Aunt Melba said. “That child, that child.” Aunt Melba ran a hand over her short, layered ’do and closed her eyes. She leaned back on the sofa, next to Peyton, and began humming “I Surrender All.”
Mama, whose eyes were still red and who hadn’t spoken to anyone since learning the news, sat next to Melba and bowed her head. Peyton, Max, and Gabe joined in the humming. Rachelle and Indigo did too, until this unlikely chorus filled with harmony, and some off-key participants, created a haunting melody. It seemed as if they were moaning to God.
Seeing his family in pain, yet in one accord asking the Lord to handle this situation, caused an emotion Reuben couldn’t identify to swell inside of him. He didn’t talk to God every day like Peyton did. Yet this particular hymn unnerved him. It was the same one Mom Meredith regularly sang in church before she died. He felt his heart beating faster and beads of sweat forming on his brow. What was happening today? Why were the demons that he usually kept at bay until he slept trying to invade his waking existence?
Reuben jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strode out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door. Night had fallen, but he preferred to be cloaked in its darkness right now. He stood on the porch for a few minutes, breathing in and out, then plopped down on the swing and continued trying to regulate his breathing. He couldn’t have a panic attack right now. He couldn’t handle the embarrassment, and his family didn’t need any more drama. He kept breathing slowly, in and out, and tried to stabilize his heartbeat. He felt twelve years old again—helpless, scared, and unable to control his fate, or that of the people he loved.
Tonight, though, he realized he was afraid because Yasmin’s birthday gift to herself—her flight to so-called freedom—would forever change the Burnses. Even if she came home tomorrow, nothing would be the same.
Reuben wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about this, he just knew. He wasn’t sure if the change would be good or bad, helpful or harmful; but it was sitting on the horizon and he knew he had to be ready. They all did.
When his heartbeat was normal again, he was able to focus on his surroundings. Reuben nudged the swing into motion and enjoyed its slow, back-and-forth rhythm. He listened to the mosquitoes buzzing near him and stared at the inky sky. Minutes later, he turned his eyes toward the door when it creaked open. Max stepped onto the porch and leaned against the doorway.
“You alright, man?”
“Not really,” Reuben said. He hadn’t known Max long, but he sensed that he wouldn’t go wrong in trusting him. “I come home and this family starts unraveling.”
Max shrugged and walked over to the edge of the porch, where he too looked up at the stars. “That’s a stretch. What does your coming home have to do with Yasmin’s leaving? She didn’t mention you in the letter. This was all about her modeling career.”
Reuben followed Max’s gaze. “I’m not so sure. I think she left because she was suffocating. And when I was eighteen and living here, I was too. She ran away and left a note; I went to college and never came back. I was able to hide my disconnection better, but it was running away, all the same.”
Reuben looked at Max and tried to mask his despair. “If she’s anything like me, I don’t think she’s coming back, Max. She’s searching for something bigger than a modeling career, and just like I once did, she thinks she has to leave to find it.
“Truth is, we need to find out what’s wrong in here,” Reuben pointed to his heart, “and figure out how to fix that, so we can stop this pattern in our family. I don’t want Charles David doing this to me in another fourteen years.”
Max frowned. “Why do you call it a pattern?”
“Because it is a pattern in this family.” Rachelle appeared in the doorway and answered before Reuben could respond.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was coming to check on you, Reuben,” Rachelle said. “I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you talking.”
She stepped onto the porch and faced the two men. She looked from Reuben to Max and hesitated.
Max turned to head back inside. “Looks like you two need to talk privately. I’ll go check on Indigo.”
But Reuben stopped him. “Stay, man. I trust you. Just don’t let whatever you hear change how you feel about my sister.”
A wry grin spread across Max’s face. “She’s familiar with my skeletons too. It’s all good.”
Rachelle sat next to Reuben on the swing and faced him. “We like to keep the Burnses’ skeletons hidden until the bones decay,” she said. “The trouble with that is that the rotting smell gives away the hiding places anyway.
“I don’t have any deep, dark secret to share, but as I heard the last part of your comment to Max, about the Burns children running away and it being a pattern, I got chills.
“I felt like my parents were too controlling, so I left Philadelphia and came all the way to Jubilant, Texas, for college. Your father David was my first cousin. When he was sixteen, he ran away one weekend because Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles wouldn’t let him join a school band that practiced on Wednesday nights, when he was scheduled to be at Bible study. David came back after spending a couple of nights at a friend’s house. He never ran away physically again, but he never allowed himself to develop a relationship with God, because he thought all the rules of being religious would keep him from performing the music he loved. That’s why he moved his family to New Orleans, to be close to the jazz scene and far from the pressure to be so holy and perfect.”
Reuben settled back in the swing. He felt as if the air had been sucked from his body.
Rachelle sat back too and turned her gaze toward the sky. “I almost didn’t share that with you, thinking tonight was rough enough, but you know what? We’ve got to stop trying to protect each other in this family and just get real. The more real we are, the more we can hear what each other’s needs are and do our best to meet them. I just thought you needed to know that, because it’s part of your history, and part of who your father was, and who we all are.”
Reuben leaned toward her and hugged her. “Thanks, Rachelle.”
He wasn’t sure whether he was thanking her for telling the truth or for simply caring enough to share something about the father he didn’t remember as much as he wanted to. One thing was certain: he wasn’t the only member of this family struggling to get whole, and it was clear that none of them could do it alone.
19
Any other time, she would have said yes before they finished making the offer. This afternoon, Indigo’s hand shook.
She didn’t know if she could go to London for a photography shoot with her sister missing. She just didn’t know.
“Um . . . let me check my calendar and get back to you, okay?” she told the magazine editor.
He didn’t respond, and she knew he was offended. Nobody took time to “think about” a job when this prestigious publication called. Indigo was certain the editor was thinking that if she didn’t know this, she wasn’t the right person for the job.
“I’d love to do it, of course, but my family has some personal matters that we must attend to in the coming weeks, and I just want to make sure this doesn’t overlap.”
Indigo put him on hold and laid her forehead on the table. What should she do?
Yasmin had been gone for four days and hadn’t called or sent any text messages. Worst-case scenarios sped through her mind, again.
Please, God, tell me what to do.
The silence that enveloped her left her cold. She needed to make a decision now.
Max strolled into the studio from the dark room and waved instead of speaking when he saw she held the phone in her hand. He frowned when he realized she wasn’t talking.
She lifted her head. “I’ve got Erich Sierdhoff on hold. He wants me to shoot a new gallery display at a museum in London for Ultier magazine. It’s a four-day job, though, and I’m not sure if I should be leaving the country with Yasmin still missing.”
Max perched on a stool acro
ss the room from Indigo. “When would you have to leave?”
“Next week, on Wednesday or Thursday.”
“How will your being here help?”
Indigo hesitated. “She might reach out to me. She might need me. She may be in trouble, and I don’t want to be half a world away.”
“But what if she doesn’t reach out to you? What if she isn’t in trouble? What if she really is trying to make it on her own?”
Max’s nonchalance about her sister’s flight was making her angry, but she had a client on hold. She pressed the red button on the phone.
“Hello, Erich? If we can shorten the job from four days to two, it looks like it’s doable for me. Is that suitable?”
“Sure, Indigo,” Erich said. “We’ve admired your work since seeing your winning shots from last year’s New York Photo Awards. We’re looking for a fresh eye to shoot these iconic fine art offerings, and felt like you would fit the bill. Give me your address and we’ll get the contract to you ASAP. We’ll fly you out a week from now, out of Houston.”
“That’s great,” Indigo said.
She ended the call and exhaled. Instead of rejoicing that her work was landing her greater recognition and new clients, she felt sick to her stomach. How could she celebrate anything when her baby sister was missing?
Max approached her and took her face in his hands. He leaned toward her and kissed her lips, then her forehead. “You have to keep moving, for Yas. If she ever thought her efforts to pursue her dreams had killed yours, that would destroy her.”
Indigo wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. How did he do that? Somehow he read her like a book and answered the questions swirling through her mind before she could articulate them.
She knew Max was right.
“You have to live the life God gives you and pray for others to find him in their own way,” he said. “But your feeling obligated to sit out of the game isn’t serving anyone. It could be that the jobs you land lead you right to her. Just keep praying and doing what you’re supposed to do.”
On one hand, his advice seemed coldhearted and selfish; on the other, it revealed the maturity and grace her life should be reflecting as she sought to trust God more. That was another thing, though. Did she really trust him like that, or was she just giving lip service to the notion because Max fully believed?
Indigo didn’t have time to sort it all out now. She was going to London and that was that.
The phone rang before she could psychoanalyze herself further. She pulled herself away from Max and picked it up to read the phone number.
“Hey, Mama, everything okay?”
Indigo’s heart pounded. Max held on to her.
“Nothing’s wrong, Indigo,” Mama said. “I just picked up the mail and received a letter from the Jubilant Women’s Foundation. They want to honor me as Woman of the Year for my work in educating youths about the pitfalls of addiction. Can you believe that? Me?”
Indigo’s heart swelled. This award was a big deal, in Jubilant and beyond. She covered the phone and looked at Max.
“Mama’s won a big award,” she whispered, before resuming her conversation. “Good for you, Mama. Why do you sound so ambivalent about it?”
“My youngest child has run away and they’re trying to honor me as Woman of the Year? I think they’ve got it wrong. If Yasmin doesn’t come home soon, I’m going to have to give my regrets.” Indigo turned toward Max again. She thought about the advice he’d just given her. She wished she could hit a playback button for Mama.
If Mama declined the honor because of Yasmin’s choices, that meant a city full of youths who needed to hear her story of overcoming alcoholism and a drunk driving charge might miss the chance to be encouraged that even when you make serious mistakes, you can start over.
But how did one stay engaged in life and not get weighed down by it? Max seemed to have figured it out. Now, if he could just bottle that wisdom and give it away. She’d be first in line to buy.
20
Indigo pulled into the parking lot of the squat brick building and climbed out of her eight-year-old black sedan. She checked her watch to see how late she was and trotted to the door of Hair Pizzazz.
Aunt Melba was going to kill her. Usually if she were more than ten minutes late, she risked having to reschedule. But she was leaving for the job in London in two days; maybe her favorite aunt would cut her some slack. Aunt Melba was considering retiring and selling her business. These days, she only scheduled clients on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so every slot was golden.
Indigo would multitask during today’s visit to the salon, because Melba had promised to help her with wedding logistics, and Rachelle was taking a long lunch from her optometry practice to join them.
Mama was still understandably upset about Yasmin’s disappearing act, and the only thing that seemed to be taking her mind off of it was spending time with Charles David. When the youngster wasn’t at her house, she was visiting Reuben’s home to get her fix. In the meantime, everything else was waylaid, including preparations for Indigo’s special day.
Last Sunday, Mama hadn’t bothered to go to church or prepare dinner for their usual after-church family gathering. She had stayed home in bed, complaining of a headache. Rachelle and Gabe had hosted it instead, and Indigo had fretted the entire time whether Mama was lapsing into her old behavior of drinking and hiding.
Regardless of whether her imagination was running wild or there was some validity to her concerns, asking Mama about invitations, favors for wedding guests, and flower choices would be a waste of time when she was so preoccupied. But as they had promised, Rachelle and Aunt Melba were ready and willing to assist her.
Indigo swung open the door to the salon and grinned at the life-sized portrait of a glammed-up Aunt Melba that graced the foyer. Indigo had taken the picture four years ago, after Aunt Melba recovered from her stroke and resumed control of the salon. The photo was Aunt Melba’s pronouncement that she was back and better than ever.
Indigo was usually humble about her work, but every time she saw the photo, she gave herself kudos for capturing her aunt’s vibrant essence in still life. The picture was also Indigo’s reminder of how far she had come. There were days that summer four years ago, when she sat behind Hair Pizzazz’s reception desk scheduling appointments and running the business side of the salon while Aunt Melba recovered, fretting over whether her life would ever move forward. Her summer newspaper internship had come to an abrupt end when she was diagnosed with glaucoma, she feared that the eye issues would kill her photography career, and she worried that she liked her then-fiancé Brian more than she loved him.
Funny how God worked everything out.
Indigo had formally met Max right here in this salon, when God provided part of her deliverance—a winning entry in an O Magazine photography contest featuring pictures of customers she had snapped while running the salon.
Those memories enveloped her whenever she stopped by Hair Pizzazz. The enlarged photo of Aunt Melba was her regular reminder to be thankful, and to trust that God was working out all of the details. Funny that she thought about that now, when everything in her life that mattered seemed unwieldy again. She knew by now to let go and trust God; why didn’t she just do it?
Raven, an Everson College student who served as one of Aunt Melba’s part-time receptionists, greeted Indigo when she finally pulled herself away from the portrait and approached the check-in desk. Raven picked up the phone and informed Melba that Indigo had arrived.
She chuckled as she ended the call. “Melba says your time has expired, but it’s your lucky day. Her one o’clock client called to reschedule, so come on back and eat crow.”
Indigo rolled her eyes and laughed. “That woman is something else.”
She strolled to the shampoo area and opened her arms wide as she approached Aunt Melba. “Give me some love, Auntie! Thank you for fitting me in.”
Aunt M
elba put a hand on her hip and smirked. “Ummm hmmmm. Sit your little self in this chair so I can get this hair washed and styled before you get me behind schedule for real.”
Indigo laughed. “Thanks, Aunt Melba. Is Rachelle here?”
“She’s in the back, having lunch. Let me wash your hair and while you’re under the dryer, the three of us can chat.”
Aunt Melba nestled Indigo’s neck in the U-shaped crook of the shampoo sink and tilted her head back. When the warm water coursed through her hair and down her scalp, Indigo breathed deeply and relaxed her tense shoulders. Usually she chattered, but today, she cleared her mind and let her thoughts settle.
Aunt Melba helped her sit up and towel dried her hair. Indigo wasn’t surprised that she had noticed the silence.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know,” Indigo said. She didn’t have to put up a front when she was here.
Aunt Melba and Hair Pizzazz were a refuge. Aunt Melba slathered conditioner on her hair and laid her back, to rest her head in the sink while it worked.
“Let me blow dry and style Mrs. Easten, and then I’ll have an hour window with just you and me. Rachelle can join us and we can get caught up on everything.”
Indigo nodded and closed her eyes.
The next thing she knew, Aunt Melba was standing over her again, rinsing her hair with warm water and massaging her scalp.
“I must have dozed off,” Indigo said and stifled a yawn. She saw Rachelle sitting across from her, flipping through a stationery catalog.
“You actually took a fifteen-minute nap,” Aunt Melba said and smiled. “Guess you needed it.”
Indigo smiled. “I guess so. I’ve had a lot on my mind—as we all have—and I haven’t been sleeping well. But maybe the trip to London will get me back on track.”
“Don’t put yourself under that kind of pressure,” Aunt Melba said. “Stop trying to fix everything and just take it one day at a time. We’re going to get through this.”
Rachelle walked over and sat in the seat with the shampoo bowl next to Indigo. “You’re trying to plan a wedding, keep your career going, deal with the disappearance of your sister and the return of your brother. You aren’t superwoman, Indigo.”
Dreams That Won't Let Go Page 9
