by David Lewis
“She’s slipping away,” Tammy quietly announced. “It won’t be long now.” Jessie silently prepared herself for the actual moment.
When Olivia opened her eyes, Jessie wasn’t expecting it. In fact, she had been leaning over in her chair, holding her mother’s hand to her face, eyes closed.
It was Tammy who spoke first. “Jessie …”
When Jessie looked up, her mother’s eyes smiled.
“Mom?”
Olivia nodded slightly.
“Do you know me?”
Another weak nod. Jessie looked up at Tammy, who seemed stunned. “Please get my grandmother,” she whispered urgently.
Tammy blinked. “Of course, I’m sorry.” And the nurse rushed out the door.
With much effort, Olivia swallowed and her mouth opened, but only jagged breathing emerged. Her mother’s lips formed the silent words, “My butterfly girl …” and Jessie’s heart leapt within her.
Her mother’s gaze took in Jessie’s now-grown form and her eyes shone. She shook her head from side to side, so subtly it was almost imperceptible. She seemed to be imbued with a sense of awe, and it struck Jessie as impossible to imagine—to go to sleep one day when your daughter is a young girl and wake up the next and she’s twenty-four. Then her mother lifted her hand an inch off the bed.
Jessie took her hand in both of her own and began speaking. The words caught in her throat at first, but she forced her way through, not caring whether she was making sense or not. Jessie began to reiterate much of what she had shared earlier, before Mom had awakened. And her mother was nodding slightly.
A few moments passed and Jessie looked over her shoulder and saw Grandmother coming into the room, her face ashen, ravaged with raw grief. When Olivia saw her, she smiled again, extending her hand ever so slightly.
Doris’s reluctance disappeared, and she rushed to her daughter’s side.
Jessie kissed her mother’s hand again and quietly excused herself, over her grandmother’s objections.
“Grandmother, this is your time,” she said.
Jessie closed the door behind her and leaned back against it. A sense of pure, unmitigated peace washed over her again. When she opened her eyes, Bill was standing by the wall, his posture hesitant, cowboy hat in his hands, his eyes lingering on the floor. Good ol’ Bill, too polite to wear a hat in the nursing home.
He wasn’t ready for her, but his arms opened quickly enough when he realized she was hugging him.
A few minutes later, Grandmother peeked out the door, looking much better than when she’d walked in. She gestured for Jessie, who quickly slipped back into the room. Mom’s eyes were still open and she looked at the two of them together—grandmother and granddaughter—and smiled her widest smile yet.
Soon she fell asleep again. Grandmother was still on one side of the bed holding Mom’s hand, Jessie doing the same on the other side. Tammy came in with another nurse and checked the monitor reading. The moment of passing was imminent.
Her mother opened her eyes one last time, and Jessie reached over and stroked her hollow cheek.
When her breathing stopped, the nurse quietly announced, “She’s gone.”
It was eleven o’clock when they left the room, both exhausted in body and grieved in their hearts. In the hallway, before they began what seemed to be a long walk to the car, Grandmother touched Jessie’s arm, her face a mixture of torture and hope, her eyes burning a hole through Jessie’s soul. Grandmother looked away, but Jessie reached back and linked her arm through her grandmother’s. Their eyes met again, and great understanding passed between them. Although words would one day be spoken, for now, their mutual heartache was more than enough.
Epilogue
THE DEAD OF WINTER. Jessie made her way to the Oregon coast at last, courtesy of a round-trip ticket, a gift from her grandmother. She stood on the rocks as twilight fell—warm coat clutched around her, waves crashing at her feet, the bluster of a cold, moist wind pummeling her—thanking God that she hadn’t chosen to continue driving straight west those many months ago. A lifetime ago, she thought with a shake of her head.
This will all pass away, she thought, peering into the eternity of the waves, listening to the mournful cry of the sea birds as if they were longing for the day when redemption would touch every living thing.
The sun fell quickly as she sank to the edge of a mossy rock and, mindful of the sea birds, carefully avoided anything that seemed to be more than moss or rock. She thought of Bill and his ragged good-bye at the airport and her grandmother’s curt response.
“Oh, for pete’s sake, Bill. Can’t you handle her being gone for one week?”
“You should always say good-bye as if you’ll never see them again.”
“Oh, for pete’s sake.”
“I’ll be back soon,” Jessie encouraged, struggling with her own composure.
“Not soon enough,” Bill had replied, blinking away tears.
Jessie could hardly believe how close she now felt to both Bill and her grandmother. Bill had once said, “That’s what happens after people air their differences. They become friends.” At the time Jessie had decided a relationship with Grandmother was impossible and had said so. But she was so wrong.
After her mother’s bittersweet death, a renewed wave of anger had tried to erode the fragile bond between Jessie and her grandmother. The more Jessie thought about all the years she had missed with her mother, the more the bitterness grew. Grandmother should have told the truth, like Jessie’s dreams had tried to do for so long. Yes, she understood her grandmother’s initial reasoning for the secret, but as time wore on and her mother continued to live, Doris should have put aside her fear of self-incrimination and revealed the facts. Jessie knew she had shared in the guilt—the unopened letters and unreturned phone calls—but her grandmother could have found a way to make her listen.
So finally Jessie took Bill’s advice and confronted her grandmother. “You should have found me and stood under my window and screamed at the top of your lungs or-or … written it in the sky, ‘Your mother is alive!’ Or something. Anything! You should have told me!”
“I know. You’re right,” her grandmother whispered, head lowered, voice broken. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
Her remorse was thorough, so painfully clear, that Jessie chose to forgive her grandmother, and she also watched her grandmother eventually be able to forgive herself. Bill was right. Sometimes strong words do lead to strong relationships.
As time passed, Jessie began to feel more rested. Sleeping through the night was effortless, and except for the single dream she’d had a few nights after her mother’s passing, the past few months had been virtually dream free. In her final dream, her mother came to tuck her in again, like old times. Winnie the Pooh was back and Tigger, too.
In the dream her mother’s beautiful silhouette was illuminated from the hall light, and once again she was the essence of youth and vitality. True youth is beyond the grave, Jessie thought, and her mother, wearing the same sundress, pulled up the covers. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“I can’t wait,” Jessie replied, breathing in her mother’s gentle and sweet fragrance.
Mom leaned over and wiggled her nose on Jessie’s nose.
“That tickles,” Jessie squealed, and then she played dumb.
“So … where are we going again?”
“Silly …” Her mother tickled her again and Jessie squirmed happily.
“The park?”
“I can’t wait to swing on the swings,” her mother confided mischievously.
“Is Dad coming?” Jessie asked suddenly, and her mother’s nod surprised her.
“He’ll really be there?”
“You’ll see.”
“Can Andy go along?” She was pushing her luck.
Mom patted her face. “Of course he can.”
“I’ll ask him.”
“You do that, sweetie.”
They talked for a long time, but in some ways
it felt like only minutes. In other ways, it seemed as if a lifetime passed—although it didn’t matter because her mother was never in a rush.
When Olivia gave her a final kiss, Jessie grabbed her mother’s neck. Olivia sighed happily, “Oooh, sweetie, you’re strong.”
Gently Jessie pulled her mother even closer. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Mom?” Her mother gave her a knowing wink. “Not enough, sweetie.”
When her mother finally headed for the door, Jessie saw her father in the shadows and was startled again. She pulled her hand out from beneath the covers and waved. “Good night, Dad.” He waved back, and she was sure that he smiled, and she thought she might have seen a twinkle in his eyes. Strange. She’d never seen it before.
In December Laura’s mother was picked up for DUI, and her car was searched. Finally busted, Michelle was arraigned on charges of drug possession, and Laura was handed over to the state for foster care.
Jessie discussed an idea with Bill and her grandmother. They agreed it was worth the risk, although it was understood that Jessie would be forging a very important relationship just at a time when her own future was in question. But Jessie, and indeed all of them, had learned an important truth, that all we have are moments anyway, and we must live them to the fullest … with heartfelt courage.
Jessie petitioned the court for immediate temporary custody, and it was granted. A few weeks after that she was approved as a foster parent. At first, the sense of responsibility was overwhelming, but the memory of her mother’s example became a source of encouragement. She knew it wouldn’t be easy raising Laura, considering her background, but as Andy had once told her, “Nothing easy is worthwhile anyway.”
In October, Jessie had finally sat down with Dr. Sawyer to hear the results of her blood test. The diagnosis confirmed her worst suspicions … she tested positive as a carrier. Her grandmother took it the hardest, and Bill was worried sick, but they had to face the facts—no one really knew how much time she had. After all, her grandfather hadn’t exhibited any symptoms until a few months before he suffered a stroke and died at the age of fifty. No one could seem to agree on whether Jessie was already manifesting symptoms.
“We’ll have to wait and see,” the doctor had finally told her.
“It’s just a roll of the dice,” Bill muttered.
I’ll live every day I have to the fullest, Jessie decided when she’d finally recovered from the painful blow. And I’ll live for the Lord … like my mother did.
Her mother’s Prince of Peace had become Jessie’s Lord of Life. With her newfound joy in God, every scent was sweeter, every sunrise brighter, every taste more delicious. The small things of life remained minute, and the large worries and frustrations were handled with newfound perspective.
Jessie looked out across the ocean. In spite of the growing cold and the buffeting wind, she was reluctant to leave. When the sunset reached its full glory, with oranges and yellows and reds painted across the sky as if just for her, she thought of the ordeals she’d encountered to get to this point. I might have missed out, she thought, shuddering.
When he came up behind her, she accepted the warmth of his sheltering arms and felt the last remnants of loneliness flicker away. He held her tightly, his chin on her shoulder, his warm cheek against hers. She sighed with relief.
“So this is your paradise?”
“It is now,” she chuckled, pulling him closer.
“It’s fantastic,” Andy observed, tipping his chin toward the sunset. “But we have sunsets in Colorado, you know.”
“Are you sorry you came?” Jessie asked, smiling.
“Are you kidding?” he said. “I’d follow you to Siberia.”
“This isn’t Siberia.”
“Feels like it. It’s pretty cold.”
She wrestled his arm playfully but laughed when he nuzzled his nose into her neck.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Andy whispered into her ear.
“Not enough,” she replied.
“Isn’t that the truth?” Andy said, launching in with another tidbit from his overactive mind. “The feeling of every good relationship on earth is that it’s not enough. Every joy reminds us—”
Jessie turned and put a finger to his lips. “Enough of that thinking stuff. Just hush and kiss me.”
“Ahhh, the kiss,” he said as if pondering it. “The true meaning of life. The noble pursuit. The symbol of life-giving breath!”
“Andy, so help me—”
But when he did kiss her, it was enough to make her forget his penchant for overanalysis. When they settled back down on the rocks again, his arms warmed her from the descending temperatures, making the sunset all the more glorious.
“Did you just say you’d follow me to Siberia?”
“I knew this was coming.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then you wouldn’t mind”—she was fingering her new wedding ring as she said it—“if we declared country music the official music of our household.”
“Siberia is sounding better all the time.”
“Don’t worry, we can take it slow,” Jessie assured him. “We’ll start with crossover. A little Shania, a little Faith … go from there.”
Andy made a face. “You mean like boiling a frog? Raising the temperature by little increments so the frog doesn’t realize it until it’s too late?”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind.” Jessie laughed. “Before we know it, you’ll be singing, ‘I hear that train a-comin’.”’
“Or praying for the rocks to cover me.”
“You won’t know what hit you.”
“What if I never make the leap?”
She sighed. “Then I’ll have no choice but to love you anyway.”
“That’s awful ‘country’ of you,” Andy replied, and they laughed.
They joined hands and prayed, praising God for the beauty of His creation and thanking Him for each other.
After savoring a final sweeping look at the ocean, they navigated back over the rocks and trudged through the sand, back to their suite at a fine hotel, another wedding gift from Grandmother and Bill.
Bill had been deeply moved when Jessie had asked him to give her away. Her revitalized grandmother had thrown her all into planning the ceremony, albeit a rather modest one, according to Jessie’s wishes. As a final gift, Doris and Bill had insisted on keeping Laura with them so Jessie and Andy could spend their honeymoon alone. When the newlyweds returned to Palmer Lake in a few days, they would be moving into Jessie’s family home, where, with dear Laura, they would begin a new life, and a new family, together.
Of course, neither knew exactly what their future held or how long they would have together—but who does anyway? They had each other and they had their family, but most importantly they had a faith, new and fragile though it was, like a rosebud in springtime.
No matter what happened, no matter the suffering or disappointment, their ultimate purpose was to travel with hope and courage, and to be ready—whenever the time came—for Jesus to call them home.
About the Author
DAVID LEWIS is the collaborating author of the bestselling novel Sanctuary, with his wife. An accomplished keyboard artist and former piano instructor, he is an avid reader of fiction and a student of apologetics. Born in Minnesota and raised in the Midwest, Dave enjoys early-morning jogs and vacations along Oregon’s coastline, as well as travels to New England. He and Beverly make their home in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to David Horton and Julie Klassen for their keen editorial insight. I’m also grateful to Gary and Carol Johnson for believing in this story from its inception, and special appreciation goes to Barbara Lilland. Thanks to Janie and Jonathan for filling our days with laughter and warmth, and to Julie and Ariel for providing the spark that ultimately led to the title.
Most importantly, I wish to thank my dearling, Beverly Lewis, for her love, prayers, and everl
asting support. As Vanauken once said (A Severe Mercy), “If it’s half as good as the half we’ve known, here’s Hail! to the rest of the road!”
