Chapter 5 - The House With One Plate Too Many
Walter and David drove home together.
Rafael followed in Walter's recovered truck after helping tow it from the desert. Elena packed enough food for three days despite Walter insisting they had stores near Tucson.
"You fed my grandson," she said. "Now I feed you."
Jesus rode in neither vehicle.
Yet whenever Walter looked at the highway stretching west, he sensed the same quiet companionship he had felt on the impossible trail.
The farm appeared near sunset.
Forty acres of pecan trees, workshop sheds, and dry pasture surrounded the low adobe house Walter and Mary had bought thirty-six years earlier.
David slowed at the gate.
"It looks smaller."
"Everything does when you've been gone long enough."
Walter immediately regretted the sentence.
David glanced at him.
Walter shook his head.
"Not a criticism."
"I know."
That was new.
Inside, the house smelled closed.
Walter had left a coffee cup in the sink that morning. Mary's sweater still hung behind the laundry-room door, though no one had worn it in three years.
David walked into the dining room and stopped.
Six chairs.
One table.
And at Mary's old place sat a plate.
Clean.
Unused.
David looked at Walter.
"You still do that?"
Walter felt embarrassed.
"Sometimes."
"Every Sunday?"
Walter did not answer.
David pulled out the chair opposite.
"Sit."
They ate Elena's food in near silence.
Halfway through dinner, headlights crossed the front windows.
Walter frowned.
Nobody visited after dark without calling.
He reached the porch first.
A young woman stood beside a battered sedan.
She held a little girl by the hand.
The girl was about seven, thin, wearing a purple jacket too large for her.
"Mr. Reed?"
"Yes."
"My name's Hannah Price."
Walter did not recognize her.
"My mother knew your wife."
David stepped onto the porch.
Hannah looked uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry to show up like this. Someone at the mission near Red Mesa told me you help people with vehicles."
Walter glanced at David.
David's mouth twitched.
Apparently Walter had acquired a reputation in twenty-four hours.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It keeps overheating. I made it this far."
"Where are you headed?"
"Phoenix."
"At night?"
"I don't have money for a motel."
Walter looked at the child.
She was trying not to stare at the house.
"Have you eaten?"
Hannah stiffened.
"We're okay."
The little girl said, "I'm hungry."
Hannah closed her eyes.
Walter recognized pride immediately because he had worshiped it for years.
"There's too much food inside," he said. "Elena Ruiz cooks like she's feeding a fire department. Help us prevent waste."
Hannah hesitated.
David opened the door.
"Come in."
They ate.
The girl's name was Sophie.
She devoured two sandwiches and half a bowl of soup.
Hannah explained that she had left Nevada after losing her apartment. A cousin in Phoenix had offered her a room and work. The car was all she had.
Walter repaired the split radiator hose with a temporary patch but told her it would not safely make Phoenix.
"I'll drive you in the morning."
"No."
"It's not charity."
"It is."
"Fine. Then pay me."
Hannah stared.
"With what?"
Walter pointed toward the workshop.
"Clean the office. It hasn't been touched since the Clinton administration."
David laughed.
"He's serious."
Hannah looked at Walter for a long moment.
"Deal."
Sophie wandered toward the dining room.
"Why is there a plate with no food?"
Walter looked at Mary's place.
"For someone who isn't here anymore."
The girl considered this.
"Dead?"
Hannah winced.
"Sophie."
Walter nodded.
"Yes."
"Then why the plate?"
"I don't know."
Sophie climbed onto the chair beside it.
"Maybe somebody else is hungry."
The room went very still.
David looked at Walter.
Walter looked at the empty plate.
A knock sounded at the back door.
Jesus stood there.
Only Walter seemed surprised.
Hannah smiled politely, as though He were an expected guest.
"Hi."
Jesus entered.
Walter stared at her.
"You know Him?"
Hannah frowned.
"The man from the mission?"
David looked at Walter.
"What man?"
Walter's heart began pounding.
Jesus sat at Mary's place.
Sophie immediately moved the empty plate toward Him.
"You can have this one."
"Thank you," Jesus said.
Walter could barely breathe.
To Hannah and Sophie, He appeared to be simply a traveler.
To David, apparently, He was not visible at all.
Walter sat down.
Jesus broke a piece of bread.
"Why can she see You?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Because David can't."
David looked concerned.
"Dad?"
Walter pointed.
"You don't see Him?"
"See who?"
Hannah slowly set down her spoon.
"Mr. Reed?"
Jesus looked at Walter with gentle warning.
Not every truth needed to be forced.
Walter breathed.
"Nothing."
Later, after Hannah and Sophie were settled in the guest room, David confronted him.
"You've been seeing someone."
Walter nodded.
"Jesus."
David rubbed his forehead.
"You were severely dehydrated."
"I know."
"Hallucinations happen."
"I know."
"And that voicemail—"
"You heard your mother's voice."
David's face tightened.
"Yes."
Walter sat on the porch step.
"I don't need you to believe me."
"That's convenient."
"No. It's new."
David sat beside him.
Walter looked at the stars.
"He told me to call you. He led me to Mateo. He was in the house tonight."
David was quiet.
"Did he say anything to me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
David's eyes filled unexpectedly.
"Maybe I wanted Him to."
Walter turned.
David wiped his face angrily.
"I prayed too, Dad. When Lucy was sick. I prayed for Mom. I prayed you would call. I got tired of feeling stupid."
Walter had no answer.
A soft light appeared in the dining-room window.
They both looked.
Mary's empty plate sat on the table.
Beside it lay a fresh piece of bread.
David stood.
"Was that there?"
"No."
They went inside.
On the plate, beneath the bread, someone had placed a folded scrap of paper.
David opened it.
Two lines were written in Mary's handwriting.
You do not have to understand everything tonight.
Just don't leave the table.
David read it twice.
Then he pulled out a chair.
May you like
Walter sat across from him.
They stayed there until sunrise.
