The Sweet By and By (11 page)

“In a few weeks, I'll say it in front of Whisper Hollow and all of heaven.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as her will and emotions rebounded from the raw bomb of anxiety. She'd work every day of their marriage to deserve him.

“Jade, darling, it's one forty.” June started for her car. “We'd better get you back to the shop.”

“See you tonight?” Max said, still holding her close, kissing her softly.

“See you tonight. And Max”—she brushed her hand over his thick chest— “if your mother doesn't make it home . . .”

“Benson Law has a fine capital defense team.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, everyday brightness returning to her internal world.

“Back there . . .” Max walked with her to June's car. “That was about more than me talking with Rice, wasn't it?”

“Back there was just a little bit of my old life trying to cheat the new.”

Nine

Riding ten hours in the car with Willow from Prairie City to Whisper Hollow wore every fiber of Beryl's being down to a bare thread.

“Why didn't we rent a car? It's a hundred degrees in this death trap.” Willow hooked her bare heels over the edge of the seat and hung her head out the window of Beryl's Corolla as it clattered and rattled toward Whisper Hollow. “Sorry we didn't make your wedding, Jade. We spontaneously combusted.”

“Would you please, please, for the love of Pete, shut up?” Beryl swore, white-knuckling the wheel. The Corolla was a good, solid vehicle. So a little hot air blew in from the engine. And the floorboard was like a griddle when the muffler pipe heated up. At least it was warm. “I didn't see you forking up the money to rent a car.”

“Hey, I'm a poor college student.”

“Aren't you throwing the word
student
around loosely?”

“I'll go back to school. Sheesh, between you and Jade.” Willow picked at the exposed foam in the torn vinyl seat. “I need a little time to find myself.”

Beryl squinted at Willow as if seeing herself forty years ago. What could she say?
Do what I say, not what I did?

“We should've flown, Beryl. This is ridiculous. Aiden said he'd buy our tickets.”

“Can you complain a bit more, Willow? I'm not quite sick of you yet.” Beryl had refused her son's offer. The least she could do at this stage of her life was pay her own way to her daughter's wedding. “What would we do for wheels once we got to Whisper Hollow? You want to be cooped up in a bed-and-breakfast for three weeks?”

“Have mercy, no.”

“Try to sleep,” Beryl said in a softer tone. “You're driving in an hour anyway.”

“It's too hot to sleep and the seat doesn't even go all the way back. And look, this side is broken. My face falls against the door. Hello, white trash, your name is Beryl Hill.”

“Willow.” Beryl sighed, holding back the rest of her rebuke. The girl was right; the car was hot and old, with broken, battered seats. Beryl just couldn't see paying good money for a new car that devalued the moment she drove it off the lot.

“Wake me when it's my turn.” Willow stuffed ear buds into her ears and scanned her iPod for a playlist selection.

“Sleep well.” Beryl recognized her daughter's unique way of saying “I'm sorry.”

With Tennessee a few hours away and night beginning to fall, Beryl let her thoughts wander, moving between anticipation and indifference.
Seeing Jade tomorrow will be the first time since Mother's funeral.

Bearing down on the gas with the vibrations of the old car in her chest, Beryl took an I-24 curve and headed south, her thoughts drifting, her mind wandering time's old corridors.

Prairie City, August 1998

Sitting in the kitchen with Mother, Beryl raised her coffee mug to her lips with a glance at the ceiling. Directly above them, Jade packed for college, the radio blasting. In between dragging her suitcase across the floor and the metal clap of dresser drawer-pulls, she answered the incessant phone calls.

Her excited conversations drifted down through the floorboards and boxed the silence hovering between Beryl and Mother.

“I'd forgotten how you can hear the gnats gnawing in this house,” Beryl said.

“Paps and I never could figure out why they built this place with paper walls. But it was forty years old when we bought it, so who knows what the builder had in mind.”

“Do you want more coffee?” Beryl got up, her empty mug hooked over her finger.

“I'll never sleep if I have another cup. Beryl, how's Gig? I haven't seen him in a while.”

Gig was gone, but Mother didn't need to know right now. “Did I tell you I'm back at Midwest Parcel?”

“Rolf let you come back again, did he?” Mother twirled her cup, a gold-trimmed Lennox with the holly leaves, against the saucer.

“Whether he liked it or not. Union rules.” The phone rang again. Jade's footsteps thundered over their heads. The bed squeaked as she landed on the mattress, probably diving for the phone. “Seems all of Prairie City is calling to say good-bye.”

“You're upset she's leaving, Beryl? Mercy knows I didn't sleep the entire summer you were in San Francisco. Paps would turn on the news so we could see what was going on out there, and . . .”

“It's not
that
she's leaving, Mother, but
how
.” Beryl popped open the bread box. A piece of toasted bread sounded good.

“I've prayed a lot of prayers for that girl. She'll be fine.”

“Because you prayed?” Beryl shoved down the toaster lever. “Who knows, maybe. More likely, she'll be fine because she's a smart girl.”

“Even the wise need wisdom.”

Didn't Beryl know it. Growing up, she resented her parents' religious beliefs.

Do this; don't do that.
She fought them. Quit church at her first opportunity.

But in the past few years, there'd been nights when Beryl's only comfort was the thought of her parents' prayers.

“Think she'll ever come home?” Beryl opened the drawer for a butter knife, the cupboard for a small plate. “From school?”

“She best come home. I'm here, and Willow and Aiden. You work out your differences with her on your own time. Besides, Beryl, can she ever really leave?

This is her home, where her heart lives.”

What girl did Mother observe around the house these days? Jade was already gone in mind, soul, and spirit. Tomorrow, the body.

“Why isn't she down here asking for help? Doesn't she need something washed or ironed? Or mended?” Beryl carried her buttered bread and coffee to the table.

“She's been shopping for clothes and supplies all month,” Mother said. “I gave her some money from what Paps set back for the kids' college. Good thing she and Aiden earned scholarships. I hated using the savings to replace my dead car, but I have to get to work.”

“Is Daddy's old truck running? I might like to drive it for a while.”

“It runs . . . barely.” Mother held her gaze for a moment, peering a bit too close. “Keys are where they always are.”

Beryl nodded, knowing the keys hung on the wall hook. “Thank you.”

“You'll always have a home here, Beryl. You know that, don't you?”

“Yeah, Mother, I know.” After all Beryl's rebellion, Mother's kindness was humbling.

The phone chimed again, and Jade caught it on the half ring. Beryl munched her toast, debating if she should just go upstairs and talk to her daughter. Help her out, make sure she had everything she needed for her future in Knoxville and the University of Tennessee.

Brushing bread crumbs from her fingers, Beryl got up from the table, carrying her coffee mug. “I'm going to see if she needs help.”

“All right, but Beryl, Jade hasn't needed your help since she was about nine.”

Mother's hint triggered the dull ache in the middle of Beryl's chest—her baby was leaving home for good. Always before, Beryl had been the one leaving, but she knew Aiden, Jade, and Willow were home safe with Mother. Now, she didn't know exactly where Jade would live or with whom.

At the top of the stairs, Beryl gazed down the hall toward Jade's room. Her long, lean shadow moved against the wall. Thankfully, she wasn't on the phone.

“Need any help?” Beryl called, cat-walking toward Jade's room.

Silence. Beryl braved a stance in the doorway, leaning against the wood frame so it fit perfectly between her shoulder blades.

Several taped-up boxes of Jade's things lined the wall, ready to go.

Last year, when Aiden packed and headed off to college, Beryl had been on the road with her third husband, Gig. But she didn't worry about Aiden. At nineteen, he was a man and beyond competent. She was proud of him.

Jade, however, fluttered around Beryl's heart like a wounded little bird, and she didn't want to let her go.

For the past two years, since Dustin Colter and
that
whole ordeal, Jade had posted an emotional Do Not Enter sign between her and Beryl. Respecting her daughter's boundaries, Beryl figured she'd get over it soon enough. So she continued to wait.

“Your room looks so empty.”

Jade surveyed the wall and floors, her gaze skipping over the door and her mother. “I'm only taking a few things, really.”

“What time do you leave tomorrow morning?”

“Six. Marilee's parents want get to Knoxville before dark. I'm spending the night at their house. Her dad's coming to get me soon.”

Beryl swirled her coffee, fighting sadness.
So she was leaving tonight
. “Do I need to give him money for gas?”

“Nope. All taken care of.”

“Can I pay you back, then? Or Mother.”

“It's all good.”

“I feel like I've hardly seen you this summer. With you working two jobs, and—”

“You off with Gig and his merry band of idiots.”

“We've been around a good bit this summer. Most of July, in fact.” Then Gig decided he needed to travel light and drop a hundred and thirty pounds of Beryl.

The phone rang, and Jade snatched it up. While she bubbled and talked, Beryl braved another step into the room.
Show her your feelings with actions, not words.
Peeking into the oversized leather case that used to belong to Paps, she found Jade's tops and sweaters wadded and mashed instead of folded and organized. Beryl set her coffee on the end table and reached into the suitcase.

“. . . Yeah, it does seem like a long time until Christmas, but the time will go by fast.”

Beryl snagged the comment and stored it for her own comfort.
She'll be home for Christmas.

“I know, I can't wait. College is my ticket out of this hole in the wall . . .

Absolutely I have football tickets. Yeah, it's a long drive from Knoxville to Prairie City.”

Beryl snapped the top straight, laying it out on the bed, folding the sleeves in, then the bottom hem toward the neckline.

When she was Jade's age, she believed that her ticket out of Prairie City was protesting the war in 'Nam, marching on Washington, living in communes, and avoiding The Man named corporate America.

“What are you doing?”

Beryl glanced up to see Jade wide-eyed. “Folding.”

“Well, I don't need you to fold.” Jade tossed the phone to the bed and took the top Beryl had in her hands.

“I'm just trying to help.”

“You're meddling.” Jade smashed the shirt into the suitcase.

“You're going to college, Jade, so I bet you know the true definition of
meddling
.”

“Yeah, and it has your picture beside it.”

All right. This conversation wasn't working. “Isn't Paps' old case great?” Beryl patted the leather edge.

“Yep.” Jade dumped a wad of underwear between the tops, mashing them into place with a glare at Beryl. The praying hands medallion dangling around her neck swung back and forth.

“Once a year, Paps would pack up this bag and drive off to some fishing cabin in Canada. He'd come back relaxed and happy. Mother started teasing him about having a secret lover.”

“Paps would never.” Jade snapped around from the dresser, her arms loaded with jeans. Some still with the tags.

“It was Mother's joke, Jade.”

“Paps was the finest man I've ever known.” She dropped her jeans into the suitcase. “Why did you tell me that, huh? To make yourself feel better?”

“It was a joke.” Beryl sat on the bed out of Jade's way, reaching for her coffee, which was now lukewarm.

“I'm taking the video player,” Jade said, lifting jackets and coats out of the closet. “I bought it with my money.”

“I'll buy a new one for Willow.”

“She likes Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen and VeggieTales movies. Granny has some old cartoons on tape, Bugs Bunny and that lispy cat, but don't show her anything scary, including
The Wizard of Oz
. She'll have nightmares. I'm not kidding, Mama. Don't turn it on thinking I was exaggerating. There's something about Winnie the Pooh that frightens her too.”

“She's eight, Jade. Good grief—”

“Who cares how old she is? If it scares her, don't put it on.”

“All right, I hear you. Be mad at me all you want, Jade, but Willow's still my kid. And it wouldn't hurt you to show me some respect.”

“Respect is earned.” Jade stopped jamming her coat into the case long enough to peer at her. “Willow likes to write to Aiden at school. We've been coloring pictures for him on Wednesdays before she goes to bed. We call him once a week and send e-mails.”

“I don't have an e-mail account.”

“Yes, you do. On AOL. Willow wanted one for you so she could e-mail you when you're gone with Gig or Midwest Parcel, or wherever you've run off to.”

Jade's voice and expression were rock hard. “Pretty sad when your eight-year-old feels she has to e-mail you to keep in touch. She has four e-mail addresses: