Forever Friday (33 page)

“Twice,” Yevette replied.

Huck offered a slight smile. “Before you read, there’s something I’ve been meaning to give you. In the top drawer of my dresser is a small velvet box. Would you hand it to me, please?”

Yevette stepped to the dresser, retrieved the box, and returned to her chair.

“Don’t open it,” Huck instructed. “Not yet.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Remember Gabe’s postcard poem about the two tiny shells?”

“It was one of my favorites.”

“And the necklace I spoke about the day we read it?”

“You said he’d had a jeweler polish the shells and string them on a gold necklace.” Yevette eyed the box.

“We’d not been married long when we were at the beach one weekend, and he’d secretly slipped the shells into the pocket of his bathing trunks.” Huck sighed. “I never knew what romantic mischief that man was up to.” She grinned at Yevette. “Now you may open it.”

“It’s so beautiful.” Yevette picked up the necklace and held it toward the light. “But I never saw you wear it.”

“I only wore it for my soul mate,” Huck said, then paused until Yevette met her gaze. “And one day, I hope you’ll wear it for yours.”

“Thank you, I …” Yevette wiped away a tear, then leaned over and hugged Huck. “I will,” Yevette whispered, “one day.”

Huck yawned. “I’m feeling a bit woozy. Perhaps I’ll take a short nap. Might your reading wait?”

Yevette nodded. “Would you like for me to lower your head and close the blinds?”

“That would be nice. Now don’t let me sleep long.”

As Huck slept, pleasant images of her childhood flashed through her mind. Not only specific faces, but group events such as family reunions, church socials, Christmases. At one point, she was back inside her secret glen, talking to Mister Jack.

“Huck?” Yevette’s voice interrupted Huck’s dreams.

“What, dear?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to miss lunch. It will be delivered in a few minutes. Would you like for me to raise your head and open the blinds?”

“No. This is fine.” Huck still felt a little woozy, as if she were almost floating. “I just had the most wonderful dream. I was a little girl again and all my family and friends were there. I even saw Mister Jack.” She paused. “Now wasn’t there something you wanted to ask?”

“There was.”

“Then you must hurry with your question, dear. Gabe could walk through that door any minute.”

“When he spent that week in the ICU, did my mother go and see him?”

“Priscilla looked up to Gabe like a father.” Huck paused again, her words a bit breathless. “She’s dead, Priscilla.”

“Do you know what she and Gabe might have talked about during that time?”

“I have no idea, dear. But I do remember him telling me that she’d read him the newspaper. He so enjoyed having her read to him.”

“Did she ever read anything to him out of her Bible?”

Huck smiled. “My, how that man loved the Psalms.”

“Pardon me?” Yevette said. “I couldn’t hear. You must be falling back asleep. What did you say about the Psalms?”

“Gabe believes that the poetry in that book holds the meaning to life,” Huck said, her words barely audible. “When he comes today, he’s bringing a postcard with a new poem.”

“I found a card addressed to you in Mama’s Bible, Huck. On the front is a picture of the most beautiful orchid, one I’ve never seen. On the back is a poem written in Gabe’s handwriting. I never thought
about going through her Bible until last night. He must have composed it when he was in the ICU, then Mama was killed before she could deliver it.” Yevette’s voice trembled. “Would you like for me to read it to you?”

“That would be wonderful, dear.”

The instant Yevette began reading, Huck saw Gabe. His sea-sky eyes illuminated the entire room.

“Oh, my dearest Gabe,” Huck said. “You’ve come back shining like the sun. And this poem is the most beautiful of all.”

Then closing her eyes, Huck Alexander slipped away into eternity’s crisp blue light.

Summer 2006

Adam Colby

After reading Gabe’s final postcard and thinking on it, as Yevette had asked, I called her. She was in town, so we met the following afternoon in front of the Doyle Convention Center in Texas City, near a large fountain.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yevette said, her eyes glued to the fountain. A statue of a giant phoenix rose out of the water. “Have any idea why we’re here?”

“Not a clue,” I replied, racking my brain to remember if Gabe had written any poems about a phoenix.

“Gabe almost died here,” she said grimly.

“Drowned in the fountain?” I gave a half chuckle.

“Not funny. Are you aware of what happened?”

“You mean the big explosion?” I felt I’d been tricked somewhat into making a stupid remark. “I do remember hearing talk from time to time about an industrial disaster back in the 1940s, but that’s all I know.”

“Let’s walk,” she said. “I’ll continue with the Alexanders’ story where I left off the last time we met. Then we’ll end up back here.”

She wore shorts again, but this time her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And instead of the familiar black opal pendant, she wore a
simple gold necklace with two polished seashells. The tiny shells seemed to reflect the light in her eyes.

As we strolled around the convention center, she talked about Kilgore and the death of Clark Richards. We laughed about the colorful prison rodeo, before she explained in great detail what happened right here in Texas City. Thankfully after that, their Neiman Marcus adventure gave us both a chuckle. But then she told about Gabe’s emphysema, his funeral, and Huck’s last visit to her secret glen. Then with a somber expression, Yevette explained how Huck died during the reading of the final postcard.

“I’m stunned,” was all I could say, then noticed we were back at the fountain.

Yevette stopped walking. “Have you ever heard any more from Haley?”

“Uh, no,” I replied, not expecting the question. “She’s remarried and has no desire to keep in touch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We were both at fault.”

For several moments, no one spoke.

“See how that phoenix is flying up out of the fountain?” Yevette finally asked.

I studied the impressive bird and nodded.

“It symbolizes the way this city rose out of the mire of disaster. That bird is you.”

Then with a slight nod, Yevette turned and began walking away.

“Are you leaving?” I wanted her to stay.

Spinning on her heel, she faced me. “That’s the end of the Alexanders’ story. Now you know everything.”

“And I can connect the final dots,” I replied, meeting her gaze. “But I don’t know … you.”

“After you figure things out, give me a call.” She smiled. “Or maybe I’ll call you.” Turning back around, she walked toward the convention center and disappeared inside.

“I’m stuck in traffic on Buffalo Speedway!” Yevette shouted.

“What?” I asked, then shook my cell phone, as if it would help. We either had a bad connection or she was driving with her windows down.

“Hello! Adam, can you hear me?”

“Loud, but not clear. Are you in your pickup?”

“Are you at Bering’s?”

“Just outside. I thought you said it was a hardware store.”

“It is. But they sell more than just hammers. So order two coffees to go.”

“Coffee?”

“Don’t ask why, just do it. I’ll be there soon. Bye.”

She
had
called me first.

I closed my phone and walked inside. The upscale store was traditional, yet trendy, and full of unique hardware, merchandise, and gifts. Sure enough, they sold coffee. I ordered and paid for two cups, instructing the girl behind the counter I wouldn’t need them for a few minutes. Sitting on a stool, I thought about Yevette and chuckled.

The only reason anyone would drive around Houston in the middle of summer without AC would be because they
wanted
to get heat stroke. But she was an unusual woman.

After we met in Texas City, I was able to connect the last pieces of Huck and Gabe’s remarkable story. Suddenly, I found myself thinking less and less about Haley and more about Yevette. I’d grown so accustomed to self-pity, the oxymoronic comfort of pain, that I hardly knew how to function. Was I really beginning to accept what had happened or just forcing myself to let go? Either way, thanks to Huck and Gabe, I knew I would find the courage to move on.

When I discovered the postcards and began my quest to find the secret to a lasting marriage, I was looking for some kind of formula, a holy grail of marital bliss. After meeting Yevette, I began fitting the pieces of Huck and Gabe’s life into the breadth of their story. And even though they were soul mates, they were simply two people in love, a man and a woman who—hard as they tried—couldn’t always avoid The Long Division by suppressing selfishness or be in total command of their devotion. So the
secret
was no formula per se, but a culmination of things that made a marriage last. Total trust. An unbreakable bond. Completeness. Even so, I felt as though there was still one piece of the puzzle missing.

And then last night I found it. Even though I’d read Gabe’s final postcard multiple times, I realized it pointed to what I’d been searching for.

The poem spoke of his love with Huck lasting forever. And because Huck had known the depth of their bond—Gabe’s love remaining in her heart—she was able to live without him for eighteen additional years. But it was Huck’s ultimate realization that was key for me. Something I’d already considered but now understood.

As a child, when Huck met Mister Jack, he’d advised her to grab on to
hope
and never let go. I was still not convinced that the man was
anything more than a drifter. But after connecting the chain of supernatural coincidences that followed, I decided Mister Jack’s wisdom was stellar. Maybe I was beginning to believe in angels too. The homeless man Gabe met in Kilgore could’ve been
his
guardian angel. Or perhaps angels performed double-duty with soul mates.

From the beginning, Huck’s
hope
was to find a soul mate. And then it evolved into keeping that soul mate from harm, Blue Norther becoming a symbol of Gabe’s safety. But when he died and her life came crashing down, she discovered a different brand of hope altogether.

As human beings, we hope for many things. Happiness. Health. Job. Children. Mate. Eternity. As we mature, we begin to recognize a mysterious force that is an integral part of each one of us, something much more powerful than ourselves.

That force is hope, the very bedrock of our souls.

Hope has won wars, fed nations, conquered diseases. In the unquenchable human spirit, hope is the fire.

It is also different and the same for each one of us. For Huck, it was her faith in God and a gentle knowing that she would see Gabe again. For me—and I’d have to ponder more on the God part—hope was a second chance, a fresh start. The beauty is this: whatever relationship mistakes I’d made in the past, hope was where the road began anew.

The definitive puzzle piece? The power of love through hope.

I chuckled. A simple concept, really. And one that held a marriage together for sixty years.

“Sir?” The girl from behind the counter tapped me on the shoulder. “Your two coffees.”

I focused my attention back into the hardware store. “Thank you,” I replied as Yevette walked through the door.

“So why did you call
this
meeting?” I asked, looking around. “Are we going to build something?”

“Perhaps. Grab your coffee and follow me. Know what brand of brew this is?” she asked as we walked out into the sunny parking lot.

“What?”

“Admiration.” She grinned. “Actually it’s Houstonian Blend, roasted by Admiration’s original company, Duncan Coffee.”