Chapter 76
Chapter 76
I followed at a safe distance. “Ma’am, if you’ve taken a vow of silence or something, you can just point and I’ll leave you alone. Really, I’m so sorr—”
She laughed again. “I did take vows, but not of silence. That’d be tough for me as I’m a physician.”
“Really?” I didn’t know why, but that surprised me. “What kind?”
“Trauma.”
That, too, surprised me. Not that I doubted her; it just wasn’t what I thought when I saw a lady who looked like someone out of The Sound of Music . She pointed at the monstrosity of a fortress. “The Sisters here treated returning crusaders, so it’s in our blood. We serve several hospitals around. They call us when things don’t look good.” She pointed at me. “By the looks of you, you know a thing or two about trauma.”
While I had grabbed my shirt before climbing the stairs, I had not put it on. Which escaped me since we’d been talking. I pulled it on quickly. “Again, ma’am, I’m so sorr—”
She laughed. “I’ve seen worse.” A pause. “But not much. What’s your line of work?”
That was a difficult question. I figured I’d throw her the softball answer. “Um... I work for a nonprofit in Colorado.”
She did not look convinced. “Oh, really?”
I gathered by her tone of voice that she didn’t believe me. “We house and take care of boys and girls who have been trafficked. ”
This piqued her interest. “How do they get to you?”
Another softball. “They’re rescued out of some pretty bad places. Then we fly them to Freetown and nurse them back to health.”
“Freetown?”
“Yes, ma’am, it’s the name of our, um... home.”
“Where is it?”
“Rocky Mountains.”
She studied me. “But that’s not the only one, is it?”
“No, ma’am.” I shook my head once. “We’ve broken ground on a place in Spellman Bluff. Coastal Georgia.”
“And what do you call it?”
“Hopetown.”
“Why there?”
I paused. “It was the childhood home of a friend. We’re building it in his honor. Thought maybe in buying it we could drain the darkness out and offer—”
She interrupted me. “Hope.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“That goes back to that same friend. He used to tell me, ‘We’re in the hope business,’ so...”
“And are you?”
“I’d like to think so.”
She stepped closer. Eyeing the scars my T-shirt didn’t cover. “And when these beautiful children of God pray for someone to kick down the door, are you the answer to that prayer?”
I figured about here it was probably time to tell the truth. “I’m one of ’em.”
She nodded affectionately. “You do this alone?”
“Well...” The answer was more difficult than I thought, because I had to hear myself say it. “I do now. But I didn’t used to.” I couldn’t understand why I was opening up to her, but I was. “When I was young, a man befriended me. Put me through school, trained me, and gave me a choice. Life on a silver platter—white house, picket fence, Volvo in the driveway—or I could walk through door number two.”
She chuckled. “Can’t really see you driving a Volvo.”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
“How many people have you saved?”
“As of last week, 259.”
She smiled. “And I’ll bet you can recall all of their names.”
I nodded but felt no need to show her my back. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Would those happen to be the names inscribed on your back?”
I didn’t think she’d seen that. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So you made a record?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I considered how best to answer this. “Because people who’ve been treated like that have a singular need to know they are of value. That they matter.”
“I would imagine they know that from the moment they lay eyes on you.” She paused. “You have kind eyes.”
“Don’t tell the bad guys.”
She pointed to a cut on my right knuckle where I’d turned out Fabio’s lights. “Recent?”
A nod. “Yesterday.” I gestured to the coastline. “A beach back that way.”
“You save someone?”
“Three girls.”
“Just like that?”
A shrug.
“Where are they now?”
“On a flight to Brazil.”
“Never stops, does it?”
“No, ma’am.” A single shake.
“Do you?”
I read between the lines. “Did my wife put you up to that question?”
She laughed. “I’d like to meet the lady who can corral you.” She studied me. “You didn’t answer my question. ”
“Not very good at that.”
“I can see that.”
“Occupational hazard, ma’am.”
She smiled. “I’m starting to pick up what you’re putting down.”
I liked her. Liked her a lot.
“And this man who taught you, does he save people too?”
The verb tense caught me off guard, but explaining it was too much to go into. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How many has he saved?”
“Nobody really knows.” I shook my head. “Thousands.”
“Does he carry scars like yours?”
I paused. Figured I’d better come clean. “He did.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought . . .”
A tear surfaced that I could not hide. “It’s why I’m here. To say goodbye. See, we, uh...” I pointed out across the water. “We...” It was too much. I didn’t know how to break it down. Put it into words. “We walked into some darkness out there and it was pretty dark.” A pause. “Darkest I’d ever seen.”
“But . . . ?” She waited.
I wanted her to know his story. The truth. The magnificent magnitude that was Ezekiel “Bones” Walker.
“Ma’am.” When the memory returned, one half of my face attempted a smile, while the other half shed the tear. “Bones walked in and... that darkness did not comprehend it.”
This brought her pause. And she almost nodded as if saying something to herself. “Bones?”
“That’s his name.” I swallowed. “Was.”
She nodded. “But he didn’t make it out.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“Evil is good at being evil. And sometimes evil wins.”
Another nod. “I know a thing or two about that. But that’s not what I was asking. ”
This lady was a steel trap. Nothing got by her.
She continued, “Why’d he do what he did?”
I said the only thing I could think. I said the only thing that mattered. The thing that told the world “I am Bones.”
“Because... the needs of the one outweigh those of the ninety-nine.”
She nodded and couldn’t hide the smile. “Seems like I’ve read that somewhere.”
Just then, Gunner started barking his head off. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that’s—”
She waved me off. “Come with me.”