Eddi,
I’ve never been able to keep secrets from you. So I guess I’ll tell you that I’m crying as I write this. It’s eleven Thursday night, or I’d call you. I haven’t checked my email for a couple of days—you know me and email. Anyway, I was up late tonight and decided to check my email. Now I wish I’d never checked it. The wild part about all this, Eddi, is that I was beginning to think that maybe Calvin was the man I’ve been waiting for. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting that I’d marry him so soon by any means. But I still thought I was sensing something special between us.
After coming home Sunday night, I even called Hal and talked to him. Essentially, I called us off—completely. I just couldn’t keep seeing him with things warming up so with Cal and me. Now it looks like everything has gone cold. Sniff, sniff. Call me when you get the chance. I’m shamelessly in need of consolation.
Love, Jenny
P.S. I’ve pasted Calvin’s message below.
Jenny,
As things have turned out, I think it’s best for Carissa to play the role of Jane Bennet. Thanks for taking the time to chat with me when you’ve been in town. I know you mentioned that your coaching position gets hectic and that you have seminars to attend this summer. Please don’t alter your schedule for any trips to London on my behalf. Given the play schedule and my professional commitments, I’ve got a really tight schedule, and there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to see you anyway.
Calvin Barclay
Eddi gripped her mug with both hands. The warmth did nothing to ease her mounting tension. Calvin Barclay must have been playing some sort of sick game when he pursued Jenny.
In her opinion, there wasn’t a woman as purehearted as her sister. Eddi, with her quick temper and iron will, had often dreamed of being everything lovely and sweet like Jenny.
“She deserved far better than this!” Eddi declared.
She drained the last trace of tea, placed the mug on the spotless desk, and opened a new web page. Her fingers clicking away on the keyboard, Eddi quickly found the number for the Barclay Animal Hospital. She pulled her desk phone closer and was halfway through dialing Calvin’s number when her cell phone emitted a series of beeps from her purse.
With a growl, Eddi suspended dialing the final numbers. She dug her hand into the depths of her purse and pulled out her cell phone. A glance at the screen testified the caller was Jenny.
Eddi answered her cell as she hung up her office phone and, after a swift greeting, Jenny said, “Have you checked your email this morning?”
“Yes, I just did,” Eddi said. “And yes, I got what you sent last night. Jenny, I’m so sorry!”
“Oh, I know. So am I!” She sniffed. “I guess I’m acting like a twelve-year-old here, but this has really affected me.” Her voice’s wobble added to Eddi’s irritation.
“And well it should!” Eddi claimed. “This is not high school. We’re adults here. Calvin Barclay had no business encouraging you like he did if he was going to just—just—”
“Dump me,” Jenny whimpered.
“Well, I wasn’t going to—”
“No, it’s the truth!” Jenny wailed. “That’s exactly what he did. He just dumped me like a bunch of stinky garbage.”
Eddi propped her elbow on the desk and placed her forehead in her palm.
“At least when I broke it off with Hal, I had the decency to place a personal phone call and be kind about it,” Jenny said.
“I think this email is the rudest thing I’ve ever read,” Eddi blurted. “It made me so mad that I literally was in the middle of calling him when you called me!”
“Oh no, Eddi, please,” Jenny begged. “If you call Calvin, I will die! You can’t call him. Promise me you won’t call him or—or talk to him or anybody about any of this. Promise me, Eddi!”
“Okay, okay.” Eddi shifted the phone. “I promise.”
She grabbed her empty mug and walked through a narrow hallway. Eddi passed a larger empty office she planned to use once she hired a secretary. At the end of the hallway, she stepped into a tiny kitchen.
“Would you like some company this weekend?” She set her mug on the counter.
“Who, me?”
“You are the person I’m talking to, right?” Eddi’s words softened with the evidence of her smile.
“I’d love some,” Jenny said.
“Okay, good.” She peered down the hallway toward her desk void of all paperwork. “My day is pretty much empty. I’ve just decided I’m going to close the office at noon and head that way. Heaven knows, I need a break from these people in this town as much as you need moral support right now.”
“That sounds great,” Jenny said. “It might even be a God-thing. Besides my problems, there’s something else brewing.”
“What?” Eddi asked.
“It’s Linda—she’s wanting to go to Hawaii with some friends.”
“Hawaii?” Eddi squeaked.
“Yes.”
“What are Dad and Mom saying?”
“Mom is beside herself wanting Linda to go. Sometimes I wonder if Mom is living vicariously through Linda. She’s saying she would have loved to have gone to Hawaii when she was twenty.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Eddi said. “And Dad?”
“He’s not so sure, but he’s not saying no, either. He said something yesterday about her being twenty and there wasn’t much he could do to stop her if that’s what she wants to do.”
“Oh, Jenny, we’ve got to somehow stop her,” Eddi said. “I don’t trust her flying all the way to Hawaii with a bunch of party animals.”
“You just hit the nail on the head,” Jenny said. “I’m afraid it’s going to turn into a perpetual beer bash and who knows what else.”
Images of Jenny finding Linda’s birth control pills sent a dark precognition through her spirit. Eddi stood erect and checked her watch. “Mark my word,” she vowed, “I’ll be there by six tonight. We’ll go from there.”
Sixteen
After his late night in the pool, Dave took Friday off. At nine o’clock that morning, he’d met Francis Schmidt at the door and told him to handle things on his own. By ten, Dave was halfway to Dallas. At eleven, he stood in a country church’s cemetery east of the metroplex—a cemetery that seized Dave’s past and held it in mute captivity.
Three years had lapsed since Dave visited the cemetery. All the times he thought of going back, the pain had been too great . . . the memories too overwhelming. So Dave had put on a tough front with Aunt Maddy every time she asked him to join her in visiting the grave sites. Looking back, he doubted she believed his claims of not needing to visit the lonely grave-marked yard.
The weather had taken an unusual turn for a Texas July. Instead of yesterday’s heat index of 108, the thermometer read only 88. A cool wind whipped up the smell of bitterweeds and dust. A strong blast rushed through the yard full of gravestones and tilted a row of young mesquites on the west edge. A whirlwind of dust erupted near his truck. Dave’s shirttail rustled over his jeans. That morning he’d been too grouchy and too distracted to tuck it in.
Dave looked beyond the flat pastureland and eyed the horizon marred by an inky thunderhead. The urge to find a storm cellar proved almost too powerful to ignore. Even though that white-tailed twister had only cost Dave some back pain, it had marred his psyche. He hadn’t observed a bank of clouds the same since. Like a soldier about to face an attack, Dave tensed and searched for a place to take cover—just in case.
The back door of the abandoned wood-framed church banged shut and then hurled itself open again. Dave nodded as if in answer to the door’s suggestion. He found peace in knowing the graying structure possessed a basement. In his youth he had set off a round a firecrackers in the corner of that basement one Sunday during children’s church. His parents had not been thrilled with him for a whole week.
The faded sign in front of the church read Lakeland Community Church. His father and mother had fel
t a call of God to refurbish the old sanctuary and reopen it for services. They’d seen years of success in ministering to the community, and the church thrived. Dave often marveled that God blessed his parents’ efforts even though their homelife was a battleground. Once his parents died, the church board searched for another minister while attendance steadily dwindled. Eventually, the congregation dissolved, and the building once again became an empty shell.
After another glance at the ominous horizon, Dave concentrated on the two graves that lay side by side. While numerous tombstones along the south fence were crumbling with age, these remained unharmed by the elements. Amazingly, sixteen years had lapsed since Dave had stood beside the freshly dug graves, each with a casket suspended over it. He’d listened in shock as the minister spoke the final words over both his parents.
On one side of him stood Rick Wallace. On the other side, his brother, George, only fifteen. He’d clung to Dave as if he were drowning. Dave now realized that George really had been going under.
I should have known! I should have known! he lambasted himself. He allowed his gaze to trail the guilt-ridden path to George’s gravestone. While his parents’ deaths had been devastating, George’s death three years ago nearly took Dave to the brink of insanity.
Dave closed his eyes and held the memories at bay. He hadn’t come here to brood over his losses, even though his heart throbbed for the family bond forever extinguished.
The longing to communicate with his parents and George had plagued Dave until three in the morning. Only after he decided to drive to the cemetery was he able to snatch a few hours of sleep. Now he pressed his work-roughened fingers between his brows. His forehead’s dull ache didn’t subside.
“I really don’t know where to start or what to say,” Dave finally said. He inserted his fingertips into his frayed jeans pockets and let his hands sag outward. “I guess I just wanted to tell you both about Eddi.”
Dave kicked at the spindly grass and wondered if the cemetery’s caretaker had quit and not been replaced. The row of weeds near the ancient plank fence nodded in the breeze as if in answer to his thoughts.
He bowed on one knee and traced his finger between clumps of grass. “I’d like to ask your advice on marrying her, I guess,” he continued.
“This is crazy,” he mumbled. “They can’t answer. They don’t even know I’m here. . . . Why am I even here?”
Dave stared at his mother’s tombstone. “Maybe I’m here mainly to get past the past,” he answered himself and shifted his attention to his father’s grave marker. “You two fought like cats and dogs in front of me the whole time I was growing up. I guess I never told you, but by the time I was seventeen, I decided I’d rather never get married than live like you did.”
Phantoms of the past gyrated among the tombstones, rattling the rusty chains Dave had yet to shake. Chains that bound him in fear his whole life. Before he radically encountered Christ, Dave had insulated himself with his demanding career and short-term relationships. His brother’s death had shaken him to the core because he partly blamed himself. One desperate morning Dave awoke with an empty bottle of bourbon on his chest. That day he sensed that if he didn’t have a lifeline, he was going to drown—just like George. That lifeline proved to be Christ.
But even a renewed vow to the holy hadn’t delivered him from his fear. Dave knew from the beginning of his awakened faith that the short-term relationships with women had to end—that if he ever became involved with another woman it would be about respect and honor and a lifetime commitment to love. That realization had sent him into a working frenzy, driven by a raw terror. In the past three years, Dave purposefully avoided the opposite sex by working like a maniac on his ranch. Until Aunt Maddy’s play invaded his life, Dave had poured all his spare time into the building behind his house.
“Hello.” The unexpected greeting sent a jolt through Dave. He jumped and pivoted to face a small boy behind him. The child looked to be no more than eight. He chewed on a wad of gum as if he were an overactive chipmunk. A dark mop of curls peeked from beneath a red baseball cap he wore backwards. His eyes were as dark as his hair, and a generous scattering of freckles covered his nose and cheeks. Torn cutoffs, mud-smeared shirt, and boy-worn sneakers attested to an adventure of Huck Finn proportions. Behind the boy a shiny blue bike was propped against the cemetery fence near the gate.
“I didn’t hear you come up.” Dave stood. As he extended his hand toward the child, he was stricken with how much he resembled his brother, George, when he was a kid. “My name’s Dave Davidson,” he said.
The child took Dave’s hand, shook it, and nodded with the sage wisdom of an old-timer. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Davidson,” he said. “Name’s Jeff Brown.”
“Hello there, Jeff Brown,” Dave responded as Jeff blew a gigantic bubble. When it popped, he resumed chomping as if the nation’s safety depended upon his efforts.
“And what brings you out this morning?” Dave asked.
“I was just out ridin’ my bike.” He pointed toward the gate. “I live ’bout half a mile that way.” He motioned to his left. “I come to the cemetery sometimes.”
“Oh, really?” Dave asked.
“Yep.” The child squinted up at Dave. “Funny, I’ve never seen you here.”
“Well, this is my first time back in a few years.” A blue jay swooped behind Jeff and soared to the limb of a nearby pine. The bird’s raucous squawking mingled with Jeff’s explanation.
“I come every week or so,” the boy said. “When school’s in, I come on Saturdays.”
“I see,” Dave answered and debated whether or not to pry into the reason for the child’s visits. A white sedan purred along the country lane, stirring up a cloud of red dust. The wind swooshed behind the car and whipped the dust into a crazed billow.
“I come to visit my mom,” Jeff finally said as if he’d read Dave’s mind. His dark eyes stirred with pain-wrought insight that transcended his years. “She’s over there.” He pointed to a plot near the fence, about six feet from his bike.
“Really?” Dave questioned and felt a strange bond with this child he’d never met. “That’s why I’m here, too.” He looked toward the tombstones that marked his parents’ graves and pitied Jeff’s plight.
“I talk to my mom,” Jeff said. “She died last year when I was just in second grade. Dad says her heart just quit. We don’t know why. I guess she had problems with it, that’s all. You talkin’ to your mom, too?” He tilted his head and blew another bubble. The gum popped, and Jeff sucked it back into his mouth.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” Dave responded and eyed the graves near the child’s bike.
“What about?” Jeff studied the tombstones behind Dave.
“Well . . .” Dave hesitated as he searched for a way to avoid answering this unexpected interrogation. He observed Jeff Brown and recalled George’s precocious childhood antics. Once, Dave’s mother even caught him going from door to door selling worn-out baseball cards for a dollar a piece. So many people in the neighborhood liked him, he had accumulated twenty-five dollars within a one-hour period.
Caught in pleasant memories, Dave hesitated and then decided to reveal the reason for his trip. “I’m telling my parents about a lady I’ve met,” he said. “I’m thinking of asking her to marry me.”
Jeff’s bottom lip protruded as if he were in deep thought. “Do you love her?”
“I think so.” Dave shook his head and marveled at the ease with which the admission fell from him. “Yes, I do.”
“Does she love you?”
“I’m not sure, but . . .” He relived the spark of attraction in Eddi’s eyes. “I think she might like me and maybe—maybe she could grow to love me.”
“Well,” Jeff responded, “then you should get married.” He crossed his arms as if he were the replacement for Dear Abby. “My mother used to tell me that one day I’d grow up and fall in love and get married. If you’re in love, then you should get married.”
He nodded as if he were sealing a major business deal.
“All men do, you know,” Jeff added.
Dave smiled. “Yes, so I’ve heard,” he answered. “So I’ve heard.”
“Well, I guess my grandma’s gonna be hollerin’ for me for lunch. She moved in with us when Mom died.”
“Okay,” Dave began and hated to see the child leave so soon. “But first tell me,” he said, “What were you talking to your mom about?”
“Oh, I’m trying to decide whether or not to buy a new baseball glove or a parakeet. I’ve been saving my money all summer. My dad says it’s a big decision, and I just wanted to tell Mom about it.”
“I’d go with the baseball glove,” Dave advised and mimicked Jeff’s arm crossing. “Parakeets have a way of getting eaten by cats. Do you have a cat?”
“Yep. Six of ’em,” Jeff answered. “Our mama cat had five kittens seven months ago. My grandma says we’re going to have to make cat stew or something.”
Dave snickered. “I’ve never heard of a cat eating a baseball glove,” he said. Dave smiled as he remembered playing catch with George.
Jeff narrowed his eyes. “That’s a good point.”
“Yes. I figure your mom would agree, too. Baseball is a good thing for boys to spend their money on. All boys do, you know.”
Jeff peered toward the horizon. “I think maybe you’re right, mister.”
As if responding to an unheard beckoning, Jeff dashed toward the gate like he was trying to steal home base. He hopped on his bike, jabbed at the kickstand with his heel, and pumped the pedals. “Bye,” he hollered and waved toward his new acquaintance.
After waving back, Dave watched Jeff roll out of the church’s driveway and onto the road. “Well, that was interesting,” he mused, yet his heart insisted he’d been privileged with a visit from the past.
Dave walked one row over and stopped near a stone marked “George A. Davidson.” A streak of dried mud marred the engraved name, and Dave tried to brush it off. Several stubborn clumps clung to his little brother’s name. Dave dropped to his knees, unbuttoned his crumpled shirt, took it off, and frantically rubbed the surface of the tombstone as if trying to erase the guilt of three years’ absence. The red dirt crumbled to the earth. The monument shone spotless in the midday sun.
First Impressions: A Contemporary Retelling of Pride and Prejudice Page 16