What We Take For Truth

by Deborah Nedelman

  “He was sick and there wasn’t anything the doctors could do. That’s all they need to know.” Grace knew how the Prosperity telegraph worked, though, and how impossible it would be to keep the truth from getting out. Rose turned her eyes to Grace’s, searching for something. Apparently, whatever she’d feared or hoped to find wasn’t there, and she turned away, taking Grace’s hand. The two made their way up the steps to the front door.

  “I called Kevin just after I called you. I guess Jackson told him about being sick. He didn’t ask me any questions, just called the mortuary.”

  “The town is going to want some sort of funeral.” Grace knew well how Prosperity honored its dead.

  Rose sighed. “I know. But you know Jackson; never one for church.”

  Rose was looking tired now and Grace opened the door and guided her to a chair.

  “Reverend Foster can do something at the cemetery. I’ll take care of it.” Grace heard the calm, efficient tone of her own voice, and stiffened. She had been a little girl when she first learned to turn off her own grief.

  ***

  Someone had taken down the old wire gate that used to hang at an angle and needed to be lifted in order to get the rusty latch to catch. They’d cut down the tangle of blackberry vines. Outlining the void left where the gate had been was a clean metal arch that framed a view into the cemetery.

  Since her father’s death, Grace had rarely visited this spot, though the graveyard had been one of her favorite places as a child. She first saw it shortly after Annie died. She remembered how the gravestones looked like little houses from her childish perspective. “Is this a little town? Can I play here?” she’d asked Jane when they’d walked up the wooded trail to the old gate. It had taken awhile for Jane to explain that dead people slept under the ground here and that their names were carved in the stones. Grace could still feel the disappointment when her aunt told her, no, her Momma wasn’t here.

  “But this is where the angels live, isn’t it? And Momma is an angel!” Grace remembered calling, “Momma, Momma!” and then thinking, “She’s playing hide-and-seek. But she can see me!”

  Today, the sun broke through the clouds, a thrush called from its hiding place in the cedar hedge, just as Grace stepped through the gate. Even as she walked Rose to Jackson’s gravesite, Grace relived that first day in the cemetery and a temporary calm came over her. She still had the feeling her mother was here, somewhere, watching over her. There was no grave with Annie Tillman’s name on it, but Grace had learned not to question this. Her father had responded with silence and had withdrawn into himself whenever anyone mentioned Annie’s name; Grace had made that mistake rarely. Her own need to know what had happened to her mother had gradually dissolved beneath her need to show her loyalty and love for her father. Grace felt her mother’s presence here in this graveyard and that had been enough. Over the years Grace had had picnics on the cemetery grass and wove stories about the folks whose names she read on the markers. But since Warren was laid to rest here three years ago, the cemetery had become a place of sadness and confusion. Grace had avoided it.

  Now a large crowd was beginning to gather around Jackson’s freshly dug grave. Several people were scattered among the headstones, paying their respects to others buried there. Grace turned to look down the row of graves to the clean, upright stone that read, “Warren Tillman, 1950-1987.”

  “You go ahead, dear,” Rose said, seeing the direction of Grace’s gaze. “We won’t start without you.”

  As Grace walked across the grass to where her father lay, she heard someone step up behind her.

  “Thought you were going to escape this place, eh? No such luck.” Grace recognized the voice immediately.

  “Hi, Patrick.” They hadn’t spoken since she refused to show him the owl nest.

  “You’ve got another chance to do the right thing.” He’d stepped up close to her, the way he used to when he was preparing to give her a kiss. She looked away.

  “Parrot!” Shauna and Jenn approached the couple, and Pat stepped back.

  “You know you want to be on the right side of this, Parrot,” he said as he turned and walked away.

  Shauna threw her arms around Grace and whispered, “What the hell was that about? You really need to get out of here, if he’s still after you!”

  Grace smiled and returned her hug. “First time I’ve talked to him since we broke up. No worries. Tell me, is it great?”

  Jenn nudged her way into the hug. “Are you packed? We’re going back tonight. I’m afraid to stay any longer.”

  Grace nodded. “I actually never unpacked. But I don’t know about leaving tonight. Rose might need—”

  “What did I tell you, Parrot? She’s got lots of support. You can’t let this stop you, and we have to leave tonight.” As Shauna said this, Grace looked at the faces of her two friends and she knew she they were right. Rose would manage.

  “OK. I’ll talk to you after this is over. Rose is waiting.” She turned her head toward her father’s grave and silently promised him she’d be back. Then she returned to Rose’s side.

  During the service, Grace held the widow’s shaky hand and looked at the pale faces around her. The lives of everyone here—everyone in town—were knotted up with the fate of the mill. Grace saw their blank, staring eyes and their shoulders slumped with grief—and something that looked more like fear. Not one of them had known Jackson was ill. Rose may have thought she could prevent panic by keeping it a secret, but Grace now saw how wrong that choice had been. This was a town in shock.

  Everyone knew how hard Jackson had been working to keep the mill alive. With the logging restrictions, the mill hadn’t been able to fulfill a couple of big contracts and it had cost them. The word got out—Dyer’s Mill couldn’t be counted on. Their customers had quickly turned to other sources. There was little loyalty these days. Even Grace knew how Jackson had worried over their best customer, a Japanese firm that bought nearly all their cedar. If that firm pulled out, there was no point in keeping the mill open. But they hadn’t. No one was sure how Jackson had pulled it off.

  Now what was going to happen? Rose wasn’t prepared to run the mill.

  As they lowered Jackson’s body into the earth, Clett Tolfson mumbled, “You was good to us, Jackson.” Everyone knew the story. After Clett’s accident, Jackson made sure the Tolfsons had enough money to keep their house and then he fought with the insurance company to get Clett the treatment he needed. Shauna stood between her parents. Her mother nodded. “He was a good man.”

  The crowd pressed close, gathering their communal strength. Grace felt the warmth of a body behind her, then a tug on her shirt, “You didn’t go.” Kev’s loud, unmodulated voice rang through the hush.

  Grace smiled and reached her free hand back to the boy. “Not yet, Kev,” she whispered. Dammit, she hadn’t prepared him. When he walked into the café tomorrow morning and she wasn’t there, he’d be distraught. She’d have to talk to Mary and Kevin, let them know that she was going to abandon Kev, just like Jackson abandoned this whole town.

  A wave of anger spread through her. Why had Jackson insisted on keeping his illness a secret? Why didn’t he prepare us? In her head Grace composed a eulogy of her own. Jackson Dyer may have been a good guy, even a good boss, but in the end, he let you all down. He knew he was sick and he could have told you, helped you prepare. This didn’t have to be another sudden loss. He didn’t need to leave you all in shock. In the end he abandoned all of us.

  Dammit, Jackson! You knew this town was dependent on your mill. How could you be so irresponsible? We loved you. You can’t just disappear.

  Rose reached across and put her free hand on Grace’s arm. “I’m OK, Grace. You can let go.”

  Grace looked down to see her own hand squeezing Rose’s so tightly that the older woman’s fingers had turned white. She felt her face flush and she released her grip. “Sorry,” she whispered. Rose nodded and returned her gaze to the grave.

  Grace too
k a deep breath and stepped back to let Rose say her private goodbyes. Kev grinned up at her. “You didn’t go. I said, ‘maybe, maybe not.’ And it was maybe not.”

  "But Kev, I am going. I’m leaving tonight.” The tears she hadn’t cried for Jackson were now welling up in her eyes.

  Kev refused to listen. “Maybe, maybe not,” he sang and turned away. “I’m going home now.” And he shuffled over to where Mary stood waiting for him.

  Before Grace could collect herself, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Henry Martin standing behind her. “He was a great guy. We’re going to miss him,” Henry said.

  “Yeah,” Grace agreed. She motioned Henry over to stand with her away from the crowd. Henry was younger than her father, but the two men had had each other’s backs in the woods. Grace knew Henry as a reliable friend, one she trusted to be honest with her. “What’s going to happen with the mill, though? Rose can’t run it. This town is screwed!” She tried to keep her voice down.

  “Oh, Jackson took care of that. I mean, sure, these are bad times. But Jackson set things up awhile ago. Rose doesn’t have to worry.” He was so sanguine about it Grace was caught off guard.

  “What?” she blurted, more loudly than she intended.

  Henry’s answer was interrupted by Shauna, who came up to them and motioned to Grace. “I think Rose might be ready to leave.” She gestured toward where the older woman stood surrounded by the whole town.

  Grace saw the overwhelmed look on Rose’s face.

  “Oh, no!”

  She rushed to Rose’s side and managed to extricate the widow from the crowd of sympathizers. “They loved Jackson. They don’t know what to do with their grief,” Rose said as she stuffed a crumpled tissue into her pocket. “None of us do, I guess.”

  Grace took hold of Rose’s arm and guided her back to the truck.

  “Well, you don’t have to take care of them. At least not today and not all at once. Right?” Grace loved that about Rose. The older woman always saw the good intentions beneath people’s sometimes not-so-good behavior.

  As soon as they were settled in the truck, Rose put her hand on Grace’s knee. “Grace, I need to talk with you.”

  Grace tensed. If she asks me to stay, she thought, how can I say no?

  “Jackson left something for you. It’s his gift and he hoped it would make your life easier, not more complicated. We talked about it when he was preparing his will. I told him it might be more of a burden for you than a benefit, but he was adamant.” Rose paused.

  Grace let out a sigh. She was relieved that Rose wasn’t asking her to stay, but after all her angry thoughts about Jackson, learning he’d left something sent a wave of guilt through her.

  “He left you Jake’s old cabin.”

  Grace felt the blood drain from her face.

  Rose searched Grace’s face, as if looking for reassurance. “You know that old place was always a bit of a thorn in Jackson’s side. He’d wanted to tear it down so he could expand the mill.”

  “What do you mean, he left it to me?”

  “He wanted you to have your own place. Some place in Prosperity you could always call home and come back to if you ever left. Since the cabin can’t be torn down by the stipulations of Jake’s will, he had two choices. He could leave it to someone who would value it and preserve it, or he could give it to the Parks Department and let them turn it into a museum. Jackson was always one to choose life over—” Rose went silent and pulled back from Grace, stiffening.

  “Grace, just make it live again. There’s enough money in the bequest for you to make that place livable. It’ll take a while for all the legal falderal, but it’s yours. Stay here long enough to bring it back to life, and then go if you still want to.” The widow now opened her purse and pulled a key from its depths. She handed it to Grace. “Do that for me. Will you, dear?”

  The key lay innocently in Grace’s open palm. As she folded her fingers over it, Grace felt her heart open. Dear, stubborn Jackson. How could she say no to this? A home of her own. It didn’t mean she had to stay in Prosperity, just fix it up a bit like Rose asked and then go. But she’d always have a place to come back to, a place where she could keep Annie’s memory alive. How could she have been angry with him? He hadn’t abandoned the town, and he hadn’t abandoned her. “Of course.” Then she clenched her fist around the key and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Grace had fantasized about what it would be like to live in Jake’s old cabin since she was a little kid. It was right next door to the sawmill. You could see it from the schoolyard. She’d passed it hundreds of times when she went to meet her father at the end of the day. Other kids had told stories about it being haunted, but she’d always thought of it as a magical place and dreamed of the fantastical creatures that lived inside. Jackson kept a huge, forbidding lock hanging from a thick chain strung across the door.

  Jackson.

  Grace caught her breath, “Rose, did you know that Jackson had made some sort of arrangements for the mill in case he died?”

  Rose looked over at her. “Of course he did. He started turning the whole business over to the crew, well, I guess it was a year or more ago. I wasn’t so sure about it at first, but he knew what he was doing.” Rose took a deep breath. “I think I’d like to be alone now. Can you just take me home?”

  “Yes, yes.” Grace’s hand shook as turned on the ignition and put the car in gear. She kept her eyes on the road and lifted her left arm to her cheek to wipe the tears as she drove away from the cemetery.

  Chapter 4

  The truck’s tires sent gravel ricocheting off the trees as Grace and Rose wound their way up the road to the Dyer home. It was a striking house, alone in the only clearing in Jake’s preserve. The terms of Jake’s will allowed his grandson to cut enough trees to make space for one house, but that was the only exception to the logging prohibition. Jackson had used the old-growth timber to make a home with the rustic look of a cottage, but large enough for the family he’d hoped to raise there.

  Rose had begged Jackson to push the edge of the forest as far from the house as the restrictions would allow so she could plant the flowers that brought her joy. It had been a challenge to place the plants precisely where they could benefit from the scarce sunlight.

  Over the years Rose’s garden had developed its own blooming schedule that differed from the houses farther down the mountain. In the heart of Prosperity, the pale tips of daffodil and tulip buds promised to burst any day into shocking color. In Rose’s garden, trees were just beginning to leaf out. Ice still caked the edges of dark flowerbeds and small mounds of snow still owned the shadows.

  “Thank you. I’ll be fine now,” she said as Grace helped her out of the truck.

  Grace nodded and leaned in to kiss Rose on the cheek. “I’ll come by tomorrow with some food.”

  “No, no. Please, no.” Rose waved a dismissive hand and turned to walk up the path to her front door. “I’ve more than enough food. Casseroles I’ll never touch, soups, breads. The women have taken care of all that. Just leave me be, dear. I’ll be fine.” She looked back at Grace. “Take care of that cabin,” she said firmly. Then Rose got out of the car, went in to her house and shut the door.

  The click of the lock.

  Grace let her shoulders droop and she leaned her head against the steering wheel. The reality of her situation was setting in. Dammit. That cabin was going to take weeks to fix up. How long could she expect Shauna and Jen to keep her room open? She sighed and turned the truck around and headed back to Jane’s.

  She’d dressed in a dark skirt and sweater for the funeral and, as usual, these clothes made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. Grace grimaced recalling the six-inch heels and miniskirts Shauna had foreseen for her. At least she could put that off for a while.

  As soon as she got back to Jane’s, Grace ran to the bedroom, kicked her pumps into the corner and started to pull off her skirt. Jane stood in the doorway looking puzzled.

  “H
ow’s Rose doing? I thought you’d stay at her place for a few nights.”

  “No, she wants to be by herself. She was really clear about that.” Grace grinned. “I won’t be here long, though.”

  “Right,” Jane nodded. “Shauna called and said they’d be by around eight.”

  “Um. Jane?” Grace took a deep breath letting her skirt drop to the floor and stepping out of it. “I’m not going to Seattle. At least not for a while.”

  “You’re not going to Seattle? You’re not moving in with Pat after all? I saw you two talking at the funeral.” Jane shook her head in disbelief. “Damn it, Grace, how dumb can you be?”

  Grace laughed, “Well, not that dumb, apparently.” She realized in that moment that Jackson must not have expected her to marry Pat or he wouldn’t have given her the cabin. Or at least he’d wanted her to have an option. “I am now the owner of my own place.” Grace stood tall and straight and skirt-less before her aunt. “Jackson left me the old cabin.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Jane sank down onto Grace’s bed.

  Ignoring her aunt’s deflated tone, Grace dug her jeans out of her suitcase and pulled them on.

  “He left me the money to fix it up too. Rose practically begged me to stay and make it livable.”

  “God damn Rose and Jackson!” Jane pounded her fists on her knees. “Just when I really thought you were going to get yourself out of this shit hole!”

  The ferocity of Jane’s reaction jolted Grace. “It should be a relief to you. You won’t have to put up with me anymore. No worry that I’ll come bouncing back to you.”

  Jane jumped up from the bed and stomped out of the room. In the hallway, she stopped and called over her shoulder. “All I can say is, those Dyers have tied a huge boulder around your neck. You’re going to have to handle it by yourself. I won’t let Prosperity reach its claws out and drag me back in.”

  Grace leaned against her doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to stay.” She hadn’t expected Jane to jump for joy, but she didn’t anticipate such a furious reaction. “What difference does it make to you where I go, as long as I’m out of your house?”