by Sharon Sala
One of the classrooms in the church had been set aside for the family, and Gracie was pacing the floor, dreading the moment the others would arrive, when all of a sudden the door opened, and a fiery redhead in a blue dress came sailing in with her purse strap on her shoulder and the heels of her shoes clacking rhythmically on the old wooden floors.
"I thought you might need backup," Darlene said.
Gracie sighed. "I am seriously glad to see you."
Darlene eyed the black dress, and for the first time, saw the scars she'd felt last night, then looked away.
"You look stunning," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you, honey? Do you need some water? I have stuff for headaches and plenty of tissues. I come prepared."
Gracie smiled and hugged her. "There's already ice water over on that table. Your presence is enough."
"Do you need me out at the ranch afterward?" Darlene asked.
Gracie shook her head. "No. It won't take long to speak my piece, and then I'll be gone."
"Okay, then," Darlene said. "Just making sure." She glanced up at the clock. "It's after 9:30. They should be arriving soon. Just so you know, there will be no arguing between James and me today. In fact, I intend to do my best to ignore him. This day is for Mama D and you."
And then the door opened, and both women turned.
"Speak of the devil," Darlene mumbled, as James walked in followed by the rest of the family.
Gracie lifted her chin. Their shock in seeing Darlene standing beside her was obvious, and then they were looking at her as if she was a stranger.
She didn't move—didn't speak—and stared each of them down until they all had the grace to look away.
Daphne felt the chill, but she was so shocked by Gracie's appearance that she froze. The tall, thin woman in black, with her long dark hair hanging loose around her face was a female version of their father. And the fact that Darlene was here had undertones of something more. Apparently, their ex-sister-in-law had not abandoned Gracie.
Now she really felt like shit.
Mamie couldn't quit staring. She leaned against Joel, as if she were about to be attacked, and when she realized Gracie was staring at her, she burst into tears.
Gracie rolled her eyes, her focus shifting to James.
James started toward her, his mouth already open, when Gracie held up her hand.
"Save it. You do not get the luxury of unburdening yourself here. We will talk at home afterward and not a moment before. Say what you will to the people you talk to today but understand this. They all know more about Mama and me than you do, so be careful of what you say. You don't want to come off looking like a fool."
Joel blinked.
James gasped.
Mamie's tears miraculously dried.
And Daphne was about to throw up.
Gracie remembered Daphne's penchant for puking, saw the tell-tale white ring around her lips, and pointed, her voice as cold as the look in her eyes.
"Suck it up, sister. You're nearly fifty, for God's sake. Get a drink of water and sit down, but you do not throw up. Mamie always tattled. You always had to puke. And James never stopped talking. But not today, you don't. Not any of you. Not today."
Too shocked to argue, they sat. James got Daphne a glass of water, and Mamie stared at the floor.
Darlene stifled a grin. Gracie was going to be fine.
And then Brother Harp walked in.
"Ah, all of the siblings are together again. I would like to have a moment of prayer before the—"
"Save it for Mama," Gracie said.
Brother Harp was beginning to tune in to the stricken looks on their faces. Something was afoot, but it was obviously not his place to interfere.
"As you wish," he said. "They'll be coming to get the family in minute or so. It's time for the service to begin. There will be food served here for friends and family after you return from the cemetery."
As the preacher walked out, Willis Decker walked in. He nodded to the others but went straight to Gracie.
"It's time. I'll escort you down the aisle to the front pew, where you will all be seated. Your mama's pallbearers are seated on your left. The family will be on the right side. Are you ready, Gracie, or do you need a minute?"
"I'm ready," Gracie said, and reached for Darlene. "This is my sister-in-law, Darlene Dunham. She will be seated beside me, and please seat the women next to her."
Willis nodded. "As you wish. If you'll all follow me," he said, and offered Gracie his arm.
She slipped her hand beneath his elbow, then looked back to make sure Darlene was right behind them.
Darlene winked, and they filed out of the room.
Gracie strode past her brother and sisters with her chin up, and that's when they saw the scars.
She heard them gasp. She heard a few murmurs, and then Darlene's voice.
"Shush it!" she hissed, and they did.
As they neared the sanctuary, Gracie could hear the low murmurs of conversation from the people sitting in the congregation, waiting for the ceremony to start.
Her eyes welled.
Help me through this, Lord.
Willis Decker paused at the doorway.
The pianist struck a chord, and then the congregation stood. As they started down the aisle toward the front of the church, everything hit Gracie at once.
Sunlight coming through the stained-glass windows had painted rainbows across the white pearl casket.
The people standing as Gracie passed, murmuring...
"Love you, Gracie... God Bless you, Gracie... Praying for you, Gracie..."
The lump in her throat was swelling to the point that she was either going to choke or cry to relieve the pain. She was grateful when they finally reached the family pew.
She sank down at the end nearest the aisle and felt comfort from Darlene's presence as she slid into the seat beside her.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ramona Harp standing in the wings, her gaze sweeping the room before her. Likely making mental notes as to who was here and who was absent, Gracie thought.
After that, came Daphne, then Mamie, then Joel, leaving James at the other end of the pew on his own. It was Alpha and Omega. The oldest child at one end. The youngest at the other.
It wasn't until everyone was seated and the service began that Gracie looked up at the casket again, and then at all the flowers. It was a grand sight to see the love being shown to Delia, but the scent of all those hothouse flowers, that had been in the viewing room with Mama, was starting to turn. The water in the cut flowers was going bad. The flowers in the vases were on the verge of wilt. They were at the end of their time, too, and it was all a little sickening.
Brother Harp was saying a prayer.
Mamie was crying, and now so was Daphne.
Gracie's sympathy for them was nil, and she ignored them.
When he finished, someone began singing one of Mama's chosen songs, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot."
Everything about this day was becoming surreal. But the moments in between the beginning and the end of the service were the memories Gracie would carry with her for the rest of her life—like the laughter rolling out across the congregation now as Brother Harp began reading Delia's personal, hand-written eulogy.
It's me, Delia, and if you're hearing this, I must finally be dead. Knowing how hard-headed I was, I probably outstayed my welcome. But going crazy isn't easy, and I expect my darling Gracie will attest to this.
I am not going to remark upon the dates of my birth and death because they're likely on that program you're holding, along with where I was born, my mother and father's name, and everything some genealogist might need to know to track down the people with whom you share DNA. If one of them is me, God help you. You're gonna need it.
Yes, I meant to be buried in my wedding dress. Part of that is vanity that it still fit, and part of it is the tightwad in me wanting to get a second wearing.
The laughter that rolled across the congre
gation filled Gracie's heart. It was medicine for the brokenness within her and made her laugh with them.
And then Brother Harp continued.
I will mention my children's names, because it hurt like the dickens giving birth to them, which, now that I read this, sounds like I'm tooting my own horn by having the guts to repeat that process four times.
Again, the titter of laughter and chuckles uplifted the mood, but they quickly quieted, anxious to hear more of Delia's story.
Thomas James is my eldest and only son. Daphne May, my oldest daughter. Mamie Leigh, my third child, and then my baby, Gracie Jean. I did not know it at the time, but Gracie Jean was aptly named, because she became my saving grace. I have a wonderful daughter-in-law named Darlene, and two grandchildren, Caleb and Joanie, who all survive me. At least I hope to God this turns out to be true, because if there is even one of you waiting for me upon my arrival, I'll be having a talk with the Good Lord for cutting any of those beautiful lives short.
I need you all to know that I am not sad to leave. I hope I have not destroyed my youngest child, but as I sit here writing this, I already know the diagnosis I have been given, and I fear for her path with me.
It says in the Bible, to honor thy father and mother, and Gracie did just that. She stepped up, sacrificing every plan she had for her own future, just to take care of me. I have no knowledge of what will transpire between us after I write this, but if I know my girl, she stood by me to the end. I have faith that all my children helped and stood by her, too, and I thank them.
Gracie had never read the eulogy, because it had been in a sealed envelope, but it was obvious Mama's words had struck at the heart of her siblings. She could hear all of them crying. Guilt was as painful as a slap to the face.
Brother Harp cleared his throat. Gracie guessed he was obviously remembering his own lack of attention to their plight.
Whatever.
And then Brother Harp kept on reading.
What I want all of you to know is how much I loved living among you. How dear your friendship was to me. How much your love meant to me when my Tommy was killed.
But don't you dare sit there and cry for me now because I'm with Tommy again.
Sing your songs for me today. Bury me deep enough that this West Texas wind does not uncover my grave. Eat some barbecue and baked ham for me. I'm going to miss deviled eggs. But that's your world, not mine.
Don't waste a minute of life because it's short. Just know that love is forever, and Tommy and I send ours.
Brother Harp sat down as a trio from the choir began singing yet another of Delia's chosen songs—this time, "Amazing Grace."
Gracie had heard the story all her life of being named for this song, except Mama hadn't actually named her Grace. She'd named her Gracie because Mama said she could tell by the look in my eyes when she first saw my face, that I was going to be a pistol, and that being burdened with a dignified name might become an issue.
Delia's song choices were comforting to Gracie, and because her mama had chosen them, they felt like messages she wanted to leave behind.
Gracie sighed. She was crying and didn't even know it until Darlene slipped her a handful of tissues to wipe her eyes.
And then the song was over, and Brother Harp moved back to the pulpit to speak to the congregation.
"At this point in every funeral I have ever preached, this would be my time to deliver a spiritual message to all of you...a kind of reassurance for the grieving. But Miss Delia requested this be the end. And I will read to you what she said."
Brother Harp, I know you always preach a little sermon at funerals, but I'd just as soon you did not at mine. The way I figure it, the ones needing saving aren't gonna hear the call on the day I'm being buried because they're thinking about pie and ham. And the others present who’re already saved are probably needing a potty break.
The congregation roared.
Gracie grinned and shook her head. It was like hearing her mama's voice again—before all her good senses had abandoned her.
Brother Harp smiled, and then added. "I am to remind you, the burial will be at the Sweetwater Cemetery, and you are all invited back to the church for dinner afterward."
At that point, Willis Decker and his team began Delia Dunham's last reveal. They opened the top half of the casket, re-settled the casket spray back in place, and when they were satisfied that Delia was looking her deathly best, they stepped aside. The people seated in the back were the first to pass the casket, and then one by one, the sanctuary began to empty as people came down the aisle.
As was tradition in this part of the world, some paused by Gracie and her siblings to give personal messages, or their sympathies, before moving past the open casket—a simple gesture of paying their last respects to one of their own.
Gracie nodded, shook hands, accepted pats on the back, and the occasional hug. She said thank you in all the right places, but she was fading. This overload of sympathy made her ache in every bone. What she wouldn't give for a drink of cold Coke.
The lines seemed endless, and then finally the only people left within the sanctuary with the Dunham family were the Harps and the employees from the funeral home. This was it. The family's last chance to see their loved one's face.
One by one, her siblings stood, then gathered around the casket, holding onto each other in grief, and still Gracie sat.
"Honey?" Darlene whispered.
"I'll be along," Gracie said. "You go."
And when Darlene walked to the casket, the siblings parted for her arrival, then stood a distance behind her, as if in fear she might turn and decimate them for their sins.
Finally, Gracie stood, gripping the wad of tissues like a lifeline, and headed straight for Delia.
A peace enveloped her as she looked down into her mother's face, and then she laid a hand on her arm.
"We did it, Mama. You nearly killed me doing it, and I lost you twice, but I got you safe to Daddy. I won't say it was easy, but it was my blessing to have done this for you. You taught me two things in the past nine years that I will never forget. To never take life for granted, and to find strength within myself that I didn't know was there. I love you."
She pulled a pink carnation from the casket spray and tucked it in her mother's hands, and when she turned around, Willis Decker was there with the pallbearers.
They rolled the pearl casket out of the church and into a hearse, then ushered the family into a limousine for the ride out to the cemetery.
Still gripping the tissues, Gracie leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, leaving Darlene to stare the others down.
They'd all heard what Gracie said at the casket. Now they were looking at those scars on her with new horror. Surely to God their own mother had not done that? Surely!
"I feel sick," Daphne mumbled.
"Save it for the cemetery," Darlene said.
Mamie had gone fetal. She hadn't let go of Joel since they'd entered the sanctuary, and now, sitting within the confines of the same vehicle, she felt Gracie's rage as if it were a living, breathing fire. She looked up at Joel with tear-filled eyes, silently begging him for forgiveness she didn't deserve.
James was struggling with the shame of what he'd ignored and denied, and what he'd left undone. Being this close to Darlene, after all these years, just made it worse.
The hardest part was hearing Brother Harp reading their mother's words, and her assumption that they had all stood by her and Gracie. He didn't know how their lives would play out from this day forward, but in his mind, he was forever branded as a traitor—forever changed because of shame.
The service at the cemetery was poignantly brief. Later, the cemetery workers would lower Delia's casket into the ground beside Tommy, but for now, it rested in quiet splendor, surrounded by flowers and sunlight, and the mourners who'd traveled with her to see her off.
The wind had laid, leaving them all sitting and standing in the torpid heat. Makeup was melting. Sweat was
in abundance as Brother Harp read the Twenty-Third Psalm, then said a prayer, and it was over.
This time, when people came by to pay their respects to the family, the conversation was normal, and memories were briefly shared. It was very apparent to Delia Dunham's children that they were not the only ones who had been blessed by their mother's time on this earth.
Darlene was getting nervous. Gracie was too quiet and too pale. She rounded up the limo driver and herded Gracie inside where it was cool, which sent others to do the same.
They drove back to the church for dinner, and the moment they were inside, Darlene took Gracie to the ladies room.
"Go pee. Then come wash your face and hands and cool off. You look like you're going to pass out."
The ladies room only had four stalls, but Gracie was quickly ushered into the next empty one.
When she came out, Darlene had a wet paper towel waiting, and slapped it on the back of Gracie's neck like she was swatting at a fly.
"Don't pass out on me, girl," she said.
"I won't," Gracie said, and then stood at the sink sluicing her face with cool water until the feeling of nausea had passed.
"Lord have mercy, girl. You just washed off every bit of makeup you were wearing and still look like a million bucks," Darlene said.
The women who overheard them laughed, agreeing.
Gracie looked back at herself, then shrugged.
"All I see is Daddy looking back at me."
Daphne was in a stall puking, and Mamie was trying to repair the makeup on her face as Darlene took Gracie down to the dining room, seated her at a table, then headed to the kitchen where the church ladies were waiting to serve the meal.
"She needs to eat something. Now," Darlene said, as she grabbed a glass of iced tea and pointed to where Gracie was sitting.
One woman grabbed a dinner roll, tore it in half, and slapped a piece of ham between the bread, wrapped it in a paper napkin, then handed it to Darlene.
"Let her start with this and the cold drink. She can get a proper plate later."
