by Lisa Smartt
Clara put on lipstick and straightened her hair some. I didn’t think it was remotely disrespectful to do so. Her parents were gone but she needed routine and order…and of course, love.
Lunch wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. Doug and Dusty had both removed their jackets and left them in the truck. Doug rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Dusty loosened his tie and said he was glad he didn’t have to wear one every day. I was happy we were seated at a square table so there wouldn’t be that uncomfortable “sitting next to each other in a booth” moment. Clara didn’t need that.
Clara seemed more relaxed than I had seen her in days. Maybe the funeral had given her a new beginning, a comfort, the courage to press on. We determined to keep her on light-hearted subjects and it worked. I scoffed at her disdain for mushrooms. She laughed at the fact that a girls’ 6th birthday party was being held in the next room, saying, “Yeah, I knew Carlie would pick a place like this. She’s a woman of class and taste. But where’s my Barbie coloring book, Carlie? You didn’t even buy me a coloring book.”
Dusty ate a lot of pizza and laughed at all our corny jokes. Each time Clara spoke, he looked straight at her. I could tell he was completely mesmerized. He must have known we knew. I mean, an eight-hour drive? C’mon, Dusty. We weren’t born yesterday. But then the oddest thing happened. He pushed his chair back from the table and said quietly, “I have to get back home today so I best be leavin’. Clara, I’m real sorry about your parents. I know what it’s like to lose someone close like that. I do. And it’s terrible. Just know that I’m real sorry about everything. I came out the other side of somethin’ terrible and so will you. You will.” He stood and extended his hand to her and with his other hand, he patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sure they were proud of you, Clara. Real proud.”
She shook his hand but the disappointment was written all over her face. “Thank you, Dusty. Thank you for coming to the funeral. Really. It was a total surprise.” I stood and hugged Dusty. Doug stood and put out his hand. “Dusty, I’ll get with ya next week, man. See you soon.”
And then he was gone. No attempt to woo her. No hanging around with hopes she’d fall in love or at least in like. No. Dusty wasn’t planning on wearing out his welcome. He figured 16 hours of driving should speak straight to her heart. And it did.
Chapter 43 CLARA LOUISE: The Road to Recovery
I know people thought it was odd. I went back to my kindergarten class two days after the funeral. I didn’t need to sit around the house in sweat pants watching Lifetime movies. I needed to work and be around people. I had planned to drive to Tennessee after a few days but decided against it. The week went remarkably well. I had two counseling sessions which were helpful. A few of the children had seen the news or heard their parents talking which meant they had questions. I answered every question the same way, “There are some things Ms. Johnson doesn’t want to talk about.” Carlie called every afternoon with the same two questions: What have you eaten today? Did you sleep well? She must have read a book about grief that convinced her that those were primary issues. And they were, I guess. I made myself eat and I still took the sleeping pills at night.
I hadn’t been back to the house. I knew there were things I needed to do. Clean the food out of the refrigerator. Cancel their driver’s licenses. Get some personal items and pictures. Make a financial plan. Close bank accounts. But instead I pretended the house didn’t exist. My counselor said that was fine for now.
Jake called the night of the funeral and a few nights later. But there was an odd distance between us. I wanted to blame it on his mom. But she wasn’t to blame. I told him about the counseling. He asked how many months it would take. I thought that was an odd question. I told him it might last the rest of my life. Silence. And for the first time, I understood our problem. Jake Smith’s not a bad guy. He’s kind and good and loving. That night at the yogurt shop, he told the truth. He did plan to stick by me. He knew I was wounded and broken. But he had a plan. He was going to fix me. You know, like when a man buys a broken down old ’57 Chevy with a plan to restore it. Knock the dents out. Make it shiny again. Make it new. But now Jake realized that no matter how much God healed me, restored me, there would always be a little glitch. A glitch he couldn’t live with.
I talked to the counselor about it and she helped me make a plan. I was going to Doug and Carlie’s next weekend. Jake and I would go out on Saturday and I would explain that I would probably be broken for a very long time. It would hurt but I would let him off the hook.
But the plan never got off the ground. Jake Smith called me five nights after my parents’ funeral and told me our relationship wasn’t going to work. His voice cracked. He said he knew the timing was bad but he thought it was worse to drag it out. He was right. If I were twenty, I would have cried and begged and tried to super glue myself together so that I could win his affections. But I no longer had the energy. Plus, I was learning in counseling about real love. This wasn’t it. It was a freedom of sorts.
Carlie begged me to still come for the weekend. On Wednesday I asked Mr. Hobbs for Monday off so I could have a long weekend and he graciously consented. I knew he would. I no longer dreaded the drive. The thought of leaving Commerce brought relief.
Chapter 44 CARLIE: The Cocoa Bean Has Healing Properties
Clara was on her way and I didn’t feel like straightening the house so I did what every messy woman in America does. I put every out-of-place item in a large 30 gallon garbage bag. I tied the bag up and happily put it in the hall closet for safe keeping. If Doug starts looking for flip flops or the electric bill or yard darts, I’ll have to remember to look in the bag of shame.
Clara arrived at 10:00 pm and even though I was sleepy, I drank cocoa with her on the porch. It was becoming tradition. “So, how are you feeling? About Jake? Your parents? Life?”
“I hate to say it but I feel relief about Jake. Like the pressure is off. I don’t have to be better than I can be. Does that make sense?”
“I guess. And what about your parents?”
“I miss Mama. I want to miss Daddy but I can’t really. I mean, I hardly knew him. Then that becomes its own grief. The whole daddy daughter thing.” She pulled the blanket around her shoulders. “The idea of wanting him to love me and protect me, knowing that he didn’t or he couldn’t. The counselor is helping me walk through those things though. She is. And of course, having to forgive them, both of them.”
We talked for more than an hour before we called it quits for the night. I got a late night e-mail from Shannon requesting prayer for an appointment with an adoption agency. Ashley Harrison left a phone message, saying she had lost 15 pounds and they were to start shooting scenes next week. The book was to be released in late September. Things were moving along at a rapid pace. I only had two things to do now: learn to make pork chops and find a man for Clara Louise Johnson. Not a bad “to do” list.
After breakfast, I explained to Clara that I had to speak at a luncheon at the University of Tennessee in Martin and Doug would be going with me. But not to worry. Aunt Charlotte wanted to take her to lunch and would arrive promptly at 12:00. I may never learn to make pork chops, but one project is getting crossed off the “to do” list. Today, if possible.
Chapter 45 CLARA LOUISE: Tater Tots and Tears
Doug’s Aunt Charlotte had grown on me. I didn’t know what to think at first. But now I found myself looking forward to being with her. She blew in the door at 12:10, her face red and sweaty.
“Sorry I’m late, Darlin’. Had some dog and coon trouble this mornin’. The dog chased the coon and the coon got down in the cellar, broke some jars of pickles and tomato relish and an old jar of moonshine from Doc Lawson,” she leaned in and spoke in a whisper, “for medicinal purposes only, of course.” She poured a glass of water and wiped her face with a paper towel. “Law, the smell down in that cellar. Smelled like Jack Daniels done took up with a hot dog vendor. Bart was cussin’ that coon and we was bot
h cleanin’ up the mess best we could. I think we got it all done, but if I smell like a bar maid, well, you’ll have to forgive me.”
I laughed and said, “No problem, Aunt Charlotte.” I said it before I even realized what I said. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say ‘aunt’.”
“Well, I mean for you to say it. I’d be mighty proud to be your aunt. You don’t have to be born in my family, Clara. Carlie ain’t born in this family. But she’s my family as sure as Doug or anybody else.”
“Thank you, Aunt Charlotte. Thank you.”
I told her I would drive my car and just take her home after lunch. Uncle Bart had dropped her off because she doesn’t drive. I didn’t know why and felt no need to ask. “Where do you want to eat, Aunt Charlotte?”
“Let’s go to Wimpy’s in Greenfield.”
I smiled, remembering the kindness of the people there. It made me remember Jake too and the loss of the only real boyfriend I’d ever had. But I also thought of Dusty and the way he looked at me that day, and the day of the funeral. Carlie hadn’t mentioned him, which surprised me. I wanted so much to contact him and tell him I was in town. But it seemed forward and silly. Plus, he knew I was seeing Jake and he’d think I was one of those silly girls that went from boyfriend to boyfriend. But I wasn’t that girl at all. I’d never even had a boyfriend or kissed a man. Not really.
Wimpy’s was more crowded than last time. Probably because it was Saturday. The same pleasant older woman was there. She found Aunt Charlotte and me a booth near the front. Aunt Charlotte saw a friend from church and excused herself to go make small talk. I looked at the menu and decided to order all the good stuff, burger, tater tots, and a Dr. Pepper. I was ready to order but my lunch companion seemed to be camping out at the other table, talking about the Community Center Quilting Bee and Ida’s upcoming 80th birthday party to be held in the basement of Westside Baptist. Finally, she yelled out, “Clara Baby, why don’t you just order me what you’re gettin’?”
I nodded and the older woman promptly took my order. The sun was shining through the window as I meticulously wiped the dried ketchup from the menu. It was a good day, a day of hope and blessing. That’s when the little bell on the front door rang out and Dusty McConnell walked in. He didn’t take off his cap and smooth his hair. He wasn’t wearing a cap. He wore brand new blue jeans, and a starched plaid cowboy shirt and the brown cowboy boots he wore to the funeral. He didn’t hesitate or talk to Mrs. Jessie or act like he was there to pick up an order. He walked straight to my table and I could hardly breathe.
Aunt Charlotte came running over and hugged Dusty real big. While fanning herself with a napkin, she looked straight at me and said, “Oh Baby, I’m so sorry I can’t stay for lunch. Margaret said the Sunday School material got delivered up at the church and we’ve got to get it organized ‘fore in the mornin’.” She leaned in and whispered, “Margaret will be in fits if it’s not done right.” She shrugged her shoulders, as if to say there was nothing she could do about Margaret’s obsession about Sunday School material.
I smiled real big and said, “Really? So you brought me to Wimpy’s and now you’re standing me up for lunch because of a Sunday School emergency? Is that the story you’re sticking with, Aunt Charlotte?”
She broke out in raucous laughter, grabbing her stomach, saying she shouldn’t have worn tight pantyhose ‘cause her life will surely be cut short. She winked at me, “Don’t you question an old lady, Clara Louise Johnson.” She reached down to hug me and bid us both farewell. Dusty slid into the seat across from me.
Clean-shaven and smiling. His wavy brown hair was combed perfectly in place except for a few little wisps that refused to be controlled. His hands were clean but covered in scars. I hardly even noticed the eye patch anymore. The chin scar was still there but it was made less significant by his kind smile and gentle voice. “Clara, I guess you’re stuck with me. I mean, if it’s okay.”
I smiled and nodded. “So, who’s really behind this little plan?”
His perfect teeth were showing through a crooked grin. “Who do you think?”
“It’s got Carlie and Aunt Charlotte written all over it.”
“Carlie called me yesterday afternoon to tell me you were coming to town. And I’m glad she did. She told me you weren’t with the guy in Union City anymore. Said Mrs. Charlotte wanted to work out this little bait and switch plan. Carlie and I thought it was silly. But it made Mrs. Charlotte happy so we did it.”
“You’re kind to go along with it, Dusty.”
His voice got quiet and he looked out the window and then down at the table. “Oh, it’s not kindness on my part.” Looking right at me, he said, “I wanted to see you. And I don’t mind sayin’ that I was happy to find out you’re not with the insurance guy too. I don’t know what happened, but I’m glad it did.”
“We just weren’t right for each other. The truth is…” I started crying a little and he unfolded the white napkin and handed it to me. “Well, I’m kind of bruised and broken, y’know? Oh, I’m healing and I’m hopeful. Real hopeful. But Jake? Jake needed someone who is new and shiny. Or at least someone who looks new and shiny.”
“Don’t be fooled, Clara. No one’s new and shiny. Not really. Was the break up about your parents?”
“Yeah. And other stuff too. My life has just been, well, it hasn’t been much of a fairy tale. You don’t want the whole story. Probably bore you to death.” I wiped another tear.
“I’ve got all day, Clara. If you want to tell me, you can.” He took a drink of water.
I talked for two hours. I told the whole story of Jason, the men, the baby, the adoption. He asked pertinent questions, but never in judgment. He seemed overflowing with hope, a belief in new beginnings, and a commitment to the truth. At one point, he stood up and got Kleenex from Mrs. Jessie. He re-filled my water glass when the women were taking a break. I didn’t leave out one detail, from my distant dad to the neighbors who talked about me to the move to Commerce.
“It was so bad. So emotionally gruesome that when we moved to Commerce, I decided I would never touch a man again. I wouldn’t care about my appearance. I’d avoid men at all cost. And I did. Until now.”
He tapped lightly on the table with his thumb. “What made the change?”
“Doug and Carlie. When I saw the way Doug treated Carlie, well, I had never seen anything like it. He took care of her. And she respected him. It was amazing to watch. She’d tell me these stories, and I remember praying, believing that it was possible for me too, that all men weren’t like my dad or Jason. So Carlie took it upon herself to find ‘my Doug’ as she would say.” I laughed. “And you know Carlie. She doesn’t give up easily. She tried her best. Things were going pretty good with Jake and then my parents…well, it was just so bad, so dark. I knew Jake wasn’t the kind of guy who could swim in those waters. And that’s okay. Really. I understand it now. The way he looked at me was like, he was in a hurry for me to get better. And I am getting better. I’m not one of those ‘all about me’ people. I’m planning to live a full life. But it will be a process. And I may always be limping. At least a little bit.”
He spoke with authority. “A limp’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s a reminder of being spared something worse. Have you forgiven your parents?”
“I have or at least I’m trying to. I’m working with an unbelievable counselor. She’s helping me walk through some tough steps right now. I knew they were both miserable. They’d been miserable for a long time. I wanted them to get help. There are a lot of people at my church who have been through depression, suicide attempts, bad marriages, addiction. I told them they could get help there, that they didn’t have to be embarrassed or alone. I thought maybe they were coming around and then, well, there they were….dead.”
I continued, “At first, everyone assumed it was a murder suicide. I knew it wasn’t. When investigators found the bank account had been drained, they started checking my parents’ computer and other accounts.
Evidently Mom had inherited some money when Aunt Martha died and she’d been hoarding it in a separate account, probably because she was planning to leave my dad. I didn’t know Aunt Martha even had money and I don’t think my dad knew either. The guy who killed them was Aunt Martha’s neighbor back in Birmingham. He’d met my mom several times and I guess he knew she was set to inherit the money. So when my aunt died, he found Mom online, shared condolences at first and then, well, it’s a long embarrassing story. He was a smooth operator. She was terribly lonely. She gave him a bunch of money and evidently it became a full-blown cyber-affair. At least it was to her. It’s a mess. They think my dad found out about the money and the affair and had threatened to kill the guy. I guess that’s why he did what he did. There’s still a lot I don’t know and I’ve decided I don’t want to know. The police found him outside Atlanta a few days after they were killed. I’m sure I’ll have to testify when he comes to trial.”
“I’m so sorry, Clara. I am.”
“The whole thing still seems unreal, y’know? Like something from TV. Let’s just change the subject. Besides, I’ve been wondering something. Why did you come to the funeral? I mean, you drove all that way, knowing I had a boyfriend. Then you drove all the way home that same day. That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Mr. Bart and Mrs. Charlotte came to the shop the day after your parents died. They told me they’d been killed. I asked her to find out about the funeral plans and let me know. If I could work it out, I knew I would go to the funeral. Sometimes it helps to be around somebody else who’s seen tragedy…and lived through it. It’s kinda like seein’ a big sign that says, ‘Keep going.’.” Dusty looked down at the now empty hamburger plate and smiled, “And I also knew that if it didn’t work out with the insurance guy, I wanted you to know, uh, that I’m not just words, but actions. All the way home that day I prayed. I wasn’t trying to nudge him out, but if he was already on the way out…” He looked straight at me and smiled, “Well, I wanted you to know the kind of man I am, Clara. The kind of man I want to be. That I’m not afraid of making sacrifices.”
