Night of Miracles

by Elizabeth Berg

  When he washes his hands, Jason sees himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look much better than his wife does, really. He’s got to get it together, for Lincoln and for Abby. In the morning, when the doctors make rounds, he’ll press them to tell him what he should be thinking about, planning for. What should he tell his son? He can’t keep telling Link they don’t know, they don’t know.

  When he comes out of the bathroom, the nurse is back behind the desk on the phone, and Lincoln is standing with one foot in Abby’s room, one foot in the hall. “Dad! Hurry up!”

  He runs into the room. Abby is turned onto her side and is now facing them.

  Her eyes are open, blinking, as though she is focusing, and then she smiles. “Jason.”

  Jason pulls Link to him and bends to speak into the boy’s ear. “Can you go and get the nurse?”

  “What time is it?” Abby asks.

  Jason walks over to her and puts his hands on either side of her face. He touches his forehead to hers. The fever she had is gone; her skin is cool. Her eyes are bright. She’s here.

  “Are you okay?” Abby asks.

  He laughs. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “Where’s Lincoln?”

  “Just out in the hall. He’ll be right back.”

  “Have I been sleeping long?”

  “Um…couple of days?”

  “Oh, my goodness, you must have been so bored!”

  “No, we weren’t bored.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He kisses her hand. “Don’t be sorry.”

  “Jason, the strangest thing just happened. A woman was beside my bed, kind of a big woman. And she leaned down and embraced me and then I…I don’t know, I woke up.”

  “Was it Laurie?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “The nurse? She’s really been pulling for you.”

  “No, it wasn’t a nurse. I don’t know who it was.”

  Abby’s doctor comes in then and goes to her bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry!” she says, and laughs.

  “Looks like that treatment worked,” he says. “You should feel even better in the morning. We’re going to get you home, Abby.”

  News

  IRIS AWAKENS LATER THAN USUAL. She’s going to be tardy, as Lucille will say. She tries calling to let her know, but there is no answer. She’s probably in the bathroom; Iris will make coffee and call again.

  No answer.

  Something is wrong.

  Iris dresses quickly, gets in the car, and drives over. She parks way too far from the curb, and goes up to the front door. Knocks, rings the bell. Does it again. Nothing. She lets herself in, calls Lucille’s name a few times, and ventures upstairs.

  She finds her in the bathtub, a pink washrag gripped in her hand, her face a color that leaves little doubt what has happened. Nonetheless Iris shouts “Lucille!,” drops to her knees, and pulls the woman close to her. She checks her wrist for a pulse, then presses in at the side of her neck. No.

  She holds Lucille close, weeping. After a while, she calls 911, then drains the tub, covers Lucille with a towel, and calls Tiny, to help her do whatever else needs to be done.

  Tiny is asleep in Monica’s bed, and he starts when his phone rings. His ringtone is “When a Man Loves a Woman,” and he had put it on his phone thinking of Monica. And now there she is beside him, her long black hair spread out on the pillow like a Vargas girl. She stirs when she hears him whisper, “Best Taxi,” and then, “Oh, no.”

  “What happened?” Monica asks, and Tiny holds up a finger.

  “Are you there with her right now?”

  He listens, wipes at his eyes, and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. I’m on the way.”

  He hangs up, and says, “That was Iris. Lucille Howard died. I’ve got to go over and help her. She found her in the bathtub.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Monica says. “I can…I’ll make breakfast for everyone.”

  They drive together to Lucille’s house, silent, holding hands. One life ends, another begins, is what Tiny is thinking, and by “another life” he is thinking of his and Monica’s life together. He hopes it isn’t wrong to feel that way, to want to keep happiness alive even while you admit sorrow. But when he looks over at Monica, he thinks maybe she is thinking that, too, so he feels a little better.

  * * *

  —

  WHEN MADDY’S PHONE RINGS later that day, she’s playing Candy Land with Nola after lunch, and she is very glad for the interruption; she hates Candy Land, though she does her best to disguise it. But then, after she hangs up, she comes into the kitchen and Nola says, “Mommy?” and Maddy bursts into tears.

  She pulls her daughter onto her lap. “Nola, sweetheart? I have some sad news. Grandma Lucille died last night.”

  The little girl looks up into Maddy’s face. “Is she in heaven?”

  Whatever heaven is, Maddy thinks, but she tells her daughter, “I think so. Yes.”

  She holds Nola for a while, and then she calls Matthew. After that, she tells Nola, “We need to pack.”

  “I made a new drawing for her,” Nola says, her eyes full of tears, and Maddy guesses the news is beginning to sink in.

  “I think she’d want it on her wall,” Maddy says. “We’ll put it there.”

  A Message

  MADDY STANDS, SHIVERING, AT LUCILLE’S newly dug gravesite. She knows she should leave, she’s been standing here a good twenty minutes. Off to the side, two men in a small white truck wait patiently to lower the casket, then cover it with the mound of earth that now lies beneath a plastic tarp—like an elephant trying to hide behind a telephone pole, Maddy thinks. But something hasn’t happened yet that she’s waiting for, she’s not even sure what. She gives the men a little wave, I’m almost done, and they wave back, Take your time.

  In the car, Matthew and Nola are also waiting for her. Matthew is playing card games with Nola; he carries a kid-size deck for times when they must wait for things. Maddy is so grateful for the close relationship he’s formed with Nola. When Nola is cold, Matthew enfolds her in his coat. When she’s testy, he’s the one who can best humor her out of it. When they go to movies, she sits on Matthew’s lap. Any fears Maddy had that having a daughter would make it difficult to have a relationship with someone have long since faded: from the beginning, Matthew made it clear that for him, Nola was a bonus.

  Iris has gone back to Lucille’s house to prepare for anyone who might want to stop by. Maddy suspects there won’t be many people who come; only a few people came to the church service: Maddy, Matthew, and Nola; Iris; Jason and Lincoln from next door; Tiny Dawson and Monica Mayhew.

  Maddy had heard a lot about Iris from Lucille, and had looked forward to meeting her at the happy occasion of her and Matthew’s wedding. Which now…Well, what? What should she do now? It doesn’t make much sense for her to have the wedding here, now. No cake by Lucille. No attendance by Lucille. Or Arthur. How happy Arthur would have been for her!

  She walks over a few rows to Arthur’s grave—Arthur Moses, though she called him Truluv, her affectionate nickname for a man who never stopped loving his wife. Or the world. There he is, some part of him, anyway. More present is the memory of him that Maddy keeps alive in her heart. No one ever did more for her than Arthur Truluv did, and all because of an accidental meeting that happened here, in the oddest of places. And what happened here is what started her off in a new direction. Marrying Matthew and moving to New York is another direction, and she thinks Arthur would be thrilled for her. Lucille, too—eventually. Lucille was firmly fixed in her ideas about the city being a terrible place; Maddy was just as firmly fixed in her own ideas that a little time in the right places would change Lucille’s mind. But. There are plans, and the
n there is life. She had planned to be married in Lucille’s house this spring, to feast on what would have been a spectacular cake, and to bring her wedding bouquet to lay on Arthur’s grave. She stares at his name on the marker and hears again his voice, sees his face. And suddenly she knows what she was waiting for.

  She waves once more to the men in the truck, then goes to the car.

  “I won six times,” Nola tells her, and climbs over the front seat to get into her booster seat.

  Matthew looks over at Maddy. “Ready?” he asks quietly.

  “Yes. All buckled in, Nola?”

  The little girl nods, and stares out the window. “Those men are putting dirt on Grandma Lucille.”

  “Yes,” Maddy says. She’s not quite sure what to say. She tries, “Now Grandma will be all cozy and tucked away.”

  Nola seems to buy it, for she says, “And we can visit her whenever we want.”

  “That’s right.” Maddy tightens her coat collar around her neck. To Matthew, she says, “Let’s go and see if anyone came back to the house. And then I want to talk to you about something.”

  When they turn the corner onto Lucille’s street, they are surprised to find that parked cars line both sides of the street. Once they get into the house, Maddy has to push through a crowd to find Iris.

  “Who are all these people?” she asks.

  “Students,” Iris says. “I think anyone who ever took a class has come. Did you see the dining room table?”

  Maddy shakes her head no.

  “Go and look,” Iris says. “I’ve got to start another pot of coffee.”

  Maddy goes into the dining room, where Matthew and Nola have already gone. There is no room for anything else on the expanded table: the entire surface is covered with beautiful baked goods. Maddy recognizes Lucille’s orange cake, her cinnamon rolls, her mile-high apple pie. Cookies, bars, tea breads, coffee cakes, cobblers. A thirtysomething woman Maddy doesn’t recognize calls her name, and Maddy walks over. The woman is wearing a black dress, over which is an apron. And now that Maddy looks again, she sees aprons everywhere. They are Lucille’s aprons: Maddy sees the lace apron, the ruffled apron, gingham aprons, organza “company” aprons, the apron with embroidered bluebirds, the one with floating rolling pins, several in pastel colors with wide rickrack. This woman is wearing the Paris apron with the French poodles.

  She introduces herself to Maddy. “I’m Gwen Johnson. I took three of Lucille’s classes, and it changed my life. Really! My whole approach to cooking and eating changed because of her. She practically saved my family life—we were all drifting apart and didn’t really know it. I got into cooking because of Lucille, and my husband and our kids and I began eating together far more often, and what a difference! When I read in the paper that Lucille had died, I thought it would be a nice tribute if a bunch of us who took her classes got together to bring over something that she taught us to make.”

  “She would have been so honored,” Maddy says.

  “And she would have called out every mistake!” Gwen says, laughing. “But you know, you learned pretty fast not to be offended by Lucille. Because at heart…”

  Maddy smiles. “Yes.” And then, to Nola, who is doing an admirable job of stacking treats high on her plate, “Nola! That’s enough!”

  Nola stands still, regarding her mother from the corner of her eyes, which means she’s debating whether or not to obey her. “Only two more?” she asks.

  Oh, why not. Nothing like a funeral to loosen the rules. “All right,” Maddy says. “Go ahead.”

  And then, meeting Matthew’s eyes, she gestures for him to come with her out of the room. She’ll tell him her idea in private, and see what he thinks.

  Onward

  “WHAT’S GOING ON NEXT DOOR?” Abby asks, as she comes into the kitchen. She’s looking out the window into Lucille’s kitchen, where many people are moving about.

  “It’s a lunch for Lucille,” Jason says.

  Abby comes to sit at the table. She’s still weak, and she certainly seems to need a lot of sleep, but she’s got her appetite back. On the table is a platter of cinnamon rolls with thick white icing. Abby smiles. “Really?”

  Jason nods. “Once a month, okay?”

  “Once a week,” she says, after taking a bite. She looks out the window again. “I’m surprised they didn’t invite us.”

  “They did.”

  Abby stops chewing.

  “I thought it might be too much for you,” Jason says. “And I was afraid of upsetting Link.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “No.”

  “Link!” Abby calls.

  A faint “Yeah?”

  “Can you come downstairs?”

  Link comes downstairs and over to the table. “What’s up?”

  “Would you like to go next door to the lunch they’re having for Lucille?”

  He nods. “I made a card for her. I mean, you know, in her honor.”

  “May I see it?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get it.”

  He goes back upstairs and Abby looks at Jason.

  “You were right,” he says. “He wants to go.”

  “And I do, too.” She takes Jason’s hand. “We’ve been talking a lot, Link and I. You know?”

  He overheard them once. Abby was saying that all her illness had done was to make her love Link and Daddy more. And appreciate everything more. And to understand, in a way she never had before, that death was a natural part of life, just like the seasons in nature. And everybody’s job was to love life while you had it and never to take anything for granted. It was hard to remember to do that, but it was worth it to try. It was quiet, and then Link said, “Mom. Look. There’s a cardinal right outside the window.”

  “I see him, sweetheart,” Abby said. “Shall we watch him for a while?”

  When Link comes back to the table, he shows them the card. On the front, he has drawn a cuckoo clock, the little door open, the bird’s announcement being made and made. Inside, he has written, Thanks for everything. With love from your friend, Link.

  “This is very nice,” Abby says. “Let me get dressed and we’ll all go over together.”

  She looks over at Jason, who smiles. Okay, then. Onward.

  An Odd Request

  ON MONDAY MORNING, TERESA MCDOUGAL, Mason’s town clerk, receives a call that gives her pause. It’s enough of a pause that the caller finally says, “Hello? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” she says. “I just…Well, I’ve never had a request like that. I’m going to have to ask the cemetery committee. Give me your number, and I’ll call you back.”

  She writes down the number, hangs up the phone, and then stares into space for a moment. Here’s tonight’s topic of conversation at the dinner table, that’s for sure!

  She pushes back from her desk, leaving a newly poured cup of coffee in favor of a more interesting proposition. Bud Nelson, who is an alderman on the cemetery committee, is in his office.

  “Hey, Bud,” Teresa says, knocking on his doorframe, “have you got a minute?”

  “Just about a minute. I forgot something I need for our meeting tonight and then I’ve got to get to work.” He tightens his skinny tie: Bud hasn’t changed his style of ties in more than fifty years. Or his style of glasses. He always says what’s out will come back in again, and why should he waste the money. And he’s right. Everything once dorky can become coolly ironic. To Teresa, Bud looks like that musician Elvis Costello.

  “I just got a call,” Teresa says. “Do we allow people to get married in cemeteries?”

  Bud stares at her. “Come again?”

  “I just got a call from a young lady who wants to get married in the cemetery.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “She says it’s an important place for her. She w
ants to get married on that little hill by the pond, where the willow tree is, you know the spot?”

  “Sure I do. It’s a nice spot. For reflection. For contemplation. But not for a wedding, for Pete’s sake!”

  “She says it will be very small, just her, the groom, her father, her daughter, and two witnesses. They’ll be in and out. No muss, no fuss. She just wants to stand on that hill and get married. I mean, it’s odd, but do you think it will hurt anything?”

  “Well, I don’t know. That’s the question, isn’t it? Let me ask the committee. I would think someone would need to be there, to supervise.”

  Teresa raised her hand. “I will. I’m curious!”

  Bud nods. “Tell you what, if the committee agrees, I’ll go with you. I’m curious myself.”

  * * *

  —

  THE NEXT MORNING, TERESA gets a call from Bud, who says, “All right, we made a decision. We’ll meet with the couple, and if they’re not…well, if they’re not wisenheimers or some such thing, we’ll let them do it. But that’s it. One time. We can’t be opening the floodgates for people to do what-all in what is, after all, a sacred space.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad,” Teresa says. She is. And she is hard-pressed to say why. Something in that young woman’s voice.

  My goodness. Maybe she’ll bring her Albert along. When she told him about the request last night, he was full of questions she couldn’t answer. All she knew was that the caller, whose name was Maddy Harris, was someone who’d known Arthur Moses, the former groundskeeper for the parks. He was just the kindest man, and he used to carry butterscotch candies in his pocket to give to little kids. Although Teresa was known to have one of those candies every now and then herself.