The Sweet By and By

by Sara Evans

  “Is that how you see it?” Jade gripped her hands tightly around the wide wheel. “Just one day, boom, I stopped talking to you?”

  “Seems so.” Beryl remembered being close to Jade during her breakup with Dustin and the subsequent ordeal. Then . . .

  The cab was hot. Fog crept up the windshield. Beryl cracked open her window.

  “The defroster is busted too.”

  “Why don’t you have Max buy you a new truck?” Beryl said. The chilled air felt good on her face.

  “I’m not marrying him for his money.”

  “Did I say you were? But this old rattle trap . . . reminds me of Paps’ old junker. I’m surprised this thing runs.”

  “It runs great. Just had it in the shop, and Zach said it’ll outlive us all.”

  “Okay, Jade. Didn’t mean nothing by it. Max seems like a generous man, that’s all.” The girl wrestles. Best leave her be, let her settle.

  The truck lurched, hesitated, then fired forward. “What’s going on, Petunia?” Jade clutched and downshifted, patting the dash to the rattling of the engine. “Come on, girl, keep going. Did you hear me say what Zach said? You’ll be running long after I’m gone.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t like that, Jade.” Beryl held onto her door handle, sitting up straight.

  Petunia choked and gurgled, the motor gasping and losing power. Jade flipped on her hazards and eased onto the berm. I-24 traffic zipped past. Steam hissed out from under the hood.

  “Want me to take a look? I’ve been broken down a few times in my life.”

  “I just had her in the shop. How can this be?” Jade clicked off the engine, smacking her fist against the wheel.

  Beryl popped open her door. “All old things must die, Jade, sooner or later.”

  Twenty-five

  “Water pump’s broke.”

  “We figured.” Mama had called it. Jade angled around to read the name stitched on the man’s shirt. “Clem, how long to fix it?”

  He patted his hand over his sewn-on name, then smoothed it down over the too-large shirt. “Name’s Wayne, but my shirt got a hole in the front so I borrowed Clem’s. He’s off today, left this hanging in the washroom.”

  “You should’ve gone with the holey shirt, Wayne,” Jade said. The one he wore was covered with grease. “But anyway, the truck? How long? An hour, two, three?”

  “No, no, got to get the part in.” He walked over to the body shop’s office. “We don’t stock the part you need. This here truck is too ding-dang-dong old. An International. Ain’t seen one of these in years. Parts come up from Atlanta. In fact”—he took a skipping kind of step—“I’ll go do that right now.”

  “And awaaay we go.” Mama bent forward, hiking her left foot up to her right knee, and with a pump of her fists, skipped after Wayne.

  “What are you doing?” Jade frowned.

  “Jackie Gleason. ‘And awaaay we go.’” Mama did the move again.

  Jade raised her eyebrows, then popped the air with her fist. “‘To the moon, Alice, to the moon.’”

  Mama laughed. Then the two fell silent. Standing in opposite corners at the garage.

  “All righty, the part’s ordered,” Wayne said, finally returning. “Hope to have it Monday by ten, get it fixed. Then you gals can get back on the road. Sorry for the delay.”

  “Monday? By ten? Wayne, seriously, there’s no way you can get the part today? I’ll be happy to pay extra. Can we drive to Murfreesboro? Nashville?”

  “No can do. Part is shipped in from Atlanta. You all need a ride somewhere?

  We ain’t got much for motels and hotels here in Beechgrove. I can drive you into Murfreesboro for a hotel or you can hole up at Miss Linda’s. She’s got a nice bed-and-breakfast. Want me to get her on the horn?”

  “Yes,” Mama quickly agreed.

  “No,” Jade insisted.

  Jade and Mama faced off. “What’s wrong with Miss Linda’s?”

  “I’d rather find a hotel in Murfreesboro.” Jade turned to Wayne. “How far to the nearest hotel?”

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes. I can drive you out, but Monday I’m the only one here, so you’ll have to take a taxi.”

  “Where’s Miss Linda’s?” Mama asked.

  Wayne walked to the edge of the bay and pointed toward a fiery golden maple tree with a gingerbread cottage sitting beneath it.

  “Right there. You can walk. If she were on her stoop, I could holler a conversation with her.”

  “Jade, she’s right there.” Mama motioned. “If we go to Murfreesboro, we’ll have to eat out . . . We’ll have no way to get around. I can’t walk very far, Jade. I’m sorry.”

  “Miss Linda makes a mean pot roast and rolls.”

  The idea of a home-cooked meal certainly appealed to Jade. But a weekend in a bedroom with Mama? She sighed.

  “Get Miss Linda on the horn, Wayne.”

  Wayne whipped the portable phone from his pocket. Five minutes later Jade stood between twin beds in a room that looked like a flower garden had exploded—on the walls, on the bedcovers, in the picture frames.

  “Towels are in the closet.” Miss Linda motioned to the bathroom. “I serve snacks at ten and four except on Sunday, and then only snacks at four. Will you all be attending service with me tomorrow?”

  “Service?”

  “Church, of course.”

  “No,” Mama said, easing down to her bed by the windows.

  “I’d love to.” Jade dropped her handbag on her bed. She’d need something to break up the day. “What time?”

  “Meet me in the kitchen at ten.” Miss Linda was bright and cheerful, with sapphire eyes peering out from under permed, red-rinsed hair and brown, drawn-on eyebrows. “Dinner is at six.” The door clicked behind her.

  “Your worst nightmare, stuck in a room with me?” Mama asked.

  “Don’t be a martyr.” Sitting on her bed, Jade dug in her bag for her phone. “I’m going to ask Miss Linda if there’s a store nearby, see if I can get some toiletries, a pack of underwear.”

  “We can wash our undies in the sink.”

  “You can wash your undies in the sink.”

  Jade called Lynette, hoping she’d give grace on picking up the inventory. “Lynette, hey, it’s Jade. You’re not going to believe this, but my truck broke down. Yeah, I know. Feels like, ‘My dog ate my homework.’ No, I won’t . . . Yes, I do want the inventory . . . another buyer? Already?

  Lynette, I can’t help it my truck broke down . . . Well, send back the deposit then. Yeah . . . sure . . . I understand. Have a nice night.”

  “She’s not keeping the inventory for you?” Mama asked.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, Jade. But things always have a way of working out.”

  Sometimes. Maybe. “I’m going to give Max a call.” Jade ducked into the bathroom and eased the door shut.

  If she asked Max to drive to Beechgrove for her, he’d come. At least she thought he would. But this was his bachelor day, with the boys. How could she ruin it? It wasn’t his fault she forgot the appointment in Nashville, or that the truck broke down.

  June wouldn’t come, she had a charity event with Rebel. Margot and Daphne were having their spa day, lucky girls, and would laugh all the way to Beechgrove and back if she called them.

  Sighing, Jade stared at the bathroom door. Mama was on the other side. She’d been prepared to spend an afternoon with her, but an entire weekend? No.

  Pressing the phone’s buttons, she hesitated before finally calling Max. Maybe it would be all right to spend an extra day with Mama, discover they had something in common. Truth was, they barely knew each other.

  “Baaabe,” Max answered, very, um, exuberant. “How are you? It’s my babe, fellas, shh.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No, no, just had a taste of champagne. Having fun with my boys, right?” Their raucous cheer filled Jade’s ear.

  “Just the boys, huh?” Max’s tone and the influence of irreverent men p
inged an old feeling. The guys want to watch game film. Surely it was just a disturbance from Dustin’s abrupt visit. “No girls?” No silky-haired sisters?

  “If there’re girls, they’re the ugliest I’ve ever seen. How’re you? Did Daphne and Margot come get you?”

  “They tried, and thank you for that, by the way.” Jade touched the lacy trim of Miss Linda’s hand towels, wishing she’d let Margot and Daphne kidnap her. “I had to run to Nashville for a pickup I’d forgotten.”

  “Nashville?”

  “The truck’s water pump blew, and the mechanic has to get the part from Atlanta. Mama and I are in a bed-and-breakfast in Beechgrove.”

  “Ah, sweetie, I’m sorry. Want me to come and—”

  “No . . . no. Have fun. This is your bachelor party. If I drag you away, who knows, you might resent me twenty years from now.”

  “Never.” He laughed softly. “But I hate to see you stuck in Murfreesboro. Can’t you rent a car or truck to do what you need to do?”

  “I need a truck and by the time I rent one, go to Nashville, pick up the inventory and drive back to Whisper Hollow, return the rental and pick up my hopefully-fixed truck . . . I’ll have missed the wedding.” Sighing, Jade blinked away a wash of tears. “I’m tired, Max. With all that’s happened in the past few weeks . . . not even a gorgeous antique French sofa is worth my time right now. I just want to get married and go on our honeymoon.”

  “This time next week, Jade, this time next week. Sweetie, relax, have fun. Don’t let your mama or the situation get you down. We’ll find another antique French sofa. Ten times better than this one. In the meantime, your mama’s here, trying to make amends. A day with her won’t be so bad, will it? Shoot, the Dustin cat is out of the bag. What could be worse? Sliker . . . wait for me. No, man, no, not my woods. Jade, I need to—”

  “Go, babe.” She pictured him running after the dark, mischevious Sliker. “Have fun. I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Sliker, man, stop, you’re going to pay—”

  Jade clapped her phone shut with a weighty exhale and slouched against the toilet tank. A day with her won’t be so bad, will it?

  The afternoon light had shifted when Beryl woke from her nap. The room was eerily quiet.

  “Jade?” She rose from the bed, thirsty. Gaining her bearings, she shuffled toward the bathroom, catching herself against the bathroom door.

  Beryl hated this part of being sick. Weakness. Being submitted to the whim and will of disease, leukemia braking her life even though her will wanted to hit the gas.

  Filling a Dixie cup with water, she made her way back to bed. No TV. All right, she appreciated quiet. Beryl propped the pillows against the headboard and peeked in the bedside table drawer.

  A Stephen King novel. Good enough. She nestled into the pillows. A cigarette would taste good about now. She tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate on the tiny words on the page.

  Head against a fat foam pillow, eyes closed, her thoughts wandered. Life was a series of journeys and adventures, and her train was pulling into the station too soon.

  But she’d change nothing. How could she? Good, bad, otherwise, she had come to this moment, stranded with Jade in a flower-powered B&B.

  Prairie City, December 1996

  Mother’s rocking chair creaked when she sat down. “The snow’s sticking.”

  “We’ll have a white Christmas.” Beryl stretched her legs the length of the sofa.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on with Jade?”

  “Other than being sixteen?” Beryl smacked the throw pillow by her legs with the flat of her hand, plumping and fluffing.

  “It has to do with the Colter boy, doesn’t it?”

  “She’ll be all right, Mama.”

  “She went through two boxes of pads while you were gone.”

  “Rough month, so what?” Headlights bounced along the wall. Good, Gig and the kids were home.

  “Beryl, was she pregnant?”

  “Mother, mind your own business.” Beryl hopped off the couch, tugging her jeans straight. “I’m going to make some cocoa to drink while we put up the tree. Can you put on some Christmas music?”

  Mother rocked silently, eyes straight ahead. Beryl bent to her ear.

  “I did, we did, what was best for everyone.”

  “Really? Is that what you did?”

  Okay, if she wanted to throw down, then throw down. “Yes, Mother, that’s exactly what we did. How was she going to raise a kid with Dustin off in college having a grand time? Her friends going on to school or getting jobs, traveling. You want her stuck here with a baby on her hip, fighting with the Colters for control?”

  “How was it a choice if you gave her no choice?”

  “We did what was best for Jade, Mother.”

  “You’ve gone too far this time . . .” The woman began to shake. Her eyes narrowed and her face flared a bright red.

  The kitchen door banged. “We got a tree, we got a tree.” Willow’s excited voice came from the kitchen.

  “How do you sleep at night?” Mother’s jaw was tight with the edge in her voice.

  “Quite well, thank you.”

  Willow darted into the room, rosy cheeked and grinning, her wavy hair dotted with snow. “We got a tree, a big one.” She jumped onto her granny’s lap, stretching her arms out as far as she could. “Like this, but bigger.”

  “I love a big tree.” Mother kissed the little girl’s cold face and patted her bottom. “Go find your sister and tell her to come help us.” When Beryl returned to the living room, declaring the water was boiling, Mother grabbed her arm. “I’ve never seen Jade like this. She doesn’t eat unless I make her. All she does is school and work. Spends every night in her room studying or sleeping. Won’t even go out with Rachel.”

  “It’s hard to get over a broken heart.” Beryl pulled free.

  “And losing a baby?”

  “Mother, don’t make—”

  “And before that, having her father walk out on her, then her mother running off whenever she felt like it. Beryl, you’re so busy telling the rest of us how to live, you never stop and look at yourself, evaluate your actions, see the trail of pain you’re leaving.”

  “The kettle is about to steam. Gig, is that you and Aiden? Bring the tree in here by the front window.”

  Mother blocked Beryl’s exit, stepping in her path. “I’ve held my peace for a long time, Beryl. Harlan left. Then Mike. You hopped on the road as soon as Carlisle called, the ink on your divorce papers still wet, leaving those kids with me. I was in no shape after Paps died. I worked all the time, was barely home to feed and bathe them at night. You know why Jade won’t eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, don’t you?”

  “They were safe with you, and I knew it.”

  “Safe? Jade’s never felt safe. Didn’t you see? She never had a moment of confidence until that boy came into her life. Now he’s gone, along with the child he created with her. Once again, off you go without a word to me.” Mother pointed her long arm toward the upstairs. “She needed you, and I had no idea. Beryl, you didn’t even call her. She must have asked me two, three times a day for the first week, ‘Did Mama call?’”

  “Don’t you dare try to guilt-trip me.”

  “Mercy, no, why would I want to spoil all your fun? I’m just giving you an update on your daughter. When we did know where you were, she left a voice message with the hotel. Did you call her back? No. I heard her crying at night, and my heart crumbled into a million pieces because I didn’t know how to get invited in. I’m ashamed, Beryl.” Mother shook her head and pressed her lips tight. “Ashamed of what you’ve become. How did I raise my girl to be a mother like you?”

  “How dare you judge me.”

  “Make way, make way.” Aiden came in carrying the front half of the tree with Gig sporting the back.

  Beryl whispered hotly to her mother. “Are you finished?”

  “I pray, Beryl. I shut the door to my room and pray. �
�God, lift her soul, heal her hurt.’ If Jade survives the life you handed her, it’s because He’s good, because He loves her. Not you.”

  “Then what’s your worry? Holier-than-thou. You’ve covered all the bases. She’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, Beryl, but a broken-winged bird can still flitter away. Don’t think Jade will forget this easily.”

  Jade was back in the flowered room, loaded with Wal-Mart bags. “I guessed at your size.” She dropped a few bags at the foot of her bed and handed another to Beryl.

  “You didn’t have to do this.” She set aside the King novel, still on page five, and peered inside the bag. Toothbrush and toothpaste, a brush and comb set, a packet of underwear, a top and a pair of jeans.

  “Everyone feels better in clean clothes.” Jade gathered a couple of bags, motioning toward the bathroom. “Are you done in there? I’d like to take a bath.”

  “Go ahead.” Beryl stared at the door when she heard the click of the lock, the tiny sound trumpeting in her soul. Keep out.

  Reaching for her Dixie cup, she sipped the last bit of water, trying to think why Mother’s voice was so prominent in her thoughts. Did she dream about her when she drifted off?

  Beryl reached for the book, but Stephen King just didn’t appeal at the moment. She went to the window and peered out, brushing her hand over her forehead. Had she abandoned her children? In retrospect . . .

  Was Jade still upset about the choice they’d made? After the drive home that day, they’d never talked about it again. What was there to say? Then Jade was off to the University of Tennessee and here they were . . . eleven years later and a week from her wedding.

  Could she blame the strain between them on Dustin? His sudden reappearance sure didn’t move Jade toward Beryl with tenderness.

  Jade had called those days after the abortion. She’d left messages. A twinge of regret snapped at Beryl. Half the time she probably didn’t even get them. The motels Gig booked weren’t known for their amenities.

  But the ones Beryl did get . . . the twinge twisted tighter. She’d ignored them. Mercy, those were wild days with Gig. She was kind of relieved when he wanted to plant roots in L.A., but not with her.