After the Rain

by Karen White

  Joe shook his head while folding up the paper. He wasn’t about to let Stinky Harden ruin his time with Suzanne. “Just bad news. Stinky Harden is hell-bent on destroying this town. I just have to make sure I stay mayor long enough to ensure that doesn’t happen. If I don’t win this election, there will be hell to pay.”

  Her face looked pinched, and when he moved to take her hand on top of the counter, she moved it to her lap.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled brightly, but her eyes didn’t match her smile. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess. Lucinda’s really working us hard, trying to get all the new merchandise on the shelves. You’d think there was a run on red silk slips for Christmas or something. Nobody wears a slip anymore.”

  She took a sip of her coffee, and Joe watched her delicate profile, the pale skin on her cheeks, and the way her hand shook slightly as she lifted her mug. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to feel her against him, right there in the middle of the Dixie Diner. But she’d shut him out again, and he’d never been a glutton for punishment. All of his bruises had been accidental.

  “Don’t be so sure, Suzanne. There’s something about a slip under a woman’s dress, especially a red one. . . .” He let her imagination fill in the rest while he took a sip of coffee. He was rewarded with a slight flush on her cheeks.

  The bell over the door rang again, and a gust of cold air hit the back of Joe’s neck. He could feel who it was before he’d even turned around.

  “Well, hey there, Mayor. And Miz Paris. Don’t y’all look like a pair of roosting ducks sitting here together like that?” Stinky smirked. “Better make sure some hunter doesn’t come by and pluck you two off.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Hey, y’all remember my son, Charlie, right? Miz Paris, he said he met you once at the school. You were tidying up or something in the darkroom.”

  Stinky tugged on the arm of the younger version of himself, pulling him in front to face Suzanne and Joe. Suzanne had gone very still, her face even paler than usual. Her voice sounded thin. “Yes, I remember. Good to see you again, Charlie.”

  Charlie looked up at the ceiling and mumbled something.

  Stinky creased his brows in mock sincerity. “Haven’t heard anything from that Lifetime contest yet, have you? I keep calling, but no decision’s been made yet. They said by the end of the week.” He elbowed his son, and Joe wondered why the boy looked so miserable and wouldn’t look at Suzanne.

  Suzanne cleared her throat. “Yes, well, I guess we’ll find out when they’re good and ready.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to it. Good to see y’all.” He patted Joe’s shoulder a little too firmly. “Happy mayoring, Joe. Enjoy it while you can.”

  Motioning for his son to follow, Stinky led the way around the room, pressing flesh and handing out campaign buttons. Joe squinted to read the one Stinky had just placed on Bill Crandall’s suspenders: I CAN CONTROL MY CHILDREN AND THIS TOWN.

  Joe moved to get off his stool, but Suzanne’s hand held him back. “Don’t. People will admire your restraint more than your ability to knock the opponent out cold at the Dixie Diner.”

  He sat back down, knowing she was right, and wondered again what kind of life she must have led to have been granted so much wisdom.

  She laid a bill and some change on the counter and pushed back her stool. “I’ve got to go. Lucinda will be wondering what’s keeping me.”

  He touched her arm, and she looked at him. “What are you doing tonight?”

  He thought he saw an almost imperceptible move toward him before she caught herself. “I’ll be working on Maddie’s album. I’m way behind.”

  “Do you need company?”

  She looked down at his hand on her arm. “No. Not tonight. I’ll get more work done if I’m by myself.”

  He released her, hiding his disappointment. “Good-bye, then. Have a good day.”

  She nodded and left without looking behind her. As Joe stood to take his wallet out of his back pocket, he looked over to find Stinky watching him closely. His opponent had a knowing look on his face, and it gave Joe chill bumps. Without acknowledging the other man, Joe turned and left the diner, thinking it was time for Suzanne to give up a few secrets.

  Suzanne sat on her front porch with a book her in hand, her feet resting on the porch railing, and sobbed. She wore Joe’s old jacket, and the pockets were stuffed with Kleenex. She’d seen the movie version of Little Women twice, and she knew she’d need them for the last few chapters of the book. It felt good to cry. It was something she rarely allowed herself to indulge in.

  She tilted her head back, letting the feeble warmth of the sun soak into her winter-weary skin, and thought fleetingly of Joe, and of how he made her warm with just a touch. She snuggled deeply into her coat, feeling like a hibernating animal—safe and warm for now, but heading toward the inevitable moment when she would have to stick her neck out and move into the world again. The thought made her ill. How can I leave? How can I stay?

  Blowing her nose loudly, she turned the last page of the book and froze. She stared for a long moment at the name scrawled in childish handwriting on the inside back cover in fading blue ink. Michelle Lewis. She ran her finger lightly over the inscription, as if trying to touch a face that had long since faded from her memory. How long has this been here?

  But Suzanne knew. She realized then that she had probably already known, ever since Miss Lena had given her the book. She sat staring at the immature lettering for almost an hour, old memories and past conversations flitting through her brain. Memories of her mother telling Suzanne about her past, about growing up in so many foster homes. And of living with the one person who had made a difference in her life. The woman who had given her mother the necklace with the charm.

  Reaching under her jacket, Suzanne pulled the necklace out to look at it more closely. She read the words out loud, her voice quiet in the chill air. “A life without rain is like the sun without shade.” And under that were the words “R. Michael Jewelers. Walton.”

  She had known it all along, but had refused to acknowledge it. At first, she’d been afraid the knowledge would suck her in, making it harder to leave. But now she knew it was simply a matter of fitting in the last piece of the puzzle showing a journey that had come full circle, the end still nowhere in sight.

  Closing the book gently, she went inside to the drawer in the hall table and pulled out the bag that contained Cassie’s broken chain and loose charms. She had put it off long enough, but it was time now. Shoving the bag into a pocket, Suzanne left the house, heading to the place she’d been avoiding since she arrived in Walton in what seemed another lifetime.

  The late-afternoon sun slanted its dying rays across the doorway of the brightly shingled shop, the gold lettering on the door reading R. MICHAEL JEWELERS. SINCE 1939. A bell over the door announced her arrival, and a man of around sixty appeared from the back of the small store. He had a shock of salt-and-pepper hair that fell over his forehead and framed bright blue eyes. He wore a loupe on a band over his forehead, the creases in the skin around his eyes indicating that he’d just pushed it up when he’d heard her enter.

  He gave her a friendly grin, and she couldn’t help smiling back. “Is there something I can help you with today?”

  She took the bag out of her pocket and laid it on the glass counter over a display of diamond engagement rings. “I need to have this fixed.”

  He nodded. “Ah yes. Cassie Parker was in here the other day with that sweet little baby. She said you’d be in here soon and went ahead and paid for it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Bright blue eyes looked innocently at her. “Pardon me?”

  “She already paid for it?”

  “Sure did.” He slid the jeweler’s loupe back over his eye and examined the break in the chain. “Just like she said. A simple repair job, and then we can put all those hearts back on track.”

  Suzanne shook her head, wondering why Cassie hadn’
t simply come and picked up the broken necklace from her first.

  “If you have a few minutes, I can fix this while you wait.”

  “Sure. No rush.”

  While he disappeared into the back, Suzanne looked around the store, admiring the beautifully colored gemstones and creamy strands of pearls that lay under glass in cabinets against the walls, and in a square display in the middle of the store. She studied a picture on the wall, of a younger version of the man who had helped her. He stood with two older versions of himself. He wore a cap and gown and was holding a diploma. Hanging next to the photograph were three gemologist certificates bearing the names of Randy Michael, Randy Michael Jr., and Randy Michael III, respectively. Whatever the family lacked in originality, they made up for in perseverance. She imagined a Randy Michael opening and closing the shop each day for the past six decades, and she felt a small stab of wistfulness. How wonderful to know your place in the world before you’re even born.

  Mr. Michael came out from the back. “It’s as good as new. I even polished it up a bit, too.” Gently he lowered the necklace into a small cotton pouch. “I remember when Harriet came in to order those last six charms. Nearly broke my heart.” He slid the pouch across the counter and smiled. “Seems like they’re in good hands now.”

  Frowning, she put the pouch in her pocket. “Would you mind taking a look at something and telling me if you remember seeing it before?”

  “Sure thing. Let me have a look.” He peered at her through his loupe, his blue eye enlarged like a giant housefly’s.

  She reached around her neck and undid the clasp of her own necklace. Gently she placed it on the counter, the quiet clicking noise it made when it touched the glass sounding loud in the empty shop.

  He raised the heart up close to his face, peering at it closely. “Hmm,” he said as he studied one side, then flipped it over.

  Handing the necklace back over to her, he pushed the loupe up again. “Yep. I’ve definitely seen that before. That one would be hard to forget.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “Because my daddy and me got in a huge fight about it. It was right after I graduated from college and I was working here in the store. My daddy said not to engrave it because the words were too long and it would be too hard to read. But the lady insisted and I did it anyway. Glad I did, too.”

  Suzanne listened to the sound of her own breathing for a moment, feeling empty but somehow full, too. “What year was that?”

  “It was nineteen sixty-nine. And I know that for a fact.” He nodded as if to punctuate the sentence with his long chin.

  She knew the answer to her next question, too, but she had to ask it anyway. “Do you remember the lady who had it made?”

  “Now, that’s another one that would be hard to forget. Miss Eulene Larsen. She’s been a regular since my granddaddy ran the store. Sweetest thing, too. It’s such a shame about her mind. She was always sharp as a raccoon’s tooth. And now . . .”

  His words drifted off, and Suzanne finished the sentence for him. “And now she’s usually just as sharp, but people don’t always want to listen to what she has to say.”

  He raised bushy eyebrows. “Well, you just might be right about that, honey.”

  “Yes, well, thanks, Mr. Michael.”

  “You’re very welcome. Stop by anytime.”

  She waved good-bye and listened for the ring of the bell as she opened the door to leave. Tucking her hands deep in the pockets of the coat, she headed for Miss Lena’s house.

  It was almost dusk by the time Suzanne stood in front of Miss Lena’s door and rang the doorbell. She was ready to ring it again when she heard the slow shuffle of steps and then the front door was pulled open.

  “Well, this is such a nice surprise. Come on in, sugar. I was just getting ready to watch Wheel of Fortune. I think that Mr. Sajak is so good-looking, don’t you?”

  She stepped back and allowed Suzanne to enter. A dinner tray holding the remainders of Miss Lena’s dinner sat parked next to the well-worn recliner, and the opening music for the game show was starting on the television.

  Suzanne took off her backpack and jacket and hung them on the coatrack by the door. “Let me clean up your dinner for you while you watch your show. We can talk when it’s over.”

  “Why, thank you. I do appreciate it. Dr. Parker checks every day to make sure I’ve watched my Wheel of Fortune. He says it’s good for my memory, even though I tell him there’s nothing wrong with it at all.”

  Suzanne smiled, then picked up the dirty plates and took them to the kitchen. She noticed the plastic flowers in the vase of water, the coupons nailed to the pale blue wall, and the stacks of toilet paper by the back door. At first glance, she thought it strange. Then she remembered that her own mother had stockpiled Charmin by the back door, too. It was cheaper than Kleenex, and you never forgot to grab a bundle of sheets to stuff in your pockets on the way out. She smiled wanly to herself. Just one more clue she’d been oblivious of.

  After cleaning up, she joined the older woman in the front room, taking a seat on the ottoman near the foot of the recliner. When the show was over and the winner had finished squealing and hugging the show’s host, Miss Lena turned to Suzanne.

  “Can I get you some sweet tea while we chat?”

  “No, thank you.” She opened the copy of Little Women that she had pulled from her backpack, and held up the back cover to show Miss Lena. “Do you know who this was?”

  Miss Lena adjusted her bifocals to see the faded print, then smiled as she read the name. “Michelle Lewis. Of course I remember her. She was a very dear child.” She looked over the book at Suzanne and frowned. “You look so much like her, too, although her hair wasn’t as red as yours.”

  Suzanne touched her hair self-consciously. “Yeah, well, me and Miss Clairol had a hand in that. It’s not supposed to be this bright.”

  Miss Lena leaned closer to Suzanne and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “So, did you come here tonight to tell me about your scandalous past?”

  She shook her head. “No. I wanted to talk about my mother.”

  Miss Lena nodded slowly and sat back in her chair, the old springs squeaking. “I wanted to adopt her, you know. But I wasn’t married, and back then they wouldn’t allow that. So they took her away.” Her eyes held a faraway look to them, as if focused on a lost little redheaded girl. “I wanted a daughter so badly. And Michelle and I were like two peas in a pod. We would sit out on the porch for hours, just reading. We’d talk about the books we’d read, and I think that’s what helped her the most. She could talk on and on about other people’s troubles, because I think it was too hard for her to talk about her own.”

  Suzanne tried to reconcile Miss Lena’s image of a vulnerable young girl with the mother she’d known, but couldn’t. “What sort of troubles did she have?”

  “Did I ask you if you’d like some sweet tea? It’s no bother. Did you say that Miss Clairol would be stopping by?”

  “No, and no, thank you.” She waited patiently for Miss Lena to answer her question and had almost given up when the faraway look came back to Miss Lena’s eyes.

  “She had such a big heart, filled with so much love. But she didn’t know how to give it away. Nobody had ever shown her.”

  Suzanne swallowed the bitter taste in her throat. “She never did learn how.”

  A soft smile transformed Miss Lena’s face, making her look much younger. “Now, dear, that’s not true. I’ve seen you with Joe’s babies, and with Joe himself. You had to have learned that from somewhere, don’t you think?”

  Suzanne sat back on the ottoman, stunned. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words would come out. She remembered cradling Maddie that night on her porch, and the tight feeling in her chest she’d experienced while watching Harry sleep in his crib. And even the need to make the hurt go away when Sarah Frances had been sick with chicken pox. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, was the feel of her mother’s hand on her cheek.r />
  There was nothing she could say, because it was true.

  Taking the old woman’s hand again, she said, “You showed her, didn’t you?”

  “I tried, sugar. I tried. But that child had troubles so deep that I couldn’t draw them out of her.” She squeezed Suzanne’s hand. “That doesn’t mean she had no love for you.” Miss Lena leaned forward and touched the charm around Suzanne’s neck. “She’d saved this all those years and then gave it to you. It was her heart and the only thing she had to give. Do you see that now?”

  Suzanne sat in silence, listening to the quiet tick of the clock, and her heart seemed to beat louder in her chest. She did see. For the first time in her life, she didn’t see her mother’s abandonment as something she was responsible for. She grasped the small charm in her fingers. Her mother had loved her enough to set her free, to unbind her from the demons that had chased her mother all her life. The necklace had just been part of the gift.

  “Is Wheel of Fortune on yet? I just love that Pat Sajak.”

  Suzanne looked up at Miss Lena in confusion. “You already—”

  A brief tapping sounded on the door. Suzanne walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see Mrs. Crandall standing on the other side.

  The older woman spoke in a whisper as she addressed Suzanne. “How’s she doing? I’ve come to chat and see her safely to bed. I didn’t know she was expecting company.”

  “I just stopped by for a little while. She seems to be fine, but I think she’s getting tired. I’ll go say good-bye and let you take over.”

  She kissed Miss Lena on the cheek and the old woman called her Michelle. Then Suzanne let herself out the door, feeling suddenly exhausted. She sat down on the porch steps, amid the ceramic planters filled with plastic flowers, and clutched the gold heart charm tightly. A life without rain is like the sun without shade. She finally knew what her mother had been trying to tell her all these years. Oh, Mom. I wish I’d known sooner.

  She stared up at the cold, white stars in the blackness of the winter sky, her breath rising like an offering to the heavens. She thought of the earth spinning on its axis and the moon revolving around it, twenty-four hours and three hundred and sixty-five days of light and shadow, bringing you back to the starting point.