Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Allison's voice was full of cheer and laughter and a tinge of embarrassment. Sedgewick had been leading her by the hand, her eyes covered with a blindfold, since they got off the bus.

"Nope." Sedgewick had her standing in the side yard of the Baptist church, in front of the small section of mural that he'd painted. Charles was working on another section, but he kept looking over to watch the two.

The bus ride home had been entertaining, with Allison embarrassed and overwhelmed. She'd never taken public transportation, and it was a new experience for her. Sedgewick had insisted and she relented.

Charles had ribbed the two the whole ride home, though more Sedgewick than Allison. She took his ribbing in stride and fired back.

"I like this girl—quite a pearl."

Sedgewick stepped back from her, savoring the moment. She could take the blindfold off, but Sedgewick wasn't quite ready. He looked at the mural once more, exhaled and said she could take it off.

She raised the blindfold with both hands and slowly peered out, then her eyes widened as she took in the scene. The blindfold stayed perched on top of her head, forgotten. She hadn't been expecting this. Maybe balloons, maybe a park with a dramatic view, but not this.

The fence stretched before her, but she didn't see the fence. She saw a slate-grey river, rushing, surging forward, a pale blue sky and a green bank and a sandy shore. There were rocks scattered about and shafts of sunlight beaming down, though she couldn't tell if they were real or in the painting.

There was a large stone painted off-center, a bit to the left. Allison stepped forward, drawn to the large stone. The sand around the stone, looked different somehow, like there were footprints. Then she realized. She flashed an amazed smile towards Sedgewick, her green eyes brimming with joy. She stepped forward again and reached out to run her fingers over the painted surface.

It was the rock where Allison sat crying when Sedgewick found her that very first day when he learned about her mom, there by the side of the Mississippi River. Above the river, off to the right, were the towers of downtown Minneapolis. A bridge crossed the river at one point, and a lone, tiny bird crossed the sky. In the corner, not far from the large stone, just poking out of the grass, was a yellow, October dandelion.

The very next day Sedgewick and Allison took the bus downtown. It had been her idea, the public transportation. In fact, the whole idea had been hers. She wouldn't tell Sedgewick where they were going, payback for walking six blocks with a blindfold. But she broke down and told him on the bus. They were going to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts.

Sedgewick smiled. A week ago he would have been dumbfounded, captivated by the artwork maybe, but unsure why he should be there. But things were different now. They walked into the museum hand in hand, and Sedgewick wanted to take in each work, wondering if the artist pictured the end result when they started, or if it had been a surprise.

"Did you like it?" Allison asked outside, later, as they were meandering along the sidewalk, pretending to head back towards the bus stop but really just enjoying another autumn day and each other's company.

Sedgewick nodded, unsure of the words.

"I thought you might." She beamed. They kept walking in silence, but you could almost hear words in the electricity between their clasped hands.

The air felt warm on their skin, the sun shining high and bright. Ahead of them a family walked down the sidewalk, pushing a stroller and another child walking. They heard only snippets of the conversation.

Just as they were turning to cross the street the child broke away from its mother and hollered with child-like angst, "No, I hate you mommy!"

Sedgewick watched as the little boy pulled away and ran ahead. The words were spiteful, and they came out in a moment of passion and defiance. But they meant nothing. The father chased down the boy and lead him by the hand back to the mom and the stroller. An exchange took place, but they were too far away. The mom and child embraced and the family continued on, fences mended and life well again.

A tear rolled down Allison's cheek. A sob escaped and she shuddered, moving for a nearby bench. Sedgewick sat next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, it just—it just came on me all of a sudden." Tears dotted her khaki cargo pants.

"I know."

"It doesn't get any easier, does it?"

"Nope, it never—it never seems to." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but they kept coming. She wondered if a person could ever run dry.

"I just wish, I wish…" her words failed her and she buried her head in Sedgewick's chest. He wrapped his arms around her again, and held her in his arms.

The downtown buildings towered over this broken couple as Sedgewick rubbed her shoulder and started to sing softly in her ear. His voice was quiet and soft and not particularly good, but it didn't bother Allison. Though it was a song she'd never heard before, she somehow knew it had been sung to Sedgewick by his grandfather at a time very much like this. And it filled her with hope—not peace or joy or even love—just hope, and that was all she needed.


the end