“It’s like we’re on a staircase... ” I remembered Tyler’s words from the first day at Shiloh. “... we have to accept what we’ve been given and embrace our circumstances, even if we don’t like them. You know? Reinvent.”
Reinvent. Another moist step under my foot. Life happens on the stairs. I had to consent to my circumstances and keep climbing. I thought of my response that day, “My staircase has wood rot.” I imagined my foot breaking through the wood, twisting my ankle, wrenching my knee, splinters gouging my skin. The tread had given way, but no matter the wounds, I couldn’t let myself get stuck.
Last step. I stood shoulder to shoulder with Mom. She gave the pastor a weary smile as he took her hand. The pastor was a tall man with jet-black hair speckled in gray. Dad always said he was the godliest man he’d ever met. Looking into his tear-filled eyes, I felt like Dad was standing beside him, for some reason. They had been good friends outside of church, and just like Uncle Travis, if I was around either of them, Dad had always been there, too.
“How you holding up?” he asked Mom in his soothing Southern drawl.
“I’m okay.”
“I’ll help best I can.” Mom accepted his offer with a nod, then turned and walked inside. As I moved past him, he set his warm palm on my shoulder. “I’ve been praying for y’all. Your momma told me you have some beautiful portraits of your daddy. Can’t wait to see them.”
“Thanks, Pastor.”
As I stepped into the elongated foyer, cold air blasted my skin. Red carpet, dark paneled walls, the church felt foreign on a Monday afternoon in late October. I wanted to feel warm and comforted, like I did at candlelight service on Christmas Eve. I shivered. Not warm. I glanced through the sanctuary doors. Silver casket, lid open. Not comforted.
Pastor Larry gestured to the right side of the room where he’d set up five easels for my drawings, before he turned to Mom. I scanned the silver box again. Look forward. Don’t think about it. Five long strides and I was standing in front of an empty metal easel, just as Grandpa, Mark, and Grandma funneled through the front door. I placed the first board on its temporary home and looked into my father’s eyes. Twenty-five, young and strong. He reminded me of that actor, the one on the salad dressing jars. What was his name? I bobbed my head like someone stood next to me listening to me banter aloud, until I remembered. Paul Newman—yes. I laughed a bit too loud. A quick glance over my shoulder. No one noticed. I looked back at the drawing and smiled. This was the man I wanted to remember.
When I finished setting out the other four drawings, all of the family had filled the lobby. Woodrow stepped through the doorway, rocking side to side, bum leg curving out like an archer pulling a bow. He wore a gray suit that I figured got resurrected only for such occasions. Ruby followed in a black cotton dress with a thin, red belt around the waist. Thank God. Someone who had hugs to give. I moved straight to her and wrapped my arms around her. She clutched my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. I spotted Grandma. Her forehead furrowed as she sized Ruby up. That’s right, Grandma... Ruby loves me, for me.
Pastor Larry signaled for our attention and instructed us to go ahead and have a private viewing. Mom wanted a closed casket during the service, but we were getting the pleasure of viewing the silver box half open. I glanced at his portraits. That was Dad. Not the box.
A few moments later, we were walking single file down the center aisle. I barely wanted to breathe for fear of looking too alive. Fall colors: deep orange, shades of yellow, and burnt red flowers eased the jarring finality of the silver box. Rows of mahogany pews sat empty on either side, tall wood-plank ceilings met at a sharp peak, blood-red plush carpeting under our feet. We stepped slow like we used to in the Catholic church, palms out, begging for the priest to give communion. Dad wouldn’t have liked it. I could hear him grumbling, Skip the rituals, just prop me by the juke box. Celebrate like the Irish do. I’m part Irish. Good enough.
Mark stopped. I slammed into his back, pushing him forward, chin cracking his spine. I imagined all of us going down like dominoes. He slapped the back of his head. I caught my balance and rubbed my burning jaw.
“Chill,” he whispered over his shoulder.
I stepped back and readjusted. Can’t even walk without slamming something.
Mom stepped to the casket and started to cry. Tears filled my eyes. The circuit that connected us wasn’t shrouded in lies anymore. Her shoulders sagged forward and she clutched her face with her right hand. I blubbered. Audible and squeaky. Snot clogging my nose. A loud sniffle. Mom’s bouncing shoulders. I sucked in another breath. She reached out and touched him one last time, then walked away... crying into her tissue.
Mark moved forward. Standing there for less than a minute, his shoulders sagging in the same manner as Mom, my insides twisted as my big brother wiped his eyes, and moved on.
My turn. Holding my breath, I took three steps and looked at my father for the last time.
I winced. What the hell?
His skin reminded me of plastic, caked with foundation makeup, sunken cheeks powdered with too much blush. They’d attempted to cover the scar on his head with fake hair, but it was two shades too dark. Violet lips, lifeless, bloodless, a stitch peeking out in the center. Who in the hell did this? I’d kick the mortician’s ass if I was Mom. The whole scene pissed me off. Pointless. He didn’t look like himself at all. Maybe he was an impostor or a mannequin they’d dug out of their creepy mortuary. That wasn’t my dad. I made a “humph” sound and walked away. That sucked. The last time I’d ever see him – all plastic and rubbery. Fuck.
Stepping in the lobby, I made my way toward Mom and Mark.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked.
All I could do was glance at her. No words. If I had said what was running through my mind, she would’ve slapped me.
The front doors opened. We turned to see who would come so early.
Megan stepped inside, wearing a black dress with tiny white flowers. Cheeks flushed, she glided toward us quiet as a cat, her soft green eyes downcast.
“Hi, y’all,” she whispered.
She reached out and gave Mom a hug. A quick hug for me, then she stepped to Mark and wrapped her arms around his neck. Mark held her tight, burying his face in her hair, practically lifting her off her feet.
Mom looked at me and smiled. I grinned back. Mark exhibiting blatant affection was completely alien to us. As he released Megan, they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then she turned to Mom.
“I’m so sorry, Claire. I wish I could have been there to help y’all.”
Mom reached out and took her hand. “You’ve done so much already. If you want to see him, please feel free to go on inside.”
Mark took her hand. “I’ll go with you.” Together, they walked back down the long aisle.
At the same time, the rest of the family started filling the lobby. Uncle Travis came out sniffling. It had finally hit him that his brother was gone. He grasped Mom, arms visibly vibrating around her. Gail stepped in, staring into space like she saw something profound that the rest of us couldn’t see. No tears. Just shock.
Grandpa walked in next. Mom was letting Travis go when Grandpa cut in and wrapped his arms around her. She started crying on her dad’s sleeve. Finally, someone in her family bothered to show her love. He cried with her, almost as if he regretted being such a jerk over the years. Grandma ignored them with the usual snide tilt to her head as if she’d been inconvenienced. Glancing around the room, she moved toward my drawings. I turned away. I didn’t want to watch her scoff at them.
Then there was Krissie. I couldn’t understand why she’d even tagged along. She wore a low-cut, too-short-for-church dress, avoiding eye contact with everyone. No one paid any attention to her, including Travis. I stood back, feeling lost and alone.
Mom chatted with everyone, gracious and kind. After fifteen minutes, people started to arrive, so she asked everyone to go into the sanctuary. We lined up in the front pew, sitting like lit
tle soldiers, staring forward as people began to fill the room.
Don’t look back, only forward. No looking back.
At four o’clock, Pastor Larry stepped behind the pulpit. He cleared his throat and looked over the rows full of people. I peeked to my left. The pews were full.
“Several years ago, Brandon and I were at lunch one afternoon,” Pastor started, jolting me to listen, “and I asked him when he’d met Claire. He chuckled as he took a bite of mashed potatoes.” Pastor smiled, remembering the moment. “Brandon went on to tell me they’d been at a wedding of mutual friends when his buddy introduced them. Brandon, a self-proclaimed adrenaline junkie, had no use for settling down with anyone. But then he met Claire. He said, ‘Her hair looked like gold and her eyes were sapphires.’ He told me that when she talked, he felt like heaven had opened in the sky, and he heard angels singing.” Pastor held up his right palm with an amused smile. “I’m serious. This is what a forty-year-old man said about his wife of almost twenty years. I’d never heard such a good ol’ boy, Yankee or not, talk that way. I laughed at him. I said, ‘Brandon... I love my wife, but hold your horses.’ He just smiled and took a sip of coffee. ‘She saved my life, Larry,’ is what he told me. ‘I was a ruined man with a death wish. But then, I met Claire.’
Mom’s cheeks were flushed, face turned down with a shy smile.
“Those were his words.” Pastor Larry raised his eyebrow like he had to convince us. “Then, he told me how she’d snuck out to see him. And how they’d spent hours just talking. His love for Claire was only second to one other, and Claire had told me how she had shared the honor with joy.
“You will seek Me and find Me, when you seek Me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13,” the pastor’s voice echoed off the rafters. “Brandon asked me to read this scripture in this event. His love for God presided above all else in his life. Brandon sought the Lord with all his heart, and I’m confident that he will be received with open arms.” His eyes swept the congregation, where only soft sniffles could be heard. “I’m going to step aside now. There’s someone here who would like to say a few words.”
I hid behind my hair, wiping tears falling faster than rain. Mom offered a white tissue. I snatched it up with a grateful nod and wiped my slick nose. Pastor Larry’s eloquence was impossible to follow. Who would even try? Footsteps. I closed my eyes, warming my cold nose with the soft cotton cloth.
“Who’s that?” Grandma whispered.
“I don’t know,” Grandpa mumbled. “Probably someone from town.”
I let out a sigh, chest wrenched, tense, constricting. I envisioned running toward the side aisle and sprinting out the front doors. Bursting into the air, tainted with rotten sulfur and cat-piss shrubs, I’d fill my lungs and run all the way to Shiloh. I could hide in the park forever. Live off the berries. Sleep in one of the old cabins. There had to be a way to get in. They’d never know I was there.
“Hello, I’m Tyler Vaughn.” His low drawl filled the sanctuary.
I gasped and looked up. Standing behind the pulpit in a tailored black suit, his dark eyes met mine. Oh. My. Gosh.
Heart racing, I wanted to jump up out of the pew. Tyler tipped his head with the tender look he reserved just for me, and then he turned to the congregation.
Mom. I made eye contact with her. “Thank you,” I mouthed.
She patted my leg and pretended to be attentive, even though she looked thoroughly proud of herself. The tightness in my chest faded, as I relaxed against the hard-back pew. What was he going to say about Dad? Squirming on my tailbone, it took everything in me not to run up there and make an ass of myself.
“Several months ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Brandon.” Tyler’s mellifluous tone was relaxed and gracious, as if he were talking to a room full of old friends. “The introduction was brief. Within seconds, we were calling an ambulance. An unfortunate meeting. I’ll never forget the fear in Elsie’s eyes as Brandon collapsed with a seizure.
“After Elsie and I became friends, she took me to the hospital to see him at my request. We were under the impression he was in an induced coma. Despite his condition, I needed to reintroduce myself to the father of the girl I was falling in love with.” He smiled and shook his head. “I honestly didn’t think he’d hear a word I said. Then out of nowhere, he said, ‘Elizabeth, does your Mother know about this?’” Tyler laughed. “He scared us half to death.”
The congregation laughed along. If they knew Dad, then they knew he loved to give Mark and me a good scare every so often.
“We were able to talk for a while until he needed to rest. Yet another unforgettable moment with Brandon. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Well, except Elsie.” Tyler shrugged. “But to know he gave me his approval to be with her was priceless.
“We have a way of putting a price on everything, like if we lose a job, or can’t make the mortgage. If only we could hit the lottery, then we’d never have to worry about money again. When I met Elsie, she and Claire were working like crazy to keep their lives on track. I watched them loyally perform their jobs, work hard in the field, and take care of Brandon all at the same time. I admire these two women over anyone I’ve ever met. And so did Brandon.
“This is a little embarrassing to admit, but considering the circumstances,” he gave me a quick glance, “I think it’s appropriate. I went back to the hospital the next day and sat with Brandon, while Elsie was at work. He was having a good day, and we were able to chat for well over an hour about his beautiful family.” He looked across the pew. “He loved y’all so much. His biggest fear was leaving, and he didn’t hesitate to tell me.” He returned to addressing the congregation. “I never told Elsie that I had gone back to see him. I don’t know why. She certainly knows now. But for whatever reason, I had to ask him something because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get another chance. And I wouldn’t, so I’m even more grateful for his answer. Even if it took years, at least I know how he’d felt about it.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if he needed to gain his nerves. “I asked him if I could have his permission to marry his daughter someday.”
My heart skipped. Permission? Marry his daughter?
“I have to say, he didn’t respond right away. He made me sweat it out for minutes as he stared me down. But I’ll always remember his answer. He said, ‘Tyler, if Elsie loves you and you love her, that’s all that ever matters in this life. Not your money, not your job, but the love you two share.’” Tyler’s eyes softened as he looked at Mom. “He told me that you, Claire, are the reason he got up every morning. Your love made him fight. Because of you, he became the man he had always wanted to be.” She smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. Tyler returned a sincere regard, and then he spoke to everyone. “He also said if that’s how I felt when I woke up every day, and if that was what Elsie wanted, then yes, he would be proud that we marry. My point is how priceless love is. We can’t waste a second. We have limited time to be with the ones we love, and when they’re gone, even when it’s temporary, it can be some of the worst pain ever felt.” He took a deep breath and looked over our pew, making eye contact with each of us. “Brandon will be deeply missed. I’m thankful I had the honor to meet him.”
He paused for a few seconds, then stepped away from the pulpit.
I stood up and headed toward the side aisle, pushing past legs and knees. He walked down the steps of the altar in the same direction and met me with open arms.
I fell into his embrace. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
He held me tight, burying his face in my hair. I felt him breathe me in, and then he slowly pulled away. Gazing in my eyes, he brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers.
“We have a lot to talk about.”
“I know,” I said, torn with regret that I didn’t tell him myself.
As always, he kept his cool in front of the crowd, took my hand, and led me to a pew. I snuggled next to him, inhaling his cedar-laced scent. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close
. So tender. So loving. He needed to be here for me, as much as I needed him.
The piano lady played Amazing Grace as six men stepped forward to carry the casket outside. Woodrow took the lead, red eyes, swollen face. Wally on the other side, along with Uncle Travis, Mark, Mr. McAllister, and Steve, the man who helped at harvest.
The certainty that Dad would never come home engulfed me like an ocean wave. Grown men unable to arrest their tears, standing tall with their heads high. I couldn’t take it.
I bent forward, buried my face in my hands, and bawled.
Tyler’s warm touch rubbed over my back. His arrival had torn down my fortification. All the guilt for not telling him was like static, black and white fuzz, clouding my true grief.
These tears were exclusive. The big ones that soak your shirt and show all your ugly, kind of tears. They were for Dad. And Dad alone. For months, my emotions had been all jumbled up. I never knew who or what I was crying for. This time, I knew exactly what they meant.
I let all the pain flow, releasing my flood right in front of the man I loved.
After the music stopped, I took a deep breath and glanced up. A brilliant white handkerchief floated in front of my face. I smiled and accepted the soft linen.
Looking over my shoulder, I chuckled. “Who carries a handkerchief?”
He flashed a cocky grin. “It goes with the suit.”
“Only you, Mr. Vaughn. You look like a million bucks.”
“Come on, now. Stop that. You need to be with your family.”
People were filing down the center aisle toward Mom and Mark. Mom’s graciousness floored me. No more uptight, stressed out, what’s everyone going to think woman. She didn’t interfere with Tyler and me, nor did I get a nasty look when we walked in the foyer. Mrs. McAllister held her in a tight embrace. They let each other go, and then the next person in line stepped forward and shook Mom’s hand. We settled in next to Mark at the end of the line. Tyler stood close behind me, humbly accepting compliments for his eulogy.
Life Happens on the Stairs Page 28