T. Bunn - The Great Divide

Marcus did so, not minding the prospect of more drugged fogginess now that he knew it would pass. Then, because they were both thinking of her, he said, “Tell me something about Gloria.”

Austin seemed to have expected the question. Or perhaps it was just that his thoughts remained centered upon this subject. All his thoughts, all his energy. “She hates math.” The late-afternoon light was golden and warm and glinted off the man’s tie. Sitting weekend duty in a sickroom and the man’s top button was still closed, the tie still tight. “She has a great mind for strategy and none whatsoever for numbers. Three rows needing addition sends her screaming from the room.”

Marcus sipped at his mug. “Strategy.”

“She’s brilliant at chess. Learned the game before she started school.” The smile was a swift shadow. “Beat me the first time on her ninth birthday. I was astonished, I can tell you.”

Marcus felt that it all meant something. Or it should. But the mental struggle was too much. “She looked so happy in that photograph.”

“Gloria is all or nothing. And all the time. One hundred percent happy, one hundred percent angry, or sad, or excited, whatever. She dives into her emotions like she does all of life. She is a good student when it suits her, and terrible when her mind is elsewhere.”

“How was she just before she left for China?”

“Like the walking dead. Utterly and completely miserable. She had been absolutely despondent for months. Morose and weepy and quarrelsome. Kirsten was the only one who kept her on an even keel. The two of them had been close for years, but they grew closer than sisters. Ever since she and that Loh boy broke up, Gloria had been teetering on the verge of a breakdown.”

Marcus set down his cup. “Who?”

“Gary Loh. Brilliant kid. Medical student. Strong in the church.”

“You approved of him.”

“He changed Gloria’s life around. Before, well, Gloria went through a wild stage her first year at Georgetown.”

A lethargic fog began to take hold of Marcus’ limbs. “So I heard.”

“Who from?”

“Oathell.” He swung his legs up and onto the bed, eased his head onto the welcoming pillow.

“Yeah, she broke that boy’s heart. But Gary was good for her and Oathell couldn’t keep up, and that’s the truth from her own daddy. She and Gary made a fine-looking couple. Real fine.”

The warm languor seeped into his bones and traveled up his body. “But they split up. Why?”

“Gloria wouldn’t say a thing. One moment she and Gary were planning to get married. The next, nothing. We didn’t hear anything for over a month. Then she came home for Thanksgiving and spent the entire time locked in her room sobbing. Like to have broken Alma’s heart, especially when she wouldn’t tell us what was wrong.”

His mind could not hold a train of thought. It flittered about, landing where it would. “How did she get so interested in New Horizons?”

Austin seemed to find nothing odd in the sudden shift. “I doubt there’s a single family in our church without some tales about that company. All of them bad.”

Marcus murmured, “You?”

“Ask Alma sometime about her nephew, the one who worked for the unions.”

Marcus wanted to ask more, but the talk left him. His final awareness was of a strong dark face watching as he slid into sleep and away.

He awoke late in the night. It was only in the midst of this silence that he recognized the noises that had occupied the rooms and hallway outside his door. Marcus reached for the phone and dialed a number from memory. When Charlie Hayes answered, Marcus asked, “What time is it?”

“I know you must be sick. Calling me in the middle of the night, waking me up so you can find out the time.” There came a rustling sound, then, “It’s just gone one. There. You satisfied?”

“I was thinking about one of the stories you told me. About that case when you got so excited in your closing argument you fell over the railing and landed in the jury’s lap.”

“I won that case, by the way. Guess the folks figured if I was that excited I had to be telling the truth.” A pause. “How are you, son?”

“Better.”

“I came by twice, but you just snored through my visits. Libby brought me one time, Deacon the other. Made Libby cry to see you lying there with your head all bashed in.”

Marcus fingered the bandage over his left temple. “Tell her I’m fine.”

“That why you called, to remind me about some foolishness from forty years back?”

“No.” A single breath, then the commitment. “Jury selection is scheduled to start on Monday.”

“Been pondering that myself.”

“I can’t handle it alone.”

“Recognized that fact the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t want to postpone the trial, Charlie. It means they win, at least for the moment. And every day counts.”

“You can go ahead and ask, son. I won’t turn you down.”

“That means a lot,” he said, taking an easier breath. “Good night.”

Marcus was alone when he awoke the next morning. After breakfast he showered and shaved, finding great consolation in his isolated mobility. The doctor came soon after, inspected him carefully, and declared him free to go. “But I want you to watch for signs of internal bleeding.”

“I will.” His belly was a rainbow of dark and violent hues. It was not a time for a cavalier attitude.

“And if your vision should start blurring or the headaches worsen, call me immediately. Otherwise I want to check you over in a week’s time.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

As the doctor departed, Kirsten stepped inside. “You’re up.”

“I’m more than that. I’m free to go.” Marcus wanted to ask why she had been apologizing earlier, but not at the cost of that small sad smile she gifted him. “You look very nice.”

And she did, standing there in the doorway in her floral-patterned skirt and dark blouse and hair so blond it held highlights of fine morning mist where the sun touched. He even liked her uncertain air and the way her purse strap was wound tightly through her fingers.

“Alma and Austin are downstairs. We wanted to check in on our way to church.”

Though his body ached and he doubted he would have the energy to go the full round, he found the prospect pleasing. “Is there room for me?”

Clearly this had already been discussed. “I could drive you in your car, if you like. The deputy brought it over from the courthouse.”

“That would be great.” He rose slowly, ashamed of the need to test each joint in turn. Then he was glad of it, for she walked over and fitted herself to his side. Almost as if she belonged.

The drive out of Raleigh was under clouds so low they almost grazed the eastern hills. Their leaden color was scarcely lighter than the asphalt. Marcus cracked his window and let the warm, humid air wash away the hospital’s bitter tang.

Kirsten followed Alma and Austin out of town. She waited until they hit the four-lane U.S.-64 to say, “I want to help you.”

“That’s good. I need all the help I can get.”

“I mean with the case.”

“I know what you mean, Kirsten. And I’m grateful. Really.” Her expression showed she needed more convincing. “We’re going up against an army. They had seven lawyers in the meetings with Judge Nicols. I need help with the prep work. A lot.”

“I thought after what I told you in the hospital, you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

Marcus knew he would have to ask her to repeat herself, and sooner rather than later. But her tone had the somber openness of the confessional, and right then his greatest desire was to give back in kind. “I never wanted to take this case.”