Suburban Renewal (That Business Between Us Book 3)

by Pamela Morsi

  Cho Kyon was more forthcoming. But if she knew what was going on with Jin and Nate, she never said anything.

  I finally asked Lauren.

  “Have you and Jin had some kind of disagreement?"

  “What?" Lauren shook her head with certainty. “We get along fine," she assured me. “All we ever talk about is Makayla. And we're both agreed that she is the sweetest, cutest baby girl on earth!"

  Lauren's grin was infectious, like the Lauren I knew so well, but it disappeared too quickly and she was back to this strange gray discontent.

  “What's wrong, Lauren?"

  “Nothing."

  “Are you getting nervous about the wedding?" I asked. “Are you having second thoughts?"

  She shook her head, but she didn't smile.

  "I'm sure it's the right thing," she said. "I'm convinced that God has chosen me to be a helpmate to Gilkison. That's his plan for my life. It's a very special gift." She sighed heavily. “But sometimes, to make room for something new in your life, God has to cut away something that you've cherished."

  “What has God cut away from you?"

  "My dreams," she answered. "My ambition."

  “Are you saying that Gilk won't let you pursue a career?"

  “Oh, a career, probably so," she said. "But marrying him means staying in Waco my whole life. Raising children. Volunteering at church. Doing community work. Those are all good things, worthwhile things. I just had my eyes set on something else."

  She looked so sad, it was breaking my heart.

  “Lauren, if you don't want to marry this guy, you don't have to. Trust me, God will understand."

  She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Thanks, Mom," she said. "I do want to marry him. I know he's stuffy and narrow and sometimes he can be downright arrogant about his opinion, even when he's completely wrong. But he's also kind and good and caring. He loves me. And he needs someone to love him. I do."

  That should have settled things, but it didn't.

  She was still unhappy and I felt powerless to do anything about it.

  My perspective, of course, was not everyone's, as I found out one hot, humid afternoon in August. That morning, like the last several, UPS had delivered a couple of boxes of wedding gifts. Somehow Lauren had yet to get around to opening them. By late afternoon, the girls had settled into the new backyard swimming pool. Makayla, in her little water wings, was splashing around happily with the full attention of her mom and Aunt Lauren.

  When Makayla began tiring and they got out of the pool, I carried the boxes to the deck.

  “Maybe you're not curious about what's in these," I told her, “but I sure am!"

  Lauren smiled, but she didn't seem too enthusiastic.

  “It's more china," she said. "I can tell now by the size of the boxes." She held up the larger one. “This is a place setting. The long, flat one is probably a platter. I don't even have to open them to know that."

  "Do you want me to open them?" I asked.

  Lauren shrugged. “Sure, if you want to."

  Jin snorted. "That is so major princess! You can't even be bothered to open your own gifts. Gotta get Mama to do it."

  The comment, complete with a feigned whiney voice, was so snide and so unexpected, Lauren and I both just stared at Jin in shock. Then Lauren inexplicably teared up. She rose to her feet, picking up her gifts.

  "You are absolutely right," she said. "I am being ungrateful. These people have been so kind to send gifts, I'm going to take them inside and write the thank-you notes immediately."

  Jin and I watched her hurry into the house. I was fairly certain that she was crying.

  "Well, shit," Jin said.

  "Don't talk that way in front of the baby."

  Makayla's ears were all perked up, and you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

  "I'm sorry," Jin said. "I'm sorry about the foul mouth. I'm sorry about hurting Lauren's feelings. I'm sorry. I'm just sorry, sorry, sorry."

  "Jin," I said, "you'll have to tell me what's going on. There's no way that I can guess. Is there trouble between you and Nate?"

  She shook her head.

  "Then what?"

  "I don't know," she said, shrugging. "No, I do know. I know exactly. I'm jealous of Lauren."

  "Jealous?"

  Jin nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Why wouldn't I be? Lauren's got her degree. She's got a man who wants to marry her. She's having a beautiful wedding, moving into a home of her own. She's got everything. Everything that I wanted. And I've got... I've got Makayla."

  Impulsively she pulled the child into her arms. The toddler tolerated it for a moment and then wrenched herself away. It was too hot.

  "Not that I would trade," she assured me hurriedly. "I love my baby. I love being her mother. But..."

  She let the word hang there. There was nothing more to say.

  As the wedding drew closer, Lauren's melancholy lingered. Finally, one evening, I just picked up the phone.

  "Gilk," I told her future husband, "I don't know how you can fix this or what you can do, but you're going to have to try."

  "I know she's been kind of blue lately," he admitted. "I just thought it was wedding jitters."

  "I talked to her about it," I said. "She's certain about wanting to marry you, but it's as if she's grieving for the life she might have had."

  I heard Gilk sigh on the other end of the line. "I'm so much older than her, of course she must feel like she's leaving her youth behind her forever."

  "I don't think that's it," I said. "I don't think she's noticed yet that you're closer to her father's age than her own. This is something different. I don't know, Gilk. You're going to have to work something out with her. I'm just not all that keen on seeing my daughter walk down the aisle without a smile on her face."

  "I'll be there this weekend," he assured me.

  He arrived late on Saturday, just as the whole family was sitting down to dinner. His Land Rover was covered with road film. He wasn't his usual impeccably groomed, completely-in-control self, either. He looked tired, mussed, old.

  Lauren greeted him with a kiss.

  "I didn't know you were coming up this weekend," she said.

  He gave me a quick glance over her head. "I couldn't stay away," he told her. "I have a surprise for you."

  Lauren smiled, but her heart wasn't in it.

  "I hope you didn't buy me anything else," she said. "You've already bought me too much."

  "I had to buy this," he insisted. "What's a wedding without a honeymoon?"

  I was afraid Lauren was going to profess not to want one.

  "Gilk, come sit and eat," I insisted. "Lauren, everybody, back to the table."

  I quickly set another place and we all sat down with Nate and Jin and Makayla.

  The dinner conversation was pleasant, casual. Gilk seemed changed from the man we'd first met. He was not so stuffy, not so sure of himself. In fact, he seemed downright uncertain. He glanced over at Lauren repeatedly, gauging her reaction to everything that was said.

  When Makayla got bored with her high chair, Gilk volunteered to hold her on his lap.

  "You're still eating," he told Jin. "I like kids. Remember, I've got four." He glanced again at Lauren. "But it's been a while and I might need to get back into practice."

  Makayla wasn't content just to sit, but managed to climb all over the man like he was a jungle gym. Gilk handled it with a good deal of patience, even when the toddler scooted back the hair that he'd carefully combed over his bald spot.

  Nate finally took pity on the guy and retrieved his daughter.

  "So, tell us about the honeymoon you've got planned," he said.

  I could have cheerfully kicked my son under the table. Unfortunately, it was too late to have made any difference.

  "Where are you taking Lauren?" he continued. "Fiji? The Caribbean? I hope it's someplace she can show off the tan she's been working on."

  Gilk reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a long envel
ope with plane tickets. He handed them to Lauren.

  "I don't think this is really a bikini place," he said. "Though I've heard that it's very hot."

  Lauren opened the tickets. She sat there reading them, then she looked up confused.

  "Where's Lilongwe, Malawi?" she asked him. "Is that some obscure island?"

  Gilk shook his head. "It's in Africa," he answered. "Sort of tucked in between Zambia and Mozambique."

  "Africa?"

  "Lilongwe has the airport. We'll travel from there to Nkhotakota, where we're going to spend three weeks. They tell me the sunrise over Lake Malawi is like a view of heaven."

  Lauren's expression was incredulous.

  "The accommodations won't be four-star," he warned her. "Truth is, they'll be Spartan at best. But we won't be in them much. The work schedule calls for twelve-hour days. We're helping to build an orphanage for refugee children."

  She just stared at him for a long moment. Then with a squeal of delight, she threw her arms around his neck.

  "I can't believe it," she said. "I prayed for it and prayed for it, but I can't believe it."

  Gilk shrugged. "I figured if you were willing to give me a lifetime in Waco, the least I could offer in return is an annual mission trip for the two of us."

  34

  Sam

  2001

  There was three inches of snow on the ground the morning that Harlan called. Cherry Dale, still comatose since May 1999, had died in her sleep.

  She was the tornado's final victim. That was kind of hard to get my mind around. So much had happened. As a country, we'd been in mourning since September 11, and after so many lives lost, one more death should have felt inconsequential. But it didn't.

  The world went on. We lived our lives. Things changed every day. The rebuilding of downtown into a walking mall, complete with underground parking, was finished. Most of the businesses, including mine, had reopened into new, updated quarters. We even lured a very fashionable anchor store into our project. The old Lumkee Main Street was now functioning as a typical suburban mall. The only difference from the usual mall stores was that there were the small mom-and-pop businesses that made the community special.

  The timing had turned out to be golden. With new technology industries expanding in Tulsa, there was a need for more suburban housing. Growth to the east and south had been ongoing for years. Now suddenly the north suburbs were the place to be. Lumkee was the fastest-growing community in the metro area. And all around us, subdivisions were springing up everywhere, populated by those people who didn't want to drive to south Tulsa to shop. So with a brand-new mall, clean and easily accessible from the expressway, store traffic was up over a hundred percent from before the storm.

  But, of course, the Lumkee we grew up with, the Lumkee we remembered, was gone. And now, Cherry Dale with it.

  Doc called me as soon as he heard.

  "I want to do a viewing at the funeral home," he told me. "Edna won't take me. She says I've got no business there, but I feel up to it. Will you take me, Sam? I want to go."

  Of course I couldn't turn the old man down. He probably didn't have any business there. It was a bitter cold day and the roads were icy. Doc was old and not very strong anymore. He should stay home by the fire. Viewing was ostensibly for family and close friends. We were really neither. But unlike Edna, I recognized the tie the Doc had. Cherry Dale and Mike had killed Floyd Braydon. Just knowing that fact had kept him alive now for years.

  For me, it was still a mixed and muddled mess of feelings. Mike was my friend, but Floyd was my father. I felt sorry for Cherry Dale. I don't condone murder, but my dad did kill my mother. I'd forgiven him for that. Could I forgive Cherry Dale and Mike? I wasn't sure if I truly could. It wasn't the kind of moral dilemma that Gram or Sunday school had prepared me for. I just did what I did best. I kept putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward. And tried to take comfort in the old hymn we used to sing, "We'll understand it better by and by."

  I sat down for breakfast with Nate, these days known as My Son, the Loner.

  Nate worked in his shop, sold his furniture and slept in his room. He never went anywhere, he never saw his friends, he never even talked on the phone.

  Jin and Makayla had moved to Tulsa with Jin's brother. Nate hadn't said a word before, during or after the move. It was as if he had no comment on the lives of his baby or the mother of his child.

  Corrie and I kept up with her, of course. We missed her around the house. We'd become so used to the noise of a little one underfoot, the place seemed too quiet and empty without Makayla.

  Jin was moving on. She was back in school at Oklahoma State's new Tulsa branch campus. It was a comedown from Syracuse, I suppose, but she could leave Makayla with her sister-in-law while she pursued her education. We were happy for her, but sad for Nate. If there had been some big breakup between the two, we never heard any evidence of it. She'd packed up, said goodbye and left. Nate went to his shop as if nothing had happened. Only those of us who loved him could see how much light and joy had walked out with her.

  "I'm going to take Doc to see Cherry Dale at the funeral home this morning," I told him.

  Nate glanced up, surprised.

  "He wants to see her?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, they have... I don't know... she was close to Mike. I think for Doc, that means a lot."

  That seemed reasonable to Nate.

  "I'll go with you," he said.

  "What?"

  "I'll go with you," Nate repeated. "I was thinking to go up there myself. I can just go with you and Grandpa."

  I was surprised, but was glad for any indication that he was interested in something outside his workshop.

  We picked up Doc a little after one. Edna scolded him and us all the way to the car. We were all so used to her, we didn't pay any attention.

  Mullen Funeral Home was in a grand old brick home across the street from the city park. It had suffered some damage in the twister, but was now restored to a former glory that it hadn't shown prior to the storm.

  With Nate on one side and me on the other, we helped Doc negotiate the half-dozen steps up to the front porch. His left leg still didn't work quite right, but he was getting around very well. And when he was determined to do something, there was really no stopping him.

  The funeral director, Delbert Mullen, met us at the door. He shook hands with all of us, but with Doc first. At least among morticians, age still commanded respect. Cherry Dale, he informed us, was laid out in the blue parlor.

  The little room had lots of windows. But without the sunshine, the place was chilly. There was very little furniture. A table with flowers and a visitor's book were next to the door. A long upholstered bench sat in front of the windows. Along the length of the room, raised on a platform to eye level, was the open casket.

  Quietly, as if we thought we might wake her, we walked over and looked inside.

  Cherry Dale was hardly recognizable as the woman that I remembered. She seemed tiny and shrunken in the huge mahogany box.

  “Poor girl," Doc said. "I remember when she used to stop by the drugstore with a nickel to buy a candy bar."

  "She looks really old," Nate said. "How old was she?"

  "A few years older than me," I answered.

  "She was forty-seven," Doc piped in. "The same age as Mike."

  I saw a tear slip down Doc's cheek. I knew that it was as much for his dead son as for the woman in the casket.

  "It's terrible that someone should lie waiting to die so long," Doc said.

  I agreed.

  Doc grabbed Nate's hand and squeezed it. "I don't want to die like that," he told him. "If I'm just a vegetable, you put me out of my misery. Do you understand me, Nate?"

  "Yes, Grandpa," he replied.

  "I can't ask Sam," he said. "He'd do it for me, but I already owe him too much. Can you do it, Nate?"

  "I can do it, Grandpa," he said with certainty.

  "It's hard to understand why some
body should have to live in a coma for so very long," I said.

  Doc nodded. "I guess she had to do it for Harlan," he said. "Her lying there, needing care—it's been the making of that boy."

  That was true. In his own way, Cherry Dale's older son had been as troubled as the younger one. Drinking too much, unable to settle down, he'd been jumping from one job to another, one relationship to another, since he got out of high school. Even with Cherry Dale handing him the Tulsa branch of Pepxercise, he'd hardly been able to make a go of it. He'd still been playing around, more interested in partying than making a profit.

  Her coma, and the care it required, forced Harlan to really knuckle down. Responsibility can sometimes break a strong man down. Sometimes it can drag a weak man to his feet. That's what happened with Harlan. He'd finally shown himself to have the same kind of work ethic and financial savvy as his mother. The business was expanding again. Harlan had wed one of his employees and Cherry Dale's first grandchild was due to arrive in the spring.

  Cherry Dale hadn't lived to see it, but somehow I was sure she knew.

  We were getting ready to leave when Delbert came in and Doc began asking questions about setting up a burial plan. The two went off to Mullen's office and Nate and I were left with the chilly room and the casket. We took seats on either end of the upholstered bench.

  Quite naturally, we talked about Cherry Dale, her boys and memories that we shared. At first, we stuck just to the happy ones. But eventually, the less pleasant came to mind as well.

  "She had a really hard life," Nate said.

  "Yeah, I guess she did."

  "I don't think she ever got over Rusty's death," he said.

  "No, of course she didn't," I agreed. "She blamed herself."

  He furrowed his brow, puzzled.

  "Why would she blame herself?"

  I sorted my thoughts in my head and chose my words carefully. This was Nate. Paw-Paw's Nate. I didn't want him dealing with anything more than he must.

  “Rusty thought that he'd killed Floyd," I said. “When you boys pulled him off Cherry Dale. He thought that the punch he threw was what killed him."