The Way of Women (39 page)

“Harvey, like my daddy.” Lissa reached for the bunny and hugged it with both arms.

“Okay, we’ve got everything. Here we go.” Jenn held open the door and, with a sweep of her arm, ushered them in.

Mellie wanted to take Lissa and run the other way, but with her friends on either side, and Lissa laughing at something Jenn said, she had no choice.
Not that I’m ungrateful, Lord, just overwhelmed. Things are moving so fast
.

Just hang on, darlin’, hang on tight
.

Did everyone who’d lost someone seem to hear their voice? Or was she going crazy along with everything else? She wanted to ask Katheryn but somehow couldn’t dredge up the courage.

Hang on
.

G
old sandy beaches, white-frosted waves on an ocean so blue it didn’t look real, a breeze that teased the models hair just so. Perfection.

Unless, of course, one’s mind is in a hospital room with a deathly pale little girl in Seattle.

Jenn forced herself to concentrate on the shoot. She wanted to go out with a bang, not a whimper. She hadn’t told the advertising director for Neiman Marcus that this was her last shoot for them. That was Herman’s job, after all.

She slathered on some more sunscreen, resettled her khaki squish hat so it shaded her eyes, and reset her camera.

“Okay, ladies, let’s make this a good one. The sooner we get it right, the sooner you can go play.”

While they shifted, she shot, glancing eastward at the thunderheads gathering on the horizon. Knowing that a storm could cost them not only hours but days, she pushed hard, leaving no one with breaktime.

“Have a heart,” one of the models complained.

“I don’t. Let’s set up the next one.”

They had no need of a wind machine to blow skirts and tresses by the time she set her camera down. The sky had turned an ominous silver gray shot with purple and flashes of lightning in the distance.

“It’s coming our way, so let’s get out of here.” They all clambered into the waiting vehicles; rain dotted the windshields as they wound their way up the steep dirt track back to what could barely be called a road. Whoever had found that location had been an intrepid searcher.

It would be called a gullywasher back home, Jenn thought, staring out her hotel window some hours later. They’d driven through a couple of streams that caused her to hold her breath, but they made it back.

The only bad thing, no planes would be flying in this. But the shoot was done. A full day ahead of schedule. Or rather, ahead of the revised schedule, since they’d put it back for her. A day less of shooting would save the ad department a chunk of change. Which would make them even happier. She’d known the shots were good. Everything came together for a change, something unheard of in this
prima donna
world.

As soon as she entered her room, she called Katheryn, grateful when she heard the connection go through. Storms could disrupt the phones, too.

“What have you heard?”

“Your present got here. Takes a lot to make her smile right now, but that did. Where did you find such a huge gray cat?”

“FAO Schwartz. That size is usually more for display than sale, but I wanted something she could look at from a distance and still see.”

“She can see it. They are disinfecting the little one so she can have that in her bed. What a good idea to send both.”

“It’s so little.”

“I know. When I’m there I feel so helpless.”

“So how are they holding up?”

Katheryn sighed. “She’s doing well enough that the surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“How are you doing, Katheryn?” Jenn knew if there had been word, someone would have let her know. Not Frank, of course. She might have fallen off the face of the earth for all he cared. Or knew.

“Time for truth?”

“Would you tell me anything else?”

“I’d sugarcoat sometimes.”

“But now?”

“I’m impatient when I’m awake, and while I’m not taking anything, when I do sleep, I fall into this soundproof pit where I sleep twelve, fifteen hours. No one needs that much sleep, or that kind of sleep.”

“They say that grieving takes a lot of energy.”

“Sometimes I …”

Jenn could hear a sniff. Was Katheryn crying? Should she ask? What would it take to break Katheryn’s barriers down?

“You don’t have to be Ms. Super Capable with me, Katheryn. I will love you no matter what.”

“Who in the—” A choke covered by a cough. “Sorry, excuse me.” She turned aside to cough again.

“Who in the heaven or the other place, gave me permission to talk to you like that?”

“Something like that.”

“Katheryn, I don’t know why, but I feel God put the three of us together for a reason.”

“You believe God does things like that?” Her voice still wore a tinge of sarcasm.

“I tried not to believe, I tried to run, drown that voice, quiet it with whatever it took, but it’s still there. Songs from my childhood in Sunday school come into my mind, now that I have a clear mind again. Wisps of Bible verses. I see what is going on with Mellie. Why, when she asked Mr. Johnson if he would teach her how to drive, I almost shouted, ‘Miracle! We have a bonafide miracle right here!’ ”

“Yeah, me too.” Another silence fell. “Why can I talk so much easier with you on the phone than with my Susan and Kevin? I have friends, friends I’ve had for years, and I want to run, hide when they call or come by.”

“I don’t know. Strange creatures we are.”

“How are things with Frank?”

Ah, she needs to change the subject
. “Frank who?”

“That bad, huh?”

Yeah, now who needed to be honest?
“I haven’t heard a peep from him since I left. And yes, he has my phone number. Or if not, he could get it from my mother.” Hope flared like a tiny birthday candle. And blew out just as easily. He wouldn’t call. He had too much pride. Unless he got real drunk and was feeling maudlin, then he might call. If he had her number.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” Katheryn’s comment was more statement than question.

“Yeah, for most of my life. You’d think I’d outgrow it, wouldn’t you?” Jenn glanced at the clock. “Please tell them I called. And thanks.”

“Me too.”

The storm passed on overnight, leaving behind downed palm fronds
and coconuts, high seas and a foot of water on the tarmac. As soon as that was swept away, their plane readied for takeoff.

Jenn leaned her seat back and closed her eyes, wishing only to be left alone.
God, I know You are there, and if I believe all I’ve learned through the years, I know that You love me. I just don’t feel very loved, not by You, by my parents as much as they are able, since they have no understanding of my life, and I thank You that they don’t. And if You’ve noticed, I don’t have a lot of real friends. I thought Frank was one, and You know I wanted more than friendship, but I guess he and I have different definitions of friendship, let alone love. I do have these two women whom I would never have chosen as friends, and yet—they have shown more concern for me and desire for my companionship than anyone. And Lissa, what a kid. God, You’ve got to heal her, You just have to. I know I have nothing to bargain with, not that you are of a bargaining persuasion, but if there is anything I can do to help make this easier for them, please let me know. I have so much, and they have so little. Give me wisdom and an open heart. I’ve already told You how sorry I am for these dissolute years, and if I understand Your plan, I’m forgiven
. A great rush of gratitude welled up and, like an incoming wave, nearly swamped her in its magnificence. Tears rushed up and out, and all she could hear, even above the roar of the plane engines, was
I love you, I love you, I love you
. Repeated over and over until she drifted off to sleep on a swell of peace.

She booked a flight for Seattle for the next morning.

One more shoot to go.

Frank, what’s happening with you?

S
he stood bereft and spurned by those who once claimed to love her. Dust-coated and blackened with ash, she wished that she might sink and implode into the crater-wound on her flank.
Am I cast off and with no worth in your sight, my Creator? My friends prod and study me but do not rejoice over my survival
. She groaned in despair. Would life ever return to the wasteland she’d become?

H
e could feel eyes drilling into his back. Did he look so bad that Maybelle was glaring at him? He sucked in a deep breath and nearly coughed on the fumes. The peppermint gum had not helped. Nor the mouthwash. He should have tried the cloves. Someone told him they helped. But to chew a real clove, he shuddered at the thought. He’d accidentally cracked one in a pickle and that woke him right up at the time.

Lay off, lady. This is my life, and I don’t need any more sermons. The last one I heard was enough to …
He slammed the door to his office, setting the vertical blinds to clacking.

Right now he wished he’d kept a stash in his desk, but he’d been neither that far gone nor that stupid.

“I am not an alcoholic.” He spoke the words distinctly. After all, he was not drunk. He had a hangover. Big difference. He did not drink on the job. He did not need a drink to get through the day. He was able to stop drinking when he wanted to. He had never missed a day’s work because he was drunk or hungover. He only drank for one reason—to forget.

If only the headache would cease and desist. He opened a desk drawer, pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, and popped two, washing them down with the pitcher of water he kept full on his desk. They said to stay healthy one must drink eight glasses of water daily, and he came pretty close to that.

A knock at the door brought forth a gruff, “Enter.”

He knew who it was by the pattern of knocks.

“You got a minute?” Maybelle stood in the doorway.

“Not if you are going to lecture me.”

“Why ever would I do that?” The sarcasm in her tone nearly gagged him.

“You don’t do saccharine well, so out with it.”

“I’m only saying this for your own good.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got two.”

Maybelle crossed the room, keeping her gaze on his. “You look like you feel.”

“I know that. What next?”

“There is scuttlebutt that the powers that be are about to go after you.”

“For what?”

“The drinking.”

“It’s not slowed me down. I do a better job than three men.”

“That’s because you work untold hours so you don’t have to go home. Sleeping here does not constitute as work.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Frank, I just want to help.”

“How’d you hear this?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Maybelle, you can be fired so fast you couldn’t get your desk cleaned out quick enough.”

“So what, fire me and I’ll have you up on unjustified termination along with sexual harassment so fast your head will swim. Besides, I can retire any time I want, and if you badger me too much, I might want tomorrow.”