One Perfect Day

by Lauraine Snelling

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Nora

  An empty house is a lonely place. Especially a house where drama had erupted moments before.

  Nora set her coffee cup in the sink. It was the fourth day into the new year of “Living After Charlie.” Arnold had once more escaped from his cage. Nora had shouted at Christi to contain the reptile, Christi had rudely told her to chill out. Gordon, caught between his two women, had waited to take Christi to school on his way to work. He was probably afraid what they’d do to each other in the car.

  After her daughter’s outburst, as was the norm now, came the faultfinding for Christi’s school problems—and anything else she could think of—as though it were Nora’s fault that Christi’s twin would not be graduating with her in the spring. Then the silent treatment and acting as though her mother did not exist.

  Nora could not deal with reptiles any longer. Betsy padded beside her as she made her way upstairs, steeling herself to open Charlie’s door, to pack up the critters. Continued hints that the reptiles were better off elsewhere had glanced off Christi’s rapidly hardening armor. Nevertheless, today, Nora would pack up the creatures and call Mr. Morency at the high school. He’d offered to find homes for them. She picked up the scrap of paper with the phone number and shoved it into her sweatpants’ pocket.

  Pausing at the closed door to Charlie’s room, she reviewed the steps: pack, call, finish. But when even the thought of turning the doorknob brought the dreaded burning to eyes and throat, she passed on and entered the master bedroom. She would call first, then deal with packing them up. The bed yawned its persistent invitation.

  “No, you have to adopt out reptiles, actually accomplish something today.” She’d thought to write in her journal, ordered herself to do so, but had passed it up again. The ringing phone brought her across the room to sit down on the bed and answer it. At the sound of Susan’s voice, she flopped backward, phone to her ear.

  “You want to see if you can kill me off on another trek around the lake?”

  “Not really.”

  “What are you doing?”

  She felt the paper crinkle in her pocket. “Nothing much. I have to make a phone call.” I have to go in Charlie’s room.

  “Then what?”

  How did she know? She wasn’t sure she was going to get through the reptile thing. But she answered as positively as she could. “Going to strip the bed, do laundry and someone needs to go to the grocery store.”

  “Call in your order and have them deliver.”

  Nora made a noise somewhere between a snort and an assent.

  “There’s a storm coming in by tonight, so this might be the last time we can go for a while.”

  Nora shut her eyes, wishing she hadn’t answered the phone after all. “Thanks, but I just don’t want to go out today—at all.” Tears seeped closer to the surface. “I gotta go.” She set the phone in the charger and crawled under the covers, suddenly so cold she couldn’t bear the light and emptiness any longer. She shivered, felt Betsy jump up on the bed and heard the phone ring. No way was she going to answer it again. Maybe she could sleep a couple of hours and wake up feeling better.

  Maybe it would be eighty degrees by morning.

  Several times she ignored the phone and lay curled under the covers in the no-man’s-land of half awake, half asleep and too sad to force herself awake. When she heard the front door open more than an hour later, she sighed and sat up.

  “I know you’re here,” came the familiar voice from downstairs. “Your car is in the garage. Your cell is off, so Gordon called me to see if you were out with me. Ready or not, here I come.” Susan. The words accompanied footfalls on the stairs. Betsy went to stand at the door, tail wagging. “Hi, girl, did you get her up?”

  “No, she likes to sleep as much as I do.”

  “Liar, you don’t like to sleep, you just can’t seem to find a reason to do anything else.”

  Nora scrubbed her hands through her hair. She’d washed it the day before yesterday, or was it longer than that? It was sure to be glued in odd places to her scalp.

  “Nice hair. Okay, I have a list here to choose from.” Susan’s cheeks were pink from the cold, and fresh air surged around her like a life force. Life. It invaded the soporific atmosphere of the room, poking Nora to get up and join in.

  Nora’s groan meant nothing to her friend as Susan plowed onward, plopping on the bed and bouncing Nora.

  “Skiing. Out to lunch, we can do both of those. I haven’t been out to lunch with you in forever. You could talk with Luke, that could come after lunch. Go shopping, everything is on sale. Build a fire downstairs and have a heart-to-heart and prayer session. Read this book I brought you—start today while I read my own book. Yes, here in your house. Now. We can accomplish all these today or we can spread them out.”

  Nora glanced up from studying the dust bunny laced with dog hair on the carpet. Susan bounced on the bed again. The compassion on her face and in her eyes set the burning alight.

  “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

  “The more you cry now, the less you’ll cry later.”

  “How do you know, it wasn’t your son that died.” The pain wrenched the words from her.

  “No.” Nora’s tone had no effect on Susan’s expression of determined kindness. “I know that, but I took that class with you, remember? Just after my mother died. I don’t know how much worse it is when it is your child, but I know that it hurts.” Her friend rolled to a standing position by the head of the bed. “I have another option for that list. Let me call Lois.”

  “Lois? I don’t know a Lois.”

  “Remember, she lost a little girl to leukemia? She said she’d be honored to talk with you.”

  “ ‘Honored’?” Nora stared at her friend through tears.

  “I talked with her this morning. She tried to call you a couple of times, but you didn’t return her call, which she said didn’t surprise her.”

  Nora rested her chin in her hands, elbows propped on her knees. “I don’t feel like talking to anyone.” Not even God. Most definitely not He who took her son.

  “That would be a lie. See? You’re talking to me.” Now Susan squatted next to the bed and clasped Nora’s hand. It was warm to her oh-so-cold one. She let her friend keep the grip. “So, do you want me to recite my list again? Add anything to it? By the way, you and Gordon are being prayed for right now, as the prayer group is meeting today.”

  “Gordon is doing just fine, going back to work, talking with people, coming home to a dreary house.” She knew her words wore a patina of bitterness.

  “Gordon just hides things better than you do. He’s also talking with Luke.”

  Nora raised her head. “He didn’t tell me that.”

  “Maybe he figured you didn’t want to know. Listen, I brought in your mail. You have a stack of cards.”

  Nora groaned again. How did other people respond to memorial gifts right away? That was another thing they had to decide. What to do with the memorial money? What would Charlie want? Christi might have an answer there, if Christi would talk with her without snarling. Thinking of her daughter reminded Nora of her mission.

  “I know what I need to do. I need to call Mr. Morency at the high school.”

  Susan handed her the bedroom phone. “Great.”

  Taking the phone with one hand and digging into her sweats for the number, Nora wanted to say she was too tired, too foggy to think. She sighed. She was tired of saying she was too tired. Plus, she knew Susan wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

  In less than fifteen minutes, the reptile transfer details had been worked out. The biology teacher would pick them up after school today. Nora had a little time to figure out how to tell Christi before she picked her up.

  Susan shooed her toward the shower. “Take a shower, that hair sculpture doesn’t work for you. To demonstrate what a great friend I am, I’ll pack up the critters while you’re doing that.” Susan bent over to scratch Betsy’s back.
“Then I’ll take you to lunch, my treat.”

  Nora ran her tongue over sticky teeth and sighed. “All right, I give up.” She heaved herself to her feet and headed for the bathroom. She stuck her head back out and hollered. “But not out to lunch, there’s too much food here that is going to waste. You can eat leftovers.” Susan’s laughter ended as Nora closed the bathroom door.

  Sometime later as they sat at the round table in the bay window, bowls of chili laced with cheese and tortilla chips for crunch before them, Susan bowed her head for grace. “Father, thank you for food, for friendship, for Your grace to get through these hard and dark days. Thank you that You have a plan for good for Nora, Gordon and Christi, not a plan for evil. You promised and we trust You to keep Your promises. Amen.”

  Nora’s amen was silent. “Thank you.” She meant for more than the meal, and the smile Susan gave her said she understood.

  After taking her first bite, Susan rolled her eyes. “This is great. Who made the chili?”

  “I have no idea. Gordon took this one out of the freezer and heated it up last night.”

  “And you were?”

  “Sleeping, I guess. I lay down for a little nap and suddenly he was shaking me to wake up and come down and eat.” She took a bite from her spoon, then used the chip to scoop out the next. “Most likely, the name is on the bottom of the dish.” She nodded toward the counter. “We are getting quite a collection.”

  “You want me to take them back to church?”

  Nora shook her head. “Some are from neighbors and other friends.”

  “Fine, I’ll sort through and take the ones from church. I’m going by there anyway.” She crunched on a chip. “Isn’t Christi’s big eighteenth birthday coming up?”

  Why did her saying “Christi’s birthday” set Nora’s teeth on edge? Because it had always been the twins’ birthday. Charlie was being left out. “What date is today?”

  “January fourth.”

  “Their birthday is the eighth.”

  Typical of Susan, she switched subjects. “This may be too personal for you right now, but I think you’re sleeping too much.”

  Nora considered telling her she was indeed too personal, but surprised herself by agreeing. “Maybe so. It’s so easy.”

  Susan shrugged. “It happens a lot, I guess. I’m not sure there is any such thing as normal. Each person is different, each situation is different.” Susan leaned forward. “I think you should talk with Lois.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “What if I ask her to call you?”

  Nora stirred the chili left in her bowl. At least she’d eaten part of it. What good would talking to Lois do? What could it hurt? She’d probably end up crying again. Were there a certain number of tears that needed to be cried out? Did everyone who lost a child feel like she did?

  “If you want.”

  “It isn’t what I want, it’s what will help you. I don’t know how to help, other than praying and coming over here to bug you.”

  “Well, you’re good at that.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Right. Far easier to deal with someone who is being un-nice,” Susan replied briskly, balancing a disproportionate amount of chili on a tortilla chip and then inserting it into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing the mouthful, she cocked her head. “Un-nice? That’s not even proper English.” She stood and, after setting her dishes in the sink, started searching for names on the stack of returnable serving containers. She found a box in the garage to pack with the ones she knew. “You want me to deliver these to your neighbors?”

  Nora shrugged. She stared at the baskets still on the counter, now stuffed and overflowing with cards. All those needed to be opened, read and answered, if there was a gift inside. Maybe if she and Gordon did them together, it wouldn’t be so painful. Maybe Christi would address the replies in her beautiful calligraphy. “Maybe,” a heavy word that drove her farther into her chair. She glanced at the clock. Half an hour and she needed to pick Christi up from school.

  She forced herself to leave the safety of her chair and join Susan in the kitchen. Putting the dishes from lunch in the dishwasher kept her hands busy, but not her mind. “I’m not looking forward to Christi’s reaction to the critter removal. Susan, why do you suppose Christi hates me now?”

  “Nora, what a dumb thing to say. You and Christi have a pretty amicable relationship.” She held up her hands in warning. “I know, I know, she and Gordon are closer, but then you and Charlie were closer. But still, you’ve always gotten along.”

  “If I say something is white, she’ll say it is black.” Nora opened a tin of cookies and offered them to Susan. “We can’t be in the same room without snapping.”

  “Give it time. You’re both hurting so bad, you can’t stand it, and then take it out on each other.”

  “I don’t attack her.” Nora thought for a moment. “Not intentionally anyway.”

  Susan picked up the box. “I’ll take this out to the car and be right back.”

  Betsy whined to go out and Nora opened the door for her. At least the dog was polite. Dog back in, Nora headed for the closet for her jacket and gloves. Being late would only add fuel to the fire. Perhaps being back in the school routine would be the best thing for all of them. She glanced at the calendar. Four days until the birthday. How would she get through that day?

  “Call me in the morning, and if we can’t go skiing, we’ll go mall walking.” Susan snagged her purse off the counter. “And if you don’t call me, I’ll be here to pull you out of bed.”

  “What about Benny?”

  “As soon as I drop him off at preschool.”

  “Thanks for coming. It helped.” Nora backed away when Susan started to hug her. “Not yet.”

  “Not un-nice enough?” Susan waved as she went to the front door, leaving Nora to head for the garage, dog at her heels.

  Waiting in line with the other mothers in their warm cars, Nora leaned her head against the back of the seat. Before school started, Gordon had mentioned a car for Christi. Christi had not particularly wanted a car then, and, besides, she didn’t need one. Charlie made sure she got where she needed to go, or her mother did, or a friend. She had her driver’s license. Nora thought they might as well stab a knife into her chest, the thought of her remaining child out driving bit so sharp. Even though she’d learned the accident that killed her son was due to the other car skidding on black ice, it could happen again. Or any number of things—no matter how good a driver Christi was. The police had followed up with the details of the accident, and asked if she and Gordon wanted to press charges. But nothing would bring Charlie back, and she was sure the other driver had nightmares about the accident as it was.

  Betsy’s routine of whining and whimpering and the opening of the car door broke her terrifying thoughts. Nora turned to say something, but the remote look on her daughter’s face stopped her. What ever happened to “hi” or “how are you” or “how was your day”? The door slammed and Christi slumped in the seat, her eyes closed.

  “That bad?” Nora asked softly.

  Christi’s nod barely moved her head. Had Nora not been watching, she would have missed it.

  “Care to talk?”

  A small shake. Then a muttered “Everything. Just everything.” A tear forced itself loose and meandered down her cheek.

  The sight of it made Nora roll her lips together and blink fast. No tears. I cannot drive with tears. What if she had to face school as Christi was, feeling the way she did? They probably didn’t allow naps at the desks. Dealing with sympathetic faces that made you want to cry, others avoiding you as if you had something they could catch. She hadn’t placed her daughter so vividly in her world, her new world after Charlie, until now. Christi suffered on a much more public stage than Nora did. She reached over the console and patted Christi’s arm.

  “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?” Christi twisted and untwisted her long, art
istic fingers.

  “Can we talk about that later?” After you have some time to decompress. She eased her way into the traffic, keeping an extra careful watch on pedestrians and cars alike. Never had she been so aware of danger all around as she had since the accident. She gripped the wheel tightly. Feeling so vulnerable was a new experience.

  They were nearly home before Nora summoned the courage to mention Arnold and company. “Mr. Morency is coming to adopt Charlie’s critters. Susan packed up all their things so we don’t have to. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

  Christi whipped her head around and glared at her mother. “Why are you doing that? You just want to get rid of all his things. You never even asked me what I want.”

  The venom in her voice blindsided Nora like a car slamming into hers. She gasped involuntarily and jerked the wheel, overcorrecting, then finally reestablishing control. A horn sounded behind them.

  “What is wrong with you!” Christi shrieked.

  “But… you don’t even like his snakes and reptiles. You never have.”

  “I didn’t complain about taking care of them, did I?” They were in the driveway now. Christi opened the door, leaped out and slammed it behind her. Betsy whimpered. So did Nora. No matter what she did, it was wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Jenna

  They sure were nice,” Heather mumbled as her mother tucked her into her own bed. Elmer, snuggled in the curve of her arm, his purr in major crescendo, blinked at Jenna as if to say, Just try and move me.

  “If you mean our pilots and Dr. Avery, you are double right.” Jenna had breathed more than one sigh of relief since the phone call that told her she had nothing to worry about, the plane would be at the airport and the ambulance was already reserved to take them there. An aide car had met them at the airport in North Platte and delivered them to their apartment.