The Lavender Hour

by Anne Leclaire

“This morning, he asked me to call Rich and have him come over. Can you imagine? It's the first time in months he's wanted company.” Nona drained the sink of dishwater and dried her hands.

  The dangerous sprig of hope took root.

  “Doctors don't know everything,” Nona said. “You hear all the time about people going into remission.”

  “Could he keep the smoothie down?”

  “Yes,” Nona said, her smile triumphant. A horn sounded outside. “Oh, there's Helen. She's taking me to Orleans to get my hair done. About time, too. I've certainly let myself go. Scare myself just looking in the mirror.”

  NONA LEFT before I could get around to telling her I was going to Virginia over the weekend. I continued drying dishes and thought about her conviction that Luke was getting better. Could it be possible? I suddenly recalled Bernie Siegel and his book that had been for sale following the lecture. Love, Medicine and Miracles. Proof that even doctors knew there was a place for the miraculous. I was nearly finished at the sink when Rich came into the kitchen, leading Rocker on a leash.

  “Hello, again,”he said.

  I concentrated on the glass I was holding and inhaled. He was one of those men who didn't have to say a word to fill a room, just sucked the oxygen right out of it. “Hello.”

  “Nona go out?”

  I nodded, reached for the last glass in the drainer.

  He leaned back against the counter and looked pointedly at my left hand. “Luke says you're not married.”

  “Last I heard, that's not a federal offense.”

  “If it was, I'd be locked up. So do you ever go out?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  He leaned in, more sure of himself.

  “I go to the post office and to the market and to the beach,” I said.

  “Funny,” he said. “So do you date?”

  “Not much. I'm pretty busy.” I was conscious of Luke in the other room, wondered if he could hear this conversation.

  Rich took out his wallet, withdrew a business card, and passed it to me. It was gray with either age or grime, and said RICH ELDREDGE, LANDSCAPING.“Give me a call,”he said, flashing a hard brightness of teeth, “you feel like getting out some night.”

  “Like I said, I'm pretty busy.” I was eager for him to leave so that I could go in to Luke.

  “All work and no play…,”he said.

  “Original,” I said. I nodded at Rocker. “Are you taking him out?”

  “I'm bringing him to my place. Luke wants him to get used to being with me. You know. For after.”

  That tender sprig of hope turned to bone and lodged in my chest. I knew then why Luke had asked to see Rich, and I didn't want any part of it.

  “So give me a call,” he said. “I promise not to bite.”

  “I'm so reassured to hear that,” I said, my voice cool.

  AFTER RICH left, I made a blueberry smoothie and brought it in to Luke. He was seated by the window, the robe over his lap. He seemed calm, peaceful. I could see why Nona believed he was getting better. I allowed myself to think that perhaps I'd been mistaken about why he'd wanted to see Rich. I felt the sharp, keen bite of wanting.

  “Shall I massage your shoulders?”

  “Just sit with me,”he said. He seemed content with the silence, but I was taken with a need to fill it. The room was oddly empty without Rocker.

  “I'm going to Richmond for the weekend,” I said. “To see my mama. She and her boyfriend are having a party.” We had been told not to bring our own histories and stories to the patients, but Luke and I were far beyond that. I had sat beside him, my hand in his, and told him about my cancer, had told him my secrets. And he had trusted me enough to tell me his.

  I told him about Lily and Yawn and the trip to Europe they had planned. I had told him weeks ago about how my daddy had died when I was fourteen, and now I told him that this was the first time my mama had seriously dated. He sat quietly while I rambled on, filling the room with chatter. Occasionally he stroked his fingers along his thigh. Eventually I ran out of words. Our eyes met.

  “Rich isn't much with women,” he said. I knew then that he had overheard the interchange in the kitchen. “Not much with women but great with dogs.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “He's going to keep Rocker.” His eyes were steady, calm. Mine watered.

  “How can you give him away like that?” I said.

  “I need to clean things up,” he said.

  “At least you're not having him shot,” I said, surprising us both with my anger.

  He ignored this. “I don't want to leave everything for Nona to worry about.”

  I refused to listen. “You look better today,” I said. “Really. A lot better.”

  “Stop it, Jess,”he said.

  I bit my lip, refusing to cry.

  “I'm dying,”he said. “We both know that. But I'm choosing the way and time to go.”

  “Don't say that. Please. It's a way off yet.”

  “Jessie,”he said, “I won't ask you again. But I'd like you with me. If I need help, I'd like it to be you.”

  “How can you ask me that?”

  “Who else can I ask?”

  I fiddled with the blanket on his bed, refused to meet his eyes. Couldn't he see that he was asking for the one thing I was incapable of giving him?

  “What if I say no?”

  He looked at me, the same look he had given me the first time I saw him, as if he knew me better than I knew myself. “You won't,” he said.

  I couldn't answer.

  “When are you coming back?” he said after a minute.

  “Sunday night.”

  “I'll miss you.”

  “Shall I stay here, then? I can, you know.”

  “No. You go to your mama's party.” And then, “Jesus, I swore I would say this.”

  “What?”

  “I just want you to know…”

  “What?”

  “If things were different, if I could have a woman…” His voice dropped, then stopped.

  “What, Luke? If you could have a woman, what?”

  The words came slow, as if pulled from him. “I'd want it to be you.”

  Tears welled in my eyes.

  “Hey, none of that,” he said. “I'll see you when you get back.”

  “Promise?” I said, holding his gaze steady. I needed to know he would still be there when I returned.

  “Promise.”

  seventeen

  I STOOD AT the closet trying to manufacture the least bit of interest in packing for Richmond. It had been months since I had been shopping, and I could not find one thing that looked like it would do for Lily's party. I pulled out a pair of jeans, a couple of Ts, and a pair of heeled sandals I hadn't worn since the previous fall, and dropped them in the suitcase. I would have to borrow something from Ashley for Saturday night.

  Early Saturday morning, I drove to Boston. Just before I left, Faye came by with a gift for Lily that looked suspiciously like lingerie. I promised to convey her best wishes, double-checked that she had both Lily's and Ashley's phone numbers, and asked her to call if anything changed with Luke, a promise she agreed to easily, reminding me that everyone on the team is always notified whenever there is a dramatic change.

  I left the Toyota in the lot at Park 'n Fly and caught the shuttle bus to the terminal, then grabbed a cup of overpriced coffee and made my way through tedious lines and security checks before finally boarding the flight, already exhausted. My assigned seat was toward the front of the plane, between two businessmen, the one to my left already busy with a spreadsheet, the one in the window seat smiling with the eager-to-connect look of a talker. While we waited at the gate, I pulled the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket and pretended great interest in an article on Virginia wineries, hoping to deflect conversation, but the man in the window seat was not in the least discouraged. He had the oily skin and soft hands that I have always associated with shoe salesmen.

  “Are you on
vacation?”

  “Sort of,” I said.

  He smiled. “What's a 'sort of vacation?”

  “I'm going to see my family for the weekend.”

  “You're from Virginia, then?”

  “Richmond,” I said. I flipped to another page, pretended to read. He didn't take the hint.

  “I'm from San Francisco originally,” he said. “I moved to Chicago ten years ago and to Boston last year. Usually you hear it the other way around. Most people move from east to west.”

  I nodded, continued to read.

  “My name's Mel,”he said. “Mel Wallace.”

  I nodded again.

  “I'm in real estate,” he said.

  Of course you are. We taxied out, fourth in line for takeoff. As we departed, Boston Harbor receded beneath us, and I felt a flash of panic. The trip was a mistake. I shouldn't have left Luke. I couldn't shake the sense of doom that I'd had since driving off the Cape that something terrible would happen while I was gone, that, in spite of his promise, Luke would be gone when I returned. My hands tightened on the armrest until my fingertips turned white.

  “Don't worry,” Mel said, misunderstanding my anxiety. “It's a perfect day for flying.”

  I forced my fingers to relax. “Yes, it is,” I said.

  “So what do you do?”

  “I make jewelry,” I said, “out of human hair.”

  “Oh,” he said, visibly startled. I actually felt him recoil. I reclined my seatback, closed my eyes, and for the remainder of the flight tried to fight the sense I was making a huge mistake by going to Richmond, by leaving Luke.

  Ten minutes before our arrival, the pilot came on to report that it was eighty-eight degrees and sunny in Richmond. I could feel the oppression of the heat even before we landed.

  I WAS walking into the terminal when I heard Ashley calling my name. The boys, who had shot up since Christmas, enveloped me in sweaty hugs and handed me small bouquets of dandelions. “We picked them ourselves,”Jeffrey announced. Ashley kissed my cheek, and then threw her arms around me. “God, I'm glad you came,” she said. She looked fabulous in a pink sleeveless dress that revealed toned arms. I felt rumpled and frumpy in comparison. As we walked across the parking lot, heat rose in waves off the tarmac. The boys skipped ahead, pulling my wheeled bag behind them.

  “Over there,” Ashley said, pointing to a new-model BMW.

  I looked around. “Lily didn't come?”

  “She's at the house preparing for your arrival.”

  “Is Yawn there, too?”

  “I wouldn't be surprised. They're inseparable. She's just dying for you to meet him.”

  “Any chance we could stop for a drink on the way?”

  Ashley gave me a sharp look. “At ten in the morning?”

  “A Bloody Mary won't kill us. I need something before I face Mama and her friend.”

  “She'll have our hides.”

  “Just one,” I pleaded.

  “Well, I guess we could stop by our house and have a quick drink. We could tell her your flight was delayed.”

  “Fine,” I said, wondering why we had to lie.

  Once at Ashley's, I dug through my bag until I found the Red Sox caps I'd brought for the boys. “Don't let your father see you wearing those,” Ashley warned them. I remembered Daniel was a Phillies fan and immediately went to work teaching them the “Let's go, Red Sox” chant. I suggested they perform for their daddy when he returned from his golf game.

  “You're bad,” Ashley said, and then sent the boys off to watch television so we could have a few minutes alone before we headed over to Lily's. I sat at the table while Ashley got out the vodka, tomato juice, and Tabasco.

  “Not too light on the vodka,” I said.

  Ashley raised an eyebrow.

  “I'm nervous, okay? To tell you the truth, I wish I could see Mama alone first, without the boy toy.”

  Ashley handed me the drink. “Jan's not a bad guy, Jess. Give him a chance.”

  “Not bad. And that's what? Supposed to reassure me?”

  “Will you lighten up, Jessie? Mama loves him. He treats her well and makes her happy, and that's good enough for me.”

  “I thought you didn't like him.”

  “I guess I've come around. I don't understand why you aren't happy for her. Don't you want her to be in love? Would you prefer that she be lonely?”

  “Of course not.” But Ashley's question startled me. Is that what I wanted? My mama not to be in love? I took a swallow of the drink, waited for the vodka to calm me.

  “Well, what's the problem, then?”Ashley said.

  “I don't want her to get hurt.”

  “She's a big girl, Jessie. She can take care of herself.”

  “What about this trip? I still can't believe you're in favor of it.”

  “And I can't believe you're so against it.”

  “Let's just drop it, okay?” I took another swallow of my Bloody Mary, which was already half gone. Ashley had hardly touched hers.

  “So how's Faye?” Ashley asked, an edge to her voice.

  “Older and heavier, but other than that, she's the same.”

  “Whatever that means. I haven't seen her since Daddy's funeral.”

  “She's been great to me this winter. I don't know what I would have done without her.”

  “What is it that you like about her?”

  I thought for a minute. “She's fun to be around. She isn't afraid; in fact, she is one of the few people I've ever met who doesn't seem to have a laundry list of fears. And you know where you stand with her. She tells the truth.”

  “Quite a recommendation.” Ashley looked at me. “So tell me about this Luke.”

  “Not now,” I said, and took another gulp of my drink.

  “But what's the story?” she persisted. “He's dying, right?”

  “He has pancreatic cancer.”

  “So this thing—this crush you have on him or whatever it is— it doesn't even make sense.”

  “Not everything in life makes sense,” I said, an edge to my voice. I polished off the drink. I'd barely been back an hour, and we were already circling close to an argument.

  Ashley set her drink—still barely touched—on the counter. “Come on,” she said. “I'd better get you over to Lily's before she sends out a search party.”

  AsASHLEY pulled up the drive to Lily's, I felt that jolt of nostalgia that returning home always gave me. With the exception of a series of rented apartments, which hardly counted, this was the only home I'd ever known. Two-thirds of my history had occurred here. After my daddy died, I'd been afraid Lily would make us move, a groundless fear, since our mama had never even hinted at the possibility, but one I could not shake nonetheless. The house, a brick Georgian, sat on a rise, surrounded on three sides by trimmed boxwood hedges. There were lilacs and dogwoods in the side yard, plantings of hostas and bleeding hearts on the east, a graceful bed of dahlias and peonies and camellias edging the front porch and the wider veranda on the side. I'd helped Lily plant some of those bulbs. Our love of flowers, of gardening, was one of the few connections we had managed to maintain during my teen years, and as I stared at the blossoms, memories, softened by time, flowed in.

  “Who's taking care of the house while she's away?” I asked.

  “She's hired a house sitter.”

  “You mean some stranger's going to be living here?”

  “Not a stranger. Someone Jan knows from the university. Well, here we go.”

  I had a constricted feeling in my chest. Then the front door flew open, and Lily stepped out. The photo she'd sent at Easter hadn't fully prepared me. Her hair was not just gray but nearly completely white, fuller and freer than I ever remembered.

  “Your hair,” I said as we embraced.

  “Not one word about it,” Lily said. She hugged me, and then held me at arm's length, searched my face. “Are you—?” she began.

  “I'm fine, Mama,” I said.

  She hugged me again, then set m
e loose. Her hug felt familiar, but different, too. It took me a moment to identify the off note. Lily no longer smelled of Shalimar, the scent I had associated with my mama my entire life. She used to call it her signature scent, but apparently it had gone the way of her monthly color and cut at the Elkwood Salon. What had caused so dramatic a transformation? Why the dentist, the gray hair, sailing across the Atlantic, for God's sake? Had she joined a women's group, started therapy? What?

  “Come on,” Lily said. “I want you to meet Jan.”

  He'd been there all along, in the shadows of the front hall, watching us, and now he stepped forward. He was solidly built with sandy hair and the burnished complexion middle-aged men acquired playing golf or tennis. Lily took his arm, beamed.

  Seeing them like that, side by side, was much worse than I had feared. My face flushed with shame for my mama. Did strangers think Jan was her son? Or worse, a gigolo? I couldn't help but wonder what her friends were saying, if they laughed behind her back. I had a vision of my daddy standing next to Lily, tall and strong and dignified, with that puzzled look he always wore in photos, as if he were the last to get the punch line. I willed myself not to cry. I couldn't understand how Ashley had let this happen. It could be worse, but I didn't know how.

  “Hello,” he said. “I've been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I murmured dutifully. I felt hot, dizzy.

  The drink had been a mistake. Or maybe the mistake was in not having had two.

  “Jan wants to take us to lunch,” Lily said. She still clung to his side. With her free arm, she circled my waist and pulled me close. “We thought Julep's.”

  “Sounds great,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice, remembering the Sundays my daddy would take us there for lunch, pronouncing their cheese grits the best in Richmond.

  “I'll see you all later,” Ashley said.

  “Oh, you come, too,” Lily said. “You and the boys, and Daniel if he's free. It's so seldom we're all together, I don't want to lose a minute of it.”

  “Daniel's playing golf,” Ashley said. “But count on the rest of us.”

  “I'll have to change,” I said.

  “You look fine,” Lily said, although I was dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt, wrinkled from the flight.