by Linda Apple
Molly Kate set her glass down. “Stop. I’m getting a sugar rush just listening to you.”
I rested my glass against my lips and thought some more. “The only light I’d have would be this fireplace and, of course, the candles. Then, at the moment of the announcement of being husband and wife, there would be fireworks right outside those windows. Then everyone would dance to Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Dean Martin.” I snapped my fingers. “And while I’m dreaming, I want snow. Like what you had, Jema. Not a storm, just a kiss of downy flakes.”
Lexi moaned. “That sounds so wonderful.”
“It does.” Jema reached for a cannoli. “It really does.”
The bubble bath memory rose to my mind. “Well, girls. I have a date with the bathtub.” I stood and stretched. “See you in the morning bright and early. Jema? What time do we leave for the airport?”
“Six o’clock” She rose from her chair. “I guess we should all get a few hours in.”
Molly Kate and Lexi started picking up dishes, but Jema spoke up. “Don’t bother with all of this. I’ll give Carina a nice bonus for her extra trouble. Y’all head on to bed and get some rest.”
“Okay. Night, everyone.” I blew a kiss and trudged up the stairs to my date with the bubbles.
****
My phone alarm drew me from a deep sleep. Groaning, I rolled over to check the time. Five. The bed held me like a lover, and I couldn’t gather enough will to pull myself from its warm embrace. However, fifteen minutes later, I extracted myself from the soft sheets. The room was dark and chilly. Yet something about it brought about a sense of peace. I stepped to the window to view the blue precursor of dawn backlighting the mountains. Stars still glittered in the lapis sky high above the earth. The windowsill was deep and I leaned against it to take in the quiet beauty of the morning. When I laid my hand on the cold stone, I felt something. A scrap of paper with something written on it. The room was too dark to read the writing, but I was curious. In the bathroom, I flipped on the light and read, Don’t give up on us.
Strange. I wondered who could have written this. Did someone write to Carina? As far as I knew, she was the only one who would have been in here. Surely, Jema and Levi weren’t having trouble. I tossed the scrap in the trash and hoped that whomever this was written to would not give up.
The promise of the luscious coffee I had the previous morning helped me dress and pack in a hurry. I padded down the marble staircase, feeling like a princess, and left my bags at the door. The terrace room had a roaring fire, pots of coffee on a cart along with apple-raisin strudel, ciabatta with mascarpone, and brioche with honeyed butter.
“Would you look at that?” Lexi strode into the room. “Lord, I’d weigh five-hundred pounds if I lived here.” She stood next to me and poured her coffee. “Where’s MK? Are we leaving soon?”
“I don’t know. I just walked in here myself.” I bit into the brioche and groaned. Nothing I had ever tasted in the states could even come close to comparing with this. I broke it in half and slathered it with butter. “She is probably badgering poor Lillianna for her recipes. I hope she gets the one for this brioche.”
“Morning.” Jema entered the room followed by Molly Kate.
“Sleep well, Molly Kate?” I buttered the other half of my brioche.
“If my bed had been any more comfortable, I would have been tempted to leave Stan and move here.”
Jema forced a smile, but a sheen shimmered in her eyes. “Lord, I’m going to miss you girls.”
Lexi was the first to bundle Jema in a tight squeeze. “We’ll be right back, sugar, so get ready, you hear?” And be sure to send Sal and Luca. They may be married, but they are mighty fine to look at.”
“Oh, they are flying with you back to the states, so look all you want.”
We took turns loving on Jema, when I noticed the driver picking up our bags. “Where’s your other bag, Lex?”
“I didn’t need it after all. But, since I’m coming back, I might want to shop and actually buy something. So I’m leaving it here.”
I smirked. “Told ya you wouldn’t need it.”
“Oh, hush.” Lexi finished her coffee. “Jems, do you have to-go cups?”
“Waiting for you in the car.” She hugged each of us then stepped back. “Levi said to tell you goodbye. He’s still asleep.”
“Tell him the same.” I hugged her once more, then walked to the car. As promised, three cups of hot coffee waited on us. Once settled, I glanced out the window at Jema. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin. God love her. Even in the best surroundings, we girls still needed each other.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The dungeon of bitterness and unforgiveness only shackles the bearer.
~Avalee Preston
Leave it to Lexi to distract me from dark thoughts. During our flight home, we were all entertained watching her flirt with Luca and Sal. How did she do it? Even if I weren’t struggling over my loss of Ty, I still wouldn’t have the ability to tease like that little redheaded vixen. The fellows seemed to enjoy her as much as she did them. But enough was enough, and I was ready for the peace of my home to gather my thoughts, make a plan, and get on with life—again.
When I walked through the door I found Momma in the kitchen. She had turnip greens cooking, fried chicken in the warming tray, and banana pudding cooling on the counter. It all smelled delicious, and it sent a message. Welcome home.
“Hi, Momma.” I set my bag down and hurried to her for a hug.
“Glad you are home, baby. Now sit yourself down and have some supper.”
“I’m not really hungry. All we did while we were there was eat.”
“Uh huh,” Momma mumbled while she fixed my plate. “Then eat what you can.”
I took a bite of turnip greens cooked with bits of ham. Luscious. Before I knew it, my hunger blossomed and I ate with what we call a coming appetite.
While we ate, she caught me up on the past two days. Then, as nonchalantly as if she were speaking of the weather, said, “Ty stopped by.”
I set my fork down. “He’s home?”
“He came back for a day. He’s gone now. I can’t remember where he said he was going.” She shook her head. “I vow I can’t remember a thing these days.”
“Why did he come home?”
“Emma. She developed a nasty cough and went to the doctor last week. He saw a new spot on her lung. She called Glen and he contacted Ty. So I guess the day you flew to Italy, he flew here.” Momma stood. “Banana pudding?”
“Yes, that sounds good. I wonder why he didn’t stay longer?”
“He said something about having the assignment of a lifetime, and he had to get ready for it.”
The assignment of a lifetime. So he finally realized his career had to take first place in his life. I was right after all. Momma set a heaping bowl of pudding in front of me, and I ate every bite.
“By the way.” Momma pointed her spoon at me. “Emma wants you to call her.”
“Oh, great.” Emma Jackson was the last person I wanted to see. I didn’t want to endure her catty triumph.
“Now, baby. Have some compassion. The woman is sick and wants to see you.”
“I don’t think she has a compassionate bone in her body.”
“Don’t be that way, sugar. Give her a call and go see her.” Momma’s chair scraped the floor when she stood. “Now go in the family room and I’ll bring coffee. I want to hear all about Jema and Levi.”
“That I can do. But let me help you in the kitchen first.”
“Nope. My domain. Now get your fanny out of here.”
I didn’t argue. It was good to hear her say that. She was returning to her old self, except now she was healthy. Momma was on the mend.
****
It took me two weeks to work up a grain of compassion for Emma and call her. Everything inside me screamed to forget her. To leave things as they were. To not wake the slumbering beast. But I’d made Mom a promise.
Af
ter the first ring, Emma’s housekeeper, Doris, answered the phone.
“Jackson residence.”
“Hi, Doris. It’s Avalee.”
“Hello, dear. How are you?”
“Fine. I’m calling because I was told Emma wants to see me.”
“That’s right. She does.”
I hesitated. “So, Doris, do you know anything about this?”
“This afternoon will be fine.”
“Excuse me?”
“An hour? All righty then. We will see you in an hour.”
“Doris?”
The next thing I heard was a click. That was a strange conversation. Emma must have been listening. An hour? I needed more time to emotionally prepare myself. But, on the other hand, I might as well get this over instead of worrying about it. I decided I’d walk to the Jackson home. At least I could clear my head a bit. Momma was somewhere with Felix, so I scribbled a note before I left.
The cool fall air bordered on cold, but it felt exhilarating. I fell into an easy stride and began pondering on how to handle Ty’s mother. Momma said to have compassion. Only problem is Emma Jackson ate compassion like my pet hamster used to eat her young.
Memories of how she treated me when I dated Marc, her lambasting me at his funeral, and the beyond hurtful things she said to me while Ty and I were engaged fueled my anger. Before I knew it, my pace had picked up and my hands tightened into fists as I swung them back and forth propelling my body. And then, before I knew it, my foot rolled on a rock and I face-planted in someone’s yard. Embarrassed, I scrambled up and spit grass out of my mouth while looking around to see if anyone had seen me. I ran my hand over my face to check for scratches and didn’t feel anything. The only thing hurt was my ankle. I hobbled on. Each painful step reminded me I was no better than Emma. The only difference was I had a filter and she didn’t. I could hide my emotions; she chose to show them. But the same thoughts, the same anger, the same unforgiveness resided in us both.
How was I any better? I thought about a blog I’d recently read where the author wrote about his childhood. He was raised in poverty and yet even as a small child he had great ambition for his future. He had a teacher who shamed his aspirations and often humiliated him in front of his classmates. When this man was grown, and very successful, he had an amazing observation about people like his teacher. He realized we all carry burdens and advised patience because no one knows the burdens others carry. Sad thing was, I knew about Emma Jackson’s burdens. She had plenty and I had no compassion or patience.
I stopped at a nearby bench to rub my ankle. While I rested, I made peace in my mind with Emma and myself. It was time to let it go. When I stood to walk, my ankle throbbed. A painful reminder of how bitterness affects the soul. Agony must have etched my face, because when Doris answered the door she put her hand to her breast. “My dear, what happened?”
“Oh, silly me. I decided to walk and twisted my ankle on the way.”
She took my arm and placed it over her shoulder. “You walked?” Encircling her arm around my waist, she led me to a chair and picked my foot up to set it on the coffee table.
I jerked my leg back. “Don’t do that. Mrs. Jackson will have a fit.”
“No, she won’t.” Emma had walked up behind me. “What happened here?”
“Miss Preston twisted her ankle.” Doris straightened.
“Go get Mr. Jackson. He will know what to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Doris winked at me and hurried off.
Without a word Emma sat in the chair beside me. An uncomfortable silence hung between us. Then Emma shifted around in her chair and faced me.. “Avalee, I owe you an apology. In fact, I owe you numerous apologies. Too many to count.” A fit of coughing overtook her. She pulled a hanky from her pocket and covered her mouth until it subsided.
I couldn’t speak. Only stare.
“Would you forgive this old woman for the years of pain I brought you and the hateful foolishness I’ve spewed?”
Who was this woman sitting next to me? Her short-cropped white hair framed a softly folded face. Her blue eyes had lost their sharpness; now they were like reflecting pools.
“Only on one condition.”
Emma held her head erect. “What would that condition be?”
“If you will also forgive me.”
She lowered her chin and gazed up at me. “Oh my dear, there is little to forgive. But yes.” Laying her hand on mine, she leaned forward and her voice dropped to an earnest plea. “Let’s start anew. Shall we?”
Mr. Jackson entered the room. “Where’s the patient?” He carried a pillow and ice pack.
“She’s right here.” Mrs. Jackson signaled Doris. “How about a pot of tea and some of those lovely shortbread cookies you made this morning?”
“Coming right up.” Doris’ delight was unmistakable. What had brought about this amazing transformation?
When Mr. Jackson finished with my ankle, he walked to the bookshelf. When he returned, he laid several magazines on my lap with bright adhesive strips flagging something inside them. “These magazines have our son’s photos in them.”
Emma picked one of them up and opened it to a touching scene of African children dancing around a new well. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she handed it to me. “I had no idea our son was so talented or involved with something so important. I must have gone through his entire life blind.”
Mr. Jackson beamed as he held up a copy of The New Yorker. “The boys at the club were certainly impressed. There are even pictures of our town in this.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought our boy would put Moonlight on the map?”
The phrase, mission accomplished, came to my mind. Finally, Ty was his own man in his parents’ eyes. “He has amazing talent. But even more so, he is an amazing person.”
Mrs. Jackson covered her mouth, and then let her hand drop. “Avalee, honey, we owe all of this to you. You were the only one who understood his potential.”
Mr. Jackson cleared his throat. “And, our son told us the reason you broke up with him was to get out of his way.” He looked down at his lap and cleared his throat again, then peered at me over his wire-framed glasses. “You, my dear, are also an amazing person.”
I was flabbergasted. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. Finally, I whispered, “Thank you.”
Doris brought our tea and cookies and quickly left. No doubt, she was around the corner listening to every word.
Emma poured our tea and then lifted her cup to her lips. When she set it back on the saucer in her lap, she said in a quiet voice, “I suppose you know about my recurrence.”
I nodded.
“Ah’ve decided against treatment. Only comfort care.” When I opened my mouth to speak, she held her hand up. “Glen called Tyler because I wanted to talk with him about my decision face-to-face. When he came home, he brought us these magazines. And that was when I realized what I had done to that boy. He was so timid. Almost afraid to show me.” She ran her finger under her eye. “I saw my little boy trying to win my approval. All these years ah’d hardened myself, because I couldn’t face loss again. And in doing so, I nearly lost my other child anyway. And then….”
She ran her hand over the magazine in her lap. “And then I saw his work. Important work. Something that will touch millions of hearts, I finally grasped what he’d been trying to tell me for so many years.” Without looking up, she said in a trembling voice, “And now that we’ve finally found each other, ah’m dying.” She brought her hanky to her nose and looked up. “But at least we made our peace before he left.”
Mr. Jackson rose and stepped behind Emma’s chair. “He has invited us on a Christmas cruise. He said it is his gift to us.”
“That’s wonderful.” And it was, sort of. Momma and I would spend a quiet holiday at home where I could disappear until it passed and not have to feign happiness. I set my cup down. “Thank you both so much. And I want you to know I’m here for you.” I pulled myself
up to a wobbly stand. “I guess I’d better be on my way for now.”
“Not on that foot you aren’t.” Mr. Jackson walked to the coat closet. “I’m taking you home.”
I didn’t even try to argue. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He helped me to the door and Mrs. Jackson followed. She patted me on the cheek. “We appreciate you, Avalee.”
On the way home, I wondered why Ty hadn’t written me about this change of heart in his parents? After all, it was monumental. Further proof he had moved on. Now I truly understood the feeling of bittersweet.
****
I didn’t mean to be a Scrooge, but I was relieved when Molly Kate decided against hosting a Christmas party. The B & B’s guests had left and since MK and Stan were going to Italy, they decided to take her daughter and granddaughters to visit his kids for the holidays.
Ty finally emailed me about his visit home with his parents. I wrote back, and he replied. We were back to our familiar and friendly communication, if not loving. He looked forward to the cruise and spending quality time with them. No doubt he dreaded being home this time of year as much as I did. He had booked a Caribbean cruise for three weeks. The warmth would be good for Emma and I was happy for all of them.
Even though this Christmas left me a little blue, Momma was exhilarated. Mrs. Armstrong, Lexi, Felix, AJ, and Junie were joining us for Christmas dinner. She was thrilled a child would be celebrating the holiday with us. Presents for Junie spilled out from under our tree. Mom had gone crazy shopping for her.
“Avalee, sugar, run to Pigg’s for me and buy more eggnog. We have one more coming to dinner.”
“Who?”
“Mayor Campbell.”
“Why is Sid coming?”
“Lexi called and asked if he could come. They were working on a tourist campaign and he mentioned he’d be alone this year.”
“Where are his boys going?”
“To his wife’s mother’s house.”
