Hope Springs

by Lynne Hinton

  Louise made a funny noise, like a grunt.

  “I just thought it was because Dick wore the same tie every night.”

  Jessie got up to get more coffee for everyone. “Beatrice, you cannot sit there and tell me you thought it was all right to touch another man’s butt in public! I know you are not that naive.”

  She walked into the kitchen, then returned to the room.

  Beatrice smiled and put the box of pictures down by her chair. She took a little more coffee from Jessie. “Oh, all right,” she confessed, “I was a little nervous when I did it. But I did get a hundred dollars from Dick.” She said this proudly. “And that counts for a lot because that man doesn’t part with his money all that easy.”

  Louise handed the next album to Jessie. She hadn’t even seen the pictures. She turned her attention to her friend sitting next to her. “So what’s going on with you and the old man?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Jessie replied. She was flipping through the pictures from the second day of the cruise, and she was glad that Beatrice had quit passing more albums.

  “I mean, why is he fixing up his car? He isn’t leaving again, is he?”

  Margaret shifted so that she could see out the kitchen window into the backyard. James was standing on a crate, bending over the engine.

  Jessie ate the rest of her cake. “He’s got a leak,” she replied hesitantly, “somewhere in the oil line.”

  No one said anything, and the room was quiet except for the clinking of forks on plates, cups on saucers. Louise simply stared at Jessie while she finished her dessert.

  “What, Louise?” She pulled her body around so that she was facing the woman sitting next to her on the couch.

  “I’m asking you what,” Louise said.

  The other women were silent.

  Jessie took in a breath and held up the thermos with the coffee in it. It was a question if anyone wanted more. Everyone shook their heads. She poured herself another cup and stirred in the milk. Then she sat down on the sofa and began.

  “James isn’t sure he wants to stay here.” She said this calmly, as if it were a weather report or the mention of some known event.

  The women glanced around at each other, surprised at the comment, stunned at the news. James and Jessie had been together again now for a number of months, ever since their grandson’s wedding. They, like everyone else in the community and the family, thought he was staying for good, thought he had come home, landed safely back in the cradle of his heart.

  “What do you mean he doesn’t want to stay here?” Louise was angry. She had sat up on the edge of her seat.

  “He’s bored. I don’t know. He said he was tired of the city, that he wanted to be back here, in the country, with me. But I don’t know; he’s just restless.” Jessie stopped.

  Margaret dropped her head. She knew what this meant for Jessie.

  “This place…” She stopped again. “It’s just got a lot of bad memories for him.”

  Jessie got up, stacked up everyone’s plates, and walked with them into the kitchen. Still no one spoke.

  “So, take a trip,” Beatrice offered. “It’s amazing what a nice vacation can do for your frame of mind. You can take a cruise or go to the beach. Why don’t you go on and retire from that old mill you’re still working at and the two of you take off for a couple of months somewhere?”

  She put her napkin in her coffee cup and eased down in her chair. She thought it was a perfect solution. On their honeymoon, Dick had relaxed altogether into a different man. He was even considering selling the funeral home to one of the corporations that were starting to buy up all the family businesses. She was sure this was all James Senior needed.

  Charlotte waited as Jessie walked back in the room. She sat slumped in her seat. “Jessie, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Could you take some time together?”

  Jessie smiled. “Well, funny you should mention that,” she said as she sat down next to Louise and threw her arm up over her. “I’ve decided to retire.”

  Louise nodded in approval and Margaret touched her on the leg. Beatrice clapped her hands lightly together.

  “Good for you, Jessie,” Margaret said. “You’ve been there a long time.”

  “Lord yes, you’ve stayed with that mill family a whole lot longer than I was able to.” Louise moved so that she could see Jessie without straining her neck. “And now they got the boy in charge. How do you put up with that snotty-nosed college boy as your boss?”

  Jessie laughed. “Oh, he ain’t so bad.” She turned to Beatrice and said, “I just remind him that I’m someone who changed his diapers and whipped his butt.”

  Beatrice seemed pleased at this.

  “And then he just dismisses himself out of my office and leaves me to do my work.”

  Margaret stacked the other photo albums on the coffee table and took her last bit of coffee. Then she wiped her mouth with her napkin. “That’s just wonderful, Jessie. When’s your last day?”

  Before she could answer, James Senior walked in through the kitchen. He stopped at the door as the women were laughing, engaged in cheerful conversation.

  “Well, what has made the committee so happy this evening?” He grinned at them and winked at his wife.

  “Jessie’s just told us the big news that she’s retiring.” Charlotte spun around in her seat so that she could see James.

  “Yes, and we’re trying to decide where you should go in celebration,” Beatrice added.

  James leaned against the door frame. “Well, I guess she told you that we’re planning to move out west.” He did not realize the conversation hadn’t gotten that far. “We’re planning to celebrate the rest of our lives.”

  The room was still. Not one of the women moved in her seat or turned to face Jessie. They just stayed that way, staring at James as he suddenly understood that they had not been told that part of the family’s plans.

  Finally Margaret spoke. “Moving? Jessie, you’re going to move?”

  Jessie dropped her head. She had not known how to tell her friends that she and James Senior were considering a move to California. She wasn’t sure of what it would mean or how they would take it. She waffled between thinking that it wouldn’t be a big deal, that they really weren’t that close, and worrying that it would be more difficult to leave than she might imagine.

  She knew that these women had become her family; and when James began to talk about moving, began pulling out pictures and books about northern California and the possibilities for them, she thought it was just a means to make her laugh. She merely played along with what she thought was only daydreaming. Then the conversations and the potential for moving became more real. And truthfully, she liked the thought of cleaning out her life, scaling down, and starting over in a new place. She found the idea exciting and began to let an old dream start to breathe.

  She had loved it when she first left home for college. She loved learning a new city, meeting the new people, having the new experiences; and she never thought when she was younger that she would come back to Hope Springs. But Jessie soon learned that life rarely moves in the direction one first imagines. And before she knew it, thirty years had come and gone and she was still only five miles from the place where her life began.

  Before James’s homecoming and before the spilling out of his old dreams, Jessie thought it was too late for her to think about a new move, a change, a new address. She figured she had aged out of the adventuresome life phases. She knew what her life was, and for the most part she was happy with it. She kept Hope and provided for Lana and Wallace while they were trying to get their feet on the ground. She didn’t mind her work so much. She had other family close by. She had become settled; and she loved this group. These women. And there was this part, this surprising part—these women were harder for her to consider leaving than even her beloved grandchildren.

  When Jessie began to make excuses about not being able to leave, James had not understood her friendships, ca
using the biggest fight they had had since his return. He said that he could appreciate not wanting to leave family or a home, that even he had mixed feelings about leaving James Junior alone to work in the fields and Wallace and Lana, who now would have to fend for themselves, but four white women? he asked. One of them gay, another one just plain meddlesome, and another one younger than their children—well, this was simply beyond his comprehension. Margaret, he knew, was a good friend. She was reliable, sensible, and compassionate. But, he had told his wife, Margaret could visit often, stay as long as she liked. After all, he had added, she was alone, didn’t have family; maybe she’d like to move with them. But the other three he had questioned: had they really gotten that close?

  Jessie was mad at him for what he said, but she had stumbled on that. She remembered that she had never had many friends growing up. She was always too busy to nurture relationships. With lots of chores to do at home, parents who maintained strict order, and her studious ways, there was very little time for a social life. When Jessie went to college, she met James early, so that any friends she had were always second priority to that primary relationship. It wasn’t until now that she really felt as if she knew what it meant to have a friend. And she then realized that she had four. And these four were at least dear enough to have to give it a lot of thought before leaving them.

  “Understand or not,” she had told her husband in anger, “these women fill me up. And it’s going to take me a little time before I can just say good-bye and leave.” And James had backed down, careful not to bring it up again.

  Margaret was waiting for an answer. The other women now stared at her.

  “Yes,” she answered seriously, “James and I are planning to move to Oakland. He has a sister out there who’d like us to buy the place next to her.” She moved around a bit, readjusting her position next to Louise.

  “Jessie, how long have you been thinking about this?” Margaret knew this was a question everyone had on their minds.

  James left the room, quite sure that he was never going to hear the end of this from his wife. He walked out without anyone even noticing that he had gone.

  “We started talking about it earlier this summer,” Jessie said. “At first, I didn’t think anything of it. But then, I don’t know, I figured it would be fun.” She tried to sound excited.

  “When?” Charlotte just asked the one-word question.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “Well, what are we talking about here?” Louise probed. “Fall, winter, next year?” Her voice was sharp, clipped.

  “I don’t know,” Jessie said again.

  Charlotte turned to Margaret, wondering if she was going to tell her news as well. Margaret rubbed her hands up and down her legs and shook her head as an answer. Beatrice noticed the exchange, curious about what secret they shared.

  “Well, I don’t see how you could move before next year.” Beatrice decided against asking Margaret what was going on and spoke to Jessie. “I mean, you have to retire, you’ll have to clean out everything, you have to pack and get everybody settled. So that the earliest you could really leave is December, and you know you don’t want to move in the cold.”

  Beatrice seemed to have it all figured out. At least if they knew it wasn’t going to be anytime soon that Jessie was moving, they could clear the air of this heaviness and she could share more of her photographs.

  “Did you see the shots from when we went snorkeling?” She dropped her hands to her side and picked up the box again.

  “Beatrice, we don’t want to see any more of your pictures. Frankly, the thought of seeing Dick in a bathing suit is more than I can take right now.” Louise tugged at the front of her shirt. “I can’t believe you’ve been thinking about this for three months and have not mentioned it to us.” She was hurt at Jessie’s silence.

  The other women dropped their eyes. They felt the same way. Margaret, especially, felt a sense of betrayal that Jessie had not spoken of the possibilities. Hadn’t they just been together last week at the mammogram? Why hadn’t Jessie said anything then? And then she realized her own secret and figured that she had no room to make judgments.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessie said. “I was still trying to get used to the idea myself.” She paused. “I like the idea of moving somewhere else. But it was hard thinking about telling anyone.”

  Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She was as surprised and disappointed as the other women. Jessie was very dear to her. She was the voice of reason in the congregation, a person, like Margaret, that she knew would always find and tell the truth. She was solid, strong, and resilient. She held that community together; and Charlotte couldn’t imagine being in the church without her.

  “Well, I think this is horseshit.” Louise was the only one not letting Jessie off the hook for her decision and her silence. And because these women knew Louise and loved her for who she was, even Jessie was not put off by her bluntness. “You’ve been considering this the entire summer and you haven’t let on, haven’t asked us what we thought, haven’t wanted our opinions. Well…” She stammered a bit. “I just think that’s horseshit.”

  Still, the room was quiet.

  Jessie faced her friend sitting beside her. “Okay, Louise, tell me what you really think about me moving.”

  Louise didn’t skip a beat. “I think it’s horseshit. You let that man come back into your life after he walked out on you, and now you’re just going to take up everything and follow him to California?” She was not to be stopped. “Suppose he gets bored out there, then what are you going to do?” She hoped for some help from Beatrice and Margaret, but they were silent.

  “Horseshit,” she said one more time.

  “He’s my husband, Louise. I love him. And I’m not doing this because he wants me to. Sure, it was his idea. But I very much like the idea. I’ve never wanted to stay here.”

  These words stung and the women showed as much.

  Jessie realized how that sounded. “I don’t mean it like that. I love you all. I love this house and my community. But I’m not at home here either. I like to travel. I’ve always thought I’d move somewhere else, but then there were the kids and Mama and Daddy to take care of. I want to experience life in another place before I die. I want to go with him. But I also just want to go.”

  Even Beatrice felt a certain twinge of pain that friendship couldn’t keep Jessie from making this decision. The women were left empty. The news sucked and drained them. They tried to appear understanding, tried even to appear happy for their friend—everyone but Louise. She had decided that Jessie’s choice was a choice against her, and she wanted nothing to do with being polite and gracious. She got up and started to leave.

  “Well, I for one don’t need to hear any more. This hurts me, Jessie, and I’ll just have to be hurt for a little more before I can be nice.”

  She made an exit before anyone tried to stop her. All four watched as Louise stormed out the door, and then they listened as she pulled out and drove away. An awkward silence followed.

  “Horseshit, huh?” Jessie asked the other women. “That what you think too?”

  Margaret forced a laugh. “It’s hard news to hear, Jes. You’re like a sister to her, to all of us.”

  Jessie nodded without saying anything else.

  “Well, look at the time!” Beatrice jumped up. “I have a husband of my own and he’ll be waiting for me.” She moved in front of Jessie. “I’ll help you however I can.” She reached out her hand. “And don’t worry about Louise; she’ll come around. I mean, she might not be pleasant, but she won’t stay mad.”

  Jessie stood up and hugged Beatrice. “Don’t forget your pictures.”

  “Oh, right.” She returned to her seat and grabbed up the box. “Unless, does anyone want to keep them?”

  Margaret and Charlotte both shook their heads. Jessie waved her hands before her, a negative gesture.

  “Oh, okay. Then we meet next month at Margaret’s, right?” She turned to
Margaret.

  Margaret nodded.

  “All right then. I’ll see everyone on Sunday.” And she bounced out the door.

  “I guess I should go too,” Charlotte said as she got up from her seat. She walked into the kitchen and set her coffee cup and saucer on the counter behind her. “I can’t believe this, Jessie.” This was all she could say as she walked back into the room where the other women waited. She hugged her friend and then turned to Margaret. “You coming?”

  Margaret shook her head. “I want to talk a bit to Jessie.”

  Charlotte nodded and headed toward the door. She turned around and said, “Tell James I said goodnight.”

  “Yes,” was Jessie’s response. The young pastor left. She went to her car and sat down, but she did not leave.

  Jessie began cleaning up. She wasn’t sure what kind of reprimand she was about to get from her friend.

  “Jessie, please, sit down.” Margaret remained in her seat.

  “Margaret, I’m sorry. I should have told you,” she said as she went back to the sofa. “I just…” She stammered a bit. “I just…it’s just harder than I thought. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

  Margaret reached over and they held hands. “I know,” she said.

  There was a pause until they heard James moving things around in the back bedroom.

  “That man!” Jessie said in exasperation. “His big mouth, and now if he wakes that baby!” She got up to leave, but Margaret held her hands tighter.

  “Wait,” Margaret said. “I have something I need to tell you too.”

  Charlotte watched through the window from her car as Margaret told the news to Jessie. She knew she shouldn’t be spying like that, but she had been so curious about what Margaret was going to do. After the ultrasound and then the biopsy and hearing the doctor’s recommendations, Margaret had decided to tell the group tonight. She was scheduled for surgery in two weeks.

  The outcome could not be certain at this time. But the size of the lump, the positive reading from the biopsy, and the results from the blood test from her earlier appointment all seemed to point to cancer. Although they could move more conservatively and just do a lumpectomy, the radiologist, the surgeon, Margaret, and her doctor concurred that a mastectomy was really the best way to go. They were hopeful that with its early detection and removal, they could isolate and eliminate any more signs of the disease. They had all agreed this was the best route to take.