The Sweet By and By (29 page)

“Three at the latest, Jade. I've got to run some errands and get dinner before the rehearsal.”

“I'm on my way.” She'd have a full truck bed when she returned home tonight.

“Guess wedding details can mess with a girl's schedule.” Lynette's tone softened.

“You might say that.” Jade snapped her phone shut, grabbed a bite of the cinnamon bun that had been there all morning, and rounded the office door to the shop. “Lillabeth, my darling, dear, beautiful employee.”

“Nothing good ever starts with those words.”

“I've got to run to Nashville and pick up the Lugger estate items. They're too valuable and unique to let them go. Can you handle the shop by yourself?”

“I'm your girl. I'll even open tomorrow for you if you want, after church. You can have the afternoon off.”

“Still begging for more hours? What's up, Lillabeth? It's not like your parents don't have money.”

“I owe someone, like I said.” Lillabeth walked from behind the counter and started straightening the pumpkin display.

“Owe who?” Jade dusted crumbs and sugar icing from her fingers, reaching under the counter for a wet wipe.

“A friend.” Lillabeth's eyes glistened.

“Did you borrow money? Lose her favorite top?”

“I wrecked
his
car.”

“Oh, honey.” Jade stepped closer. “Was it bad?”

Lillabeth nodded, wiping her eyes. “Fifteen hundred dollars' worth.”

“That's a lot of vintage.”

“Every time I think of it, I get all watery.” Lillabeth's laugh was weak but buoyed with hope. “I gave Alex my savings, but I still need eight hundred dollars. My parents were pretty mad. They're making me earn the money to pay Alex back.” She kicked at the largest pumpkin, knocking over a little pilgrim man. “I stayed up all night to figure out a plan, going over what I had saved, what I could earn here. My dad is
big
on having a plan.”

“What about basketball?” Jade stooped to set the man on his buckle-shoe feet.

“I quit the team.”

“Lilla, no—”

“I wasn't having fun anymore, Jade. When I smashed Alex's car, the only way I could pay him was to try to work more hours, so I left the team. Coach understood.”

“Then work all you want. I'll contribute to the cause. And I'd be grateful if you'd open tomorrow for me.”

Lillabeth brightened. “I'll be here right after church. Thank you, Jade.”

Back in the office, Jade grabbed her purse and the shop checkbook. Keys? Got them. Office was all good. She surveyed her desk and shelves to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Flipping off the light, she closed the door behind her.

“Count down the drawer when you close, and put the money in the bag. I'll worry about the deposit on Monday.” Jade gave a few other last-minute instructions to Lillabeth. Not that she needed them. “Oh, Roscoe. He's up in the loft. Can you walk him in an hour or so? Feed him about five?”

That was it. She remembered everything. Jade headed for the storeroom door.

“Jade?” Lillabeth's call was soft. “What about your mama?”

Mama. Right, she'd forgotten Mama. Willow was off hiking, so there was no one else to keep her company. “I'll just, you know.” Jade exhaled, glancing toward the storeroom. “Take her with me.”

“Have fun.”

“Right.” Four hours in the truck with Mama?
Fun
was not the word Jade had in mind. Opening the storeroom door, Jade was fairly confident Mama would say no to a road trip anyway.

She was reclined in the pea-green and brown wooly chair, wearing the headset even though the turntable wasn't turning.

“Mama?” Jade lightly jiggled her foot. Her eyes popped open, and she sat up with a start.

“Jade. Sorry, guess I dozed off.” She slipped the headset off.

“It's okay.” Given Mama's circumstances. “Listen, I'm going to Nashville to pick up some inventory for the shop.” If she didn't say anything else, maybe she could just slip out the door with a casual good-bye.

“Are you inviting me along?” Mama lowered the footrest, rubbing her hand over her eyes. Strands of gray hair freed from her braid floated around her head.

“I'll pull the truck to the door.”

Beryl watched the hills of Tennessee out her window as Jade sped along I-24 toward Nashville, the old International truck rattling and shimmying.

Light flashed over her arms and legs, the rays of sun fighting a thick blue army of clouds rolling in from the north.

“Think it'll snow?”

Jade leaned over the wheel and peered out through the windshield. “In the mountains, maybe. It's a little early for down here.”

“Reckon so.”

Jade hadn't said much since they started out. Other than, “Want a coffee? I'm stopping at 7-11.”

Maybe she should've said no to Jade's offhand invitation. The recliner was comfortable, and the music eased the ache in her bones and puttied the cracks in her heart.

“Max,” she ventured. “What's he up to today?”

“Golfing with his buddies, then doing some kind of bachelor party in the city. One of them has a house on the river.”

“Does he golf much? June said he had bad back problems from time to time.”

“June should mind her own business.”

“What did he think of Dustin?”

“They didn't meet. But he's happy Dustin signed the papers.”

“Was it hard, Jade, to see Dustin after all these years?” A bit of music would be good. Beryl pushed the radio button, but no sound came.

“It's broken.” Jade gazed out her window for the span of a few mile markers. “Seeing him wasn't hard. It's the remembering.”

“I wouldn't want to see any of my exes.” Beryl shuddered. Got rid of most of them as soon as she could. Except Harlan. She'd like to see him again. It took a bit of mental scrounging to add up the reasons for their demise.

“Not even the lieutenant?”

“No.” The simple answer lingered between them. “Your dad, though. I was just thinking I'd like to see Harlan.”

“Not me. He can kiss my—”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“I heard you arguing that day I got lost in the cornfield.”

“What day? When were you lost in the cornfield?” Her memory wasn't what it used to be. Willow claimed it was because she spent a few too many years smoking weed.

“Don't you remember? I was gone most of the night. The sheriff 's deputies came. Snoops the hound dog found me. I was eight.”

Beryl shook her head. “You'd think I'd remember.”

Jade sighed. “Yeah, you'd think.”

“Don't get huffy. We all store different memories.”

“Not remembering the solo I sang in fourth grade is understandable, but having your kid lost in a cornfield?”

“You sang a solo?”

“No, Mama, I'm just saying—”

“What were your dad and I arguing about?” There'd been so many around that time. A few of the reasons she let Harlan go tapped her mental calculator.

“He was going to Washington, and neither of you wanted Aiden and me.”

“Never. Jade, what kind of accusation is that? I was angry at him for taking the job without talking to me—he had a way of leaping before consulting— but we loved you two.” Beryl looked at Jade. Out her window, there was a patch of blue sky showing between the storm clouds. It was so low, it almost appeared even with the truck.

“I heard both of you.” The truck surged forward as Jade pushed harder on the gas. “He said he didn't want kids, you said it was your turn to do for yourself.”

Beryl stared out her window, her chin resting in her hand. Fragments of the conversation replayed in her mind. “Your dad and I loved you and Aiden.”

“Could've fooled me.”

Beryl adjusted the lap seatbelt and repositioned. Her leg was falling asleep. “Was it so bad? With me as a mother?” She was sick, dying. What the heck. Ask the hard ones.

“Sometimes, yeah. You left us with Granny a lot, Mama. It felt like we were such an unbearable burden to you.” Jade glanced at her, then back at the road, shifting in her seat, reaching for the radio's power knob.

“It doesn't work, remember?”

“Got to get that thing fixed.”

“You weren't a burden . . . you kids.” Beryl ran her hand over the weave of her braid. Dr. Meadows said she'd most likely lose her hair during chemo and suggested she cut the braid before her hair thinned to nothing. “Seems I was a burden to you though. I remember you stopped having civil conversations with me. One day we were talking, the next we weren't.”

“Is that how you see it?” Jade gripped her hands tightly around the wide wheel. “Just one day, boom, I stopped talking to you?”

“Seems so.” Beryl remembered being close to Jade during her breakup with Dustin and the subsequent ordeal. Then . . .

The cab was hot. Fog crept up the windshield. Beryl cracked open her window.

“The defroster is busted too.”

“Why don't you have Max buy you a new truck?” Beryl said. The chilled air felt good on her face.

“I'm not marrying him for his money.”

“Did I say you were? But this old rattle trap . . . reminds me of Paps' old junker. I'm surprised this thing runs.”

“It runs great. Just had it in the shop, and Zach said it'll outlive us all.”

“Okay, Jade. Didn't mean nothing by it. Max seems like a generous man, that's all.”
The girl wrestles. Best leave her be, let her settle.

The truck lurched, hesitated, then fired forward. “What's going on, Petunia?” Jade clutched and downshifted, patting the dash to the rattling of the engine. “Come on, girl, keep going. Did you hear me say what Zach said? You'll be running long after I'm gone.”

“Maybe she doesn't like that, Jade.” Beryl held onto her door handle, sitting up straight.

Petunia choked and gurgled, the motor gasping and losing power. Jade flipped on her hazards and eased onto the berm. I-24 traffic zipped past. Steam hissed out from under the hood.

“Want me to take a look? I've been broken down a few times in my life.”

“I just had her in the shop. How can this be?” Jade clicked off the engine, smacking her fist against the wheel.

Beryl popped open her door. “All old things must die, Jade, sooner or later.”

Twenty-five

“Water pump's broke.”

“We figured.” Mama had called it. Jade angled around to read the name stitched on the man's shirt. “Clem, how long to fix it?”

He patted his hand over his sewn-on name, then smoothed it down over the too-large shirt. “Name's Wayne, but my shirt got a hole in the front so I borrowed Clem's. He's off today, left this hanging in the washroom.”

“You should've gone with the holey shirt, Wayne,” Jade said. The one he wore was covered with grease. “But anyway, the truck? How long? An hour, two, three?”

“No, no, got to get the part in.” He walked over to the body shop's office. “We don't stock the part you need. This here truck is too ding-dang-dong old. An International. Ain't seen one of these in years. Parts come up from Atlanta. In fact”—he took a skipping kind of step—“I'll go do that right now.”

“And
awaaay
we go.” Mama bent forward, hiking her left foot up to her right knee, and with a pump of her fists, skipped after Wayne.

“What are you doing?” Jade frowned.

“Jackie Gleason. ‘And
awaaay
we go.'” Mama did the move again.

Jade raised her eyebrows, then popped the air with her fist. “‘To the moon, Alice, to the moon.'”

Mama laughed. Then the two fell silent. Standing in opposite corners at the garage.

“All righty, the part's ordered,” Wayne said, finally returning. “Hope to have it Monday by ten, get it fixed. Then you gals can get back on the road. Sorry for the delay.”

“Monday? By ten? Wayne, seriously, there's no way you can get the part today? I'll be happy to pay extra. Can we drive to Murfreesboro? Nashville?”

“No can do. Part is shipped in from Atlanta. You all need a ride somewhere?

We ain't got much for motels and hotels here in Beechgrove. I can drive you into Murfreesboro for a hotel or you can hole up at Miss Linda's. She's got a nice bed-and-breakfast. Want me to get her on the horn?”

“Yes,” Mama quickly agreed.

“No,” Jade insisted.

Jade and Mama faced off. “What's wrong with Miss Linda's?”

“I'd rather find a hotel in Murfreesboro.” Jade turned to Wayne. “How far to the nearest hotel?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes. I can drive you out, but Monday I'm the only one here, so you'll have to take a taxi.”

“Where's Miss Linda's?” Mama asked.

Wayne walked to the edge of the bay and pointed toward a fiery golden maple tree with a gingerbread cottage sitting beneath it.

“Right there. You can walk. If she were on her stoop, I could holler a conversation with her.”

“Jade, she's right there.” Mama motioned. “If we go to Murfreesboro, we'll have to eat out . . . We'll have no way to get around. I can't walk very far, Jade. I'm sorry.”

“Miss Linda makes a mean pot roast and rolls.”

The idea of a home-cooked meal certainly appealed to Jade. But a weekend in a bedroom with Mama? She sighed.

“Get Miss Linda on the horn, Wayne.”

Wayne whipped the portable phone from his pocket. Five minutes later Jade stood between twin beds in a room that looked like a flower garden had exploded—on the walls, on the bedcovers, in the picture frames.

“Towels are in the closet.” Miss Linda motioned to the bathroom. “I serve snacks at ten and four except on Sunday, and then only snacks at four. Will you all be attending service with me tomorrow?”

“Service?”