The Wish Collector
Page 48

This woman had done what she could, but over a decade later and she still hadn’t completely rebuilt—just like the neighborhood where she resided.
“Anyway, he was real old, I could tell by his voice—old but smooth, that one. Almost”—she paused as if searching for the right word—“oily sounding. He asked for Amanda’s phone under some ridiculous pretense. I told him I didn’t know a thing about her phone or where it was, but I lied.”
Jonah had been stunned by Mrs. Kershaw’s forgiveness, and now surprised by this unexpected and perplexing information.
“Applegate?” he asked. “Was his last name Applegate?” The two original partners he’d worked for, Applegate and Knowles, were both old, but out of the two, Palmer Applegate had the voice of a snake-oil salesman. Pair that with his big, overly white dentures and his bony face and he was downright disturbing.
Not that Jonah had any room to talk. Not now anyway.
Mrs. Kershaw nodded and snapped her fingers. “That’s it. I remember it now. Applegate. I remember the name didn’t seem to fit him.”
No, Jonah agreed. Apples were sweet and fresh. Palmer Applegate was older than dirt and smelled of mothballs and denture paste.
“Why would he want Amanda’s phone after the trial was already over?” Jonah asked. After she’d died?
Mrs. Kershaw shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s not as though I can look through the thing. I don’t even think Amanda knew it was here. She left it when she was by asking for money. She was as high as a kite.” She sighed. “I didn’t have any way to get in touch and let her know I had it, so I put it aside and figured she’d be back at some point.”
Mrs. Kershaw looked blankly off to the side, probably staring into a past that was forming in her mind. “Later, after that Applegate came by, I figured I’d be better off not knowing the things Amanda might have had on her phone anyway. Not much good ever came from the paths Amanda chose to walk. Maybe I couldn’t keep her safe in this life, but I can let her rest in the next one.”
Jonah nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Kershaw. I won’t say anything about that phone.”
Questions about why Palmer Applegate had been interested in it swirled in his mind, but he did his best to squash them. Why after the trial? What had been so important? He’d never know. He was there to offer amends. Only that.
“I want you to have it.”
Jonah pulled his head back in surprise. “What?”
“Because I don’t have anyone else I trust to look through it. And maybe part of letting Amanda rest involves whatever truth might be on that phone. I know you’ll do the right thing with whatever you find.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Jonah stumbled. And it was the truth. He was overwhelmed. Relieved. Confused. Deeply grateful. Bowled over.
But a tremor of fear sparked through him too. Not only did he feel unworthy to be given the responsibility of looking through Amanda Kershaw’s phone for her mother, but he was afraid of delving back into that case at all. The case that had been his downfall, and had caused the death of so many innocents. And yet, Mrs. Kershaw had unselfishly offered him her forgiveness, her understanding, and now, her trust. How could he possibly say no?
Mrs. Kershaw stood, making her way slowly but surely around the coffee table and down a hallway off of the living room. He heard a door open and what sounded like a piece of furniture moving, some shuffling, and then a minute later she was back, handing him an old flip phone.
Jonah stared at the relic and wasn’t surprised that when he flipped it open, it was expectedly dead. “Do you have the charger?”
“No. You’ll have to get one of those yourself.”
Jonah nodded, wondering if they even made chargers for flip phones anymore. “I will, Mrs. Kershaw.” Jonah put the phone in his jacket pocket and stood.
“I’ll let you know what I find.” He paused, gathering himself. “I can’t thank you enough, for taking the time to talk to me. For . . . for your kindness. I would do anything if I could bring her back. If I could go back in time . . .”
Mrs. Kershaw smiled, though it held sadness. “Maybe a better plan is to move forward.” She held out her hand and Jonah took it, grasping it in both of his, squeezing it tightly as he let out a soggy chuckle.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
Her smile grew. “Good. I’m going to have you let yourself out. I’ve already missed half of Jeopardy.”
Jonah gave her another chuckle and picked up his helmet from where he’d left it on the couch. Mrs. Kershaw sat back in her recliner and unmuted the TV so that Alex Trebek’s voice filled the room, posing a question about ancient Rome.
Jonah took one last look around the dilapidated room. This woman had been wiped out in so many ways and yet she’d rebuilt, kept a heart open enough to offer forgiveness to a guilty man, and was still putting one foot in front of the other day after day. Admiration overwhelmed him so completely that he almost stumbled as he turned and headed for the door.
“Marcus Brutus,” he heard her say to the TV right before he pressed the flimsy inner lock, stepped out of the house, and closed the door behind him.
For a moment he stood on the stoop, his helmet hanging at his side. He turned his face to the sky, closing his eyes and letting a handful of different stars look upon his brokenness for the first time in eight years.
After a moment, he brought his head down, pulling his helmet on and walking to his motorcycle. As he drove toward Windisle, his lips were shaped in a smile.
**********
Lucille Kershaw pulled back the curtains, exposing the room to the morning sun. Not that she could see it. But she hadn’t always been blind. It was only habit that kept her pulling open the drapes day after day, she supposed. Or maybe, doing the things she’d always done to greet the sunrise, gave her a smidgen of hope that each new dawn offered promise if you did your part, whether you could see it or not. Sort of like faith.
Just as the coffee machine let out three long beeps, letting her know it had finished brewing, she heard a knock at her front door. Well, if this doesn’t beat all. She hadn’t had a visitor in three years, and now she was going to have two in the span of twenty-four hours?
“Who is it?”
“My name is Neal McMurray, ma’am. I’m a contractor here to look your place over.”
“You must have the wrong house. I didn’t call a contractor.” She might have if she could afford one, or if she trusted any of them after what that shyster had done to her so many years before. She still remembered that man’s deception with a stabbing pain that made her cringe. After the devastation of Katrina, after all her community had lost, it had felt like the worst kind of betrayal.
“No, ma’am. Jonah Chamberlain sent me. He said you’d know his name.”
Lucille paused for a brief second before cracking the door open. The cool air met her nose. She smelled rain. It would be pouring in the next hour or so. Storms still brought a tremor of fear even after all this time. How could they not? “Why’d he send you? I can’t afford a contractor.”
She had a few friends in the neighborhood who’d helped her over the years when she could pay them a little bit. They’d painted, laid new carpet, patched the places that had the worst of the water damage. She knew it still needed a lot of work, but it was livable, and she’d get more done as she was able.
“He’s paying for the work, ma’am. He already gave me a deposit, and told me to let you know the rest would be taken care of. I’m here today to make a list of what needs to be done, with your approval of course. My team can get started on the repairs day after tomorrow.”
Lucille was stunned. She’d told Jonah Chamberlain she didn’t blame him for what had happened to Amanda, or for any of it, and that was the God’s honest truth. He didn’t need to feel indebted to her. But she’d heard the intense pain in his voice, and she’d heard the sincerity too. The thing she’d prayed so hard to hear in her own daughter’s voice and never received.
She had a notion that accepting this gift would go a ways toward helping the young man move past whatever he still blamed himself for. And lord, but she also couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that pinged through her now. “He’s going to pay for all of it? The whole bill?”