Facelift (37 page)

I glance at Isabel. She’s sitting on her block, head in her hands, back hunched. Then I close my own eyes and offer my feeble attempts at a prayer for Lily’s family to find peace and for the rest of us to find meaning in all of this. At the end of what seems like a very long, very quiet minute, Jack clicks a key on the sound board and piano notes float through the arena from Steven Curtis Chapman’s “Cinderella.”

When Isabel stands, Gabe is standing right beside her. He opens his arms and she steps into his embrace, laying her head against his shoulder. The growth of their relationship doesn’t surprise me or frighten me anymore. After a moment Izzie looks up and their lips brush. A tiny pinch in my belly makes me feel intrusive and I glance away.

“Don’t worry.” Jack watches me, and my cheeks warm. “They’re good kids.”

I press my lips together to keep them from trembling. “I know.”

I can’t explain my strange emotions, happy for my daughter to find someone as nice and caring as Gabe, and yet . . . I feel suddenly very alone.

“It’s gonna be a good day.” Jack places a hand on my shoulder. I want to dip my head and lay my cheek against the back of his hand. But he said,
Our
kids. Gabe is becoming his son. And Pam should be his wife.

I sniff away more tears and offer a watery smile. “What time are you swimming?”

“Same time as you.”

My stomach drops.

He grins. “Wanna race?”

I give a nervous laugh. “I don’t stand a chance.”

Chapter Twenty-five

The day is half gone, and the dollar amount posted on the white board continues to climb. Each time a swimmer finishes their laps, they add up how much they earned and the amount is posted. Swimmers’ legs are wobbly as they’ve given everything they have in honor of Lily’s memory.

At first it felt wrong somehow for kids to be laughing and enjoying themselves, cheering for their friends in the pool, eating fast food. Carrie Underwood’s “Ever Ever After” blares out from the speakers, her voice ricocheting off the rafters and soaring out over the pool. But we can only be sorrowful for so long. I’m not sure Lily would want us to mope around. It wouldn’t reflect her spirit. Those that leave for the arms of Jesus want celebrations. The concentration on the swimmers’ faces as they start their laps, then the slack exhaustion as they emerge from the pool, turn into smiles of accomplishment and satisfaction as they see their contribution posted on the white board.

“Hey, Mrs. Redmond.” Jeanne, one of the swimmers, takes my offered bottle of water.

“Good job.” I close the lid to the giant cooler filled with iced water bottles.

“Thanks. I’m wiped out.” She unscrews the top and takes a long pull. “Where’s Izzie?”

“In the stands.” I wave toward where I saw her last. Then I see Gabe talking to his mom, Pam, when Jack approaches them. He gives Gabe a clap on the back and Pam a hug. A long hug. Not that I notice. Why shouldn’t he? They’re friends. Good friends. Probably more than friends. I ignore the way my stomach clamps in on itself.

“I’m good.” Jeanne sips her water.

Glancing down, I realize I was offering her another. “Oh, yeah. Good. Good job today.”

She gives me a side glance and walks away. I busy myself dunking more bottles into the icy bath.

“Kaye?”

I freeze, look at Pam. “Hello.”

We toss back chitchat, my smile forcefully bright when she asks, “Have you been to see Terry yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I was thinking maybe we could sneak away from here together.”

“Oh, well, uh . . .” I’d actually thought of going just before my scheduled swim in hopes of missing my race with Jack. Chicken that I am. “I guess that would be okay.”

Two minutes later at Pam’s insistence, Jack assures me he can handle everything until we get back. With his usual smile, he adds, “Just be sure you’re back in time for our race.”

“Ooh,” Pam coos as we head toward my car. “Sounds serious between you and Jack.”

Startled, I study her expression but don’t find any spite or prying as I might if Marla had said this. “Not at all. Just a joke. I don’t stand a chance.”

In so many ways.

We’re silent in the car until we’re almost to Terry’s house. A nervousness seizes me. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“No words are necessary. Trust me, I’ve been there.” She has. “We’re just offering hugs, a shoulder to cry on, and our support.”

With a trembling feeling inside, I park in front of Terry’s home. Already there’s a pink mourning wreath on the door. “We should have brought something.”

Pam touches my arm. She has a calm, reassuring way about her. “
Something
won’t make her feel better.”

But
something
would give us something to talk about, something to say, something to focus on. Or that’s what Marla would do. That’s how she would respond. So maybe Pam’s way is best.

Surprisingly Terry is more pulled together than I ever would have imagined. She shows us inside and we meet her sister, Beth, before she hurries off to the kitchen and gives us a few minutes together.

Terry gives me another fierce hug. “Thanks for coming.”

When tears threaten, I blink hard. “We didn’t want to intrude.”

Pam waves us toward the sofa and sits down with us. “I could use a distraction or two.”

Pam sits on one side of Terry. “Can we get you anything? Or do anything for you?”

“I can’t think of anything. Of course,” she gives an odd laugh, “I can’t put two thoughts together.”

Pam nods and I follow suit, sitting next to my friend, my heart as heavy. Then silence invades. I glance at Pam, try to take cues from her. She seems content in the emptiness where I want to fill it up. But with what?

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Terry leans back into the sofa and rubs her brow. “When Lily was born, I never imagined something like this could happen. When I married . . . I never thought anything could break us up. But Miles can’t cope. He’s a basket case. He says he may not even go to the funeral. Can you imagine?”

Pam scoots closer to Terry and places an arm around her shoulder. “Men struggle with grief, with expressing themselves.”

“Maybe I should have been there more for him. Maybe I ignored him too much while I tended Lily.”

I touch my shoulder to Terry’s. “You did what you had to do.”

“Even when Luke was dying,” Pam’s voice is feather-soft, “I felt guilty for taking care of the kids, thinking he needed me. And when I took care of him, I felt guilty for not being there for the kids. I felt fractured.”

Terry nods, her mouth compressed into a tight line. “Exactly. It was a no-win situation.” She stares down at her clasped hands, her knuckles white. Then her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m all alone.”

As quickly as the tears appear, she jumps up from the sofa, sniffing, wiping her nose with a tissue she pulls from her pocket. “I’m okay.” She holds out a hand to keep us from approaching. “Really.”

Pam crosses her legs. “Have you ever read Proverbs 31?”

“Who hasn’t?” Terry searches her pocket.

I spot a box of tissues on the table and hand her a fresh one. “It’s the overachieving woman of the Bible.”

“With servant girls,” Terry adds.

Our laughter diffuses the tension in the room.

“That’s what I used to think.” Pam rubs the palm of her hand. “But then someone explained to me what it actually says. It says a woman of noble character—”

“That makes me feel like a failure right there.” Where is Pam taking this conversation? I thought we were supposed to help lift Terry’s mood?

“Yeah.” Terry paces. “All I can think of doing at the moment is anything but noble. Like smacking my husband. Or punching the wall.”

I nod.

But Pam claps her hands. Just one solid clap. “Exactly. But in reality, in the original language, that word isn’t noble. It’s valor.”

I blink. “Really?”

Terry stills then blows her nose.

“Gives a whole different picture to that passage, doesn’t it?”

Terry nods and I stand, move toward her and place my arms around her. “You definitely qualify for a medal of valor.”

Back at the natatorium, I’m sitting on one of the boards, my bare feet in a puddle of water, dreading my turn in the lane, next to Jack. He hasn’t emerged from the dressing area yet. I do a little stretching, not that it will help much. Mostly I cinch the terrycloth belt at my waist and pull my cover-up tighter around me. The swimmer in the lane where I’ll soon be plunged does a flip at the end and strokes back across the pool. Something red to my left catches my eye. Harry walks in my direction and carries red roses in his arms.

“Kaye!” He grins as he approaches. “How’s the event going?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“When we first got here, we heard Lily had passed away, so we went and got flowers for Isabel.”

“That’s very sweet of you. She’s up in the stands somewhere.” I glance upward until I locate her fuzzy head.

He nods, his gaze following mine. “Are you getting ready to swim?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It’ll probably be half a lap.”

He laughs. “Then I won’t bother sponsoring you per lap. How about if I just leave a check?”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Harry. Thank you. How’s Marla?”

“She’s around.” He leans toward me, and I smell some light aftershave on his skin. “She was feeling . . . well, you know. She’s . . . around here somewhere. Didn’t want to make a show of being here.”

I’m actually surprised she came. Maybe it’s a step in the right direction. “That was kind of her to come too. Please thank her for us, in case I don’t see her.”

“I will. I will.” He lifts the roses and lets them fall back to his other hand, making tiny bits of water pop outward.

“You really love Marla, don’t you?”

His lips flatten. “Have for a long time.”

“Did you meet in the village?”

“Oh, no. I unstopped many a toilet at her house. Twenty-five years worth.”

“Really!”

He nods. “Knew her husband too. He was a good man. Attentive to his home. And I try to be as well. I don’t want you to think I’m some stranger stalking Marla.”

I laugh. “Not at all. I can tell.”

“You can?”

I lean back, resting my weight on my hands, the board scratching my palms. “That other man . . . Anderson. He was peculiar. He didn’t care about Marla. Not the way you do. Or I didn’t think so. Not the peripheral things in her life anyway. But you . . . you’re just different, Harry. In a very good way.” I imagine what a good husband he was and what a good husband he’ll be to Marla if she ever gives him the chance. “Do you have children, Harry?”

“No, we never did. We weren’t able and there weren’t test tubes for that then. But we had each other. And that was enough. But now, now that my wife is gone . . . I wish we’d had children . . . grandchildren.”

I cup my hand around his and give a little squeeze. If anyone can teach Marla about love and what it means, I believe Harry can. “I think you’ll be good for her.”

“I’ll try. But what about you, Kaye?”

“Me?” I stand and give my arms a shake, doubtful they’ll be able to pull me very far in the water.

He looks down for a moment. “Cliff married someone else.”

“That was for the best.” It’s a glib line that comes straight from my heart. There was a time when I might have said those exact words but not meant them. They would have rung false. But not now. “Really, I’m all right.”

“You gotta look at the bright side.”

“You’re right. And I think, maybe . . .” My gaze swerves toward Jack, who is walking toward us, his torso bare, his tan skin gleaming with water droplets, his smile bright. “If I’m lucky enough to win the heart of a man someday”—my smile wavers but my heartfelt words steady it—“then I hope he’ll be as kind as you.”

The swimmer ahead of me is still going strong. He pauses at the edge of the pool and holds up a hand, signaling he’s going to attempt another five laps. “No problem.”

Jack steps beside me and I’m embarrassed to confess my heart kicks up a notch. “Giving me a head start?”

“Of course. By the time I hit the water, you’ll be exhausted.” I smile. “And my chances increase.”

“Only if we swim one lap.”