Authors: Synthia St. Claire
Eighteen
The
first week after I’d fought with Shane was the hardest one of my life. Mother’s
good spirits and seemingly miraculous resurgence of health didn’t just fade
away, it vanished without a trace almost overnight. Her appetite diminished to
where the doctors were afraid they might have to consider a feeding tube if
things didn’t improve, but she wouldn’t allow it anyway. She remained in her
bed and barely spoke a word unless it was a complaint about how badly she was
hurting. Daddy couldn’t understand why she’d become sick again when she was on
what he believed to be the cusp of recovery, even though I tried to explain it
to him.
He
and I took turns going to stay with her in the hospital and bringing Abby
along. It was one of his afternoons to take Abby to see her after school and I
was at home, tending the horses when a phone call came through from the
hospital. I almost didn’t want to answer. When I did, it was my father on the
other end.
“The
doctor says she ain’t got long, Lil’ Bit. He said you oughta come down and see
her. Before…the end.” His voice, strong as it was, broke upon giving me the
news and I could hear him breathe in hard to try and keep himself together.
My
hand was shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. “I’m on my way,” I
answered and hung up.
When
I arrived at the hospital Daddy and Abby were there. My sister was red-faced
and I could tell she’d been crying. The doctor and a nurse were in Momma’s room
with the curtain closed so they were standing together in the hallway just
outside. I hugged my sister and told her that everything was going to be all
right, that we’d make it past this, and that I was proud of her for being so
strong. A moment later, the doctor stepped out and walked towards us.
“It’s
almost time,” he said in a calm, collected way. I imagine that he’d said the
same thing hundreds of times throughout his career. “Might be a matter of
hours, possibly another day or two. There’s nothing else we can do besides try
to keep her as comfortable as possible. The nurse is giving her more pain
medication now, so if you want to go and talk to her, you should do it soon.”
I
looked at Daddy, guessing he’d want to go first, but he put one hand on my
shoulder and said, “Abby and I talked to her already, Lil’ Bit, ‘fore…before
you got here. I know she wants to see you, so go on, me and your sister will
wait out here.”
I
reluctantly parted the curtain and walked into mother’s room. There she was,
looking every bit as sick as the day I saw her in the emergency room when she
first arrived. The fire was gone from her eyes, and not a hint of it remained.
Her vitals were all over the place, and thankfully the nurses had thought to turn
off the alarms since they would only be a distraction.
She
stirred from her sunken place on the bed when I came near and held out one
hand. When I took it, her hand wasn’t cold, or feverish. It felt just like the
caring hand of my mother always used to feel.
“Mary
Katherine,” she weakly managed. It looked like she hardly had the strength to
keep her eyes open, much less speak.
“Yes,
Momma…I’m here.”
“I’m
dyin’, honey. Goin’ up…to meet Jesus. He’s callin’ me home.”
“I
know,” I said, and squeezed her hand gently. “It’s ok, Momma. We love you.”
“I’m
sorry…I hid my sickness from you like I done,” she said, and then tried to
cough, but she couldn’t do much more than take a few weak gasps. “Reckon I
wanted ya’ll not to worry…with the time I had left.”
“It’s
ok, Momma.”
She
looked down and rubbed her wrinkled fingers across mine. “I ‘member when…I
could fit your whole hand inside my own. You were so little back then, Mary
Katherine. Where does the time go?”
“I
don’t know, Momma.”
“Don’t
keep no regrets, honey. You hear me?” she said adamantly, a tiny spark of fire
showing through, and I nodded as she went on, “That boy of yours…Shane…he’d
make a fine husband.”
“We…Shane
and I...we had a fight.”
She
closed her eyes and shook her head. Her thin, cracked lips opened into a smile
and she said, “Not worth dwellin’ on it. Me and your Daddy…we had our fights,
too. But I
know
when I see true love, honey. It’s a rare, beautiful
thing. Our family’s been blessed by it.”
I
thumbed the silver chain around my neck and thought about her words.
“Let
me see my Momma’s ol’ locket,” she said, her voice slipping into a whisper,
“I’d almost forgotten you still had it.”
The
latch came open easily enough, but I pulled the chain over my head and passed
it over to her. Mother caressed the locket in her hands for a moment, tracing
her fingertips along the spiraling, etched lines on the outside before opening
it up and looking at the faded photograph of her and my father that I’d placed
inside. Her chin began to quiver at the sight of it and her smile spread even
wider. She held it open for a while, touched the photograph as if to say
goodbye to it, and then handed the locket back to me.
“The
picture changes, but what’s written inside stays the same,” she murmured
lightly. “What is says inside,
that’s
true love, Mary Katherine. Your
grandmaw was blessed with it, same as you.”
I
read the inscription, closed the locket, and then hung the chain back around my
neck.
Why was she telling me all this? She already knew what happened with
Shane and Cindy. Couldn’t she see what he’d done to me?
She
spoke up again, almost as if she could read my thoughts, “You’re as stubborn as
a mule, Mary Katherine. Ain’t nothing wrong with stayin’ closed off like that…for
some things…other times, you gotta keep your heart open, even if it means it
might get broken.”
As
the last of her words left her, mother softly sighed and closed her eyes. I
could tell the medication was beginning to take effect.
“My
word,” she muttered sleepily, “I think it’s time for a rest.”
The
morning clouds lifted like a veil under the midday sun, which shone down with a
sublime radiance on the open, dew-covered field just down the hill from
Ridgewater Baptist. Mourners had gathered, two hundred of them or more, and
they were making their slow way from the church steps to the burgundy tent and
metal, velvet-covered chairs that were arranged underneath it. My father, along
with the other pallbearers, had already marched out across the field and placed
the casket before everyone else arrived.
I
walked between Abby and Miss Pauline, trying to focus for the moment on
navigating the soft field in shoes I’d never worn before instead of the
lingering image of my mother’s face from when the man from the funeral home
closed the casket only a few minutes before.
“Sho’
be hot today. Can’t believe we gettin’ weather like this here less than a month
fo’ Christmas,” Miss Pauline said and fanned herself with a program from the
ceremony.
“Momma
would have loved it,” Abby offered, looking up at the sky. “Remember how she
used to fuss with us about the house bein’ too cold, Kat?”
I
nodded and felt a smile coming on at the recollection. “I’ll never forget. She
got me good one time for playing with the air conditioning controls. I think
Daddy had to buy her that Buick to get her to go along with having it
installed. Momma was always fine with nothing more than a breeze rolling in,
just like it is today.”
“There’s
Daddy,” Abby said, pointing at our father, who waited like a statue beside the
casket. “I never seen him like this before, Kat. You gonna stay around for
Christmas before going back to school?”
“Uh-huh,”
I answered. “More than that. I’ve been thinking about it since Momma got put in
the hospital. I’m transferring my credits to Wilmington so I can finish in the
spring. I’ll be staying at the house while I go to school. I think it’s for the
best.”
We
drew quiet when we reached the rows of chairs and each of us took a seat in the
front to wait while the others in attendance found their own places. Daddy sat
next to me on the end once everyone had assembled and put his hands together
between his knees.
I
might have thought he was ready for any other Sunday at church, dressed in the
dark gray slacks he always wore to service with the same old jacket that had a
bit of wear on the buttons. Soon they’d need to be replaced. His hair was
combed neatly back and his paisley tie, a birthday gift from mother that he
often wore, hung down his shirt, almost resting in his lap. As the pastor read
through Psalm twenty-three, the expression on my father’s face was one of a man
that was utterly lost and trying with all his inner strength not to cry.
The
words seemed to spill out and hover in the air, waiting for me to latch onto
them. Some music was played, one of Momma’s favorite gospel songs, and just
like that, the ceremony was over. Guests and distant relatives began to depart
before I’d fully realized that the last prayer had been called out and the final
words of comfort had been spoken. I walked by the casket, which was surrounded
by bright yellow daises, mother’s favorite, and I swept a finger across the
cold, gleaming surface.
“She’s
gone, baby,” Daddy said, and sucked in a jittering gulp of air. I hugged him
then, unable to stand there and watch him stare at the casket or suffer holding
in his pain any longer. The moment my arms wrapped around him, his entire body began
to shake and he gave in. I joined in, feeling helpless to do much else.
I’d
never seen my father cry before. It was disquieting to see the man I’d always
thought was a rock, ready to handle any obstacle that got thrown at him, just
break down like that. She was his world. His little woman. Now who was there to
give him a hard time when he asked for it or for him to lovingly tease? I knew
he’d make it, but the path to happiness for my father was a long ways from
here.
Most
of the guests had already gotten in their cars and driven away by the time we
came out from under the shelter. Daddy had composed himself yet again, but I
knew he was still just as broken inside as me. We both took a look back at
where her grave would be and the other tombstones of departed members of our
family which surround it. At least, I hoped, if there was a life beyond this
one, she would be in good company.
“Kat,”
a familiar voice called out and I lifted my head. Standing there, dressed in a
pair of dusty blue jeans, was Hale. Once he saw that he’d gotten my attention,
he walked over.
“S-sorry
to hear about Mrs. Atwater. Your…y-your wife,” Hale said clumsily to my father.
He never was good in delicate situations.
“Appreciate
you comin’ out son,” Daddy replied.
Hale
rubbed the back of his neck and looked at me with an uncertain expression.
“Kat…can I, uh, talk to you for a second?”
Sensing
that the conversation was intended to be a private one, Daddy said, “I’m goin’
to say bye to the Robertsons ‘fore they leave. I’ll meet you at the car with
your sister in a few, and then we’re leavin’ to Miss Pauline’s for dinner.”
Once
Daddy walked away, Hale said quietly, “I know you don’t want me here, Kat, ok?
What I did…it was wrong, and stupid. I’m really, really sorry ‘bout the way I
hurt you. I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life. Being with you was
never one of them.”
I
felt momentarily tongue-tied. It was the best apology I’d ever heard come out
of his mouth. “Thank you, Hale. It means a lot to hear you say that.”
“I-I
heard about you and Shane, and ya’ll breaking up.”
I
narrowed my eyes at him. Surely he wasn’t trying to drag me back to him at my
mother’s funeral! “For God’s sake, Hale. Now is not the time-”
He
held out his hands to stop me. “Wait. I ain’t trying to win you back. I already
know I done lost you.”
“Well,
what is it? Get tired of hanging all over Cindy Reid?” I asked, growing
impatient as I watched Abby walk with my father towards the car.
“I’m
done with her. I quit drinking too, Kat. Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time
thinkin’ about what happened between me and you. I saw what your father had to go
through with your Momma being sick while I was working out on your farm. And
then…well, it all just sort of
hit me
.”
“What?”
“I
can’t live my life like that no more, Kat. I can’t go around treatin’ everyone
like I have and lyin’ every step of the way. That man you’ve been seein’…Shane?
The old man, Patterson, set him up. The whole thing with him and Cindy was
staged. I even got proof of it. Here.”
Hale
hastily dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Already on the screen
were a series of text messages between him and Cindy.
“Scroll
down to the bottom,” he mumbled. “Nevermind that, uh, other stuff.”
My
eyes widened as I read her last messages to Hale. Right there, in Cindy’s own
words, was more than enough evidence to prove Shane was innocent and that the
entire thing was a set-up from the very start! She’d told her father about
Shane coming to try and get her to testify and Patterson had told her what to
do. The security cameras around the gate took care of the rest.