Jessica didn't hear Wendy threaten her life. Instead she closed her eyes, mellowed out to the sound of the pouring rain, and accidentally drifted off into a deep nap. She was awoken by the sound of a honking horn. Struggling to pull her eyes open, Jessica looked out into a strange parking lot, feeling confused. Was she dreaming? Why was it raining so hard? Who was honking a horn? Unable to answer the questions coursing through her sleepy mind, Jessica turned her head to the left and spotted Mandy's gray 1988 Conversion van sitting next to her Dodge Journey. Mandy had converted the van into a wheelchair accessible mini bus that took her back and forth to whatever location she needed to travel to. The conversion van, compared to all the 'Modern' vehicles sitting in the parking lot, was an eye sore. Mandy didn't care. She liked her ride. “Mandy?”
Mandy stopped honking the horn, and began the tedious task of transferring her body from the driver's seat into the wheelchair strapped down next to her, in what was the passenger seat area. “Okay, step by step,” Mandy said. She unbuckled her seat belt, reached over to her right, carefully removed the rubber straps holding her wheel chair in place, and then caught her breath. “Okay, not time to switch seats,” she said, pulling the wheelchair over to her, and with more effort than a person might realize is needed, she went from the driver's seat into the wheel chair, without catching the brown dress she was wearing.
As Mandy worked her usual routine inside the van, Jessica rubbed her sleepy eyes, yawned, and then reached into the passenger seat and grabbed her purse, along with a gray umbrella. “I'm in Dalton...Chick-Fil-A...” she whispered, forcing her mind to wake up. “I'm here to visit my sister.” With those words, Jessica stepped out into the rain, quickly opened the umbrella, and walked to the side door of the conversion van and waited for Mandy. A couple of minutes later, the door popped opened on its own. Mandy appeared behind the door with a big smile on her face. “Mandy,” Jessica said in a loving voice, actually feeling a strange happiness—no, not happiness...relief—wash through her troubled mind. “It's so great to see you.”
Mandy stared at her sister. Jessica looked terrible. The poor woman appeared as if hadn't had a comfortable night’s rest since her husband died. Sleep was not Jessica's friend. Of course, Mandy reminded herself, sleeping in a bed that once held your husband was no easy chore. Jessica, she assumed, was most likely napping on the living room couch. “Stand back, Sis. I'm coming down,” she said in a careful voice. Jessica stepped back against the driver's side door of her Dodge Journey and watched Mandy lower herself down to the parking lot on a metal lift. Once that chore was complete Mandy sent the metal lift back up, closed the side door, and held out her hands to Jessica. “Come give your sister a hug before I drown in all this rain.
Jessica hurried to Mandy, placed the umbrella she was holding over her sister's head, and offered a loving hug. “I've missed you,” she whispered, and nearly broke down crying.
“Same here, Sis,” Mandy said, hugging Jessica back. Her nose caught the scent of a weak perfume that had been applied the day before. It appeared Jessica had no desire to spruce herself up when she had begun a new morning. “Let's get inside.”
“Of course.” Jessica handed Mandy the umbrella and carefully navigated the wheel chair toward the Chick-Fil-A building. A few minutes later, and with the help of a nice young employee, she and Mandy were both safely inside. “I'll order our food,” she told Mandy. “What would you like?”
“Oh...get me a #1 deluxe meal with a diet coke...and I'll grab us a table,” Mandy smiled. “I'm assuming my money is no good with you?”
Jessica looked into her sister's loving, worried, face. She had to fight back tears. “Your money will never be any good with me,” she said, forcing a weak smile to her lips. Mandy smiled back and rolled away in her wheel chair to find an appropriate table. Jessica sighed and slowly got in line behind an old man wanting a refill on his coffee. A few minutes later, a pretty little redheaded girl asked to take her order. “Two #1 deluxe meals, please,” Jessica told the girl.
“And what would you like to drink with your meals?” the girl asked in a pleasant, friendly tone.
“A diet coke and...” Jessica paused. Jack loved Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper, although unhealthy, was his favorite drink in the world. Jessica, personally, could not stand the taste of Dr. Pepper. However, times had changed. “I'll have a Dr. Pepper with my meal, please,” she said with a weak voice.
The redheaded girl looked at Jessica, saw that the woman was on the verge of crying, and asked, “Are you okay?”
Jessica drew in a deep breath and fought back her tears. “Not really,” she confessed. “How much for the meals, please?” The girl rang up the total. Jessica paid, waited for her drinks, took an orange table cone, and found Mandy sitting at a back table, tucked up against a window that overlooked Walnut Avenue. “One diet coke,” she said placing the drinks down onto the table. "I’ll get the straws.”
Mandy watched her sister walk away. “Poor dear,” she sighed, but quickly put on a strong face when Jessica returned.
Jessica put the straws down on the table, sat down across from Mandy, and carefully hung her purse on the back of the chair she was sitting on. “Our meals will be out in a minute,” she explained.
Mandy nodded her head and watched her sister look down at a simple drink of Dr. Pepper, as if the liquid inside was some kind of torture instrument. “Jessica?” she asked.
Jessica slowly raised her eyes, saw Mandy's worried face, and sighed. “I'm sorry.”
“For what?” Mandy asked.
Jessica grew silent for a minute while she focused her eyes back on the Dr. Pepper. “Mandy, I was told Jack was intoxicated the night of his accident. The strongest thing Jack ever drank was a Dr. Pepper. My husband wasn't drunk.” He was KILLED!!! a voice screamed inside of Jessica's head. Why don't you go ahead and speak what you know. Jack was KILLED!!! Stop denying it! Jessica closed her eyes and struggled to fight the voice away. The voice refused to leave.
((((((((((*))))))))))
Mandy's house sat in the northern part of Whitfield County; the county Dalton was located in. The house, small but very cozy, was perched on half an acre of land that was surrounded by beautiful woods. “Whitfield County touches the Tennessee border,” Mandy pointed out, as Jessica quickly pushed her wheelchair up a wooden ramp that connected to a lovely front porch. “My road connects to Cleveland Highway. If you keep north on Cleveland Highway, you will run straight into Tennessee.”
“Oh...good to know,” Jessica replied in a tired voice, feeling grateful to be at her sister's house. “Tennessee is a lovely state...I guess.”
“If we have the time, I'll take you to the Chattanooga Aquarium,” Mandy promised. She shook the rain off her coat, and had Jessica push her to the blue front door. “The Chattanooga Aquarium is beautiful,” she continued, as she fished a set of house keys out of her purse, and unlocked the front door. “Chattanooga itself isn't a bad city. Actually, Chattanooga is great, in my opinion.”
Jessica nodded her head and waited for Jessica to unlock the front door. The rain was really pouring down from the sky, making her feel cold, water logged and very sleepy. Yet, for whatever reason Jessica couldn't understand, her exhausted mind simply couldn't sleep more than three to four hours. Was she suffering from insomnia, like Pastor Braston? Jessica wasn't sure. Insomnia was a difficult area to diagnose; without being under a doctor’s care. Left alone, Jessica was forced to wonder if she was simply having a mental melt down, or simply suffering from a deep form of grief that was preventing her mind from capturing eight healthy hours of sleep. “May we have some hot tea?” she asked Mandy, as her sister opened the front door.
“Of course,” Mandy promised. “Now, let's get inside.”
Jessica nodded her head, as she pushed Mandy into a small living room that was covered with cream colored walls and a thick brown carpet. The air of the living room smelled of...was it gingerbread? Yes, Jessica confirmed, the air smelled
of gingerbread. The smell of gingerbread matched the brown couch and white sitting chair perched in front of an antique coffee table. The entire living room made Jessica feel as if she had walked into the womb of a gingerbread woman. But what caught Jessica's eye the most was a photo, sitting on a brown mantle hovering over a small stone fireplace. “Oh...the photo of us in Israel...” Jessica said, as her eyes drew her tired body to the photo.
Mandy smiled. “We were standing in front of the Western Wall.”
Jessica studied the photo. Her eyes saw two happy women holding hands and pointing at the Western Wall. The two women in the photo, who were still in their twenties, appeared healthy, vibrant and very happy. “This photo was taken nearly nine years ago. My goodness, I look so young.”
“And happy,” Mandy pointed out. “Jessie, the trip we took to Israel really changed your life.”
Jessica examined the smile on the face of her younger self—a smile her tortured heart would never experience again. “I cared then,” she whispered.
“What, Sis?” Mandy asked.
Jessica continued to stare at the photo. A strange anger began to build in her heart, replacing her initial joy. “Jack didn't drink...” Jack was killed!
Mandy watched a deep, mysterious, anger begin to scar her sister's beautiful face. “Jessie?” she asked. “Are you okay, honey?”
“Huh?” Jessica turned her head and looked into Mandy's concerned face. “Oh...I...I'm very tired.”
Mandy removed her coat. “Well, take off your coat and relax,” she gently pressed. “I'll go into the kitchen and make us some tea. How does peppermint sound? I can add some honey and lemon.”
“Peppermint will be fine,” Jessica assured Mandy. “I add a little honey and lemon to my peppermint tea back home.”
Mandy stared at Jessica. “Jessie,” she asked, carefully approaching a very sensitive question, “speaking of home...I was thinking...maybe you would like to move to Dalton? If you did, we could be close to each other, and watch each other’s backs the way sisters do, you know?”
Jessica felt her head begin to shake, creating a silent no. “Mandy, my home is in Pennsylvania, and my heart is in the house my husband bought me. I could never leave.”
“That's what I was afraid of,” Mandy sighed. “Which leaves me with question number two.”
“Mandy--”
Mandy held up her right hand. “Sis, if you're not willing to relocate, then perhaps I should,” Mandy stated in a caring but firm voice. “You don't need to be alone. I mean, you should see yourself. No offense, but you look terrible.”
Jessica felt a heavy hand press against her heart. She slowly removed her coat, revealing a bland tan dress that, like the coat, seemed to simply hang on Jessica's body, instead of portraying a proper fit. “How am I supposed to look?” she asked, glancing at the white sitting chair, and decided to sit down. “Mandy, my husband is dead.”
Mandy heard a deep bitterness in Jessica's voice that worried her heart. Jessica had been such a sweet, faithful Christian woman; a woman whose faith could not be shaken by an evil world. Or so Mandy believed. Now, Jessica appeared to be a woman whose faith had been shattered into a million little shards of sharp glass. “Yes, Jack is gone,” she spoke in a caring voice. “I'm very sorry.”
Jessica lowered her eyes down to the coat she was holding over her lap. “It's not fair.”
“No, it's not.”
Silence gripped Jessica for a couple of minutes. Mandy supported the silence. “Jack's truck...it'll rust in the garage. I suppose I'll have to crank it from time to time, but I'll never drive the truck.” Jessica kept her eyes low. “I sat at the kitchen table the other night, wondering if oil ever went bad in a truck? Jack always...oil changes...always right on track.”
“Jessica--”
Tears began falling from Jessica's eyes. “I went through our closet...all of Jack's clothes, his baseball caps, winter coat; they still smell like him.” Jessica allowed her tears to fall. “His pillow still has his smell...and...I found one of his hairs in his pillow.”
“Oh Jessie.” Mandy rolled over to Jessica and took her left hand. “You shouldn't do this to yourself.””
“I held Jack's hair all night long,” Jessica began to cry. “When morning arrived, I put his hair into a freezer bag and placed it under my pillow.”
Mandy didn't know what to say. She pulled Jessica close and hugged her. “I wish I could take your pain away, but I can't,” she nearly began to cry herself. “I wish I could walk into your heart and destroy all that is hurting you. All I can do is pray for you.”
Jessica pulled away from Mandy. “Pray?” she asked as if Mandy had punched her. “I no longer believe in prayer.”
“Jessie--”
“No,” Jessica insisted, as tears flooded from her eyes, “don't preach at me, Mandy. I...I'm not losing my faith, but I can't have faith; not the way I once did. I know that doesn't make sense...” Jessica shook her head as if trying to shake loose a tormenting thought. “Jack...I love my husband, Mandy. I keep telling myself Jack took a long trip, and that someday we'll be together again, but between now and then...so much pain. How can prayer take away the pain?”
Mandy didn't have an answer. “I don't know?” she confessed. “Jessica, I can't quote Bible scriptures the way some people can. I simply read my Bible and trust in God's Word. I...God never promised us an easy life, but He did promise to always be there for us, through the good and the bad.”
Jessica's mind latched onto the book of Job. Job had always set an incredible example for all of God's children to follow. Job had been tested to the edge, and yet he never walked away from his faith; never departed from the truth. Jessica wondered if she was being tested like Job. The thought was strange and alien. Where had the thought even arrived from? Bitterness? Fear? Despair? Confusion? Jessica didn't know. “I didn't have Jack long enough to...have enough good.”
“Jessie, sharing a simple smile with someone you love can create a lifetime of good,” Mandy promised. “Think of all the parents who lose their children to cancer, as horrible as that is. Would those parents rather have a few sweet years with their children, or not know their children at all in order to escape the pain?”
Jessica raised her tear-filled eyes and looked at Mandy. “Why must there be pain?” she begged. “What good can possibly come from pain?”
Mandy took Jessica's left hand. “I don't know.” she confessed. “Pain...suffering...tears...who knows? Who knows why we're designed to know these things, instead of absolute happiness and continual joy? I wish I had the answer, but I don't, Jessie.” Mandy nodded down at her leg. “I have to spend the rest of my life in this miserable wheel chair because my right leg is nothing but dead weight. And look at me. I'm not exactly thin.” Mandy sighed. “Jessie, over time I have learned to deal with the obvious and integrate that truth into my life. I had to do this at a very young age, which was very difficult.” Mandy tried to create a smile, but failed. “Over time, I learned to accept that I would never run a seven-minute mile ever again, and that a wheelchair was going to become my new best friend. And boy, was I angry...bitter. But you know what?”
“What?” Jessica dared to ask.
“I depended on God to give me the strength to continue living. I gave all my pain, hurt, and anger to God,” Mandy explained. “In time, maybe you will do the same?”
“No,” Jessica whispered. “I...” Jessica stopped and simply looked down at Mandy's hand. “Mandy,” she said in an agonized voice, “I think...Jack was...murdered. I can't...”
Mandy stared at Jessica in shock. “Murdered?” she whispered. “Jessie...what are you talking about? Jack died in automobile accident.”
“That's what I was told,” Jessica reluctantly spoke. “Jack was on his way home from Washington, when the rental car he was driving crashed into a semi-truck. I was told Jack had been intoxicated. Jack didn't drink. Jack was a good, Christian, man. He didn't drink.”
“Washington?” Mandy asked. “Jessie, you never told me Jack was driving home from Washington.” Mandy struggled to make sense of her sister's words. “What was Jack doing in Washington? Wasn't he a CPA who worked out of your house?”
Jessica felt her chest tighten. She and Jack had, against their will, created a false story for Mandy to believe. Very few people were aware that Jack was part of the CIA. People were forced to believe that Jack was a CPA who worked from home; simple and clean. “Uh...yes...” she told Mandy, in a voice that held defeat. “Jack was a CPA.”
Mandy stared into Jessica's troubled face. “Yeah, and I'm a billionaire,” she stated. “Jessie, what's going on? Why was Jack in Washington, and what did Jack really do for a living?” she pressed.
Jessica wanted to tell Mandy that her husband worked for the CIA; worked creating artificial intelligence. She wanted to desperately blurt out that she had accidentally seen a case sensitive file sitting on the desk in Jack's den. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that Jack had flown to Washington to attend a very secret meeting that he wouldn't talk about, and then decided to drive home in order to have time to clear his mind. She wanted to shout that there were too many mysterious questions overshadowing the truth. Frustration and anger boiled in her eyes. “Jack never harmed anyone, and now he's dead. Where is the fairness in that?”
“Jessie--”
“Jack never harmed anyone,” Jessica insisted, as fresh tears began to fall. “He was a brilliant, kind, caring man. He never hurt anyone. Or...did he?” Jessica asked in a miserable voice.
“What are you talking about, Jessie?” Mandy insisted.
The Accident Page 3