The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

TWENTY-FOUR

The coffee was good, Cate didn’t expect it to be. She took small sips because it stayed hot in her travel mug. The bench was comfortable enough for her and the weather was mild enough to enjoy sitting outside.

She wished she would stop having bad memories. Memories that made her angry or convinced Jonas stint in Williams Peak wasn’t some spiritual rehab, but rather some twisted con. Why did she lack so much faith in her son? A change of tides. Now Grant was the one who had faith, not only in Jonas, but real faith.

It was the first Sunday in years she had missed services. In a sense, she reasoned she wasn’t. Her mind did drift to one of those bad moment memories. Nothing anyone else would see as major, Cate did.

She had gone to a resale bookstore and found an oversized, beautiful, hardback book of Charlton Heston bible interpretations. She was excited about it, had even showed Jonas.

Instead of saying, “Oh, cool.” The young man who skirted death, who Cate felt should have dropped to his knees and been grateful he was alive, instead said, “Why do you believe in that crap?”

“There’s no God, certainly not like you think.”

He said that adamantly. She often wondered if he had said them because he really believed it or only to hurt Cate. Saying hurtful things to her was not unusual.

People in the support group would tell her, “Oh, it’s not him talking, it’s the alcohol or the drugs.”

Cate didn’t believe them, she believed truth came out of mouths when the mind was full of substance.

Maybe she was wrong.

She sat on that bench, thinking of the day he claimed to not believe while staring at a church, where her son was inside playing music and singing.

She wasn’t going to go in. In fact, she arrived a couple days earlier than she told Grant. Slipped into Williams Peak quietly and unnoticed, or so she thought.

“I thought he mumbled,” the gentleman said as he sat next to her on the bench.

“The pastor, I thought he mumbled a little at the end.”

“Um, yeah, he did. I had a hard time hearing.”

“We’re sitting outside.” He extended his hand. “Joe. Some call me Old Joe. I’m gonna bet, call it a hunch, that you’re Cate Truett.”

“I am. You’re good.”

“Nah, we just don’t get strangers much. So … are you here for the revealing?”

Cate nodded. “Tuesday is exactly a month. Grant said they’re going to tell him. I want to be here for that. He doesn’t know they’re telling him, does he?”

Joe shook his head. “No. He thinks he’s gonna do a fingerprint with the chief. I’m glad you came.”

“People who know don’t think I’m a horrible mother for not showing up, do they?’

Joe laughed. “No. Plus, I think Grant has been having the time of his life with him.”

“It seems so. I’m not a cold person, I love my son. It was hard to come here.”

“I get it. I do. Your son has amnesia, he wouldn’t know you anyhow, right?”

“Does he?”

“Yes, he does. Look,” Joe said. “The wife and I had an inkling about your boy, Grant confirmed it. I like to consider myself an expert in men like your son. People that took the wrong path. I know your reluctance. I know how easy it is to jump on the thought he is manipulating everyone. But I will say he isn’t. Besides, when you meet Pastor Rick, don’t be fooled by how nice he is. He’s smart as a whip when it comes to this. I can remember him telling me and my wife not to be fooled by our son. He knew every time Matthew wasn’t clean.”

“I probably won’t meet him,” Cate said.

“You will. So, why did you come early if you only want to hang in the shadows?”

“I didn’t want to miss something I might not get a chance to ever see again,” Cate explained. “It’s the wish of every parent of an addict that their child will one day see the light, stop using, stop drinking, walk the straight path. I know it happens, but I just don’t see Jonas there yet.”

“You haven’t seen him in a month. You haven’t seen what we have, what Grant has.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here, once he knows, he’ll probably never pick up his guitar for Christ again.”

“You don’t know that,” Joe said. “None of us do.”

“He’s going to be mad. Not when we tell him, but when he remembers. When Jonas comes back. When hot-headed Jonas comes back, he is going to be livid about living this life.”

“I don’t think Chip disappears when Jonas comes back. Not sure amnesia works that way, Joe said. “But I have to agree he might be mad. Mad at himself for making wrong choices. Mad at himself maybe for the way he was.”

“So, you’ve been there?” Cate asked.

“I have. Very similar circumstances, the outcome not as good. Our son fought with us one night. You know the drill, the intervention, trying to help. He disappeared. For weeks we couldn’t find him. Then we did. He was walking. Heavily under the influence. He fell, got hurt and died right there buried in the brush.”

“Oh, oh, Joe, I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Joe reached over and grabbed her hand. “But we are grateful for your son. Cate, he gave us a chance to reconcile our feelings about our own son. He has helped my wife and I more than you or he realized. By us being there for him, helping him, we had a second chance. And let me tell you, he’s made changes.”

“Like what?”

“See all of them cars for Sunday service? A month ago, there were ten cars. He’s brought the service up so much that people come here. The Chief. He has been chasing this passenger in the car with your son. I haven’t seen him have a purpose in a long time. Look at the church garden. It’s alive. Listen to the music