“I don’t know Kali, but you do. If you kill her, you change everything. Don’t do it. Let her have her chance to change the weather.”
Robin reaches for her mike.
“Danny’s right,” she says. “If you do this, we’ll never know what Kali could have been- what she could have done. Gabe, she might even have been able to help me.”
“You’ve never needed help.”
“I do now,” Robin says simply.
Gabe doesn’t respond. As the silence continues, I imagine the worst. Gabe pushing up Kali’s sleeve, touching her cheek, injecting the saxitoxin in her small arm. I look at Robin, and I know from the pain knifing her face that the movie playing in her head is the same as the movie playing in mine.
Suddenly there are voices on Gabe’s end of the line. They are loud and commanding-the voices of police officers barking orders. I can hear only fragments of what they say, but the broken shards paint a dismal picture.
“He’s still alive.”
“Stay right where you are, Dr. Ireland.”
“Christ, he must have already killed the girl. She’s not moving.”
Robin begins repeating Kali’s name in a kind of lament.
There’s more shouting and then… Gabe’s voice, very calm.
“Put down your guns. Kali’s just sleeping. Midnight is late for a six-year-old, and this six-year-old has had a big day. I’m not a threat to anyone-not even myself. The hypodermic and the saxitoxin are on the other side of the room.Danny was right. Kali deserves her chance to change the weather.”
All night, Nova’s body has been drawn in on itself with tension. Now she raises her arms in a gesture of relief and triumph. Robin rips off her headset and grabs her coat and briefcase. But instead of moving toward the door, she comes over to me with her hand extended.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she says.
“You just did.” I take her hand. It’s cool and smooth. “Robin, go easy on Gabe,” I say.
She nods, but her face is impassive.
It’s time to get back to work. I turn on the microphone and find my signature warm-honey voice. “My name is Charlie Dowhanuik, and you are listening to ‘The World According to Charlie D.’ It’s October thirty-first, the Day of the Dead, and our topic tonight is Death.” I pause. “So, lessons learned? The big one, I guess, is that nobody knows what happens after we die. That’s why what we do here and now matters so much. There’s a riddle that’s helped me through the night more than once. ‘What three words make you sad when you’re happy and happy when you’re sad?’ The answer is ‘Nothing lasts forever.’
“So tonight if you’re one of the lucky ones, and your lover or your child is in your arms, hold them close. Cherish the moment. Love is as fragile as luck. If you’re alone and your heart is breaking, don’t despair. Our grandmothers were right. Tomorrow is another day, and nothing lasts forever. Now, let’s let Green Day take us out with that oldie but goody,‘Time of Your Life.’”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Nova and I walk through the front door of CVOX, the hearse is waiting at the curb. Nova looks at me questioningly.
“That’s our ride for the evening,” I say.
Nova cocks her head and gives me her crooked smile. “Is this a joke?”
“Nope. When I was on my way to work tonight, the driver of that vehicle ran a light and hit me and my Schwinn. My Schwinn didn’t make it.” I shrug. “I did. I guess it wasn’t my night to die.”
Nova lifts her face to mine. “Thank God for that,” she says. I look into her eyes. The steadiness in her gaze has anchored me for the past three years.
“I do,” I say. I’m surprised at the catch in my voice. And then, another surprise. “Nova, I want to stick around. I want to see what happens next.”
The fog has lifted. Above us the red lips and Mick Jagger tongue that form the O in the CVOX call letters blaze in the night. Nova slides her arm through mine.
“I’ve never ridden in a hearse before.”
“I guess tonight’s your lucky night.”
“I know it’s my lucky night,” she says. For a woman in a caterpillar suit, Nova moves quickly. She reaches up, draws me to her and kisses me.
“Let’s go to my place,” she says. “Let’s see how this story unfolds.”
GAIL BOWEN
