She was singing to herself and doing some sewing when the phone rang, and she wondered if it was Jim. He was usually the only person who called her during the day. Everyone else she knew was working. But he hadn't called her in months. Ever since Johnny died, he had been shut off from everyone, and feeling isolated, even from her.

But when she answered the phone, it wasn't Jim, but Bobby's school. He had fallen off the swing at school, and broken his wrist. The teacher was at the emergency room with him, and she said she'd be bringing him home soon. Alice was upset they hadn't called her sooner, but the teacher said they hadn't had time before they went to the hospital, and it distressed Alice not to have been with him at the hospital. But he came home ten minutes later, with a slightly groggy look. They had given him medicine for the pain. And she put him on his bed, and left him with Johnny, while the teacher waited for her.

“The doctor at the emergency room said he'd be fine soon. He has to keep the cast on for four weeks.” She seemed to hesitate then, and looked as though she had something else to say. “I don't want to get your hopes up, and I could be wrong,” the teacher ventured slowly into unfamiliar waters with her, “but I thought I heard him say ‘ow’ when he fell.” Had Alice not known that he'd started talking, she would have been ecstatic, but now she just looked pensive, and told the teacher she might have misheard him. She said she had often imagined him speaking simply because she wished he would. She was not yet ready to share with the world the fact that he could speak. She wanted to protect him for as long as she could, until he was completely confident again.

“I could have imagined it.” The teacher nodded. “But I don't think I did.” Johnny had been insistent that Bobby go slow, and that they not tell anyone yet. And Alice wanted Jim to know before they told the world. “Maybe you should have him tested again,” the teacher suggested, and Alice thanked her, and offered the woman a cup of tea before she left.

Alice had both children at home now, Charlotte with her concussion and Bobby with his broken wrist, and when Jim came home that night, late as usual, he made a fuss over both of them. He still wasn't drinking, and finally, when the kids went upstairs, Alice looked at him.

“Where have you been going after work these days?” she asked with eyes filled with suspicion. He seemed healthier, in better spirits, and more sober than he had been in years. But he was coming home later than usual every night.

“Nowhere,” he said vaguely, and then he saw in her eyes everything she feared, and he felt sorry for her. “I've just been going to some meetings after work.”

“What kind of meetings?” she asked, looking for clues in his eyes, and he didn't answer her for a long time. But finally his eyes met hers more honestly than they had in a long time.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me. A lot. Are you seeing someone else?” Her breath caught as she asked the question.

He reached out and touched her hand as he shook his head. “I wouldn't do that to you, Alice. I love you. I'm sorry everything has gotten so screwed up … with Johnny … and Bobby's accident… and now Charlotte getting hurt…. Things sure got messed up here. And no, I'm not seeing another woman. I've been going to AA meetings. I got it, after hitting that truck the other night. It was time to stop drinking.”

As she looked at him, Alice's eyes filled with tears, and he leaned over and kissed her. It was a dream come true.

“Thank you” was all she could say. And when they went to their room that night, they locked the door when they went to bed, so the children wouldn't disturb them. Johnny was nowhere in sight, and was asleep, curled up on the foot of Bobby's bed.





Chapter 10


December was a busy month for all of them. Jim's business was taking off. He had three new clients in addition to the two he'd gotten a few months before, and his workload seemed to have increased tenfold. Alice wasn't sure if his giving up drinking had anything to do with it, but he seemed to be working harder, and earning more. And he was more relaxed than he had been in years. He was even taking some afternoons off, or leaving work early at least, to go to some of Charlotte's games. He had become her chief adviser on what he was convinced was a promising athletic career. And now he bragged about her at least as much as, if not more than, he had about Johnny.

Charlotte was basking in the warmth of it. She had just turned fifteen, and the local paper had run her photograph on the sports page. Boys were suddenly of more interest to her, and there was one in particular she liked on a local boys' team. But it was her father's company and approval she craved these days, as though she were making up for all the lost years when he had virtually ignored her. He had talked about it in his AA meetings, and even made amends to her in his Ninth Step, and Charlotte had been startled when he cried when he apologized. He had explained that it had never dawned on him that she could be the fine athlete she was, even though she was a girl. But even if she hadn't been, he would have loved her. He had just been numb for so long that he had lost her. He apologized for all the times he had dismissed her, ignored her, and celebrated Johnny's accomplishments, and never hers. His apology led to a bond between them stronger than any they'd ever had before. And when he was making amends to her, he wished that he could have made amends to Bobby too. But he still felt strange talking to him, and just looking at the child brought back waves of guilt over the accident they'd had because he had been drinking at the time.

Alice was enjoying watching the relationship develop between Charlotte and Jim. She and Johnny talked about it, and the miracle that had come into their life when Jim joined AA. Alice knew without asking him that Johnny had prodded him to it, just as he had opened his father's heart to Charlotte after all these years.

“That was quite an accomplishment,” she said to Johnny while he was helping her do laundry one day. “A miracle actually. Two miracles.” He had stopped drinking, and he had come to love and appreciate Charlotte in all the ways he never had.

And Bobby speaking again was another miracle Johnny could take credit for, although Bobby still wouldn't speak to anyone but Johnny and his mother. But Johnny said that when he was ready to, he would. He thought he should get more sure of himself first. But that moment seemed to be approaching daily. He smiled a lot more now, ventured out of his room more frequently, seemed more present in the family, and was doing really well in school. And when he was with Johnny and his mother, he chattered constantly, and seemed to have a million things to say, and stories to tell.

“What about you, Mom?” Johnny asked her as she started an apple pie for dinner that night. “What do you really want?” She never seemed to ask for anything.

“You,” she said, as she turned to him. “I wish you could come back for good.” But they both knew that was impossible, and he would have if he could. “I'm so glad you've been here for a while.” He had been back for two months, but as Alice looked around at her family, she saw that he was accomplishing all the miracles for which he had come, and inevitably it worried her. Once his work was done, he would have to leave them again. They had never talked about it, but she sensed now that his work here was almost finished. “You won't just disappear, will you?” she asked, with worried eyes, as she rolled out the crust for the pie she was baking for dinner.

“No, Mom. You'll know,” he said quietly. “I wouldn't do that to you.” It had been hard enough surviving the shock and suddenness when he died. She couldn't bear the thought of going through that again. “You'll be ready this time,” he said, reading her mind, and answering her.

“I'll never be ready for you to go,” she said stubbornly, with tears in her eyes. “I wish you could stay here, just like this, forever.”

“You know I would if I could, Mom,” Johnny said, coming to put an arm around her. “But I promise, you'll be ready by the time I have to go. It won't ever be like last time.” The memory of it, the sheer horror and agony of losing him, made her shudder, remembering those first days.

“We're lucky we've had the last two months with you,” she said softly, trying to remind herself to count her blessings. “Have you already done everything you came to do here?”

“I don't think so,” he said, sounding a little uncertain. It had never been absolutely clear to him what he had come for, but as things unfolded, it was easy to see all the good he'd been doing. And he himself had a sense that one by one he was accomplishing the appointed tasks. His assignment had never been spelled out to him. But he could sense what was needed day by day. “I think we'll both know when that happens.” But they both had a sense that it wasn't far away. Watching him she had become more intuitive too.

“And will you just vanish into thin air then?” she asked him with a look of panic.

“I told you, Mom,” he said, looking far beyond his years suddenly, “I won't do that to you. They wouldn't expect it of me.” He had been sent to heal, not to hurt.

“Good,” she said, sounding relieved, “it would be nice to have some warning.”

“I think when the time comes, we'll both know.” But she was already getting that feeling, even if he wasn't. Jim had stopped drinking after years of alcoholism, he and Charlotte had bonded as never before, he was an integral part now of her athletic activities, and went to every game he could get to. And Bobby was talking, even if only in secret. “I think I still have some fine-tuning to do here.”

“Well, don't rush anything,” she said with a grin, and he laughed at her. “Maybe you could drag your feet just a little bit.”

“I'll go real slow, Mom. I promise.”

“I love you,” she whispered into his neck as he hugged her. And that afternoon he went to see Becky. Things were going well at her house too.

She had been seeing a lot of Buzz, and she seemed very happy whenever Alice saw her. She no longer looked as devastated as she had in the months before. She laughed a lot more now, and she seemed more relaxed, just as Pam did. Her romance with Gavin had blossomed over the holidays, and he was talking about moving, to be closer to her.

Alice was trimming the tree with Johnny late one afternoon, playing CDs of Christmas carols and singing with him, when Jim came home from work early. He had forgotten some papers at home, and decided to work on them there, and he smiled when he saw Alice trimming the Christmas tree, and heard her singing.

“How did you manage the star on the top all by yourself this year?” It was a tough one to explain to him, and she just said that when the mailman came, he helped her. And Jim seemed satisfied with the story. Johnny chuckled as he listened to her and smiled broadly. He had put all the decorations on the top branches for her, as he always had.

“That was creative,” Johnny teased her, and she laughed, and then said something to him when she thought Jim wasn't listening, but when he came back into the living room again, he was frowning.

“We're going to have to do something about your talking to yourself. Maybe you should go to ‘Talking-to-yourself Anonymous,’” he teased. “Charlotte worries about you. She thinks it's because of Johnny.”

“I guess it is, sort of. I'll get over it.” All too soon, she feared. When Johnny left again, there would be no one to talk to. Not like that anyway. There was Jim, of course, and the children. But her oldest child had always been her soul mate, and still was. More than ever now. “I guess it's just become a habit,” she said to her husband, as he disappeared again with his briefcase and a stack of papers.

He was still working on them when Charlotte came home from school, and Alice went to pick up Bobby, and took Johnny with her. They chatted easily all the way to Bobby's school, and he laughed at what his father had said about her talking to him.

“By the time you leave, everyone will be convinced I'm crazy,” his mother complained with a rueful smile.

“That's not such a bad thing,” Johnny said, lying across the backseat, and hanging his feet out the window. He was a lot taller than his father. “You can do anything you want then. ‘Crazy Mrs. Peterson.’ It could be very liberating, Mom. It sounds like fun.”

“Not to me. I don't want people thinking I'm loony.” But it was a good kind of “crazy,” and such a good feeling being with him, a constant blend of seriousness and laughter and joy