Letting Go

by Mary Beth Lee

  “Why wouldn’t she be able to hear me?”

  The question sounded perfectly normal, but Clarissa felt anything but.

  “Miss,” the nurse stopped then moved forward efficiently, an iPad in her hand. “Your mother is in a medically induced coma for now. Her kidneys and liver shut down and that caused her heart to stop working earlier today. We have her on this floor because ICU is full.”

  Clarissa blinked again and held on to the bed’s rail to try to right her world. “What?”

  The nurse looked at her sympathetically.

  “I have some literature that might help you understand what’s going on with your mother. Our patient liaison will be able to help also. The doctor is in the hospital, so I’m sure he’ll be able to visit with you shortly. Is there anyone I can get for you?”

  No. Clarissa bit her lip. No, there was no one.

  Tammy Jo wasn’t pulling a con job. She was sick. Bad sick. The kind of sick you don’t recover from.

  She bent down over the hospital bed and listened to the machines, watched her mother’s chest move.

  “She can hear me? You’re sure.”

  The nurse smiled gently. “We have patients wake up from these states all the time to tell us they heard everything.”

  Clarissa gripped the bed rail tighter.

  “I’ll be right outside the room if you need anything, ok?” the nurse must’ve practiced that look. A perfect combination of sincerity and efficiency.

  Clarissa nodded, then reached out to stroke her mother’s hair and whisper. “Oh, Momma, why?”

  Less than an hour later the doctor explained just how bad Tammy Jo was doing. Her heart, liver and kidneys were failing. An infection raged throughout her body. She’d been unconscious since arriving at the hospital.

  “If there’s anyone you need to call,” the doctor said, and Clarissa heard what he meant. In all likelihood Momma wasn’t making it home this time.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Clarissa didn’t have to look up to know the heavy strides belonged to Jed.

  “Can I do anything?” he asked.

  Clarissa looked at the monitors hooked up to her mother and closed her eyes. When she did, the years of life with Tammy Jo replayed across her memories leaving a trail of anger, then guilt at the first emotion.

  “She would hate this,” Clarissa said. Tammy Jo couldn’t stand being trapped.

  “I’m real sorry, Clarissa,” Jed said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Clarissa resisted the urge to lean into him.

  “I don’t know what I need to do, Jed,” she said, then she bit her trembling lips.

  “We’re here for you, you know that, right?”

  Clarissa knew she should take comfort from his words, but she couldn’t. They were so foreign.

  “I thought…” she stopped talking, remembering the nurse’s words, afraid the truth would hurt her mother. “It doesn’t matter. I’d like to talk to her alone if you don’t mind.”

  Clarissa kept her eyes on her mother’s white face. Tried not to see the machines. Tried to block out their constant whirring and beeping.

  When the room door closed, she brushed her mother’s cheek. “Oh Momma. You’ve really gone and done it this time.

  Whir-beep-whir-beep.

  She reached to the hand that wasn’t connected to an IV. In the recesses of her mind she could remember holding her mother’s hand for real. But most of her memories were tied to a con job. The best part of her childhood cons had been making herself believe her mother really did care, really was worried, really did love her.

  The anger boiled up inside her again, but she held on to her mother’s hand anyway.

  “What are we gonna do this time, Tammy Jo? I bet you’re talking to whoever you can, trying to work out a deal to get through this. The nurse says you can hear me, so you better listen up. You still have a lot of work to do at the Triple Eight, so you need to get better.”

  Clarissa’s voice cracked and she realized she was crying. She wiped the tears from her face, but she didn’t let go of her mother’s hand. Couldn’t.

  “Momma, you gotta get better,” she said. “You can’t just die on me. You’ve got to fight this.”

  For some reason Clarissa thought maybe her words would have an impact, change something in her mother’s response. But nothing changed. Not the machines, not her mother’s sickly face, not the weird antiseptic smell of the room.

  Clarissa closed her eyes and tried to find a peaceful place, but closing her eyes just brought how hateful she’d been to Tammy Jo to light, and that just piled on the pain.

  She patted Tammy Jo’s hand and stood. She’d need to talk to Pete and Bev, make sure her shifts were covered. And she’d need to see if Susie Dillon could bring some lotion or something up to keep Momma’s hands from drying out too much. And she’d need to talk to the doctor again. Try to understand what exactly was wrong and what they needed to do to get Tammy better.

  Behind her one of the machines made a different whirring noise, and an alarm rang out. Nurses streamed into the room, the one who told her Momma could hear her, took her hand and calmly told her she’d have to step out.

  Clarissa shook her head. “No really, it’s okay. I’ll stay over here out of the way.”

  “Ma’am, you have to leave,” the nurse said, this time sternly. “I’ll come and get you as soon as I can.”

  The machines shrieked louder and an urgent call sounded on the PA system. Nurses called out numbers that meant nothing to her. Between two of the people gathered around the bed, Clarissa could see her mother.

  She wanted to go to her, to tell her it was okay. She started to walk forward, but Jed was suddenly there, hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve got her,” he said to the the nurse, and then he pulled her to him in a hug she couldn’t resist even if she’d wanted to.

  He rested his chin on her head and spoke quietly but firmly. “Come on, Clarissa. Let them do their work.”

  In the waiting room the Dillons sat, grave concern on their faces.

  Paul Dillon stood when she walked in. And that’s when Clarissa noticed the others. José and the rest of the crew. Hats in hands, concerned faces.

  “We’ve been praying,” Paul said, and she nodded, said thanks, then looked back at the Triple Eight crew.

  “Thank y’all for coming,” she said.

  José spoke first. “Your momma doesn’t know much about being a farm hand, but she’s done good work, Miss Clarissa.”

  The other men echoed his sentiments and Clarissa didn’t know how to respond. Tammy Jo’s work ethic had never been a strong suit. Suddenly it seemed everything she thought she knew about her momma was in question.

  Susie stood and pulled her into another hug then told her to sit beside her. Jed brought her a cup of coffee. Paul said a prayer about peace and courage and God’s will.

  And all the while Clarissa kept her mind on the room up the hall where doctors and nurses were working on her mother who was dying in a bed hooked up to monitors because her body quit on her.

  Clarissa didn’t know how much time passed before a doctor appeared at the door. It seemed like hours and seconds at the same time.

  “Miss Dye,” the doctor said, and Clarissa and Jed stood.

  “I’m going with you,” Jed said, and she didn’t argue. She didn’t want to go into the private room off the main waiting area alone.

  When the door shut behind them, Clarissa closed her eyes and breathed deep while saying a quick prayer asking God for courage. Maybe he’d answer this time.

  “Miss Dye,” the doctor said gently, “You know your mother’s organs shut down.”

  She nodded. Jed reached out, and she took his hand.

  “What I have to tell you isn’t easy.”

  She clutched Jed’s hand tighter.

  “Your mother died today.”

  Time stopped.

  Clarissa saw the man’s mouth moving, but everything around them blurred.


  She felt herself shaking her head no and wondered what she was answering and why.

  And then everything rushed in at once and she could breathe again.

  The thing she noticed first was that she held Jed’s hand entirely too tightly. Second, the flowers in the room were fake. Third, the doctor’s lab coat looked new.

  “Can I get the hospital chaplain for you?” he asked and Clarissa shook her head. Paul Dillon was in the waiting room. She didn’t need the chaplain. She needed….she didn’t know.

  “Can I see her?”

  The doctor assured her she could then told her they’d take care of everything needed with the funeral home.

  And then he asked her if she was ready to say goodbye.

  Jed walked by her side, and the doctor handed her off to the nurse who’d told her her mother could hear her.

  The nurse patted her hand like she was a child and said she was sorry for her loss then led her into the room where her mother’s body lay motionless on the bed.

  No more machines. No more pain. She was a little paler than before, but other than that, she looked completely at peace.

  “Oh, Momma,” Clarissa bent and kissed her mother’s forehead, then brushed her hair back.

  “Momma,” she said again, her heart breaking this time for what never would be.

  “Goodbye, Momma,” she said, and then she whispered words she hadn’t said in years because they could be used against her. “I love you.”

  “You don’t need to stay in the bunkhouse,” Jed said, but Clarissa wasn’t budging.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m not some fragile, little doll that needs protecting. It’s not going to hurt me to stay in there just because I shared it the last week with my mother.”

  He pulled in front of the big house and stopped the truck. He could be so obstinate sometimes.

  Furious she pushed the truck door open, slammed it shut and started the hike down a gravel road to the bunkhouse.

  “You don’t need to stay out here alone,” he said, and some part of her knew he was only doing what he thought was right. It didn’t matter though.

  She turned on him, anger pouring from her body in waves.

  “I don’t need you telling me what I need or don’t need, Jed Dillon,” she yelled. “I’ve lived on my own my whole life. I don’t need you or anyone else.”

  Only as she said the words she realized something inside her had changed. The Dillons had made her soft. She didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to keep going through the day to day business of life without connections.

  Dangerous. The Dillons were dangerous.

  Jed’s face exuded shared sorrow and worry. “Clarissa, I’m not…”

  “Stop,” Clarissa said, holding out her hand to emphasize the words. “Just stop. You’re not the problem. I get that. I just…I need to be alone now. Okay?”

  “You don’t even have a flashlight,” he said. “If the holes don’t cripple you, a snake might bite.”

  He took the phone out of his shirt pocket, handed it to her. “The flashlight’s under utilities. I’ll get it from you in the morning.”

  Clarissa swallowed her grief and her initial response. She desperately wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she wanted him to walk with her. That she needed him to hold her and tell her it would be okay.

  But she couldn’t give voice to any of that because that kind of thinking would lead to a whole new world of hurt. It wasn’t worth that.

  So instead, she simply said thank you and started up the road to the bunkhouse she’d shared with her mother. She didn’t miss the fact that Jed waited and watched her until she got to the door. He stood alone, a dark silhouette under the moonlit sky and beautiful stars, proof that good men existed in the world.

  Chapter Ten

  Walking into the empty bunkhouse was one of the hardest things Clarissa had ever done. Strange how much of an impact Tammy Jo had had when she’d been here such a short time.

  The muffins Susie sent down that morning were still in the basket by the sink where she’d left them for Momma. Wild daisies Momma had clipped graced the table in a mason jar turned vase. A dirty cup with a photo of Prince William and Princess Kate kissing after their wedding sat on the cabinet top near the coffee pot. Momma’s morning coffee. So much better a habit than the morning shot of whiskey had been.

  Clarissa stifled a sob and trudged up the stairs to the room her mother had slept in. No sense putting this off. It sure wasn’t going to get easier.

  Taking a deep breath she pushed the door open. She’d thought she’d find some essence of her mother, some bit of spirit here in the room she’d lived in for such a short time, but the room wasn’t any different than it had been before.

  Except that wasn’t quite right.

  A mason jar of flowers sat on the window sill and a moleskin notebook sat beside the bed, a pen beside it, a bible there also.

  Clarissa sat on the bed and opened the bible. Underlined verses showed someone used the bible regularly. Surely not Tammy Jo. The ranch hands might have spoken of her mother as someone completely different than the Tammy she knew, but no way had she gone christian. Not without a master plot in mind.

  Clarissa wiped away the tears falling freely now and opened the journal.

  Forgiveness. The word repeated again and again on three full pages of the journal.

  I’ve got to forgive myself. I’ve got to quit limiting the grace of God. I’ve got to pray and ask for God’s help in this. I’ve got to forgive myself and accept that God already has. I’ve got to trust that God will heal my relationship with Clarissa. That He has the answers I can’t begin to understand.

  Oh, Momma.

  Clarissa cried even more as she read on. Her mother’s tortured soul so transparent on the pages of the journal. Her fight to change. Her dedication to a different kind of life. And all of the pages dotted with bible verses.

  Luke 7:47-48 were favorites.

  Clarissa picked up the bible, turned to the passage.

  “Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven–for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” And he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”

  The passage was underlined in red, blue and black ink. In the margins, Clarissa ran her hands over her mother’s words. I’m forgiven.

  She knew then, understood, her mother had truly changed. And now it was too late to show her she knew.

  Clarissa wiped away more tears, picked up her mother’s pillow and inhaled the scent. That alone should’ve proven the change. No tobacco and heavy perfume. Only the soft earthy smell of someone who spent all her time outdoors.

  Clarissa turned back to the journal and continued reading until she made it to the last page her mother had written in.

  The entry was about her. About their past, about how Clarissa couldn’t see the change yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

  Clarissa closed the journal and cried out to the God her mother believed in.

  How could you take her away before I knew? How could you?

  Silence served as the only answer…like always.

  The next morning, Clarissa woke to puffy, sore eyes. It reminded her of how she’d cried herself to sleep so often as a child when she and Tammy Jo would skip out of town in the middle of the night and she’d lose her friends and all sense of normalcy.

  Tammy Jo had been a lousy mother. And God forgave her.

  Clarissa wasn’t sure what she thought about that.

  Starting a pot of coffee, she looked out the window at the green fields that seemed to go on forever. The Dillon’s house sparkled in the morning sunlight. The dogs ran along the gravel road from there to the bunkhouse. Chasing…she shielded her eyes to see better…Mackenzie.

  Clarissa’s heart warmed, and she opened the door to wait.

  When Mackenzie got to the house, she held out the basket she was carrying. A tiny orange and white kitten lay curled up on the bottom. Sleeping
despite the trip.

  “I asked and Gramps said I can give her to you. You don’t have to keep her forever.”

  Clarissa took the basket, and Mackenzie flew to her side to hug her tight. “I’m sorry ‘bout your Momma,” she said, and Clarissa swallowed a lump of sorrow.

  “It’s okay. She was real sick.”

  “Now you’ll feel better,” Mackenzie said as she picked up the cat and handed the ball of fur to her. “I liked your momma. She smelled like gum. I bet that’ll make the angels happy.”

  Clarissa cradled the cat in her arm. The tiny thing mewled and opened its eyes grumpily. She scratched its head and it settled against her chest mumbling and went back to sleep.

  “Daddy said I couldn’t bother you today, but Gramps said if I saw you I could. I told him you’re my best friend. There’s flowers for you up at the house. You going to come get them or do you want me to tell daddy to bring them down?”

  Embarrassment at the way she’d treated Jed last night coursed through her. She’d have to face him sooner or later. Plus she needed to return his phone. “I’ll come up there after a little while.”

  Mackenzie smiled like she’d won the best friend lottery and hugged her again, her tiny arms circling Clarissa’s waist and serving as a balm for her hurting heart.

  “The kitty food’s up at the house, too. And Gran says kitty likes Malt-o-Meal too, but she didn’t figure you’d have any of that. And Gramps said that was okay ‘cause you’d leave soon maybe. I don’t want you to leave, Clarissa.”

  Clarissa looked out over the fields again. Paul probably hadn’t meant for Mackenzie to hear those words. He was right, though. She needed to move on before it hurt even more to do so.

  She wasn’t going to lie to Mackenzie, though. So she just hugged the little girl back and prayed she could figure out a way to leave without hurting the girl who’d been abandoned and still believed in love.

  Again, answers to prayer proved elusive. So she pushed open her door and changed the subject.

  “Let’s go see what we’ve got to make a toy for the cat.”