by Mary Manners
A sob escaped her lips, and her hands trembled as she rinsed shampoo from her matted hair. It had been hard enough to go the first time, ten years ago, but now it almost hurt to think of leaving. Who would braid Susie’s hair? Who would talk Carly through a crisis? She turned off the shower and reached for a towel. How much longer could she run toward the past and away from the future?
****
Shane knew he had to keep her mind off tomorrow. The meeting at the funeral home had been a gut punch for both of them, but Jade had felt the brunt of it, for sure. He saw the strain in her eyes; they were glassy, dazed, and the brilliant green, usually the color of early-spring grass, looked more like the faded hue of late-autumn.
Her mother had planned ahead, mapped things out pretty carefully and thoughtfully. There wasn’t much they had to consider, since her wishes were clear. That should have been a comfort, but instead it was obvious Jade felt like her mother had given up, accepted death without putting up much of a fight. It was a hard pill to swallow, and nothing Shane said seemed to ease her pain. So he intended to keep her busy, wear her out so she’d sleep through the night, at least. Tomorrow, the funeral was surely going to be a real test of her will.
Late-afternoon sunshine streamed through tall oaks that flanked the parking lot of the funeral home as they made their way to Shane’s Jeep. He dug the keys from his pocket and unlocked the passenger door for her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said as he slipped into the Jeep on the driver’s side.
“What? Oh!”
“You OK? You seem miles away.”
“Just...thinking about everything.” She tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears instead. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m like a broken record with all this crying. I just can’t seem to stop.”
“No need to.” He turned to her and gathered her into his arms. “You can lean on me, you know.”
She murmured into his T-shirt, “I’m afraid.”
The words startled him, and he drew back to see her eyes. “Afraid of what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. It’s just...I’m so used to figuring things out on my own. What if I don’t know how to lean on someone?” She sighed as he drew her close once again. “Everyone I care about always seems to leave—my dad and now Mama. It just doesn’t seem fair.”
Shane inhaled the clean scent of her hair and felt her heartbeat echo his. He knew all about loss. Once he was afraid, too. But his faith had chased the fear away. He wished Jade could know the contentment of such a faith and the power of the trust and hope that came with it.
“It’s going to be OK,” he whispered gently. “Don’t be afraid.”
Cars rushed along the road beyond the parking lot as late-afternoon faded to early-evening. Shane smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed a tear from her cheek.
“The daycare will be closing soon. Let’s swing by to get Susie then we can grab a bite to eat together. I know she’ll be glad to see you.”
“But surely she must miss you. She hasn’t seen you since yesterday afternoon. Why don’t you take me home first and then go to get her so she can have some time alone with you?”
“No way. She’ll tar and feather me if I don’t bring you with me. She’ll be thrilled to see you.” He slid the key into the ignition and cranked the engine. When it hummed to life he eased the Jeep into drive and headed toward the highway before she had time to protest. “I’m sure she’s missed you, too.”
“I don’t know. I’m just a blubbering mess. I don’t want to upset her.”
He steered with one hand and reached over to squeeze her hand with his other. “You won’t.”
When they strode into the red brick daycare building together half an hour later, the joyful squeals of children filled the air. As they rounded the corner to a large playroom, Susie saw them. She dropped the doll she was playing with and leapt into Shane’s arms.
“Oh, I missed you, Daddy!” She brushed her forehead against his, then promptly leaned over and kissed Jade’s cheek. “And I made you a picture.” She pressed a piece of construction paper into Jade’s hands. “It’s a rainbow. Do you remember when we read about Noah? He gave us a rainbow so we’d remember God’s promise.”
“Yes, I remember. Oh, honey, it’s beautiful.” Jade ran her fingers over the colorful spray of crayon. “Thank you.”
“Don’t cry.” Susie patted her cheek. “It’s supposed to cheer you up.”
“Oh, it has.” She gathered the sweet girl into her arms. “You are the most precious thing.”
“Mmm, you smell good.” She pressed her face into Jade’s mass of hair. Shane watched their exchange and wished he could do the same. The honeysuckle scent had driven him crazy all afternoon. She seemed to have a never-ending supply of hair scents. “My tummy’s hungry. Can we go to McDonald’s?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of pizza.” Shane was thankful for the diversion. “We can order a cheese and pepperoni pie to go and take it to Jade’s house.”
“Can we watch a movie together?”
“Sounds like a plan. We’ll check out the movie rentals and see what’s new this week.”
Jade didn’t protest. Instead, glad for the company, she pressed her cheek to Susie’s and sighed.
Mended Heart
10
“Would you like more tea?” Claire asked. Steam rose from the stainless steel teapot she held over Jade’s mug.
“Please.” Jade kicked off low-heeled black pumps and tucked her feet up under her. She relaxed into the couch and reached for a throw pillow. Weariness seeped deep into her bones as she watched Claire refill her mug. The sound of water running in the kitchen sink lulled her.
Mrs. D’atello washed dishes. Her rich alto voice soothed Jade’s frazzled nerves, and she let her eyes slide closed to rest. She heard the murmur of Carly’s voice as she stood beside her grandmother, helping to dry and put away the plates and coffee cups they’d used.
The two were angels, for sure. They’d come early that morning to help her get ready to bury Mama. Mrs. D’Atello had buried a son and both her parents during the past year, Jade had learned. The woman knew grief and understood as well as anyone could. Following the funeral, she and Carly had come back with her to prepare food and receive all of Mama’s friends who came to the house to honor her and pay their respects.
The funeral...Jade was overwhelmed by the people who turned out at the small chapel in South Knoxville. She had no idea the number who called her mother friend. Women from Mama’s weekly Bible study class, nurses who’d cared for her in the cardiac unit of County General following her heart surgery, neighbors from down the street that Mama had brought vegetables from her garden to over the years, and people from Celebrate Recovery, where Mama had led a women’s Bible study...the list went on and on. They spoke so highly, so fondly of Mama. The lives she’d touched during the years Jade had been away...she could hardly comprehend.
She tried not to think of Mama’s phone calls and the letters she’d sent over the past few years. For the longest time after Jade left for college, she hadn’t spoken to Mama. A year had passed, then two, three, and her graduation from college without so much as a phone call or letter. Not even a Christmas card.
And then one day, out of the blue, Jade came home to find a postcard in the mailbox. Mama had scribbled a brief message, I love you, Jade. Nothing more. The memory shamed Jade because, overcome with rage, she’d ripped the card into shreds and tossed it into the trash. Mama didn’t love her. She must be on one of her drunken bents.
But the postcards continued to come, and then letters, too. After the first, Jade stopped ripping them up. Instead, she stacked them, unopened, into a pile in the kitchen cabinet and forgot about them.
Until one day when Claire was up from Knoxville for a visit. While searching through the cabinets for coffee creamer, she found the stack of letters.
“What in the world...?” She pulled the letters out and dumped them on the
kitchen table. “Jade, there have to be a hundred envelopes here, all unopened. How long has your mom been sending them?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged but inside was mortified to see the pile of letters scattered across the table top. Had Mama really sent that many? “What does it matter?”
“You haven’t opened a single one.” Claire studied a postmark. “This is dated two years ago.”
“Give me that.” Her address was scrawled across the front in Mama’s tilted script; she was left-handed. She tossed the envelope back onto the table. “Just put them all back where you found them.”
Claire’s eyes registered shock. “Did she really hurt you that much?”
“You know she did. You were there, remember?”
“Yes, I was. But maybe she’s changed.”
“Maybe she hasn’t.”
“You should at least open the letters, try to find out.” She picked up another envelope. “Here, she sent this one last month.”
Jade crossed her arms and lifted her chin, ready to battle. “No. Put it down.”
Stubborn as ever, Claire backed toward the doorway and tore open the envelope. She began to read in a lilting voice with a strong Southern accent:
My Sweetest Jade,
I hope this letter finds you well. One of the neighbors brought me an article from the Chicago Tribune that listed you as Elmwood Elementary School’s Teacher of the Year. I’m so proud of you, honey. I always knew you’d be a good teacher. Remember how you took such good care of your dolls when you weren’t much more than a baby doll yourself?
I’ve planted my spring garden with sunflowers along one border to attract the birds. I love to hear them sing through the open windows in the morning. I wish you could see it. The vegetables are beautiful.
I found this verse during Bible study and thought you might like it:
—Hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what
he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet
have, we wait for it patiently.—
-Romans 8:24-25-
I can’t believe so many years have passed since I’ve seen you. I love you, sweetheart.
Mama
As Claire finished, Jade’s eyes filled with tears. She did have vivid memories of playing with her dolls when she was very young, before Daddy died and things went awry. Then the dolls had been put away, replaced by real responsibilities like finding food for a meal and cleaning up Mama after one of her live-in boyfriends used her for a punching bag.
“She’s in a Bible study.” Claire waved the letter in the air. “She’s planted a garden.”
“I don’t care.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You have to let go of the past.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I can’t. Not yet.”
“Then, when?”
Jade shrugged. “I don’t know.”
But in that moment, as she scooped the letters from the table and stuffed them back into the cabinet, something in her heart began to change, to soften. How had the months turned into years, and the years into nearly a decade? How much more time did she have to resolve the heartbreak that seemed like an anchor drawing her down into the depths of the ocean of lost childhood dreams? What if Mama had, by some miracle, changed? Could she live with never knowing?
A few weeks later she sat down to write Mama a letter of her own. Soon after, Mama phoned. The first conversations were stilted and painfully awkward, but gradually they both grew more comfortable. Jade was planning a visit when Mama had her heart attack. That sealed the decision to return home.
Her mind returned to the memorial service. As each guest came through the receiving line to offer condolences, they shared fond memories of Mama with her. Through them, she gained insight into her mother and was comforted. A simple black and white photo sat on a table beside the casket that was decorated with a generous lavender spray. Flower arrangements were scarce, as Mama had requested donations to the local Celebrate Recovery program instead. Jade had never heard of this program, and had questioned Shane, who seemed to know a lot about it, at length. He promised to take her to see what it was all about when things settled down.
She watched him chase Susie across the grass in the front yard. The child had been caged at the chapel and then the cemetery most of the day. She needed to burn off some energy. Squeals of laughter pealed in the air as her delicate powder-pink crinoline dress floated on the breeze. Shane caught her and swept her into his arms before hoisting her across his broad shoulders for a ride down the driveway. She wrapped her legs around his neck like a little monkey and flapped the tie he’d loosened like reins. Jade marveled at how much she looked like Shane’s mom.
Jade knew because his mother had come through the receiving line just a few hours ago. It was the oddest thing. Mrs. Olesky, the heavyset woman with soft gray eyes from Mama’s Bible study, was hugging Jade and murmuring her condolences when a tall, thin woman, her back ramrod straight, strode through the double doors at the rear of the chapel. She paused to remove white dress gloves, the kind Jade had only seen women wear in the black-and-white movies she’d watched with Mama long ago. Shane’s back stiffened when his gaze fell on her. To Jade’s surprise, when the woman came toward her he jumped to his feet and stepped between them like a lineman guarding the star quarterback.
“What are you doing here?” Shane’s voice traveled through the somber room. His eyes searched for Susie, found her with Carly in the hallway through double glass doors, and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he refocused on the woman. “If you’ve come to make trouble...”
“Nonsense. You think so little of me, son?” Jade watched their hushed exchange. As the woman slipped a sleek black Gucci purse from her shoulder and moved forward in the receiving line, Shane’s eyes narrowed with resentment...protection. He was suddenly a papa bear guarding his cub. She’d never seen this intensity in him with anyone but Susie.
“Please. Don’t make a scene.” Steel filled Shane’s voice. “I know what you did, and what Dad did, too. I know. And I think you should leave.”
Her chin rose in a manner that screamed wealth and control. “Let me pass. I’d like to pay my respects.”
“Just leave us alone.”
She raised one hand with a flourish. When she spoke, her diction was perfect. “Us? Is there an us? Please, enlighten me.”
Jade stepped forward then, as if in a dream, and offered a hand to the woman. “Hello, I’m Jade McAllister. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Shane’s mother, Marjorie Calkin.” Her lips pressed into the thinnest line of a smile. She grasped Jade’s hand with cool fingertips. Her nails were long and perfectly polished in an expensive French manicure. Delicate gold rings and diamonds graced each bony finger, and an elegant pearl bracelet matched the necklace that adorned her shoulders.
“Thank you for coming.” Jade breathed in the scent of her perfume, which seemed to permeate the room now. It was some kind of heavy and expensive variety, one she’d never find on a shelf in Mama’s bathroom.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, dear.”
“You knew my mother?”
She cleared her throat. Her smile turned grim. Her mouth was painted with the reddest shade, and deep wrinkles above her upper lip indicated she was once, if not still, a smoker. “Years ago. Your father worked for my husband.”
“He did?” Jade turned to Shane. “Were you aware of this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just found out, too.” His eyes were heated, stormy, as they remained locked with his mother’s. “Your mom told me the last time I came to mow.”
“She did? Oh.” Something didn’t add up and Jade struggled to make the pieces fit, but her head felt suddenly oh-so-foggy. She was tired, so tired. She placed a hand on Mrs. Calkin’s shoulder. Her neat black pencil dress was of the finest linen, smooth beneath Jade’s touch. The matching leather pumps on her feet were impeccable. “Pl
ease, tell me what you know about my father. He died when I was very young. My mother never spoke of it much, and most of the people here today never knew him. They all became friends with Mama...later on.”
Mrs. Calkin’s blue eyes, the same deep shade as Shane’s, softened and she patted Jade’s shoulder gently. “Not today, dear. There are a lot of people waiting to see you.” She motioned behind, at the line of friends patiently waiting to offer condolences. “Perhaps another time. Shane can bring you to the house for dinner. That would be lovely.”
“Oh...well...” Jade’s head swam. The room began to spin and when she sighed heavily Shane steadied her with a gentle hand at her elbow.
“Easy, there.” His voice was low and soothing. He turned away for a moment. “Claire, bring some water, please.”
“I really must go now.” Mrs. Calkin’s voice came from far away. “I’m so sorry for your loss, dear.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She heard Mrs. Calkin’s shoes sweep the carpeted floor as she retreated toward the hallway.
Then Shane ushered her to a seat, and Claire handed her a paper cup filled with cool water. While she sipped Claire and Shane exchanged hushed whispers. Soon the haze cleared from her head, and she stood to greet the next visitor.
“Hey, there.” The voice startled Jade back to the present. She looked up to find Carly standing over her. “I brought you some chicken noodle soup.” She set a bowl on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch beside her. “Grandma made it this morning.”
“Thank you, but I’m really not hungry.” Her stomach had been turning cartwheels all morning. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“Or maybe you’re just plain stubborn.” Carly propped a hand on one hip and leveled a censuring look at her. “Shane told me to make sure you eat. You’re gonna get me in hot water with him if you don’t.”