The Sweet By and By

by Sara Evans

  “We don’t.”

  Setting the syrup down, she faced him. “Tell me you know, Max. I won’t marry you if you don’t. Forget annulments; forget teenage heartbreak or ex-husbands and fiances. If you’re not the real deal”—she slipped his diamond from her finger—“you can take this and go.”

  Max gently slipped the ring back on her finger. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Jade, after a year, I’m more in love with you than I’ve ever been with anyone. I think about you in the middle of depositions. Sometimes, I get a sense of well-being, wholeness, and I pause to wonder why. It’s you. Nights on the sofa watching movies or playing Scrabble with you are like a rocket shot to the moon.”

  She fell into him, looping her arms around him. “I don’t deserve you.”

  His hand caressed her back, hugging her tight. “I’m all in, Jade.”

  “Thank you for being patient with me.”

  “It’s not easy, knowing you’ve been married before.”

  “But you and I are nothing like what I had before. There was no real ceremony, no one knew except Stu and Rachel. Dustin and I never lived together. I didn’t change my name. Everything with you is new. There will be so many firsts, from the ceremony to—”

  “Our first child.”

  Jade turned to the counter and uncapped the milk, splashing a gulp into the blender jar. “Sure, our first child.”

  “So, the past is the past.”

  “Nothing before we met each other existed.”

  “Everything is new.”

  Jade covered the shake concoction and pressed the Liquefy button. Max retrieved the fountain glasses, and when the mixture was the right texture, Jade poured.

  “Mm, best in town, babe.” Max’s kiss was wet and cold. He fell against the counter. “As long as we’re coming clean . . .”

  Jade lowered her milkshake, licking the chocolate mustache from her lip. “What do you mean?”

  “That business with Mom, and kicking you out of the kitchen . . .” Max opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a long, skinny spoon. “I was addicted to pain meds a few years ago, Jade. It started when I was in high school, and I reinjured my back playing basketball during law school. I went to the doc, and he gave me Percocet and . . . I was feeling no pain.”

  “Just like that, you were hooked?”

  “Not overnight, but my back would tighten after a long study session, with hours still ahead of me. Percocet took the edge off and didn’t make me drowsy. Over time, I started thinking I needed them for the long nights in the law library.”

  “I see.” Jade stirred her chocolate shake. “Are you struggling now?”

  “No, but I can’t convince Mom. She’s afraid it’ll happen again. She only gave me four pills from that prescription.” He stirred his drink. “Then, when I was with Rice, I’d taken on a big divorce case that got a lot of media attention. I was in constant pain. Or so I thought.” He checked her response with a deep gaze. “I learned how to get what I needed.”

  His confession made the atmosphere of her heart feel normal again. “Do I need to worry?”

  “No.” He tipped up his glass. “I don’t want to do that to you, Jade.”

  “That’s what Rice meant . . . you were in denial.”

  “We broke up, and I got help.”

  “Then the relationship fell apart because of your issue with pain pills? Not because you realized it wasn’t going to work?”

  Max set his milkshake aside and pinned Jade between his arms, hands locked on the counter behind her. “My problem was just the catalyst. But like I told you, Jade, Rice had always been more of a buddy. She was one of the guys. We started hanging out, then dating. Mom said to me one night, ‘You’re all but engaged, Max.’ For the first time in my adult life, I realized I was old enough, responsible enough to get married. I ran out and bought a ring, convincing myself she was the one.”

  “Rice said something about wanting to work things out with you.”

  “Who cares what she said, Jade? If I wanted to be with her, I would be. Period. Truth is, she doesn’t want to be with me either.”

  She tapped her forehead to his chin. “What a mess, you and me.”

  “But we’re going to make it.”

  They carried their shakes into the living room and curled up on the sofa, Jade tucking her cold toes under his leg. Max flipped to ESPN for SportsCenter.

  “Remember, tomorrow is my bachelor day with the guys. Six a.m. tee time.”

  She tipped her glass to scoop out a melting clump of ice cream with her tongue. “All day?”

  “All day. Why don’t you do something fun with your mom and Willow?”

  “Oh, sure, you get a great day with the guys, and I get stuck with Mom and Willow.”

  “Then call Daphne and Margot.”

  “Actually, Willow’s going hiking with a group she met in the park.”

  “You’re kidding? A bunch of strangers? Scary—”

  “Tell me. And Mama seems content to sit and listen to records or talk to Lillabeth. I don’t think she feels well.”

  “Has she said anything more to you about the leukemia?”

  “No. I just let her be. Seems to work for both of us.” She leaned across the sofa for a slow and passionate kiss. “Go, have fun with your boys.”

  He brushed his fingers through her hair. “I love you.”

  “I know.” Maybe for the first time, she really did.

  Daphne and Margot waltzed into the Blue Umbrella the next morning. “Spa day, let’s go. Max called Daph at six a.m. and said to take you for a spa day. His treat.” Margot did a jig around the office. “We’re ready to be pampered.”

  “Can’t.” Jade carried the cash drawer out to the register. “I’ve got a lot to do today.”

  “Girl, it’s your last weekend of freedom before Ball and Chain Day.” Daphne held a cashmere sweater to her torso. “This is gorgeous.”

  “Remind me not to come to you for relationship advice, Daph.” Margot draped her arm over Jade’s shoulders. “Come on, for old time’s sake. Max is paying. How can you not?”

  “This isn’t fair, and you know it. I’d love to spend the day at a spa with y’all, but I’ve got so much to do before the wedding. I wouldn’t be able to relax.”

  “Did you see her desk, Margot? It’s been attacked by lime green sticky notes.” Daphne handed Lillabeth her credit card. “What’s my discount, Jade?”

  “Zero.” Jade didn’t even hesitate.

  “What? No friend discount?”

  “Hey, two-hundred-bazillion-dollars-an-hour headshrinker, pay the full price and tip the cashier.” Margot winked at Lillabeth. “We agreed no discounts until Jade got on her feet, remember?”

  “She looks like she’s on her feet to me.”

  Daphne purchased her sweater and Jade walked them out to Margot’s car, promising a spa day when she got back from her honeymoon. The girls had yet to hear the details about Mama, Dustin, and the battle of the mighty plunger against the burning box.

  Jade wanted their full attention when she doled out the details.

  But her stomach contracted and deflated like a day-old balloon when she waved good-bye and Margot and Daphne pulled away. They’d been a trio for so long.

  Mama arrived at the Blue Umbrella shortly after opening and sat in the storage room, listening to a Beach Boys LP.

  “Jade, this woman wants a consignment form.” Lillabeth pointed to a well-groomed older woman with an air of Southern aristocracy.

  “Certainly.” In the office, Jade was fishing a form from the file cabinet when her cell rang from her pants pocket.

  “Aren’t you off with the boys? Golfing?”

  “Yeah, but I just wanted to say I love you and I’m sorry about everything. Being stupid about Dustin, not telling you about the meds.”

  “I love you, and I’m sorry for being stupid about Dustin too. But I like a little bit of the jealous Max from time to time.” Sometimes she craved the
way Max made her feel. Loved, wanted. Worthy.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  When she hung up with him, her cell rang again. Jade answered as she walked the consignment form out to the customer.

  “What now?” she said, laughing as she pictured Max leaning on his 3-wood.

  “Hello? Is this Jade Fitzgerald?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed her humor. “Can I help you?”

  “Jade, it’s Lynette Simpson.”

  “Lynette, hey.” Jade scanned her to-do stickies. Seems she had one here with Lynette’s name on it.

  “What time will you be here today? My daughter has a rehearsal tonight for the children’s Christmas choir, and—”

  “The Lugger estate.” Jade ripped the sticky from her desk. It’d been moved to the top row when it should’ve been on the bottom. “Lynette, I’m sorry, I forgot.”

  “Jade, you have to come today. I can’t hold your pieces any longer. I’ll have to sell them.”

  “I gave you a deposit.”

  “Then come get the inventory.”

  She needed the Lugger inventory. Well, wanted it, anyway. Jade had passed on other estates to save for this one. She’d fallen in love with the Lugger’s antique French sofa and begged Lynette to hold it for her. The Italian pasta service and the jewelry were worth the trip over, nevermind the rest of the inventory she’d selected from the sale. Shoot, shoot, shoot. What time is it? Eleven. Okay. Roughly two hours to Nashville. “How about one thirty, two o’clock. Is that okay?”

  “Three at the latest, Jade. I’ve got to run some errands and get dinner before the rehearsal.”

  “I’m on my way.” She’d have a full truck bed when she returned home tonight.

  “Guess wedding details can mess with a girl’s schedule.” Lynette’s tone softened.

  “You might say that.” Jade snapped her phone shut, grabbed a bite of the cinnamon bun that had been there all morning, and rounded the office door to the shop. “Lillabeth, my darling, dear, beautiful employee.”

  “Nothing good ever starts with those words.”

  “I’ve got to run to Nashville and pick up the Lugger estate items. They’re too valuable and unique to let them go. Can you handle the shop by yourself?”

  “I’m your girl. I’ll even open tomorrow for you if you want, after church. You can have the afternoon off.”

  “Still begging for more hours? What’s up, Lillabeth? It’s not like your parents don’t have money.”

  “I owe someone, like I said.” Lillabeth walked from behind the counter and started straightening the pumpkin display.

  “Owe who?” Jade dusted crumbs and sugar icing from her fingers, reaching under the counter for a wet wipe.

  “A friend.” Lillabeth’s eyes glistened.

  “Did you borrow money? Lose her favorite top?”

  “I wrecked his car.”

  “Oh, honey.” Jade stepped closer. “Was it bad?”

  Lillabeth nodded, wiping her eyes. “Fifteen hundred dollars’ worth.”

  “That’s a lot of vintage.”

  “Every time I think of it, I get all watery.” Lillabeth’s laugh was weak but buoyed with hope. “I gave Alex my savings, but I still need eight hundred dollars. My parents were pretty mad. They’re making me earn the money to pay Alex back.” She kicked at the largest pumpkin, knocking over a little pilgrim man. “I stayed up all night to figure out a plan, going over what I had saved, what I could earn here. My dad is big on having a plan.”

  “What about basketball?” Jade stooped to set the man on his buckle-shoe feet.

  “I quit the team.”

  “Lilla, no—”

  “I wasn’t having fun anymore, Jade. When I smashed Alex’s car, the only way I could pay him was to try to work more hours, so I left the team. Coach understood.”

  “Then work all you want. I’ll contribute to the cause. And I’d be grateful if you’d open tomorrow for me.”

  Lillabeth brightened. “I’ll be here right after church. Thank you, Jade.”

  Back in the office, Jade grabbed her purse and the shop checkbook. Keys? Got them. Office was all good. She surveyed her desk and shelves to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Flipping off the light, she closed the door behind her.

  “Count down the drawer when you close, and put the money in the bag. I’ll worry about the deposit on Monday.” Jade gave a few other last-minute instructions to Lillabeth. Not that she needed them. “Oh, Roscoe. He’s up in the loft. Can you walk him in an hour or so? Feed him about five?”

  That was it. She remembered everything. Jade headed for the storeroom door.

  “Jade?” Lillabeth’s call was soft. “What about your mama?”

  Mama. Right, she’d forgotten Mama. Willow was off hiking, so there was no one else to keep her company. “I’ll just, you know.” Jade exhaled, glancing toward the storeroom. “Take her with me.”

  “Have fun.”

  “Right.” Four hours in the truck with Mama? Fun was not the word Jade had in mind. Opening the storeroom door, Jade was fairly confident Mama would say no to a road trip anyway.

  She was reclined in the pea-green and brown wooly chair, wearing the headset even though the turntable wasn’t turning.

  “Mama?” Jade lightly jiggled her foot. Her eyes popped open, and she sat up with a start.

  “Jade. Sorry, guess I dozed off.” She slipped the headset off.

  “It’s okay.” Given Mama’s circumstances. “Listen, I’m going to Nashville to pick up some inventory for the shop.” If she didn’t say anything else, maybe she could just slip out the door with a casual good-bye.

  “Are you inviting me along?” Mama lowered the footrest, rubbing her hand over her eyes. Strands of gray hair freed from her braid floated around her head.

  “I’ll pull the truck to the door.”

  Beryl watched the hills of Tennessee out her window as Jade sped along I-24 toward Nashville, the old International truck rattling and shimmying.

  Light flashed over her arms and legs, the rays of sun fighting a thick blue army of clouds rolling in from the north.

  “Think it’ll snow?”

  Jade leaned over the wheel and peered out through the windshield. “In the mountains, maybe. It’s a little early for down here.”

  “Reckon so.”

  Jade hadn’t said much since they started out. Other than, “Want a coffee? I’m stopping at 7-11.”

  Maybe she should’ve said no to Jade’s offhand invitation. The recliner was comfortable, and the music eased the ache in her bones and puttied the cracks in her heart.

  “Max,” she ventured. “What’s he up to today?”

  “Golfing with his buddies, then doing some kind of bachelor party in the city. One of them has a house on the river.”

  “Does he golf much? June said he had bad back problems from time to time.”

  “June should mind her own business.”

  “What did he think of Dustin?”

  “They didn’t meet. But he’s happy Dustin signed the papers.”

  “Was it hard, Jade, to see Dustin after all these years?” A bit of music would be good. Beryl pushed the radio button, but no sound came.

  “It’s broken.” Jade gazed out her window for the span of a few mile markers. “Seeing him wasn’t hard. It’s the remembering.”

  “I wouldn’t want to see any of my exes.” Beryl shuddered. Got rid of most of them as soon as she could. Except Harlan. She’d like to see him again. It took a bit of mental scrounging to add up the reasons for their demise.

  “Not even the lieutenant?”

  “No.” The simple answer lingered between them. “Your dad, though. I was just thinking I’d like to see Harlan.”

  “Not me. He can kiss my—”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “I heard you arguing that day I got lost in the cornfield.”

  “What day? When were you lost in the cornfield?” Her memory wasn’t what it used to be. Wi
llow claimed it was because she spent a few too many years smoking weed.

  “Don’t you remember? I was gone most of the night. The sheriff ’s deputies came. Snoops the hound dog found me. I was eight.”

  Beryl shook her head. “You’d think I’d remember.”

  Jade sighed. “Yeah, you’d think.”

  “Don’t get huffy. We all store different memories.”

  “Not remembering the solo I sang in fourth grade is understandable, but having your kid lost in a cornfield?”

  “You sang a solo?”

  “No, Mama, I’m just saying—”

  “What were your dad and I arguing about?” There’d been so many around that time. A few of the reasons she let Harlan go tapped her mental calculator.

  “He was going to Washington, and neither of you wanted Aiden and me.”

  “Never. Jade, what kind of accusation is that? I was angry at him for taking the job without talking to me—he had a way of leaping before consulting— but we loved you two.” Beryl looked at Jade. Out her window, there was a patch of blue sky showing between the storm clouds. It was so low, it almost appeared even with the truck.

  “I heard both of you.” The truck surged forward as Jade pushed harder on the gas. “He said he didn’t want kids, you said it was your turn to do for yourself.”

  Beryl stared out her window, her chin resting in her hand. Fragments of the conversation replayed in her mind. “Your dad and I loved you and Aiden.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  Beryl adjusted the lap seatbelt and repositioned. Her leg was falling asleep. “Was it so bad? With me as a mother?” She was sick, dying. What the heck. Ask the hard ones.

  “Sometimes, yeah. You left us with Granny a lot, Mama. It felt like we were such an unbearable burden to you.” Jade glanced at her, then back at the road, shifting in her seat, reaching for the radio’s power knob.

  “It doesn’t work, remember?”

  “Got to get that thing fixed.”

  “You weren’t a burden . . . you kids.” Beryl ran her hand over the weave of her braid. Dr. Meadows said she’d most likely lose her hair during chemo and suggested she cut the braid before her hair thinned to nothing. “Seems I was a burden to you though. I remember you stopped having civil conversations with me. One day we were talking, the next we weren’t.”