by Rachel Hauck
“Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control.” Beck’s breath steamed the pane, and as soon as she uttered the last words, the sun bowl vanished in the storm.
Backyard Bible School with Miss Everleigh. The clipped scene was real. She remembered. Barely. Shaking with adrenaline, Beck went to the bedroom with the pictures and studied the gilded-frame photo. The woman looked like Everleigh, but it wasn’t her. Maybe the woman leaning against the Studebaker. Beck stared at the image, wished she could make it larger. This could be the woman she just saw in the house dress. But younger.
None of the other women resembled her. Beck exited the room with a whisper.
“All right, God, or whoever. Tell me, why am I here? What’s going on?”
Thunder clapped, shaking the house, and sure as she stood, Beck heard a voice.
“It’s what you said to your father.”
The strange pronouncement electrified her. Wha—What she said to her father?
“I don’t know what that even means.”
Behind her, the wind drove the rain against the bay window and sent an eerie feather over Beck’s soul.
She had to go. Get out of here. Down the stairs, she burst through the front door into the wet cold air of the veranda.
“I don’t understand. None of this. It doesn’t make sense!”
Then she heard her name drop from the clouds as a thick sheet of rain began to fall.
Beck!
“What?” Her reply came from the deepest, darkest part of her soul. “What do You want from me? I don’t understand.”
She dashed off the porch and into the winter rain. “Hello? What? First Y-You take Dad, th-then my memories, and leave Mom and me to fend for ourselves. Aren’t You on the side of helping people? On the side of good? Huh?”
Water soaked her hair and her clothes, her skin. She didn’t care if she trembled, if she shook with cold, if she looked a fool.
For eighteen years she’d pretended losing Dad was okay. That amnesia was okay. That she’d found a way to live with it. What good were the memories of her dead father anyway? Yet right here, right now, was all a lie.
Life, God, Everleigh, fate had landed her in a place where she had nothing to do but confront her past and contemplate her future. Despite her confusion and complete lack of understanding, it seemed the force of the unseen might be her only hope.
“You have my attention. You called me, didn’t You? Beck? That was You, right? What do You want?” Another slap of thunder was followed by lightning streaks.
“God? What? I don’t understand.” She waited, listening, more soaked, more cold than the moment before.
It’s what you said to your father.
This time the words came from inside, quiet but just as loud and more real than before. Beck dropped to her knees.
“I don’t know what I said to my father.”
Somewhere in the distance, a screen door slammed.
“Beck, are you all right?”
She looked up to see Natalie running across the lane with an umbrella, water from the street staining her yoga pants. “My stars, are you hurt?”
“No. I’m not hurt.”
Bruno’s mom hooked her arm through Beck’s and urged her to stand. “You’ll catch your death out here.” Without asking, she led her to the little house with the big awnings. A welcoming light radiated from the windows. “These Florida storms can come out of nowhere.”
Beck pulled up on the carport, shivering and numb. “I-I’ll just go home. I don’t want to drip on your floor.”
“Don’t you worry about my old floors. They’ve seen way worse than rainwater.” She closed the umbrella and leaned it against the side of the house. “You’re soaked through. Come in and I’ll fix you some tea, grab you a towel. What were you doing kneeling in the rain?”
“I think the house is haunted.”
“Miss Everleigh’s place?” Natalie laughed. “Mercy no. I wouldn’t be surprised if an angel or two hung around, but a ghost wouldn’t dare.”
Weary and shaken, Beck dropped her forehead to the kitchen table’s veneer surface. Water dripped from the ends of her hair and pooled on her already soaked pants.
“Bruno said you have a slight case of amnesia.” The kettle clattered against the burner, followed by the tick-tick-tick of the pilot light.
“Selective.”
“Well, some memories are best forgotten. Now you hold on and I’ll be right back.”
Okay then. That went well. From a peaceful breakfast with sunshine to a sudden storm, disembodied laughter, an apparition, quoting a Bible verse from memory, and last but not least, thunder proclaiming it’s what she said to her father.
What did she say? When? Where?
The kitchen door opened and closed. “Mom?”
Bruno. What was he doing here in the middle of a Saturday morning? Didn’t he have football players to chase? Beck almost sat up, then considered her options.
If she sat up, cold and drenched, her T-shirt clinging to her, he’d want to know what was going on, and she didn’t have an answer. At least not a sane one. She’d rather not talk about the morning’s events until she figured them out.
“Upstairs.” His mother’s call echoed deep within the house. “Can you get out mugs for some tea? Did you get wet? Do you need a towel? Did you say hi to Beck?”
“I don’t need a towel. I wedged my car in next to yours. What’s going on with Beck?”
“I’m not really sure but leave her alone, son. She had a rough morning. She might have seen an angel.”
“You don’t say?”
Head still down, Beck watched Bruno’s feet go by, each step resounding in the small space. The cupboards opened. The mugs clattered against the counter. A canister lid banged.
Then he sat in the chair across from her and stretched out his legs. “Hello, Beck.”
She raised her hand, waving drops.
“So, Mom,” he called. “Anything else happen today?” He peered under the table, catching Beck’s eye, grinning as she made a face.
“What’s up?”
“Not much, you?”
“Did you see an angel?”
“Her words, not mine.”
“Bruno?” Natalie called from somewhere in the house. “Have you eaten? I can make y’all something.”
Bruno sat up. “Grabbed a bite in town. Stuart and I are on our way to Athens to meet with a Georgia player.”
“Not in that small plane again, Bruno.”
“Mom, it’s a top-of-the-line Gulfstream jet. Perfectly safe.”
“So you’ve said. But still—”
“Look at it this way, I’m here in your kitchen instead of stuck in I-75 traffic or in some crummy hotel.”
“Just be careful.” Her voice still reverberated from the bowels of the house. “Oh, there was one weird thing that happened this morning.”
“Only one?” Bruno drummed his fingers on the table and Beck peeked at him from under her hair. The glint in his eye warmed away her chills. “I can’t imagine.”
“I picked up Mrs. Acker’s dry cleaning on my way home last night so I decided to run it over to her this morning after the gym. As I was leaving, she tried to give me her old fur coat. Said she wanted to give me a bonus for stopping by on a Saturday. I was like, ‘Got any cash in those pockets?’ Really, what am I going to do with a fur coat? In Florida? But that thing was pure mink. Has to be worth thousands.”
“You know how people feel about furs today.”
“I’m one of them. Anyway, her daughters would hunt me down if they found that coat missing. But she did give me the change from the dry cleaning. Eight dollars and fifty-two cents. I was thinking of booking a trip to Hawaii.”
“Want me to see if Stuart will fly you out? He needs those long hours.”
“He’d have to pay me to fly over the Pacific. So, are you hopeful about the Georgia player?”
Beck exhaled softly, gaining pe
ace and balance from this causal mother-and-son exchange. Her thoughts settled. Her pulse relaxed. Still, what was taking Natalie so long? She just went for a towel.
“Not really. I’m pretty sure he’ll sign with Jack Bechta, but it can’t hurt to build a rapport with him. If Jack doesn’t work out, maybe he’ll call me.”
“You’ll get him, son. Your experience and good character will win him over.”
“Hopefully. I don’t mind losing a client to Jack. Word on the street is Kevin Vrable has a new protégée and the two of them are doing everything possible to ruin my good name. Hey, remember when I told you about Calvin Blue at FSU?”
“Sure? Any news?” Her voice was muffled, as if buried in a pile of clothes.
“Someone wise told me to order flowers for his mother. Got a text today saying she was bowled over. I’m first on his list now.”
Was this where Beck should lift her head for an I-told-you-so?
Beck gave him a thumbs-up as her mind’s eye drifted above the kitchen, observing Bruno conversing with his mother’s disembodied voice while she sat there with her head planted on the table, cold and shivering. What a sight.
From the stove, the kettle shimmied and whistled.
“That’ll be the tea,” Natalie called.
“I’ll get it.” Bruno’s legs and feet disappeared. “I forgot to tell you when you came by the other night, Mom. Beck and I drove the old Studebaker to Tallahassee.”
“Nice. How’d she drive?”
“Like a dream.”
Well, that was the last straw. Beck sat up with a laugh, shoving her hair away from her face, hooting all the more when her gaze met the smirk in Bruno’s blue eyes.
“How do you take your tea?”
Then Natalie appeared, her arms laden with clothes. “Sorry it took so long, but the towel I grabbed was ratty on the end, so I hunted down a good one. Go figure, they’re all in the laundry. Then I remembered I had some clothes—”
With a cackle, Beck toppled from the chair, face to the floor, and laughed and laughed and laughed.
There was nothing normal about this weird scene, but everything about it screamed life and family.
Natalie draped a towel over her shoulders. “You think the cold got to her? Maybe the angel vision?”
“Here, hand her this. I hope you like cream and sugar, Beck.”
Natalie set a steaming mug by Beck’s head. “Careful now, it’s hot.”
She laughed, no longer caring about voices from heaven, or visions of Backyard Bible School, or the way “love, joy, peace, patience . . .” rolled off her tongue as if she’d recited it yesterday, or Natalie’s delusion of an angel sighting.
She laughed until it didn’t matter she still had no idea what she said to her father. Until the rain stopped and the thunder was long gone over the waters.
chapter fifteen
Everleigh
Since Monday was her day off, Everleigh typically slept in, took a long bath, watched a soap or two, ran some errands, maybe visited a friend. She often met Myrtle for lunch.
But this particular Monday morning Everleigh woke with a mission—to address her tired-mule appearance.
After breakfast, she washed the dishes, made her bed, and dressed in her Sunday best for a trip downtown. Though her Sunday look definitely needed a refreshing too.
Mama looked up from her crossword when Everleigh came in search of her handbag. “Where are you going?”
“Seeing to some errands.” There were times when she and Mama were just too close. In each other’s business.
“What kind of errands? If you’re going to be downtown, pick up—”
“I’m running errands for me, not you, Mama. I’ll see you later.”
“If you want dessert on Thursday, you best pick up some flour.”
What if she didn’t want dessert on Thursday? What if she wanted to lose a few pounds? It was one thing to bulge out of her dress that night at the club, but it was another to have Don’s hand resting on a soft roll of back flab.
She drove down Franklin Avenue toward LuEllen’s Beauty Salon. Parked and walked in with determination. She knew the hairdresser and salon owner would make a fuss over her long absence, so she braced herself.
“I saw your name on my book but refused to believe it until you darkened my door. Everleigh Applegate, where have you been?”
LuEllen wore tight capri pants and a fitted sweater. Her blonde hair was teased into a hairy mountain and her red lipstick left a stain on her coffee cup.
“Busy. Working.” Everleigh hung her coat on the rack by the door. “It’s good to see you.”
“Darling, by the looks of it, you’ve needed to see me for a long, long time.” She patted her chair. “Go on, take a seat. I’ll get the hammer and chisel.”
Everleigh winced, leaning toward the mirror. Was she that bad?
LuEllen set Everleigh’s handbag on the shelf and wrapped her in a cape, prattling on about her son, Ryan, and his new wife.
“They are the cutest lovebirds. Now, what do you want? Cut and color? Of course. We should set up a standing appointment. Let’s not have this mess again.”
Everleigh slid down in the chair. Did LuEllen have to talk so loud? The two ladies under the hair dryers raised the lids to hear what was going on.
“LuEllen, I was thinking of a wash and set. Nothing drastic.”
“Wash and set?” LuEllen curled her lip and pointed at the two under the dryers. “That’s what I do for those old cronies.”
“I heard that.”
“I said it loud enough so’s you could, Jean.” LuEllen spun Everleigh’s chair around. “You’re still young, honey, and under all this brown dullness is a beautiful woman. Have you forgotten how to be her?”
Yes. She’d forgotten. Yes! Everleigh squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to run. What was she doing here? One date with Don Callahan and she was assessing her appearance, her wardrobe, her life.
LuEllen handed her a magazine. “Look through here. See what you like?”
Everleigh fanned the pages. “I-I think just a nice wash and set.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Maybe a trim?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been waiting a year to get my hands on you. We’re dolling you up but good this time.” She took the magazine. “Let’s see.”
“Beauty is more than the latest hairstyle, LuEllen.”
“You took the words out of my mouth.” She gazed at Everleigh through the mirror, tapping her heart. “If you don’t have it going on in here, don’t matter what you got going out here.” She circled her face with her hand. “You could be Lana Turner or Marilyn Monroe on the outside, but if you ain’t got Jesus on the inside? Well, just leave your lipstick and mascara at home. Do you have Jesus on the inside, Everleigh?”
“Y-yes.” Since Mrs. Soja stuck a flannel Jesus, complete with red felt stripes on his back, up on the board during Vacation Bible School, Everleigh believed.
But in truth, she could do better. Live with a greater faith.
“Well then, that’s eighty percent of the battle. The rest is getting this mess into shape.” LuEllen ran her fingers through Everleigh’s hair. “How about a lovely auburn? Or blonde?” She snapped the pages of the magazine, then showed it to Everleigh. “Kim Novak. This is a perfect look for you. You share a name and the same shape eyes. What do you say? Holly, get Ev a Dr Pepper, will you?”
“It’s rather drastic, don’t you think?” Everleigh stared at the blonde, green-eyed bombshell. She looked nothing like her. “Tell you what, LuEllen, you decide. I put myself into your hands.” Everleigh handed back the magazine.
“Second wisest thing you’ve done today. Now, let me mix up some color and eradicate that church mouse from your hair.”
Being a church mouse was easy. Simple. Cheap. Was she really going to keep up with beauty appointments? Spend precious dollars to look good for who, the customers at Reed’s? They didn’t seem to mind her dull appearance.
W
as it for Don Callahan? Hardly. When would she ever see him again? Besides, he was spoken for by a true beauty.
Everleigh stared at her reflection, LuEllen’s voice resounding from the back room, and battled the familiar sensations of guilt and condemnation.
She didn’t deserve a makeover or any kind of second chance. Being a blonde or brunette wouldn’t bring back Rhett or change what she’d done with his son. She was now, and always would be, a mousy brown childless widow.
* * *
Don
The first week in March, Standish sent Don to Waco with legal papers for Dad to sign. Since Valentine’s Day, the merging of the two dealerships hit the fast track.
Don rehearsed his speech to Dad on the way down.
“Are you sure you want to merge with Standish? Look, I was only supposed to work for him a few years, then come back here, take over Callahan Cars. I could come now. But to be honest, Dad, there’s this business venture in Florida with George Granger—”
But when he faced Dad at the Callahan offices, he said nothing. Not one blame word. He just watched him sign. Posed with him when he called Judith to bring her camera.
One word of dissent and he could see Dad’s face. Hear his argument.
“My dad left me with nothing, son. This merger gives you a dealership twice as big as Callahan Cars. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Don set his briefcase beside his boyhood bed and slipped off his tie. If all Dad wanted was a path to retirement, then maybe it didn’t matter if Don went his own way.
He fell back on his pillow and stretched out. Five thirty. Wonder what Everleigh is doing?
He’d not called her since their Valentine’s dinner. He wanted to, but every time he picked up the phone he set it back down.
What could he offer her? His life was in motion, planned out, and moving fast. The Carol Ann engagement hints intensified, and he needed to settle things with her before pursing another woman.
She said something the other night that made him wonder if she’d also like the relationship to end. His heart skipped with hope.
He’d just dozed off when voices echoed down the hall. Plates rattled against the kitchen table.
