At one point, Grampa John looked up from his carving. “Go ahead in and make yourselves at home,” he told them, nodding toward the front door. “There’s some stew on the stove. It ain’t your grandma’s but it’ll stick to your ribs, sure enough.”
Brokenhearted over the old man’s terrible grief, Evan and Tara stepped into the house.
It was a bitterly cold Saturday morning when friends from far and wide came to pay their respects. Everyone who knew Alice adored her and equally loved her grieving husband. The McCarthy’s tiny field of granite was filled with mourners. As the preacher spoke, an eerie silence filled the frozen air.
“The Lord blessed each of our lives with the gift of knowing and loving Alice. Now He has taken her home to be with Him. Those who remember her, who loved her, walk with heavy hearts today, but we must also remember that Alice has been freed from the heavy chains of this world. She now walks with the Lord and shall dwell peacefully within His house for all eternity. Until the day we meet again …”
The preacher’s kind words were carried on the icy wind and John listened carefully to each one. Amid them, a thousand memories reminded him of why he felt such loss. A thousand more reminded him of the void that now filled the desolate chambers of his heart. He stood rigid, conscious not to sway, and nearly snickered when the pastor mentioned “forgiveness.”
While John fought back the tears that burned to be free, the preacher’s drone drifted and became distant. John tried comforting himself with his own thoughts, but the ache in his heart was worse than anything he’d ever imagined. I’m nothin’ without Alice by my side, he thought, and the pain made him want to join her.
The preacher continued to talk above the sniffles. John glanced down at the scarred earth where friends had dug the hole. Beside his parents, Alice’s pine casket was about to be committed. A roll of old burlap covered the hole, while a mound of dirt mixed with snow sat behind them. Interrupting his own prayer, John questioned the Lord. Why ain’t there another hole dug beside her, Father? It don’t make no sense. It ain’t natural for Alice to be layin’ here alone.
John understood the cycles of life and had always been as comfortable with death as he was with life, but putting Alice in the ground alone was a tough one. I got no purpose walkin’ this earth without my wife matchin’ every step. God, how I wish I was layin’ right there beside her in our eternal bed. He became entranced in the fantasy.
Shoulder to shoulder, Hank, Elle, Evan and Tara stood across the casket from the old man. In his most difficult hour, Grampa John needed to stand alone and they respected him for it.
Elle rubbed Hank’s back, comforting her husband and ignoring her own pain. She loved Alice too. In fact, for years she loved her like her own mother. Then, when the illness took hold and caused the kind woman to live more in the past than the present, Elle loved her like one of her own children. Either way, the depth of the love never changed. At the end, though—just before Alice passed on—Elle prayed for closure. Realizing the harshness of such hopes, she wanted an end to everyone’s suffering once and for all. It had nothing to do with loving her mother-in-law any less. It had to do with peace. Mercifully, the Lord finally answered her prayers.
Denying herself the permission to mourn just yet, she continued to rub Hank’s back and whisper things in his ear that only he could hear. There will be time for me to cry later, she decided.
Hank stared at the beautifully carved casket and played the same reel of his mother over and over in his mind. He remembered watching her slave away for years in the house. She washed clothes by hand, hung them out and warned Hank, “You best stay clear.” Most of the time, he minded her. She canned vegetables, never stopped cooking and was usually busy working on one of her quilts. She was nonstop. Her routine was no easier than Pa’s, only she was being monitored by the ghosts that watched from frames on the parlor walls.
She was also in charge of haircuts and what a treat they were. If Hank didn’t squirm and fuss, she’d rinse out the bowl when she was through hacking him up and fill it with a few scoops of cherry Jell-O. Hank loved rubbing the new fuzz at the back of his head as he sucked the sweet slime through his teeth.
Ma was also the self-appointed boss of hygiene. Every Saturday for sure and sometimes once during the week—depending on how much dirt had accumulated—she’d draw him a bath. Hank loved that old porcelain tub. It was like climbing into a swimming pool, with lion’s claws holding up its weight. Ma would leave him be for a while, then call out, “Cover up your privates. I’m comin’ in.” With strong hands, she’d wash his hair, all the while complaining, “I swear there’s more water on the floor than in the tub!”
He could still see her sneaking dinner up to his room when he was punished, never thinking any less of him for misbehaving; and the wedding ring—from her own finger—that she gave Elle at the breakfast table the morning after he and Elle had eloped. He would never forget the way she always found time to talk, or better yet—to listen; and the ways in which she showered his children with love. The list went on and so did the invisible projector in his head.
Hank struggled to stop it, but the movie kept playing and the emotions he fought to contain finally overwhelmed him. As Elle rubbed his back, telling him, “It’s okay, hon, let it out,” the dam burst wide open. Hank’s whimpers could be heard above them all. Although he was bawling like a child, his embarrassment was suddenly replaced by another truth. This was not a physical pain that he felt. It was his heart and it was breaking. It didn’t matter that he was weeping in front of people. It don’t matter what anyone thinks, he thought. There was great freedom in it.
Hank looked across the casket and noticed his father standing strong. “Pa’s mask is still set in place,” he mumbled under his breath. As Elle leaned in to hear what her husband was trying to say, he added, “I ain’t ever been no match for him but it don’t matter no more.” For the first time, Hank felt sorry for his father.
Evan listened to his father’s labored sighs and childlike sobs. Like a contagious disease passed on by the wind, to his surprise he could feel the man’s pain. With all the resentment he held toward his father, his heart still bled for him. Looking to his side, it amazed him how pain could be such a cohesive bond in bringing people closer together. The bottom line was—they were family. Beyond their differences and hard feelings, they shared a common love and the pain that came from losing it. He’d always thought of his father as being lazy—in a fearful sort of way. Now, he just felt bad for him. Evan realized that his love for his father was stronger than his own pride. He placed his hand upon his pa’s trembling shoulder. Allowing his own tears loose, his mind suddenly flashed Carley’s smiling face. His body shuddered at the unexpected picture, and he realized that the woman he thought was his soul mate had already become nothing more than a bad memory.
Tara huddled against her brother. As the pastor spoke, her thoughts jumped from Lila to Bryce to the possible reasons Georgey didn’t make it to the funeral. Her mind was everywhere and she felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. Her life was in complete shambles, but looking around she discovered that Evan had been right. She wasn’t alone. There was pain etched into every face. All I want is a drink, she thought. Her body craved it terribly. She looked across the casket and noticed Grampa John’s mouth moving. He’s whispering something to Grandma, she realized. That was it. She lost it.
Trapped in his own bitterness, anger and sorrow, John stared at his wife’s coffin. Suddenly, Alice’s bony finger nudged him hard in the back, causing goose bumps to cover his body. It’s her touch, he knew. I’d never miss it. The strong smell of lilac wafted in the air. She’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’.
As if he’d been blinded for days, his eyes reached across the casket and rested upon his family. He gasped at the sight of them. Quickly studying each face, for the first time he could see the pain—and it wasn’t only from grieving the loss of Alice. The entire family was broken. He could feel it as plain as Alice’s messa
ge on his back. They were all slumped over from the weight of the cross they each carried. How could I have been so blind? he thought, kicking himself for missing it. If there had been a second hole, he would have endured his own grief and buried their pain instead. His concern had already shifted.
John continued to study their eyes. It was clear. The very fabric of their lives had become stained and tattered. The look on the two young ones only confirmed John’s beliefs of the world beyond the mountains. Like a cruel dream grinder, it’s chewed ’em up and spit ’em out.
Their parents weren’t in any better shape. Hank could barely stand, while Elle neglected her own needs—as usual—and tended to him. John felt Hank’s pain and cringed over the doubts of being able to heal the one who needed it most. He shook his head. The quilt that Alice spent so many years on is unravelin’ at the seams, he thought. No wonder she kept pokin’ me until I opened my eyes. While my squaw struggled so hard to remember her own life, her family was all fightin’ to forget their own. He felt one more nudge in the back and grinned. “I know, Alice. I know,” he said aloud. Others glanced nervously at the outburst. John’s grin scared them more.
The preacher had just finished his sermon when John dropped to both knees and spoke to his wife. “I see now, squaw. Seems I still got some chores that need tendin’ to.” He placed his lips to the frozen casket and kissed her. “You’re right, as usual. There’s some mendin’ to be done. So leave the porch light on for me and I’ll be along when I’m through.” Standing slowly, he straightened out his back and steeled himself for the chores ahead of him. I still got a few more miles to go, he decided. And it looks like I’ll be travelin’ all the way to hell to reclaim these kids. It was time to take them back from the evils of society.
As John made his way across the tiny cemetery, Doc Schwartz stopped him. “My sincerest sympathies, Big John. To tell the truth, I’m a little concerned about your health right now. I’d like to come by and give you a thorough …”
John raised his hand and halted the kind gesture. “Much obliged, Doc, but I reckon I’m gonna be too busy for a spell. Got a lot of work that needs my full attention.”
Schwartz attempted an objection, but stopped. Big John’s face looked as serious as death. He was clearly on a mission.
Hank, Elle, Evan and Tara watched as the old man approached them. Looking into Elle’s eyes, John pointed down at her jacket. “You best start takin’ care of yourself and button up. You’ll catch your own death if you don’t start lookin’ after yourself.”
Elle smiled. His eyes never once left hers. He wasn’t talking about any coat.
Leaning into Hank’s ear, John whispered, “Ain’t no shame in cryin’ when there’s good reason for it. Believe me, I wish I had the guts.”
Hank’s brow wrinkled. No one heard their new secret and from his reaction, Hank wasn’t sure he had either. “Pa must be losin’ his marbles,” he whispered under his breath.
Evan and Tara waited. They were next. The old man turned, walked five feet, then turned back around. “And as far as you two … you can just wipe the frowns off them faces right now! Take it from your grandma, it’ll all be over ’fore you know it.” He looked back at his wife’s coffin and shook his head. “In the end, all we have is our memories … good or bad … and your attitudes will decide which. You best start puttin’ more effort in.” The sharp words stung like a slap, but getting reacquainted with Grampa John’s penetrating gaze hurt even more. They watched as he trudged through the snow back to the house. Even Three Speed stayed clear of him. Grampa John was back and he was angry.
CHAPTER 7
Grampa John made his daily entry in his journal and turned off the oil lamp. It was nice to revert back to simpler times. Without Alice, though, life was hauntingly lonesome. He imagined, The rest of my short days on earth oughta feel the same. Thinking about Tara and Evan, he quickly got dressed. If I ever learned anything, there ain’t enough time to do the things that count.
It had been years since he’d done it, but the old man finally crossed the creek bridge. He stopped, looked back and shook his head. Now that wasn’t so tough at all, he thought. It had also been forever since he’d been to the old bunkhouse. Before the first knock hit the door, he thought about the time his stubbornness had wasted. “Downright stupid,” he muttered to himself.
Dressed in her flowered housecoat and clearly taken aback by the visit, Elle pulled John in from the cold. He looked around for his son, who was nowhere to be found.
“Oh my goodness!” Elle said excitedly. “Welcome, Pa!”
Lila sprinted from the table and John caught her running. “Grampy Joan,” she yelled and clinged to his neck like a spider monkey. John blew her hair out of his face to get a look around.
Hank and Elle done a fine job with what they had, he thought. They’d converted the long shack into a three-bedroom home. It was humble, but it was comfortable. Straight out of the S & H green stamp catalog, the place was decorated to instill a sense of home. John could feel it. “Hank around?” he asked.
Surprised that he asked, Elle explained, “Sorry, no. He took off early. Said he needed to go for a ride and do some thinking.”
“Don’t it figure,” John said, and then paused for a moment before shaking his head. “It took me how many years to get over that damn bridge and when I finally make it here, my son …”
“Well, it’s not like the toll’s only good for one visit,” Elle teased with a twinkle in her loving eyes.
John grinned at her gentle logic.
Elle put another plate on the table and John joined his grandchildren for some bacon and eggs. There was little talk. Evan looked tired and Tara looked like three steps from the undertaker’s back door. John shook his head, wondering, How on earth did I ever miss it the day they came by to see me at the house? He studied them more. Tara had pretty much dropped off the radar in New York, so her situation was easy enough to figure. But Evan called every week and each conversation was filled with joy and the love he felt for Carley. Until a few weeks ago, John realized.
Two cups of coffee later, John stood and made an announcement that left everyone curious. “Elle, I reckon if you don’t mind lookin’ after the little one, I could use the other two on the farm for a spell. With Alice gone, there’s still a few loose ends that need tightenin’.” He turned to offer a wink. It was for her eyes only. From her grin, he knew she caught it.
Evan and Tara looked at each other but said nothing. Their mother spoke for them. “Pa, I think that’s a great idea. It’ll give me time to get to know Lila.” She shifted her attention to Evan and Tara. “And it’ll give all of you an opportunity to get caught up.”
While Evan and Tara fetched their coats and hats, John grabbed Elle near the kitchen sink. He explained, “Seems like you could use a break and I could use the company. I figured on lettin’ ’em stay on for a few days. There’s a couple things I’d like to look into … maybe get cleared up.”
Elle never questioned it and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Pa.”
The three of them started to leave when John turned back at the door. “Can you please tell my son that I was by to see him?” he asked.
Elle’s smile glowed with joy. “Oh you know I will, Pa,” she promised. “Just as soon as he gets in.”
As the lost sheep wandered through Grampa John’s parlor, Tara paused briefly at the gold beveled mirror that hung above the wood stove. It had been her grandma’s and she’d always loved it as a child. Grampa John walked up from behind and startled her. “That’s the funny thing about these lookin’ glasses,” he said, “they’re hangin’ in so many places that a girl couldn’t get away from ’em if she tried.” As if he were blessing her, he placed his massive hand on top of her head, “And if you gawk in ’em long enough, you might even be shocked to find the truth.”
Tara turned to find her grandfather smiling. Before she knew what she was saying, her confession began to pour out. “I got hooked up with some bad people in
New York, Grampa John,” she said, and couldn’t talk fast enough. “I started drinking and doing …”
The old man placed his index finger to her lips and stopped her from going any further. Revealing his own dark secret, he whispered, “That’s okay, ’cause between you and me, I used to sneak a few belts whenever your grandma wasn’t eyein’ me.”
Tara stood shocked. Grampa John’s reaction to her shameful news was no more than indifference. Catching the sparkle in his soft eyes, she understood. It didn’t matter to him. Grampa John had always loved her without conditions, and he’d forgive her dirty deeds before she ever admitted them. He was never going to judge her. He was only going to love her.
John patted her backside. “There oughta be plenty of time to fill me in on all of it later.” He pointed toward the stairs. “For now, there’s a bed smothered in your grandma’s quilts waitin’ on you. Lila’s in the best hands, so I expect you’ll be gettin’ caught up on the rest you’ve missed since you took off out of here.” Smiling, he bent to kiss her cheek. “Sweet dreams, Miss Tara. We’ll all be here when you get up. You got my word on it.”
Tara felt like she was ten again and it felt good. Even with his wry smile, Grampa John wasn’t asking her to go to bed; he was telling her. Someone finally cares enough to give me some direction, she thought.
Two minutes later, she was lying beneath ten pounds of pretty colors and patterns. She closed her eyes and prayed, Thank you, God, for taking me home. Thank you for Ev and for Grampa John and for … Everything went black. It was time for her body to recharge its battery. She’d been running on empty for months.
Evan chuckled at the simple cleverness of his grandfather. The old man caught it and handed over a piece of teaberry chewing gum. Evan never saw Grampa John chew gum. His dentures would have never allowed it. Still, the old man always had a stick to pass out. Evan accepted the gum, feeling like he, too, was no more than ten years old. Grampa John shrugged. “I reckon it looks like you both lost a little shut-eye out there in the world?”
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