by Mary Manners
Shane’s calloused fingers stroked her back. He pressed his lips to her hair and murmured, “You shouldn’t be home alone. Not now. Not like this.”
She pulled away and struggled to her feet. The pavement blurred beneath her tear-filled eyes. “If you won’t take me, I’ll walk.” She strode to the Jeep, then past it, toward the road. Even with his long stride, Shane struggled to keep up.
“Wait. I’ll take you. Get in the Jeep.”
She felt cold inside, numb, as she waited for him to unlock the door and open it. He might think he’d help her through this, but no one could, especially him. She had to go it alone. It was the only way she knew. She crossed her arms tight over her chest and pursed her lips tight to fight back tears. A single, quivering breath and she had things under control.
Shane hurried around to the driver’s side to join her. He jabbed his key into the ignition and pressed the switch for an overhead light. She shielded her eyes from the harsh glare as he turned to her, his blue eyes piercing. “Where’s your phone?”
“In my purse.” The words choked her. “Why?”
“Let me see it.” He held a hand out, demanding.
“Still bossy.” She grabbed her purse and tossed it to him. It hit him squarely in the chest. “Dig through it yourself.”
He did. She drew a ragged breath and gave a sidelong glance as he retrieved the phone and punched in a series of letters and numbers to send a text.
“What was that all about?” She swiped at the flood of tears that clouded her eyes, irritated that he wouldn’t start the car and get going. She wanted to get home. She wasn’t sure why, but she needed to get home.
“Claire’s meeting us at the house.”
“I want to be alone. You had no right to do that.”
“Maybe not.” His eyes were dark under the glow of streetlights, and his voice softened as he spoke, as if she were a wounded animal who might bolt, despite the fact that she’d just nailed him in the chest with her purse—hard. “But I care about you, Jade. You shouldn’t be alone. Not now.”
She crossed her arms and set her jaw as he released the emergency brake and cranked the Jeep’s ignition to life. The strong muscles in his arms—arms that held her and comforted—tensed as he switched off the overhead light and grasped the steering wheel.
“Mama wanted to tell me something...she said not to blame you and to forgive them. What did she mean? What do you know?”
His eyes grew hard as he eased the car into drive and navigated toward the Henley Street Bridge and over to Chapman Highway. Beneath them, dark water glinted under the light of a full moon. “I...” His eyes left the road long enough to glance at her. His gaze softened when he saw the tears that streaked her face. “Not now, OK?”
She thought to wage battle, opened her mouth to throw the first stone, then closed it just as quickly. He reached into the center console, fished out a handful of tissues, and stuffed them into her hand.
Trust him.
The words filled the car, startling her. She gasped and watched his eyes to see if he’d heard them as well. But his gaze remained steadfast on the road.
“OK, Lord,” she said softly. “I’m listening.”
“What?” Shane glanced from the road to her, his eyes narrowed with worry.
“Nothing.” She eased back in the seat and pressed the wad of tissues to her face. Outside the Jeep’s windows, the world rushed by.
****
Shane did a double-take as he eased the Jeep into the driveway. The front porch lights were on, as well as a table lamp in the living room. A soft glow spilled from the front bay window and out across the lawn. He almost expected Jade’s mom to come out onto the porch to greet them, but checked himself when he noticed Claire’s car parked at the top of the drive, beside Mrs. McAllister’s favorite flowering crepe myrtle.
“She has a key. That’s how she got inside.” Jade’s face was ashen, her voice coming a little too fast. He imagined she’d made the same assumption as he, before she checked back into reality. “I had one made for her a few months ago. She liked to drop in and check on Mama periodically.”
Claire must have heard the truck come up the drive, because her shadow crossed the window. The screen door slapped against its frame as she leapt down the front stairs and rushed toward them. She threw open the passenger door and wrapped her arms around Jade.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was choked. She pressed her cheek to Jade’s, comforting. “We did everything we could. By the time the ambulance got to the emergency room...”
“I know.” Jade’s voice was empty, flat. She wiggled from Claire’s embrace. “At least I got to see her...for awhile.” She gasped and pressed a fist to her mouth. “I—I’m really tired. I just want to go inside.”
“OK.” Claire pulled back, shot Shane a worried look. “You go on in. I filled the tea kettle. We’ll brew some chamomile in a minute.”
Jade slipped from the truck and started toward the steps. Just as he thought she’d walk away without saying goodbye she turned to him.
“Thank you, Shane, for being there tonight. I...um...” She swiped at her dampened cheeks as fresh tears rolled down. If he lived a hundred years, Shane imagined he’d never forget the mixture of bewilderment and pain that filled her eyes and covered her face like a mask as, unable to find the words, she turned away. She slipped up the walk and disappeared into the house. Through the living room window he saw her drop her purse onto the coffee table. Then she disappeared down the hall, nothing more than a shadow along the wall.
Claire sighed and leaned into the driver’s window. Her eyes were weary from the battle of life and death she’d just helped to wage and lost. “I’ll stay with her tonight. I’m not due back at the hospital ’til tomorrow morning at eight.”
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and cleared the knot from his throat. “I’d like to stay, too.”
She frowned and shook her head ever-so-slightly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
If he’d been stabbed in the heart, Shane didn’t think the pain could be any greater. He wanted to be there for Jade, yet he knew Claire was right. In earlier days, he might have forced his hand. But over the years he’d learned patience, and he had a good dose of maturity under his belt. He satisfied his need to stay by asking, “Do you think she’ll be OK?”
Claire hesitated and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind one ear. “I don’t know. This is a major blow. She’s been through a lot. It’s going to take some time.”
The lump he’d struggled to clear filled his throat once more. “Take good care of her tonight, OK?”
She smiled through tears that magnified warm brown eyes. “You know I will. Go on home now and get a good night’s sleep. She’ll need you tomorrow.”
He nodded, though he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Jade was hurting, and that made him hurt, too. Claire turned and started across the dew-kissed lawn. Her sneakers slapped against wooden stairs and the screen door squealed when she opened it to slip inside the little frame house. She waved through the screen then closed the front door tight. He heard the deadbolt click, and she was gone.
When the porch lights went dark and the living room lamp was turned down to its lowest setting, Shane remained in the driveway. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat to let the night sounds wash over him. In the distance an owl hooted while dogs settled down to sleep in the yard next door. He heard the blast of the tea kettle through the open front window and hoped the chamomile Claire brewed would ease Jade into a dreamless sleep. The thought comforted him. Despite death, some semblance of routine remained, soothed. The raw, loose ends of life would be gathered up and woven in to create a future. He thought about Jade’s questions and gnawed over what her mother had shared with him. He knew he had to tell her, and soon. In the past, he might have worried himself over what was to come. Now, instead, he bowed his head and opened his heart to pray.
The rest would follow, in time.
> Mended Heart
9
Jade stumbled into the kitchen, took one look at him through swollen, bleary eyes, and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
Shane slid two English muffins into the toaster and pressed the lever to warm them. “Claire let me in an hour ago. She had to get to the hospital.”
She brushed fingers through long strands of wavy hair and tossed her head to work out the tangles. Her eyes glittered beneath sunlight that streamed through the window over the sink, and she pulled the edges of her powder-blue terrycloth robe tighter before cinching the belt. “I’m not a charity case. I don’t need a babysitter.”
He let the comment slide. “Nice slippers.”
She glanced down to see two fuzzy bunny heads staring back at her.
“Claire bought them for me—a gag gift last Christmas.” The pink of a blush crept up her neck. No matter she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup and that her hair was matted and tangled—she still looked beautiful.
“I made you breakfast.” He reached for the muffins as they popped from the toaster, nicely browned. He gave each half a healthy slap of butter as Jade looked on. The aroma of eggs and crispy bacon filled the air.
“I’m not hungry.” Like a traitor, her stomach chose just that time to let loose a rumble that could have rivaled an earthquake.
“Your belly begs to differ. Did you eat anything at all last night?”
She crossed her arms over her stomach and ignored the question.
Shane frowned. “Thought so.”
“Hmpff.” She eased toward the stove. He watched as she peeked into the frying pan, sniffed the eggs he’d scrambled with thick slices of bacon and drizzled with melted cheddar cheese, and knew he had her.
“Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”
“I can do that much, at least.” She reached for the kettle, filled it, and set it on the burner to boil. Then she leaned against the wall and watched as he scooped scrambled eggs and bacon onto two plates.
“You do that like a pro.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I’ve had some practice. Susie likes eggs and bacon. She prefers a little more cheese on the eggs, though. I tried to go easy here.”
“I like cheese.”
He caught a whiff of her lotion as he passed her to set the plates on the kitchen table. The scent was citrusy with a hint of sweetness—orange mixed with peach, maybe a hint of strawberry. His gut tightened, and the plates clattered as they slipped from his hands. “I can sprinkle some more on, if you’d like.”
“No. They look good.” She turned and reached for the kettle when it hissed and screeched. Finding a mug in the cabinet next to the sink, she plopped in a bag of blackberry herbal tea and covered it with steaming water to steep. “There’s juice in the fridge.”
As the words slipped out, her voice caught and her eyes filled with tears. He knew she’d kept juice in the house for her mom. It had helped the medicine go down easier.
“No, thanks. I made some coffee.” He pulled out one of the chairs for her and motioned for her to sit down.
She hesitated. “I don’t think I can swallow.”
“Yes, you can.” He took her hand. “Come on.”
She let him guide her to the table and ease her into a chair. He squeezed her hand and bowed his head.
“Mama always prayed before she ate,” Jade informed him when he’d finished. She picked up her fork and poked at the eggs. “At least near the end, after her...”
“I know.” He took a bite of his English muffin. “I saw her in action the night Susie and I came for spaghetti.”
Her eyes took on a faraway look. “You two talked that night, while I was outside with Carly. What about?”
He nearly choked on steaming coffee. He knew he had to tell her eventually, but was now the best time? She was fragile, and emotional, and he knew today she’d have to spend time at the funeral home making arrangements.
“How about some grape jam for your English muffin?”
She shook her head. “Butter’s fine.” Her eyes locked with his and refused to let go. “Shane?”
He sighed and motioned toward the cooling food on her plate. “Eat. You need to fill your belly before you get sick. All you’ve had since yesterday morning is chocolate cake, and that can’t be good. I’ll share with you, but not now, OK?”
Her green eyes flashed with uncertainty. “Why?”
“Trust me, please.”
Jade froze. Those were the same words that had come to her in the Jeep last night. Was there some significance?
He reached for a napkin, brushed crumbs from his lips. “Eat your eggs. You’ll need your strength today. There’s a lot to do.”
“I...I know.” She stared at the plate, pierced a forkful of eggs and shoved them into her mouth. Chewing around tears, she forced a swallow. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through.”
He spoke around a bite of bacon. “One step at a time. Let me carry some of the load.”
“Why?” Her eyes were like two brilliant emeralds floating in shimmery pools of water.
“Because I want to.” It made perfect sense to him. He thought of Reid, of losing her. No one should suffer alone through the death of someone they loved. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
She looked at him as if she’d read his mind. “Who carried some of the load for you when Reid died?”
He thought back. Time and prayer had dulled the pain, yet some still lingered beneath the surface. It probably always would, to some extent. The accident he’d caused had been fresh at the time, his wounds still healing. And Bryce, bitterly plagued by anger and resentment, had been transferred from ICU to inpatient rehab. His forgiveness was still a long time coming. Reid, despite her illness, had been his rock, his lifeline. Losing her had been a devastating blow, the proverbial train wreck that Pastor Charles asserted was the turning point in his life.
“I don’t know. I had Susie to think of, and that was enough to keep me going.” He drew a gulp of coffee. The bitter brew scalded his throat. He set the mug down a little too hard. “What does it matter?”
“It matters to me. You didn’t have anyone...to care for you, to worry over you?”
“What? You find it hard to believe that this ‘bad boy wannabe,’ as you so eloquently put it, had no one to lean on?” He stuffed what was left of the English muffin into his mouth and chewed hard. “It hurt, OK? It couldn’t have hurt more if I’d been slammed by a semi. I don’t want you to hurt like that.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, squeezed it gently, then attempted to smooth her unruly hair by running a hand through the tangles she’d acquired during a sleepless night. “Thank you for caring. I guess I’d better get ready to go. The funeral home is expecting me at noon.”
“Go on. I’ll clean up in here and then I’ll take you.” He stood to gather the plates, turned his back to her so she couldn’t see the pain in his eyes. He waited until he heard her footsteps down the hall and the whisper of the bathroom door closing to turn and dump the dishes into the sink. He closed the drain and squirted a healthy dose of dish soap over the mess, then the rush of hot water running full blast from the faucet drowned out all thought.
****
Jade let the warm water sluice over her weary body. Her shoulders ached and a dull, nagging thud had invaded her head as she tried to fall asleep last night. It refused to go away. Steam hung like a cloud over the bathroom as she cranked the temperature of the water as hot as she could stand it. Mama’s things were scattered all around—bath salts on the window ledge, an open jar of night cream on the sink counter beside bubble-gum-pink sponge rollers she sometimes slept in to give her thinning hair added body. Lavender, Mama’s favorite scent, swirled on the air.
Today Jade would go to the funeral home on Chapman Highway in South Knoxville. There she’d choose a gleaming casket lined with silken fabric. Her mother’s body would be laid to rest, lowered into the cold, hard ground, and Jade would never again he
ar her voice, never listen to her sing a hymn while washing dishes at the kitchen sink. She’d never, ever get to ask her all the questions she still had about her father, what had happened to him, and why? She knew there was more to the story, yet every time she broached the subject lately Mama skirted her questions. She needed closure, but that was out of the question now. She’d lay her mother to rest beside her father at Highland South, on a hill beneath a century-old weeping willow with branches like long arms that would wrap her in a loving embrace. Maybe in eternity her parents would find the happiness that had so painfully eluded them here.
Tears ran together in rivulets with the shower spray. The torrent seemed endless, and her chest tightened with each wrenching sob. Over the water she heard Shane in the kitchen, clattering the frying pan and plates as he washed them and set them in the dish drain to dry. He’d come to help her, but she assumed it was only out of a sense of duty. He’d said as much himself. He’d had no one when Reid died, and he didn’t want her to be alone. So he came. His embrace was meant to console, to comfort, and nothing more.
That was fine. With Mama gone, she had no reason to stay in Piney Grove. She could return to Chicago. She focused on the students she’d left, and tried not to think about the stark, lonely studio apartment she’d rented and gone home to, alone, night after night. Maybe she could find a more cheerful apartment, a place where the morning sun streamed through the kitchen window like it did here, in Mama’s kitchen. She could return to the teaching job she’d resigned from to come here. Surely they’d welcome her back.
The thought of leaving behind bad memories again, memories of losing Mama for a second time, should be a comfort. She could flee and not look back. There was nothing to look back for now, anyway. Mama was gone for good now—dead. Her reason for coming home was gone. So why did she feel so disconcerted, so torn?
