Body of Ash

by Bonnie Wheeler

  Tears spilled, soaking the cotton neckline of her shirt. Her breathing was fast, her pulse too quick, and her lips wouldn’t stop quivering. The sheer panic trembling through her caused her to wonder if she would ever feel normal again. Agony spread through her middle, but she forced it down inside. Never before did Katie believe it was possible to feel her heart break, but as she stood motionless, listening to her mother’s denial of any wrongdoing, Katie knew that was exactly what she felt.

  Too many years had passed waiting for her mother to come around, waiting for the drinking to stop – to be cherished. Even hoping if things got bad, Marge would ensure Katie’s wellbeing came first above all others. That was all Katie dreamed of – what she was asking for earlier when she begged her mother to put her first. Katie needed to believe Marge could be a good parent, but now she finally understood.

  No matter how much Katie loved Marge, it would never be enough. Marge couldn’t change. Her mother didn’t know how to love her back. No longer trying to hold it inside, Katie wept freely. It hurt knowing she’d have to live without her mother, but didn’t have a choice. She had nothing left inside to fight for.

  56

  RACHEL

  November 8th, Saturday 4:00 PM

  Holding tight to Jason’s hand, Rachel just nodded as each member of the congregation whispered their condolences. The receiving line spread out New Hope Bible Church’s doors and into the wet parking lot. If it was any longer, they would be there until midnight, shaking hands, accepting hugs, and thanking the attendees for coming.

  Her mother stood directly to her right. Dressed in a somber black pantsuit, Angela Jones was trying her best to make it through one of the worst weeks ever. Sylvia flanked her mother’s other side, the three women greeting the mourners who had come out in masses. Grandma and Grandpa Jones were expected to arrive in the morning. Flying up from Georgia, they were planning to be at the cemetery when their son was lowered into his final resting place. It was a reunion Rachel dreaded. Her southern relatives were practically strangers.

  It was such a cliché that it would rain on the day they had her father’s wake. But so weren’t the constant platitudes uttered in his memory. Despite the basic news reports in the paper about him being gunned down in Katie’s apartment, one after another, people from town told her how amazing her father was in their time of need. How Brian Jones would be regaled as a loved Christian leader and a martyr for the cause by trying to witness to a psycho like Marge Finch. Others boasted he was generous, trusting and kind. All Rachel could do was thank them.

  Even in death, her father maintained his spotless appearance.

  As hard as it was losing her father, Rachel couldn’t help but think about Katie.

  From what the police said, her old friend was there when Marge shot Rachel’s dad in the chest. Katie even called 911, begging for them to come and help. The detective explained that the teen did her best to stop her father’s bleeding, but one of the two bullets hit an artery before severing his spinal column. Even if Brian had survived he would have been paralyzed. Hearing the details was horrific. Her mother and grandmother had only given her a censored version of what went on, but it was bad enough.

  Poor Katie...

  Rachel cried when she found out. They all did. Only shortly after returning home from Torrington, police officers were at the door. Seeing the lights from the patrol cars as they pulled up, her mother said not to worry, that they probably wanted an update on Rachel’s whereabouts, but that wasn’t it. As soon as her mother opened the door, one of the uniformed men said there had been a shooting and Brian Jones was dead. As the next of kin, they needed Angela to come with them to make a positive ID. Angela turned then. Rachel literally saw her mother’s face blanch. That was when the tears began falling, mixed with waves of regret.

  Within a day, everyone in town found out. Most knew Brian died at Marge’s, although few heard the two had been hooking up. Since then, their house on Maple Avenue was like a train station. Visitors were coming and going at all hours. Sylvia made it a point to stay. Cleaning out the guest room, her otherwise bossy grandmother was uncharacteristically quiet.

  A slew of church wives descended upon them. Bringing casseroles and desserts, they kept the house immaculate and the phone answered. Their presence offered Rachel and Angela time to make the arrangements while grieving their loss. Elders also stepped in. They called a meeting and decided they would field any questions from the press. Brian Jones was an outstanding man and they didn’t want his untimely demise to reflect back on his work at the church in anyway.

  A part of Rachel knew that keeping the details quiet for the time being was best. Another part of her wished for the truth. Why couldn’t people would look at what happened and admit it was crazy instead of pretending he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Somehow, it was easier for everyone to believe the myth – to believe that her father was the moral God they all seemed bent on adoring.

  She had thought about calling Paul and Colette Becker, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. They were something pure and special in her life and she didn’t want the bond she forged with them tarnished by her father’s death. What would she say if she were to call?

  “Uh, hi. Remember me? I’m the one you prayed for. Well, guess what? After I left your church, I found out my Dad was shot dead after having a fight with his insane girlfriend.”

  No, she wouldn’t contact them right away – maybe next week, once her life was back on track. Rachel would ride down to Torrington so she could say hello. Maybe even get baptized into their church, but not until after her dad was buried and she had time to come to terms with what happened.

  It was difficult trying to lean on God when she felt unworthy of forgiveness. While praying for strength, she made sure to repent, but kept committing the same sins over and over. It was all of the pain around her. Worse than pain was anger. She was angry at her Dad for putting himself in a dangerous position, angry that he wasn’t out looking for her instead of getting drunk with Marge, and angry that his bad judgment left her and her mother alone.

  It hurt that there would never be a chance to start over, to build a life based on trust and acceptance. A divorce was hard enough to prepare for, she never considered him dying.

  In the last two hours, Rachel had seen the majority of people she knew. She hadn’t been back to school yet, but all of her teachers were thoughtful enough to show up. In clothing Rachel had seen them wear in the classroom, the men and women who assigned her calculus homework and research papers looked out of place. Shuffling past her in line, they offered condolences. Each letting her know that school work needn’t be a worry. They promised all of the time she needed to make up any tests she missed while grieving. As she thanked them, guilt pricked at her conscious for not having worried about it at all.

  Jason’s parents were kind. One of the first couples in line, Shannon and Carl Thompson both squeezed her tight and told her if she needed anything at all, day or night, they were there for her. Stuffing a wad of cash in her hand, they insisted she keep it to help with expenses. The sentiment was sweet and made her flush to her hairline. All she needed they had already given, acceptance and love. She found that with their son.

  Although concerned, Jason didn’t press Rachel to talk. Mostly he just sat with her and held her hand. The intimacy of his touch reminded her of their night together. Rachel hadn’t shared with anyone that the two had sex. Having cast aside her vow to save herself for marriage and go all the way, her mind still wrestled with what was right and wrong on a Christian level. Each time she tried to make sense out of the decision, she couldn’t find an answer. It was like missing school – she would have time to figure it all out later. When he held her close, she knew there was no one else that could make her feel safe. Taking comfort from his strength was all she wanted.

  Who is comforting Katie?

  Rachel remembered when Katie’s parents were going through a divorce. At the time, their friendship
was strained because Rachel was hanging with a new group of girls. Still, seeing Katie’s hurt was hard to bear witness to.

  As a kid, it’s always shocking to hear someone’s parents are splitting. It feels otherworldly and when your folks are still married, a part of you fears that if you look too deeply into the abyss of your friend’s agony, that it may just be contagious. After the split, Rachel never saw Mr. Finch at the school functions, but then again, Katie stopped attending them too. She didn’t know if the two were close anymore.

  If Marge was locked away somewhere, Rachel hoped Katie was being cared for. None of their past mattered now. Not the cliques they hung with or the snide remarks they both exchanged at one point or another. Katie’s mom may have pulled the trigger, but Rachel’s father did his part contributing to her breakdown.

  Even if the rest of the town refuses to admit it.

  Gazing at the row of Canaan’s finest filing in, Rachel wondered if any of them knew her father, because she sure didn’t. What was he thinking in his final moments? His wife? His parents?

  Me? Did Dad even think of me?

  Did Brian Jones close his eyes and wake up in Heaven? Although there were so many secrets coming out about her father, Rachel needed to hold on to that one hope. Her dad was baptized in his parent’s church as a teen and he knew the Bible. If what Paul and Colette had taught her was true, then her Dad would be forgiven. He was certainly a sinner, but all humans were. Only Jesus was sinless.

  Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Rachel didn’t want to cry again. It didn’t seem possible that she could shed so many tears for him. But it wasn’t his final days she wept for. There were countless memories of her father from when she was a child that always reminded her of how much she loved him.

  Like when Dad held me at the movie theater when we saw Monster House. I was scared Constance would come through the screen and eat us. Or I when I made him the Major League Dad t-shirt for Father’s Day when I was ten and he wore it over his dress shirt for the whole day.

  Her dad made mistakes, but Rachel would try to forgive him.

  At the end of her life, she wanted to believe there was a place in Heaven waiting for her. A place Christians would be forgiven for their sins. Where there was no such thing as lying or death or tears. Hopefully, her father would be there with open arms.

  57

  ANGELA

  Saturday 4:08 PM

  The wake was expected to last several hours. A guest book stood on a small table near the entrance. While some people stood in the receiving line, others huddled by the book, signing their names in bold, looping scroll – making it known they paid their respects. The exceptionally brave marched straight to the casket, skipping the obligatory visit to the family with words of sympathy.

  Now and again, Angela glanced into the sanctuary where a slide show of Brian illuminated the front wall. People hemmed and hawed at the lovely gesture, clucking that he looked so peaceful in his pressed suit. After a while, even the stone faced visitors gave in to tears, mourning the loss of their spiritual teacher. He was never going to teach them anything again. Brian was in that coffin and although it felt surreal, he was never coming out.

  Angela was proud of Rachel. Losing one’s father was hard. Ralph Bennett was old when his lung cancer shocked them all. Smoking was a nasty habit and Ralph maintained he was too sophisticated to ever touch the vile things. But the adenocarcinoma that ate up his right lung and planted tumors in his brain didn’t care. Her father only survived nine months after the diagnosis. Angela grieved, just like she knew Rachel would for Brian. The difficult part was missing the chance to say goodbye. At least when Ralph passed, Angela had opportunities alone with him to say she was sorry, that his absence would be felt.

  I didn’t get to with Perry.

  When death comes quick, the chance for making peace with a loved one is stolen. Rachel would never get that chance with her father. She wouldn’t be able to tell him what she had been longing to say. Her freedom, her independence, all she had been holding inside that they refused to see. Brian would miss it all. There would be no serene memory of the two finally bonding. Instead, Rachel’s last words to him were muffled cries.

  You always had to have the last word Brian. Even in death, nothing changes.

  Despite the teen’s grief, her daughter remained at her side, thanking visitors for their flowers, cards, and donations to the American Cancer Society. Jason stayed nearby. She noticed that Rachel never wandered far without the boy’s worried eyes following her, trying to anticipate her needs. It was a shame she hadn’t gotten to know Jason and his folks earlier in the teens’ relationship. The family was a source of support for Rachel. Maybe Angela and Brian could have been better prepared in how important they all were to their daughter.

  Perhaps, Brian would have thought twice about sending her away.

  It was hard to let go. There were so many moments when Angela thought if she could have only been more forceful, then maybe he wouldn’t have ended up with a woman like Marge. Maybe if she told him to go to bed instead of demanding he hunt for their daughter, he would still be alive. But, in the end, she would never know the truth. Her husband was dead and she had to stop asking herself what she could have done to stop the train wreck. The answer would always be hidden. She wasn’t meant to know.

  The death of their marriage lent its own grief. Just because he died didn’t suddenly create an alternative reality where he was the perfect husband, forever missed. But, after eighteen years, she knew him enough to know he deserved a better outcome in life. Intoxicated and high on Xanax, Brian’s final moments were spent bleeding and naked in a rundown apartment.

  He could have been so much more…

  With his charm and charisma, he could have easily led one of those mega churches in Texas, either that or be the next Pat Roberts and host his own televangelist show. It was a shame that he never applied himself while he had the chance. Or worse, didn’t accept or return the love of his wife and only daughter.

  Instead he chose to turn to that despicable woman. No education, no self-respect, Marge was no better than the dirt she walked on. It wasn’t enough that Brian wanted to sleep with her the night he should have been searching for Rachel – the callous whore had to take him away forever.

  You stupid, stupid man. Why didn’t you see what you had?

  It was hard deciding how much she should tell Rachel. The nature of Brian’s death wasn’t easy to verbalize let alone explain in conversation to their daughter. He wasn’t at the Finch home for a Bible study. Angela refused to paint him as a saint, even if doing so made life easier to pretend. Rachel knew her father was involved with Marge. At least Angela didn’t have to break that news first.

  That night on the sidewalk outside of the Church of Christ, Rachel insisted she would stand by Angela’s side if she decided to pursue a divorce. The sentiment meant everything at the time, making her thankful Rachel was old enough to see her parents had frailties. Knowing she was able to carry through with that support with her father’s death made Angela grateful. Still, she wished she could shield her daughter from some of the details.

  The next person in line grabbed Sylvia in an embrace. Her mother’s rigid body language was tense, like standing two inches from a cobra, curled and ready to strike. Out of the corner of her eye, Angela wondered if Sylvia would crack, and tell the gentleman to back off. But after the past week of being surrounded by strangers, even Sylvia made a point to accept the condolences of New Hope’s church family. Hugs and all.

  Moving on to Angela, Martin McNally didn’t waver as he enfolded her into his arms. “Angela,” he said, “I’m so very sorry.” Wearing his custom cowboy hat with a black denim dress shirt and onyx bolo, the fifty-year-old smelled of his familiar Old Spice aftershave.

  “Thank you Martin.”

  Leaning close, he breathed, “You should know, the elders and I have discussed it and we want to continue financial support to you and Rachel for as long as you ne
ed it. Brian was charitable with his time and meeting the needs of the church. Often that included advising some of us in ways we could conquer our sin without hurting our families. We’ll never forget that, which is why we would like to help meet your needs now that he is gone.”

  That is an odd thing to say.

  Martin touched her arm, continuing to detail how the church still needed Angela to guide the committees she oversaw. Angela found it hard to focus on his words. She knew what he was trying to convey. They still considered her the pastor’s wife and although it wasn’t exactly a position, it required a time commitment and respect. The elders wanted her to maintain that role now that Brian was gone.

  “After all,” Martin said, concluding his thoughts, “it will take quite a while to find a reverend qualified to fill Brian’s shoes and the one we do select, may be single and need your experience with how the church runs.”

  Martin stepped back studying her expression for signs she understood. Angela knew his words were spoken with kindness. If there was one thing she could say about New Hope, the congregation had a few members that were genuinely good people. Martin McNally was one of them.