A Kingsbury Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Talkative, huh?” Frank broke the silence Aaron had left in his wake. Frank managed a plastic smile from behind his thick, round glasses. There were beads of perspiration forming along his thinning hairline, and he looked especially tense.

  “I’m sorry, Frank,” Diane patted his shoulder as he and Amy prepared to leave. “Don’t take it personally.”

  Frank shrugged and shook his head quickly. “He’s very immature. That’s not something I take personally.”

  Diane bid them good-bye, thankful that Frank was an intelligent man. He was thirty-eight and had come into Amy’s life at a time when she was trying to decide what to do with her future. She was a pretty girl with a fuller figure than her sisters. She hated the way men ogled her chest whenever she went out. Before meeting Frank she had confided in Diane that she was seriously thinking about becoming a nun.

  In response her father had taught her how to use his computer to tap into electronic bulletin boards. After that, Amy spent hours chatting with people she could neither see nor hear. Until then, she had never found a social niche that suited her. But when her fingers made contact with the computer keyboard, she entered a world that seemed custom-made for her alone. It was a world in which she had thrived.

  A few months later she began having nightly computerized conversations with a man whose screen name was “Franco.” She was going by the name “Aimless,” something her friends had called her in high school. After exchanging photographs in the mail, they finally agreed to meet one afternoon at a busy restaurant. Six weeks later they were engaged, and Frank quickly found his place in their family. He and John could talk for hours about computers. John had even said that, in Frank, he saw himself as a young man: intelligent, idealistic, and replete with limitless energy.

  Frank ran his own business assembling computers and selling them through mail-order advertisements. He easily earned enough money to keep Amy quite comfortable. After they were married Amy continued working at the private day care, but they certainly did not need her income to make ends meet.

  Frank was slightly plump and more than a little balding. He had almost white blond hair and was only an inch taller than Amy. From their first meeting, Frank doted on Amy and gave her the security she craved. Diane thought they were a perfect match.

  She watched them now as they drove away, and suddenly she felt exhausted. The sadness was so tiring, so gut wrenching. She wondered if she would ever wake up feeling refreshed and free of the burden John’s death had placed on her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her neck. Then she padded slowly down the hallway, past the spot where John had died, back to the bedroom they’d shared for twenty-one years. The pillows still smelled like him.

  In two minutes she had cried herself to sleep.

  15

  Back at Megan’s apartment, the sisters found Aunt Mary struggling with the children. Kyle had refused his bottle and spit up his applesauce on Megan’s living room floor. Kala and Koley had fought all morning over what toy belonged to whom, who had played with it longest, and whose turn it was now.

  Aunt Mary looked on the verge of a breakdown.

  Jane stepped into the middle of the chaos and calmly directed her children. In minutes there was peace again.

  “Kyle, get your pacifier,” she told the young boy. She walked to the spot where his playpen was set up. “Now lie down on your blanket and close your eyes.” She knelt beside him, stroked his forehead, and hummed softly. The child was asleep almost instantly.

  Next she looked at Koley. “Were you mean to your sister?” she asked softly. Megan disappeared to her room and Ellen found a chair off in the distance where she could watch Jane interact with her children.

  “Yes, Mommy.” Koley’s deep brown eyes were remorseful, full of shame. “Was that the right thing to do?”

  Ellen wondered if Jane caught the irony in her statement. After all, she hadn’t exactly been kind to her sister that morning. “No, Mommy.”

  “Well, I want you to go give Kala a kiss and tell her you’re sorry.”

  The little boy did as he was told, hugging his small sister so tight she could barely breathe.

  “That’s fine.” Jane motioned her children closer and kissed each of them on their foreheads. “I love you both very much and I know you’re going to behave better for Aunt Mary this afternoon while we’re gone. But right now I want you to find a spot on the floor and lie down. It’s nap time.”

  Ellen watched, amazed. Jane made parenting look easy, and Ellen wondered whether she would be so patient if she had children.

  Once the children were settled Jane fixed herself a sandwich. Megan joined Ellen at the small table, and Aunt Mary rested on the couch, exhausted from the morning.

  “Are you sure you can stay and watch them this afternoon?” Jane asked. “If it’s too much I can probably take them to Mom’s.”

  “No, no—” Aunt Mary straightened herself and tried to smile—“really, it’s all right. I think after they have a good nap everything’ll be just fine. In fact, I think I’ll go out and pick up something to eat before you leave.”

  Jane nodded. “Don’t rush. And thanks again, Aunt Mary. I’m sorry they were such a handful.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem. You all have a lot to work out and this is the least I can do for your mother.”

  Aunt Mary and the girls’ mother were very close; they had been for as long as anyone could remember. Like Ellen and Jane, they were only two years apart, but somehow through the years they had forged a camaraderie that superseded petty resentments.

  When Aunt Mary was gone, Ellen sighed. “She really seems frazzled. Too bad we can’t just take the kids back to Mom’s with us. I think she could use a break.”

  Jane lowered her sandwich and stared at Ellen, her eyes glittering.

  “If you’re trying to say that my children aren’t well behaved, then maybe you’d better keep your comments to yourself.” Ellen threw her hands in the air in mock surrender. She had tried unsuccessfully to ignore Jane’s comments all morning, but this was it. She’d reached her limit.

  “Jane, no matter what I say you take it wrong.”

  “Well, then, here’s some advice, Ellen. When it comes to other people’s kids, keep your mouth shut.” She snorted. “Of course, you’ve never been able to keep your mouth shut about anything.”

  Ellen stood, her body shaking with anger, and stared down at her sister. “What is with you, Jane?” She realized she was shouting, but she didn’t care. Across the room one of the sleeping children stirred. She struggled to regain her composure. “Exactly why is it you hate me?”

  “Be quiet, Ellen,” Jane hissed. “You’ll wake the kids.”

  “Oh, now it’s the kids again. Listen to yourself, Jane. Listen to how you talk to me whenever the kids are involved.” Ellen lowered her voice, but she couldn’t hide her rage. She was losing control. “You treat me like I’m some inept, brainless woman who has no idea what to say or do around someone younger than eighteen. Well, get off your high horse, sister dear. You’re a wonderful mother, but just because I don’t have children doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about them.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows sarcastically and picked up her sandwich. “If you knew anything about children, you wouldn’t have chosen a career over motherhood. But that’s just my opinion.”

  The words were a slap that took Ellen’s breath away. Her eyes filled with tears; her face twisted in pain. “Grow up, Jane! You’re so caught up in your own little bitter world that you don’t even know what you’re saying—” Ellen broke off, and two tears trickled down her face.

  Megan dropped her head in her hands and sighed. “You guys, this is so stupid. You know you love each other, so why don’t you just apologize and get over it.”

  Ellen spun to face her. “Megan, this has nothing to do with me. I’ve done everything humanly possible to get along with Jane, but she’s determined to make life miserable for me. Am I the only one who sees it?”

  �
��I don’t know.” Megan stood up abruptly. “You guys’ll have to work it out on your own. I’m not taking sides.” With that she headed for her bedroom.

  “I’m leaving,” Ellen announced.

  “We’ll leave together. In about thirty minutes.”

  Ellen looked at Megan. “No. We won’t. I’m walking back to Mom and Dad’s.” Ellen swung her purse over her shoulder and marched toward the front door. The Barrett home was two miles away, but Ellen would have walked ten rather than spend another minute in the same room with Jane. She stared at Megan before she left. “I’m not mad at you. I just can’t take her abuse anymore.”

  Jane shrugged, took a bite of her sandwich, and watched unsympathetically as Ellen walked to the door. “Get over it,” she muttered. And then to Megan, “She’s always overreacting about something.”

  It was a thick, humid afternoon and Leslie Maple wandered outside her Pennsylvania house toward her mailbox. She sorted through a stack of items as she made her way back in. Credit card offers, advertising, an insurance statement. Then she saw it. A hand-addressed, pale blue envelope postmarked Petoskey, Michigan. The town where she’d grown up. She set down the other mail and carefully ripped open the blue paper. Inside was a brief note and a newspaper article.

  “Thought you’d like to know about this,” the note read. “Take care and drop me a line sometime.” It was from Carolann Hanson. Carolann had graduated from Petoskey the same year as Leslie. And Ellen Barrett. Leslie smiled at the thought of her best friend from high school. When Ellen moved to Ann Arbor, Leslie had been devastated, but it had helped that she and Carolann began attending Bible studies together and meeting once a week for prayer. Leslie and Carolann still exchanged Christmas cards and remembered to pray for each other’s families.

  Leslie opened the clipping and saw that it was an obituary. Her heart sank and tears flooded her eyes. John Barrett, Ellen’s father, had suffered a heart attack and died. Leslie remembered Mr. Barrett vividly, his broad smile and the way he made Ellen’s friends feel so welcome in his home. She and Ellen’s other friends had loved Mr. Barrett and even called him Dad when they stopped by to visit. He was just that kind of parent.

  She sighed and thought of Ellen, of how devastated she must be. Then as naturally as she lived and breathed, Leslie bowed her head and began to pray.

  By the time everyone was back in place at the Barrett home it was one-thirty. Ellen sat in stony silence, not even looking at Jane. The anger between them was palpable, and the room was almost electrically charged with tension.

  Their mother studied the faces before her, and sighed. “First, I think we need to take care of whatever happened between Ellen and Jane.”

  “No problem here,” Jane said flatly.

  Ellen stared at Jane. Two could play that game. She turned and smiled at their mother. “Everything’s fine.”

  Their mother looked skeptically at her daughters. Across the room, Frank yawned and checked his watch.

  “Well,” she continued, “I know there’s a problem between you two, but if you don’t want to talk about it then let’s get on with it. We still have a lot of planning to do.”

  “About the music,” Amy jumped in. “Like I was trying to say last night—” she cast a disgusted glance toward Jane—“I think it would be nice if someone played that rugged cross song.”

  “ ‘The Old Rugged Cross,’ ” Jane snapped, providing the title of the song self-righteously.

  “The church has offered its organist and soloist for Saturday if we’re interested. So maybe we could make that a solo number early in the service,” their mother said. She wrote something down.

  “You’re right, Amy,” Megan said. “Dad loved that song. I think we should ask the soloist to sing it.”

  Mom nodded. “What do you think, Aaron? Girls?”

  “Fine.” Aaron was wearing his dark glasses again, and Ellen thought his cheeks looked tearstained.

  “Fine,” Jane added.

  “Ellen?” Sure.

  “Sure? Does that mean you’d rather have a different song?”

  “No, Mom.” Ellen was drained, and she felt almost sick. The walk had done little to ease her anxiety. She’d been too angry to feel like praying, so she’d spent the time thinking about her father first, and then about her marriage. In her haste she had forgotten her notepad, and she felt helplessly unorganized and a bit adrift without a distraction should the conversation become too heated. If Dad were still alive I’d be able to count on his support. But her father wasn’t alive. He was gone. Forever. And Ellen felt his absence more keenly with each passing moment.

  “Ellen?” her mother asked again. “Would you rather have a different song?”

  Wearily, she tried to explain herself. “I don’t want a different song. It’s just hard for me to get excited about songs that will be sung at Dad’s funeral.”

  Her mother sighed. Ellen thought her mother had sighed more these past days than in her whole life.

  “Ellen, dear, no one’s asking you to be excited. It’s a fact of life. We have to plan his funeral service or it won’t get done. Try to understand.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Mom looked at her notes again. “Now, Megan. Have you considered singing at the service?”

  Megan stared at her feet and fumbled her fingers uncomfortably. Ellen wondered at the hesitation. Everyone knew her sister had a beautiful voice, so much so that she was a favorite at local weddings and Christmas pageants. “I’ve thought about it.” She hesitated. “I just don’t think I could pull it off, Mom.”

  “Are you sure, honey? Your father loved to hear you sing.”

  Megan nodded. “I’m sorry. It would be too much for me.”

  “Okay, then, I think other than that we’ll just let the organist choose whatever music she wants.”

  There were nods of approval around the room.

  And so it continued.

  Their mother led them from one topic of concern to another. They decided to use roses throughout the church since their father loved red, and they agreed on a time for the service. Next they spent an hour discussing whether to use a two-page program with their dad’s picture on the front or stick with tiny prayer cards. Once they decided on the two-page program, they worked another two hours on the contents.

  They agreed to pick out a coffin on Thursday and to make Friday the private and public viewing day at the mortuary. Ellen and Aaron were opposed to the viewing, but their mother was adamant.

  “It’s important that we have a chance to say good-bye and see him as he’ll be when we bury him. It makes it more real.”

  Ellen shuddered at the thought. “He’s already gone, Mom. I mean, we can look at his dead body but we won’t be looking at him. That’s just a shell of who he was.”

  “Mom isn’t interested in your theology lesson, Ellen.” Jane’s tone was typically dry.

  “Girls! That’s enough. We’re having a viewing and that’s final.”

  Their mother sorted through her notes and glanced at her watch. Ellen followed suit. It was five-thirty. There were cold cuts and various breads and salads in the refrigerator and they had planned to eat no later than six. They weren’t finished, but Ellen hoped they would take a break soon. They could always finish after dinner if necessary.

  “Okay.” Mom glanced at her notes once more. “We still have to decide whether we want a full Mass or a shortened service where we, do more of the talking.”

  “A Mass is too impersonal. Especially at St. Francis,” Megan said. “Besides, I thought we were each going to write something about Dad and read it at the ser-vice.”

  “We talked about it but we didn’t decide anything.” Amy glanced around the room. “I couldn’t get up in front of that many people if my life depended on it.”

  “Same here,” Aaron grunted.

  “I think I’ve changed my mind on that. I agree with Amy and Aaron.” At this pronouncement, everyone in the room turned and stared at Ellen.
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  “You don’t want to write something about Dad?” Megan was clearly shocked.

  “Not for his funeral.” She had thought about reading a eulogy and decided against it during the walk from Megan’s apartment. “I’ve written him a thousand things in the past. He’s gone now. I can’t imagine summing up a lifetime of feelings in a two-minute eulogy. It’d be impossible. Let’s forget it.”

  Jane cocked her head to one side and considered Ellen’s statement. “I think we should do whatever Mom wants. Regardless of how Aaron and Amy—” she hesitated for effect—“and Ellen feel.”

  “Well, then—” Ellen stood—“maybe it’s time to wrap things up for the night and get back to the apartment.” It was all Ellen could do to keep her tone civil. It was obvious that Jane had agreed with the idea of individually prepared eulogies to spite her. Ellen was sick to death of her sister’s petty behavior. She just wanted to get back to Megan’s before she unleashed her rising anger on Jane, despite her mother’s request that they get along.

  “Sit down, Ellen,” Jane ordered. “We’re right in the middle of trying to work this out. We all heard what Mom said. She wants us to write a eulogy, however brief, and read it at the funeral. I think we should at least give her idea a chance.”

  Ellen pinned her with a glare, then smiled sweetly. “And I think Aunt Mary’s probably ready for a break after watching your children all day. Why don’t we stop for now, pick up the kids, and come back later?”

  Jane’s face grew red. “I don’t need you telling me when to give Aunt Mary a break. I can handle my children perfectly fine, thank you. That is one area where you can’t possibly know more than I do.”

  “Here we go,” Megan muttered under her breath while the others squirmed uncomfortably.

  “Jane, hear me out.” Ellen’s words were carefully controlled, but they did not hide her frustration. “You know the kids gave Aunt Mary a hard time this morning. Why make her work longer than she has to? Let’s take a break, get the kids, and come back.”