As a former member of the American Armed Forces, Mitchell Jacob Smith’s funeral was a quiet affair. Had he died in combat, the setting would have been more formal inside the church. His body had been ripped apart as if he’d been in the desert, but he had died in an apartment living room.
Mitch’s tissues had been harvested; Max and Liz felt their son’s death had to carry some small gain. No one could imagine what else it might be, not even Jenny, Sam, or Tommie. Those three were the most likely to accept something not yet considered as positive, but perhaps worthwhile. Andy also felt it, but not even with a new grasp of faith could he imagine what it would be.
It seemed to have nothing to do with Tanner. That young man was still in Salem, would remain there for the rest of the year. Between emotional trauma and drug addiction, Tanner was nowhere near filling the void Mitch had wished to ease. Instead Mitch was dead and Max, Liz, Emily, and Travis cried openly. Many others, especially David, did too.
Carson hadn’t left his girlfriend’s side, nor had Sandra strayed far from David’s. A kindergarten teacher in her hometown of Salem, she had attended the state university in Portland, then returned home, living a quiet, unassuming life. Meeting David during summer vacation in southern Washington, now she was roped into, as Tommie said, a family usually as serene and inconspicuous as Sandra’s own. Until Jackson Hooper was arrested, those words no longer described the Smiths and Cassels, Sheltons and Schumachers.
Sam, Jenny, and Tommie did agree on one thing. Time was approaching for the trust to be dispersed. But first a beloved was feted, mourned, eulogized. Janessa and Mike read Romans 8:28-39, what Liz said Mitch had mentioned right before coming home from Iraq. The entire church fell to a hush of tears and wonder after Janessa was led from the podium in Mike’s grip. The pastor offered a final prayer, closing the service.
With so many born over the years, none had yet been laid to rest, but Mitch would be buried not far from where Alvin rested. A large open space near Alvin’s marker had been purchased, Tommie and Rae insisting. Mitch was a Smith by name and would initiate that family’s plot.
The senior Cassels owned a section on Alvin’s other side, near Maisie and Jake Cassels’ graves, but Jacob and Debbie hadn’t argued that Mitch should lie within the Smith parcel. What were names anymore, what were relationships? In the pouring rain, some of the family attended the internment. Not Jenny or her eldest daughter, but Rachel joined her father and most of her brothers. Sandra took David to his parents’ house, her best friend Pru Castle accompanying.
Rae and Debbie stood with their husbands, large umbrellas over each couple. Sam and his children bolstered Scott and Alana while Max’s other siblings supported a father and mother burying the first of any of their offspring. A cold, damp day chilled all bones, but the steadfast verses spoken by Mike and Janessa filtered through minds, keeping the more disturbing questions at bay.
Afterwards most met at the village hall, the same building Sam and Jenny had danced at when Keith and Sylvia commemorated their anniversary, where many of the middle generation had celebrated wedding receptions; Steve and Marcy, Lexi and Ricky, even Alana and Tim McGillis. Perhaps future weddings would employ this place to make toasts and dance. That day it was to grieve.
No one mentioned Tanner’s absence, but David and Sandra didn’t join either. This family had just gathered the previous week, some at Will’s birthday, then all for Thanksgiving. Now they milled about, along with Mitch’s friends from high school and two former comrades having traveled from Idaho and Nevada. Friends of Max and Liz mingled too, but Jenny was certain Carson Spencer would be the next familial addition; Emily was never far from that man’s side.
Jenny wasn’t sure of much else. By the end of the week all the kids would be gone, even Travis and Emily, but they weren’t heading to California until Sunday. While Max and Liz had wanted to afford a speedy goodbye for those college-bound, no one seemed in any hurry to leave. At five o’clock people still huddled, as if every single person needed to touch base. Jenny shared words with kids who would normally offer a friendly wave. She learned that Brian Smith, recently turned twenty-one, was trying to decide if he should stay in California or move home to Oregon. That he called Oregon home told Jenny much, but he seemed uncertain, also more loquacious than in ages.
The same went for Dustin Shelton; it was the boys she rarely spoke to, but that day she chatted with everyone. Jenny hardly moved, chocolate pound cake crumbs on her plate. It might be a funeral reception, but both Jenny and Rae had needed a lift.
When it was over, Sam took Jenny and Rachel home. Sandra’s friend Pru had left, but in that short space of days, Sandra had been integrated, Jenny not assuming more than what she saw. Which had been a couple as needy of each other as the rest of her attached children.
All but Rachel, yet Sam found a message from Cory Sanchez. Mrs. Cassel was to call when she felt ready to resume therapy. And that Cory hoped both Rachel and her brother were all right.
David’s recovery took place on the farm. He suffered a few lingering headaches from the concussion, had cut his hair short after stitches were removed. While Jenny resumed therapy, David wondered if he too might benefit from the healing touch of Cory Sanchez.
“I can’t do much for your headaches,” Cory said. “But we’ll see.”
“Thanks.” David watched from the kitchen doorway as Jenny lay flat on a table Sam had bought for this very purpose. “Will you make house calls for me too?”
“As long as they’re not at one p.m. Monday through Friday,” Cory smiled.
“That’s my slot David. Make your own appointments.” Jenny wore a small grin.
“Maybe I’ll just follow you. Don’t think I’m gonna be getting up to Washington anytime soon.”
By the middle of December, that hadn’t been broached, but Sandra visited every weekend, staying with David in the top floor bedroom. Unspoken was David’s joy at her presence, and that perhaps his leave from work might be extended.
“Well, if you’re here, let me know. I don’t do house calls outside of Linn County,” Cory said.
“So noted,” David nodded. “Hey Mom, where’d Rache take off to?”
She usually sat between her brother and where Jenny lay. David hadn’t seen her since that morning.
“She’s over at Chelse’s. Babies are sick.”
Cory said nothing, but David felt mischievous. “So she say any more about that guy?”
“What guy David?”
“Oh, maybe she didn’t mention him to you.”
“I guess not.”
Cory remained impassive and David poured some coffee.
When the session ended, David went upstairs. Upon returning, he found his mother with a weary expression. “You need some pound cake?” he asked.
“You need to keep your mouth shut. You should’ve seen the look on his face.”
“Oh really? And what look was that?”
“Like…” Jenny wanted to say as if someone had shot Cory’s dog. Instead she pointed a finger at her son. “Like big brother needs to keep his nose out of little sister’s business.”
“Well, maybe this’ll light a fire under him. God, he’s about as interesting as…”
“As someone else’s quiet girlfriend.”
They stared at each other. “Sandra is NOT like Cory Sanchez.”
“No, maybe she’s more like Bethany Traynor.”
David frowned, then shrugged. “Well, she loosened up so…”
“So keep your ideas to yourself. Rachel’s not a little kid anymore. She’s twenty-four and…”
Both gasped. Mitch had turned twenty-four while still in Iraq, Rachel that age in October. Now Rachel would pass her cousin; Mitch would never grow any older.
The rest of the month carried a similar mood but three babies entertained as Will and Bethany didn’t travel east. Tanner was still hospitalized and Alana visited him a few times a week, moments both initially fretted, then spent attempting to piece together
a young man’s mind and one mother’s heart. Scott went weekly, but couldn’t go more than that. When the kids were off for Christmas vacation, Alana would take them too.
Eric went and Jenny had gone once. Sam visited, taking David. He had seen Tanner for only minutes before Tanner began to tremble, asking David not to return. Instead, using his father’s car, David headed to the elementary school where Sandra taught. Sam always timed his visits so David could share lunch with Miss Mittingham.
By late December, Jenny had to wonder if Miss Mittingham was going to be Mrs. Cassel. David said nothing, but had made noises that maybe he would go back to school. Cara was murmuring the same, but more from her job’s instability. If she was another casualty of the economy’s deterioration, she would just earn her masters.
Dana and Eric weren’t making any move toward matrimony, but a month after Mitch’s funeral, New Year’s Eve approaching, Dana and Jenny took their medicines together off the back porch. Coffee followed as bodies accepted the peace.
They were alone, Sam having taken David and Eric to see Tanner. Cory was due and Jenny wasn’t sure what Dana would do in that time. She asked out of curiosity and Dana smiled. “Eric left his truck. I’ll just go home.”
“Maybe we need to get you a car. Sort of silly for you and Eric to share one.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I never go anywhere without him.”
“That all right for you both?”
“Eric hasn’t complained.”
Jenny smiled. “Well, it worked for me and Alvin, then Sam. Now times are back to where again I’m depending on the kindness of strangers.”
She hadn’t meant for the double meaning, but Jenny had once been similar to this young woman, furtive and isolated. Years later Jenny drove to town on her own, but even then she and Sam rarely strayed, only to San Francisco to see Robert, then their children. Now she didn’t even have to leave for therapy.
“Jenny, what happened to you?”
She answered Dana’s query without missing a beat. “I was raped when I was thirteen years old.”
As those words left Jenny’s lips, Dana seemed to shrink into herself, as a child hoping for the most secure, hidden shelter. Jenny didn’t attempt to touch her. She drank her coffee, wishing for a thin slice of pound cake.
Not chocolate, only lemon, what she had enjoyed that first day. Pound cake meant more than release. It meant Alvin, love, and home, Sam, babies, and forty-one rose bushes. With Steve’s help, Max and Liz had planted twenty-four bushes all around their house. Liz had said that come summer, their place would smell like a perfume factory. It was the first time Jenny had heard Liz’s voice at all hopeful, but flowers did that to a woman.
Jenny wasn’t sure what they would do for Max, but it had been Steve’s idea, remembering how Robert had wanted to honor Alvin. What comes around goes around, Jenny thought, as Dana grasped her hand.
“Did Eric, I mean… You know, don’t you?”
“I know someone hurt you. Someone hurt me too.” Then Jenny paused. “But Eric doesn’t know about that.”
Dana’s lower lip quivered. “Oh Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ,” she repeated, gripping Jenny’s hand tighter.
“Honey, I never told anyone who could’ve really helped, or rather anyone I wanted to help me.” Joni’s shrink had been more for Joni than Jenny. “But Alvin listened, told me it wasn’t my fault. Told me he loved me.” She smiled. “That was probably the best thing he could’ve said.”
Dana cleared her throat. “But Eric doesn’t know?”
“Only Chelse, out of my kids.” Jenny sighed. “Will asked a while back, when they were trying to get pregnant with Louise. But I never said anything, not until after Chelsea had the twins.”
“Will you, I mean, are you gonna tell them?”
“I don’t know. You think I need to?”
As if somehow a mother’s honesty could heal a woman not even her daughter-in-law, but Dana shook her head. “I have no fucking idea.”
Dana was gone long before Cory arrived. Jenny had received a text from Eric’s girlfriend; she was at home, was safe. Right before she lay on the table, Jenny wrote back that she was relieved to hear it. And that Jenny loved her.
Rachel was fifteen minutes late, eating her lunch in the kitchen. Since Mitch’s death, she hadn’t been present during these sessions. Cory had heard all the details, Jenny loquacious when not groaning in discomfort.
After fifty minutes, the therapist stood back. “Well, maybe that’s it for today. You seem pretty loose.”
“I feel it.” Part of Jenny’s heart still ached from Dana’s words and a few of her own. Will had asked, and while Jenny expected to tell Dana more as time passed, maybe Jenny’s son needed to know before a young woman not even related heard the story.
“Okay well, I’ll see you Monday, but not Tuesday, the holiday you know. Then back to regular sessions, all right?”
“You’re the doctor,” Jenny said.
“I wish.” Cory smiled, his voice wistful.
Rachel approached, helping her mother off the table. Rachel didn’t say anything to the therapist, but asked Jenny when the rest were due back.
“Probably around four. David likes to spend time with Miss Mittingham.”
“Is he seeing a specialist up there?” Cory asked.
Rachel smiled. “Yeah, she’s helping him grow.”
“Rache!” Jenny stifled a laugh, then chuckled.
Cory stared at them. “Something for ladies only?”
“His girlfriend,” Jenny offered. “She’s a teacher.”
“Kindergarten,” Rachel smirked. “Perfect for his intellect.”
“Well, as long as they’re happy,” Cory said without emotion.
Rachel said nothing, helping her mother toward her room. Then Rachel was told she could finish her lunch, to which a daughter gave a dutiful Yes Mother, as if she was the five-year-old.
The sounds of a session’s end were heard, also those of utensils against a plate, noises awkward and telling. But no words emerged. Then Rachel heard Goodbye in a loud voice, toward Jenny’s door. Usually her mother was out by the time Cory was ready to leave, but that day Rachel had to wonder.
Cory poked his head through the kitchen doorway. “Uh, goodbye Rachel. See you Monday.”
“Uh, sure. See you Monday.”
She didn’t turn, busy with leftover lasagna now gone cold.
“Rachel?”
She still didn’t face him, pretending to take a bite. “Yeah?”
“Uh, nothing.”
“Okay.” Rachel put the cool food into her mouth, it felt disgusting. She chewed, then wiped tears.
A warm, strong hand reached for hers and she dropped the fork. “What?” she asked in surprise.
Cory nodded. “It’ll be okay, your mom, your brother, your family. Shit happens but it does work out.”
His face looked as if knowing misery firsthand, but that word, passing through his lips and her mind, couldn’t accurately describe all Rachel had felt since Thanksgiving. She began to cry, then was joined at the table. Then she leaned into Cory’s capable arms, wondering how this had happened.
Chapter 24
Alvin's Farm Book 5: An Innate Sense of Recognition Page 23