I cried in my mother’s arms and was still amazed how her voice could soothe me. No wonder she missed my grandmother so much.
“Carrigan,” Mrs. Diane said, “I hate to ask right now, but it’s mealtime for Elle. Do you want me to give her a bottle, or would you rather do it?”
“No,” I said. “I want to nurse her. I want to hold her before I have to get ready to . . . go back.”
She gave Elle to me, and I took her into the nursery where we could be alone. I had missed my baby so much. Jack came into the nursery and sat on the daybed.
“Is she hungry?”
“She’s starving!” I said. “Like a little pig.”
He watched as I nursed our daughter for a few minutes. “Are we good, Carrigan?”
“We’re better than good,” I said. “We’re the best we’ve ever been.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The church was already near capacity when Jack and I arrived at noon. After last night’s testaments, I don’t know why that surprised me. I had thought I’d be back soon enough that Ella Rae and I could spend a few minutes alone with Laine . . . for the last time. But Ella Rae wasn’t even back yet.
Jack and I made our way through the back entrance of the church and I headed straight to Laine’s casket. Strange as it sounds, it made me feel better to stand next to it, to keep my hand on it. I sighed and rubbed the cool mahogany with my hands. It was so smooth. I wanted to make Creepy Guy open the coffin, just to look at her again, but I knew that was out of the question. I briefly toyed with the idea of popping the top myself. Laine would probably sit up and slap me. I bent down and put my face against the cool wood.
“I’m back,” I whispered. “Rae’s on her way.”
The mahogany felt so good against my face. I stayed in that position and talked to Laine. I wasn’t crying and I wasn’t upset. I just wanted to talk to her. I told her that everything between Jack and me was going to be okay. I told her about how sweet Elle had been that morning and how I wished she’d been there to see her. I told her how upset Mitch had been last night and to send him some comfort if she found a way. I stroked the mahogany with my hand and whispered all the things I wanted her to know. Jack was standing near talking to someone I couldn’t see. His hand was on my waist, but his attention was on his companion. I could’ve stayed there all day, having a sweet, private, last conversation with my girl. I felt Jack move his hand away, and presently Ella Rae appeared. She put her head down on the casket too and draped an arm around my shoulder.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just talking to Laine.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
“I thought you were crying.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re laid out over this coffin. Duh,” Ella Rae said.
“I was just talking to her and the wood felt good against my face.”
“It’s a bunch of people who think you are crying,” she said. “I thought you were crying, and now I bet they think we’re both crying.”
It never occurred to me people would wonder what I was doing.
“This wood does feel good,” Ella Rae observed and began stroking the top of the coffin with her free hand. “It’s very cool to the touch.”
I made a face. “It’s very cool to the touch?” I asked. “I have never heard you say anything like that in your life.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” I said. “You just don’t speak like that. She speaks like that.”
Ella Rae rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, people think you are upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“About anything?”
“Well, other than Laine being dead and all,” I said. “Maybe we should get up now.”
We started to move, but she stopped me. “Wait.”
“What is it now?” I asked.
“Do you think we should . . . cry?” she said. “I mean, should we be upset? We can’t just act like we were taking a nap.”
“I can’t cry right now. I’m not upset,” I said.
“Let’s just stay like this until the funeral is over,” she said.
“Perfect,” I said. “We can ride the coffin out of here like a mechanical bull.”
“Yes,” Ella Rae said, “and the band can play something out of Urban Cowboy.”
“It’s a choir, not a band, barhopper,” I said. “This is called a church.”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “I knew I made the wrong turn.”
Call it ridiculous, call it childish or irreverent, but we began to laugh. Really laugh. And it felt good. Looking back, I’m sure it was because of anxiety, nerves, or sheer mental and physical exhaustion, but there was no stopping it.
Within a minute or two the giggles took over completely. “Creepy Guy would try to move us,” I said.
“Oh, I am sure,” Rae said. “He would appear out of nowhere, just like a vampire, swoop down, and catch us both around the neck. Then he’d say, ‘Hey baby, how ’bout a little formaldehyde on the rocks at my place?’ ”
My entire body shook with laughter. “Stop!” I said. “Stop it now.”
“Ladies.” Jack appeared behind us with an arm around us both. “I don’t know what’s going on, but most everyone in this church has become distraught watching the two of you. Now . . . I know you’re laughing . . .”
“What gave us away, Jack?” Ella Rae said. “It was her, wasn’t it? She’s so uncool in these situations!”
“These situations?” I said. “When’s the last time you laid on a casket, Rae?”
“I was in Caskets R Us just yesterday, smarty pants,” she said. “I’m their new spokesperson. I laid on every casket in the house. I personally like the newer models because—”
“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “Here’s what we’re about to do. I’m going to stand up with my arms around both of you, and you two are going to put your heads as deep into my chest as you can get them, and we’ll walk out the back. Got it?”
“Did you wear deodorant?” Ella Rae asked.
“What the hell is wrong with y’all?” he asked. “Now behave and hold on.”
We walked out the back with our heads buried in Jack’s suit jacket until he pushed us into the ladies’ room. Thankfully, no one else was in it, because he came in too.
“What was that?” he demanded when we were safely behind the locked door.
Ella Rae sat down on the toilet and laughed so hard she had to hold on to the wall. I sat on the floor and held my sides, shaking all over.
Jack shook his head. “The only sane one in the bunch is gone.”
That was the funniest line of the day. We were nearly screaming with laughter now.
“Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies,” Ella Rae began to chant. That had been Laine’s favorite mantra when she’d contracted the inappropriate giggles.
“And I don’t want to know what that means,” Jack said. “For God’s sake, try to get it together in the next five minutes.” He closed the door behind him.
After the laughter finally subsided, Ella Rae looked at me and smiled. “I can’t tell you how much I needed that.”
I shook my head. “I know, me too. And, girl . . . do I have a story for you.”
“Tell!” she said.
“Not today,” I said. “Today belongs to Laine.”
“This funeral is gonna suck, Carr
igan,” she said. “I wish we could skip over it, and then again, I want it to last for three days.”
“Me too.”
“I wish we could go back and do every bit of it again.”
“Even the crappy parts,” I said, “and even if I knew it would end all over again just like this.”
“We didn’t let her leave here without . . . without . . .,” Ella Rae said.
“We left nothing unspoken,” I said. “We turned over every stone. We shook every tree. We said it all.”
Ella Rae shook her head. “I know you are right. I just can’t remember saying it all. I would think of things I wanted to tell her when I was in bed at night, and then I couldn’t remember what they were the next day.”
“We told her everything,” I said. “I promise you we did.”
She stood up and smoothed her dress. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m ready now.”
I took the hand she extended and got up off the floor. “I’m ready too.”
Mrs. Jeannette asked Ella Rae and me to sit on the front pew with the family. “You girls were her sisters,” she said. “Where else would you be?” Jack, Mitch, and Tommy were on the pew behind us. Jack leaned up right before the service began and gave me a hug. “You’ll do her proud, Carri. You always have.” I hoped he was right. I had finally come up with what I wanted to say in the eulogy, then completely changed my mind. Twice. I hoped I could convey what was in my heart.
As soon as the music began, Ella Rae began to cry. I tried to think about something else, anything else. I didn’t want to start the waterworks before I had to speak. I thought about Elle. I thought about football. I thought about frog hunting. Nothing worked. I dabbed at my tears with a dainty hankie that had belonged to Laine.
“Friends, family, and loved ones, we are here to celebrate the life of Laine Elizabeth Landry,” Reverend Martin said. “Let us open with a word of prayer.”
I stared at my shoes while Reverend Martin prayed. I stared at their heels, the way they were made, the way the straps looked, the point of the toes. I did everything I could to avoid listening short of putting my fingers in my ears. I finally heard him say, “Amen” and I looked up again. It was going to be a long hour or so.
“Laine came to see me last year, a few weeks after she’d been released from the hospital. She wanted to write the opening remarks for her funeral and asked me if I could help her with that. While this may seem a bit unorthodox to some, I intend to follow her wishes.”
I glanced over at Ella Rae, and she shrugged slightly. Laine continued to surprise us.
Reverend Martin began to read. “My name was Laine Elizabeth Landry. I was a daughter and a friend and a teacher and an aunt. Those were the most important things in my life and the things I hope to be remembered for. I am survived by the most wonderful mother a girl could ask for, Jeannette Landry, who gave me a treasured childhood and wings to fly when it was over. I love you, Mama. I had one brother, Michael, whose strength I always relied on and envied. I love you, Mike; you and Belinda take care of my nieces. I had two sisters, Carrigan Whitfield and Ella Rae Weeks, who were, indeed, my sisters in every sense of the word. They showed me what unconditional love was time and time again. I am also survived by four nieces and a niece by proxy. It’s a beautiful world, girls, but it’s a tough world too. Ask for help when you need to, be good to your parents, and find true friends who will love you through it all. Remember, it isn’t always blood that makes a family. I asked Michelle Lange to sing this song for all of you, my family. I loved you all very much. Thank you for everything. And don’t worry . . . I will save you all a seat.”
Ella Rae was openly sobbing by now. So were Mrs. Jeannette, Michael, and most everyone in the church. I was hanging on by a thread. I was pretty sure I would make it without dissolving into a puddle. But then the music started. I recognized the chords immediately, and so did Ella Rae. She buried her face in my shoulder, and I put my arm around her as Michelle began to sing a song we’d loved since junior high. It was a ballad about life and love and loss and fit the occasion perfectly.
Laine had known all along what music would be played today, what would be said today. She had only pretended to make us plan her funeral so we’d get used to the idea of having one. And stop being so frightened by the word. All this time, I thought I was the sly one of our trio, and it turned out to be Laine. She’d punked us. I wanted to laugh, but my tears were falling too fast, so I put my head against Ella Rae’s and cried instead. The music finally ended and Reverend Martin stepped back to the podium. He began speaking of heaven and how Laine was there, healthy again, whole again, visiting with her daddy and other loved ones who had gone before her. He spoke of green valleys and golden streets, of mansions and angels. I heard bits and pieces, ignoring what I could and feeling much like I had in Doctor Rougeau’s office the day this nightmare had first begun. I didn’t want to hear anything about heaven, especially the part where Laine was there now. Heaven was no comfort to me. Laine was gone and God took her. I was going to need a signed letter from him to explain this.
The sound of my name jerked me back into the world. Reverend Martin had just announced I would deliver the eulogy. I squeezed Ella Rae’s hand and walked to the podium on automatic pilot. I still had no idea what would come out of my mouth.
I looked around at the packed house, then at Jack and Ella Rae. Then from somewhere inside, I found my voice. “When Laine asked me to do this, my first reaction was to tell her ‘No, I can’t and I won’t.’ But she wore me down. I knew there was no possible way for me to tell you who Laine Landry was. I knew I could never make anyone understand what we had all lost.
“Then, in the last two days—no, really in the last few months—I realized I didn’t have to tell you who she was and what we lost, because you all told us. It was obvious in the visits to the Farm by her students, past and present. It was obvious by the flowers that arrived continuously. It was obvious in the phone calls and the cards and the food and the words you shared with us . . . especially in the last few days. You told us things about her that we never knew. The lives she touched weren’t exclusive to Ella Rae and me, although we probably thought they were.”
I looked at Ella Rae, my sweet friend, still crying but smiling now too. “We lived in our bubble . . . and we really, really loved our bubble. But she lived out here . . . with all of you. So I want to say thank you. Thank you for sharing those things with us that we never knew anything about. Thank you for loving our friend. And thank you for allowing her to love you, because she really did.”
I paused for a second, trying to decide which direction I should take. “I suppose my real job is to stand here and tell you some crazy stories about Laine, but I probably can’t without incriminating Ella Rae and myself.” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.
“So I’m just going to tell you the truth, and the truth is . . . my heart hurts. It hurts for myself and for Ella Rae and for Laine’s family. I want my friend back. I want to see her walk across the street to my house and keep score at a ball game and ride her bike and play with my baby. And it kills me to think my daughter will never know this wonderful, beautiful soul who watched her come into this world. She was wise beyond her years and a true and trusted friend. Poppa Jack once said to me, ‘Laine is a fighter in her own way.’ I thought he was crazy, because I only knew her to be just the opposite, kind and calm and gentle. But I have come to realize he was right. She was a fighter. She fought me, all the time. She fought for me all the time. She fought for Ella Rae and for her students and anywhere she saw injustice. And she fought cancer too. She rose above all it stripped her of, and she won that battle. Because it may have taken her body, and it may have taken her from us, but it never took her spirit, and it will never take her memory.”
I stepped down from the podium and kissed Laine’s coffin for the last time. I managed to make it back to Ella Rae’s arms before the dam broke.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I gathered the shawl closer around Elle’s shoulders and pointed at her daddy turning into the driveway.
“Who’s that?” I asked her as she spotted Jack’s truck.
She began flailing her little arms and legs as she recognized him. It was her normal reaction whenever she saw him. She was only seven months old, but she was very bright, even if I do have to say so myself.
Jack was wearing a huge grin as he stepped out of the truck, which was his normal reaction when he saw Elle. I was surprised he didn’t flail his arms and legs as well. He took the steps two at a time, planted a quick kiss on my lips, and scooped Elle out of my arms. She immediately began patting his face with her hands.
“What did my two favorite girls do today while Daddy was at work?”
She responded by placing both her hands in his mouth and squealing.
I shook my head and smiled. Elle was becoming a poster child for a daddy’s girl.
We’d been back in our own house for months now, since the week after Laine died. I hated to leave the Farm, but we needed to be back in our own places and back in the real world. Our protective bubble was no more. Laine’s passing had forced us all to step back into reality and leave our magical realm where each moment was full of laughter and love.
Those days had often contradicted the impending doom that lay ahead. Even though we had all clung to a desperate hope for a miracle that never came, they remained some of the most treasured times of my life. Those days had also changed me. No, change was not a large enough word. This last year had transformed me. Every moment of every day was no longer about me and my wants and needs. I never realized how selfish I was until the year Laine was dying. Oh, I would do anything for Laine or Ella Rae, even before then. But I always examined every angle of a situation to assess what I could get out of it. What was in it for me? My thought process had certainly changed the past year. For the first time in my life, I felt like a grown-up.
The Secret to Hummingbird Cake Page 22