Softly and Tenderly

by Sara Evans

  Jade rounded a corner and arrived in a dark downtown Paducah neighborhood. Maybe she should turn around? How’d she get on this one-way street?

  “Lorelai and Gus were here tonight, and—”

  “Max, please. For now, I don’t want to know. I want to live, for a few days, in a pretend world where my husband is faithful and honest. Where he doesn’t have a firstborn son without me. Because in my real world, none of that is true. In the real world, my mama is dying. In the real world, I have a shop with a big hole as the front door.”

  “So I can’t to talk to you? My wife?”

  “Max, you’re doing it again. Putting the success of us going forward on me. You’re upset, so you want to talk to me. Pardon me, but I don’t want to hear it. Sheesh, Max, how did you ever manage to keep Asa a secret for the last year and a half, dear?”

  “It wasn’t easy. Do you want me to say it? I was a jerk. A world-class jerk. Someone hand me the trophy.”

  “Check Rebel’s office. I think it’s in there.” Either from the cold or the confrontation, Jade wasn’t sure, but her legs began to tremble. The streetlights blended with the burnt amber glow firing up in her mind. Purple colored her emotions, and the Paducah streets began to narrow. A veil of anxiety eased down on her head. Weight from the unknown settled on her next heartbeat. She gripped the Caddy wheel tighter.

  “You’re making me pay for what Dad did to Mom.”

  “Now that’s laughable. First you blame Dustin, now you blame your dad. No, Max.” Jade held her phone right up to her lips. “I blame you. This. Is. All. You.”

  “Stop screaming.”

  “And stop trying to manipulate me into coming home, deflecting the fact that you brought this on.” The trembling worsened. Jade whipped the car into a parallel slot next to a park.

  “Excuse me for wanting you to come home and work this out with me.”

  “Max, I’ve been there for you; don’t you dare imply I haven’t been. I’ve looked the other way on your pill problem because it seemed to me that marriage is about commitment, sickness and health, for better or worse. And I loved you.”

  “So the stakes go up and you run?”

  “Let me finish. You’re the one who changed the game. Not me. So far, most of our marriage has been about you, what you want, children—”

  “Who spent money to buy the River Street store? And was happy to do so? Who spent weekends going to estate sales with you, gladly?”

  “Who went to benefits and banquets for Benson Law clients and business acquaintances? Who wanted children desperately, yes for me, but also for you? I wanted you to be happy, to have the family you wanted.”

  “You want a family as much as I do, if not more. Jade, come home. You should know Lorelai and Gus—”

  Jade pressed End and tossed her phone to the far side of the big Caddy’s front seat. Enough. She didn’t want to listen. Neither did he. This conversation could go on all night. Until the radio waves from the phone fried her brain.

  For all his great qualities, Max could be so obtuse about people. Did she have Welcome imprinted on her forehead? Come in, walk all over me. Her phone rang and lit up. Jade stretched across the seat and snatched it up, silencing the ringer.

  Sitting under an amber streetlight, Jade shifted into Park. The night cold draped around her shoulders. She’d heard something about spring snow flurries on the Weather Channel as she had exited the lobby. Reaching down under the dash, left of the wheel, she pressed the power button for the top.

  The cold seeping beneath her skin, Jade hit the heat sliders and revved the idling engine. The trembling in her legs had crept into her torso. But she didn’t need to call Daphne to understand the nervous river flowed from within.

  Closing her eyes, Jade touched the praying hands medallion and listened to the memory of Paps’s voice as he tied it around her neck when she was eight years old. “Jesus is always with you.”

  The motor for the top crunched and whirred to a stop. Jade glanced up as she swerved around. The top was stuck, looking like a lazy canvas wink. “No, no, no, come on.”

  She hit the switch again. The motor groaned and whirred, then grunted to a stop, leaving the top sticking a foot out of its bed, mocking her.

  “Oh, come on. Work, you, you, you, man-car.”

  Jade switched the button on. Nothing. Off. On. Nothing again. No sound, no motor groan, no movement. “Oh come on.” She hit the switch over and over, on, off, on, off.

  She jumped into the backseat and leaned on the top. “You can’t win. I won’t let you beat me.” Leaning did nothing, so Jade grabbed hold and pulled, using her full body weight to free the top from its frozen mechanics. “Up, up, up, you stupid thing.”

  Nothing doing. The crazy thing didn’t budge. Jade’s fingers slipped and she toppled backward over the front seat. Muttering, she crawled behind the wheel and jimmied the switch. The motor started. She exhaled relief. “Now you’re talking.” The top moved. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

  With a grunt, the motor froze. “No!” She was on her feet, leaping over into the back. The canvas wink just grew a half foot.

  “You’re going up or going down, but you’re not staying like this.” Jade pulled, then pushed, yanked, then mashed. The top was winning.

  She was warm now, but the trembling hadn’t subsided. Voices coming from the darkness nabbed her attention. Shoving her hair from her face, Jade peered between the shadows and street light. Three teenage boys strolled toward her.

  This wasn’t good. In fact, she was downright stupid for being caught like this. Was she in a bad part of town? Did Paducah have a “bad part of town”?

  The boys strolled closer. She could hear dark, fowl words followed by dark, fowl laughter. Jade grabbed the top again and leaned back with her whole body, grunting and tugging. Not one budge or eek from the hinges.

  “Stupid, stupid top.” She let go with a scream.

  “It’s broken.” The boys gathered around the Caddy’s trunk.

  “Gee, you think?” Jade was too riled to be afraid, so for once, fear found no footing. Frustration and anger emboldened her. Just let them try something.

  She’d pummel them. Her pulse vibrated in her neck. Her abs were so taut she labored to breathe.

  “The hydraulic line is probably busted. Ain’t no way you’re getting the top up without crawling under the car.”

  Balling her hands into fists, tipping back her head, Jade howled at the night. “I . . . have . . . had . . . enough! And I’m not going to take it anymore.” Her piercing, high scream rolled up from the depths of her being and fired from her throat with all the force of her being. She beat the air with her fists. Stomped her feet on the wide, white seat.

  The boys scrambled backward. “She’s crazy, man.” The boys huddled, looking ready to run.

  “I’m crazy.” She barked at them like her German Shepherd Roscoe used to do when strangers came to the door. “And I bite.” Jade lunged at the boys.

  They tried to scatter, but tripped into each other, arms raised in defense. “Hold on, lady—”

  “Go home. What are you doing out this late anyway?” Jade lunged at them again. “Go, go, go—”

  The teens shuffled across the pavement, dashing into the park without a backward glance.

  A light flicked on in a second-story window. A silhouette of a man appeared.

  “What are you looking at?” she hollered, but in the absence of rushing adrenaline, reality set in. The top was broken. Jade tugged on it again, falling back over the front seat, breaking two fingernails this time.

  “I have had enough!”

  A dog barked.

  “Yeah? Same to you, Fido.” Jade scrambled onto the top of the backseat. “If you’re not going up, you’re going back down.”

  She began to mash and jump on the top, leaning, shoving, pressing, crunching the metal ribs under the canvas.

  Jump. For Max.

  Jump, jump. For Asa.

  Jump, jump, jump. For lo
sing three babies in two years.

  Jump. For June.

  Jump, jump, jump, jump. For Mama dying.

  Jump, jump, jump.

  On the last jump, her ankle gave way and she tumbled forward, crashing into the backseat. Lying there, this side of defeated, she stared at the starless sky.

  Under her feet, the winking top was wounded, bent and cockeyed, but still sticking a foot or so out of its bed. Jade had created a wind sail. Driving on the highway would be torturous. If not impossible.

  Tumbling in behind the wheel, tears swelling in her eyes, Jade pressed her forehead against the smooth, round metal. “Jesus, I give up. I give up.”

  How did she get here? How did she get here? Hand on the gearshift, Jade mashed the brake, about to shift into Drive . . .

  She sat up with a jerk. Did Max . . . ? No, he wouldn’t be that manipulative, would he? She snatched her phone from the seat, powered it on, and dialed. Waiting for him to answer, she reached down to massage her right ankle.

  “Jade, I’ve been trying to call—”

  “Tell the truth. No lie this time. Asa. He’s why you’ve been pushing to get pregnant, isn’t it?”

  “What? Jade . . . no . . . we both want children. Why would I—”

  “Do not lie to me, Maxwell. When I said I wanted to wait, that each miscarriage was more painful than the last, all you did was nudge me and prod me, trying to woo me into thinking the sooner we got pregnant, the sooner I’d forget the last child.”

  “Where’s the lie, Jade? It’s true, if you got pregnant—”

  “Only to lose the baby again? I’ve tried to talk about a life with just the two of us, without children, but you refused. It was always ‘We’re going to have a baby, Jade’ or ‘Let’s run down to the Jiffy Mart and pick up a kid or two.’”

  “Am I going to have to defend everything I say and do from now on? And I never referred to adoption as the ‘Jiffy Mart’ of children.”

  “I’m such a dope.” Her sardonic laugh was weakened by a surge of tears. “Such . . . a dope. I believed you were the one, my happily ever after . . . children and grandchildren . . . goofy family portraits taken up on Eventide Ridge, barefoot and smiling, looking alike in stupid white tops and jeans . . . growing old together.”

  “I want all of that with you. Jade, I married you. I love you. I want you.”

  “Max, yes or no. It’s a simple question with a simple answer.”

  “It is neither and you know it. It’s a trap question.”

  “It’s all so clear now. You pushed for children, a son expressly, to cushion the blow when you finally had to tell me you had a child with Rice.”

  “Jade?” His signature heavy sigh communicated his frustration. She imagined his angular, handsome face molded by a tense expression.

  “Yes or no?”

  “Would you stop making everything so black or white?”

  “Yes or no.”

  “Listen to me—”

  “Yes or no! You’re such a coward. And your lies are making the hole deeper. You wanted to get your wife pregnant to hide your illegitimate son. Did you come up with that one on your own, or did your dad offer a few suggestions?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Fair.” She lifted her chin so the pooling tears ran down the side of her face. “You think fair is anywhere near this situation? For me? Or Asa? It’s one thing to not tell me about Vegas, another not to tell me about your son. But it’s evil to emotionally manipulate me to help your cause.”

  “I want children with you. How many times do I have to say it? I’ve always wanted children with you. Asa or not, I’m ready for a family. With. You.”

  “Yes or no. You were pushing to have a son close to Asa’s age . . . to cushion the news. Whenever it came.”

  Sigh. “Jade?”

  “Yes or no, Counselor.”

  “Yes, yes . . . There. Yes. Happy?”

  No. Not at all.

  Fourteen

  The news of the broken top didn’t amuse the mother-in-law. In fact, she had a conniption in the middle of the Comfort Suites parking lot.

  “What were you thinking, Jade? My car, my dear pink convertible, a gift from my daddy.”

  “I was trying to get the top up.” Then down, but really, it was all the same to June.

  “So you mangled it?” June flicked her hand toward the canvas top, her expression wind-tunnel tight. “How was jumping on the top going to get it up? Where are we going to find someone in Paducah, Kentucky, to fix it? You just don’t run down to Pep Boys and pick up a new ’66 Cadillac convertible top.”

  “Now you’re just talking down to me.” Jade tucked her hands under her arms and shivered against the nip in the air. She’d left her jacket back in the room while they had breakfast. While she broke the news to June.

  “Well, if you act like a two-year-old, then don’t be surprised when you’re treated like one.”

  “Jade, tell us again what happened.” Mama stepped in between, hands up. She’d become quite the peacemaker in her illness. Dark circles traced the pale skin around her eyes. When she breathed, her chest rattled a bit.

  “Once again, I couldn’t sleep. I went for a drive. I put the top down. I wanted to put the top back up, but the motor malfunctioned. I thought I could force it. My friend Margot’s car has a manual release on her top.”

  “Well, did you see a manual release? You can’t just ram it up or down, Jade.” June gestured wildly with her hands. “How are we going to get to Iowa now?” She folded her arms and leaned toward Jade with her eyes wide as if expecting a brilliant answer.

  “I had the front desk reserve a rental car for you and Mama. A Cadillac, if you must know. Which I’m paying for.” Jade pressed her hand to her chest.

  “Oh?” June lowered her attitude, her blue eyes offering an apology. “Well then.”

  “I’ll drive your Caddy to Prairie City.” Never mind that the day dawned gray and icy, and the Weather Channel confirmed a spring snowstorm threat from Kentucky to Nebraska. “Linc will know someone who can fix the car.”

  “And who is Linc?” June asked.

  “My handyman. A dim bulb, but reliable,” Mama said. “Used to go around with Willow.”

  “This isn’t any old car, y’all.” June walked the length of the Cadillac, touching the side lightly with her fingertips. “You can’t just drive it to the shop and say, ‘Fix it.’”

  “I said we’ll find someone to get it fixed.” Jade checked her emotions. She hadn’t slept much. The call with Max clung to her for hours. “You want it in writing?”

  “I believe I do.” June made a face and tipped her head to one side.

  “All right, enough.” Mama flashed her palms at Jade and June. “You’re both edgy and tired. June, you know Jade will get the car fixed better than new.” Mama walked around the trunk and touched Jade’s arm. As she did, the pickup van from the rental car company pulled up to the hotel. “Jade, we’ll see you at home.”

  To: Willow Ayers, Aiden Fitzgerald

  Taking Mama to Prairie City. She looked very tired and sickly today. Arrange to come home soon. More later. Much more.

  Love, Jade

  Who is about to drive to Iowa, in a convertible Cadillac. With the top down. Long story. Even though it’s nearly April, snow is predicted. And that’s just the beginning.

  Sent from my iPhone at 9:30 a.m.

  Jade saw the girl almost the moment she pulled up to the light just under the I-24 overpass. She stood at the beginning of the ramp onto the northbound highway with her thumbs hooked over the waistband of her low-rise jeans, one foot jutted forward, the wind blowing open the front of her unzipped fatigue jacket. A duffel bag sat at her feet.

  For a hitchhiker, she appeared to be well groomed, in her early twenties, pretty with long blonde hair, frayed bell-bottoms, and a reddish brown headband wrapped around her brow.

  Something about her captured Jade. Had she seen her before? In the hotel maybe? Wouldn’t she r
emember? She was tired, but not that tired.

  The girl turned toward Jade with a jerking motion, as if she’d just discovered she was being watched. Jade ducked behind the wheel, cracking her chin against the chrome trim. Slowly, she eased up to peek above the dash.

  The hitchhiker faced forward again, and Jade returned to her position behind the wheel, rubbing her chin. She was starting to hate this car. Watching the girl for another second, Jade realized she wasn’t actually thumbing. Just standing. Waiting. As if for a specific person.

  “Hey, lady!” A white utility van passed her at the light, turning west off the exit ramp. “Lady . . .” The driver leaned out his window. “It’s going to snow. Ain’t convertible weather. Your top is down.”

  “Aren’t you a funny one?” Jade twisted around, rising out of the seat, snarling. “Nice work, van. Glad your Harvard degree is working out for you.”

  He responded with a rude gesture. Jade plopped down square in the seat. Have a nice day to you too. It’s none of his business if she’s driving with the top down. But no, he has to yell his pea-brain opinion as he goes by?

  The driver in the car behind Jade laid on the horn. The light was green.

  Jade punched the gas, and the old Caddy surged forward, rocking from side-to-side, slow at first, then surged forward with a burst of speed. The hurried driver behind Jade rode right up on her tail.

  But as Jade passed the hitchhiker, she slowed and glanced over. For an instant, their eyes met. The girl smiled and gave Jade a thumbs-up. “Groovy car.”

  Groovy. Jade faced the windshield, her heart exploding. She’d never heard anyone use that word seriously but Mama. Hands on the wheel, she twisted back around, trying for a final glimpse of the girl as the Caddy barreled off the ramp onto the highway.

  I know her. I know her. Swallowing, brushing her hair from her eyes, Jade stared straight ahead, out the windshield.

  The impatient little car honkity-honked and whipped around Jade into the passing lane. What was wrong with people?

  Cold air filled the Caddy’s open chassis, swirling around Jade’s head and feet. She was going to need to stop for more clothes. And gloves. Definitely gloves. Where’d she put the toque June had brought?