Perfect by Harry Kraus

Author:Harry Kraus [Kraus, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2009-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

The next morning, Henry stood, folded the newspaper into perfect quarters and proceeded into the hall for his routine. I sipped my coffee, keeping the mug close to my chin and watching him through the steam. He went through the whole routine, hair, teeth, tie, jacket, pants, and lastly, the double fly-check. Perhaps yesterday’s triple check was a fluke. Either that, or something bad had infected his mind. I shook my head. Henry was way too predictable for flukes.

I watched him drive his Mercedes to the end of the driveway, signal, and pull out. At the last second, I saw him lift his hand in a feeble wave, so I followed his line of sight to a post just opposite the driveway to my father’s church. There stood my father, waiting to cross the road.

Immediately I tensed, then chastised myself. Why do I always do that? I knew the answer. Guilt.

I hid behind the curtains so he wouldn’t see me. I waited for his knock before answering. I pulled open the door. “Daddy, what a nice surprise.” I tried to mean it.

“Hi, Wendi.” He took a step forward. “Is Rene up?”

Of course. He’s come to love on his prodigal. I felt my own disappointment surge. “Not yet. Shall I wake her?”

“No, no,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “I really wanted to talk to you.” He walked in and selected an easy chair next to the piano in the front room.

I sat opposite him, immediately on the defense.

“Can I ask you to explain your behavior yesterday? The way you blew up over at the home?”

I looked at him. He was older than I remembered. He seemed to have aged overnight. Deep wrinkles creased the sides of his neck and forehead and gathered in little crow’s feet beside his eyes. I shook my head. I couldn’t betray my mother. I’d hurt her enough. “I can’t explain it, Daddy.”

His eyes were soft. Eyes that had absorbed so much of other people’s pain. They were the same eyes I saw in the waiting room when he comforted the Renners. “You might try finding out who your mother is.”

“What?”

“You don’t seem to know her anymore.”

I didn’t understand. I knew my mother well enough. If only my father knew what I knew about his precious bride. How deceitful, how self-serving —

“She’s changed,” he said, interrupting my bitter reflections. He paused and leaned forward. He touched my hand, just a grace note, not sustained. “You obviously expected us to react differently to the news of our grandchild. Tell me why.”

I bit my bottom lip and gave a rapid shake of my head. As I sat in quietness, it occurred to me that my mother not only had never told him, she probably couldn’t tell him the truth. Perhaps she too had amnesia from the accident. I held up my hands. “It was a stupid comment. Who knows what I was thinking?”

He wasn’t persuaded by my pass-it-off replies. “You can talk to me, Wendi.” He stood up and walked away from me, and plunked a few high notes on the piano keys.

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