by Lisa Samson
“I know. Let’s roll out the red carpet!”
“What? Have you gone crazy, Mrs. Summerville?”
“Absolutely. Stark raving mad, as my mama used to say.”
Prisma stopped. “Why do you want to do this?”
“Well, think about it, Prisma. Bradley is the key. If we can get Flannery to love him, and Lark to accept him, that’s the answer.”
“One big happy family, is that it?”
“Sort of. Is that an impossible task?”
“Probably.”
I tucked my hand in her arm. “But it’s worth a try, right?”
“I’m game. I guess. Although I’m not so sure about him and Lark getting back together.”
“Not back together like that. Just good friends.” Prisma hooted. “Good friends? Oh, Mrs. Summerville, you’ve been watching too much TV before bed!”
“Oh, come on. It will be fun.” Excitement filled me. “What time will he be at the house tomorrow?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Do we have enough in for a nice meal?”
Prisma rolled her eyes. “Now what do you think, Mrs. Summerville?”
I rolled mine back at her. “Let’s finish our stroll and go home, Prisma.”
A hard night lay ahead for all of us.
Lark
I REMOVED THE PRAYER PHONE off the hook that night after I returned home from playing at the wedding. So proud of myself for even taking the gig, I felt like a traitor to love, sitting there at the organ. Who was I to take part in wedding festivities? I’d fouled up the institution of marriage so thoroughly I didn’t deserve to play “The Wedding March.” I didn’t.
It wasn’t that I was feeling sorry for myself, really. I ached so deeply for Flannery I had no idea what to do.
PRISMA
“NOW, MRS. SUMMERVILLE, I think this is going too far! He could have taken a cab from the airport. He can afford it.”
I’m telling you the truth, they’ve gone crazier than ever around this place!
But when she pulled a sign out of her purse and unfolded it, that crossed the line. With Asil at the wheel of the Bentley, we’d ridden all the way down to BWI where Asil dropped us off at ticketing, walked all the way to the security checkpoint—huffing and puffing I hate to say—and to make sure we made it on time we left an hour earlier than we needed to.
And now a sign?
“Mrs. Summerville, I will walk out of this terminal and get in that car without you and have Asil drive on home if you do not put that sign away.”
“But I spent an hour on it. It looks cute, don’t you think, with the heart stickers? I’m so glad we had those scrapbook supplies.”
“Yes. It’s cute all right but not for that rock star. Remember what he did to your daughter!”
There, that might convince her to put it away.
But Mrs. Summerville got quiet. “Believe me, Prisma Percy, I’ve never forgotten what he did to Larkspur.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. Why do I do these things? Why don’t I just keep my mouth shut?
“And that’s why I’m trying to help here, to maybe give Lark a little peace, Prisma. She deserves it. You’re right about the sign though. As Newly would say, ‘It’s a bit over the top, Mother.’ ”
I laughed. “That was a good impersonation.”
“It’s one of my secret talents.”
So I walked back to the Starbucks cart and bought us each a cappuccino. We sat for an hour, and when Bradley del Champ walked up the ramp at three, Leslie took my hand, breathed in, and said, “I’ve never meddled before, Prisma. Let’s hope we don’t mess this up.”
And I said, “Amen to that.”
Lark
WATCHING THE GANG PULL UP IN THE BENTLEY with Bradley sitting among them, it was all I could do not to put my hand through the wall. Not that I’m strong enough for such tantrums or anything, but I felt like it.
What was this all about?
And boy, did this anger feel good!
Yet a girl shouldn’t feel this mad on a Sunday.
Still, I pasted on a somewhat-smile and opened the side door and yelled, “Come on in, and be quick about it. It smells like something’s burning!”
Prisma shot out of the car and ran across the courtyard and through the door. She yanked open the oven door, examined the perfect roast underneath its tinfoil tent, then glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow.
“You deserved that, Prisma.”
“I still work for your mother, baby. I’m not any more happy about this than you are.”
Bradley came inside. “Wow! It looks just like I remembered.”
Mother followed. “I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an indictment.” She set her purse on the kitchen counter. “Well! I’m exhausted. I’m going up for a nap. Supper’s at seven, Prisma?”
“Yes, Mrs. Summerville.”
I stood there observing this well-oiled machine before me. Mother, so tired, yet smooth and gracious. Prisma fussing over the food. Asil out hosing off the car.
“Lark,” he said and held out his arms. And I went into them just like always. I hugged him back and watched as Prisma retreated into her apartment.
I shook my head at my ex-husband. “I guess it’s just you and me, Brad.” And I pulled away.
“I know this is a hassle for you, babe. Listen, I told them to just take me to a hotel, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“I hope they didn’t convince you to stay here!”
“No. Now that I could refuse graciously. Whoa, look at you! I love that dress.”
I’d unearthed a light pink tulle creation at the thrift store. “Thanks. Your daughter is wearing off on me. You want to sit in the den or on the porch?”
“The porch sounds nice.”
So we sat there on the stodgy cedar chairs, him in his rock-’n’-roll jeans and me in my thrift-store regalia, and I told him about Flannery’s reaction. “I have no idea what she’s thinking, Brad. She’s upset at me, I’m sure, and probably at you.”
“She shouldn’t be upset at you.”
Hah, like that was even remotely true. “Anyway, I don’t envy you. Suddenly up and appearing like this all these years later. Are you just going to show up on her doorstep?”
“Well, I was kind of hoping you could help me out.”
“No way, Brad. You are on your own.”
“Lark—”
“How does it feel?”
And then he started to weep.
Oh man! Can’t I even have one small moment of triumph?
With a sigh I reached out to comfort him.
Oh man!
“Do we even have James’s number?” I asked Prisma after Asil left to cart Bradley to the hotel. “I’m assuming that’s where they went.”
Prisma sat at her desk. She pointed to the screen where an e-mail with financial figures hovered. “Look at that. Do you see there? Days of Summer is doing better than ever.”
“How come?”
“Newly. He does the investing. Or heads that up anyway.”
“He does? I didn’t know that.”
“There’s lots you don’t know, baby.”
“Obviously.”
“Pull up a seat.”
So I did.
Prisma took a sip from a teacup near the mouse pad. “So you’re not going to let this thing with Baby Girl rest? You’re going to do something about it?”
“I have to.”
In a rare display Prisma reached out her hand and caressed my cheek. “Good for you, baby. You’re learning.”
“Oh, Prisma. You think so?”
She nodded. And a look of sadness melted her features. But a smile quickly replaced it. “Let me get that number for you.”
A few minutes later I rested on my window seat and dialed the portable phone. It rang only twice before I heard James’s voice.
“James? It’s Lark Summerville.”
“Hey, Mrs. Summerville. How you doing?”
“The q
uestion is, how’s Flannery?”
“Coping pretty well considering the circumstances. But she’s the type, you know?”
“I know. Can I speak with her?”
“She’s at work.”
I thought for a moment. “When does she get off?”
“She’s usually done by 10:30. I was going to pick her up then.” He coughed. “Unless, of course, you want to.”
I gripped the phone. “You think I should?” Could I drive all by myself?
“Yeah. Can I be, like, totally honest with you, Mrs. Summerville?”
“Yeah, but please call me Lark first, okay? Mrs. Summerville is my mother.”
He chuckled. “Sure. Look, it’s like this. Flannery feels like the adult in her relationship with you.”
Ouch.
“I know it may be hard to hear that. But the way I see it, you might as well know.”
“I appreciate it.”
“So you gonna go pick her up?”
“I haven’t driven in years.”
He said nothing.
“I haven’t even kept my license up. I thought I’d get it renewed, but I haven’t gotten up the guts.”
“The traffic won’t be bad that time of night,” he said with optimism.
“Okay then. Don’t worry about her. I’ll bring her home.”
“And all you have to do is get there,” he said. “She can drive home.”
“After what you just told me? Not a chance.”
“Well, I’ll talk to you later then.”
I needed to not blow this. “James, congratulations. If this conversation is any indication, I think you’ll make a fine husband for my daughter.”
“I’m sure going to try …” And then he sounded like he wanted to say my name, but all the available choices felt uncomfortable.
“Mom?” I supplied, thinking, My gosh, I’m only forty-one!
He laughed. “Okay, why not?”
We said more uncomfortable good-byes, then I hung up the phone and went to find my mother.
Leslie
I WATCHED LARK PULL PRISMA’S DUSTER out on the road, stepping on the brakes every other second, the car dry heaving itself out of sight.
Oh, heavenly Father.
Standing by the window a moment longer, I prayed like I had never prayed before. A crucial moment faced all of us, and it lay completely in the hands of my daughter.
A few months ago that thought would have frightened me silly.
Lark
THE ONLY GOOD THING I CAN SAY about getting in that car and driving off is that it kept my mind from dwelling too intently on my mission. I might have gone and turned around.
But I didn’t.
I stopped at red lights, green lights, stop signs, yield signs, oncoming cars, parked cars.
With the horns blaring all around me, it was the loudest night going north on Charles for a very long time.
Where did Bradley go? Did he go back to his hotel?
Oh, it makes me sick the way he still puts butterflies into my stomach.
The creep.
Because of him I was driving the Duster hoping and praying my daughter didn’t hate me.
Whoa! Almost didn’t see that turn!
Towson already? I’m already here?
God help me. Please tell me what to say.
Flannery
OH, WOW! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT when I see Prisma’s Duster at the curb and Mom at the wheel. Sometimes, a small thing will tell it to you like it is.
The only way I can describe what came over me is Divine Compassion. Sometimes I think Jesus lets you view people the way He does.
I see a woman with a shattered heart sitting there behind the wheel of that car. And I see somebody who does the best she can. Is Mom perfect? Far from it. But that is not my problem. My problem is how I accept her knowing she’s lied to me all those years.
That is my problem.
As usual, I need to be the adult.
But I love Mom, don’t you see?
As soon as she sees me, she jumps out of the car.
The shock of the situation hits me. This is totally not my mom.
“Flannery!” she yells.
I walk over. Something inside me makes me want to at least make her sweat. I cross my arms. “Mom. What are you doing here?”
“I called your apartment to talk to you, and James suggested I come pick you up.”
That rat. “But you don’t drive anymore.”
“I know. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Actually, it’s a good thing.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. Let’s go before you get a ticket for being in a no-stopping zone.”
“Oh no!”
“And, Mom, I’m driving. I really am.”
She doesn’t argue. But once we are in the car she says, “I told myself I wasn’t going to let you, but then after the drive over here, I realized that a mother tries to keep her child safe and happy as much as possible, so if you offered, I’d say yes.”
Safe and happy. That’s all she was really trying to do, wasn’t it?
We make up. Say all the right things, hug, and cry. And she apologizes. In a really heartfelt way. I don’t realize that’s what I have been looking for until the words are out of her mouth. When we sit in the drive of the apartment house, she says, “So are you going to see your father?”
“Someday. But I’ve decided I’m not going to make it easy on him, Mom. He’s got to know he can’t just mess with people like that.”
“He’s asking for your phone number.”
“Go ahead and give it to him. But don’t tell him where we live, okay?”
She nods.
That night after James and I have some lovin’ time, and let me tell you, it is all so totally worth the wait, I ask him, “Should I just forgive him and be done with it?”
He pulls me close to his chest. “Don’t know, babe. I’d make him sweat a little, but I wouldn’t take it too far.”
“I want to see if he’s really changed though.”
“The last thing you need is for him to tire of the situation.”
I kiss his chest. “See? That’s exactly right. What if he shreds my heart like he did Mom’s?”
“He already has, babe.”
“Yeah. I guess I don’t want those threads snipped into smaller pieces.”
James kisses my hair. “But you know you have me to fall back on, babe.”
And Mom had no one all those years ago. Man, I am glad I forgave her!
“I saw the final book in her postcard collection the other night,” I told James.
“Yeah? How far downhill could it go from Zelda the Frog Impersonator?”
“Lots.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
And I told him about three-legged men, two-headed people. “Not your garden-variety midgets,” I said.
“I guess not.”
Bearded women, human horns. Elastic skin, impervious skin, exaggerated curvature of the spine. Then there was some guy named Coffey, The Living Skeleton.
“I kid you not, James. The guy was in perfect health and looked like a skeleton. But then there were the others, victims of severe muscular atrophy, the whole nine yards. It was horrible.”
“Why do you think her collection took that turn, babe?”
“Maybe because she felt sorry for them? You know? I mean, maybe it helped her realize she wasn’t in the worst straits. Maybe it kept her going to know those people still made it somewhere, despite their shortcomings.”
“In a freak show?”
“Okay, maybe that’s a stretch.”
I know James thinks it’s all weird. And I do too. But I know my mom, and I know she didn’t collect them to make fun of them. Maybe she wanted to preserve their memory somehow. Maybe she wanted to somehow show that she understood. But I can’t even say that to James.
PRISMA
“HELLO, SON.”
“MAMA!”
“How’s Caprice doing?”
“Pretty good. Five months to go.”
“Are you having one of those ultrasounds done?”
“We want to be surprised.”
I slapped my thigh. “Good for you! Me, too.”
“How are things on Greenway, Mama?”
“Busy as usual. I’m tutoring Mrs. Summerville on the goings-on in Days of Summer.”
“Oh? Interesting.”
“Yes it is.” And sad. I felt so sad, and yet so much stood before me. “So, you found me a house yet?”
Sinclair laughed. “Almost. I’ve narrowed it down to two.”
“Send me pictures.”
“Good idea. I’ll do it over the Internet. And remember, we can add the porch and the fence.”
H’m. “So they don’t have porches and fences?”
“No, Mama.”
“I’m not moving down until I have a porch and a fence.”
“I know that, Mama.”
“Good. Just so long as we understand one another.”
Sinclair chuckled. “Mama, you never change.”
“Some people never do.”
“Mama, speaking of people that never change, what’s happening with Bradley del Champ? Caprice saw on Entertainment Tonight that he cancelled several engagements for his group this month. He still in Baltimore?”
“Yep. Sure is. Trying hard.”
“H’m. You think he’ll win Baby Girl over?”
“He’d better!”
“That’s what I say. Gotta run, there’s a deacons’ meeting at church Tuesday night and I’ve got to get my agenda ready.”
Oh, my son! I’m so proud of that boy. Head deacon.
Now Bradley del Champ could learn a few lessons from my son. Sure, he learned loyalty with that woman he abandoned Lark and Baby Girl for. But can Lark really forgive him? I sure don’t know. Because, to tell you the truth, I’m having a hard time forgiving him myself.
October
Lark
I LIVED FOR YEARS IN LONELINESS, and now two men vie for my affection. The autumn wears on. Bradley swears he will wear Flannery down and get her to see him. “I spent twenty years trying to forget about her—which I never could—and I’ll spend however long it takes to win her back.”