Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [98]
“That must’ve been so painful.”
“I honestly didn’t think I’d survive it. But it did break something in me. I suppose it was my pride.” He ran his finger around the handle of his coffee cup. “And at my lowest point, right when I was about to give up, I somehow had the sense to cry out to God.”
I nodded.
“And slowly, very slowly, I began to recover. But during that time I realized that more than anything I wanted to start a rehab clinic. There had been nothing available—not locally anyway—when Hope really needed help. Not that she would’ve gone in necessarily. But even so, I felt driven to create a place where people with addiction problems could go for help. That’s when I started Hope’s Wings.”
“Hope’s Wings…” I used my napkin to stop a stray tear. “For your daughter.”
“It seemed right.”
“I had no idea you were the founder.”
“That was my dream that sort of came out of the ashes.”
“Wow. That’s an amazing story, Marcus. Why you don’t share it more often?”
“I don’t really like telling it for several reasons.” He folded his paper napkin into a neat triangle. “For one thing I can never be sure that I won’t completely lose it during the telling. Also I don’t really like people knowing that I’m the founder of Hope’s Wings.” He sort of laughed. “Who knows, they might complain about how shoddy the place is, and I don’t know if I could take that.” Then he grew more serious. “But mostly I don’t like talking about Hope because I know it might make parents fear the worst—that their own child might die of an overdose too.” He studied me closely. I could tell he was worried that this might be the case with me, too.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I already fear the worst.”
“I know.”
“But you told me anyway. Why?”
His brow furrowed. “I guess I hoped it would encourage you to dream again, to remind you that good can rise out of something hopeless.” He paused, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Or maybe there was more to it than that…”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I wanted to make a deeper connection with you.” I considered this. And while I couldn’t help but feel flattered, I also felt a bit uneasy.
“I value your friendship, Glennis.”
“Thanks, Marcus. I value yours, too.”
He looked at his watch. “Well, I have an early meeting in the morning. I guess I should call it a night.”
After Marcus walked me back to my car and said good night, I felt as though something had occurred that night. Something unexpected and somewhat confusing, but a gift nonetheless. I got into my car and turned on the ignition, then wondered what was going on. More than that, I wondered if I was ready for anything to be happening at all.
Shortly after Sherry returned from the mountains, I invited her to have lunch at my apartment. “But this time I don’t want you to bring anything,” I’d told her the night before.
It was the Monday before Thanksgiving, and I hadn’t seen Jacob in days. I’d been trying to function in a normal fashion, bearing in mind what Marcus had said as well as Sherry’s encouragement before Matthew’s death. I wanted to at least look like I had my act together. I suppose in some ways I was as much a liar as my son.
“Your place looks great,” Sherry said, forcing a sad little smile to her face. “Much better than last time.”
I hugged her. “And you look better than the last time I saw you too,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“Feeling?” She set her expensive designer purse on the counter and sighed. “I’m not sure if I have any feelings left, Glennis. Most days I feel like I’ve been completely drained, wrung out, and hung up to dry.”
“I think I know what you mean.” I handed her a hot cup of cinnamon spice tea. “Well, I may not know exactly what you mean, but I understand.”
She looked into my eyes and nodded. “Yes, I think you do.”
“And we don’t need to talk about it,” I assured her as I put the finishing touches on the salad, a Cobb, Sherry’s favorite.
She sat down on a stool across from me and watched as I chopped the turkey into small pieces. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it so much. It’s probably good