Until Forever (Women of Prayer)

by Shortridge, Darlene

  At three thirty Jessi pulled into Aunt Merry’s driveway. Olivia sat up and stretched. “Are we there yet?”

  Obviously, she hadn’t quite opened her eyes yet.

  “Yep, we’re there!”

  With those words Olivia’s eyes flew open. Almost in unison Aunt Merry came bounding out of the house, running toward the car. The very sight of her warmed Jessi’s heart. She was home.

  Olivia was the first to reach Aunt Merry. Aunt Merry bent down and gave Olivia the biggest bear hug ever. “Oh, Aunt Merry, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Aunt Merry wasn’t sure if she would ever let go of the child. Finally, she rose up and turned to Jessi. “My dear Jessi, oh how I’ve missed you, child.”

  She let two tears escape her closed eyes as she breathed in the scent of the woman she’d practically raised as her own. Jessi returned Merry’s hug with clinging desperation. This precious woman was her grounding, her sense of well being, and the sole source from which she felt loved. Each year it was the same. Her soul cried out in protest against the separation that was destined to come. Reluctantly, each woman loosened her grip, and they walked arm in arm to the house. It was at this time that Aunt Merry noticed how small Jessi had become. “Oh, honey, don’t they eat in Wisconsin? You’re nothing but skin and bones.”

  Jessi smiled in response. She knew this was coming. When she had unpacked her summer things and nothing fit anymore, she figured she’d hear it and hear it good from Aunt Merry. Upon walking in the house, she knew the situation would be rectified in no time. Something smelling awfully good was cooking in the kitchen. “Aunt Merry, if I came fitting into my clothes I would have to buy bigger ones when I leave. This way, they start out a little big, and I fit right back into them when I go back home. It’s cheaper this way.”

  She gave herself a quick pat on the back and had to admit it was quick thinking, but it worked and that’s all that counted. She laid it on even a little thicker when she walked into the kitchen and looked into the oven. “Aunt Merry, is this what I think it is? Olivia, I think we had better unload the car and get cleaned up for supper. It looks as though we are having Aunt Merry’s famous pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy for supper. Mmm…homemade biscuits too? Now this is heaven!” Jessi walked over and gave her aunt another hug. “Thank you. You always make me feel like I’m at home when I’m with you.”

  Jessi followed Olivia out the door to the car, and they started carrying suitcases into the spare bedrooms. Aunt Merry had a big two-story house that she had lived in since forever, at least it seemed that way to Jessi. There were four big bedrooms on the top floor, with a shared bathroom, and then another bedroom on the first floor, although Aunt Merry refused to move her things to the first-floor bedroom. She insisted the stairs did her no harm each day, and until she couldn’t possibly climb them, she wasn’t moving. Besides, she liked to eat as much as she liked to cook, and the exercise did her good.

  Both Jessi and Olivia were set up for their visit on the second floor. Olivia’s room would be in Jessi’s old room, which was still done in her childhood choice of pink satin and ruffles, canopy still intact. And Jessi was in the guest room, which Aunt Merry had recently redecorated in a Victorian theme to please Jessi.

  Jessi walked to the window and looked out at Aunt Merry’s garden. There were flowers everywhere and a small pond with a waterfall. Even her little playhouse from childhood had been redone in pretty pinks and greens for Olivia to enjoy. There were new window boxes on the windows with real flowers in them. She remembered having tea parties with her dolls and stuffed animals in that playhouse. Aunt Merry always made little cookies for her to serve to her “guests,” as she liked to call them. Saturday afternoons were perfect for her tea parties, as Aunt Merry could move dinner back a little to give Jessi time to grow hungry again.

  Olivia would never want to leave. This part of her childhood reminded her of a time when she was still good and God still loved her. She hadn’t been so wretched back then, so unlovable. This world would be Olivia’s now, a small part of her childhood that she could share with her daughter. It was looking to be a wonderful, magical summer.

  As she began putting her things away, she noticed small leather-bound books tied with ribbons in each dresser drawer. She picked up the first one just as Aunt Merry called her down to supper. She assumed the books were her aunt’s journals but was quite positive they were left by mistake. Her aunt must have forgotten to remove them when she cleaned the dresser out for her to use. She would ask Aunt Merry about them at the supper table.

  There was barely enough room on the table for all the food. Roast beef with carrots were on the large center platter. A big bowl of mashed potatoes with real butter melting on top and a dish of homemade gravy sat on one of the corners. There were hot biscuits piled high in a basket and bowls of homemade applesauce, freshly pickled beets, and cottage cheese. And anytime mashed potatoes and gravy were on the table you had to have her creamed corn that she put up in the freezer each year. Olivia couldn’t believe her eyes. Jessi had to good-naturedly reprimand her daughter. “Olivia, please close your mouth and sit down at the table.”

  Olivia sat down in her designated spot at the table. “Is it Thanksgiving?” she asked, eyes still wide with wonder.

  Jessi stifled a laugh while Aunt Merry answered her question. “I suppose it’s a little like Thanksgiving. I’m very thankful that you and your mom are here with me, and I wanted to make a special supper to celebrate your being here. Do you think you can find something to be thankful for?” she asked, turning the question back to the child and into a prayer as well.

  Olivia pondered the question for a moment. “Yes, I can. I’m thankful for you and Mommy, the two people I love most in the world, being here with me. I’m also thankful for all this yummy food you made for us,” she replied as she eyed the food, sending the two adults at the table a very obvious message. She wanted to eat.

  “Okay, then, all we have to do is thank Jesus for the food he has provided for us, and then we can eat.” With that, Aunt Merry prayed over their meal. “Dear Lord, I thank you for providing this food for us. We are truly grateful to you. I also thank you for bringing Jessi and Olivia home safe and sound. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

  Olivia waited for the signal from her mom that she could dig in and started filling up her plate. It wasn’t too long before she was stuffed and asked to be excused. She had opened her gift from Aunt Merry earlier, and it was exactly what she had asked for, for Christmas, an American Girl doll and some of the accessories that went with it, including a book. After Aunt Merry told her about the special dessert she had made, she sauntered to the living room to play with her new doll.

  Jessi sat back in her chair. “That was an awesome meal, Aunt Merry. Thank you. Olivia and I will clean everything up. You must be exhausted from all the cooking and redecorating you’ve been doing. Speaking of redecoration, I think you missed a few things when you were cleaning out the dresser for me to use. I found a few of your journals in the top drawer.”

  Hmmm…so she did find the journals. With Jessi, Aunt Merry was never sure what she would bring up and what she would file away on a shelf and never even let her know she had found. Curiosity must have gotten the best of the girl, just as she had hoped it would. Good. “Oh, no, dear. I thought you might enjoy reading through them sometime. Just like Olivia loves your old room and playhouse, I thought you might enjoy reading about some of my experiences while I was growing up. Kind of a family history lesson of sorts. And as for cleaning up, don’t be silly. I look forward to your visit so much that I hardly even notice the work. I love having you both. You add so much life to this house.”

  Jessi looked at her with suspicion. “All right, I’ll tell you what. What if you and I do the clean up together, and we’ll let Olivia play with her new doll, which, by the way, she dearly loves. Thank you again.”

  Both Jessi and Merry rose from the table and began clearing the dishes. Aunt Merry filled her in on her
mother and what little she knew of her father. Neither parent was particularly close to Jessi and only made contact with her on her birthday and at Christmas, by way of a Christmas card. She was surprised they even continued that superficial contact. For some time after the accident, her mother had called and had come around more than usual, but it wasn’t long before things got back to normal. They cleaned up the rest of the dishes, making small talk as they went.

  They sat in the living room for a while and watched Olivia play with her doll. Olivia started yawning and rubbing her eyes. Still being full from supper, they all decided to forego dessert and head to bed. Jessi tucked Olivia into bed and turned the nightlight on. She was surprised Olivia didn’t protest and want to sleep with her. Instead, she fell asleep with a small grin on her beautiful face, the picture of perfect peace, while clutching her new doll, Samantha. Carefully, Jessi tucked her in and gave her forehead a kiss. She whispered, “I love you, little one. I don’t know that you’ll ever quite know how much.” She quietly left the room and returned to her own.

  After getting ready for bed, she sat in the sitting area and sorted through her aunt’s journals. There were three journals. The first one appeared to start when Aunt Merry was sixteen. The first few entries were typical entries for a teenage girl. Which boys in her class were the cutest, who liked who, and what she and her friends did together. The last one she read surprised her, though.

  Sunday September 22, 1963

  I can’t believe I’m writing this down for the world to see. I will keep this in a safe place and hope that no one dares to invade my privacy and read it. Last night Ella, Dorothy, and I decided to sneak out of the house and go down to the Jarvis Family farm. Lester was having a party, and he invited us, but our parents wouldn’t allow us to attend. We decided there would be no harm in going for a little while, especially if we weren’t gone long and were back in our beds before we were found out. What fun we had! We danced and drank punch, which was spiked—I could tell by the taste. I even danced a slow dance with Lester Jarvis. He is already eighteen years old. Why, he’s a full grown man and so good looking. We stayed too long and had to hurry to get back in our beds. Of course, the alcohol in the punch had nothing to do with it! Ha! We were lucky we didn’t get caught. Oh, how much fun we had, though. I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant I would get to dance with Lester again. That’s all for now. Good night diary,

  Meredith.

  Jessi could hardly believe what she had just read. Perfect Aunt Merry, sneaking out at night? Why, she did have a few sly bones in her body. That little sneak. If she ever caught Olivia doing something like that…and then she started laughing.

  Aunt Merry saw the light on and heard the chuckling. She went to bed content that the line had been cast; the bait had been taken. Jessi was hooked. She trusted that God knew what he was doing when he gave her this idea. Jessi had too many illusions when it came to her Aunt Meredith. It was time she knew the truth.

  Chapter 9

  Jessi’s entire day revolved around her visit to the cemetery. She left at sunup and returned after sunset. This day was her special day. Olivia didn’t accompany her. Aunt Merry didn’t. It was hers, and hers alone. She drove to the cemetery in quiet speculation. She thought of all the times she had shared with her son. She remembered the day he was born. The long hours of painful labor were a distant memory with one look into his sweet face. She would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even walking the floors with him at night and getting next to no sleep could not diminish the love she had for this child, the joy he brought into her life. He wasn’t a perfect child, just perfect for her. How sweet and gentle he was. One lopsided grin could brighten her entire day. She relived his birthdays and Christmases. The times she had to kiss his owies when he was little and wipe away tears that were born of frustration from being a late talker. Everything that made Ethan, Ethan, she missed. All his good traits—the kindness and compassion, his willingness to share, his humor and humble spirit—would be remembered until the day she died. Even his stubbornness and his uncanny knack for saying the right thing at the wrong time would be never forgotten.

  She couldn’t understand why others questioned her on not getting over the death of her son. He wasn’t supposed to die. What was so hard to understand about that? She missed him. She lived for him and breathed for him. Was it really a shock that she would continue to miss him after his death? “The grieving period should be over, dear.” “You need to see a counselor, dear.” She’d heard it all from good-intentioned people whose opinions were not asked for. She’d learned to stay away from them. That was part of the reason she’d moved to Wisconsin. Eight hundred miles separated her from the nearest do-gooder. She did get lonely at times, but she’d learned to live her life through Olivia, just as she had done with Ethan. She also learned that her memory of Ethan was with her no matter where she went. She didn’t have to visit his grave every week like she had for the first year after his death. She had found many ways to keep him alive. She had all of her pictures and the mothering journals she had kept from his birth, all constant reminders of the boy who had been stolen from her.

  Jessi pulled into the cemetery fully prepared for a day of work. She had stopped by the nursery and picked up plants that would decorate his tombstone for the summer. She did this each year, even knowing he would pooh pooh the idea of having flowers by his resting place. It made his space warmer and somehow a little more homey. She couldn’t stand the thought of her son lying in the cold ground without any hints of home.

  This year she chose wildflowers to plant. She pulled the car up near the row and opened the trunk. While carrying her supplies to his grave, she noticed someone else had recently visited. She couldn’t for the life of her think who it might have been. Next to his tombstone was a potted plant and a baseball and a glove. She furrowed her brow and figured Aunt Merry would have mentioned this if she had done it. Maybe someone from church. Well, whoever it was, it was awfully nice of them to remember Ethan. Not too many people did anymore. She set the things to the side while she did her planting. She loved working in the soil. She loved watching what she planted grow. Lovingly, she started digging around the small tombstone. She placed one plant after another in the rows she had prepared. When she finished, she pulled the dirt in around the plants and tied blue ribbons around the sturdiest of the stems. Ethan loved blue. It was his favorite color. She scooted back and looked at her work. She began to weep. Regardless of the flowers, the ribbons, and all the care that she’d taken, it was still just a grave. It was cold and dark. She couldn’t stand to think of her little boy in a box in the ground. The ground wasn’t meant for a vibrant, wonderful little boy like Ethan. “Oh, Ethan, I miss you so much. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s sorry, baby. Mommy’s so sorry.”

  Every day she second-guessed her decision to end his life support. Every day she wondered, What if I’d waited one more day? Would he have woken up? The day of the accident was also a constant reminder of her failure. She forgot to make that phone call. If she had, would Mark have decided to stay home? If she’d only checked the answering machine, she would have been home, and Ethan would never have been in the car with Mark. Mark was right; Ethan’s death was her fault. She had failed Ethan as a mother. All of this ran through her mind as she sat next to Ethan’s grave and sobbed. She tried to make it through her visits to Ethan’s grave without falling apart. So far she had not been successful. Time was supposed to be the healer of all wounds, but she wouldn’t allow this wound to heal. It was her rightful punishment for what she did to Ethan. For the pain she sentenced him to, she would live in pain for the rest of her life.

  Jessi sat in the grass for hours that day, reminiscing and wishing. A few times she tried to talk with Ethan. She just didn’t know what to say except that she was sorry and she loved and missed him. She never gave praying a second thought. She no longer even considered trying to pray. Her whole attitude toward God had drastically changed when he refused to answer her prayers
on behalf of Ethan. She used to feel unworthy of his love; now she wouldn’t give him a passing thought. He didn’t deserve it; he took her baby from her. She would never ask anything of him again. He may call himself God, but he certainly wasn’t her God. He never would be. It would be a long time before she realized that by denying God she would never be reunited with Ethan.

  She stood up and replaced the potted plant, baseball, and glove. They seemed right there somehow. Ethan had always asked Mark to play ball with him in the backyard, but Mark never had time. She had done her best to take his place, but it just wasn’t the same. A boy needed his dad to play ball with him. It was just supposed to be that way.

  She turned and walked to her car. If she had cared to glance about her surroundings, she would have seen Mark watching her from a distance.

  Although he felt an extreme urgency to speak with her, he respected her privacy and her need to mourn her son. He could wait until another day to seek her out and ask her forgiveness. He had already taken his turn at the foot of his son’s grave and given his son the glove and ball. It proved an unsuccessful attempt at assuaging his guilt at being an absent and non-attentive father. He had been in prison for over a year when he was notified of his son’s death. He wept for days. He wasn’t even permitted to attend his own son’s funeral. Someday, in heaven, he would be able to apologize to Ethan face-to-face. What a glorious day that would be. As Jessi drove away, Mark looked into the heavens. “Thank you, Jesus. Without you I wouldn’t have any hope of seeing my son again.”