Embrace Me

by Lisa Samson

  Maybe someday she’ll remove the scarf. But that’s got to come from her, not me. I’ll never encourage Val to do anything she doesn’t want to do again.

  Easter’s in two days and there stands my father, his suit hanging on him like a garment bag, his face drawn and gray. “Drew.”

  “Hello, Dad. I’m surprised to see you.”

  The understatement of the year.

  “Can I come in?”

  I swing wide the door. “How was your drive?”

  “Tiring.”

  “I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  He nods.

  “Have a seat on the couch.”

  So what do I do now?

  Make tea. At least there’s that.

  I fill the teakettle to the top, giving me some extra time before the water comes to a boil. Man, my father showing up. He never went to anybody. People came to him.

  Okay, so my pride flares as I turn up the gas burner on the stove. As bad as I thought I was, Charles Parrish was ten times worse. It doesn’t seem so strange God gave me a chance at redemption with Daisy, but Charles Parrish is a different story. It’s not that I don’t think God is big enough. I just doubt my father’s intent.

  “You’ve got to forgive him, Drew,” I say to myself. “You have no other choice.”

  No choice whatsoever.

  I want him to squirm. He won’t, though. Charles Parrish doesn’t even know how.

  I set the tea on the coffee table.

  “You’re not having any?”

  “Just water for me.”

  “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

  He’s taken off his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his cotton button-down. He’s loosened his tie. “I don’t know why I’m even here.”

  “Because you’re dying, Dad, and you want to make amends.”

  “Yes. I made so many mistakes.” He leans forward, sips his tea, then casts himself against the back of the couch. “That drive took it all out of me.”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  I head back to my room, grab my quilt and pillow, and a while later my father sleeps like the dead right there on the couch.

  God help me, I can’t forgive him. I can’t find it in my heart. It’s not there. I pray for God to soften my heart. I was in rebellion for so long, I don’t want to find myself there again. Soften my heart.

  Val enters Shalom with two aluminum serving pans in her arms and a tote bag hanging from her shoulder. “I noticed you ate your fill today. What about that fast?”

  “What do you mean?” I take the pans from her.

  “Oh, please, you’ve been eating rice and beans and nothing else. I’m a cook. I notice these things.”

  “Special dispensation for a wedding?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  I follow her into the kitchen where I set the pans on the worktable.

  She points to the first pan. “Okay, this one’s got potatoes and green beans. That one chicken and salad. You all should be able to eat for a while on this. Want me to throw some in the freezer?”

  “You should. With the Easter feast, some of that will go bad if you don’t.”

  “Okay, good.” She reaches into the tote bag and slips out a roll of aluminum foil. She shakes the box. “Like you guys would have any of this stuff in the most ill-equipped kitchen the world has ever seen.”

  I have to laugh. She’s right.

  “You know, you need a mother superior around here.” She zips a sheet down the cutting blade of the box.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Who’s the guy on the couch?” She spreads the foil on the table, grabs a few pieces of chicken, then lays them on the sheet.

  “My dad.”

  She seals the foil. “Oh, wow.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Val.”

  “What did he do that was so bad?”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “I’ll stay until Vigils if that’s what you need.”

  “You don’t know what you’re in for.”

  “Maybe not. I’m okay with that.”

  “Okay. Let me help you while we talk.” I grab the roll of foil. “You probably won’t believe it when I tell you.”

  “I don’t know, Augustine. Life can be pretty strange.”

  I start right in. “My mother died when I was twelve.”

  “But, Monica …”

  “Just wait, Val, it’ll all make sense in the end.”

  Will it really?

  I have no idea.

  We’re only promised today.

  I time line my life from the age of twelve until college. Pass over the midpoint saying I became disenchanted with my job (to say the least) and picked up in my quest to find Monica.

  It’s midnight when I finish. We’ve drunk two pots of tea.

  “You know, you just can’t tell what people are carrying around inside of them. I just …” Val looks down at her cup. “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time at first.”

  “Val, no offense, but that’s nothing compared to what I’m used to down here.”

  She laughs and her eyes light up in the gloom of the kitchen. They never looked like that, even when she was Daisy.

  “Seems to me, Augustine, you’re talking about forgiving him and all like it’s impossible. And it is, with what you know right now. Have you ever considered you should hear the man out? It might make everything clearer and easier to navigate.”

  Oh. “There would be that.”

  “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll just pray the Vigils in here and get to bed myself. It was a long day. But a good day.” She heads into the main room and returns a few seconds later with the prayer book in hand.

  “When do you all go back out on the road?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Late April.”

  “You excited?”

  She picks up the prayer book. “Normally I’m ready to go by now. But I don’t know, Augustine. Without Lella, I just can’t imagine it anymore.”

  “You were a real pair.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I had Lella to take care of and that was that. That felt like my real job.”

  “Maybe God’s calling you to something else.”

  “I can’t imagine what it could be.”

  Really, Valentine? If you can’t see it, you’re blind.

  I don’t deserve to have her here, though. God knows I don’t.

  But Easter’s coming soon, and Val might be happy to get back on the road, as far away from me as possible. And there isn’t a person in the world, including myself, who’d blame her.

  I stand to my feet.

  “You know, Gus. It just feels like I’ve known you a lot longer than a few months.”

  “Yeah.” I smile. Maybe she’ll figure me out and I won’t have to confess. Maybe she’ll realize the truth, tear me apart, and it’ll be over and done with. Lord, have mercy.

  I transfer Dad to my bed, helping him shuffle along the floor. He says, “Thank you, Son.”

  Val’s sitting on the couch getting ready to pray.

  “Val, I want to serve you. What can I do to serve you?”

  “Stop asking uncomfortable questions like that and stop being so weird.”

  Now that’s a tall order.

  Dad’s just waking up when I walk into the bunkroom.

  “I brought you some coffee from Java Jane’s.”

  “I’m grateful.”

  He accepts the cup.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Just a bit. It all takes away your appetite.”

  “The treatment?”

  “Son, I’m refusing treatment.”

  “What?”

  “They could stem the tide for an extra two or three months, but it’s going to get me. Why go through all that when I’ll die better and sooner without it?”

  “You’re done with life?”

  “Completely. I’ve made a mess of it. Best to just call it a day.”

  “Why did you
come?”

  “Forgiveness.”

  I sit next to him on the bed. “Dad, there’s a big difference between wanting forgiveness for yourself and wanting me to forgive you. As a parent, surely you understand the difference.”

  “Please forgive me, Son.”

  Dear God, please don’t let him start to cry because I can’t take theatrics. Not from this man. It would be way off course for him.

  “Well, you’ve asked now. So you’ve done what you need to do. You’re free and clear.”

  “It’s more than that. I’m done with simply covering the bases. Being technically spotless. I had years of that.”

  “Really? What about the riverboat gambling?”

  “Nothing happened there. I wasn’t privy to the inside knowledge.”

  “But that night at the house? When I voiced my suspicions.”

  “I looked into your eyes and I saw myself in them.” He sets the cup on my nightstand. “So I set you free to figure it out without me, without the pressure I constantly put on you. You were in such bad shape that night. You needed to be set free. I did what I thought was best. Maybe for the first time.” He waves a hand. “I sound like I’m trying to get credit for it, Son. I’m not. I don’t deserve that. I was only doing what I should have done all along.”

  “Why did you stay away from me then?”

  “Because I didn’t want to drag you down any farther. I figured Monica would do a better job with you.”

  “She did.”

  “That’s what I gathered.” He grabs my leg and shakes it. “Drew, I’m sorry for all I did to you. I was blinded by my own ambitions and being so important to people, and so much of what we were doing was with the best of intentions.”

  “Really? Even for you?”

  He shakes his head. “Maybe not. Even those good intentions get tarnished by ambition and fear of losing influence. Power makes good men turn into … something else.”

  “Are your hands clean, Dad? Really?”

  He reads my mind. “I didn’t murder anybody. Does misleading people, lying, manipulating, sullying, taking advantage of others count?”

  Whoa.

  “I’ll make us some breakfast. Is toast all right?”

  “It’s all I could stomach anyway.”

  “Is your suitcase in the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “No. I can get a hotel.”

  “If you can handle it here, Dad, you can stay.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  I stand by his car, a black sedan, and long to beat myself over the head. What did I just do? Am I insane?

  After breakfast I give Dad the newspaper. He says, “No, thank you, Drew. I think I’ll take a nap. Breakfast tired me out.”

  Once I’m sure he’s asleep, I call Father Brian.

  “Okay, Brian, I’m in serious trouble and I don’t care when the NASCAR race is on.”

  “You sound like it.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s troubling you, Gus?”

  “My father showed up.”

  “Oh. No wonder you’re in such a state.”

  “How do I forgive him? He wants to make amends.”

  “Do you have a choice?”

  “I don’t feel it in my heart. I want to be obedient and more than anything, I want to be like Christ who forgives and taught us seventy times seven. But it’s just not in there.”

  Father Brian clears his throat. “If we waited to forgive people until we feel like it, most sins would go unforgiven. Just forgive him, tell God you forgive your father, and let your emotions catch up later.”

  “But is it real?”

  “Do you want to want to forgive him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there you go.”

  TWENTY

  VALENTINE

  I arrange a basket of Easter eggs, the plastic kind, as I sit at the kitchen table early Easter morning. Bobby took a few bucks of mine and ran over to the Dollar General to pick them up along with a baggie of plastic grass. I told him to buy himself a candy bar. He bought two.

  Inside each egg nestles a piece of chocolate and one word written on a piece of paper.

  Kind

  Caring

  Friendly

  Hardworking

  Nice looking

  Loving

  Generous

  Longsuffering

  Gracious

  Peaceful

  Elastic

  And finally …

  Friend

  Yeah, it’s my peace offering to Rick who’s been avoiding me, and rightly so, for a couple of weeks. In the refrigerator two dozen eggs wait to be hidden around the yard of the Laundromat.

  I figure, Why not?

  Coffee streams into the pot and Rick’s head appears through the doorway. “Hey.”

  “Happy Easter, Rick.”

  “Same to you, Val.”

  I stand up and hold out the basket. “Happy Easter, Rick.”

  His eyes hold as much trust as a colander holds water.

  “Here, take it. And I’m sorry.”

  His hesitation is as deep as the wounds I’ve given him. He shakes his head. “Nah. That’s okay.”

  “Rick, I mean it. I’m asking you to forgive me.”

  He looks down at the basket. “And you think a little Easter basket’s going to make up for all the insults and the shoo-aways?”

  “Okay, this isn’t going like I’d planned. Before you wave this away, just look inside each egg.”

  He lifts the basket from my hands like it’s contagious or something.

  “Save the white one for last. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.” I turn my back as he opens the first egg.

  As each egg displays its word, his face softens more and more.

  “Elastic?” He laughs.

  “Well. You know.” I shrug.

  He keeps opening until finally the white egg alone snuggles into the grass. “Okay. Here goes.”

  Friend.

  “My friend,” I say. “Rick, please forgive me. I am so sorry for treating you the way I have. I’m an idiot.”

  “Okay, Val, you’re still my friend.” He rises and puts his arms around me. “Of course I forgive you. You know, it was really nice of you to ask. Can I keep the basket?”

  “It’s Blaze’s.”

  “Oh. How about the eggs, then?”

  “They’re all yours.”

  Roland busts through the door. “Happy Easter! Happy Easter! How’s my favorite sideshow lady?”

  He kisses me on the cheek.

  “What about Lella? Isn’t she your favorite?”

  “You’re all my favorite. But when you came up to me at that fair in Virginia, I knew you were special.”

  “Hey, I couldn’t work in that cafeteria forever.”

  Roland’s Wayfaring Marvels had set up at a fair just out of Lynchburg, in Madison Heights, and some of the ladies I worked with asked me if I wanted to go.

  Lella was so kind when I went through the sideshow. “My, what a lovely scarf. And your hair is just gorgeous! I’ll bet you can use grocery store shampoo because it’s so naturally shiny and full of body you don’t need the expensive salon products.”

  I laugh now as I slide a pan of broccoli cheese casserole into the oven. The hams are cooking over at the Laundromat. “You staying for dinner?”

  “You bet. Three weeks and we’re back on the road. Stuff to do! You excited?”

  “How about a hard-boiled egg?”

  “Sure.”

  When Roland pulled out of Lynchburg, I did too. My father bought me the pickup truck and camper. Roland loved the idea of Lizard Woman and the pay was enough to keep my truck running and propane in the tank of the camper. My needs are small.

  “Maybe I don’t need that seaside house after all.” I hand Roland his egg.

  “Now that’s music to my ears. So you going on the road without Lella?”

  “Is it
for sure?”

  “She called me last night.”

  I inhale down to my stomach. “Wow.”

  “So you still coming?”

  “I’ve got no place else to go, I suppose.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same without you, Val.” He leans forward. “I’ll even give you a raise.”

  “You must be desperate.”

  “Pretty much sums it up!” And he smiles at me like he would anybody else. Roland doesn’t see my scars anymore.

  I like that about him.

  Who was I kidding with that seaside house anyway? “I mean, I love my little camper.”

  “It’s a great little setup.”

  “And when I stop the sideshow, I can make jewelry, traveling around from craft show to craft show.”

  “Or we can grow old together.”

  “You’re already old, Roland.”

  “You said it, Val.”

  I’ve got to leave here. I’ve got to go back. Maybe Charmaine’s wrong. Maybe I can turn my making a living into a real life.

  I pick up the kitchen phone. My father’s on the other end.

  “Happy Easter, Daisy!”

  “Happy Easter, Dad!”

  He said he was going to church with his wife today, it being the quintessential Christian holiday and the Episcopalians could do it up better than at his church.

  “You got any plans?”

  “Not really.”

  I don’t feel like explaining it all.

  Despite all of Augustine’s pleadings, I’m not attending the Easter service.

  “It’s one thing for the kids to see me at the Laundromat, and I made an exception for the wedding, but Easter is about lambs and flowers and the Resurrection,” I say on the phone as he pleads with me one last time. “My face will just be a distraction.”

  “No way. Oh, come on, Val, you’ll have a good time.”

  “Nope. But you’re coming over later on, right? Rick says we’re all going to sit and watch The Robe. And I’m making caramel corn.”

  He sighs. “Oh, all right. Eating your food is such a chore.”

  We hang up.

  “I feel like it’s my first real Easter,” I say to Bartholomew as I brush my hair. He says I should have seen the first one!

  We were all scared to death, says John.

  Phillip shakes his head.

  I buzz downstairs and arrange the pans of food in a couple of cardboard boxes. Those Laundromat people want a feast? They’ll have a feast.

  “Ready to go over?” Blaze slides into the driver’s seat of her station wagon.