Tomorrow and Always Page 3

  His smile died when he arrived home. Karissa’s Nissan wasn’t in the garage. In the kitchen, he let the big bags of groceries slide to the counter top as he grabbed at the note by the phone.

  Gone in to work, it read. See you tonight. Karissa.

  That meant he would be lucky to see her before midnight. He crumpled the note and threw it into the garbage. Then he sat on one of the bar stools and put his elbows on the countertop, his head in his hands. He felt like crying. With slow movements he brought out a bottle of wine and uncorked it, drinking straight from the bottle. No use saving it now. He wouldn’t get to see Karissa laugh as the bubbles tickled her nose.

  Chapter Three

  Jesse Hergarter’s eyes blinked open in the late Saturday-morning light. He didn’t feel like getting up. He loved his job, but the past week had been long and tiresome. At least he and his two partners had the programs at the hospital finished enough to pass through the board’s initial review on Monday. Then there would be the months of follow-up and additions until everything was perfectly tuned to the hospital. The work wouldn’t be too demanding, and they would have time to work on the additional contracts they had picked up on Kodiak and in Anchorage.

  “I love working for myself,” he said, stretching luxuriously on the double bed. “And Kodiak is a wonderful place for a vacation. You know, the best thing that ever happened to me besides meeting you was getting laid off last year. Otherwise, I would never have gone out on my own.”

  Beside him, Brionney groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, raising himself up on his elbow. His wife’s vibrant blue eyes peered out from her round face. The skin on her forehead drew together, making it look like a wrinkled blanket, and her shoulder-length hair was matted as if from a long, sleepless night.

  “Another headache?” he asked. Her headaches had been getting worse.

  “There’s something wrong with this house,” she said. “I can’t explain it, but something’s wrong.”

  Jesse yawned and tried to pull her close. “It’s nothing. You’re pregnant, that’s all. I’ll rub your neck; maybe that will help.”

  “It’s not because I’m pregnant!” she snapped. Then she sighed and laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry, honey. But I’m only just over two months along. I’ve never had headaches this early. It all started when we moved in here. I was fine for the days we stayed at Malcolm’s.”

  “Could it be the stress?” he asked, smoothing her near-white hair until the strands fanned out over his pajama top.

  “I guess.”

  Jesse glanced around the bedroom. Like the rest of the house, the room was small and in poor repair. The building was old, maybe a hundred years, and looked every hour of its age, despite an obvious attempt to fix it up for renters. New wallpaper had been placed over peeling paint, and in most places he could see the unevenness underneath. The blue carpet was new, too, but it couldn’t change the smell of the ancient boards hidden below.

  The owners had rented the house furnished, but the furniture was mostly old and mismatched. The battered nightstand held an odd green-colored lamp. The small bookshelf sagged, and the wood on the right side bowed outward. A sturdy wood dresser in the corner was the only piece that was worth anything. Though an antique, it had been well built and had somehow survived the neglect.

  His eyes focused on something strange. “Brionney, do you see anything near the door?” His hand stopped massaging her neck but was still tangled in her long tresses.

  She tilted her head as if it hurt her to do so. “The cloud! I told you I’d seen it!”

  “So you did,” Jesse murmured. Near the doorway, a white miasma hung suspended, like a steam of water vapor. A tremor of fear passed through him, but he forced it down.

  “What is it?” Brionney asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He eased out of bed and approached the mass, sniffing. Goose bumps erupted over his skin. “I think it smells like gas.”

  “I know what natural gas smells like. It can’t be that.”

  “We should call the company, just to make sure. Why don’t we take the children out to breakfast while we wait to see what they say?”

  Brionney’s blue eyes lost their frightened look as she concentrated on what to do next. When they awoke their three young daughters, it seemed to Jesse that they were sleepier than usual. That worried him further. Brionney dressed the girls while he called the gas company.

  Before they left the house, Jesse returned to their room, but the white cloud had vanished. Had it been in his imagination?

  Out in the crisp air, Brionney’s headache seemed to abate. “I knew there was something odd about that house,” she said.

  * * * * *

  Malcolm had nearly drained the bottle of wine in the quiet of the kitchen, broken only faintly by the rain hitting the roof. The phone rang and he picked it up wearily, settling on the stool, his back hunched.

  “Hello?”

  “Malcolm? It’s Jesse.”

  “Hi, Jesse. How’s it going?” He and Karissa had helped the younger couple and their children settle into their rented house in Kodiak. They had also shown them around the island a few times. Lately, though, Brionney’s morning sickness was getting worse, and she hadn’t cared to explore.

  “Well, we’ve got a little problem and wondered if you could help.”

  Malcolm straightened. He was good at solving other people’s problems. “If I can. What’s up?”

  “We’ve had a gas leak here. Evidently, it’s been leaking for some time. I think that’s what’s been causing Brionney’s headaches. They’ve fixed it, but Brionney’s frantic to leave. She’s afraid it’ll happen again and the children will get hurt. She wants to find another place—today. But that’s impossible. I can’t really blame her for wanting to leave; the place is a dive anyway. We could stay at a hotel for a few days, but the budget’s really tight right now. We wondered if we could stay with you for a couple of nights until I have a chance to find a better rental. Some of the ward members offered their houses, but five of us are a lot to squeeze into one room, and I don’t like to deprive the members of the little space they do have. I know it’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, but would it be too much of an inconvenience?”

  “Of course not,” Malcolm said without hesitating. “The whole upstairs is still empty except for our offices. The rooms you stayed in before are just like you left them.” Jesse and Brionney had stayed two nights with them when they had first come to Kodiak a month earlier. It had been the least Malcolm could do for someone he had introduced to the Church on his mission to Arizona. Besides, Malcolm was partly responsible for Jesse’s being in Kodiak in the first place. They had kept in touch on a yearly basis since Malcolm had left Arizona, and when the contract with the hospital opened up a few months after Jesse lost his job, Malcolm had suggested that Jesse submit a bid.

  “You’re welcome to use the rooms,” Malcolm continued. “They’re just going to waste. Meanwhile, I’ll put out the word about a new apartment or house. It shouldn’t take longer than a week or so to find something more liveable.”

  “Thanks, Malcolm.” Jesse sounded relieved. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Hey, we’re friends. I know you’d do the same for us. So, what time should I expect you?”

  “Is around seven okay? It’ll take us that long to get our things together.”

  “Great. See ya then.” Malcolm hung up the phone, feeling better. He put away the groceries, glad that he had bought cookies. Little girls loved cookies.

  * * * * *

  The front doorbell rang shortly before seven. Malcolm stubbed out his cigarette and walked to the entryway. The hardwood floor was polished to a bright shine. Maggie, the lady who came in three times weekly to clean, had done her usual immaculate job.

  The Hergarter family stood outside, slightly wet but now protected from the rain by the wide overhang covering the porch. “Come on in,” Malcolm said, reaching for one of
the suitcases in Jesse’s hand.

  Jesse had dark hair and eyes, and his stocky figure was a good six inches shorter than Malcolm’s. He seemed solid and ready to face any challenge. He hadn’t changed since the day Malcolm had met him on the street in Arizona. Malcolm had been twenty-one then, and at the end of his mission; Jesse had been just eighteen. It had frustrated Malcolm that Jesse had refused to be baptized, though he knew the Church was true. Jesse had taken three years to gather courage to oppose his parents’ wishes and take the plunge. Yet since his baptism and subsequent mission to England, he’d been stronger in the Church than Malcolm had ever been.

  “Thanks so much for this, Malcolm,” Brionney said, bringing him back to the present. She was short and somewhat rounded, but exceptionally pretty. Her eyes were a bright blue, like the color of the sky on a warm, cloudless day, and her long hair an unusual white-blonde. “I don’t know what we would have done otherwise.”

  “It’s nothing, really,” Malcolm told her.

  “I like staying with you, Uncle Malcolm,” Savannah said. The seven-and-a-half-year-old was a miniature of her mother, all white hair and blue eyes.

  Malcolm smiled. “I like it too. We’re gonna have fun.”

  On the sidewalk, Camille, who was nearly five, and little three-year-old Rosalie investigated a small pile of mushy snow. They looked up, their brown eyes studying him. Camille’s hair was dark like her father’s, and little Rosalie’s was a darker version of her mother’s blonde hair. Malcolm smiled at them, but they glanced away shyly.

  “Come on in,” he repeated, backing into the entryway. He showed them to the front staircase, which led up to the second floor. There was another staircase leading to the second floor from the kitchen, but with the luggage it would be easier to use the wider main staircase. “You can have the same two bedrooms as before, and the long front room as a toy room for the girls.”

  Savannah clapped her hands. “You mean the one with all the windows looking into the greenhouse?”

  “That’s the one.” Malcolm was continually amazed at the girls’ enthusiasm over small things.

  “Will Aunt Karissa let us play in the greenhouse this time, do ya think?” Savannah asked.

  “You’ll have to talk to her,” Malcolm said. Karissa was funny about the greenhouse. The last time the Hergarters had stayed with them she’d managed to avoid the issue, but they might be here longer this time.

  “Don’t you dare go in there until she says so,” Brionney warned.

  Savannah looked up at her. “Of course, Mom.”

  “I’ve put some clean sheets at the foot of the bed, and some extra blankets.” Malcolm set the suitcase he carried on the floor inside the room the little girls would be sharing. “Is there more luggage in the car?”

  It didn’t take long to settle the Hergarters’ belongings in their new accommodations, but unpacking the groceries Jesse and Brionney brought took much longer. The unending paper sacks made Malcolm’s earlier attempt at food buying pale in comparison.

  “Why don’t I make some dinner while you guys watch TV?” Brionney asked when they put away the last bag of groceries.

  Jesse looked at her in concern. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?”

  “I’m fine. And actually, it’d be nice to hear myself think for a change.” Brionney inclined her head pointedly toward their daughters.

  “Come on then, girls.” Jesse motioned for them to follow.

  “Wait,” Brionney said. “I don’t see the ice cream. Did we leave it in the car?”

  “Yikes! It’ll be melted by now.” Jesse hurried for the door.

  Malcolm led the children down the hall and into the family room. He flipped on the TV, turning the channel to a rerun of The Pretender, one of his favorite shows. He didn’t waste much time watching television, but when he did, it had to be good. With a sigh, he settled back in his easy chair and took out a cigarette, forgetting that he had promised himself not to smoke around the girls.

  “Smoking’s bad,” Camille said suddenly, standing in front of him.

  Malcolm nearly choked as he tried to light up. Smoke rushed out of his nose, stinging as it went. All three girls stared at him, but it was Camille who continued, “It’s against the Wisdom Word.” Malcolm noticed her eyes were a lighter brown than little Rosalie’s, as if her mother’s blue color had softened them. They seemed to see into his soul.

  “The Word of Wisdom,” he corrected mechanically.

  “I told you a hundred times it was the Word of Wisdom,” Savannah added.

  Camille didn’t seem to hear her, but continued to regard Malcolm gravely. “Mommy said it hurts your throat and makes you die. Do you want to die, Uncle Malcolm?”

  Malcolm glanced up to see Brionney standing in the doorway, but she didn’t speak; she seemed to be waiting for him. Savannah and Camille waited too. Even little Rosalie stared at him intently. Behind them the Pretender was flying a plane in the frame of Malcolm’s large-screened TV. He wished he could watch it.

  “Are you going to die?” Camille asked.

  “Everyone dies.” He saw Brionney’s frown and added hastily, “Eventually. I mean everybody eventually dies. But don’t worry, Camille. I’m not going to die.”

  “But smoking’s bad.”

  “Yes. It is. I wouldn’t want you ever to do such a thing.”

  “Then why do you?”

  He glanced again at Brionney, but her lips clamped shut. She wasn’t helping him out of this one. “It’s because I can’t stop,” he admitted. “That’s why you should never start. Cigarettes are addicting.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Addicting?” he asked. The child nodded. “Addicting means there’s a drug inside it that makes you have to smoke once you start. It is very hard to stop.”

  “Oh.” Camille glanced curiously at the cigarette, still smoldering in his hand.

  “Do you want to sit on my lap and watch The Pretender?” Malcolm asked, attempting to change the subject.

  The little head shook vigorously. “No. That smells bad.” She pointed at the cigarette.

  “Stinks,” agreed Rosalie.

  Self-consciously, Malcolm stabbed out the cigarette, not daring to look up at Brionney. Undoubtedly, she’d be laughing. When he finally did glance at the door, she’d already disappeared into the hall.

  “Come on.” He patted his knees. “I have room for two little girls. And no stinking cigarettes. I know my clothes still smell a bit, but you’ll get used to it.” Giggling shyly, Camille and Rosalie climbed onto his lap.

  * * * * *

  Malcolm was in bed before Karissa arrived home. Her steps dragged sluggishly as she came down the hall and sank to the bed. She smelled damp and brought with her a chill from outside.

  “Finished?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Yes.” She was pale and almost wraithlike in the dark.

  “You hungry?”

  “I stopped at McDonalds. I’m just tired.” She began to undress.

  “Just in case, there are leftovers from dinner. Brionney made a very tasty casserole.”

  “Brionney?”

  “They had a gas leak. I told them they could stay here till they found a new place.” Malcolm could almost hear her frowning at his words. He strained his eyes in the dark, but couldn’t see her expression. “Isn’t that okay? They had nowhere else to go except a hotel, and those are so expensive, especially with so many children.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, her voice hurried and remote. “It’s very nice of you to offer.” She tugged on her nightgown and pulled back the blankets, slipping her legs beneath them. With her right hand she pushed her hair back from her narrow face, a gesture Malcolm had always found alluring. He scooted close to her, hoping she would turn to him, but she yawned and lay back. Almost immediately, he heard her soft snores.

  Moonlight filtered through the blinds. Malcolm reached out tentatively and stroked her arm. She turned over in her sleep, away from him. Strange th
at she could be so close, yet so far away.

  It was a long time before he slept.

  Chapter Four

  Music was playing as Malcolm and Karissa walked hurriedly into the chapel in Anchorage. On the stand, Curtis sat contentedly with his parents, Teresa and Charles, and the bishopric. Behind them, a lady with bright red hair led the congregation in a hymn. Karissa felt strangely comfortable, as if this unknown place was somehow familiar. Of course, it was a typical-looking ward, much like those back in California, and that probably accounted for the feeling.

  As they walked up the aisle toward a seat, someone tugged on the back of her jade-green dress. It was Lisa Mathees, one of Malcolm’s sisters-in-law. “Sit with us. We have room.” Beside her, Jeffrey, Malcolm’s brother, was sliding over and pushing his five children along the padded bench.

  Karissa sat gratefully, then scanned the congregation for other relatives. She saw only Malcolm’s parents, Richard and Faith, and Kathleen, one of Malcolm’s sisters, sitting with her husband, Troy. Karissa knew the others must be present, but hidden from her view. Malcolm, Richard, Kathleen, Charles, Jeffrey—what stuffy, proper names, she thought.

  “Didn’t anyone ever call your father Rick, your brother Chuck, or your sister Kathy?” she had asked once.

  “No.” Malcolm had replied matter-of-factly. “And Jeffrey, Carolyn, Philip, Gregory, and I never shortened our names either. Why should we?” That at least explained why Malcolm never called her Kar as other people did.

  Along the bench, the children poked each other and giggled. Their father looked at them sharply and the noise stopped—until he glanced away. Karissa smiled, remembering her own time in church as a child. Her father had glared at her too many times to count.