October Snow

by Jenna Brooks

  “I will.” He yawned again as Dave set him on his feet, then Will offered his hand.

  “Good job, Dave. Congratulations. I’ll look after things, no worries.”

  “Thanks, Will. See you in a few days.”

  They hugged Emma, then Sean and Emily. “Don’t worry about Ty. He’ll fall asleep on the way home, I’m sure,” Sean said, winking as he pressed a card into Sam’s hand. “A little something for you. Godspeed, kids,” he said, and his voice caught as he looked at Dave. “Congratulations, son.”

  Dave nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Have a wonderful time,” Emily said, hugging them again. “Go on up there, Sammy. Throw those flowers, and get out of here.”

  She started for the steps, then stopped, looking over her shoulder. Max and Jo were standing quietly off to the side.

  “Wait.” She walked over to them, and the three of them joined hands.

  “Git,” Max said, lightly touching her cheek.

  “And be happy.”

  “Love you guys.” She backed away a few steps, still looking at them, then blew them a kiss before she turned and took Dave’s hand. He raised the other to them in a brief wave, mouthing, “Thank you.”

  They ran up the steps. Sam paused at the top, turning her back to the crowd as they chanted, “One…Two…Three!” She threw the bouquet high over her head, and it seemed to hang in the air for a moment before it dropped directly into Lettie’s waiting hands.

  A barrage of rice followed, amid the laughter–and Lettie’s blushing–as they escaped from the deck through the kitchen. Coming out the front door, they found that half of the guests were waiting there for them, rice in hand. They ran for the car in a second shower of rice, laughter, and good wishes.

  chapter 18

  THEY SAT, EXHAUSTED, at the kitchen table. Jo’s head lay on her folded arms; Max reclined half-asleep in her chair, her feet propped on the table.

  “What time is it?” she muttered.

  Eyes still closed, Jo fumbled for her mug of coffee. “Dunno,” she mumbled. “Maybe midnight.” She lifted her head to take a sip.

  “I’m too tired to get ready for bed.”

  “Yeah.” Daisy was snoring under the table. She coughed once, rolled over, and laid her paw over Jo’s foot.

  Max sat up with a loud yawn, stretching her arms over her head. “But I’ll do it anyway.” She rubbed Jo’s back. “Get up, Bim.”

  “In a minute.”

  She sat that way for a while after Max left, stroking Daisy with her foot, thinking about the wedding. Sam, and Dave and Tyler–a family now, with the difficult past that was now on its way to becoming a wonderful, redemptive future.

  But there was Jack.

  She came fully awake as she thought about the baby Sam carried, the danger that waited if Jack were to find out. She grimaced as the old, familiar pain of her adrenaline shot through her.

  No, he can’t find out.

  Yet, she had a feeling, a nagging thought that had been stalking her for days, waiting for her to take notice. Now, it was trying to work its way to the front of her conscious mind. She got up quickly, pouring the last of her coffee into the sink, and caught her reflection in the window above it.

  He knows.

  “That’s not possible,” she said aloud, staring defiantly at her reflection. Every single person who knew about Sam’s pregnancy was absolutely safe. “Come on, Daisy, bed.”

  Max padded down the stairs in her nightgown as Jo was turning off the lights in the entry. “Now I’m awake again. Figures,” she grumbled. “Thought I’d get some of that cake Mrs. Cannell made.”

  Jo thought that a midnight chat might help relieve her anxiety–the idea of Jack knowing about the baby had ruined sleep for her anyway. “Good idea. I think that catnap gave me enough energy to grab a snack.” She slapped her leg for Daisy to follow them to the kitchen, and the dog sighed, trudging slowly behind them.

  Jo took the cake out of the refrigerator. “Hey, you and Will were pretty chummy there tonight.”

  “Have to tell you, I’m surprised at myself.”

  “Want whipped cream?”

  She nodded. “And before you ask, we don’t need plates.”

  “Wasn’t going to ask. So, tell me.”

  “Will? Not much to tell, really. He’s got the three S’s.” She pulled a candy rose from the plate. “Successful and smart, that’s great. But why single–as in, never married at all–at age forty-three?”

  “I did some investigating for you.”

  Max leaned forward, popping the rose into her mouth. “Tell me,” she mumbled.

  “Dave said that after Will did a long stint in the Air Force, he did meet a girl. Just before he started at BC.” Jo’s expression turned grim. “Her name was Michelle.”

  “And?”

  She sighed. “She died the night he proposed to her. Drunk driver T-boned them at an intersection.” She was absently picking at the cake. “He hit the passenger side so hard, it shoved her into Will’s seat. He heard her take her last breath.”

  Max looked stricken. “Oh,” was all she could manage.

  “Yeah. I know. Dave said after that, Will just kind of threw his life into school, and then his work. He dated a few times, when one of his friends would set him up with someone, but nothing ever really took.”

  Neither spoke for a minute, then Max said, “I thought, with the work he does, that you were going to tell me an old boyfriend got her.”

  “No. But that was the work that Michelle did–social work, I mean. She worked in DV. It was all she cared about, really. He decided to carry that torch for her, and then once he got into it, it became his passion, too.”

  Max wondered how people survived so much, and were still able to find things to be passionate about. She looked sadly at Jo. “I could seriously cry.”

  “Must mean you care about the guy, huh?”

  “Don’t be annoying. Eat some cake.”

  “Now who’s deflecting?”

  “That would be me.”

  Jo looked at her expectantly.

  “Let me process. I’ll talk about it later.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” Through a mouthful of cake, she asked, “Just generally speaking…”

  “You’re spitting crumbs all over the table.”

  “Whatever. What do you think about marriage?”

  “After today? It should be a felony.”

  Jo laughed out loud. “Copy that.”

  “For me? Marriage? Good grief, I’m almost to menopause, Jo.”

  “You’re right. You can’t fall in love after forty-five.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, actually, I don’t.”

  “Okay, well, what about that? You never even date.” She studied her, thinking about it. “I’ve never even seen you with a man. You never go out, do you?”

  “Not on dates. But unlike you, I’ve got solid reasons.”

  “Biblical mandate.” Max raised one eyebrow. “Right?”

  “I need to keep in mind, you’re a pastor’s kid.”

  “First Corinthians.”

  “Yup.”

  “You don’t buy the Exception Clause argument?”

  “No. Adultery, as it’s used there, refers to the engagement period. Not after the marriage. Once it happens, it’s permanent.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that.” She slid a candy rose to Jo’s side of the plate. “To be honest, I think I agree, actually.” She grinned. “You wouldn’t believe some of the remarriage rationalizations I’ve heard from church people.” She reached for another bite. “So that’s why you never hooked up again?”

  Jo nodded.

  “Has it been hard?”

  “Of course.” She put her fork on the plate. “I’m getting a sugar high.”

  “What’s been the worst of it?”

  Jo first impulse was to tell her to back off; but then, remembering the night when she had hurt Max so badly, she decided to answer. “I had h
oped to die of a broken heart.”

  Max sat back, her expression a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. “This should be good.”

  “I wanted to be so in love that losing my husband would be it for me. Can you imagine how rich a life like that would be?”

  “No. I can’t.”

  “My mom died of a broken heart, you know. She and my dad were almost like one person, and she couldn’t make it without him. Nothing mattered to her after he was gone.” She became distant, sad in a quiet, resigned way–an affect that Max had never seen on her before. “She tried, but she just was never the same. It was…I don’t know, I wish I could have been with her more then.” She looked away. “Keith, once he took me away, he never let me go back. I talked to her on the phone, but…”

  Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Max again. “It snowed the day I got the call from my sister, that Mom was gone. We were in Colorado then, and it was October second–and it snowed a ton. And there were these heavy, wet mounds of snow on the trees–a lot of them were still green, and the rest were at their peak. And it was just so unnatural, it was mind-bending.”

  Max watched her, listening carefully. “Everything that day seemed unnatural, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah. Some things, they’re like…They’re so unnatural, they just shouldn’t be.” She looked to Max, waiting to see if she understood.

  “I know.”

  “Then you have people like Sammy and Dave, and Tyler–things were right today.” She spoke in almost a pleading tone; then, she was deep in thought for a moment. “They can’t be torn apart, Max. I can’t let him do that.”

  “Jack.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You think he found out, don’t you?”

  Jo’s eyes narrowed; she was caught off-guard. “Wow. How’d you know that?”

  “I know you.”

  “They need to be protected, whatever it takes.”

  Max frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. It was right, what happened here today. There’s so little beauty left in the world. That despicable…that…Jack–he can’t be allowed to take a blowtorch to what happened today.” She nodded as if she was answering herself, and Max could see she was resolved. “I won’t let him.”

  They finally went to bed just after two o’clock. Jo checked her cell–there were a few missed calls and a couple of messages, the first one from John:

  “Mom, hi–I’m just checking on you. Your neighbor said you left for the summer. Leave me a message if you call and I don’t answer, okay? Let me know you’re all right.” He paused, then hung up.

  She was going to save the message; then at the last moment, she deleted it. When she called him back, his phone went directly to his voicemail.

  “Hi, Johnny. I got your message.” She was suddenly stuck, not knowing what to say next. “I love you.” She paused again, and added, “Don’t worry, I’m just fine. Talk to you soon.” She hung up, thinking she should have told him more about what she was doing, but deciding he wouldn’t be interested anyway.

  The next message was from Joey Derosa. “Hey, kid–it’s Joey. Wanted to give you a heads-up on Seever: he got a slap on the wrist from Schultz. Walked out of the hearing with the charges on the shelf, and a few hundred bucks in court costs. Yeah, I know, but that’s Schultz for you. Hope all’s well. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Figures.” She erased the message, and laid down with Daisy curled up beside her. They fell asleep immediately.

  At some point during the night, she felt Daisy wedge herself tight against her. She dreamed that Daisy was running along the edge of the lake, young and strong again, barking for her to throw the yellow ball.

  John and Matt were suddenly there, standing on the deck above her, watching as Jo tossed the ball underhand. It went ridiculously, impossibly high into the sky–where suddenly, it became a bouquet of roses. Daisy leaped and caught it in midair, then galloped away across the lake, stopping once to look back at Jo. Her tail wagged joyously; and then, everything was bathed in an electric aura.

  She looked to her sons, lowering her head in shame, starting to cry.

  Matt and John were glaring at her.

  “She’s gone.” Matt’s voice dripped with contempt.

  Jo shook her head. But I didn’t know.

  Her sons walked away, disgusted, and then they vanished.

  Where are you? she screamed.

  “Jo!” Max was shaking her. “Jo, wake up!”

  She sat up, looking blearily at Max.

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “You were screaming, honey. Are you okay?”

  With sudden, perfect calm, Jo said, “Turn on the light, Maxine.” She put her hand out to the side, on Daisy’s chest, waiting for the breath that didn’t come. As the light flooded the room, she looked down at her: her lips were pulled back in a grimace. Her teeth were showing, and her eyes were open and glassy.

  Max gasped.

  “Oh.” Jo’s voice was monotone. “Daisy.”

  They buried her beside Lady the next morning. Jo put the yellow ball between her paws, then made a small cross from two twigs and some yellow ribbon that was left from the wedding. “Wait,” she said as Max reached for the shovel; she placed the cross on Daisy’s side.

  “Go wait on the deck, Jo. I’ll finish.” She picked up the shovel.

  “Okay…Wait,” she said again. With a vacant expression, she asked, “Did you check her carefully?”

  “I did. She’s gone, honey.”

  Jo looked down at her, wondering if she might give a signal of some kind. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She wanted, badly, to hug her friend, but she knew not to. Not now. “Go on, Jo, and let me do this.”

  Gazing into the grave, she whispered, “Goodbye, baby,” so softly that Max barely heard it. She put a hand on Jo’s shoulder as she walked past her to the house.

  Max hadn’t deliberately talked to God in many years, but decided it was a good time to start. As she finished burying Jo’s only remaining tether, she sank beside the grave and dissolved into tears.

  Jo called John first. Again, his phone went straight to voicemail. Not wanting to leave a message with such terrible news, she simply asked him to call as soon as he could. Then she called Matt.

  He picked up on the eighth ring.

  “Mom,” he said curtly.

  Jo, in her grief, and in trying to stay strong for him, didn’t notice his icy tone. “Honey, I have bad news.”

  Matt waited silently.

  “Daisy died late last night.”

  “Oh, Mom …Oh no…” He sounded shocked, strained with grief; then, she heard someone whispering. “Daisy died,” he said to whoever was with him.

  She heard muttering in the background, then Matt said, his voice now completely level, “Did she really die, Mom?”

  The question stunned her. “Yes, Matt. Last night.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I’m…pretty sure it was a heart attack.”

  More whispering, then, “Have you told John?”

  “I can’t reach him. Would you ask him to call me if you see him?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I know it hurts.” Her stomach was knotting up. She felt like a total stranger to him.

  “I’ll be fine. You got my messages?”

  “Yes…”

  “Then I hope I’ll be talking to you soon.” The line went dead.

  Jo stared blindly at the phone. The pain in her stomach flared into rage.

  “Jo?” Max was coming up the steps to the deck, taken aback by Jo’s ashen face. “What happened?”

  “I told Matt.”

  “How is he?”

  “Fine. Keith and Shelly were there.”

  Terrific. “Oh.”

  She got up then, leaning her hands on the railing, looking out over the lake. She thought–she knew, actually–that she saw Daisy running out there, and she smiled softly as the pain in her s
tomach subsided. “Thank you for taking over.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re going to miss her, too.”

  Max bit her lip, then whispered, “Yeah.”

  “I’ll gather her things. It’s going to be hard enough, without having them around to remind us.”

  In the days that followed, Max watched her grieve; but it was an odd, strangely quiet–almost content–place that Jo had gone into. One where Max couldn’t join her, which she suspected was Jo’s preference.

  She was sensitive to Max, though, and attentive. Jo hadn’t gone the way of retreating; if anything, she was more loving than Max had ever known her to be. Jo had even comforted her, both times that Max broke down and cried.

  And it was unnerving. It was frightening, Max thought. “It’s like she’s made her peace,” Sam had said, and the words echoed in Max’s head.

  They went to Marcia’s on Tuesday morning. Gabe paid for their meals–Lettie had told him about Daisy. “I’m just so sorry, Jo. I really am,” he said, and he patted her on the shoulder.

  The clouds were thickening as they left the diner. “Let’s go to Hampton,” Max said.

  “Sure.”

  Max was surprised to feel a rush of disappointment. She realized she had been hoping that Jo, hating the ocean, would protest. She would have given anything for some sign of life in her.

  The beach was almost deserted, with the weather suddenly chilly and the skies dark gray, and the holiday weekend over. They laid a tattered blue blanket on the sand.

  “Got change for a nickel? I don’t have a penny,” Max said, watching Jo gaze silently at the water.

  She smiled. “I was thinking about a story about starfish.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a woman walking on the beach, throwing the marooned starfish back into the ocean, one by one. Some other woman comes by, and asks her why–with thousands of starfish on the sand–she bothers to save any of them, since she can’t save all of them, you know?” She drew her legs up, hugging them. “The woman says, ‘No, I can’t save them all,’ and she throws another one in, and says, ‘but I can save this one…And this one…’”

  “Nice story.”

  Jo shrugged.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Well, I guess we could go save a hundred starfish right now.”