Cross Your Heart (True Heart Series Book 4)

by Layce Gardner

  “I love this game,” Bernie said.

  “Clara’s pretty darn good at it, too,” Edna said.

  “I thought this was better than having everyone sitting around looking glum. This is how I’d like to be remembered,” Clara said. She put down the tiles for the word muzjiks.

  “What on earth is that?” Millie said, jotting down fifteen points for Clara.

  “Russian peasants,” Parker said.

  “Hey, Clara, is quixotry a real word?” Luke said. “Dad seems to think so.”

  “It is,” Jeb insisted. “I swear it.” Luke and Jeb were playing on the other end of the table.

  “It was allowed in an official Scrabble tournament in 2006,” Parker said. They all stared at her. Parker shrugged.

  “I told you,” Jeb said.

  “Yeah, well what does it mean?” Luke countered. “It’s my prerogative to challenge your word.”

  “Parker, would you like to answer that?” Clara said. She winked at her.

  “It means a visionary scheme or action and originates from novel Don Quixote,” Parker replied.

  Clara explained. “Parker’s grandmother was a Scrabble champion back in the day.”

  “That’ll be thirty-six points, my boy,” Jeb said, gloating.

  Mabel came out the back door of the house carrying a tray with glasses. She almost toppled under the weight. Parker came to her rescue. She set it down in the center of the long table. “What’s this?” Parker asked, staring at the interestingly colored pitcher of pale green liquid.

  “A chilled hemlock cocktail,” Mabel said, pouring Clara a glass.

  “I thought she wasn’t doing that until later,” Amy said in a panic.

  Mabel chuckled. “It’s not real hemlock, silly.”

  “She has a macabre sense of humor lately. If you haven’t noticed,” Clara said.

  “I’m simply embracing the obvious,” Mabel said.

  “What’s in it?” Jeb asked, getting up and giving the chilled pitcher a sniff.

  “White rum, Sprite, orange juice, and blue raspberry juice. See, it’s healthy,” Mabel said, pouring one for Clara.

  “Is that a good idea?” Jeb asked.

  They stared at him. “Right,” he amended. He cleared his throat then said, “I hadn’t thought of this before, Clara, but how would you feel if I did an article on your…” he paused, then continued, “death with dignity thing.”

  “I’m fine with it but you better run it by Mabel. She’ll be the one dealing with the fallout,” Clara said.

  Mabel poured a glass of hemlock for all of them without inquiring if anyone wanted one. “I don’t care what anyone thinks about it. This is Clara’s decision and they have no right to judge it.” She set the glass she was filling with hemlock down so hard, the liquid sloshed over.

  “Mabel, calm down,” Clara said.

  “Hmmph,” Mabel said. “Jeb, you go right ahead and write that story.”

  Jeb smiled and reached over taking Clara’s hand. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you and your paper,” Clara said. “Now, go kick your son’s ass in Scrabble.”

  Jeb smiled at her sadly. “I will.”

  “Not so fast, dad,” Luke called out. “Look at this—twenty-two points.”

  Jeb leaned over and looked at the board. “Wagyu?”

  “Japanese breed of cattle that produces Kobe beef which sells for over a hundred dollars a pound,” Parker said.

  “You remember all this from playing Scrabble with your grandmother?” Jeb asked.

  “No, I looked up twenty good words to use for Scrabble on the Internet before I came,” Parker said.

  “Geez, why hadn’t I thought of that?” Jeb said. “No more looking that up on your phone,” he told Luke.

  “It’s against the rules to search for words. The only time the dictionary can be used during a game is if your word is challenged by another player,” Parker said.

  “Ha!” Jeb said, pointing an accusing finger at Luke. “I should take your word away, but I won’t because you’re so far behind.”

  “For now,” Luke said.

  “I didn’t realize Scrabble was so competitive,” Amy said under her breath to Parker.

  “Every game is competitive,” Parker said. She took one of the glasses Mabel handed her.

  “Hell, yes. What’s the point of playing if not to win?” Mabel said. She sat on the bench seat next to Clara. She leaned in and kissed her.

  “This stuff is tasty,” Millie said, smacking her lips.

  “When are Susan and Tess coming?” Amy asked.

  “Soon,” Clara said. “Why don’t you two get a game going?”

  “Is there a board for us?” Amy asked.

  “Oh, there’s always a spare board,” Millie said, seeming to pull one out of thin air.

  ***

  Tess picked up Susan at the hospital and took her home to change. Her coworkers knew she was going to a wake and she got plenty of volunteers to take her afternoon shift. She’d done the early morning shift because she needed to keep herself busy. Susan avoided Dr. Webster because she didn’t want to talk to her before Clara was safely on her way to parts unknown. Susan allowed herself one good, deep, sobbing cry while in the shower. She’d wanted Clara to be one of those miraculous cases where the cancer stopped and disappeared, but she knew, deep down, in Clara’s case, there was no chance.

  Tess could tell Susan had been crying. Her puffy eyes gave her away. Tess took her in her arms and held her. “It’s the right thing. Sad, but the right thing.”

  “I know,” Susan muttered.

  Looking her right in the eye, Tess said. “You can do this.”

  “Okay.” Susan snuffled and went to get dressed. As she pulled on her trousers and an oxford shirt, she thought about Tess and what a wonderful partner she was. She was her wife, really, although they never referred to each other as that. Maybe one day Susan would stop worrying that if she married Tess it would be the death knell of their relationship. Look at Mabel and Clara—they’d lasted twenty-five years without getting married. She couldn’t imagine losing Tess and that was only after one year of love. What must Mabel be feeling? Susan couldn’t even imagine.

  “Sweetie, we’re going to be late,” Tess called out.

  Susan quickly stuffed her feet into her loafers. “I’m coming!”

  “Not without me, I hope,” Tess joked.

  They both laughed. It felt good to laugh.

  ***

  Susan hopped in Tess’s car. “Ready?” Tess said.

  “Yes,” Susan said answered, though she didn’t sound as if she were.

  Tess reached into her purse and pulled out a three-page list of words. She handed it to Susan.

  “What this?”

  “A list of Scrabble words that assist in case of too many vowels, too many of the same letters, and weird words that utilize certain difficult letters. You have fifteen minutes to memorize it.”

  “Why only fifteen minutes?” Susan asked, slightly alarmed.

  “Because that’s how long it takes to get to Clara and Mabel’s house.”

  Susan quickly perused the pages before sighing heavily and asking, “Shouldn’t I have been studying this last night?”

  “Parker sent me a link this morning. She didn’t think it fair that she’d done the same thing. She felt it necessary to, as she put it, ‘even out the odds.’ She intends on winning but wants to do it fair and square or it will tarnish her triumph. As she said.”

  “She’s so weird,” Susan said fondly. She dove into the word list and studied. Glancing over at Tess as she drove the car, Susan asked, “Did you do this to distract me?”

  Tess shrugged. “Why do you think Clara wants everyone to play Scrabble?”

  Susan looked blankly out her window. Tess asked, “Are you sure you’re all right with this?”

  Susan didn’t answer.

  “Susan?” Tess asked, louder this time.

  “Huh?” Susan lo
oked at her.

  Tess stopped at a red light and said, “I asked if you were still concerned about being the physician at the death with dignity ceremony?”

  Susan shook her head. “I can’t be at the ceremony itself. I can go to the party beforehand without risk. I’m not her attending physician and haven’t prescribed her any drugs. I checked it all out legally. Besides, no one is going to make a stink. We’re all pretending we don’t know in our own ways.”

  Tess reached across the seat and took Susan’s hand in her own. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Until I collapse into a sobbing mess when the time comes.”

  “Clara won’t like that.”

  “She’s got so much compassion, she’ll be the one comforting me.”

  “I have a feeling she’ll be comforting more than just you,” Tess said.

  Susan remembered how Clara had helped her when Carrie had left her at the altar. Parker and the rest had been there, too, but Clara was the mother figure that Susan needed. Her own mother had refused to even come to the wedding. She’d grudgingly accepted Susan’s lesbianism, but she was appreciative that Susan had moved away so she didn’t have to explain anything to her country club friends. She sure as hell wasn’t coming to a gay wedding. Susan had only invited her as a courtesy. But Clara had stepped in and filled her mother’s shoes. Susan knew that was why she was having such a hard time with Clara’s death: she was losing the only mother she’d ever had.

  The street was so crowded with cars that Tess drove around the block twice before finally parking two blocks away.

  “Clara’s very popular,” Susan said.

  Tess leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Remember…I’ll be right there beside you.”

  ***

  Steph was putting the final touches on her spinach, olive, and cream cheese rollups when she burst into tears. She missed Clara already and she wasn’t even gone yet. They had until midnight, the moment when one day became the next, as Clara explained it, before Clara was no longer with them.

  Steph was remembering when Clara had helped her. After Rosa had her accident and was so frustrated that she was lashing out at those closest to her, Clara had been the shoulder that Steph cried on. They had met for coffee on the sly. Clara listened to Steph and in return, told her stories about the hard times and the frustrations of having a relationship, especially with that “little fireball” of mine, she’d said warmly and without any malice. She was like the Aesop’s Fables of lesbian love, supplying words of wisdom for Steph when she needed them most. “It’s necessary for love to be tested,” Clara had said. “That’s what separates true love from being just a mess of hormones.”

  Rosa came in the kitchen, toweling her hair dry. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, taking Steph in her arms. “I thought I heard you crying.”

  “I’m not crying. I was cutting onions,” Steph lied badly, snatching a paper towel off the roll and wiping her eyes.

  “I don’t see any onions,” Rosa said.

  “Yeah, well…” Steph didn’t have an answer.

  “I know you like to think you’re a tough butch, but even butches cry. We all love Clara and it hurts to lose her.”

  “I know, but I can’t let her down by feeling bad and moping around. She made me promise,” Steph said. She put plastic wrap over the top of the rollups.

  “I always think of her as the secret Santa for the emotionally distraught. She gave me a good talking to when I got hurt,” Rosa said.

  “I didn’t know that,” Steph said.

  “Clara does a lot of things for a lot of people and doesn’t ever say anything. It’s her way.”

  “What are we going to do without her?” Steph asked.

  “Watch over Mabel…a lot.”

  Steph laughed lightly. “Remember that one time when Mabel got into carrying that big stick for self-defense purposes and she knocked down all those flower baskets on Dorset?”

  “And Edna tried to put them back up and her sarong got caught and it came off,” Rosa said.

  “She caused a three-car pileup before she got it back on. Damn, I thought Chief Bob Ed was going to wet his pants, he was laughing so hard,” Steph said.

  “Yeah, we’re going to have our hands full with Mabel,” Rosa said, warmly.

  “Yes, we are,” Steph said smiling.

  ***

  The Scrabble-a-thon was in full swing when Steph and Rosa got there. A steady stream of people was coming and going to say good bye. It was as if Clara were leaving on a trip, which in a way, she was.) The tables and the kitchen counters were stacked high with Tupperware containers of food. Steph set her rollups on top of a big bowl of potato salad.

  “Dang, this is a lot of food,” Steph said.

  “It seems the whole town has been passing through,” Parker said, coming up behind her and taking a rollup. “Good choice, these are one of my favorite potluck specials.”

  “How’s she holding up?” Steph whispered, nodding her head in Clara’s direction.

  “Pretty darn good considering it’s her last day on the planet,” Parker said.

  Steph raised both eyebrows.

  “What? It’s true,” Parker said.

  “You don’t have to say it,” Steph snapped.

  “I apologize. That was insensitive of me,” Parker said. She didn’t meet Steph’s eyes.

  Steph swung her arm around Parker’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m not doing well.”

  “Hide it.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” Steph said. She looked around for Rosa and spotted her talking to Clara. “Rosa’s handling it so much better than me,” Steph said.

  “Until later. Some of us have delayed emotions. Now, go give Clara a hug. Tess and Susan already have the Scrabble board set up. They’re waiting on us. Oh, and don’t forget to get a glass of hemlock punch.”

  “Hemlock punch?”

  “Not real hemlock,” Parker said.

  “Sweet Jesus. I suppose that was Mabel’s idea.”

  “Who else?”

  Steph pasted on a big smile and greeted the others, although most people were intent on their tiles. Clara had been right about playing a game. People looked happy, like they were at a party, Steph thought.

  Steph saved Clara for last. She hugged her and whispered in her ear, “I love you,” she whispered in Clara’s ear.

  Clara squeezed her hand. “I know you do. Go have some fun.”

  “I’m going to kick some Scrabble butt,” Steph said, pointing at Susan and Tess.

  “We’ll see about that,” Tess said. “I’ve been studying up.”

  “So has Parker,” Amy said.

  Parker handed Amy a glass of lemonade. Amy put down two tiles, spelling the word xi. Parker smiled. “You were paying attention.”

  Steph narrowed her eyes at Amy’s word. “You’ve been coaching her?” She chose her tiles.

  “Maybe a little,” Parker replied.

  “Is this why you haven’t gotten around to planning your wedding?” Steph teased.

  “It is planned,” Parker replied. She sipped her cocktail and studied her tiles.

  “It is?” Steph sat up straight.

  “We’re going with the cowboy-themed wedding. I hope you like barbeque and beans. I suggest taking a Beano tablet before you come,” Parker said drily.

  “Yep, isn’t it great?” Mabel said, coming over to their table. “It was my idea.”

  “Of course, it was,” Steph said.

  “The wedding attire is Wild West only. No exceptions,” Mabel said. “On my orders,” she added.

  “What are you wearing?” Susan asked Amy.

  “I’m dressing as a pregnant saloon girl and Parker is going as a gunslinger,” she said.

  “For real?” Tess said.

  “Hell, yeah, for real,” Mabel said.

  ***

  Later in the kitchen, Steph asked Parker, “Are you doing the cowboy wedding for Mabel’s sake? I mean, it is your weddi
ng. Is that what you really want?”

  “Hell yeah, as Mabel said,” Parker replied. “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “I just think it’s a little strange that’s all.”

  “Says the woman who got married in an ugly Christmas sweater.”

  “Right.” Steph chewed on that for a moment.

  “We are doing it partly for Mabel, but it’s a good idea. It’s a gift to her and Clara and that makes it all the more special. Besides, Amy and I were never going to figure it out on our own. This is best,” Parker said. She picked up an oatmeal cookie. “Have you tried these?” she said, indicating the cookie.

  “How can you be thinking about cookies?”

  “Because I’m eating one,” Parker said simply.

  “How can you be so calm?”

  “Because it’s what Clara wants.”

  “What if it goes wrong and she ends up like that Karen Ann Quinlan?” Steph said.

  “Susan has done the calculations. Karen Ann Quinlan was partying and overdosed. Clara is going to fall asleep, stop breathing, and she signed off on the DNR so there’ll be no resuscitation.”

  “So, this is all easy-peasy for you?” Steph said.

  “Stop it,” Parker said firmly. “This isn’t about you.”

  Steph sighed. She took three deep breaths. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Parker walked toward her and gave her a hug. Parker was not a demonstrative person. Steph was taken aback and then eased into her comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s going to be all right,” Parker said.

  Steph pulled back and looked into Parker’s eyes. “You don’t usually do hugs.”

  “This is a special occasion.” She held up her half-eaten oatmeal cookie, asking, “Want a bite?”

  ***

  Amy stared at her watch. She’d taken to wearing one because it was evident that checking your phone for the time might be considered rude. Like you weren’t interested in what the person was saying. Or maybe you were checking out Facebook or Twitter, which also indicated you weren’t interested in the person you were talking to. Oh, hell, here she was, her mind traveling all over the place because it was already eleven o’clock. Only one more hour to go.