by Sara Evans
“Pity isn’t your shade, Jade. The first step to healing is being honest with yourself. You made the decision to go.”
“He walked out on me, Aiden. He chose wrestling over me. Why are you being so mean?” Jade fired the phone across the garage, rage careening through the canyon of her soul.
Jade bolted awake, gasping, her hair clinging to the side of her face and neck. She exhaled in short puffs. Where was she?
The garage. Wayne. Right. The cab of her truck. She crawled out, her eyes burning, her muscles without power. Did someone get the license plate of the Mack truck that hit her?
The cold air of the garage chilled her warm skin. Shivering, Jade zipped up her jacket as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. If she had the truck keys, she’d turn on the headlights. But she’d given them to Wayne, and the office door was locked.
She needed to find her far-flung phone. Getting on her hands and knees, Jade searched the grimy floor by the soft illumination from a distant street lamp. She moaned when her hand landed in an oil slick. Ah, her phone. In the back right corner.
Checking to see if it still worked—it did—Jade exited Wayne’s shop by the back door and stepped into a solemn, hushed night.
Two a.m. How many nights had she been awake in the early morning hours, wrestling with the ghosts of condemnation and fear?
The cold pushed her into a jog toward Miss Linda’s, and Jade’s conversation with Aiden came alive in her mind. He’d blamed her. All the years Mama ran off, having a fun ol’ time, neglecting her responsibilities, and he had the nerve to indicate Jade was the one responsible for their estrangement, for the drive to the clinic, for her own pain?
Her brother was crazy. Did he not see the picture she’d painted? Baby, abortion, no choice.
Pausing outside Miss Linda’s gate, Jade called Max again. Still no answer. He always had his phone with him, on, charged up, ready to go. Her heart thumped with the idea that something might be wrong. His back? Who knows what those overgrown frat boys had talked him into doing?
Lifting the gate latch, Jade followed the walkway around to Miss Linda’s back patio. She gently tried the sliding glass door, but it wouldn’t budge.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, Jade curled up on the bench swing, laying back so her head rested on the swing’s arm between the chains.
She couldn’t blame herself for that day. No. Not. Her. Fault. Mama made the appointment, and—
Jade shot upright, catching the ends of her hair in the chain’s links.
Besides, she alone was her heart’s final port of call. A haven when all else failed. When safe places turned off their cell phones. When safe places ran off with musicians. When safe places moved to Washington, D.C., and never looked back. When safe places chose a sport where men wrestle men instead of loving her.
Anxiety bullied her sanity and reason. Jade absently set the swing into motion, back-and-forth, higher and higher, her fingers gripping the varnished seat slats. The chains creaked and moaned as they wore against a heavy, gray beam.
A nightingale sang. Jade gripped her medallion as her heart rhythm increased. A heavy, almost liquid breeze blew past her. Goosebumps tightened the skin on her scalp and down her arms.
“Hello?” She slid off the swing, anticipation burning in her chest. This was it. She was finally going crazy. “Who’s there?”
The wind gusted again with a distinct, other-worldly chill. Jade dropped back onto the swing as if it made her untouchable and safe. Her eyes darted around the porch as she strained to hear.
“Who’s there?” Her skin prickled. If someone answered . . . This was crazy. She was alone, completely alone. There was no one here.
Me.
She swallowed. “Okay, what if I did decide? What if it was what I wanted? Not to have Dustin’s baby. Not to be humiliated for nine months. Not to raise a child alone.”
The wind gusted again, against only her face. Not even the ends of her hair moved. Adrenaline pumped her pulse, and she wanted to run.
“Is that what you want me to say? I did it. I got in the truck and went to the clinic.”
Bile burned the base of her throat and hot tears warmed her cheeks. How could she stand before the court of heaven and testify against herself?
If possible, the air thickened even more, and Jade labored for each breath, feeling as if she might jump out of her skin. The force inside her churned, warring with the power outside, the one in the wind. Jade fired off the swing’s seat, stumbling into the yard weak-kneed. The swirling air, alive with energy, followed. A suffocating scream swelled in her torso.
Let go, Jade. Come to Me.
Under the moon’s milky eye, Jade spread her trembling arms wide and screamed, thumping her chest. “I chose . . . me.” Thump. “I got in the truck and went with Mama. I chose me over my child. I did it.”
Dropping to her knees, she sobbed, covering her face with her arms. “Forgive me.”
The Wind snapped, but instead of a distinct chill, a searing heat formed in the bottom of Jade’s feet and crawled up her legs, into her chest, down her arms—hotter, hotter—creeping up her neck, burning along her cheeks to the crown of her head. The Wind had become Fire.
Purifying fire.
“Oh God, oh God, please, I’m sorry, so sorry.” Jade drummed out her confession.
Intense and gripping heat engulfed her, and every pore of her burned. She couldn’t move or cry out.
Then, as quickly as it came, the heat vanished, leaving a cool river of peace.
Jade mentally walked through the memory of that day at the clinic, seeing herself on the table, and anticipated the throb of decade-old shame and hurt. Instead, she felt free of her sadness and grief.
For the first time in thirteen years, Jade wept for her child.
I was always with you.
Closing her eyes, Jade felt the hand of Jesus as she drifted along the current of a sapphire-blue day with cotton-candy clouds and lemon-drop sunbeams.
She was finally free.
“Isn’t this a pickle?”
Jade bolted upright, banging her head on the swing chains—again—and surveyed the porch in the bright white of a new day.
“I suppose you’ll want a refund for sleeping on the back porch?”
“Miss Linda, hello.” Jade rubbed the spot on her head where she’d lost a clump of hair to the swing’s chain, eyeing the caught dark strands billowing in the early morning breeze.
“Good morning. Did your bed have bugs?” Miss Linda was perky and dressed for church.
“No, well, maybe . . .” Jade raked back her hair, waiting for the familiar dull ache to remind her last night was a freakish, emotional moment. Did she dream it all? But there was no twinge. She felt light, as if she was floating. “Is Mama still asleep?”
“The bedroom door is closed. Goodness, girl, didn’t you freeze?”
“I was surprisingly warm.” Jade ran her hand along the base of her neck where His fire had burned.
Miss Linda perched on the edge of the swing. “He comes here often. Never understood why. I just learned to appreciate it.”
“Who comes here?” Jade jumped from the swing, jostling Miss Linda so she had to hang on.
“Jesus, the Spirit. In a wind, most often. Oh, the peace I’ve experienced out here. It was so pure and deep, I never wanted to move from my chair.”
“I was out walking, and when I came back, the door was locked.” Jade snapped a dangling, dead violet off the plant sitting on a plastic stand.
“He brought you here, Jade. He’s been wanting to meet with you for a good long while.”
Jade fixed her gaze on Miss Linda. “Why would He want to meet with me?”
“He loves you. It’s why most people come here. Jesus and Wayne bring them around. I can see in your eyes that He’s been with you. The pain is—”
“Does He forgive me too?” Jade smashed the dried bloom in her hand, letting the crumbled pieces fall to the floor. It was strange to breathe withou
t that familiar catch in her lungs.
“Jade, if you sacrificed your life, gave everything you valued and loved to redeem another, wouldn’t you forgive them just about anything if they asked?”
“Is that what Jesus did for me?”
“You, me, and all those who believe.” Miss Linda made a gentle humming sound.
For Jade, last night was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her broken-down truck had driven her to a place of healing.
“Well.” Miss Linda clapped her hands against her legs and stood. “Breakfast will be in an hour. You still plan to join me for church?”
Jade’s gaze met hers. “I think I’d like to stay here on the porch for a while.”
“Can’t say as I blame you.” Miss Linda smiled, waving her finger in the air. “Let Jesus put His seal on what He started.”
In the pink-and-gray light of the flower-power room, Mama slept. Her form was barely visible under a mound of blankets. Jade peeled off her coat and stepped out of her shoes.
“Mama?” Jade gently touched her arm and smoothed her hair away from her face.
“Jade?” Mama stirred but couldn’t open her eyes. “I’m so cold.”
“Cold? It’s an oven in here.” Jade pressed her cheek to Mama’s. Her lips were pale, and she was shivering.
“W-where were you? Are you-you all right? I’m s-s-so sorry, Jade—”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Jade slipped underneath the blankets, molding her body against Mama’s, rubbing her hands along her thin arms. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
Compassion bloomed in the ravine of Jade’s heart where thorns once grew.
“I’ve b-b-been thinking, Jade. You’re right, I-I-I wasn’t there—”
“Mama, it’s okay. I did choose to go with you. I’ve been mad at myself but blaming you. I’m sorry, Mama. Now, let’s get you warm. Later, I’ll tell you all about my night.”
“Was it good?”
“Strange, but good.” Jade nestled closer, memorizing the scent of Mama’s skin, wondering how to describe an encounter with the Divine.
“Nehru jacket.”
“What?”
“N-Nehru jacket.” She shivered. “I have one in the attic. An original. In-in great shape. For your shop.”
“My shop? For me, shoot.”
The encounter with Jesus didn’t remove all of Jade’s obstacles. Liking Mama might not happen overnight, but being free compelled her to love. And that had to be a real fine place to start.
Twenty-eight
Monday evening, when Jade and Mama pulled into the Blue Umbrella’s alley, the truck bed loaded with items for the store—turns out Mama was an excellent antiquer—Max was waiting for her.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Max wrapped his arms around her, his kiss hot on her lips. “Evening, Beryl.”
“Max.” Mama hugged Jade, then brushed her hand over her hair. “I’m going to get on over to the Magnolia Tree, see what Willow is up to, and take a nap.”
“See you tomorrow, Mama. And . . . thank you.”
“Thank . . . you, Jade-o.”
Unhooking the tailgate, Jade gazed at Max, Mama’s taillights flashing red over his face. “Where have you been, cowboy? I tried to call you a hundred times.”
“Babe, I’m so sorry. The guys took my phone.”
“I see you had a mature, responsible weekend then.” She lifted the Dutch boy and girl porcelain set. “I thought something might have happened to you. But June hadn’t called, so I didn’t panic.”
He moaned, rubbing his hand over his head. “I told them, but they never listen. They like to play keep-away . . . the bachelor from his fiancée.” Max tried to draw her to him again.
“Want to help unload? Hey, Roscoe, buddy.” Jade bent to touch her nose to his. “Lillabeth, my hero, thank you for covering the shop all weekend. Are you getting closer to that eight hundred?”
“Well, if you give me a raise—” She hugged Jade and reached inside the truck bed. “I should get extra pay for dealing with your anxious fiancé. He’s been hanging around all day waiting for you. I almost had to put him to work.”
“You should’ve.” Jade glanced at Max. A weekend-old beard darkened his jaw, deepening the shadows under his eyes.
“I tried to call you, Jade. All day.” He unloaded a box of frameless paintings from the truck.
“Irritating, isn’t it.” Roscoe led the way inside. “My phone battery died. Lilla, put that stuff over there. Max, bring the paintings into the office.”
It was good to be home. Jade dropped her bag on top of the lime green stickies and collapsed in her chair. Max leaned against the edge of the desk, stiff and distracted.
“Vegas,” he blurted. “They hijacked me to Vegas.”
“Vegas? The bachelor party went to Vegas?”
“They blindfolded me, took my wallet and phone. Burl has a plane, so . . .” Max swooped his hand toward the ceiling. “Off we went. Bunch of goofballs.”
Jade regarded him a moment. His countenance seemed sad. Low. “It’s okay, Max.”
“Is ‘What happened in Vegas stays in Vegas’ pertinent here?” he asked.
“What happened in Vegas?” Her middle knotted. Don’t do this to me, Max.
“Relax, Jade.” He smiled. “Nothing, I’m just teasing. The only thing that happened in Vegas was I lost a bunch of money.”
“How much?” Tension eased out with her next exhale.
“Let’s just say we’ll need to keep the money from the dinner party.”
“Max, that’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me, I know.” He started to pace. “Once you start at the tables, it’s almost impossible to quit. Of course, it didn’t help that the guys were tossing money down on my behalf.”
“You need new friends.”
Roscoe trotted in, burying his head between Max’s knees, giving him a Roscoe hug. “Hey, old boy. Did you miss me?”
Lillabeth ran a continuous shop update, helping Jade and Max unload the rest of the truck. “We were swamped until closing on Saturday, then when I opened yesterday, there were people waiting.”
“Tell you what, take anything you want from the ’70s rack, on me.”
“Now you’re talking. Thanks, Jade.”
Letting Lillabeth close up, Jade ordered pizza and climbed up to the loft with Max. “I need to tell you something. More gunk from my past.”
“R-really. What happened with letting the past be the past?”
“I met Jesus, Max.”
“What do you mean you met Jesus? Was He hitchhiking?” He closed the door behind him, yuk-yukking, his humor fading when he peered at Jade.
“Max, when Dustin walked out on me, I was pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” The word hung in the air between them.
“I didn’t know until after he’d walked out.”
“Okay, what happened to the baby?”
She expected to see his jaw tighten, but it didn’t. Jade thumped her palms against her thighs. “Well, I’m not proud of this, but Mama took me to a clinic . . . I-I went to a clinic. In Des Moines.” She collapsed on the couch. Wasn’t the week before a girl’s wedding supposed to be stressed with wedding preparations, not heart-wrenching confessions?
“Oh.” Max sat on the couch and brushed her bangs aside with the tip of his finger. “Wow. I’m sorry, Jade.”
“Max, look, I thought a lot about this on the drive home. I’ve told you a lot of lies. If you don’t want to marry—”
“Wait, Jade, please don’t.” His tone was tender. “I wasn’t expecting this news, but it doesn’t change how I feel. Nothing can change how I feel. I love you. Just . . . are there any more surprises?”
She slipped her hand into his. “Last one, absolutely, I promise. Well, from my past anyway.”
“Look, Jade, the past can still be the past. In fact, we can start clean, right now, today. Five minutes ago, yesterday, last week—ancient history.”
“I need to tell you, t
o finish the story, because this is where Jesus comes in.”
“Then tell me.”
On the Bensons’ enclosed patio, overlooking the fading gold-and-red valley, Jade sipped fresh-squeezed lemonade from a Baccarat crystal glass and reviewed the final wedding preparations.
She read the list the wedding planner, Betsy, handed her, but without focus. The first time Max came to her loft for dinner, she served him sweet tea in a mason jar, and he said it was the sweetest tea he’d ever tasted.
“Jade, I heard you were stranded with your mama in Beechgrove.” Betsy tapped on her iPhone, sticking out her tongue. “If that was me and my mom, someone would’ve died.”
June regarded Jade. “You don’t seem any worse for the wear.”
“I took your advice.” Jade sipped her lemonade.
“Really?” June squared her shoulders, smiling. “You let go of the issue with your mother?”
“Yes, by letting go of an issue with me.” She wasn’t all the way there yet, but the train was on the tracks. All aboard.
Who knew sending a ruby red invitation to Beryl Hill would result in her redemption and freedom? Jade Freedom Fitzgerald.
“We should have Max confirm the honeymoon details, flight, reservations.” Betsy’s fingers flew over her iPhone keypad. “Max . . . confirm . . . hon-ey-moon . . .”
“Bridesmaids’ gifts, Jade. Done?”
“Antique jewel boxes.”
“Check.” General Betsy. “The quartet for the wedding is confirmed, but we need to confirm with the reception band. They’re coming over from Nashville, which makes me nervous. I’ve had bands not show before.” Betsy started another text. “I’ll have my assistant confirm.”
“Final head count, two-ninety.” Betsy slid Jade the final list of names. “Your sister asked to invite a few of her friends.”
Jade reviewed the handwritten names, smiling. Willow. That girl.
Betsy moved on to bridesmaids’ and groomsmen’s arrival times, confirming rooms at the Magnolia Tree. June assured her the rehearsal dinner was all set at the club, with a local bluegrass band for entertainment.
“Jade, have you thought about your gift for Max?” Betsy jammed a baby carrot in her mouth.