Lies and Other Acts of Love

by Kristy Woodson Harvey

  To say that his death was shocking isn’t quite correct. I’m sure to the outside world a man who had been in a chair for years was a prime candidate for death, the Grim Reaper surely lurking in those odd hours of the night. I could almost hear friends saying, “Well, it was a blessing. He had been sick for a long time.”

  But, to me, one minute he was there, breathing, and the next he wasn’t. No cancer. No pneumonia. No heart disease. He was simply tired, and his frail and cumbersome body, which had failed him years earlier, decided to throw in the towel.

  And, without even a moment’s notice, the other part of my soul drifted away on the wings of a shooting star.

  And someone had to tell my girls.

  This is the worst part of being a parent: the honesty. I waited for a while before I called any of them. I made arrangements at the funeral home, scheduled a time for the church service, gathered the sheet music for the songs that Dan wanted played, submitted the obituary that had been prepared for years to the paper, even wrote a part of a eulogy that I knew I would never have the composure to deliver.

  I wanted Louise to enjoy a few more sun salutations in the knowledge that her daddy was right where she left him. I wanted Sally to wallow in the decision between Doug and Kyle a little longer, imagining that her choice would be the hardest thing she would face that day. I wanted Martha to practice consonant sounds with her throng of kindergarteners, that cheerful smile that came from a place of true enthusiasm on her face. I wanted Lauren to fret a little longer over the perfect flowers for the pews of the Presbyterian church at the mercy of her latest bride. And I wanted Jean to feel the strength and support of her father—yes, her father, always her father—behind her on this last day of her campaign.

  But death, as in birth, never comes at a convenient time. No matter how prepared you are that the moment is nigh, no matter how anticipatory you have been, there is never a moment where the realization that this is it, my life is changed forever, doesn’t come as a bit of a shock.

  And then, that’s the thing about having five children. Whom do you tell first? Do you roll the die and see where it lands? Do you go in order of birth? Alphabetically by last name? This time, I decided to start with geography.

  Jean.

  What do you say to your children? How do you soften the blow that their beloved daddy is gone from them forever? And why does a mother bear the burden of having to worry about such things when, for once, she should be allowed a moment to feel her own pain?

  But this is life.

  And so I picked up the phone.

  “Are you okay?” Jean answered breathlessly, and, for a moment, I found myself believing that she already knew.

  “No, darling.” I heard my voice cracking on the phone. It wasn’t intentional, and it was dreadfully uncommon. I never let my children see me cry, always tried to be the steel flagpole in the asphalt that not even a tornado could blow down. Because if you can’t count on your mother to stand tall and be brave in a crisis, who can you count on?

  I took a deep breath, composing myself, thinking of how difficult this was going to be for Jean. “It’s Daddy,” I said. “He’s no longer with us.”

  She gasped, as I knew she would, but she surprised me at how quickly she recovered. “No, Momma,” she said. “He may be gone, but he will always, always be with us.”

  And that’s when I decided. Then and there. Annabelle may have questions, and I may have been the only living person on earth with the answers, but those secrets would die with me. Because more than answers, more than the truth, every child deserves to have a family. So, so many of us don’t get that, one of the paramount blessings in life, but, oh my Lord, don’t we all deserve it?

  My daughter had been unconditionally, indescribably loved by both of her parents and her sisters. And if you asked this old woman, that mattered a hell of a lot more than the truth.

  I could hear the tears in her throat when Jean said, “Do you want me to go to the funeral home and make the arrangements?”

  I shook my head, though she couldn’t see. “It’s already done, darling.” I paused, knowing what I wanted to say, but wondering if it was the wrong choice. But today of all days, I deserved to do something that might not make every member of my family unwaveringly happy. And so I said, “Could you please call the others?”

  “Of course,” Jean said.

  And before I could hang up the phone, I heard a key turning in the lock, and Annabelle, tears streaming down her face, ran to me and hugged me so hard it almost knocked me over.

  “I’m so sorry, Lovey,” she said, over and over again. And I knew logically that she couldn’t know about her grandfather’s passing and instinctively that it wasn’t his death she was sorry about.

  I patted her, my own tears falling down on her bare shoulder and said, “There, there, dear.”

  I pushed her away, and I said what I always said to her mother. “The only thing that matters is that we all know how much we mean to each other. We all know how much we love each other.” I could feel those tears clouding my throat again, thickening it and making it difficult to talk. “So if I hadn’t woken up this morning, you would have known that none of the other mess was important.”

  She nodded and hugged me again. “We all love each other. We are family and how we got that way doesn’t matter a bit.”

  I smiled through my tears. “My feelings exactly.”

  I took her hand and led her to the couch.

  She sighed and said, “I have so many things to tell you, Lovey. And they aren’t good.”

  I shook my head, looking down at my crooked finger, resting on top of her perfectly straight, unlined hand. “Me first, darling.”

  I told her about Dan, and we hugged and cried. As we were sitting, the door flew open again, and I barely took notice because I expected it to be Jean.

  Before I even saw a person, I heard a voice. “I tried to tell you, Annabelle.” Rob stopped in his tracks when he saw both of our tears.

  I didn’t have time to wonder what was going on between them because, not a moment later, Annabelle was saying, “D-daddy is gone,” and Rob was kissing my cheek, saying, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Lovey.”

  Then he turned to Annabelle and said, “How could you not tell me?”

  “I just found out right this second, Rob,” she said, tears and disdain fighting for first place in her voice. “How are you even here so fast?”

  “I followed you, obviously,” he said. “I followed you out of the church and all the way here because I need a chance to explain . . .” He looked over at me and, as if it registered that something even more important than what was happening between he and Annabelle was happening with me, said, “Lovey, I’d like very much to pray for Dan and your family right now.”

  It was as beautiful a prayer as I’d ever heard. I patted his knee when he was finished and said, “That was lovely, dear. I’d like it so very much if you’d assist with the service tomorrow.”

  “No,” Annabelle said firmly, standing with purpose. “Rob has to leave now.” She pointed to the door.

  He stood too, looking down on her, planting his feet and crossing his arms. “I’m not leaving until you let me say my piece.”

  I looked back and forth between the two of them, so confused that I momentarily forgot my sorrow. If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed they were having some sort of lovers’ quarrel.

  “I did try to tell you, Annabelle. I saw them at your house that day when I told you to go home.” He let his arms fall to his sides. “I couldn’t tell you, but I wanted you to know, and that was the only thing I could think of.”

  I could see the sharp points of her body language relax into curves. “Oh.” She paused as though she was thinking. “That is when I found out.”

  I looked back and forth between them again, and, though I wanted to ask more qu
estions, when you’re eighty-eight, it doesn’t take too many letters to solve the puzzle. I hadn’t liked that Laura Anne since the moment I laid eyes on her at that party. And I would have bet my last bottle of scotch that she was after my granddaughter’s husband like a police dog on a drug trail.

  When I saw both Annabelle’s and Rob’s faces shift slightly from angry to relaxed, it was then that I realized that God really does answer all of our prayers, even if He’s saying, “Not right now.”

  Though I had longed, on my knees, for one of my daughters to marry an Episcopal priest, it had never happened. But, I had the sneaking suspicion that God was going to give me another chance with my granddaughter.

  Annabelle

  Perfect Families

  Life is all about being steadfast enough to make a plan and being flexible enough to break it. And that is good because Annabelle the planner had figured out perfectly how she was going to tell her parents and grandparents about the dissolution of her marriage. And Annabelle the planner knew that the blow would be softened a few weeks later by the reunion with Holden, aka, the man of their dreams. It would be horrible and everyone would be talking about it, but they would reason that I was young and scared and now I was just doing what I should have all along. And then one of the women in the neighborhood would be having an affair with her gardener Desperate Housewives–style, and everyone would forget about me.

  What Annabelle the planner hadn’t counted on was D-daddy dying in his sleep. And I hadn’t planned on Rob’s absurd confession of love. And I hadn’t planned on dropping the Ben-affair bomb on Lovey via a fight with Rob in her assisted living apartment. And, most of all, though I had forgiven her outwardly, I hadn’t planned on still being so inwardly angry with Lovey. I couldn’t stand feeling that way toward her when my entire life she had been my main confidant. But wounds take time to heal.

  And that wound that I was so sure had already scabbed over, the devastation of finding out that my marriage wasn’t what I thought it was, had opened again and was oozing all over the place. The hardest part was realizing that I was the only person surprised by the dissolution of what I thought would be my forever.

  When Mom had asked where Ben was right after we found out about D-daddy, I had mumbled something about him having to work.

  She had put her arm around me and said, “So it’s over, huh?”

  I had been so positive that he was the right decision, that we were going to be a family, that our personalities complemented each other so wonderfully. And all my dad could say was, “Oh, honey. We never, ever trusted him.”

  The thought of moving on after realizing that I had been so wrong paralyzed me with fear. I thought I knew best. I thought I was mature and reasoned when it came to love. But I had been neither.

  Sitting in the third row of Saint Andrew’s Church that afternoon, I knew I needed a higher power to help me sort through the avalanche of my life. My handkerchief to my eyes, I waited patiently, thankful that Mom and Lovey had let me forgo the procession, knowing a divorce, a miscarriage and a death in such short order weren’t going to equip me for walking stoically behind a casket. I tried to push away the thought that every person in that jam-packed church was whispering about where my husband was.

  Well, at least the ones who weren’t whispering about Lovey’s best friend Katie Jo parading in with her young boyfriend.

  Cameron, with absolutely no announcement, as usual, slid into the pew beside me and linked her arm through mine. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  I could feel the tears spilling over as I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I’m most sorry that I ever introduced you to Ben. I was wrong.”

  I shook my head. “You weren’t wrong. If I hadn’t tried to steal him from you, all of this would have been happening to you.”

  I winked, and we both stifled a laugh.

  Holden, making like he was genuflecting by my pew, whispered, “I’m so sorry, Ann.” He squeezed my hand.

  I wiped my eyes, shook my head and said, smiling through my tears, “Thanks, Holden.”

  He looked at me sadly, still holding my hand. “You coming home tonight?”

  I nodded, swallowing hard, wondering if a life with Holden could ever feel like home.

  Sitting there in the pew, I longed for a man like D-daddy. A man who was kind and generous, humble and forgiving, faithful and true. A man who knew his values and stuck by them. A man who would give me room to grow to be who I was while trusting me with the truth even when it was hard. That familiar aggravation in the pit of my stomach pinched me again, as I wondered how Lovey could do something so terrible to someone so undeniably good.

  Then the lonely echo of the organ turned to triumphant jubilation. I tried to feel happy that D-daddy was in a better place, free from pain and sorrow and suffering. But it’s so very difficult to feel happy when you are so sad that you won’t be seeing him on earth ever again. My uncles and cousins were carrying the box containing what was once my D-daddy down the aisle with Lovey and my mom and aunts following close behind.

  I don’t know if it was the swell of the organ or the freshness of the suits or the surge of pride at seeing so many people I loved all clumped together like that. But the aggravation and irritation and annoyance were suddenly replaced by the most ecstatic happiness. As I watched little Lovey make her way with so much grace, I realized that there were no perfect people, not even her. But there are perfect families. And in our crazy, mixed-up way, we just might be one of them.

  I glanced toward the altar to see Rob’s gaze on me—he had agreed to Lovey’s proposal that he assist with the service—but he quickly looked away when my eye caught his. Even in this sad circumstance, his eyes meeting mine made my stomach flip, those bubbles of anticipation filling me up. But that summertime feeling was quickly replaced with dread. Because I had done the butterflies thing. And it had gotten me to this, one of the saddest days of my entire life. No white knight, no happily ever after. Ben, Lovey. The people I had thought infallible had failed me.

  Cameron whispered, “I’m aware this is inappropriate, but you know that he’s in love with you, right?”

  “Holden?”

  “No. Rob.” She shrugged. “Not that you should take love advice from me of all people, but you might want to look into that.”

  I shook my head, feeling my eyes burning again. “I’m going back to Holden.”

  Cameron smirked. “I’m not going to argue with you, but you know how I feel about it.”

  I nodded. “It’s just less . . . complicated.”

  I looked up, caught Rob’s eye again and wiped mine.

  Cameron looked at me like I was crazy. “So you don’t even want to explore that?”

  I shook my head.

  It didn’t matter that Rob had been the one that I had laughed and joked with, grown up with. It didn’t matter that he had helped me navigate these intersecting roads of heartbreak just by being there for me, by greeting me every morning with a smile and a laugh and something fun to do. Because now it was time to think with my head.

  I glanced at Rob again, and he turned quickly to defer from my gaze. Then I turned back to look at Holden. He winked at me. He had been there for me when I needed him the very most, I reminded myself. And he had fought for me all this time. The kid deserved a win.

  After the ceremony, I went to Lovey and D-daddy’s house for what I figured would be one of the last times. While a throng of visitors crowded into the living room, dining room and den, I made my way down the hall, opened the linen closet door, and soothed my tear-stained face with one of Lovey’s sunshine pillowcases. I took a few more steps into the empty master bedroom. No Lovey. No D-daddy. No big bed to pile up in and hear bedtime stories. No boxes full of Lovey’s jewelry to play dress-up in. No drawers full of neat stacks of D-daddy’s handkerchiefs. Just emptiness. It was the exact same feeling that I had.<
br />
  I felt a hand on my back, where I was leaning on the doorjamb. I turned to see Lovey.

  “It looks right empty now, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Feels it too.”

  She was strong again, I noticed. Composed and statuesque like always. She had lost the love of her life, and here she was consoling me. “You know, sweetheart. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be okay.”

  I wiped my eyes with the pillowcase again, its softness taking me back to my childhood. “I know. But it’s so hard disappointing everyone when they had these high expectations for me.”

  She laughed, that great Lovey laugh that I will always hear in my ears. “Yeah. But, on the bright side, that first fall is the hardest. Once everyone realizes you aren’t perfect, it’s a good deal nicer to go on with the rest of your life.”

  I smiled, assuming that she had known all about that when she left Ernest Wake for D-daddy. I sighed deeply. “You got awfully lucky, Lovey. Because I followed my heart and now I’m miserable.” I stood up a little straighter like she would do. “Now it’s time to follow my head.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Holden?”

  I nodded and shrugged. “Yeah. It just works, you know? He was even going to raise Ben’s baby as his own. When do you ever find someone who would do that for you?” She looked at me skeptically, and I paused. I wanted to say like grandmother, like granddaughter, but I refrained. “And I mean, I love him.” I stood up straighter. “I do.” Then I sighed. “I’ve thought it through. It makes sense. My head says it’s a good choice.”

  Lovey shook her head. “I can’t make that decision for you. But I have a secret to tell you, sweetheart. It isn’t about your heart or your head.”