Dreams Unspoken

by R. J. Layer

  Jo accepted the woman’s comforting handshake. “Jo, please. They’re the only ones who call me Jo Lynn.” The woman smiled warmly. Jo sighed and looked back at her dad. “Just a week ago we watched football and I promised I’d come again and watch with him today.” Guilt strangled her. How had she not known, not sensed that her pops turned this dreaded corner?

  She placed her hand on Jo’s shoulder. “Sometimes it happens quickly. He’s not suffering, though. We’re here to make sure of that.”

  Jo nodded as tears trickled down her cheeks. “He was such a big man, and now he looks so small lying there.”

  “Your mother says he has a heart of gold.”

  Jo let the tears go. She had come to know in the last month and a half that was true about her dad and that he’d spent the last two decades hiding behind his fear for her. Why hadn’t she tried harder before to tear down the wall that separated them? All those years lost. Jo hated herself now for being as stubborn as he had been.

  “Why don’t you sit with him for a bit? I’m going to check on your mother.”

  She sat in the chair beside the bed and watched for a long time as his chest slowly rose and fell with each labored breath. She grasped his thin, frail fingers in her strong hand.

  “Hi, Pops.” She practically choked on the words. His hand finally twitched in hers and with effort he opened his eyes. When he parted his lips all that came out was a gurgled grunt. She placed her hand on his chest and patted lightly. “Why don’t you let me do the talking for a change?” She was fighting with every fiber of strength she could muster not to cry. He squeezed her hand in response.

  She sat for more than an hour telling him about everything that was going on at the farm, including the miraculous feat Maria accomplished getting past her fear to be able to share something her son enjoyed. He squeezed her hand and Jo knew he was letting her know he understood what that parent-child bond meant. It was more than she could stand. She needed to get out of there.

  “I’ve got to go, Pops, but I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow evening.” She stood and leaned over to kiss his cheek. He squeezed her hand once again. In the kitchen, she placed a kiss on her mom’s cheek. “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’ll be back later tomorrow.” Her mom stared blankly into her tea cup.

  “Can I talk to you?” she said to Lena, who followed Jo to the living room. “I know she thinks I shouldn’t be burdened with any of this,” Jo said quietly, “but I need you to promise you will call me if there’s anything you think I should know about. Anything at all.”

  Lena nodded. “We will have to speak with your mother about that. We were only following the instructions your mother gave us.” She gave Jo a sympathetic expression.

  “Can you please make sure anyone else that’s here knows too?” Lena nodded once more. “Thank you. I’ll be back tomorrow and every day he has left.”

  Lena put a comforting hand on Jo’s shoulder as she had earlier. “Believe me they do appreciate your presence even if they can’t say so.”

  Jo cried most of the way home. It was inevitable, and even though she thought she’d prepared herself for it, apparently this was one of those things you’re never really prepared for. She had hoped—and yes, prayed—he would last until the New Year arrived. She had been hoping for one more Christmas to share with him, but now that seemed an impossibility.

  At home and saddened beyond anything she could comprehend, she found the whiskey bottle packed away, along with most of her life, in one of the boxes. She dropped in a chair on the porch intending to watch the moon come up. As she took her first sip, Kate’s car rolled up the drive.

  Striding to the porch with purpose, she asked, “Where the hell you been all day?” Her tone was a little too harsh and hostile. Jo sat in silence. “You want to tell me where you’ve been?”

  Jo heaved a heavy sigh. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been helping my folks out with some stuff. I wasn’t aware I needed to provide you with my schedule.”

  “Whoa.” Kate raised her hands. “Looks like I hit on a nerve.”

  When Kate started up the porch steps, Jo raised her hand. “I don’t much feel like company right now. I need some time to myself.”

  Kate started backing away. “Yeah, okay, I get it. I’ll check back in with you later.”

  Jo took another sip of the whiskey when Kate’s car turned onto the road and another until the fiery liquor began to make her head feel fuzzy. When the sun set she managed to stumble into the house and drop on the couch. The last image she had was of her parents as they said their good-byes on that day when she went off to summer camp with her friends. And now, it would be a good-bye forever.

  * * *

  The drumming in Jo’s head was entirely too loud. But when she heard her name, she reasoned that the pounding wasn’t only in her head. She finally cracked open one eye and saw Tucker standing a few feet away.

  “Sorry to barge in here, but I was worried, and you didn’t answer the phone, and I found this on the porch.” He rambled on, raising the near empty whiskey bottle. “And the door was unlocked, so—”

  “Tucker…” Jo raised her hand. “Please stop talking.”

  “Sorry, boss.”

  She waved a hand and tried to sit up, her eyes slamming shut as pain shot through her head.

  “You okay?”

  She dropped her feet on the floor and her head on the back of the couch while nausea turned her stomach. He stood silently watching her.

  “What time is it?” she croaked.

  “After eight thirty. You’re usually out before I get here, so like I said, I was worried.”

  He placed the bottle on the coffee table and sat at the other end of the couch. “You don’t got to tell me nothing. Your business is your business, but if there’s something I can help with…”

  Jo looked at Tucker through half-mast eyelids. “Would you happen to know how to make coffee?”

  He popped up. “Oh sure, can’t be a cowboy if you can’t make coffee. How you like it, strong or weak?”

  Jo cleared her throat. “Something between.”

  “You got it.”

  Jo closed her eyes until he returned with two steaming mugs. After several sips, she said, “My dad’s dying, he doesn’t have much time and I need your help.” There, she said it so fast her brain didn’t have time to register the words to make her cry.

  Tucker sat his cup down and faced her. “Dang, that’s awful. I’m real sorry, Jo.”

  “Thanks.” She drank more coffee, hoping it would clear some of the fog from her head. “First of all, I don’t want you to say a word to anyone.”

  “Okay.”

  She looked at him intently. “I mean not a soul. I don’t care who comes around asking. You got it?” He nodded. “And I need you to handle whatever needs done here until this is over. I’ll be in and out of here daily. But I need you to cover whatever comes up. I’ll give you a key to the house and sign some checks so you can pay for anything that comes due.”

  He nodded energetically. “Sure thing, boss. Whatever you need me to do.”

  “Thanks, Tucker. I knew you were this dependable the day I met you.”

  He got up and carried their coffee mugs to the kitchen, then returned a few minutes later with only hers. “I left my cell number out on the kitchen counter. Call if you need me to do anything else…anytime.” She forced half a smile.

  She made herself stand in the shower, but it didn’t help the sick feeling that consumed her. It was more than the hangover. It was the reality of what her life was.

  She pulled on a T-shirt and crawled under the covers in her bed, confident that Tucker would step up and run the farm. She slept soundly until noon, at which time she showered again, dressed and went in search of him. After locating him with the two-way, she let him know she was leaving and wouldn’t return until well after quitting time. He reiterated that she should call if she needed anything at all and not to worry about the farm.

&n
bsp; Her visit was much like the day before, and when she returned home around eight she skipped the whiskey, opting instead for a beer. She turned in early and was feeding horses in the barn Tuesday morning when Tucker arrived. She headed out shortly after ten, wanting to be at her parents by lunchtime. Lena left at three and a woman named Donna, closer to her mom’s age, came for the evening shift. Jo made sure before she left that Donna understood she was to be called if anything changed.

  She didn’t expect to hear the ringing phone at ten minutes after three in the morning and stared at it a long time, her stomach turning over. Oh God. She took a breath and picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

  “Ms. Marchal, this is Helen with Hospice. I’m so sorry to have to tell you that your father has passed. The end came very quickly and he wasn’t in any pain. Your mother wanted you to know, but didn’t want us to wake you.”

  Jo rummaged for some clothes. “How’s my mom?”

  “As you might expect.”

  “Have you called for them to come for him yet?”

  “No, I wanted to speak with you first. Your mother is still sitting with him.”

  Jo pulled on her jeans. “I’m only an hour away. Can you wait that long to make the call?”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “I’m on my way.” Jo buttoned her shirt even as she grabbed her jacket and keys on the way out the door.

  * * *

  The following days blurred as Jo operated on autopilot. Having to be strong for her mom was the only thing that kept her moving forward. She didn’t remember racing home Wednesday afternoon to pack a bag or sitting in her parents’ bedroom while her mom picked out the suit her dad would wear for all eternity. Friday evening, thinking how horrible it was to stand for hours looking at the one you lost, she stood in a trance at her mom’s side as hoards of people she’d never met paraded past his casket. She made up her mind then and there that she would be cremated and have someone, hopefully someone special that she loved, scatter her ashes throughout the hills and pastures where her horses grazed.

  The graveside service tore at her heart. Saying good-bye forever—she couldn’t imagine anything more difficult. Back at the house she could tolerate hearing only so many stories about her dad told by people she didn’t know. She closed herself in his den, intending to call Tucker to check in. That was when she saw the missed call from Maria, made the evening before.

  Part of her wanted to call Maria, but she didn’t feel entirely in control. She was afraid that in addition to sharing how she was doing she would slip up and share with Maria some of what she felt for her. So she only called Tucker, leaving him a voice mail that apologized for leaving without warning and promised to get back as soon as she could.

  She left the den for the kitchen and something to drink. A few minutes later, sitting in the swing out on the patio, arms wrapped tight around herself, she felt the phone vibrate in her pocket. It was Maria again. She almost answered—almost. Tucker called back an hour later, letting her know things were fine and to take all the time she needed. She told him what she needed most was a long ride on one of her horses.

  “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, boss.”

  * * *

  A carload of church widows picked her mom up the following day for Sunday services, which Eileen tried to get Jo to attend with her. Jo couldn’t take any more praying over her dad’s death. She wanted the time alone in the house. She cried into his pillow. She missed him. For more than twenty years she rarely had given him a thought, but today she missed him like she had that first night at summer camp a lifetime ago. If only she could have broken down the barriers sooner, she knew they could have been best friends, but—too little, too late.

  She and her mother had tea in the kitchen that evening.

  “Jo Lynn, honey, you should go back to your home. I know you must have things you need to do there.”

  “I don’t, Mom. I have someone taking care of everything for me.”

  Her mom stared into the teacup. “That nice dark-skinned woman we met?” she asked, avoiding Jo’s eyes.

  Jo saw how uncomfortable it was for her mom to ask the question. “Mom, Maria and I are friends. The young man that works for me is taking care of things at the farm in my absence.”

  She reached over and patted Jo’s hand. “In any case, dear, I think you should go back to your own life.” She looked away. “There must be someone waiting for you to come home.”

  To say Jo was surprised was an understatement. “There’s no one waiting for me to come home, and I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, Mom.”

  Eileen’s cheeks turned a rosy hue. “Your father, God rest his soul, made it impossible for me to have a relationship with my only child for over half of your life.” She reached over and took hold of Jo’s hand. “I don’t know if I can make up for that, but I want to try.” Eileen squeezed her hand. “You’re all I’ve got.” An errant tear escaped her lashes and slid down her cheek.

  It was all Jo could do to speak. “There’s nothing I want more, Mom.” She placed her other hand atop her mom’s. The tender moment touched Jo so deeply it threatened to unleash her own tears.

  “Good, then as your mother I’m going to suggest you go home voluntarily so I don’t have to throw you out.”

  Jo smiled for the first time in a week. “Let’s compromise. I’ll drive home tomorrow.”

  Eileen cupped Jo’s cheek. “I’ll be fine, dear, and I need some time…” Her eyes traveled around the room. “Some time alone. I have my church friends here.” She patted Jo’s hand again. “I will be fine.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jo pulled into her drive mid-morning. A sense of peace washed over her when she stepped out of the truck and took a breath of the crisp fall air. This was the therapy that would assuage her grief. Locating Tucker in the barn, she got a quick update before heading inside to change clothes. She missed her boots and worn comfortable jeans almost as much as her horses. Tucker obviously read her mind since she found him standing outside the barn door with Cobalt already saddled.

  He gave a tiny smile. “Thought you might need to take a ride and check things over for yourself.”

  She took the reins. “Thanks, Tucker.”

  She mounted the horse, grateful for that feeling she always got sitting high in the saddle. There was only one other thing that came close to it, and she hadn’t experienced it or cared to in quite some time. As she settled into the aged leather saddle, her mind flashed on an image of Maria sitting astride a horse beside her. Having Maria around to share her life with would sure ease the grieving process, she thought, before quickly banishing the daydream.

  As Cobalt danced, eager to run, she called over her shoulder, “Remind me to give you a nice fat Christmas bonus.”

  Tucker’s smile went wide. She really liked him. If she could adopt a sibling, she’d want Tucker to be her little brother. Like Tom, he’d become like family.

  She rode for more than an hour. When she returned she was shocked to see the black station wagon in the drive by the house. Maria got out the moment she saw Jo step out of the barn. Meeting on the front porch, Jo removed the Stetson and combed her fingers through her damp hair.

  “Hi,” she said timidly.

  Maria glared at her for a moment. “You ignore my phone calls for days, I finally reached Tucker and all he would tell me was that you were away. I drove out yesterday, found the place deserted and all you have to say is ‘hi’?”

  Jo saw a fire simmering in her dark eyes. A bit fearful, she touched Maria’s elbow ever so lightly. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” In more ways than one. And apparently Maria was so fired up she didn’t realize she was shivering.

  Jo led her to the kitchen where she put the teakettle on to heat. Maria stood, arms crossed tightly over her chest in the doorway while Jo stood at the counter with her back to her placing tea bags into the cups.

  “Well, are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?” Her ton
e was only slightly less scalding than moments before.

  Jo breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. “My dad died and I was taking care of all that stuff, you know, with my mom.”

  Maria was behind her in an instant. “Oh my God, Jo, I’m so sorry.” When she put a hand on her shoulder, Jo’s body went rigid, rejecting the solace she offered before she was even conscious of it. Maria immediately pulled away and gave her some space, moving to one of the stools at the island. “Is there anything I can do?”

  The silence seemed to last forever. Jo poured the water, mesmerized by the rising steam. “Nah, it’s over and dealt with.” She set a mug in front of Maria and took the stool next to her.

  “Do you have a close friend you can talk to?”

  Jo stared off. This felt an awful lot like a wound that had only begun to heal, and now Maria was pulling at it, trying to open it up. “There’s nothing I need to talk about,” she said flatly.

  Maria’s voice, on the other hand, comforted like a favorite old blanket. “Jo, you must be feeling something about your father’s passing. I can’t imagine anyone that wouldn’t. It might help if you talked to someone.”

  What Jo needed was to bury the pain deep inside. “What do you know? You don’t really know me.” She glared over at Maria and the hurt she saw in her eyes made Jo drop her head in shame. “I’m sorry.”

  Maria put her hand over Jo’s. “I’m only trying to be your friend, Jo.”

  Jo sighed. “I know. I’m not real sure if I even know how to do that.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” Maria studied her. “Is it because gay women don’t befriend straight women?”

  Jo shrugged. “I think that would be the other way around.”

  “Oh…”

  “I mean, I don’t know, but I’d think that generally straight women would be afraid of us hitting on them.”

  Maria squeezed Jo’s hand and allowed hers to linger there. “Jo, I’m not afraid of you. Your choice of lovers doesn’t change who you are. You’re kind and caring, and I happen to like those traits in people, male or female, straight or gay. I want to be your friend.” Jo batted feverishly at the tears forming in her eyes. “If you need to talk, about anything, I will always listen.” Jo lost her battle and tears streaked down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” She stood and hugged Jo against her. Jo nestled her head on Maria’s shoulder and cried quietly. “And you can always…always cry on my shoulder,” Maria said softly into Jo’s hair.