Chasing Sunsets Part 37

"So, it's not impossible?"

I shook my head. "But it is improbable. I'd have to get Charlie to agree in order to move our sons here."

Patsy leaned over and pointed to a paragraph on the page. "Or, file a Notice of Intent to Relocate with the court and hope a judge sees it your way."

I looked up at her wise face. "What are the chances of that happening? I won't even begin to go into what happened when I brought it to the G.M.'s attention that Charlie spends more of his visitation time with women and whiskey than his children."

Patsy patted my shoulder. "Come drink your tea. It's about ready."

I rose from the chair and followed her into the kitchen. Together we prepared the tea while I continued in my lament, telling her how hopeless I felt at that moment.

We went out to her balcony, sat on the Adirondacks, and together we gazed out over the marsh. "Tell you what I'd do if I were you . . ."

"What? Please tell me, Patsy. Advise me."

"Clearly, the first thing I'd do is I'd go talk to my sweetheart. In your case, Steven. Then, I'd either call or go see my attorney and see just what my options are. Legally, you know." She nodded once. "You don't really know what you're up against until you talk to someone with a little more knowledge about the law."

I sipped my tea slowly; the sugary nectar of it slid down my throat icy cold and delicious. "You're right," I said finally. "I'll talk to Steven tonight." I looked at Patsy. "He's cooking for me-grilling, I believe he said-at his place."

Patsy's eyes narrowed. "You behave over there, now."

I laughed out loud; it felt good. "Oh, Patsy. I promise you." I raised my right hand. "We're behaving."

"It's not easy."

"No, ma'am, it's not."

"But, it's doable."

"It is."

"I know." She gave me a firm look. "I was young and in love once, you know."

"I bet you and Gilbert were something else."

Patsy looked away toward the horizon. "Gilbert was. That man was something else."

I rested the tea gla.s.s on the arm of my chair. "Tell me all about him, Patsy. Tell me about this man you loved so much."

Her head lolled back and she closed her eyes as though in the sweetest of dreams. "I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday," she began. "It was the same day my mother put me on a bus headed for Trinity . . ."

For the remainder of the afternoon I listened as she told her story. It was one I would not soon forget.

I told Steven that evening as we sat in folding lawn chairs perched on his front porch, waiting for the sun to set and sipping on iced decaf hazelnut coffee. With Steven's camera resting in my lap, I told him-as kindly as I knew how-how Cody had reacted and how Charlie had behaved.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

I could see the pain etch its way across his face at the news about Cody but a resolve when I told him about Charlie. "I'm not nearly as worried about that," he said.

"But, Steven, don't you understand? There's a law. I won't be able to move here, and your job, your family, your ill father-your new house-is here. What will we do? See each other on weekends until Cody turns eighteen or Charlie decides to stop being a jerk?"

Steven took my left hand in his. "Look at that sunset," he said.

He diverted my attention from his handsome face, bathed in the afternoon colors, to the source.

"There is a song of Asaph in the Bible-Psalm 74 to be exact-and it says, 'But you, O G.o.d, are my king from of old; you bring salvation upon the earth. It was you who split open the sea by your power; you broke the heads of the monster in the waters. It was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan and gave him as food to the creatures of the desert. It was you who opened up springs and streams; you dried up the ever flowing rivers. The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and moon. It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.' I think about that psalm a lot, especially when I'm watching such a sunset as this one."

I had turned my view away from the horizon and back to him, and so I looked out again. The sun had set some time ago, but its orange and gold reflection hovered along the skyline. The water had turned gray-blue and had receded enough that locals and tourists walked along the rippled bed of the Gulf.

"See that blue heron over there, the one perched at the end of the pier?"

"Mmmhmm."

"What do you think he's thinking about right now?" When I didn't answer, he responded to his own question. "He's worried about his children . . . no. He's worried about tomorrow's food supply. Nooooo . . . He's thinking, 'Who are all these people and when will they leave my stomping grounds?'"

We laughed together.

"I get your point."

"He knows who is in control, Kimberly, and it's not him." He squeezed my hand again. "And it's not you and it's not me. If G.o.d can take care of the sun and the moon and the waters and the Leviathan, if he can bring about salvation to the earth . . . if this day is his and this night as well, then so is tomorrow and the next day and the next." His hand released mine, and I brought it back to my lap, pressing it flat. "I love you, Boo, and quite frankly, I cannot imagine what it's like to be in Charlie's shoes. I had the privilege of raising-rearing-my daughter." He looked at me.

"But you were a good father."

His hand cupped my chin. "I'd be willing to bet Charlie is too. For the most part. He's just scared, that's all. The good Lord knows I know what that feels like."

I pulled my chin from his fingertips. "I'm going to Orlando first thing in the morning, Steven. I'm going to try to see my attorney as quickly as I can. I have to know what I'm up against."

Steven's face returned to look out at the heron. About that time, the bird lifted his wings and, with a leap, took off and soared across the water. "Do what you feel you must."

"You're angry."

"No, I'm not."

"You sound angry."

His elbow came down on the arm of his chair as he leaned toward me. "What will you do, Boo, if the answers you seek don't fall in your favor?"

I said nothing. He knew the answer as well as I. I would fall back into an old pattern. I'd take the bull by the proverbial horns and I'd somehow make it work.

And if that didn't work . . . well, then we were doomed.

35.

Long before the sun rose over Cedar Key the next morning, I loaded Max into the car, purposefully leaving everything but my toiletries at the house. I then drove the long road home.

The house felt cold, in spite of the fact that I'd set the air-conditioning system to eighty-one degrees before I left. As soon as I pulled into the garage, got out of the car with Max scrambling behind me, and opened the house door, I felt as alone as I'd ever felt before.

My footsteps echoed in the house. I realized they always had. The house was large by most standards, was tiled throughout, and I'd hung very few paintings to absorb the emptiness. To make matters worse, it stood without a single male-save Max-in it. I could open the windows and hear birds chirping to one another, but the marsh and its smells and sounds would not welcome me.

Worst of all, I missed Steven already. Perhaps too much.

I fed Max, then went through the mail my neighbor had daily left for me on the island in the kitchen. Most of it was trash. There were a few bills. No good old-fashioned letters.

When I'd cleared that away I trudged up the stairs with Max behind me. "Come on, boy," I said. "Let's take a shower and make ourselves presentable."

I called Andre at 8:45 to tell him I was in town and to see if there was any news on my sister. "We can't see or talk to her for the first two weeks," he told me. "So, no. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that she hasn't escaped."

If he hadn't sounded so beat, I would have laughed. "Well, that at least sounds positive."

"Yeah. And I'm holding on to every ounce of positive I've got right now."

I honestly didn't know what else to say. "If you need me, you'll call?" I asked finally.

"Yeah."

I forced a lilt into my voice. "Promise?"

"Promise."

It was 9:00 when I placed the call to my attorney's office. I told his secretary who I was and that I needed to speak with Tom as soon as possible.

"I can put a note on his desk," she said. "But he won't be in until around 10:00."

"Tell him, please, that I need to speak with him right away. It's extremely important."

Tom never called back, but his clerk did. She told me who she was and wondered if there might be something she could do to help me.

Fear and panic set in. "I'd like to come in," I said, relying on my old methods when I felt I was losing control. "If I wanted to talk about this on the phone, I would have called from Cedar Key." I stomped my foot. No. No. I wouldn't take control. I'd trust G.o.d . . .

"Okay," she responded with a mild tone of trepidation. "I'm not altogether sure what that means . . ."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm operating on fear right now and trying very hard not to."

A pause and then, "Let me see if I can fit you in sometime this week."

"No," I said too quickly, then breathed in. Out. "Today. Please. This won't wait until sometime this week."

"Mrs. Tucker-"

"Call me Kimberly, please. If I hear myself being called Mrs. Tucker one more time, I may scream."

"Okay," she said again. "I have a very limited amount of time at 1:30 this afternoon. But you'll have to make it quick."

"I'll be there," I said. "Thank you, thank you so much."

In the fifteen minutes I was allotted, I learned that if I decided to go to court with my pet.i.tion, the judge would look at a list of facts and circ.u.mstances.

"Which include," the law clerk-a young freckle-faced woman with long strawberry blonde hair-explained, "why you are moving, how much time your sons spend now with their father and how much they'll spend after your relocation, the relationship your sons have with their father, what trained professionals will determine to be the physical, educational, and emotional effects from the move and-most notably-upon not being close to their father and whether or not the move will improve the quality of life both for you as their mother and for the children."

"What does that last part mean?" I asked.

"If you are moving because of your job, will you have great financial gain . . . are you moving for the sake of your own emotional health . . ."

"Yes."

She smiled at me. "I suppose you could say that." She took a breath. "Also, if you are seeking an opportunity for higher education . . . ?"

"No. I just want to get married and be with the man I love. Plain and simple."

She shook her head. "I'm not sure that's going to sway the judge, Mrs. . . . Kimberly."

My shoulders sank. "What are my other options, then?"

She leaned her arms onto her desk. "If I were you-and mind you, I don't know your ex-husband-I would go see him. Talk to him. Make him an offer he can't refuse, as the old saying goes."

"Like?"

"A reduction in child support, perhaps? More visitation? That will usually sway a noncustodial."

I nodded, looked at my watch, and said, "My fifteen minutes are up." I stood, extended my hand. "You've been very helpful. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

She laughed and said, "I'm not sure I had a choice from the sound of your voice."

I winced. "I can be a bit of a control freak," I said. "I'm sorry. Believe me, I'm working on that."

I'd left my phone in the car so as not to be disturbed. In the brief time I'd been inside the law office, I'd received three fully spelled out texts from Steven.

The first one said:.

DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?.

The second one read:.

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES THE BIBLE REMINDS US THAT ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE WITH G.o.d? TRUST HIM, BOO.

And the third:.

I AM PRAYING FOR YOU. I LOVE AND MISS YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS.

"Oh, Steven," I whispered in the stifling heat of my car. "I love you too."

I dialed Charlie's number.