“Garrett?”
He turned to look at me. His eyes were misty.
“Garrett, I forgive you. I did a long time ago.” I felt my throat tightening. “Thank you for saying what you did just now.”
He nodded and attempted a conciliatory expression. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you when your mom passed away. I wanted to. I wish I had.”
“Thank you.”
“My mom said she saw you there, at the memorial service. I wish I had gone. Your mother was a very special person. She was always so nice to me.”
I managed to nod. I was going to echo that indeed she was a very special person and she had been very nice to him, but the words stuck in my throat.
“Well, I guess…” He looked lost.
A bit of my mother’s kindness and hospitable spirit seemed to override my emotional reaction to the last ten minutes. “We should probably go back inside.”
“I’m going to stay here,” he said.
“Okay.” I didn’t look back as I opened the door and slid into the back corner of the studio. I stood for the remainder of the class and opened my arms wide when Eden dashed to hug me and receive her accolades.
Violet was right behind her, looking around for her father. I was grateful that Garrett appeared instantly, scooped up Violet, and exited before Eden realized her friend was gone. I kept the praises going and pressed to hurry home so she could tell her daddy all about her lesson.
“And show him,” Eden said once I had her strapped in her car seat, pink tulle sticking out in every direction. “I want to show him my dance.”
“He will love it,” I promised.
“And the pom-poms. I want to show Alex the pom-poms. But he can’t eat them.”
“That’s right. Alex may not eat the pom-poms.”
Joel met us at the door and smiled at Eden, asking her about class. As she jabbered, he shot me a repentant glance. I knew it was his way of apologizing for the tension right before I left.
I gave him a close-lipped smile. It was the best I could muster and seemed to be enough to settle our earlier tussle and get us moving on with dinner, baths, and bedtime. I somehow had managed to stuff down all the emotions that had raced through me during the Garrett encounter. I knew I would tell Joel about it eventually. But not tonight.
Tonight would be all about settling the plans for our Hawaii trip. At least that’s what I thought. Joel didn’t bring it up. Instead, we talked about which car had the most gas so he would know which one to take to work in the morning. Then he asked if I could get him some toothpaste for sensitive teeth because he didn’t like the kind we had. He said that once he finished training Vincent, he was going to make an appointment to see the dentist. And get a haircut.
We went to bed with our backs turned to each other, and as usual, Joel had no trouble falling asleep.
Sleep seemed to be standing over me but refusing to cover me. I curled inward, pulling the comforter up to my chin. It felt as if my whole being had crawled into a memory-padded cave where it was dark and lonely. So lonely.
I reviewed the events of that evening and lingered in the cave as I thought about how Garrett had apologized with such sincerity. That would have made my mother happy. She would have told Garrett that she was proud of him. I could see her smiling at him.
Oh, Garrett. What might have happened if you had found your humility all those years ago? Would you and I have gotten back together?
I brushed the thought aside. Everyone knows the futility of pondering too many what-ifs. I thought of how Christy had referred to them one time as “the Land of If Only.” Perhaps my melancholy cave was a hidden entrance to the Land of If Only.
What felt confusing, as I stayed in a tucked position under the covers, was that I knew my real life was outside, waiting in suspension while I tried to feel my way through the cave. I could leave. I could walk out into the light at any time and go back to being me. Jennalyn. Wife, mother, friend. Artist.
But I didn’t want to leave this strange place that had opened to me. I wanted to stay in the deep quietness, staring into the darkness, because for the first time in many years, I could see shimmering memories of my mom floating around me. She was there. Garrett was there. His voice, so familiar and echoing afresh in my ears, bounced off the walls.
The odd thing was that his voice, the reality of his presence in my current life, brought a dimension of vividness to all the images of my mother. I felt closer to her than I had in years. And it seemed to be because of Garrett and the way time had folded inward when I saw him.
Over the next few days, I moved around in my real life with a placid rhythm that must have masqueraded as contentment because Joel gave no indication that he saw any changes in me.
At night, however, I returned to the cave. Each time I did, the dark space became more familiar. The memories etched on the walls like petroglyphs linked to more memories until both my mother and Garrett were there, together, in my thoughts and in my dreams. And it brought me comfort.
Joel’s long hours, our choppy communication, and his seeming disengagement with anything connected to my feelings made it easy for me to stay sequestered in my melancholy cave where I found it easy to hide. The week slid by without my telling him about seeing Garrett. We didn’t talk about Hawaii either. His goal was to get his new chef ready to run the Blue Ginger, and I told myself I was supporting him and helping him reach his goal by not bringing up anything that might sidetrack that objective.
On Friday morning before Joel left for the restaurant, he said, “Today’s the last day of training with Vincent. I plan to be home all weekend. Why don’t we do something?”
“Like what?”
Joel shrugged. “I don’t know. Something fun. A family outing. You pick. We can do whatever you want.”
He closed the front door behind him, and I stood with my feet planted in the entryway, swaying Alex on my hip. Our chunky thirteen-month-old son was teething, and I was pretty sure it was his first molar, based on the amount of gnawing, drooling, and fussing. A runny nose had been added to Alex’s symptoms that morning, and all he wanted was to be held. The shoulder of my shirt was soggy, and my lower back ached.
“Whatever I want.” I repeated Joel’s line and looked at Alex. “Your daddy drives me crazy sometimes. Did you know that?”
“Why?” Eden asked. I didn’t realize she had padded down the stairs.
I quickly changed the subject. “Let’s get you dressed. What do you want to wear today, Eden?”
“I wanna wear my rain boots.”
“It’s not raining.”
She thought a moment, looking adorable in the princess-style nightgown GiGi had given her for Christmas. “I’ll wear my bathing suit.”
“It’s not summer yet, sweetheart. How about a pair of pants and a long-sleeve T-shirt?”
“My kangaroo shirt?”
“Kangaroo shirt? Eden, you don’t have a kangaroo shirt.”
The news seemed to shock her, but her four-year-old logic took over. “I need one.” She burst into tears. “Please, Mommy. I need one.”
Alex joined in the outburst. I herded Eden upstairs, still jostling Alex on my hip. I knew what kind of day this was going to be. I wondered how Joel would respond if I told him my idea of picking “whatever I want” for the weekend was to close my bedroom door and sleep for two days without a single interruption. He could be the one who tried to make a kangaroo shirt hop into Eden’s closet, appearing out of thin air.
The morning was as bumpy as I anticipated. But that afternoon, to my surprise, both kids ended up napping at the same time. I had a feeling they were both coming down with colds, which explained their willingness to go to bed. If they were getting sick, it would certainly alter any possible “fun” plans for the weekend.
Once the house was quiet, I seized the oppor
tunity to do something that had been on my mind since Monday. I pulled a large plastic bin out of the garage and hauled it next to the sofa in the family room.
Inside was a collection of memorabilia I had placed there a lifetime ago. I found a photo of my mother I had forgotten about. She was standing next to my camera-shy dad, and she was leaning close to sniff a fully opened rose. The rose was deep red, like her favorite Oh My, Cherry Pie nail polish. Her eyes were closed as she drank in the fragrance.
She loved life. She appreciated everything. Oh, Mom, you were a lovely, lovely woman.
I studied her profile for a long time and then tried to read the expression on my dad’s face as he watched her. I think my mom was always a mystery to him. A puzzle he didn’t try to solve too quickly but rather left all the pieces where they had landed and studied them individually before trying to connect any of them with a matching piece.
His way with people was very much like his pastime of sitting for hours at our old folding card table, contentedly working on a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. He always chose puzzles of landscapes and idyllic scenery. Never anything with people, buildings, or animals. He would sit for a long time without moving any pieces, as if he merely wanted to take in the vista and gaze at the horizon.
It wasn’t that much of a surprise after my mom’s death when he chose to move from crowded Orange County, California, to Whitefish, Montana. He had lived within the same two-mile radius his entire life. The lure of having his own attached cottage at my brother’s home in Big Sky Country seemed to soften the great loss of the love of his life. He handled everything quietly and efficiently, which was always his way. Never in a rush.
The night before he left, he came over for dinner, and Joel made all his favorites. My dad gave Eden a stuffed puppy with floppy ears. When he kissed us all, he handed me an envelope. It was a check for more than half the profit he received when he sold his house with the rare quarter-acre backyard. His only wish, his handwritten note said, was that we would consider using the money to purchase our own family homestead.
We followed his example and took our time until we found this house. We paid cash and had enough left over to make a small investment. The investment doubled in the first year, and that became the money we used to buy the Lexus. I knew he was pleased with our decision.
I put aside the photo of my parents and continued to sift through the bin. I found a half-dozen of my old artist sketch pads, a shoebox full of my early attempts at handmade watercolor birthday cards, and a ribbon I was awarded for winning an art contest in eighth grade.
I dug deeper through old souvenirs, more photos, and our wedding guest book. I hoped that what I was looking for was in this bin and not any of the containers that had been wedged onto the garage storage shelf that required a ladder to reach.
When I came to the bottom of the bin, I was disappointed to see that my yearbook wasn’t there. Just then my phone chimed, and I saw that I had a call coming in from Christy.
“Hi. Did I catch you in the middle of something?” she asked.
“Not really. I was just…looking for something.” I wasn’t ready to admit to anyone that I was on a hunt for my high school yearbook since it contained the only pictures I had of Garrett. Everything else associated with him had been destroyed in a memorable ceremony with my mother.
I flashed back to the day when my mom and I watched the movie Emma. A few months had passed since Garrett exited my life. When Jane Austen’s character, Harriet, finally destroyed all her mementos of Mr. Elton, my mother looked at me with an impish grin. Our little firepit ceremony at the beach that night was one of my favorite moments with her and made us closer than ever.
That was the night my mother taught me the valuable lesson of forgiveness and how to be free. I released everything to the Lord that night, and I know that’s why my heart was open and ready to fall in love with Joel when he came along.
“Jennalyn?” Christy’s voice brought me back to the present.
“Yes, sorry. What’s up?”
“I just said I’m taking my kids to the park. Do you want to meet us there?”
“They’re both sleeping. I have a feeling they’re coming down with colds.”
“We’re recovering from colds around here. That’s why we need to get out of the house. I hope yours don’t develop a cough. Todd is finally just past the coughing stage. He sounded like a barking seal for almost a week.”
“That’s awful. I didn’t know you guys had been sick.”
“The kids had runny noses and were sneezing for about three days. It wasn’t bad. If that’s what your kids have, hopefully it won’t last long. I somehow managed to dodge the germs.”
I glanced at the monitor and saw that Alex was standing up in his crib. The sound was off, but I could hear him crying upstairs.
“Alex is up. I should go.”
“Okay. Let’s talk soon. I want to hear what’s been happening with you. I hope the kids aren’t sick, but if they are, please let me know if you need anything. I’ve had a lot of practice making chicken soup this week.”
“Thanks, Christy.”
“Love you, Jennalyn.”
“Love you, too, Christy.” My throat tightened as I hung up.
I had a friend who cared about me—loved me—reached out to me. That realization settled on me as both comforting and disturbing. I had begun to retreat to my cave whenever I could because I believed I was all alone. The two familiar specters that haunted me in the secrecy of that cave somehow felt like enough companionship for now.
I realized that if I let Christy or Joel or anyone else into my hidden world, I was afraid the closeness of my mother’s memory would vanish, and I would never be able to summon her back. For now, I wanted the cave with its unlikely residents to remain just as it was, with no intruders into my private world.
I don’t think what I’m feeling is normal.
My phone buzzed again. Someone had left a message. I thought I’d turned off my notifications since I was so rarely on my social media pages anymore. I tapped the screen as I headed upstairs to Alex. The message was from GAREBEAR.
I stopped midway up the stairs.
The stupid nickname I gave him at Lake Tahoe. He remembered it.
I swiped his name without reading the message and was about to tap delete. A what-if thought made me pause.
What if he knows something about the girls’ dance class that I don’t know? What if this is the only way he could alert me?
Alex’s cries prompted me to keep walking toward his room. I paused at the nursery door, phone in hand.
If I accept his message, I don’t have to read it. He won’t know if I opened it or not. It will just be sitting there in case I ever want to see what it says. Then I can delete it.
Pressing my lips together, I placed my finger over the screen and drew in a deep breath.
Chapter 7
A week later, at about the same time on Friday afternoon, Christy called again and asked how everyone was feeling. She and I had exchanged a few texts during the week while our home was on lockdown, with the cold and flu bug tormenting everyone but me.
I had stepped out on the back deck to talk to her because the late afternoon felt surprisingly warm for the first week of February. Joel was watching TV with Eden, and Alex was still napping. I brushed the leaves off one of the loungers and stretched out on the padded chaise. The fresh air and change of position felt good.
“I’m glad you didn’t get sick,” Christy said. “How did you and I both manage to avoid the bug when everyone else in our families got it?”
“I have no idea, but I’m so grateful. It hit Joel hard. He missed four days of work and pretty much slept through two of them. His new chef, Vincent, saved the day. It’s a good thing he was trained and ready to take over.”
“Do you guys feel ready to make a final d
ecision about the marriage conference?” Christy asked.
“I didn’t tell you. Joel registered us and booked our flights.”
“So you’re going!”
“I guess so.” I leaned my head back and took in the view of the pale blue sky. A sheer layer of vaporous clouds stretched across the sky like a veil.
“You don’t sound very excited,” Christy said.
Even though the sliding door was closed, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Joel couldn’t hear me from inside. “It’s just that we didn’t really talk about it. He moved ahead and decided for both of us. I guess that proves how much we need this conference. Our communication has been awful. Now that he’s feeling better, I hope we’ll have a chance to talk about it and both get on the same page.”
“I think we’re the opposite of you guys,” Christy said. “All we’ve done is talk about it. We’ve over-communicated. For us, that can be as frustrating as what you and Joel are going through.”
Christy added, “Todd is planning to take students on another outreach trip to Nairobi in June, so that means more time that he won’t be home with the kids. Plus, those trips always turn out to be expensive.”
The sliding door opened, and Joel appeared, holding Alex, who looked sleepy but was already wiggling to get out of Joel’s arms.
“You want him out here with you?” Joel asked.
“Sure,” I told Joel. To Christy, I said, “Hey, I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I almost forgot to tell you. I can drive all of us to Tess’s, if you want. I thought it would be fun to take Gussie.”
“Yes! I love it. Pick me up at seven.”
I hung up and looked at Joel, grinning. “Christy’s driving us to Tess’s. In Gussie.”
I wasn’t sure he would put together all the pieces of what I had just said or if he knew I had always wanted to go somewhere in Todd and Christy’s VW van. It didn’t matter. He eagerly deposited our squirming baby tank on my lap and said, “I’m going to call China Palace for dinner. What would you like?”
Being Known Page 6