Song of the Brokenhearted

by Sheila Walsh

  Kayanne sighed. “My son has less patience than I do, plus they think of each other like siblings.”

  “True,” Ava said with a laugh.

  They walked side by side out of the church. The other women had already left and the large parking lot was nearly empty.

  “I’m starving and you dump me. Now you’ll miss my newest dating drama. I hope you can handle the suspense.”

  “I do so love your dating stories.”

  “Yes, tragedies that they are.”

  “It won’t always be this way, sweetie.” Ava slid her arm around Kayanne’s shoulders. “It might be time to bite the bullet. You ready for online dating yet?”

  Kayanne snorted, then broke into a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Ava said, smiling as they walked across the parking lot.

  Kayanne laughed harder. It took a moment for her to talk.

  “In all the years you’ve known me, would you have ever imagined you’d suggest such a thing to me?”

  Ava laughed with her. “I was against it, truth be told. But all those commercials with online success stories are changing my opinion.”

  “You’re either a marketing person’s dream or you know I’m getting desperate.”

  Ava clicked her keychain and heard the engine of her Mercedes fire to life. Kayanne was parked beside her in a sun-faded Corolla.

  Kayanne set her Bible and study book on the roof of her car as she unlocked the door. “Life takes us on very strange journeys, that’s for sure. Life is weird, then you die. That should be a bumper sticker.”

  “For the hopeless. I’d like something with a bit more cheer.”

  “You’re right. How about, God is taking us on a wild ride. Hang on.”

  “It doesn’t have quite the same rhythm to it, but that’s better.”

  “And it’s true. But how do we hang on? That’s always my problem.”

  “Mine as well.”

  As Ava waved and drove off, she kept hearing Kayanne’s bumper sticker as if God was pressing the message home. God is taking us on a wild ride. Hang on.

  She brushed away the thoughts. Her life was in a good place. She wasn’t looking for any wild rides, divine or otherwise.

  “Dad, you aren’t paying attention,” Jason said as he watched a sci-fi show, one of the space spinoffs that he and Dane usually watched together. They often discussed the plot and elements of the show, but it sounded like a foreign language to Ava, with all their photon blasters, warp speeds, and light years.

  Ava, Jason, and Dane lounged around the living room. Ava held her electronic tablet with her list for Sienna’s weekend at home. She’d make her daughter’s favorite pumpkin soup and order bread from the brick-oven bakery in town. To appease the guys, Ava would pop a beef stew in the Crock-Pot. They’d go to Jason’s football game on Friday night, work on the wedding plans, attend church, and maybe have a movie night at home or see if there was something going on in town. Perhaps they could squeeze in a little retail therapy as well.

  “I’m watching, buddy,” Dane said in a voice that only proved his distraction. Dane leaned intently toward his laptop screen with his glasses low on his long, straight nose.

  “Did you see what just happened?”

  “The galactic treaty was broken again. Awful.”

  Jason frowned and let out a distinct groan of annoyance.

  “You probably should go to sleep after this,” Ava said, typing in a note to call the housekeeper in the morning.

  “What time will Sis get here?” Jason asked without raising his eyes from the television.

  “Her flight arrives at two thirty.”

  “Cool,” Jason said, jumping up from the couch as his program appeared to be ending. “I’m going to bed. I want to read anyway.”

  “Read? As in a book? What about aliens and distant planets?” Ava said.

  “My book is about aliens and distant planets,” Jason said, bending down to kiss Ava on the cheek.

  “Of course it is. At least it’s reading.”

  Dane didn’t move his eyes from his laptop. “Good night, buddy. We’ll catch up on our shows over the weekend.”

  “That’s what you said last week,” Jason muttered with a scowl tossed Dane’s way.

  “You can watch it with Sienna this weekend,” Ava reminded him. That seemed to cheer him up as he disappeared around the corner, his heavy footsteps tromping up the stairs.

  “Our son is not happy with you,” Ava typed into a chat program. She heard the sound of her message popping up on Dane’s screen and smiled as he looked up in surprise.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes bouncing back to his laptop.

  “I keep telling you—you’re here, but not here. We all notice it.”

  Dane nodded with his thick eyebrows scrunched over his eyes.

  Jason’s growing bitterness at Dane’s consuming work schedule was beginning to worry her. Dane had always worked long hours, but in the last months he’d become less available to everyone. Dane continued to promise it would get better, it was the recession, that he was training someone, an essential proposal or meeting or something was going to change it, and that it was all temporary.

  Ava missed her husband as well. They usually talked about everything. But Dane talked little about work now, and he wasn’t there to hear what was happening in her life either. Their usually bi-monthly dates had taken a hiatus since the previous winter.

  “Is everything all right? At work? With you? Our finances?” She hadn’t told him she’d found the late bills. When she looked the next day, the bills were gone. Maybe he’d paid them? She’d tried casually bringing up their finances a few times, but Dane always cut her off.

  “Good enough. Manageable. Nothing to worry about,” he said, glancing at her, then back to his laptop screen. She stared at him, but he didn’t look up.

  “You aren’t worried about Sienna’s surprise visit?”

  “She wants to see us. What’s to worry about?”

  Dane always brushed her concerns away as being a mom-thing. He’d once said she seemed to seek problems to be concerned about when it came to the kids.

  Sometimes Ava longed for a sister or a mother—or at least for Aunt Jenny to still be alive. What would they say about her life? Ava had wondered that many times over the years. Aunt Jenny would undoubtedly be proud of her. But Ava’s mother had died when she was a child, and her memories were like images smudged with rain.

  An e-mail popped into the in-box, distracting her from her thoughts. A note from Corrine Bledshoe caught her eye with the subject line: "With Concern"

  Dear Ava,

  I have wanted to talk to you about Broken Hearts. This is a difficult subject for me to broach, so I hope it comes across accurately via e-mail. Your schedule has been too demanding for a face-to-face, so e-mail seems right to begin this conversation. I hope I am not mistaken.

  Ava rolled her eyes. She could guess where this was going and she opened her mouth to comment, but the intensity in Dane’s stiff shoulders and his tight lips kept her silent. She returned to reading the e-mail:

  I was reviewing our work in the past year. Last month, we helped organize a fund-raiser for Professor Timothy Torini. Professor Torini is well known for his very liberal opinions and outspoken pro-choice views.

  Just a month earlier, we sent meals to that family with the son who was an antiwar protester and got paralyzed in a demonstration in DC.

  Mixed in between those, we’ve been offering supportive services to the families of our lost soldiers and that one who came home after losing both his legs.

  There was also that woman who had been married five times, though I can’t remember what we did for her.

  Do you see how our support of all of these varied people might offer a confused view of what we believe and what our church is about? What kind of message are we sending to the community? Should we support any kind of sin as if we accept it?

  I’m wondering what Pastor Randy would th
ink of this? I know we need to reach beyond the borders of our church, but should our funds be used to promote sinful, anti-Christian behavior?

  I know that you were instrumental in starting Broken Hearts, but I think this might be a good time to reevaluate the mission statement and direction. I want God’s blessings on all we do. Do you as well?

  Ava hit Reply before finishing the e-mail.

  We aren’t sending a message to the community other than if anyone is in a desperate state, we will be there to help you. Jesus didn’t condemn, so why should we? The gospel is about grace. And you are just a mean, spiteful woman! And by the way, Broken Hearts is not supported through church funds, so don’t give veiled threats—Pastor Randy supports everything we do anyway . . .

  She closed the program without hitting Save or Send. This was Angry Draft. Tomorrow she’d be better prepared to write a more diplomatic e-mail.

  Annoyance pulsed through Ava as she rose from the couch, picking up the remote to switch from television to a music station playing acoustic guitar. In the kitchen she turned on the teapot and pulled down three packets of tea. Sleepytime for Jason and herself, and a black for Dane.

  She opened the French doors and stepped out to take in the scent of an autumn night. Her mind wandered until she realized she’d walked down the path to the willow tree. Its silhouette cut against the night sky, and the leaves and branches fluttered softly as a wisp of a breeze moved through the yard.

  In the low light it was harder to see signs of further degeneration. For a moment, the tree appeared as whole and healthy as ever.

  But the last time she’d viewed it, the tree was certainly going downhill. It wasn’t just losing autumn leaves—they’d become brittle and dry.

  Ava sensed that she needed to stay here, to rest beneath the branches and wait for God to guide her. A whisper to her heart said, “Wait a moment.”

  Her life was filled with blessings. They’d had a long season with everything going well, yet something nagged at her. Her childhood had taught her to expect the worst. Every good season was shadowed with the fear of what bad would surely come. It was like swimming in a perfect sea with the fear of sharks lurking beneath every kick and stroke of her arms.

  A wisp of wind pushed harder through the leaves, perhaps God’s display of His presence. I am here.

  Ava’s restlessness got the best of her. She paused on the walk back toward the house, stopping by the pool, newly protected for the winter with a thick plastic cover. Their yard guy would be there in the morning, but Ava liked the mess of leaves that decorated the pathway and deck chairs.

  She gazed through the window with the sense of an outsider’s view of her family. A light switched off from the window above her. Jason was going to sleep, and her husband was still working on his computer. He’d moved from his spot on the couch, yet he hadn’t wondered where she’d gone or why Jason was annoyed at him again.

  Dane’s distraction was taking a toll like the small bites of a piranha that soon ate entire creatures whole. After all these years, she could still so easily go from prayerful and peace-filled to anxious, as if the fears and stress crowded around the corners of life, seeking any opening to steal themselves inside.

  The autumn breeze curled around her, softening her mood as she looked up at the stars. God was with her, tugging at her to draw closer. It was time for her to listen even more. Wasn’t that the advice she’d give at Bible study?

  Back inside, the kettle whistled from the stove, sending out a plume of steam into the air. The microwave door was fogged, and most of the water had evaporated. Jason was sleeping anyway. She poured Dane a cup and herself a half cup. She popped the tea bags into the water, which made her think of Aunt Jenny, who would’ve insisted she use loose-leaf tea.

  “The willow tree isn’t getting better,” Ava said as she set Dane’s cup of tea onto the table beside him. He didn’t raise his head from the computer and made only a slight grunt in response. She didn’t expect Dane to jump up and rush out to save the tree, but his complete lack of concern nipped at her. He and little Sienna had helped her plant it those many years ago. He knew it was special to her—why else had he built the bench there one Mother’s Day? Dane didn’t thank her for the tea, but took a sip and set it back down as if she weren't there at all.

  “Am I talking to myself?” Ava said, staring at her husband.

  Dane glanced up, then returned to studying his computer.

  “Tree isn’t looking good,” he repeated in a monotone voice.

  “I hope it doesn’t die after all these years,” Ava said flatly.

  Dane groaned and stood abruptly. “I need to go back in.”

  Ava looked up at the large clock on the wall. “It’s almost ten.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Dane closed his laptop and stuffed it into his bag.

  “But—”

  “Call Leo about the tree. That’s what we pay him for,” Dane said as he grabbed his keys and kissed her good-bye.

  “We pay him to clean up the yard.”

  “See if he can fix a tree as well.”

  “What’s his number?” Ava said testily. Why wouldn’t Dane offer to call him? They lived under the unspoken agreement that she handled the inside of the house and he did the outside.

  “I’ll text it to you,” he said over his shoulder.

  “I want to talk about some things. What time will you be home?”

  Ava tried to think what she’d advise someone else in her shoes. She’d tell the woman to pray for her husband, try to be supportive, but to also be clear in verbalizing that she needed from him. She’d seen too many couples take severe turns in opposite directions and end in divorce within a year or two of being happy and solid.

  “I’ll be late. Can’t talk tonight. How about this weekend?”

  “Sienna will be here this weekend.” Ava followed him to the garage.

  “That’s right, well, we can still talk when she’s here.”

  “What is going on at work?” she asked pointedly.

  It tapped at her thoughts, the fear of every woman when her husband started working late. She’d seen it a thousand times, and she knew her life wasn’t immune to such crisis.

  Dane stopped, turning around. His tense expression softened as he looked at her face. He reached for her hand, but she kept it stiff and unresponsive.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. Really I am. The board is meeting for a special session in the morning. Some investors are flying into Dallas on Thursday, and we’re having a crisis with the portfolio getting finished.”

  “So this is about the merger? Is everything all right?”

  Dane shrugged. “With this economy, nothing is all right.”

  “So . . . what does that mean? In laywoman’s terms.”

  “Let’s talk tomorrow night after the game. We’ll sit on the balcony and have a glass of wine. I’m sure Sienna will be visiting old friends anyway. Oh, can you grab her from the airport? I sent her a text that I can’t pick her up. We’re having that meeting with the board all afternoon.”

  This wasn’t like Dane. He always picked Sienna up from the airport. Dad and daughter had a special relationship, as if they’d been woven together using the same ingredients.

  “Sure, I can. What’s the meeting about?”

  “A few tricky things. Don’t worry.” He came around and kissed her neck. His lips were cold, making her flinch.

  Ava turned out the house lights and locked the doors.

  Don’t worry.

  Five

  “THIS IS AVA KENT,” SHE SAID, ANSWERING THE PHONE BEFORE she was fully awake. Her hand reached for her notebook and pen in the drawer as she bumped her head on the edge of the bedside table.

  Sitting up, she rubbed her head and glanced at the space beside her. Dane’s side of the bed was empty with the pillow untouched.

  “Is this Aunt Ava?”

  “Uh-huh,” she muttered, then her eyes flew open. “Um, who are you calling?”

  “Au
nt Ava?”

  “This is . . . Ava,” she said, trying to figure out who’d call her aunt. Her mind was still muddled with sleep.

  “This is Bethany.”

  “Bethany?” Ava knew a few Bethanys, but this voice didn’t match those faces. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Do you remember me?”

  “Uh, I’m really sorry, I was sound asleep. Who is this again?”

  “Bethany. Jessie’s daughter.”

  Ava’s back straightened. Her cousin was Jessie, and yes, her daughter was Bethany.

  “Of course. How are you? Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. Sorry for calling so late.”

  Ava glanced at the clock. No one called at this hour unless it was a tragedy. She braced herself for the news.

  “Do you remember me and my sister, Debbie?”

  “I do, it’s just been such a long time. The last time I saw you, you were running around with a doll in your hands.” Ava rubbed her eyes.

  “It was an old doll, and after that, you sent me and Deb both a baby that sucks on a bottle and had eyes that open and close. It was the first doll that we didn’t have to share. Remember?”

  “I do sort of remember. I’d forgotten about that. How old are you now?”

  “Sixteen,” she said softly, and there was a long pause.

  “Bethany, did something happen?” Ava asked, sensing the girl wanted to share something.

  “What do you mean?”

  Ava cleared her throat. “So nothing bad happened?” You’re just calling a long-lost relative after midnight and no one is dead or dying?

  “No, um, not really. Everyone is fine, I mean.”

  Ava was sure the girl wasn’t telling her something. She opened the bedroom door and walked to the staircase, leaning over to see if Dane was downstairs somewhere. All of the lights except for the one over the kitchen sink were still turned off.

  “I just hadn’t talked to you in a real long time. You still living in Dallas?”

  “We do.”

  “Mama says you live in a mansion.”