by Gary Parker
He watched her as she came in alone. Then, when he finished his work as an usher, he walked straight to the pew and took a seat on the opposite end. Through the worship, she noticed him glance over occasionally and tilt his ear as if listening to her singing. The sermon seemed to last forever that night, but eventually it came to an end.
Jack moved with dispatch across the pew and introduced himself. Within two weeks, he took her out to eat. A trip to the Lake of the Ozarks followed. By the end of a month, he took his spot right beside her each week when she sat down on the third pew. Just over one year later they married, with the Reverend Wallace performing the ceremony.
Now she wondered—how could she sing without Jack, his right hand holding the hymnal while his left hand touched her lightly in the small of her back? How could she give her offering when the ushers passed the plate, knowing that Jack always passed it down their row, winking to her each and every week as she dropped in their envelope? How could she go back so soon after seeing his body before the altar, lying so still in the coffin just four days ago?
To make it worse, the newspaper had reported the discovery of drugs in Jack’s system. Yes, they had parroted the police department’s declaration that the investigation continued, that no one had made a final determination about suicide or homicide yet. But, that disclaimer wouldn’t stop the talk. Those who knew and loved Jack would never believe he killed himself with drugs, but those who didn’t would reach their own conclusions. And, though she hated to admit it, even in church, gossip would happen. Even with God’s grace, people still sinned, and she knew it.
Unable to face the people, Connie crawled back into bed and stared at the open window to her left. The curtains hung limp there, lifeless, empty of any breeze. With a sigh, she realized that’s the way she felt without Jack—lifeless, cut off from that which filled her up. Before she met Jack, she felt that way often. Droopy and flat, really unattractive. She disliked her small size, so tiny she shopped in the preteen clothing section. Her red hair and freckles and big black glasses made her stand out as a child and she hated that. Given all she disliked about herself, it was no wonder she grew up as shy as a newborn deer.
Jack, though, helped her get past the worst of her timidity. He was small too.
“Small doesn’t mean weak,” he often said. “No more than big means strong. You measure the size of a person from the neck up and from the heart in.”
Staring at the window, Connie felt none of that mattered now. Jack was dead and so was she. She heard the door open and saw Tess standing there. She motioned her closer, and Tess took a seat on the bed. Connie patted Tess on the hand and shook her head.
“I can’t do it,” she said, her voice weary. “I’m just not ready to go back.”
Tess took her hand. “It’s okay, doll, no one expects you in church today anyway. What about the kids?”
“I’ll leave that up to them. If I’m not going, I sure can’t make them go. But if they want to go with you, it’s okay.”
“I’ll ask them,” said Tess, getting up. “Either way, I’ll leave someone here with you.”
“No reason for that,” said Connie. “I’ll be fine.”
“You know better than to argue with me, girl. No reason for you to stay alone. I expect Mrs. Everhart will want to stick around. She tells me she can’t hear the service anyway, and her hearing aid squeaks when she turns it up.”
Connie smiled weakly, grateful for her friends. When she got on her feet again, she would have to do something for all of them. But for now, she couldn’t do anything for anyone.
She waved Tess off. “Whatever you think,” she mumbled. “Tell the kids I’m still tired. But send them in to see me before they go . . . if they go.”
The kids didn’t go to church either. Instead, Connie heard them turn on the television in the den as Tess drove out of the driveway. She started to call out to them, to tell them they had watched too much television lately. But she had no energy to argue, and she let it go.
She slept the rest of the day and into Monday. As the new week started, Connie stayed bedridden, too tired to rise. She dozed fitfully in and out of sleep, twisting and turning, wrapping the covers around her legs in a tangled mess. The bed seemed huge to her as she slept in it, far too big for someone her size with no partner to help fill it. Like a shipwrecked passenger on a deserted island, she moved from one side of the bed to the other, never feeling comfortable on either end.
She dreamed as she tossed, and she sensed she had a fever, though she didn’t bother to check. Her dreams focused entirely on Jack; she saw him first in one place and then in another, in the church sitting in their pew, in the Good Books Store by the cash register, on the road where they walked every morning. He reached for her in each of the dreams, his arms open and enticing and she always reached back, stretching her small body to its limits, but she could never get to him. Her hands stretched out to him, stretched, stretched, but his fingers always fell just beyond her grasp.
He called to her in the dreams, over and over, first from above, then from behind, then from far off in front. She strained to hear his voice, to understand what he said, knowing as she leaned forward that his message carried something vital in it, something she desperately needed to hear. But his words sounded garbled, as if spoken underwater. Try as she might, she just couldn’t make out what he said. When she woke up, she clenched her teeth, frustrated at her inability to reach him, saddened she couldn’t understand his words. Sadness covered her every time she awoke, a sadness deeper than a tunnel and as black as a cave.
Tess brought her food on a regular basis, but she barely touched it. In the mornings she got up to shower, but she didn’t get dressed or put on any makeup. She tried to pray, but found her words empty and tired. Giving up on words, she moaned in her soul and cried out to God. Like Jesus on the cross, she felt abandoned, and the cross of her abandonment was the death of her precious Jack. Her only solace came when she remembered that the Spirit prayed for her even when she couldn’t pray for herself.
Through Monday and Tuesday nights, the dreams continued and she stayed in her room, unable to pull out of the lethargy that wrapped itself like a tightening noose around her heart. As Tuesday dawned, Tess brought her a tray laden with cereal and juice, her concern evident in her face.
“You’ve got to eat, Connie,” Tess insisted, setting the tray on her nightstand. “You’ve probably lost ten pounds this past week, and that’s too much for you. You get any skinnier and we’ll lose you down the drain the next time you shower.”
Connie tried to smile, but her face refused. She knew she looked awful. A glance into the mirror as she passed through the bathroom told her Tess had it right. She had lost weight. Her eyes sunk into her skull, and her face, never heavy, now looked gaunt. Her hair had lost its luster too, its usual bright sheen reduced to a dead rust. But somehow her appearance didn’t seem to matter much. Without Jack, what difference did it make? She left the food on her tray, untouched.
On Tuesday afternoon Reverend Wallace came by, his third visit since Jack’s funeral. Connie barely moved as he sat by her and held her hand.
“We have a prayer vigil going for you at church,” he said, his voice compassionate. “Twenty-four hours a day. We can’t do much else for you, but we can do that. We know you’re going through the worst pain anyone could have. But we believe our prayers will get you through this.”
She mumbled her appreciation but not much else. Reverend Wallace prayed for her, promised to come back soon, then left the room. She heard him talking quietly to Tess in the hallway outside the bedroom door but didn’t pay much attention to what they said. It didn’t matter, really. In her state of mind, nothing mattered.
Jack was dead, and she had died with him. The only man she ever loved had apparently committed suicide. Her love for him and his love for her wasn’t enough to overcome whatever ate at his soul. She might as well admit that. But, it hurt so much to reach that conclusion. To admit that cu
t at the very core of her own sense of self, her own fragile confidence, her own value as a woman and a wife. If Jack’s love for her couldn’t give him the power to fight through his problems, then what worth did she have? Her weariness worsened. On Wednesday evening, one week after the funeral, she refused again to eat any of the food Tess carted into the bedroom and set before her.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, pushing the tray away and burying her head in her pillow.
Obediently, Tess lifted the tray. But this time, she didn’t turn and leave the room. Instead, placing the tray on the floor, she eased herself down on the bed beside Connie. When she spoke, her voice was caring but firm.
“Connie, look at me.”
Connie didn’t move. Her face stayed in her pillow, her eyes closed. Tess touched the back of her head, then stroked her hair.
“Look,” she soothed. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I know it’s got to be awful. . . . Hell on earth. And I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all this hurt. But I’ve got to tell you something, even if you don’t want to hear it. . . . ” She paused for a moment as if gathering courage.
“I’m sure the last few days are normal, even helpful, for someone facing what you’re facing. You’ll probably have more of them in the months to come. Lord knows, I’m no counselor, I don’t know how long or how often something like this needs to happen as a body heals from all this grief. So don’t hear this as any kind of criticism.” Again, she waited, giving Connie a chance to respond. Connie said nothing.
Tess continued. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to hurt. But I got to tell you, your children need to know you’re okay. They need to talk to you, see you eating something. . . . These last few days they’ve seen you before school and when they come home, then right before they go to bed. And every time they see you . . . well . . . you seem a little worse, you know, and it . . . well . . . it scares them. . . . “ The muscles in the back of Connie’s neck stiffened. Though Tess couldn’t see it, the mention of her kids hooked her soul like a barbed lure sinks into a fish. Tess was right. Her condition surely frightened Daniel and Katie. She knew that, had considered it over the last few days, but didn’t know what to do about it.
As if sensing the tightness in her neck, Tess paused, waiting on Connie to speak. But Connie remained quiet.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” Tess said, worry in her voice.“But I pray you’ll soon find enough strength to talk, I mean really talk, with those precious kids of yours. We’re taking care of them for now, doing the best we can, but I got to tell you, they need their mama.”
Connie’s eyes teared up. She had pretty much grown up without a mama or a daddy. Loneliness played with her like a pet played with other kids. Nothing hurt so much. Was she creating the same feeling in her own children through her bout of self-pity?
Tess kept talking. “You may think you’ve got nothing right now, no reason to go on. Forgive me for saying this, but that’s wrong, that’s just pure, out-and-out wrong. You got that good-looking boy and that beautiful little girl, and that’s plenty of reason to fight through all this and make a go of it.”
Scalding tears poured out of Connie and gushed into her pillow. She was pitying herself, she confessed that, and though she believed she had a right to do it, given what had happened, she couldn’t drown in self-pity forever. Not if she wanted Daniel and Katie to survive all this.
Tess pressed on. “Those kids are what you have left of Jack, and I have a feeling that if he could talk to you right now, he’d tell you to grieve, sure, to hurt until you think your heart will snap. But then I think he’d tell you to take Daniel and Katie and your trust in the Lord and live your life, live it to the best of your ability, live it for them and for Jesus. Live it and find joy in it. I think Jack would say, ‘Connie, in the world you will have sadness, but joy comes in the morning.’ That’s what I think he would say. . . . ”
Her pillow soaked with salty tears, Connie bit it, unable to respond. Tess had hit her right where she needed to get hit. She couldn’t go on like this. Her children needed her. But, at the moment, she didn’t know how to meet their needs.
Tess wound down. “So, there, that’s my speech. . . . I’m praying for you, lots of people are. . . . ” Her voice trailed off, and, without another word, she patted Connie on the back one more time, picked up the tray, and headed for the door.
Hearing her leaving, Connie made a decision. She might not know how to meet the needs of her kids, but she had to do something. Maybe the thing they needed most was her, pure and simple. Her presence, her hugs, her tears even, mingled with theirs. She lifted her head.
“Tess?”
Tess froze and twisted around. “I’m here, doll.”
“Would you bring Daniel and Katie to me?”
A grin as wide as Tennessee creased Tess’s face. “Don’t you go anywhere,“ she called, already moving out the door. “I’ll have those kids here in a jiffy.”
Kicking the covers off and climbing out of bed, Connie almost staggered. For several seconds, she leaned against the wall, her legs weak. Black dots swirled before her eyes, but she didn’t black out. Instead, she steadied herself and moved to the bathroom, stopping at the sink and staring into the mirror. Surveying her appearance, she understood why Tess had gotten worried. She looked a mess! But enough of that. Hurriedly, she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and washed her face. Finished, she rushed back to the bedroom. Too late. Katie and Daniel had already arrived.
They sat side by side on the foot of the bed, both of them in jeans, T-shirts, and tennis shoes. They watched stiffly as she eased toward them. Their eyes were rounded wide, and Connie read the fear in them. She almost choked at the sight. Her kids feared for her! They had just lost their dad to death, and now they feared something equally bad for their mom!
Seeing their fear, Connie felt a switch flip on in her soul. Perfect love casts out fear. Well, her love wasn’t perfect, but God’s love was. She would raise her children to know the love of God. Just as she and Jack were doing before his death. From this moment, she would do everything in her power to remove fear from their lives. Though evil had taken their dad, she would see to it that nothing took away their mom. She would stay with them. No matter how much she hurt inside, she wouldn’t give up again. She would show them her hurt and let them share it with her. As a family they would hurt, and as a family they would grow stronger.
At the bedside now, she opened her arms. In one motion, Katie and Daniel jumped off the bed and ran toward her. She bent to pull Katie into her arms, then stood to hug Daniel close to them both. All three of them were crying now, but their tears were mingled with joy.
“Are you . . . are you okay, Mom?” asked Daniel, his voice protective, so much like Jack’s it made Connie’s chest ache.
“Yes,“ she sobbed, her arms around his shoulders. “I’m going to be okay.”
Katie stood on tiptoe and kissed her wet cheek. “You’re back, Mommy,” she whispered. “Daddy told me in a dream you would be.”
Connie smiled hugely. Daddy told her in a dream. Maybe that’s what Jack had been trying to tell her. Go back. Go back and care for the children. Well, she was back. Thank God for holy grace, she was back.
Holding Daniel and Katie as tightly as she could, she made a vow to herself and to God. If she had anything to do with it, she would never go away again. Daniel hugged her on the left. Katie kissed her on the right. She thought of Jack. Yes, he was dead. But he was still with them.
Then it hit her. Right there in the bedroom. The suicide note from the computer, the note that supposedly came from Jack’s hand. Something about it had bothered her from the first moment she read it. But she couldn’t quite put her finger on the problem. Now she did. The note had referred to Daniel and Kate. There you had it. Daniel and Kate, not Daniel and Katie. Never once had she heard Jack refer to Katie as Kate. He had never done it while he lived and Connie knew, as surely as she knew that the Missouri was muddy,
he would never do it the day he died.
Somebody else had written the note. Which meant that somebody killed Jack Brandon.
Snuggling against her kids, Connie decided she had three reasons to live. One, Katie. Two, Daniel. Three, a murderer out there somewhere, a murderer she would do everything in her power to see come to justice.
CHAPTER
9
On Thursday morning, Connie woke up early, threw on a red sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and her walking shoes, and helped Tess fix breakfast for the kids. When everyone finished, she hugged the kids, then walked them to the school bus, Daniel first, Katie thirty minutes later. Watching the second bus drive away, Connie wrapped her arms around her waist and turned slowly back to the house. More tough days would come, she knew that. But for now, she had weathered the storm.
Moving inside, she saw Tess at the kitchen sink, her ringed fingers wet with soap and water as she worked on the morning’s dishes. A warm sensation overcame Connie as she watched her friend. Tess had stayed with her through the worst of it. But now the time had come for her to take her first steps alone.
“Why don’t you go on home for a while?” she said gently. “You’ve been here over a week. Tick’s going to start charging me rent on you, and I’m not sure I can afford it.”
“Oh, I know you can’t afford me.” Tess smiled without turning. “At least Tick tells me he can’t. But I work a lot on credit.”
“I’m sure I’ve reached my limit on that too,” said Connie. “A long time ago.”
“Nonsense, friends never run out of credit with friends.”
Connie walked over and stood by Tess. Taking her by the arm, she spun her around and took hold of both her hands.