Make-Believe Husband

by Vivi Holt

  “Morning, all.”

  “You ready to go see the lawyer this morning?” asked June, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

  He nodded, feeling a twinge of nerves. Was anyone really ready to hear their father’s final wishes read off a piece of paper? There weren’t likely to be any surprises – his father hadn’t been that kind of man – so that wasn’t bothering him. It was the idea of sitting down with his mother and sister to hear the sum total of his father’s life boiled down to assets and liabilities. It was no way to honor a man who’d sacrificed worldly gain in order to serve God and church.

  He grabbed a a piece of whole wheat toast and slathered it with peanut butter – he’d eaten breakfast at home with Brad and Stacey, but he was never one to turn down food. If there was a second breakfast to be had, he’d be glad to oblige and eat it as well.

  After the toast and a cup of coffee, he drove Mom and June to the lawyer’s office. As they walked in, he put his arm around his mother’s waist and helped her to a seat. She sank against him and shook as she took her seat. This would be harder on her than on he or June, but together they could get through it. He’d never appreciated the strength of his family bonds as much as he did then. He took a seat beside her and cupped her hand in his. June sat on the other side and held Mom’s other hand.

  Their lawyer, Sam Tibold, sat behind a sturdy mahogany desk, his spectacles perched on the end of his thin nose. Gray hair curled around his ears and left a bald patch on top. He’d been a family friend and church member for as long as Jax could recall and he was grateful for the familiar face. Sam greeted them and offered coffee, which they declined. “I hope you’re all well.”

  Mom nodded. “We’re doing as well as we can, Sam, thank you for asking. We just want to get through today.”

  As Jax had expected, his father’s will was simple with no surprises. There weren’t many assets to divide, and it all went to Mom: the house, a small savings account, a retirement account and a few stocks, along with the life insurance benefits Sam assured them would be released as soon as the insurance company processed the paperwork. Jax was fairly certain it’d be enough for her, given how frugally she lived. He was grateful his parents had paid off their mortgage two years ago. There were no final words recorded, no notes, no hidden debts.

  Soon the three of them were huddled back in his truck and headed for home. “Did you know that Dad had paid off the house?” asked June, one eyebrow raised.

  “I knew he wanted to,” replied Jax. “I’m sure glad he managed it. He mentioned a few times when I still lived at home that that was his goal, to make sure he and Mom were set for retirement and they could travel together without having to worry about payments.” Mom sniffled into a Kleenex, and Jax’s throat tightened. That was just like Dad, always thinking of others and of the future. He’d been a dreamer, something Jax liked to think he’d inherited.

  When they got home, Mom made more coffee and they sat out on the enclosed porch, Mom in her rocker and he and June in chairs on either side of her. They talked about Dad, about the past, and laughed and cried together. They shared funny stories and remembered the times they’d pulled together through hardship, sickness or pain, always family, always side by side and always with God’s guidance.

  “I never thought he’d go first,” sighed Mom, patting her ample belly. “Your Dad ran almost every day, he was fit and strong. On weekends he’d ask me if I wanted to go for a bike ride or a hike, and I’d shake my head and say, ‘Honey, I just want to rest – it’s been a busy week.’ He’d say he understood, but I’d think to myself, ‘he’s gonna live until he’s a hundred years old. I hope he learns how to cook before I go’.”

  Jax and June laughed. June wiped her tears with a Kleenex. “I guess we never know who’s going first or when their time will be up,” she sniffled.

  Jax nodded. “He had a full life.”

  “Yes, he did,” his mother concurred. “And he had no regrets, so don’t either of you start thinking there’s anything you should’ve done differently. Your daddy loved you, he was proud of you, and he wouldn’t change a thing about either of you.” She patted their hands.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Jax’s throat tightened.

  “You heading home tomorrow?” asked June.

  “Yep.”

  “We’ll miss you.”

  “I know. I guess I could ask for more time off …”

  “No,” responded Mom. “You’ve already taken off more than you should. I know your coach is hankering for you to come back and rejoin your team. You just take care of yourself, son. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be just fine.”

  Jax stood, all the emotion of the day balled up in the pit of his stomach. He had to get out of there, go for a run, do something. “I’m gonna go out for a bit.”

  Mom smiled. “Okay. Will you be back for lunch?”

  “Sure. See you then.” He grabbed his coat and headed out. By the time he reached the street he was running. He loved to run. There was something so cathartic about it – it always cleared his head and lifted his spirits. The rhythm, the cool air against his skin, the breath filling his lungs all soothed him.

  After a half hour, he turned to head back to the house when he noticed where he was. The small white church squatted on the corner, the front doors shut, the back surrounded by evergreens. He climbed the stairs, tugged on the doorknob, and to his surprise the door swung open.

  Warm air rushed out to envelop him and he stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. It felt strange to be there without his father. The sanctuary was empty, but there were a few lights on, so someone was there. He wandered slowly to the front and stared at the pulpit where Dad had stood to give his weekly sermon.

  Jax drew a slow breath, sank to his knees and bowed his head.

  15

  Jax stared out the airplane window at the tarmac in the early-morning darkness. He’d gotten the first flight he could back to Atlanta, since coach expected him at training that day.

  The plane taxied from the jetway, and the ground crew scurried like ants about their business below. He leaned his head against the wall by the window. He’d told Stacey goodbye the previous night. She’d been awkward and quiet, and he’d tried to tell her again that nothing had to change between them, but the words had stuck in his throat when he saw the guarded look on her face. He sighed. He missed her already. Missed home.

  The flight was bumpy but otherwise uneventful. He’d only brought a carry-on bag with him, so as soon as the plane landed he headed for the exit and airport parking, where his Range Rover waited for him. Thoughts of that day, only two weeks ago, flashed through his mind – he’d been frantic, unable to think clearly, wanting to get back to Ardensville as quickly as possible yet dreading it at the same time.

  He threw his bag in the back of the SUV and headed north, bound for Flowery Branch and the Falcons training facility. He’d be a little late, but hopefully Coach would understand.

  When he pulled into the parking lot he saw a familiar figure walking the field. Jax grinned and waved as Wallace jogged to meet him. “You’re back.” he said, offering his hand, then pulling Jax into an embrace.

  “I’m back.”

  “Good to see you, man. You look like you’re doing well. Are you?” Wallace’s eyes were full of compassion for his friend.

  “I’m getting there.”

  “You better head out onto the field soon as you can. Coach is on a tear and he’s been waitin’ for you.”

  Jax nodded. “I figured. Let’s go.” They parted ways, Jax jogging toward the locker room and Wallace back onto the field.

  By the time he was dressed and on the field himself, Coach Jackson’s voice had become a bellow. Things weren’t going well. He’d watched the Packers game and he knew the team hadn’t played their best – they’d lost in the final minutes. And while there’d been a bye week in between, it was clear Coach wasn’t over it yet. “You finally joinin’ us, Green?” he shouted over
the grunts and thuds of defenders hitting training dummies.

  Jax knew better than to argue. “Yes, sir.” He strapped his helmet on.

  “Get out there, boy, and catch some balls. I wanna see you running, leaping and showing me just why I took a chance on you. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Jax knew he still hadn’t proven he was indispensable, though the way his backup had played against the Packers – twenty yards, two fumbles – did help. But he wanted to stay first string, and that meant work. Besides, he was aching to get into it – two weeks had felt like forever away from the game. He headed out to where Wallace and Matt Ryan were throwing passes to the running backs, did a quick warmup and stretches, and joined them.

  “Good to have you back,” said Wallace.

  “Thanks, man. Good to be back.”

  Wallace threw him a few balls and Jax caught them easily. Then he took it up a notch and started throwing over Jax’s head, making him stretch for the catch. Jax missed the first two and got a few jibes from some linemen. He frowned – he’d get this one no matter what. He ran and looked back over his shoulder to see the pigskin sailing toward him. It’d be a stretch, but … he leaped into the air, swiveled, his arms high over his head … got it!

  There was a snap in his right leg. He landed wrong and tumbled to the ground, his leg burning in pain. He writhed around, holding his calf.

  “Green! What’s up, man? Hey, Coach, something’s happened to Green!” Wallace’s words sounded like they came from behind a brick wall. He was soon surrounded by people, and the trainer pried his leg out of his grasp to look it over. He shook his head. “Get the cart,” he barked, and one of the men hurried off to call it in.

  Jax lay on his back, staring up at the sky. He didn’t want to test his leg out – he knew what that snap meant. Something – a ligament or tendon, most likely – had ripped loose. The pain had dulled, but if he tried to stand it’d be back with a vengeance. He was done for now. Maybe for a long time.

  “I guess you’re going back home,” said Wallace with a sigh. “Sorry, man.”

  Jax nodded. His dream of making the Pro Bowl was gone for this year, and when he came back he’d have to win the starting job all over again. But there was a silver lining: he could go home and see Stacey again.

  Stacey leaned her elbows on her wooden desk and rested her chin in her hands. A pen spun around in front of her, slowing until finally it came to a stop. She sighed, reached for the pen and set it spinning again.

  “Have you called the Chamberlains back yet?” asked Susannah, tapping her long red fingernails in a steady rhythm on her desk.

  Stacey shook her head. “No. Sorry, I’ll get to that.”

  “We’ve got a ton of new clients thanks to your little dance routine, so you’ve got to pitch in and help. We can’t get it all done ourselves, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s with you today?” Susannah wondered.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re down about something. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Jax went back to Atlanta and I’m living all alone in his big old house and it’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Susannah chuckled. “Sounds to me like you’re in love.”

  Stacey frowned. “I am most definitely not in love.”

  “Well, honey, you just let me know and I’ll happily let you move into my cramped condo with my belching, beer-guzzling husband and take your mansion with swimming pool and Jacuzzi all to myself. Just name the date.” The phone rang, and Susannah laughed and picked it up.

  Stacey smiled. It was true, she really didn’t have anything to complain about. She should just enjoy having a nice place to live and make the most of it.

  Brad walked in the front door, briefcase in hand. He looked even more dapper than usual, with a new haircut that accentuated his chiseled jaw. “Hey, Stace – I wanted to talk to you about something.” He sat in the chair opposite her and leaned his elbows on her desk. “I’m moving out.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Out of Jax’s house. He’s gone back to Atlanta, so I’m going back to my apartment.”

  “Oh. I figured as much.” She smiled half-heartedly.

  “Don’t tell me you’ll miss me. I thought you’d be glad to see the back of me. Now you can live it up, have a slumber party and pillow fight in your PJs with all your girlfriends. You know, that kind of thing.” He winked.

  She chuckled. “Yeah, because my friends and I do that all the time.”

  “I don’t know what you girls get up to, but in the movies …”

  “Well, if it’s in the movies …” She laughed. “Seriously, I will miss having you around.”

  “I’ll miss you too. Although we do work together, so I think we’ll still see plenty of each other.”

  She laughed. “That is true.”

  “Look, I’ve got to go see a client now, but if I’m back in time for lunch do you want to grab some together?”

  She nodded. “That sounds great.”

  He selected some files from his desk and headed out the door with a quick wave over his shoulder. Stacey drew a deep breath and decided to start returning the phone calls she’d promised Susannah she’d get to. But just as she dialed the first number, the chime over the front door rang. She glanced up to see who it was, and blanched. A middle-aged woman wavered on black stiletto boots, her brown hair hanging in limp strands across her face. She wore a red miniskirt, black stockings and a tight black t-shirt. “So here you are,” she mumbled.

  Stacey sighed. “Hi, Momma.”

  “Good morning, chickpea.”

  Momma only called her that when she was drunk. And she was most definitely drunk. The question was how Stacey could get her out of the office again. “Good morning, Momma. What can I do for you?”

  “Woo-ee! Listen to you. Anyone would think you barely knew me. Come to think of it, they might be right, seeing how often you visit.”

  “Come on, Momma, you know that’s not true …” Stacey glanced over at Susannah’s desk, but the other realtor was pointedly looking the other way. She was on her own.

  Momma scowled. “More than at the holidays?”

  She had a point. “Fine, I hear you. More time together would be … nice. Why don’t we go right now to the café across the street and I’ll buy you a coffee? We can get started with our visiting right now.”

  Momma’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just tryin’ to get rid of me. You don’t want to have coffee with me.”

  “Of course I do. I’ve been meaning to come see you, but I’ve just been so busy with my new job and everything.”

  “And your new man,” Momma snarled.

  “Yes, him too.” Perhaps it was time to tell her the truth … no. Heaven knew what she’d do with the information.

  “I don’t expect you to care about me, but the least you could do is check in once in a while to make sure I’m still alive.” Momma’s voice was rising in volume.

  Stacey’s heart ached. She loved her mother – they were blood, and as Dad had always said when he was still alive, blood was thicker than water. But she also knew that being around Momma wasn’t safe. You never knew what she might say next to wound you. “Momma, why don’t I take you home?”

  Momma frowned. “I don’t wanna go home. I’m lookin’ for some fun.”

  “I’ll make you coffee. We can even stop by the bakery – you know that little French place on the corner of First and Pine you love so much? I’ll buy you some chocolate cream croissants and we’ll sit together and eat them – how does that sound?” She used her most soothing voice and warmest smile. There were a few things she’d learned over the years of dealing with her mother, and one was just how to get her home with the least amount of noise and fuss possible.

  Momma’s breaths slowed and she licked her lips. “I could eat a chocolate cream croissant.”

  “Me too – I just love those things.”

>   She nodded. “Okay, let’s go home.”

  Stacey sighed with relief, and only then noticed Susannah was staring at them, one hand on the phone as if about to call for backup. Stacey smiled at her, and Susannah’s hand shifted from the phone. No doubt the realtor had dealt with Momma before, given that Brad owned the place.

  Outside, Stacey helped Momma into her car, noting that her mother’s car was nowhere in sight. She’d deal with that later, unless Momma had walked into town. It was ten miles, but you never knew what Momma might get up to when she’d been drinking.

  By the time Stacey reached the bakery, Momma’s head lolled against the seat belt and her eyes were shut. Her lids flickered intermittently as though she was having a dream, and she moaned occasionally. Stacey got the croissants herself, letting Momma sleep in the car, then headed for Bright Lake Trailer Park.

  Given everything the woman had been through in her life, Stacey wondered what kind of nightmares she might be having and whether they could be any worse than reality. She knew her mother had been abused, by Daddy among others – she’d seen that enough with her own eyes over the years. The men she’d picked up at local bars, truck stops, even the laundromat once, were no better. The few that stuck around long-term usually had worse drinking problems than Momma, and two had been drug addicts.

  Her car sputtered, then stopped outside Momma’s doublewide. The garden looked even weedier than usual, and part of the gutter in front hung at an odd angle. This was a really bad sign – no matter what else was going on in her life, Momma had always kept the house in good shape. It was the one thing in her childhood she’d been able to count on – there might not be much to eat in the refrigerator, but there was always the scent of Pine-Sol in the air and everything was neatly in its place. Momma was too proud to let the house slip. Until now.

  She glanced worriedly at Momma, leaning against the car door with her mouth ajar. She patted Momma’s thin arm, noting how much thinner it had become since she last saw her. “Momma? Momma?”