Waking Up Joy

by Tina Ann Forkner

  I smiled. “It’ll be our little joke.”

  Ruthie, always helpful, began collecting the papers and clutter, but I grabbed her hand and pulled her to my side.

  “Let’s wait until the Uncles say it’s safe to walk around here. Let’s sit in the kitchen.”

  Ruthie smiled, the stack of papers and pages in her hands momentarily forgotten. I reached out for them and set them on a dusty side table. We sat opposite the wide kitchen window at Momma’s heavy, painted farm table. I ran my hand across the paint that had been rubbed away over the years, glad the tornado had not taken it, too, or the grandfather clock, or any of the things that were really Momma.

  Just the charms that only she cared about.

  I was about to survey the damage in the orchard.

  “Jimmy.” There he stood in the doorway, right in front of me. I could smell his Old Spice cologne and the morning’s coffee still on his breath. Those darn butterflies stirred inside my chest. How could I feel like this just after a near disaster? I touched my hair. It felt chalky. I must have looked like a mess.

  “The town’s fine, but we’re going house to house out this way to check on people. Phones are out.”

  “Oh.” That was right. He was the mayor. He was just doing his job, not stopping by to check on me—or the charm.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded that I was. Told him who was in the house and promised to have River call as soon as the phones were up.

  “Thanks, Mr. Mayor.” I wondered if I sounded sarcastic like I hoped. I reached for the doorknob, but before I could pull it shut, his eyes fell on the mess in our living room. Without being invited in, he stepped around me into the house. His troubled gaze rested on the hole in the floor and up to the ceiling.

  I didn’t explain; didn’t have to.

  “Any more damage?”

  No, Jimmy. I never found it.

  “River’s checking it out. Rory’s helping.”

  “Let me know. I’m happy to help when they get ready to rebuild it. Until River has the house inspected, you and Ruthie probably shouldn’t be inside the house.”

  He stood there.

  “Oh, you mean, now?”

  He nodded. I called for Ruthie and we inched out on the porch; we sat in the rocking chairs, avoiding the swing, which would have caused way too much movement for my taste at the moment. When we were settled, Jimmy nodded and then disappeared into his big black truck as if I was just any citizen of Spavinaw Junction, who had just survived a tornado.

  I suddenly felt exhausted and for a minute I regretted pulling my IV out and sneaking out of the hospital.

  River walked out on the porch and I told him the town was fine. “Do you think everyone at the hospital was okay? I forgot to ask Jimmy.” I thought of Doc and Clara, and all those who had watched out for me during my coma.

  “I’m sure they are, or he would have said.”

  Gravel crunched. Two cars pulled into the drive as Jimmy’s truck drove out.

  “Mom!” Ruthie cried, and her teenage self morphed into a little girl as she ran to meet them. Car doors burst open and out piled Nanette, Carey, Rory’s wife Faith, and all their kids, which basically would fill up that little school in Little House on the Prairie.

  I held my arms open, while the kids piled over me and my siblings made over me, telling me how happy they were we were all okay, how nobody could have guessed my homecoming would be like this.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  It turns out that River was right about Doc and Clara being fine.

  “How’d you manage to get out of the house?” Donna asked when I stopped at her store, aptly named Miss Donna’s after her mother, and now her. She handed me a can of the new Diet Coca-Cola. “Carey makes it sound like you are still too fragile to leave.”

  “The boys sent me to get something at The Greasy Wheel. I decided to take a detour and escape.” The bell dinged.

  “Joy Talley,” Doc said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” My breath caught in my throat. His eyes traveled over my yellow sundress dress and back up to my face.

  “You look—so different than when I saw you last.”

  I smiled, hoping my face wasn’t as red as I suspected. I could have told him he looked different, too, all dressed down in his Levi’s.

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah. It’s a good thing. Not that you looked bad last time I saw you. It’s just that now . . .”

  “Now, I’m not wearing a hospital gown.”

  “Where you headed?” he asked. “Can I walk with you?”

  Next thing I knew, we were walking toward the parking lot at the edge of town, which isn’t a very long walk, unless you’ve recently been immobile for an entire week. Doc slowed his steps for me and I was surprised at how easy he was to talk to, once you got past the heart throb part of him.

  “Hey, uh.” He ran a hand along the back of his head, like he was considering if he should say something. “You wanna, maybe, meet me for a cup of coffee some time? Maybe a Coke?”

  “Is that allowed?”

  “Why not?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to you more.”

  “I mean, because you were my doctor.”

  “True,” he said, like this was a big dilemma. “Of course, I was your doctor in the ER. Now you go to someone else, right?”

  “Dr. Duncan.”

  “Right,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  So, when he asked, I gave Doc my home phone number, which I don’t think I’d ever given to anyone. Certainly not to Jimmy. Of course, Jimmy already knew it, but he had never called, now, had he?

  *

  When I thought about it later, I decided that Doc was just being nice. Why else would he want to have coffee with me? I didn’t know how long you were supposed to wait on a phone call from a man before giving up, so after one day, I forgot about it. Besides, I had things to do.

  You might think that after being in a coma for only a week, a person might be too exhausted to do anything at all, but then you don’t know me. I started my engine back up the day after the tornado, taking the little kids fishing at Spavinaw Junction Creek, scrubbing the dust off the floors, planting summer flowers, and pruning away the dead branches left in the tornado’s wake in the orchard. I was so glad the trees had not been destroyed. The orchard, if you could call it that since it was so small, had always been special to Momma, and to our whole family, all the way back to great and great-great grandparents I’d never even met.

  While we kids didn’t like repeating Momma’s stories, she never let us forget that our special, if not actually remarkable, history wasn’t limited to the house with its creepy chimney. Outside, the fruit trees sprawled along the north side of the house encircling our ancient magic apple tree that, magic or not, I’d always imagined concealed more Talley secrets and love affairs from days gone by. Jimmy had kissed me beneath that apple tree.

  When Momma thought Jimmy was too wild for me, he would hide in the tree and I’d climb up to meet him. We even joked that since it was magical, it would hide us from her. And maybe it had. Who knows? Sometimes Momma had even cut the branches in full bloom and sold them at Miss Donna’s store in town. People bought them for good luck. Those kinds of things, the tree, the teas, the chocolate—those were the good things. We might not have thought they really worked, but they didn’t embarrass us. Who doesn’t need that kind of magic in their lives?

  We weren’t sure how old that tree was, but the stories passed down told that it was there when our people first built the house—like Lucky the first, second, or third, we didn’t know—and surprised everyone by living for so many decades. Its branches were easy to scale with its numerous arms reaching out like an old grandmother welcoming us to her bosom. Which is exactly why, if I’d been planning to die, I would’ve definitely used the magic apple tree to hang myself, or even jumped off one of its branches into the orchard well, an
cient itself by any account and unused.

  Who knew how deep that well really was? Daddy always said it tapped into the spring water from above and we had proof that the well opened into a honeycomb of caves. Some geologists once asked if they could explore them, but when one of the men drowned and they liked to never have gotten him out of the crevice he was wedged in, nobody asked to explore it again. If I’d have jumped in there to kill myself, maybe I would’ve disappeared into its bowels forever like in my nightmares—but never mind that.

  “The point is,” I told Bobby and Ruthie, “Is that I didn’t try to kill myself, no matter what people say. So whatever you hear, don’t believe it.”

  “We know that, Aunt Joy.” Ruthie’s face turned pink. “But I don’t know what the aunts and uncles think.”

  “Yes, you do,” Bobby said. He smiled, looking for all the world like a teenage version of my dad. “They think you’re nuts.”

  “Bobby!” Ruthie said. She slapped at him.

  “Now, you two; stop that!”

  Nuts? Carey, you are such a drama queen!

  “I didn’t mean to be rude, Aunt Joy,” Bobby said. “But, I heard them talking and they think that rope cut off your blood flow to your brain. That’s why you had all those dreams and thought you heard everyone talking during your coma.”

  “But Doc said her brain is fine,” Ruthie said. “All those specialists from Tulsa looked at her.”

  “It’s crazy Aunt Carey you have to worry about. She’s the one who really thinks you’ve gone off your rocker.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Aunt Carey is just stressed, and sometimes when she gets mad she says things she doesn’t mean.”

  What could I expect from Carey anyway? She was our very own queen of crazy. Oftentimes, the only person who could calm down her excitable nature was Reverend Wilson. He had a calming effect on everyone, but it seemed to go right to Carey’s core faster than with the rest of us. Thank God for him, because not even Momma could calm her down when she makes a fuss. I wondered what Carey would think if she could have heard Momma all the times she’d told me, “Don’t mind her, Joy. She’s nuts.”

  Momma.

  I thought about when I’d settled her into the chair the morning before she died. She asked me to pick one of the daffodils, late blooming that spring. Later, I would think the daffodils came late, just so that one could bloom on that day. They were her favorite flower, and mine too, so I’d plucked one from a sunshine-dappled spot in the orchard and held it out for inspection. She took it and gave me a contemplative smile. I’ll always wonder what she was thinking about, but I hadn’t asked. I’d smiled back, making sure she had her blue, crocheted lap quilt and her walking stick, in case Reverend Wilson dropped by to take her for a walk, and planted a kiss on her forehead. A kiss goodbye, it turned out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‡

  One of the things I missed most, when I was in my coma, was cake. Strawberry-lemon, of course—chocolate, carrot, you name it, I wanted it. So, during the weeks after my coma, I cooked up a storm. Baking was my thing. And we’re not just talking cupcakes, although I made my share of those. We’re talking oodles of five-layer cakes with fresh flowers on top, French-looking pastries with Momma’s secret frosting, and even donuts, which Miss Donna’s shop bought to sell at her place in town every Monday morning at 5:30 am. One day, when Ruthie and I were right in the middle of baking a devil’s food chocolate cake, I heard a dog yapping.

  But we don’t have a dog.

  We rushed out to the front porch to see Jimmy—looking hunky in his boots and Wranglers as usual, which was beside the point, but true—with the most adorable puppy I’d ever seen.

  “What made you think we needed a puppy?” I asked the mayor quietly after Ruthie took the dog into the orchard to play. What I was really thinking, was why would he bring me a puppy?

  How am I going to keep from falling back in love with you, Jimmy?

  But of course, I already was. He made it so hard to be angry. We still had the past to deal with, but sometimes I wondered. Did we have to deal with it at all? Was it possible that the past could just stay buried in the rubble of the tornado?

  “He needed a home. You needed a friend. So, I checked with your brothers and they said to bring him out.”

  He was standing close enough that his sleeve brushed my bare arm, sending a shiver up behind my neck. I reached back and rubbed, a habit that I’d developed since the accident.

  The mayor had turned to leave.

  “Jimmy.” He turned back expectantly. “Um, do you have time for some iced tea?”

  Was that a sparkle in his eyes?

  I felt stiff and unsure as we walked up the porch steps, and even more awkward as we sipped our tea in silence, watching the kids play with the new puppy. Bobby had come out of the house and was helping Ruthie name it.

  “What are we going to call him,” Ruthie asked.

  “Mutt. Let’s call him Mutt,” Bobby suggested. “Come here, Mutt!” And wouldn’t you know it, the little mutt ran straight to him. But Ruthie was right. We couldn’t call him Mutt.

  “Come here little fella,” Bobby said, but the puppy ran past and stopped to pee on the fresh dirt where we’d planted a daffodil bulb. They laughed as he ran to the next and peed there too.

  “Let’s call him Daffy,” Ruthie said.

  “Why?” Bobby gave her the ‘you’re crazy’ look.

  “Short for Daffodil. Since he keeps peeing on them.”

  I sighed, thinking that Daffy was more entertaining than his giver, who sat beside me, stiff and quiet for a while, before handing me his empty glass, nodding, and climbing into his truck.

  Sometimes, when I was mad at Jimmy for his aloofness, I found myself wondering how Doc was doing. I thought about going to the hospital to see him when I drove past one day, but realized that was ridiculous and weird. He hadn’t called. Still, I thought of him sometimes. How could I not? He had saved my life.

  *

  In the middle of all the gardening and cooking, I had to constantly clean up after Daffy, as well as after River and Rory, who were busy every day spreading mortar and stacking bricks to rebuild the chimney. Everyone agreed that we still wanted an Inglenook hearth, because of its openness, and the boys agreed to build a few shelves inside to honor the past, but in the future, we wouldn’t hide charms inside the chimney. This one would meet building codes and be fully functional.

  All of the ancient charms had been hauled away to the dump in buckets, or swept into a corner to sift through later. I rummaged through that mess several times dusting a few special things off and wrapping them in tissue to be stored away, but of course, I came up empty-handed when it came to what I really was looking for. It appeared that it really was gone.

  There was a knock one afternoon and I looked up see Jimmy at the door.

  I attempted to smooth the frizzy strands of hair sticking out of my pony tail. Why did he always show up without warning?

  He stood in the doorway for a moment, then touched my shoulder before moving past to talk to my brothers. I wondered if he had any idea how just a touch on my shoulder like that made me feel.

  “Thanks,” I heard the boys telling him. “We’re good, but thanks for the offer.”

  “There’s some tea in the fridge though. Joy won’t you pour him a glass?”

  I wasn’t sure what my brothers were up to, but all I could do was pour him his glass of tea and invite him to sit out on the porch like before.

  Out on the swing, we sat side by side, our thighs touching because Jimmy’s frame was so big he took up over half the swing. The heat from his leg touching mine made my hands shake, causing the ice to clink against the sides of my glass.

  Oh, heavens.

  There are so many things I wanted to say, but I wanted him to speak first. I felt like he had a lot to explain and I refused to make it easy on him.

  Why are you here?

  I didn’t know if he was there as the may
or, the music leader from church, or just Jimmy. And if he was there as Jimmy, which Jimmy was it? My old lover? Or the widower who wouldn’t take off his wedding ring? And he wouldn’t talk!

  Maybe he’s waiting to see if I found the charm.

  I reached for his empty glass, but instead, he took mine and set them both on the floor of the porch. Then he took my trembling hands in his, rubbed them until they stopped shaking. When he pulled me to my feet, my knees went all wobbly, but he very gently wrapped his arm around my waist. I did not dare look up, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away when he placed his hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes and let him pull me gently to his chest.

  Oh, Lordy.

  If he had tried to kiss me just then, I wouldn’t have stopped it. I half-hoped he would, half wouldn’t. I longed to feel his lips on mine, to feel the warmth I used to know so well, and yet I was still pretty mad at him for marrying Fern. When he leaned down and kissed the top of my head, I felt like a child who had just been offered a cookie and then someone stole it from me.

  What was I thinking? That he would really kiss me?

  I wriggled from his arms and moved to pick up the empty drinking glasses. I refused to turn around, but when he leaned down and kissed the top of my head one last time, I had to fight the urge to spin around and throw my arms around his neck. His lips pressed into my hair, lingered, and I tried to remember what kind of shampoo I’d used that morning. Lilac-scented?

  It’s too bad he doesn’t have any idea what flavor of lip gloss I was wearing.

  I leaned back into his chest for the briefest moment before he let go of my shoulders. I listened to his boots clop down the steps before he slammed the car door and started the engine.

  Ruthie’s Diary

  Dear Diary,

  It has been hard to keep up with Aunt Joy since she woke up. She’s exhausting me—a teenaged girl! It’s like she’s a teenager again, too, but I’m not complaining. Aunt Joy is my favorite aunt and she’s going to be happy when I let her know about the box. Thank goodness it was in the attic with this diary and not in the chimney, although I can tell she thinks it was destroyed in the Tornado. I can’t hardly wait to tell her, but I decided I can’t give it to her yet.