by Lisa Smartt
But Aunt Charlotte never can just leave. She always needs to provide a final hug and admonition for everyone present. She grabbed Collin and James and squeezed both of them into her massive bosom. “These are the finest little fellas in all the county. Yes, sir. Fine fellas, both of ‘em.” She set them both free about the time they needed oxygen.
She grabbed Doug next and went right down the line. “Doug honey, you’re lookin’ good. Have you gained weight? Carlie, I saw your interview on Good Morning America. That short man who used to be a politician helper should be ashamed. He’s ridiculous. Ashley, I brought you a tin of cookies. Now I’m sorry but you’re too skinny, Baby. Way too skinny. Your little face looks all hollowed out and a real man won’t want no part of that. Here, eat three cookies and drink a glass of milk ever’ night fore you go to bed and that’ll fix you right up.” She grabbed her big black purse and with a wave of her hand, she skipped off the porch. “My work here is done. Love ya! Love ya all!”
Ashley smiled but it wasn’t a happy smile. She missed Dave. She didn’t say it aloud. I didn’t say it aloud. She went to bed at 7:30, saying her body was still in recovery. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was her heart.
I called Clara to see if she could bring the kids over for ice cream. She happily obliged. They ran in the house like three mini tornadoes. James yelled for them to come in the living room and see the stuffed animal pile. Clara looked tired, but happy.
I pulled the ice cream out of the freezer and searched for the fun little decorative bowls that looked like waffle cones. “So, it’s been six months. I guess having three kids in the house adds a lot of excitement, eh?”
“Excitement, laundry, and overall chaos. But it’s a good chaos, a happy chaos.”
“You guys have done a bang-up job, sister. Really. It’s obvious to everybody that they’re adjusting well.”
“They are. Sometimes they do odd things that I know are related to their history. Like want to keep all their stuff right by their bed, y’know, so no one will take it. But they’re loosening up. Evidently they had no bedtimes so the whole sleep thing was a challenge at first. But we got a system together that seems to be working. No problems for the last few months. But really, it’s Dusty. He’s incredible. I mean, I was in love with him before, but watching him with the kids, it’s just a completely different, more intense kind of love. It’s like he wants to do all the things his daddy never did. He reads to them before bed every night. And even though he still stumbles on some of the words, he keeps going. Prays with them individually. At breakfast, he tells them funny stories. One morning we were just sittin’ there and he said, ‘I’m sure glad you kids got up, ‘cause Mama and I were missing you somethin’ awful while you slept.’ They just glowed. I mean, who wouldn’t glow? That, that feeling, it’s something Dusty and I never knew. That feeling of being wanted. He’s working on this big wooden jungle gym thing in the backyard. He’s on cloud nine.”
“And how are they doin’ in school?”
“Good. Well, everyone except Mandy. Still struggling. Dusty says she has the same problems he had. Everything just seems so hard. And it is. It is hard for her. But she’s trying. We met with her teacher and she’s definitely trying.”
“And Clara? How’s the mama doin’?”
“I’m good. I’m not as demonstrative as Dusty. I mean, I’m sure they’d vote him favorite parent. By far. But I’m good. And I do love them. More with each passing day.”
“The way I see it, they need a fun demonstrative parent and a parent who keeps things going, keeps everyone organized, laundry done, and on track. So they’re blessed. All five of you are blessed.”
“We are.” She said quietly, “Oh, and keep this quiet, but there’s gonna be six of us.”
“What?” I stopped scooping and threw my arms around her and whispered, “You’re pregnant?”
“I am. Truthfully, we weren’t trying. At all. But you know that 98% thing? Yeah, well, evidently we’re the 2%.”
I spoke in a whisper. “Well, congratulations! Good news, right?”
“Yeah. Of course. We’re adjusting to it. We’re not telling anyone for a few weeks. The children still need time. Dusty and I, we don’t want them to ever feel second best or less than. We both know that feeling and it’s awful. Beyond awful.”
“I know you guys will make sure they know their place in the family. Plus, the counseling can address this too, right?”
“Yeah.” Tears started forming in Clara’s eyes. “That’s not all. I got this letter…”
About that time, the five tornadoes entered the kitchen. Will ran toward the counter. “Aunt Carlie, where’s the ice cream?”
“It’s right here, Buddy. Five bowls of ice cream for five great kids. Who wants chocolate syrup?”
Collin yelled, “We just want ice cweam, Aunt Carwie! Not dwippy stuff!”
“Well, okay then. Five bowls of ice cream. No ‘dwippy’ stuff.”
Clara announced, “Guys, we need to leave in about thirty minutes. It’s a school night and we want everyone well-rested.”
Mandy piped up between sticky bites, “’Cause Daddy says we grow when we’re sleeping.”
The children inhaled the ice cream and I did that thing parents say they’ll never do. I put all five kids in front of a thirty-minute cartoon video so I could find out what was troubling Clara. What was this letter she mentioned?
Clara and I walked back into the kitchen and I said in a low quiet voice, “Here, have a seat at the bar. Now, what’s this letter you mentioned?”
“Here. You can read it. It came in an e-mail. I guess he got my address from the school website. I printed it out.” She pulled a white piece of paper from her purse and carefully unfolded it in front of me.
Dear Clara,
My name is Jason Flannery. I’m 19 years old and a sophomore at LSU. I believe you gave birth to me. Well, no. I know you gave birth to me. My parents told me all about you, or what they knew anyway. I assume you’ve gotten married because you no longer use Johnson as your last name. So congratulations. I hope you are very happy.
My parents always said I could request to meet you anytime. But I didn’t have any interest in it (no offense). Now that I’m in college I thought I would contact you to see if you’d like to meet me. My parents are supportive of this decision. My girlfriend, Izzie, says it would complete the “circle of understanding” in my life. I have no idea what that means. Izzie is a Psychology major. Truthfully, for the first time in my life, I find that I’m curious about my birth story. About you. And about my birthfather. I can’t say why exactly.
You’re not obligated at all. So if you don’t want to meet me, I’ll understand. I’m sure you’re wondering about the last 19 years so I’ll be glad to give you the high points.
Mom and Dad never had any other kids so I am their one and only. It was an iconic American childhood in so many ways complete with the Collie dog (named Buck) and the big back yard. I played Little League baseball (poorly). We went on vacations. Some interesting like Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Washington, D.C. Some less interesting like the time my uncle took us all to see the largest ball of twine. In case you’re planning a trip to see the largest ball of twine, let me save you the trouble. It’s just twine. My younger cousins cried because they thought it would be bigger. My uncle bought them triple dips of strawberry swirl ice cream to make up for it. Amazingly, it did. Never underestimate the power of ice cream.
I’m a writer. Always have been. I like to think God understood that I would never make it as a baseball player so he gave me writing as a consolation prize. Are you a writer? These are things I’m sometimes curious about. Both my parents are brilliant in math and less gifted with words. It makes me wonder.
So I’m studying English at LSU even though some would say it’s not a very practical major. Thankfully, my parents are not the type to say that. They always say, “Follow your passions and your gifts. God gifted you with a love for words for a rea
son.” They’re cool like that.
Do you have faith in God? I did. And then I didn’t. And now I do. Well, I guess faith is not something that can come and go. But when I was a kid I just assumed everything I learned at church and from my parents was right. Then, as a teenager, I went on a rebellion against all things related to orthodoxy. I questioned. Hard. But my parents? They hung in there. They didn’t rant and rave (at least, not much).
When I was sixteen, I’ll never forget this Saturday night when my dad said he wanted to take me out to eat anywhere I wanted. So just to drive him crazy, I requested this punky uptown taco place that plays incredibly loud scream-o music. And what did Dad do? He acted like we were at Applebee’s. He was twice the age of every person in that place (even the owner). But he never made one disparaging comment. About the music. The food. The fact that every person in there was pierced beyond recognition. He smiled and said he’d have what I was having. We sat. We talked, which wasn’t easy to do with the volume of the music. And I knew. Well, that Dad was saying he loved me. No strings attached. It was an amazing freedom of sorts. They are amazing. Both of them. I have been blessed. So thank you. It’s been a good life. No. It’s been a great life.
I’m writing to you because some friends and I are going to be attending an Apologetics conference at Union University in Jackson one month from today. I understand you live in that area now. Would you like to come to Jackson and meet me for coffee? If so, please reply. If not, please reply as well so I’ll at least know you received this letter.
Sincerely,
Jason
I walked around the bar and hugged her. “Oh Clara, what JOY! What joy this must have brought!”
She wiped her eyes gently. “It did. He sounds a little bit incredibly wonderful, doesn’t he?”
“He does! Oh, he does! And have you answered yet?”
“I’m not sure what to say. I was hoping you could help me. I hate to disappoint him but I’m no writer. Maybe you can be my ghost writer and he’ll be all impressed with me.”
“You are impressive, Clara. We don’t have to pretend anything. But yes, I’ll be glad to help you. You are going to meet him, right?”
“I guess. But I dread it, y’know the whole thing about the birthfather. What am I supposed to say about that?”
“You tell him the whole story. The abuse. The men. You tell him you don’t know who the birthfather is, that you wish you did but you don’t. Well, you should definitely meet Jason. No question about that. It would be disappointing to him if you weren’t even willing to meet him. Plus, aren’t you curious?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Okay. Let’s get on your e-mail account and get this done.” I stuck my head into the living room. “Will, you guys can watch one more show! Mama’s gotten busy on a little project in the office. We’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
I sat at the computer and wrote the first thing that came to my mind.
Dear Jason,
Thank you for contacting me. Your letter brought such joy to my heart. You will never know. Yes, I’d love to meet you next month. Keep me posted and we’ll work something out.
I’m not a writer. I teach second graders. But I do especially love to teach reading. Yes, I’m married now. I married Dusty McConnell three years ago. It’s a beautiful story and maybe someday I will tell you the miraculous way God worked it all out. Dusty owns his own mechanic shop in a small town called Bradford. He’s a wonderful Christian man and I have been blessed to be his wife. And yes, I have faith. I couldn’t have made it through life if I didn’t.
Six months ago we adopted three children. Will, Mandy, Molly. 4, 6, and 8. They are beautiful and we so enjoy being their parents. So yes, I understand your parents’ joy.
I look forward to meeting you in person. Just know that I have prayed for you and thought of you many many times over the years. To hear that your life has been so wonderful, well, that brings a wave of relief to my heart. Thank you for writing.
Sincerely,
Clara
When I showed it to Clara, she said, “Perfect!”
“Then push send, Sister Friend.”
She happily sent it on its way and asked, “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“Are you kidding? I know you, Girlfriend. We lived together for four years, remember?”
“Yes. But I was a different person then. Closed.”
I put my arm around her as we walked into the living room. “Right. And now you’re living life all out in the open. And for that, we can be grateful! Okay, kids, Aunt Carlie is kicking you out! It’s time for all the smart little school kids to get in the bed! But first, everyone has to give Aunt Carlie a big hug and a promise to come back soon!”
The three of them lined up as though they dreaded the obligatory hug. But of course, they each one loved it and smiled when I released them from my arms.
Clara said, “What do we say?”
In a unison chorus, “Thank you for the ice cream, Aunt Carlie.”
Collin and James both started crying at the thought of the big kids going home. Mandy comforted them. “Look, little cousins, we’ll be back soon. You gotta go to bed. And so do we.” We all knew the truth. Will, Mandy, and Molly loved being loved. Wanted. Needed even. And don’t we all?
Chapter 32 CARLIE: Ashley Ashley Ashley
Ashley slept from 7:30 pm to 7:30 am. Twelve hours straight. When she walked out of the guest room door in her standard gray Bama sweatshirt, I met her with that one beautiful word, “Coffee?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She sat at the bar. “Thanks. I’ve dreaded this day but I need to leave. Tomorrow. Got a message late last night. They want me to get to the set within three weeks. I need to go see Mom and Dad for a few days and then go home for a while. Get my stuff together. Pay bills. Check the house.”
I wiped the spilled creamer off the counter and touched her hand. “I understand.”
“Look, I won’t ever be able to thank you. It’s impossible. You should have gotten some serious combat pay for the trip to see Blake. And then the miscarriage? I was a mess. That couldn’t have been easy. And that whole time you were writing a book, taking care of Doug, Dave, and two preschool tornadoes and you never complained.”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? Oh, I complained plenty. I dang near cussed out Uncle Bart’s coon last week. I did. Look, it’s called life. It’s messy. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
James and Collin came running up to Ashley, “Ashwee, Ashwee!”
“Hey, little twin engine rockets! What you men got planned for today?”
“Ice cream!”
“Oh boys, don’t go down that path.” She chuckled, “Food can’t make you happy. Trust Aunt Ashley to tell you the truth on this one.”
“Speaking of food, let’s have some breakfast. Eggs, bacon, the whole nine yards.”
“I’m fine with just coffee.”
“Okay. I don’t have time for this so let’s just cut to the chase. You’re not eating. You don’t look like yourself anymore. I know. You’re a movie star. But even movie stars have to eat. And yes, I get it. You don’t want to live to eat. But you do have to eat to live. So name your breakfast. Anything. I can even make you a peanut butter sandwich.”
“How about peanut butter on a big spoon?”
“I guess that’s a start.”
Chapter 33 DAVE: Starting Over
Dusty rolled my suitcase into the lobby at 9:45. We had to be there by ten and I was disappointed we had made the deadline. I looked at him and said, “Here’s to the losers, huh?”
Dusty pushed the security buzzer. “You got it all wrong, man. The losers? They never grace these doors.”
She looked friendly enough even though it was almost 10:00 pm. Probably about fifty years old, wearing jeans and a cowboy shirt. She extended her hand. “Mr. Robertson? Or would you rather us call you Dave?”
“Dave’s fine. This is my good friend, Dusty.”
“Great to meet both of you. I’m Sherry. Dr. Wright and I’ll be working with you. You’ll need to go ahead and say your good-byes here in the lobby. And I assume they told you about our technology policy, yes? No cell phones or computers?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hugged Dusty briefly and told him I would call when I could. He assured me Doug was going to call the next day to get all the rules and policies about visitation and phone privileges.
Sherry’s warmth and enthusiasm reminded me of Carlie. Comforting. She touched my arm, “Right this way, Dave. You can put your things there by your bed. Let’s get started, shall we? I know it’s late so we won’t talk long tonight.”
“Okay.”
I followed her down a long hallway and into a room where she introduced me to Dr. Wright who asked several questions about my childhood, my drinking, Shannon, and my decision to start recovery. He handed me a schedule for the next day and then Sherry asked if she could check my bag. At first, I didn’t understand. Then I realized they were checking for booze. Well, booze and technology, I guess. I gave my approval. Gosh, I’m not stupid enough to bring Jim Beam to an alcohol recovery center. But then I realized that desperation is just that…desperate.
Sherry opened the suitcase zipper and when she did, I noticed a white envelope with my name on it laying carefully on top of my socks. When no contraband was found, she stepped out of the room and cheerfully told me she’d see me at breakfast.
I picked up the envelope and leaned back in the worn out orange vinyl chair that looked like it had been lifted from a dental office in the 70’s. I didn’t recognize the handwriting on the outside and I felt certain it wasn’t Carlie’s. The handwriting on the white piece of copy paper was small and difficult to read.
Dear Dave,
As you begin this journey, there are a few things I wanted to say. I’m not a writer, like Carlie, so don’t expect eloquence. Or even paragraphs. I’m sorry I couldn’t say some of these things to your face. But better this way than not at all, I guess.