After the Rain

by Karen White

  She looked back at Suzanne, small frown lines puckering her forehead. “Joe was just about crazy with grief when she died. If it hadn’t been for his kids, I think he would have just lain down beside her and passed on.”

  Placing the storage box in the middle of the table, she brightened. “I do think that Harriet would want Joe to find someone else. Not just to help him with the kids, but to be there for him. I’m glad you two have found each other.”

  Suzanne found herself violently shaking her head. “No—that’s not really the way it is. See, I’m just passing through, staying in Walton for a short time. I’m not really . . .”

  She paused and watched a quizzical expression appear on Darlene’s face as the woman took a closer look at the lid of the storage box where the album had been.

  “Well, I’ll be.” In the center of the white plastic lid lay a shiny new penny, the copper reflecting brightly in the overhead light. “How on earth did this get here?”

  “Maybe you accidentally dropped it there the last time you looked at the album.”

  Darlene looked at her with wide brown eyes, her short lashes lifted in tight curls. “But I haven’t touched the box or the album since Harriet died. And the penny is brand-new.”

  Shifting the album to one arm, Suzanne took the penny and looked at it closely. The date marked was the current year. She raised her eyebrows. “Then how . . . ?”

  Darlene clutched her hands in front of her heart. “Pennies from heaven. I’m sure of it.”

  “What?” Suzanne tried to shrug away an uneasiness that seemed to blow down her spine, almost knowing what Darlene was going to say next.

  “Pennies from heaven. When those who have gone on before us want us to know that they’re still with us. Sweetpea Crandall’s mother left a penny beneath an orange juice can in the freezer—a brand that only her mother drank and that had been in the freezer for over a year before Sweetpea had the heart to throw it out. That’s when she found the penny, and it was like her mother telling her that she was all right and that it was okay to go on with her life. And it was a brand-new, shiny penny, too.”

  Suzanne plopped the penny back on the lid, afraid to touch it. “Now, surely you don’t mean . . .”

  Darlene nodded sagely. “I do. I think Harriet’s telling you that she approves.”

  Staring at the shiny penny, Suzanne said, “Please don’t go spreading that around. Joe and I are really just friends, with no intention to ever take it further. The children—especially Sarah Frances—would be hurt to hear that kind of thing.”

  Picking up the penny, Darlene slid it into her apron pocket. “I understand.” She smiled a toothy grin. “But remember that Harriet approves. And if she thinks it should happen, it will.”

  Not wanting to continue the conversation further, Suzanne asked, “What’s in the box?”

  “Oh, just an assortment of things—old photos, die cuts, stickers, markers. Pretty much everything you’ll need to finish the album. Except the graduation pictures, of course. Those you’ll have to add later.” She popped open the lid and glanced inside. “And I’m more than happy to give you ideas on how to decorate the pages. Harriet did such a beautiful job, I’m sure the ones she already did will be a perfect example for you.”

  She closed the box and took the album from Suzanne. After placing it on top of the lid, she opened the cover slowly and Suzanne held her breath.

  The first photo was an old class picture. The sign a boy held in the front row read WALTON ELEMENTARY, MRS. CRANDALL’S FIFTH-GRADE CLASS. She peered closely at the boy, at the slicked-back hair and the defiant cowlick, and recognized Joe. She looked back at the young girl next to the boy. She wore a white dress with ankle socks and pink Keds. A matching pink headband held back yellow-blond hair, showing small pearl earrings. She smiled shyly at the camera, leaning forward slightly as if she’d just finished saying something.

  It was as if Suzanne were looking at a female version of Harry, and she knew without a doubt the girl in the picture was a young Harriet. She recognized Cassie, Sam, and Ed Farrell, though only after close consideration. They had changed a great deal since fifth grade.

  “I thought Harriet was younger than Cassie. Why are they all in the same grade?”

  Darlene leaned over her shoulder and looked at the picture. “Mrs. Madison wanted her girls to be in the same grade, so she held Cassie back from kindergarten so she and Harriet could go to school together. I don’t think they would have wanted it any other way.”

  She slid a neatly manicured nail to the back row of the picture. “This here’s their older brother, Ed Farrell. Course, we didn’t know back then that he was Judge Madison’s son. He’s two years older, but he was held back twice.”

  Peering closely at Cassie in the photo, Suzanne realized with a start that the young Cassie wore a gold chain on her neck. It was too small to see clearly in the picture, but Suzanne was sure small heart charms dangled from the chain. The chain was shorter, and there were only a few charms, but it was definitely the same hearts. Without thinking, Suzanne reached up and touched her own charm, feeling a connection suddenly to the children in the photo. It was a small thing, but the closest she would ever be to belonging with them.

  The scrapbook’s page was decorated with stickers and die cuts and labeled with neat, precise handwriting recording the history of Madison Cassandra Warner. As Suzanne turned the pages, it was as if Harriet were sitting beside her and showing Maddie’s life before Suzanne had come to know her. It was as if an unseen hand helped fit the pieces of a puzzle into the correct slots to complete a picture of the young woman she’d come to know.

  Suzanne remembered the conversation she’d had with Joe at the cemetery as he’d shown her the graves of his great-grandparents, and she realized that making an album of a child’s history was just about the same thing as identifying people in a graveyard and picking your space between them. It was the fruit of belonging, of always knowing where you came from and where there was always a place held open for you to come back. Joe, Harriet, Maddie, and everyone else she had met in Walton were grounded here in this town, like oak trees with long, deep roots. She grimaced slightly, realizing that she was more like the dandelion seed, scattered and settled at the wind’s whim, with roots no deeper than the next strong breeze.

  Her thoughts made her heart ache, and for one brief moment she pictured herself standing still long enough to grow roots. And then she let it go. Holding on to dreams had only ever led to disappointment.

  She turned the next page of the album and smiled at the black-and-white close-up of two feet: the sole of a man’s foot and on top of that a baby’s. The caption read MADDIE FOLLOWING IN DADDY’S FOOTSTEPS. The poignancy of the photo tugged again at Suzanne, and she tapped the plastic cover on the photo, guessing where Maddie’s talent for photography came from. She’d have to remember to tell that to Maddie. It would bring comfort to know that she carried a part of her mother, in the same way that not knowing what traits Suzanne had received from her own mother kept her tossing in bed at night.

  Closing the album, she looked up at Darlene. “Thank you. I’ll give you a call if I need help, but I think I have a pretty good idea what Harriet was trying to do. And I’ll take more pictures of Maddie to add, as well as ones that Maddie has taken. She’ll love it.” She stacked the album on top of the storage box.

  “I know she will. Especially knowing that both her mother and you worked on it.”

  Not really sure how to respond, Suzanne turned away and moved through the kitchen and toward the front door. As she stood on the stoop, Darlene reached into her pocket and retrieved the penny. Placing it squarely on top of the album, she said, “This is yours. Keep it in a safe place, now, you hear?”

  The penny seemed to wink at her in the bright sunlight’s glare. She wanted to refuse it but didn’t want it to seem as though she believed Darlene’s story of where it came from. She slipped the penny into the pocket of her skirt.

  “Thanks,
” she said as she readjusted the box and album. She felt as if she held a lifetime’s worth of memories, none of them hers, and more than one message from a woman who had died nearly three years before but whose presence almost seemed as palpable as the cement sidewalk under Suzanne’s feet.

  Joe turned the lawn mower around, then paused and whipped off his T-shirt. As summer moved into fall, the air was certainly cooler, but mowing Miss Lena’s lawn using her antiquated manual lawn mower was enough to kill a man.

  He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and began to push another row to the sidewalk. A quick blast from a car horn made him look up as Lucinda’s long pink car swerved into the driveway, barely missing the mailbox. Suzanne Paris sat next to Lucinda in the front seat, holding a casserole dish and wearing rhinestone sunglasses that matched the ones worn by the older woman.

  Lucinda waved. “Hey, Joe. I didn’t know it was your turn to mow Miss Lena’s lawn or I would have sent this food over with you.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out what she was up to. For the past three years, they had been on Miss Lena’s caregiving schedule together and usually gone to lunch at the Dixie Diner when Lucinda finished delivering her food offering.

  When Suzanne stepped out of the car, it became obvious. She wore an electric blue short-sleeved sweater atop a lighter blue leather miniskirt. He scanned her long legs, bracing himself for her ubiquitous flip-flops, and was surprised to find high-heeled strappy sandals. Below the rhinestone sunglasses, Suzanne frowned.

  “We’ve been shopping,” Lucinda announced proudly.

  “I can see that.” Joe tried to peel his gaze away from Suzanne, who was leaning into the backseat to retrieve something. He failed.

  Juggling a covered basket and casserole dish, Suzanne said, “I wasn’t expecting to be seen in public.”

  Lucinda turned toward her. “Now, honey, you know I said we needed to make just this one stop before I brought you home to change. How was I supposed to know somebody would be here?”

  Studiously avoiding Joe’s eyes, Lucinda gathered up a laundry basket stacked with clean and folded clothes and shut the car door with her hip. “Suzanne, just put that stuff on the porch for me to bring in. You can stay out here and chat with Joe until I’m done.”

  Suzanne walked past him, her heels clicking on the cement sidewalk. “That’s all right. I’d like to see Miss Lena.”

  Lucinda raised an eyebrow at Joe.

  Joe leaned on the handle of the lawn mower. “I think she wants to discuss Love’s Passionate Desire with Miss Lena. Miss Lena already tried with me, but I couldn’t get past the scene on horseback.” He felt a flush of satisfaction as he noticed Suzanne glancing at his bare chest and trying to pretend as if she weren’t. Not feeling at all cooperative, he slid his shirt back on and put the mower in a stopping position. “As a matter of fact, why don’t I just come on in with y’all and see if I can’t learn something new?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he followed the women inside.

  Miss Lena sat in her worn recliner, watching a movie on the Lifetime cable channel. She turned toward her visitors as they entered, and gave them a wide smile. Joe could tell she was having one of her good days by the brightness in her eyes. Using the remote to flip off the television, she slowly slid to the edge of her chair before using both arms to help her stand. “Visitors! I’ll go get everybody a glass of sweet tea.”

  Lucinda shook her head. “No, Miss Lena. You stay right here and visit while I go get some. Have you taken your medicine today?”

  Miss Lena held up her fingers in a Girl Scout salute. “Yes, I promise.”

  “Good.” Lucinda put the laundry basket down and relieved Suzanne of her burden. “I’ll be right back,” she said before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Suzanne stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, facing Miss Lena. “You have a lovely house.”

  The old woman peered closely at Suzanne. “Something scandalous won, you know. Looks like the park is getting a fall planting of panties.”

  Joe coughed. “I think you mean ‘pansies,’ Miss Lena. You know, the flowers.”

  She looked up at him with a confused expression. “I’m sure the book said ‘panties.’ He took them off of her when they were on horseback.” Reaching into the wicker basket by the side of her chair, she pulled out a well-worn book with yellowed pages and a torn cover with the large-scripted title Love’s Passionate Desire and handed it to Suzanne. “Have you read this yet? Go ahead and take it, then, and we can discuss it next time you stop by.”

  Joe looked at a startled Suzanne, her expression like that of a woman who’d just missed being hit by a speeding train. He moved to intercede, but Suzanne surprised him by speaking first.

  “Thank you, Miss Lena. I look forward to reading it and discussing it with you.” She smiled shyly. “My mother was a huge romance fan. Whenever I think of her, I always picture her with a romance book in her hand. It was the one thing in her life that truly made her happy.” She turned the book over and stared at the cover. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the mood to read about happy endings, but this looks like a good place to start.” She touched Miss Lena’s arm. “Thank you,” she said again.

  The old woman placed a hand over Suzanne’s. “It was one of your mother’s favorites.”

  Suzanne peered closely at Miss Lena for a long moment before removing her hand. “Then I know I’ll love it.” She stepped back, cradling the book close to her chest.

  Joe moved to sit on the footstool next to Miss Lena, to distract her and give Suzanne some breathing space. In the short time he’d known her, he knew how important it was to Suzanne. “Has Sam been by to see you lately? You’re looking really wonderful. I don’t think I’ve seen such a pretty pink in someone’s cheeks since Sue-Ellen Elmore on her wedding day.”

  As he chatted with Miss Lena, he kept an eye on Suzanne, who was walking around the room looking at old photos and studying the various frames hung on the wall. There was one in particular, over by the television and between the velvet-draped windows, which seemed to have captured her attention. He watched her as she studied it, her hand absently wandering to her necklace with the single gold heart charm. It no longer startled him to see it, and even now all he could think of as he watched her fingertips brush it was the way it had looked on her bare skin in the moonlight.

  He turned around to find that Miss Lena was watching Suzanne, too. “That’s from Little Women. That was my favorite book in the world until I discovered sex.”

  Startled, he and Suzanne swung around to look at the demure elderly woman sitting with a pink sweater on her shoulders and her hands folded in her lap. Joe made a mental note to ask Sam about limiting Miss Lena’s time watching cable television.

  He stood and moved next to Suzanne, peering over her shoulder at the cross-stitch framed on the wall. Within a thick border of flowers were the words “Into each life some rain must fall.” The initials in the corner were the same as the ones on the cross-stitch in baby Harry’s room—E.L. Miss Lena had given it to Harriet when Maddie was born, and it had hung in each child’s room when they were babies. Only recently, Maddie had asked if she could take it with her to hang in her dorm room when she went away to school. It comforted him knowing that she wanted to take a piece of her childhood away with her, but it also left him hollow and aching, and wishing his oldest child weren’t in such a rush to leave home.

  Suzanne reached up to touch the glass, where the initials were stitched. “Who’s E.L.?”

  Joe looked surprised. “Miss Lena. Her first name is actually Eulene, but nobody’s ever called her that.”

  Her hand closed over the gold heart around her neck again, and she knitted her brows together. Slowly she turned and walked toward Miss Lena, sitting down on the footstool vacated by Joe.

  “My mother used to say that to me all the time. I guess she loved Little Women, too.”

  “She did. I gave her my copy to read.” A shadow seemed
to pass behind her eyes as the elderly woman turned to Joe. “Are you Sam? Why is Sam here?” Her gnarled fingers agitated the pink sleeves of the sweater that rested on her shoulders.

  Lucinda came from the kitchen then with a tray filled with an iced-tea pitcher and three glasses. As Lucinda set the tray down on the coffee table, Joe moved next to Miss Lena. “I’m Joe Warner, Mildred and Joe Senior’s boy. You taught me in Sunday school when I was in second grade, and you always gave me a toffee for memorizing Bible verses.” He smiled and took her hand. “I think I was your favorite student.”

  Miss Lena gazed up at him, her expression mixed. He wasn’t sure if she understood, and decided to give her a few moments to let it sink in. He retrieved filled glasses of sweet tea for Suzanne and Miss Lena and brought them back to where they sat. As he turned to get himself a glass, the old woman said, “I know you. You’re Harriet Madison’s husband. I remember now.”

  He glanced back in time to see the stricken look on Suzanne’s face before Miss Lena continued. “Now, who’s this beautiful girl? Are you single, honey? Because if you are, I know the perfect man for you.”

  Joe concentrated on holding his glass still as he raised it to his lips and listened to the ice cubes clink against each other.

  Suzanne cleared her throat. “I’ve met Ed, Miss Lena. He seems like a real nice guy, but I’m not exactly in the market. . . .”

  Miss Lena shook her head. “No, that’s not who I was talking about. We have a nice gentleman in town who’s lost his wife. He thinks he’s fine on his own, but he’s really not. And he probably hasn’t had any sex since she died.”

  Joe struggled to keep a hold of his own glass as he watched Suzanne turn a deep shade of red. She took a deep swallow of the tea and choked. Joe quickly handed her a napkin as she sputtered.