Softly and Tenderly

by Sara Evans

  Max peered out the barn door. Beyond the edge of the lawn, Jade was running in her skirt with Willow and Dustin chasing after her. Mourners began to cluster on the lip of the lawn.

  “Mom.” Max glanced around for her while tugging his Mercedes keys from his pocket. “Watch Asa.”

  Running stole her air but gave her some sense of being. Her heartbeat roared in her ears and shoved all the air from her fiery lungs. Twice she’d stumbled and twisted her ankle. But she couldn’t stop . . . the darkness would win.

  Beneath her skirt, her feet kicked, striding, and her hands pumped at her side, the scenario fixed in the gray plane of Jade’s mind.

  Footsteps hammered the pavement behind her. She fell again, face-first, into the pavement, screaming. Yet the sound in her throat never escaped her lips.

  Jade. Stop. Jade-o.

  Gripping the air, she struggled to her feet. Run or the darkness will devour you. Then she heard it. A clear, pure voice slicing through the confusion and darkness.

  I AM home. Come to Me.

  She’d taken one step when a firm hand grasped her arm and whipped her around. “Jade, whoa, hold up, it’s me, Dustin.” He held her chin, his eyes trying to capture hers. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

  She tried to break free, but his grip bit into her flesh. “Let me go, Dustin.” She huffed, gulping in all the air she could. Dustin’s fragrance of soap and cologne burnt her nostrils. “Let me go.”

  The darkness was catching her. Where was the voice? Its clarion sound?

  Burnt amber filled her senses. The swirling purple chained her ankles to the ground, then slithered up her legs and reached for her arms. She twisted with a huff. “Let me go, Dustin, let me go. I can’t breathe.”

  But he refused. “Jade, stay with me . . . it’s okay . . .”

  “I can’t feel myself, Dustin. Not my face, or my feet, just darkness, colors, evil colors . . . please, can you see me? Is my face there?”

  “Yes, every beautiful part of you is there. Your face, your feet. Breathe with me. Deep inhale . . . exhale. Think peace. You’re fine, Jade. You’re fine. You’re just having a panic attack.”

  “No, no.” Jade gulped. “I’ve had those, Dustin, this . . . this is, is more. Terror. Tell me, please”—she fastened her hands on his arms—“that Mama is with Jesus, Dustin. He’s real, right? Jesus, God? This whole eternal life. Who created Him? Who? I can’t see it . . .” Jade heard herself rambling but couldn’t stop. Her heart began to ache. “Tell me, Dustin.”

  “Your mom is with Jesus. God is very real. He’s love. You can trust Him. Jesus said He is the way, the truth, and the life. Say it with me, Jade.”

  She swallowed, nodding, trying to remember . . . What did he want her to say?

  “Come on, Jade.” Dustin coaxed her.

  “He is”—her eyes followed Dustin’s lips—“the way, the truth, and the life.”

  The declaration inserted the first sliver of peace in her soul.

  “Say it again. ‘He is the way . . .’”

  “The truth, the life. Jesus is the way, the truth, the life. No man comes to the Father but by Him.”

  She repeated the verse again with Dustin, her heartbeat slowing, the burnt amber fading, the purple swirls hissing and letting go, falling away. The fog clouding her mind dissipated. Sensation returned to her hands and feet. She touched and felt her face.

  “How’re you doing?” Dustin searched her eyes. “Better?”

  She inhaled deep and brushed her hand over her damp forehead, shoving her bangs aside. “Yes, better. Better.” The burn in her lungs began to cool.

  She smiled at Dustin as Max’s Mercedes skidded to a stop. He fired out of the door, leaving the car in the middle of the road with the engine running. “Jade, what happened? Are you okay, babe?” Max stepped around Dustin, slightly shoving him aside.

  “I’m fine, Max.” She peered beyond him at Dustin. “I’m fine.”

  “What can I get everyone? Sandwiches? We have plenty of leftovers. Barbecue, chips, beans and slaw, beer and sodas? Coffee? There’s cake, my stars, enough to feed an army. For a small community, Prairie City can bring out the food.”

  June faced the crew in the living room, hands clasped, smiling. At least she felt like she was smiling, but she just couldn’t stay somber any longer. It was driving her crazy. She had to do something with herself.

  Max stared up the steps, hands on his belt, his back stiff. His signature posture of impatience. “What’s going on up there?”

  “Why don’t you let Daphne and Reverend Teeter speak to Jade, Max? Have you fed Asa since lunch?”

  Daphne, Margot, Max and Rebel, Aiden and Willow remained at the farm, changing their departure plans. Jade’s daddy Harlan had already gone to the airport by the time Jade went running down the road.

  Willow chewed the end of her thumbnail, and Aiden flipped through a magazine that June guessed to be a year old. He got to the end and started over again.

  “What’s going on with her?” Willow glanced from her brother to her brother-in-law to June. Rebel sat somber in the easy chair, hand over his lips. “We can’t just let her sit up there and go crazy.”

  “The reverend is with her, Willow.” June used her well-honed comfort tone. “And Daphne.”

  “She’s been under a lot of pressure,” Margot said. “Let’s give her room, say a prayer.”

  “I haven’t stopped praying.” The whole room stilled at the tenor of Rebel’s confession. June stared. Oh, Reb, you are such a complicated mystery.

  After a second, Margot moved across the room and perched on the sofa next to Willow. “Daph is pretty sure she suffered from depersonalization or something stress related where she disassociated with herself.” Margot peered toward the stairs. “Jade’s strong, y’all, remember. She’ll get through this.”

  June liked Margot. A good, commonsense girl. “Last call for food.”

  Margot slapped her thighs. “I guess I could eat something.”

  “Me too.” Willow stepped over the coffee table. “Leftover barbecue is always good.”

  “I’m going to check on Asa.” Max headed for the basement.

  June brushed his back as he passed. Her boy looked so lost and sad. But the air of the room stirred. Hope filtered in. All with Rebel’s single confession.

  Aiden and Rebel started talking about Alaska, moving toward the kitchen. June paused at the base of the staircase. Lord Jesus. Oh, Lord Jesus.

  The faint cry woke her. Jade sat up, holding on to Mama’s bed with her free hand until the room stopped spinning. Silence rang in her ears. The clock by the bed flashed 3:00 a.m.

  Shaking, she reached for the light, still gripping Granny’s Bible. Her legs and back ached from running down the road in heels. June had bandaged the gash on her knee, but the torn skin throbbed.

  While she felt one with herself again, the memory of what happened this afternoon caused her heart to double-beat and a sick sensation to sting in her belly.

  There . . . the cry again. Jade stepped out of bed, listening. When the cry didn’t repeat, she reclined against the pillows—still fragrant with Mama’s scent—Oil of Olay and White Rain. She wanted to sleep again, escape death and fear, hear the clarion voice, but her senses were awake, disturbing her soul.

  What was it Daphne called it? Depersonalization? Sounded too clinical for Jade.

  “It can happen anytime, to anyone, but it can be triggered by stress.”

  “How long does it last?”

  “Seconds to minutes.”

  “Can it happen again?” Jade caught a whiff of coffee, like Granny used to make. And bacon. She never wanted it to happen again.

  “Can it? Yes. Will it, I don’t know. We can take steps to help you.”

  Tears slid down her temples into her hair. Mama, I need you.

  Dark . . . it all seemed so dark. And vivid. Daphne said the event had only lasted a few minutes, but in her mind it lasted for eternity. The aftershock rippled through her m
ind.

  The wail hit Mama’s room again. Jade bolted off the bed. Thin walls don’t lie. Did a cat get in the house? Clutching Granny’s Bible like a life preserver, Jade cracked open Mama’s door. Darkness filled the hall along with an aching, thick stillness.

  A whimper, followed by a cry, startled Jade’s heart. Asa? Where was Max? She smacked on the hall light and angled over the railing to see down the stairs.

  On the edge of her high-atop view, Jade saw a tiny leg curled under a crumpled body. What in the world? She started down. Max’s son lay crumpled in the middle of living room carpet, sobbing, his tiny shoulders shivering.

  “Hey, now, it’s okay.” Jade knelt beside him, patting his back, slowly pressing her palm down. Her hand nearly covered him. “How’d you get up here?”

  He sat up at the sound of her voice. His face was worn with tears. “Want Mama.”

  Jade smoothed aside his dark, soft bangs, her eyes welling up. “Yeah, me too.” So he’d gone looking for Rice. Escaped the basement. Maneuvered the stairs.

  And she’d escaped the kitchen. Ran down a country road.

  “Come here, baby.” Jade lifted him and he curled into her, shuddering, his small fingers reaching into her hair.

  She molded around him, breathing in his baby skin, rocking back and forth. “You and me, we’re the same, Asa. Two lost souls without our mamas.”

  As she kissed his cheeks, his warm breath brushed the nape of her neck. His eyelids hung heavy as he gathered more and more of her hair into his hand.

  “Your mama had dark hair like mine, didn’t she? She was pretty. And so lively and adventurous. Did you know she was learning to fly a plane? My mama was amazing too. Hitchhiked across the country, went to Woodstock. Well, I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you now, but one day I’ll tell you about Granny Hill. Yes, I said Hill. Beryl Walker Fitzgerald Ayers Parsons Hill. I know, a law firm should be so prestigious. The woman had a string of last names, and she was full of . . . life.”

  Jade rose from the floor and eased into Granny’s old rocker. Max stood in the doorway.

  “Little bugger must have climbed over the basement gate.” He eased into the room, bare chested, with the hem of his flannel pants dragging the floor.

  “I heard him crying. When I came down, he was heaped in the middle of the floor sobbing for his mama.”

  “Guess it takes time, even for the little ones, to deal with death.” Max dropped down next to the rocker and cupped his hand on Asa’s head. “But he’s getting better. Not waking as often, disoriented, looking for her.”

  “Today was about missing mamas.”

  Max shifted his gaze to Jade’s face. “You two are kindred spirits right now.”

  Funny how right and perfect Asa fit into her arms. “What happened today was frightening, Max.”

  “Jade, say the word and I’ll cancel Texas.”

  She rested her head against the top of the rocker. Despite all the pain and confusion of the past weeks, Max’s raw emotion and honesty moved her. She wanted to tip forward and kiss him. “Go, Max. Get help. Asa needs his daddy clearheaded and strong.”

  “What about my wife? Doesn’t she need me?” Max slipped his hand under her hair.

  “Max, stop. You need to come to grips with the reality of broken trust. I don’t hate you, but right now my heart is not safe with you either.” A late tremor from her earlier emotional quake ran through her. “But I am willing, I think, to watch Asa for you, with June’s help. If it’s not too late.” Jade gently kissed Asa, who was now sleeping peacefully in her arms.

  Max rose up on his knees and covered her lips with his, then brushed his hand down her arm.

  Along the first of summer, when spring began to lose its grip on Prairie City mornings and summer breezes circled the afternoons, the word joyful began trumpeting over the shadowy recesses of Jade’s mind.

  Sitting on the Iowa burial mound, Jade watched Asa pedal his Big Wheel through the thick grass. He’d begun to laugh a lot in the last week, and his vocabulary seemed to double every day.

  What was it he said to June last night? Oh, she couldn’t remember and she promised Max she’d record everything. Everything.

  The golden sun hanging over her reminded Jade she’d wanted to plant some marigolds this evening. Just because.

  Deciding to stay in Prairie City for a while shook her sense of order. She had two businesses to run back in Tennessee. A house. Friends. But here on the plain, Jade was learning to be at home with Jesus. No matter what her circumstances.

  Lillabeth’s semester ended, so she took over running the shops. She had Kip on a tight remodeling schedule. He’d called the other night asking Jade to call off her “dog.”

  Instead, she’d called Lillabeth and told her to growl and bark a little louder. She missed the shops. She missed her home. And for the past few days, she’d had a taste for Mae’s cherry pie. But she wasn’t ready to leave yet.

  Asa growled as he aimed his Big Wheel right at her. She curled her body in tight. “Oh no, I’m going to get run over.” He laughed and reverse-pedaled just before running over her foot.

  When they buried Beryl, spring had just begun on the prairie. Now summer’s green painted the horizon.

  Jade spent April and May in counseling twice a week in Des Moines with Dr. Joe. Mostly reconciling her life. Talking out loud helped make sense of it all. But in recent days her inner changes came from her talks and prayers with Reverend Teeter.

  At night, she holed up in her room with her Bible open and other books the reverend recommended. And she’d joined up with the women’s prayer group. Only they called it a prayer furnace—stoking the fires for God. Carla Colter was the leader, and those women were intense about the Lord’s business and praying the Word.

  Asa hopped off his ride and crawled into her lap. This was a new development with him, started about a day ago.

  “Guess what? Uncle Linc is coming by tonight with a doggy. You want a doggy?”

  “Doggy!” Asa punched the air with his fist. “Woof, woof.”

  “That’s right, woof, woof.”

  Mrs. Lanker couldn’t care for her chocolate lab any more, so Linc brought him out to the farm last night after Asa went to bed. Jade fell in love, snapped a picture with her cell, and e-mailed it to Max. He’d get it on Saturday when he went into town.

  “Lunchtime?” June approached, casual and pretty in her khaki capris and white top.

  “I suppose it is.”

  June stayed to help Jade, but now she was going home. After Mama’s funeral, Reb changed. He’d finally agreed to counsel with Reverend Girden. There was a different light behind the lawyer’s eyes. The fear of the Lord.

  “Dustin called.” June handed Asa the juice cup in her hand.

  “Yeah, when?”

  “Ten minutes ago.”

  “I’ll call him after lunch.” Light, airy tone, letting June know there was nothing to worry about.

  “Have you heard from Max this week?”

  “He called a few days ago.” The wind blew stiff with a warm current. “He sounded tired. They work pretty hard. His latest e-mail said he was learning a lot.” Jade peered up at June. “Asa said hi to him, called him Daddy.”

  June sat next to Jade, stroking Asa’s head. “I love the smell of the prairie, but I’m ready to be in the Hollow again. I miss the morning fog clinging to the hills.”

  “And Rebel?”

  June smiled. “We’ll see. So far, so good. And what about you?”

  “We’ll see.” Jade set her chin on her son’s head. “So far, so good.”

  Approaching the brown mound of Mama’s grave nestled in the shade of a maple, Jade held on to Asa’s hand. Tufts of summer’s green grass crept along the base of the tombstone.

  Beryl Hill

  At home with Jesus, finally free.

  “We’ve come to visit your Granny Hill, Asa.” Jade let loose the blanket in her arm, spreading it on the ground beside the stone.

 
The late-afternoon sun kissed her shoulders—she hated being inside on such beautiful days. She gathered her knees to her chest and tipped her face toward the light.

  “Mama, good news: we’ve decided to keep the house, not sell it. At least not yet, anyway,” Jade said to the air. She smiled as Asa scooted his truck over the grass and into the dirt of Mama’s grave.

  “Mama, here. Hold, please.” Asa stuck out his hand, offering Jade his truck. Calling her Mama came from within him. She’d never coaxed him. Neither had June.

  Satisfied his truck was in good hands, Asa climbed onto his small tricycle and reached his chubby legs out to the pedals.

  She’d never tire of hearing her name—Mama.

  If she’d had known what the start of the year would’ve been like, she’d have hidden behind the door of New Year’s Eve and never come out.

  But it was facing the pain, pushing through the heartache, that brought her to this moment of peace. Life had true hope for her.

  Max was doing well at his Texas outpost, but digging up the wells of his past caused him to struggle with dark revelations. He questioned everything. Even his career. So far, he’d not mentioned their marriage. But Jade was glad. She had her own doubts to wrestle down.

  When Max called, though, he sounded strong. His emails were filled with his easy prose, updating her on his progress, signing his notes with a simple, “Love, Max” as if he understood he didn’t deserve her.

  Jade exhaled. She wasn’t sure he did. But no matter, she’d let none of it disturb her peace today as she sat on the mound next to Mama with the wind in her hair. She’d deal with Max when he came home.

  The most surprising thing this year? Asa. How could such joy come out of such bitterness? Only God could do such a thing. When she held Asa the night she’d found him in the living room, she’d been overwhelmed with the sense of wanting to never let go.

  He was her son.

  The crunch of tires over the gravel added notes to the air. Jade tipped her chin north toward the heavens.

  Footsteps swished over the grass and a warm, solid Dustin dropped to the ground next to her. “June said you’d be here.”