Mrs. Allen’s viewing had run long into the evening. Well past the nine o’clock ending time. Granddad wouldn’t charge them more. He never did. Fortunately, we didn’t have to set up the chapel for the service the next day. That would be over at the church.
Granddad walked us to the porch of the Big House. Pulsing dots of fireflies flitted in front of us. Cal reached out, cupping both hands to catch one. The little bug crawled across his skin, glowing every few seconds. Raising its wings, it lifted off Cal’s palm, hovering near, still lighting up.
“As much as I’d love to sit here and watch you catch lightning bugs all night, I’m beat,” Granddad said. “And I think all three of us could use a good night of sleep.”
“Sounds good to me.” Cal stepped to the edge of the porch, teetering off the side.
“I feel awful making you kids work on a Saturday.” Granddad shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Wish I could give you both a bonus. We’ve had nothing but busy weekends all year, it seems.”
“It’s not a problem, Granddad.” The warmth of the evening forced a drowsy yawn from my mouth.
“I love you both. You know that.” His heavy arm rested across my shoulders. “Tomorrow, I expect a lot less chitchatting between the two of you. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“Sorry about that.” Cal tipped himself off the porch to the sidewalk.
“Don’t be sorry, just be better at keeping your traps shut.”
Granddad stepped back into the funeral home and closed the door behind him. The lock clicked into place before the lights switched off.
Cal caught a few more fireflies while we walked to our cars.
“Man, I wish I had a jar,” he mumbled. “Remember how we used to fill a whole jar full of these?”
“You wanted to make a lantern.”
“It never worked.” Jumping, he missed one. It glowed just out of his reach.
“You’re going home, right?” I asked.
“I thought I’d stop over at the church. Make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow.” He took his eyes off the bug.
“If you keep working so much, you’re never going to meet anybody.” I pulled my car door open.
“Yeah. But who needs friends when I have my big sister?” Winking, he pulled the keys from his pocket. “Drive safe, Ev.”
“Don’t work too late.”
Pulling out onto the dirt road, I flipped through the radio stations, looking for something other than country music. A tall order out in the sticks where I lived.
As soon as I felt the smooth, paved road under my tires, I accelerated. I could have driven that road blindfolded. Every day, I navigated the bumps and curves and potholes of the roads to and from the Big House. My eyes lost focus for just a second, but I knew that road stretched out straight in front of me. On a clear night like that one, I wouldn’t have any problems.
My phone buzzed from inside my purse, jiggling the coins in my wallet. I reached for the whole thing, pulling it by the straps to the passenger’s seat. Feeling around, I pushed my wallet to one side and a book to the other. Finding the phone, I grabbed it, taking my eyes from the road for a moment. The screen glowed. I looked back at the road.
That was when the first deer darted across my path. Instinct took over. All the times Granddad repeated, “Don’t veer for a deer” worked for me that night, and I didn’t swerve. I just gripped the wheel tighter and stepped my foot on the brakes. Tires squealed. I barely missed the animal.
Then the second one leapt out in front of me before my car came to a complete stop.
My whole body tensed, jolting with the hard thud at the front of the car. Gasping, I looked at my hands. Knuckles already white, I tried to open my fingers and let go of the steering wheel. Numb and shaking wildly, somehow, I was able to put the car into park.
“Don’t freak out,” I said to myself. “Don’t panic.”
Forcing myself to look out the windshield, I hoped to find that the animal had somehow gotten away. Run off into the woods or something. But she hadn’t. She lay in the middle of the road, a few yards in front of my bumper.
When she moved, I jumped in my seat. Her long legs jerked, the hooves clicking against the pavement. She arched her neck every so often.
Forcing myself to breathe slowly and calm down, I stuffed my emotions deep. Years of working in the funeral home helped with that. Bending down, I grabbed my phone from the floor where it had fallen. It buzzed again. Cal’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hey.” I kept my voice steady.
“Ev, I want you to be careful, okay. The deer are hopping tonight,” he said. “I’ve seen at least five already.”
My eyes fixed on the writhing doe in the road. Blood trickled from her mouth.
“Are you there, Ev?”
“I hit one.”
“You did? A deer?” He paused. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Swallowing, I kept my eyes on the doe. “She’s still alive.”
“You want me to come?” he asked. “I can be there in five minutes. I haven’t gotten to the church yet.”
“I’m on Crane Street.”
“Be right there. Just stay in your car, okay? Seriously. Don’t get out. And put your hazards on.”
Waiting, stuck in the car, ended up being more difficult than I’d thought. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t pull my eyes from the animal. Putting my hand on the water bottle in the cup holder, I tried to figure out how to hold her head and give her a few drops of relief. At a loss, I let go of the bottle.
If she’d already been dead, I would have been able to handle it. I wouldn’t have struggled to know what to do. As it was, with her moving in pain, I felt guilty. Helpless.
Cal’s headlights illuminated the deer even more. She’d already lost a lot of blood. One of her legs angled unnaturally. The slamming of his car door aggravated her more and she kicked from where she lay in the road. I imagined she wanted to get on her feet to run away.
My brother got to the passenger’s side of my car as fast as he could.
“You really got her,” he said.
“I know.” My best efforts to keep myself flat and calm took all my energy. I didn’t want Cal to know how upset I was. “Do you think insurance will cover the damage?”
A pang shot up through my chest. I’d betrayed her. Belittled her suffering by asking about insurance.
“You should be covered.” The screen on Cal’s phone glowed. “I sent a text to Randy. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Randy Shoop, the deputy sheriff of Middle Main, had grown up with us. He’d been the captain of the football team and, more than likely, dated most of the girls at our high school. Not me, though. Not that it bothered me. Not at all.
“Why did you have to call him?” I asked.
“He’s got a gun.”
“But why not a veterinarian or animal control?”
“Ev, they wouldn’t be able to do anything for her.”
We waited for Randy to come. We didn’t say anything. If I talked, I’d lose it. I kept moving, though. Knowing that the animal lay, suffering, made me restless. She deserved more, and I could do nothing for her.
“Good old Randy.” Cal turned in his seat when the red and blue lights of the squad car blazed across the soy bean fields on both sides of us. “I bet he’s super excited to have something to tell Deirdre in the morning.”
When the squad car pulled up next to us, Cal got out. “You stay in here, okay?” He held the door open. “You might want to close your eyes.”
He shut the door. Pushed it closed so it wouldn’t slam.
The headlights of my car shining on them, Randy and Cal shook hands. They turned their heads toward the deer. The sounds of their low voices mumbled through my window. I couldn’t hear what they said.
I pushed my door open and got out onto the pavement. Randy unholstered his handgun and switched off the safety. He held it up. The hammer clicked when he pulled it down. He looked
down the barrel, aiming at the doe.
“Don’t,” I said, stepping beside him. “Just wait a second, Randy.”
He lowered the gun. “I have to.”
“There’s nothing else we can do? We can’t help her at all?”
The deer lifted her head toward us. She’d stopped flailing. A huffing grunting sound pushed out of her nose and mouth.
“She’s suffering, Ev.”
I’d known Randy since kindergarten. In all those years, I’d never heard him use a gentle voice. Always rough and full of bravado. He’d been known as a macho guy. After all, he was the first kid in our class to grow a mustache.
That night, though, he used a softer voice.
“I’ve got to put her out of her misery,” he said. “As soon as I can. It’s cruel to make her wait.”
Stepping backward, I covered my ears and waited for him to shoot.
He raised the gun again, and the deer lowered her head to the pavement. Her long lashes flicked down, covering her large eyes. She huffed once more, heavy air out of her lungs. Her last moment.
I felt the gunshot before I realized I’d heard it. Gasping, I tried to regain the breath the concussion had sucked out of me.
“Okay, Ev?” Cal’s words sounded as though they traveled through water.
I didn’t answer him.
“What are we going to do with her now?” So still. So quiet. I hated to stir the night air with my voice. “We have to do something.”
“We’ll put it on the shoulder.” Randy holstered his handgun. “I’ll call somebody to come pick it up first thing in the morning.”
He made his way to the deer. His hands under her, the head moved, loose and free. The mess under her turned my stomach. Somehow it was different than what I saw every day.
“Cal, buddy, you mind giving me a little hand over here?” Randy tugged on the doe.
The two of them hefted the body, leaving her on the gravel shoulder of the road. Exposed and vulnerable. It bothered me that she’d be out in the open overnight.
“I’ll call a wrecker for your vehicle, Evelyn,” Randy said. “I don’t know that you’d be able to drive very far with that punctured radiator.”
Green oozed from under my car. It crept close to the red that had bled out from under the doe. So much mess.
“Old Jay Bunker’s boy can come get it. He’ll like the business. Unless you wanted me to call somebody else?” Randy rubbed his soiled hands against each other. He lowered his head to look into my eyes. I nodded. “I bet Cal can get you home. I’ll just wait here for the wrecker.”
Cal held the door open for me. Red stained his white shirt. It streaked all the way across his chest and arms. He’d wiped his hands in the grass, but still, the blood dried on his skin.
“I hate leaving her like that,” I said before getting into the car.
“Me too.” He turned over the ignition. “But there wasn’t anything else we could do.”
“It doesn’t make me hate it any less.”
“I know, Ev.” He closed the door.
Cal kept his eyes open extra wide all the way to my apartment. He drove slowly. More for my sake than anything.
Chapter Eight
Olga
Most mornings, I beat the sun getting up. That lazy bum had nothing on me. Before it got itself up in the sky, I’d already read my Bible, had a cup of coffee, and made breakfast for my Clive.
That habit started years before. If I hadn’t gotten up and scrambled a couple dozen eggs and toasted a few loaves of bread before Aunt Gertie’s boys got up, they’d tear the kitchen apart looking for food. A pack of feral bobcats, that’s what they were. And I’d have been the one to miss school, putting everything back together. Even with more than fifty years between me and that farm, I still got antsy if I slept past sunrise.
That morning, a Saturday, with a cup of coffee close at hand, I spent a quiet moment or two at my dinette. Done with my reading for the day, I closed my Bible, pushing it across the tabletop. I prayed with my eyes open. I didn’t figure God minded too much. If I let my eyes shut for too long, I’d start snoozing. Not that God would have been angry about that, either.
Most of my younger years, I took to my knees when I prayed. Aunt Gertie would have called that “storming the gates of heaven.” I never understood what she meant by that. It seemed a little too forceful for me. I preferred to, with prayer and petition, make my request known to God.
That morning, in the dim of my kitchen, my request was for Gretchen. As it had been so many mornings from the time I felt her in my belly. The way she hurt, though, the day before had made me more than a little uneasy. It made my mama’s heart throb with anxiety. When Jesus told us not to worry, He talked about food and clothes. He didn’t give us much idea about how not to worry about our children.
I said what I needed to. Asked God for health and protection and joy. Maybe even a little peace thrown in, too, for good measure. My prayers never lasted long. No babbling like the pagans for me. I didn’t think God cared for big, curvy words that I didn’t know the meaning of. He wanted my heart. I tried my very hardest to let Him have it.
After I said, “in Jesus’s name, Amen,” I got myself another cup of coffee. Oh, how the Father of Lights spoiled His children with such pleasures. Even if it was only decaf. I still praised Him for the gift in my mug.
“Morning, darling,” Clive said, walking from our bedroom.
“You’re up early.” I tried to hide the little jump of surprise I’d done when I heard his voice. “I haven’t even got your breakfast made yet.”
“I don’t have time for much more than a piece of toast and cup of joe.” He kissed the top of my head. “We’ve got Mrs. Allen’s funeral this morning. I need to get to the church.”
“Let me get that toast for you, then.” I busied my hands, dropping slices of bread into the toaster. “You want me to put a little cinnamon and sugar on that?”
“You know how to love me, don’t you?” He cocked one side of his mouth into a smile that charmed me right down to my toes. “How about tonight I take you out for a date? Maybe dinner some place that doesn’t have a buffet.”
“Oh, Clive.”
“Unless you have other plans.”
“That would be a real treat.” Giddy bubbles swelled in my heart. “You sure are good to me.”
“That’s a promise I made fifty-two years ago.” His lips warmed my forehead with sweet comfort. “Besides, I like having you to show off. You’re good on my old eyes.”
The browned bread popped up from the toaster. Buttered and sugared and put on a paper plate, I got him his breakfast.
“Thank you.” He gave my cheek a kiss before making his way down the stairs.
I tagged one more thing on to the prayer. A rejoicing in the Lord for the good man He’d given me.
Worth more than a billion cups of coffee.
The first-in-the-morning sun started its trip up the sky. Something about that wee time of the day called me into creation. Inhaling the brand new morning air, letting it fill me with sweet aromas of grass and flowers and what had to have been mercy from God Himself. Another day and another breath sure seemed that way to me.
“You’re good to us,” I said right out loud into the air. Not one person around to hear it. Just Him.
Sometimes those simple prayers, the ones said while getting my shoes wet with dew, got caught up in my throat. Those prayers made me a better woman.
I walked all the way around the garden once. Checking on the flowers, wishing them a happy day. When I reached the far side of the plot, I saw Gretchen sitting on her porch swing. I watched her for a minute or two. She pushed a bit of her red hair behind one ear. The squeak of her swing echoed off the trees.
I got found out. She saw me and waved.
“Come on over, Mom,” she half yelled.
I didn’t make her ask twice.
“Good morning, honey,” I said, making my way to her porch. “You feeling better today?”<
br />
“A little.” She moved over a bit to make room for me next to her. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning?”
“I was just about to say the same thing.” Climbing the steps, I was thankful for the railing Donald had put in a few months before. “You hungry?”
“I’m fine, Mom.” She breathed in deep. “I just want to enjoy this for a few minutes.”
“Sounds like a nice idea.” Sitting so close to her and relishing a little bit of beauty made my heart beat with thanksgiving.
We sat on the porch swing for goodness knew how long. Quieting our mouths so we could hear the chirp of birds and chatter of squirrels. Every so often, a little wisp of breeze tickled our faces. The clouds, so full and round, made shapes across the blue of sky.
After a while, Gretchen touched my knee. “I could use a cup of tea,” she said. “I have some raspberry, if you’d like to try it.”
“That sounds good.” Really, though, I could have sat on that porch swing another couple hours with her.
We sat on the couch, mugs of steaming tea in our hands. Oh, did the raspberry delight my tastebuds. Nothing spoke summertime into my soul like the taste of berries.
“Char starts her new job with Deirdre next week,” Gretchen said.
“She’s excited, isn’t she?”
“I think she is. It’s a good opportunity.” Her eyes glimmered at me from over the top of her mug. “She’ll need to go in strong. I don’t want Deirdre to stomp all over her.”
“Oh, I think Charlotte’ll be just fine.”
“You’re right.” Gretchen’s contented smile made little wrinkles right above her cheekbones. I never would have thought wrinkles could be so lovely.
Motion out the big picture window caught my eye. I looked through the glass to see Rosetta and Bev making their way up the porch steps. I pointed and Gretchen watched, too.
Rosetta carried a baking dish. No doubt, something rich and full of butter and soft for us to share. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I’d skipped breakfast.
“Knock, knock,” Rosetta called in through the screen door.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Bev grumbled. “They already seen us coming. Just go in.”
My Mother's Chamomile Page 6
