by Nan Rossiter
Rumer’s eyes grew wide. “Really?!”
Beryl nodded. “Come see.”
Rumer followed her sister across the hall and Beryl pulled open the drawer of their mom’s jewelry box. The sapphire ring sparkled brightly. “Oh, my,” Rumer said softly. Then her expression changed from one of amazement to one of puzzlement. “How come I never saw Mum wear this?”
“I don’t know—I didn’t either,” Beryl answered, reaching for the card. “That’s funny,” she said, “the card’s not here.” She looked behind the dresser and then under the bed and found it surrounded by dust mice. “I must have dropped it when I ran outside to get Flan before …” She looked at her sister and shook her head. “Long story—anyway, that’s it.”
Rumer studied the delicate painting of the cardinal and then opened it to read the inscription. “I have no idea who David is … or was. Maybe Isak knows.” Just then, a car door slammed and they looked out the window to see a red Ford Mustang parked next to the Mini. “Speak of the devil,” Rumer said with a grin.
8
The morning clouds melted away as Mia’s daughters stood in the driveway, embracing, smiling, and crying—all at once—their grief overwhelming them as they realized their beloved mom would never stand in the sunlight with them again—to hug … or cry … or laugh.
“Listen,” Beryl exclaimed, pulling back tearfully. “Do you hear that?” Her sisters stopped talking and listened. “Peepers!” Beryl exclaimed, her heart lifting. “Mum loved that sound.” A chorus of high-pitched chirping filled the air and Rumer and Isak smiled, remembering all the times they’d scooped clear, gelatinous eggs and pond water into jars and watched the little black centers of the eggs hatch into tadpoles. Then they’d pulled on their muck boots, marched dutifully back to the pond, and gently released the tadpoles into the cold, gray water. A month or so later, on a warm, sunny afternoon, they would trip down the driveway from the school bus and hear the cheerful, welcoming sound of peeping. And night after mild spring night, they’d drift to sleep listening to the wonderful sound of new life. “Mum is smiling too,” Beryl said matter-of-factly, and Isak and Rumer both nodded, knowing it was true.
Suddenly realizing there was another new guest, Flannery trundled over from the direction of the pond and jumped up on Isak’s tan slacks. “Oh, Flan,” Isak groaned, leaning down to brush away the muddy smear. The old dog looked up and wagged her hind end, blissfully unaware of any wrongdoing. “I would’ve said hello to you. You didn’t have to jump up,” she said, scratching her big blocky head.
Beryl smiled and picked up Isak’s suitcase while Rumer clicked out the handle of the rolling carry-on. Isak followed them, stopping to look up at the old farmhouse and then, with Flan at her heels, went inside.
They set the luggage just inside the door, and Isak ran her fingers lightly over the kitchen table and shook her head. “Some things never change …” she said wistfully as new tears spilled down her cheeks. “And some things will never be the same.” Beryl put her arm around her and Isak leaned against her little sister. “And you had to weather the worst of it, Ber. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. You got here as soon as you could,” Beryl reassured her. “There was no way to know how quickly she would go.”
“And … how bad was it?”
“It was sad … and really hard, but she wasn’t in any pain, and I’m glad I was there.”
Isak nodded, wiping under her eyes. She smiled through her tears. “Thank goodness for waterproof mascara and hemorrhoid cream.” Rumer and Beryl both looked puzzled and she laughed. “Didn’t Mum ever tell you? Hemorrhoid cream works like a charm for puffy eyes.”
“Really?” Rumer asked incredulously.
Isak nodded. “Yup, just don’t get it in your eyes.”
“Mum never told me that,” Beryl said. “We’ll have to get some before Saturday.”
“No need,” Isak said as she reached into her bag and produced a new tube of Preparation H.
Beryl laughed. “Well, that’s one less thing we have to think about.”
As she spoke, there was a light knock at the screen door and they all looked up. Beryl immediately recognized the tall, thin figure standing on the porch and hurried over to open the door. “Hi, Mr. O’Leary.”
She turned to introduce him to her sisters. “This is Mr. O’Leary—he owns the funeral home. He’s also a faithful customer at Tranquility.” The old gentleman smiled and reached out to shake their hands.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” he said solemnly. “Your mother was a lovely lady.” Isak and Rumer thanked him while trying not to notice his wayward appearance. Mr. O’Leary’s khaki pants, held up by worn leather suspenders, were hitched well above his waist, making them three inches too short and revealing sagging wool hiking socks; his blue oxford shirt was threadbare and wrinkled, and his once-white-now-mare-gray undershirt was frayed around the neck. “Please forgive me,” he said, apologetically, “I forgot my tie.” As he spoke he reached up to close his collar with fingers gnarled by arthritis.
Beryl gave her sisters a warning look. “That’s okay, Mr. O’Leary, we aren’t dressed up either. Would you like some iced tea?”
“That sounds good,” he said. She filled four glasses with ice, poured chilled tea into the glasses, and added a sprig of mint to each. He thanked her and they all sat down around the kitchen table of their childhood to discuss the burial plans for their beloved mother.
“He was very nice,” Isak said after Mr. O’Leary had left with the bag of clothes for their mom—of which she had approved—and a check for four thousand dollars.
“He was,” Rumer agreed, “and funny too. I never expected him to be funny, but I guess—in a business like that—you have to have a sense of humor.”
“His wife passed away a year ago,” Beryl said, eyeing them admonishingly. “I’m sure that’s why he looked a little disheveled. He used to come in and buy Irish breakfast tea all the time—and he was always neatly dressed—but I hardly ever see him anymore.”
Isak and Rumer nodded a bit remorsefully, and Isak commented, “Well, I’m glad he takes the body to the crematory himself—I don’t want to end up with someone else’s ashes.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to see her before … ?” Beryl asked.
Rumer shook her head. “I’d rather just remember her the way I do now.” Isak nodded in agreement.
The phone rang suddenly, breaking the somber silence that had settled over the kitchen and Beryl stood to answer it. Isak and Rumer both listened quietly as she spoke. “Hi, Reverend Peterson. Yes, I think so. Hold on.” She held the mouthpiece against her hand. “Are you guys all right with meeting at the church in an hour?” Rumer and Isak both nodded. “Yes, we can come,” Beryl continued. She looked at the clock. “Five o’clock? That’s fine—okay, see you then.”
“I’m going up to change,” Isak said as Beryl hung up the phone. She turned to get her bags.
“Well, before you do, we have a question for you,” Rumer said, grabbing the carry-on and following her. Isak set her suitcase down in the hall outside their mom’s bedroom and peered into the familiar sun-swept space as Beryl walked around the bed, opened the jewelry box, and picked up the ring. “Have you ever seen this before?”
Isak walked over, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Beryl dropped the ring into her sister’s hand. Isak smiled slowly. “Not only have I seen it before … I’ve worn it.”
“When?!” Beryl and Rumer asked in surprised unison.
“To my prom …”
Beryl and Rumer blinked in astonishment, and Isak continued, “Mum didn’t know. I tucked it into my clutch before I left and slipped it on in the car, and then I put it back the next morning.”
“How did you know about it?”
She shrugged. “Do you remember how we used to dress up and wear all of Mum’s beads and clip-on earrings?” They nodded and she continued. “Well, one time I accidently pulled the drawer out all the way and
I saw the ring … and I never forgot it.”
“How old were you?”
Isak shrugged. “I don’t know, seven or eight. Why?”
“Well, we were wondering how long she’d had it because we never saw her wear it.”
Isak nodded. “I don’t know why she never wore it.”
“Didn’t you worry you might lose it?”
Isak ran her fingers through her thick mane of red hair, fluffing it up, and grinned impishly. “Ber, when I was eighteen, I didn’t worry about anything. Life was all about having fun and seeing how much I could get away with.”
Beryl shook her head—it would never have even occurred to her to do such a thing.
Isak smiled, reading her mind. “Berry, how are you going to write the next great American novel if you don’t live a little—if you never take any chances? What will you write about? Mum never wore this gorgeous ring—she never did anything out of character—and now, she’s gone. Her life is over. Is that how you want your life to be?”
Beryl searched her sister’s face, trying to wrap her mind around what she’d just said, and when she answered, her voice was edged with anger. “Mum lived a good life, Isak. Maybe it wasn’t as exciting as yours, but she raised three little girls all by herself, and she never lost her faith in spite of tragedy, loss, and heartache. She helped those who were less fortunate, volunteered at soup kitchens, helped little kids learn to read, and gave generously to her church. Mum made us her life, and I know she felt blessed. I don’t know how many times I heard her say her cup runneth over.” Tears had filled Beryl’s eyes as she spoke. She couldn’t believe she had to defend their mother’s life to her own sister.
“I’m sorry, Ber, I didn’t mean to upset you. All I meant was she could’ve lived a little.”
“You’ve lived a little, Isak. You’ve snuck out of the house, run wild, traveled the world, driven expensive cars and hosted parties until the wee hours of the morning. Does that make your life better somehow?”
Isak swallowed hard and stared. Her youngest sister—so like their mom—wasn’t fooled by her bravado. She had looked straight into her heart and seen the emptiness, and she had spoken with brutal honesty. “You’re right, Beryl,” she said, her voice edged with sarcasm. “I do feel like something’s missing.”
Beryl’s mouth dropped. “I … I’m sorry, Isak,” she stammered. She took a deep breath. “I’m just tired and stressed, and that didn’t come out the way I—”
But Isak held up her hand and shook her head. “No, Ber. You’re right. Mum did live a good, full life and I …” She stopped as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I just wish I could ask her her secret.”
Beryl nodded slowly. “I wish I could too,” she said softly.
Rumer, who’d been sitting on the bed, cleared her throat. “Well,” she began hesitantly, “there’s actually more to our question …” Isak looked up and Rumer handed her the card. “Did you ever see this?”
Isak opened the card and turned it over. “No—you know me …” she said with a weak smile. “Blinded by bling! All I saw was the ring.” Her rhyming words rang true and they all laughed. Isak studied the handwriting again and slowly shook her head. “Who is David?”
Rumer shrugged. “We were hoping you would know.”
9
“I think Mum would be happy with the hymns we chose,” Beryl said, climbing into the back of the Mustang. “She always loved ‘Here I Am, Lord’—and cried every time we sang it in church.” She pulled the seat back for Rumer to get in and looked out the window. “She loved ‘Spirit of Gentleness’ and ‘There Is a Balm in Gilead’ too,” she added softly.
“Those hymns are all perfect,” Rumer agreed.
“I think Tommy might be willing to give a eulogy,” Isak said, turning the key. The engine rumbled to life. “He has a lot of memories from spending summers with Mum when he was little. But I think we should ask someone else too.”
“I wish I could say something,” Beryl mused, “but I’m afraid I’d never get through it. Maybe I’ll write something and let someone else read it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Rumer said.
“I think Meghan would be willing to read one of the Scriptures,” Isak added. “Would Rand want to?”
Rumer swallowed. “I don’t know, Isak. He’s kind of young and his reading skills aren’t the best, and I … I’m not even sure they’re coming.”
Isak looked over at her sister and just about drove off the road. “What? Why?”
“Hey!” Rumer said, reaching for the handle above her head. “Watch where you’re going!”
Isak looked back at the road. “By the way, where are we going? Are you two hungry?”
“A little,” Rumer said.
Beryl looked out the window. “I bought salad and stuff.”
Isak glanced over her shoulder. “We have all week to eat at the house. Why don’t we just go to Harlow’s? It would be quick and easy—and my treat.”
Beryl hesitated and then remembered the Avocado Bliss sandwich on the Harlow’s Pub’s menu. “Fine with me,” she said. “But afterward I have to stop at the shop.”
Isak and Rumer looked at each other. “Thoreau!” they said in unison.
“Why don’t we just bring that poor cat back to the house for the week?” Rumer asked. “He’s going to be lonely with the shop closed.”
“Actually, I hadn’t decided if I was going to close,” Beryl confessed. She was already beginning to feel like she might need a break from her sisters, and the shop would be the perfect excuse.
“Ber, you have to—we have so much to do,” Rumer said. “Just put a sign in the window. Your customers will understand.”
Isak nodded as she parked near the restaurant. “One week won’t break the business.”
“It might.”
“Well, if it does,” she quipped, “you’ll have more time for what you’re supposed to be doing—writing!” As they got out of the car, she eyed Rumer. “Now, what do you mean you don’t know if they’re coming? It’s his grandmother and he better be coming!”
“It’s not that simple,” Rumer said as she passed through the open door of the pub.
“It is that simple,” Isak countered, smiling at the hostess. “Three, please.”
The restaurant was crowded, but the hostess showed them to a table that had just been cleared. “Your waitress will be right with you,” she said with a warm smile, handing them menus.
“Rumer, I don’t want to hear some lame excuse about money. You’re about to come into money, and if you need some until that happens, just say so.”
Rumer shook her head. “Will does not want to bor—”
“Will needs to get over himself,” Isak interrupted dismissively. “He always thinks he has to carry the world on his shoulders. There was a time when he was fun to be around, when he didn’t take life so seriously—whatever happened to that Will?”
“I guess I happened to him,” Rumer replied edgily. “You know, Isak, you’re awfully quick to judge people. Not everyone has had the world handed to them.”
Their waitress appeared. “Hey, ladies! My name’s Lexie. Would you like to start with something to drink?”
Isak looked questioningly at her sisters, and Rumer quickly scanned the beverage list. “Hmm, I’ll have a Sam Adams—Alpine Spring, if you have it.” Lexie nodded and turned to Beryl.
“I think I’ll have an iced t …” she started, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Isak shaking her head and quickly changed her mind. “I’ll have a Corona with lime.”
Isak chuckled and, giving their waitress a conspiratorial grin, said, “I’ll have a Grey Goose and soda with a twist of lemon. Thanks, Lexie.”
Beryl took a deep breath and felt like kicking her—hard! Isak was as overbearing as ever.
“Anyway, we’ll make airline reservations on my card and you can pay me back whenever. And now that we know that it’s definitely going to be Saturday, they can come out on Friday an
d they’ll only miss one day of work and school.”
Rumer sighed; she was already dreading the conversation she’d be having with Will.
Lexie returned with their drinks. “Ready to order?”
“I am,” Beryl said.
Rumer groaned, “No, I haven’t even looked.” She reached up to tuck the loose strands of her wispy blond hair behind her ears and opened her menu.
“I guess we’ll need a couple minutes,” Isak said, reaching for her drink.
“No problem,” Lexie said. “I’ll come back.”
Rumer looked up. “What are you having?”
“An Avocado Bliss.” Beryl pointed to where it was on the menu.
“And … what are you havin’?” Rumer queried, looking at Isak.
Isak sipped her drink. “An Avocado Bliss,” she said with a grin.
Rumer closed her menu. “You guys should’ve said so!” She took a sip of her beer, leaned back, and finally seemed to relax. Lexie came back and they ordered chips ’n’ salsa and three of their famous avocado sandwiches.
Beryl squeezed her lime and pushed it down into the neck of her bottle. It dropped into the clear bottle and fizzed. She took a sip and licked her lips, savoring the lime juice on the rim.
Rumer glanced around the room and her eyes stopped at a table in the corner. “Ber, isn’t that Micah Coleman?”
Beryl followed her gaze and nodded. “It is,” she said with a smile. As she said this, Micah looked up and smiled at her; a moment later, he stood and reached for his jacket and an older couple and a little blond-haired girl stood too. Beryl watched the older gentleman hand Micah the little girl’s jacket, and Micah knelt down and helped her slip it on. Then he reached for her hand and led the little girl across the room to their table.
“Hi, Ber,” he said.
Beryl stood up, smiling, and gave Micah a hug. “Hi,” came her soft reply. “I got your message and I was going to call you as soon as we finalized everything.”
Micah nodded and looked over at Isak and Rumer too. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. Rumer and Isak hadn’t seen Micah in years, but they immediately remembered him as the quiet boy who’d worked in their mom’s shop.