by Leah Torie
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jessie said to the sandwich.
Bibbi tutted, but mercifully, she dropped the subject.
“This chicken is great. Do you think it’s free range?” Bibbi asked, in a blatant attempt to steer the conversation away from Tom.
Relieved to have something else to focus on instead of explaining herself, Jessie nodded. “I’m pretty sure the menu said it was free range and organic. I don’t really know the difference but I’m imagining happy hens, roaming the wilds of Alaska, singing to each other around a campfire as they sit on their eggs to keep them warm until they hatch...”
Bibbi interrupted Jessie’s train of thought by laughing so hard.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not where free range, organic chicken comes from. Sounds more like something that would come from the Midwest.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I could get used to hearing you say that. So, when are you and Mister Tall, Dark and Speechless going on a date?”
The question blindsided Jessie and she blinked for a moment, caught in imaginary floodlights.
“I don’t think—” she began, but Bibbi was in full swing.
“You have to give it your best shot. He really likes you.”
“You think?” Jessie bought into Bibbi’s optimism for a moment. “No way, I don’t want to make any assumptions. Anyway, I can’t let myself think about things like that. I’m in mourning. For my mother.”
Bibbi deflated a little. “Yeah, I know. But, gee, Jessie, I really want to see you settled and happy with someone.”
The conversation turned to the funeral arrangements, and Jessie didn’t have another moment to think about Tom because she had a responsibility to her family.
Her mom had to be the focus of all her attention right now. Anything else would be completely inappropriate.
Jessie ignored the knock at the door. It was almost dinner time, and she was at a critical point in the sauce. Anyway, Anna was capable of opening the door.
Her sister’s footsteps click-clacked across the hallway, and Jessie’s shoulders stiffened for a moment as she realized Anna had been wearing her shoes around the house.
There were a lot of things Anna did which Jessie would do differently, but she tried her best to let them all go. After all, her sister was only going to be there temporarily.
Raised voices from the hallway made Jessie abandon the sauce and hurry to see what the kerfuffle was.
A tall, ruggedly handsome man stood on the doorstep in a black woolen coat with lapels. He held the handle of a small suitcase in one hand, and the white baggage label clearly proclaimed he’d recently been on a plane.
Jessie vaguely recognized him from her sister’s wedding, years ago. Richard. He looked different. Older. He didn’t acknowledge her, however, because he was too busy arguing with Anna.
“...all I’m saying is, you should have told me where you’d gone.”
“I needed space to get my thoughts together.”
“I was worried sick!”
“Who told you where I was?”
“Your sister.” Richard gestured to Jessie.
There was a silence, then Anna slowly spun around to look at Jessie, who tilted her chin up and stood her ground.
“You called my husband?”
“Someone had to,” he interjected.
“Be quiet,” Anna snapped over her shoulder, before fixing Jessie with another hard gaze. “I can’t believe you betrayed me like that! I told you in confidence, you had no right to share it!”
There was another silence.
“Share what?” Richard asked.
Anna’s face turned to horror.
“I didn’t share anything,” Jessie retorted with ice in her voice. She returned to the kitchen to try and salvage her soup. This was absolutely not a conversation she wanted to witness.
The sauce had separated into transparent ovals of butter floating on the surface of the yellow. Over the sound of her own vigorous stirring, Jessie heard her sister and brother-in-law talking over one another. Anna’s voice got higher and higher, then her words seemed fractured by sobs.
Jessie knew her sister had to make up with her husband. There was no real reason for them to be separated, and the sooner Anna dealt with that, the faster they could move forward.
Dinner was tense. Taylor pushed her food around the bowl with her fork. Jessie tried to ignore her daughter’s green peas swirling around in the corner of her eye but it was distracting, and the sound of Taylor’s fork scraping against the bottom of the bowl only served to underscore the fact that no one in the room was talking.
“Eat them,” Anna snapped.
Jessie glared at her sister. “Don’t speak to my daughter like that.”
Anna frowned. She said nothing more to Taylor, but she didn’t apologize, either. Richard looked sympathetically toward Jessie, who sighed and turned to her daughter.
“Honey, don’t you want to eat your food?”
“My tummy hurts.”
“Why don’t you go on up to bed, and I’ll put our food in the fridge, then I’ll come read you a story.”
Taylor nodded and pushed her chair back. Her tiny feet padded out of the room and up the stairs. Ignoring Anna completely, Jessie took the two uneaten bowls out to the fridge then followed Taylor upstairs.
As she was tucking Taylor into bed after her story, Jessie ruminated on the disagreement with her sister. Anna was clearly happy—no, not happy; none of them were happy right now—but she wasn’t unhappy that her husband was there. She needed him right now. And yet, she was being so hostile to Jessie. Did this make any sense?
Jessie wondered about apologizing just to smooth things over between them, but then she remembered the way Anna had spoken to Taylor at the dinner table, and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to back down until Anna did.
Jessie sighed and remembered her disagreement with Bibbi. This was exactly how it had spiraled into neither of them talking for all that time. The fact it had happened again with Anna made Jessie seriously wonder whether it was her fault after all. She was the common denominator in the equation.
“Mommy, did I upset Auntie Anna?” Taylor asked as Jessie kissed her goodnight.
Jessie’s heart clenched and she gave her daughter a sympathetic look. “No, sweetheart. Anna is just having a bad day is all. She loves you with all her heart. You know that.”
Taylor looked uncertain but she nodded all the same. “Okay, Mommy. Goodnight.”
“Night night. Sweet dreams. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
As Jessie turned to leave, tears welled up in her eyes and her throat constricted. She remembered being kissed goodnight by her own mother, years ago, and feeling the love and warmth of being tucked up in the middle of a happy family.
When had that changed? She went down to the living room and looked at the framed photos on the mantelpiece. Snapshots in time. Moments that were mostly posed and rigid, evoking memories of her mom snapping, “be still, Jessie, and straighten up” followed by her father grumbling about his shirt collar being too tight, while Anna and Lucinda whispered and giggled. But there was one photograph which was different.
Jessie pulled it out from where she’d turned it face down a couple of years ago, after a particularly heated exchange with her mom.
It was a candid shot, taken during a Christmas afternoon by a family friend who had stopped by to visit. Jessie was ten, blonde ringlets tumbling down her cheeks from two high bunches in the style of her favorite singer at the time.
She wore a green velvet dress trimmed with white faux fur, embellished with pearl beads, the height of children’s formal fashion in the nineties. The photograph was special not because of the dress, or the hair, but because she was sitting on her mom’s knee, eyes lit up, hands holding a small present. And her mom was smiling back at her.
It was the only evidence Jessie had ever seen that her mom had c
ared about her, once, a very long time ago.
She sat on the sofa with the photograph and broke down.
Ever since the rift between them, Jessie had always thought she would make up with her mom one day, that they would reconcile, forgive each other for the long list of differences and go back to how things had been when this photo was taken.
Now, she would never have the chance to tell her mom that she was sorry, or that she wished she had been a better daughter. She would never get to ask her about her mom’s own childhood, or any of the myriad other things Jessie had always wondered but never dared inquire about.
Jessie thought about Taylor. She couldn’t imagine Taylor ever doing anything that made her so angry she cut her out of her heart. And Jessie knew she had tried so hard to make amends. Somehow, it hadn’t been enough.
The daily visits had been taken for granted. Every conversation lately had been a criticism or an admonishment. Things were so far past salvageable, even before Mrs. Martin had died.
Jessie kept looking at the picture, trying to remember the day from her own point of view rather than the one in the photo. She’d been so happy. Excited about the wonder of Christmas. It was always a time of such promise and hope.
“Oh, Jess,” Anna’s voice was soft. Hands went around Jessie’s shoulders and she realized her sister was giving her a hug. The scent of Anna’s magnolia hand cream reminded Jessie of times gone by.
“When did everything get so messed up and complicated?” Jessie whispered.
“I’m sorry I got bent out of shape over Richard. It was a shock,” Anna said.
“I called him accidentally. But when he answered the phone, I told him what was going on.”
“I’m glad you did.” Anna’s gratitude warmed Jessie’s heart and soothed her. Perhaps they would weather this storm, after all.
Chapter 16
There were more flowers at Mrs. Martin’s funeral than there had been at Martha’s wedding, and that had been the showiest, most elaborate event in recent memory. People had sent flowers from all over.
Most of the displays were chunky, bulky things, and Jessie privately thought quite a few of the arrangements were tasteless, but she knew it was the thought that counted, so she had tried to ensure all the flowers were positioned in the Chapel of Rest, around the coffin, and in the hearse in the most balanced and aesthetic way possible.
“The house is going to be swimming in wreaths for years,” Anna remarked. As poised as ever, she was the picture of elegance in her designer black suit with calf-length skirt, and a black veil.
“I was planning on donating them to the old folks’ homes to bring some joy into people’s lives,” Jessie replied, smoothing the creases that had somehow already formed in her skirt.
“Here, let me help.” Anna leaned sideways, balancing in her three-inch block heels gracefully, while Jessie tottered in her matching pair. Reaching out, Anna unclipped Jessie’s hair.
“What did you do that for? It took me ages to put my hair up!” Jessie whispered, not wanting to draw any attention in case any mourners arrived while this was happening.
“Shh. Trust your sister.” Anna’s lack of explanation did nothing to reassure Jessie. She felt her hair being moved and, occasionally, tugged at and twisted. The clip went back in and Anna stepped back.
“Are you done?” Jessie raised a defiant brow.
“Sure. You had at least six kinks and two flyaways. Now you look perfect.”
“Thanks.” Jessie wished she could say it with more appreciation, but her sister’s natural ability with these sorts of things just felt like Anna was overshadowing Jessie’s own attempts.
“You look beautiful, Mama,” Taylor said, entering the room, holding Becca’s hand on one side and Bibbi’s on the other. In her black satin dress, Taylor still looked like a beautiful angel. She had surely inherited the Martin family grace, even if it had passed Jessie by.
“Thank you, sweetheart, so do you.” Jessie hugged her daughter. “Now remember, if you get very sad, I have extra tissues. And if Cousin Miranda asks, homeschooling is going great.”
“But we haven’t really started—” Taylor began.
“I know, but other people don’t need to know our business,” Jessie explained, wishing there was a straightforward way to avoid Taylor being used as a pawn in family politics.
“We’ll try to head her off if you get separated from Taylor,” Becca promised. Jessie flashed her a smile of gratitude but couldn’t say anything more because family members began arriving and kept coming in a steady trickle for the next twenty minutes.
“Where’s Lucinda?” Jessie wondered.
“She said she was coming straight here. She’s had so many flight troubles,” Anna explained.
Jessie didn’t want to say anything unkind about her sister, but she was pretty sure Lucinda didn’t have as many problems as she made out. If she believed in gambling, Jessie would have bet money that Lucinda had simply left it until the last minute to come home.
She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. This day was supposed to be about her mom, not family drama.
A tall woman with long, red hair strode in, wearing a designer outfit that could only be described as a little black dress, and four-inch dark red stilettoes. It took Jessie a few seconds to realize it was her sister.
“Luce!” Anna recognized her straight away, and hurried to her, arms spread.
Lucinda held up her hands and shook her head. “I just had my hair arranged.”
Anna stepped back, looking up at their oldest sister with reverence.
“There won’t be any photographers,” Jessie grumbled under her breath. Her sisters both shot her a glance but since neither of them said anything, she was pretty sure they hadn’t heard her. They were talking like they were the only two people in the room. Again. Like every time Anna and Luce got together. Jessie clearly saw the shape that the rest of the day was going to take, and she didn’t like it. She left them where they were, and she went to sit with Bibbi, Becca and Taylor, where she tried not to seethe at being left out by her sisters within moments of Lucinda’s arrival.
Jessie made it to the end of the service in one piece, but she was glad someone else was driving her to the graveyard, because she felt tearful and unsteady on her feet.
On the dewy grass surrounded by somber headstones, Jessie watched Lucinda struggle to walk to the open grave, because her expensive stiletto shoes kept sinking into the ground. She knew it was completely inappropriate to laugh at a funeral, but the corners of her mouth turned up, all the same.
They stood at the family tomb, where their father was buried, and the day suddenly got to Jessie. Unyielding pressure squeezed her chest and made her struggle to breathe. Her mom was inside that shiny, polished coffin. She was about to be lowered into the ground. There must be some mistake. Mrs. Martin hadn’t been old enough to leave them. Jessie’s tears spilled over and she felt herself toppling.
Strong arms caught her and held her up.
“You can do this,” Tom murmured. She hadn’t noticed him arriving, yet there he was. From his support, she found the strength to stand again, although she shamelessly gripped his hand as her heart felt like it was being shredded. Watching her mother being buried was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.
In spite of her mysterious encounter at the hospital, Jessie didn’t believe with her whole heart that her mom was going to Heaven. What if it wasn’t real? What if death truly was the end? She was asking questions so big, great thinkers had spent lifetimes trying to find answers, and yet she was supposed to just know. But she didn’t know anything.
Never had she felt so small and inconsequential, or so completely humbled in the face of the absolute complexity of the universe.
That night, Jessie lay in bed and hoped to never endure another day like that one. Things had been said between relatives. Bibbi had threatened very quietly to punch Cousin Miranda. Becca had told Lucinda to shut up when she had tried
to tell everyone how underrated sushi was.
There had been no outright arguments, just a lot of acidic remarks said by smiling women, and muttered retorts under their breath. It had been an exercise in passive-aggressiveness and Jessie had put up with it, not saying a word to anyone about anyone else, but inside, she had felt like someone was scraping nails down a pane of glass as she tried to maintain the facade that everything was fine. She knew it was not fine, and so did everyone else. It was a funeral, for crying out loud.
Among all the backhanded compliments and snarky remarks, Taylor’s conduct had been exemplary. If she’d had any inkling of what was going on between adults, Taylor hadn’t shown it, and Jessie doubted her daughter really understood any of it. But she had sat quietly through a very dull, adult event, and that was something a lot of kids wouldn’t have been able to do. Jessie resolved to get her daughter a little gift to show her gratitude.
But first, sleep. Her bones ached with a tiredness like nothing she had ever known. It was like every drop of warmth from her heart had been transformed into pain then wrung out until she had bled all over her mother’s grave. She hadn’t been able to put her feelings into words because they were just too big. The only thing she knew for sure was that Tom had literally held her up when she’d almost buckled under the weight of her sorrow.
Her mother was gone. The days opened up before her, no longer filled with daily visits to the hospital, and she didn’t know what she would do with herself. Everything she could fill the time with seemed trite and pointless.
She drifted into slumber with no answers to anything.
“Do you have everything for your flight?” Jessie had almost forgotten what the house was like without Anna around. Already it was looking empty as Anna had packed the things she’d accumulated over the past few weeks.
“I could use a bottle of water,” Anna admitted, tying her hair back effortlessly.
