pale face clouded over in incomprehension, then her eyes widened and it contorted into an expression of alarm. “About what?”
“Nicole.”
She tightened her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to fight off tears. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
I nodded.
“It doesn’t seem real,” she said. “I keep looking for her, keep starting to call her. I even started to buy her that.” I followed her gaze over to an aqua bear draped in a small American flag. “She loves all those Beanie things.”
Beyond the bear, out in the terminal near the rental car counters, I saw a small circle of old ladies huddled around Bobby Earl. Like Bunny, he looked dressed for church-or TV, and he was putting his hands on their heads and praying for them.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, turning back to her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why did it happen?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Who do you think did it?” I asked.
“Who?” she said softly, and I wondered if the way she was acting was the result of grief, guilt, or medication.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She shook her head.
Maybe it wasn’t grief, guilt or medication, but shock.
She stared at me for a long moment without saying anything, without seeming to even see me. She looked so helpless, so vulnerable, and I felt bad for what I was about to do.
“What could she have done to make somebody do that to her?” I asked, trying not to let my disgust at the question bleed into my voice.
Forgive me, Nicole, I prayed.
If she or her husband had done it, she had to believe I was on their side, that I would understand. She’d need to justify it.
As usual in these situations, I felt indecent and iniquitous. I was attempting to manipulate someone to whom I should have been ministering.
She glanced over at the bald black man reading a magazine behind the counter. He was the only other person in the shop. If he overheard our conversation, he gave no indication. He looked bored, the magazine a barely adequate distraction.
“She didn’t make anybody do anything,” she said. “She didn’t do anything. She didn’t deserve this.”
“No, I didn’t mean…” I said, but of course I did. “I just meant I know how some children can be.”
