My Mother's Chamomile

by Susie Finkbeiner

  “I can’t, Mom.” Saliva filled my mouth. I thought for sure I’d throw up from the grief that filled my stomach.

  “What am I going to do?” She lowered the brush. It spilled over with red hair.

  “I have an idea. Wait here, okay?”

  I left her in the bathroom, looking into the mirror. Walking down the hall, I tried to keep my eyes from the family pictures that lined the walls. But I knew the photos by heart. And in each one of them, the bright hair curled around her face. Thick and healthy. Once again, I shoved my emotion out of the way.

  I dug through my purse until I found my phone.

  “Hey,” Cal answered his phone. “Seriously, you’d better be calling to tell me that aliens have occupied the town and eaten all the doughnuts. If not, I’m going to shun you forever.”

  “I know.” I tried to keep my breathing under control. “Sorry.”

  “Why are you calling me? We have our first day off in six months and you decide to wake me up?”

  “It’s been four months.”

  “Same thing, Ev.”

  “Listen, Cal, I need you to get Grace over to Mom’s house,” I said.

  “What? No.”

  “It’s not for me.”

  “We’re not in a place where I can just call her and tell her what to do.” He paused. “We aren’t even dating. Not really.”

  I stepped into the kitchen, looking out the window. “Mom’s hair is falling out, Cal.” I waited for his reaction. “She needs some help.”

  “Oh, man.” He exhaled. “Okay.”

  “Thanks, Cal.”

  “Listen, make sure there’s hot coffee waiting for me.”

  I slipped the phone into my pocket and started a fresh pot of coffee. I used the pull-out sprayer to fill the machine with water. Overflowing, water spilled out, puddling on the countertop. I mopped it up with a hand towel.

  Cal pulled into the driveway with Grace in the passenger seat. I watched them from the kitchen window. It had only taken Cal half an hour to bring Grace to the house. I wondered how he’d convinced her. Not that it mattered, really. She’d come, and my anxiety calmed a little.

  Walking in, Cal carried a tote and held the door for Grace.

  “Hi.” Her light eyes looked on me with gentleness. “You doing okay?”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” I shut the door behind the two of them, locking it. I didn’t want anyone walking in right then. It would have embarrassed Mom too much. “Do you drink coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee,” she said. “Please.”

  “I’ll get it for her.” Cal lowered the bag to the table. “You like cream and sugar, right?”

  “Yes. Thanks. Lots of both, please.” She smiled at Cal before turning back to me. “How’s your mom taking it?”

  “She’s upset.”

  “I would be, too.” She pulled out the contents of her bag and set them on the table. A razor, shaving cream, clippers. “I brought some stuff to do her nails, too.”

  “That’s really nice.” Her kindness sent a warm ache through my chest.

  “I’m excited to meet her.” She pulled a few bottles of nail polish from her purse.

  “You’re going to love her.” Cal said from the kitchen.

  Grace looked over my shoulder and smiled. “Hi.”

  Turning, I saw my mom. She wore an old green ball cap of Don’s. I’d never seen such an uneasy expression on her face.

  “This is Grace,” I said.

  “Cal’s Grace?” My mom’s face lifted in a smile. “He’s told me so much about you.”

  Cal blushed.

  “Same here. I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.” Grace stepped forward and hugged my mom like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. After she let go, Grace touched the hat. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

  My mom lifted the hat with one hand and smoothed what remained of her hair with the other. “It’s terrible.”

  Cal turned his back to us. I thought for sure I caught him rubbing his eyes.

  “It’s not all that bad,” Grace said. “Would you like me to shave it clean?”

  My mom nodded. “I’d rather you make it all grow back.”

  “I wish I could.” Grace hugged her again.

  “Where should I sit?”

  “How about we pull a chair into the kitchen? That way I can sweep it up more easily when we’re done.” Grace lifted a chair.

  “I’ll get it.” Cal rushed to get the chair. He kissed our mom on the cheek before returning to the kitchen. He lowered the chair to the linoleum in front of the stove. “Is this good?”

  “Perfect.” Grace grabbed a cape from her bag.

  Within a minute, my mom sat on the chair, covered by the black fabric. Grace touched her hair. Not with tender, pitiful hands. But with a gentle, quick, expert touch.

  “This is natural color, isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” My mom blinked a few tears loose.

  “Now, I’m going to use the clippers first, then I’ll shave your scalp.” Grace held the clippers in her hand. “Ready?”

  My mom lifted both of her hands out from under the cape, reaching for Cal and me. We kneeled next to her.

  Ice cold fingers gripped my hand. I glanced at Cal. He had pulled his top lip in and bitten down on it. His chin shook just enough that I saw it.

  “Let me know if you need a break, Gretchen. Okay?” Grace rubbed my mom’s shoulder.

  Buzzing, the clippers moved through the hair, making red fall, sliding down the cape and to the floor. My mom kept her eyes closed. So tight, her nose scrunched at the top.

  She didn’t have to watch the hair coming off.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Olga

  I never enjoyed spending time alone with Bev. Her grumping and groaning could get me down faster than a sad country western song. But no amount of begging off would get me out of our brunch date. Even if Rosetta was coming late.

  Bev sat on the other side of the table from me at Marshall’s. Arms crossed so tight, I figured one of them would get stuck like that. A few times, I was just sure she’d fallen asleep, her eyes closed for so long.

  As hard as I worked my noggin, I couldn’t think of a blessed thing to say to the woman. And she didn’t help much with her one word answers to every question I did think up.

  So, I sat, picking at my omelet and sipping my coffee, hoping that Rosetta would get there soon to rescue me.

  “Rosetta’s had a visitor this week,” Bev said after a quarter hour of quiet between us. The way she pushed her lips together made her look just like a toad. I half expected her to flick out her tongue and catch a fly.

  “I know,” I answered back. “She’s seeing him off now, isn’t she? That’s why she’ll be here late.”

  “What I don’t understand is who this person was that was visiting her.” She looked from side to side. “I think she’s been getting herself into trouble. She’s running with a strange man.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rosetta getting into trouble.” I chuckled. “Just the thought of it’s silly, Beverly.”

  “What would you know?” she huffed. “You ain’t around that place to see what happens. How would you know trouble? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I used my napkin to cover the laugh that broke from out my mouth. Bev had a ridiculous way about her. And she hated being laughed at.

  “Okay, Bev.” I recovered from the little giggle. “You tell me what you’re seeing at Rosetta’s that’s got you worried.”

  “Well, Rosetta’s had this man coming to her apartment.” She paused and lowered her voice, leaning in closer to me over her coffee. “And that man was staying for hours and hours. Then, when she’d walk him out to his car, she’d kiss him. Right smack dab on the mouth.”

  Laughing as loud as I did might not have been the best idea, but boy did it feel good. I hadn’t let out a good gut-busting laugh in mon
ths. The kind that made me feel like I’d done a thousand sit-ups.

  “What’s your problem?” Bev sneered at me. “If I wanted to be laughed at, I would’a gone to breakfast with a pack of hyenas.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” The giggle still shook in my voice. “Oh, but I needed that laugh.”

  “What am I? A comedian? Do I look like Joan Rivers to you?” Bev shook her head. “I don’t think it’s so funny to be worried about a friend. Gosh, Olga.”

  “Now, Bev, don’t you sit there and tell me you don’t know.”

  “Don’t know what? How can I tell you what I don’t know if I don’t know it?” She held her arms around herself even tighter. “I tell you what, you got me all kinds of confused.”

  “Honey, you know who that man is who’s been visiting Rosie.”

  “I do not.” She curled her lip. “But I do know that she’s been eating lunch most days with that Sophia. That woman who goes into men’s rooms to…well, you know what she does.”

  “And what does that have to do with anything, Bev?” I asked.

  “I think Sophia’s been rubbing off on Rosetta.”

  “Bev, that man that’s been visiting is Rosetta’s son,” I said.

  “That’s not her son.”

  “Yes, it is.” I sipped my coffee.

  Bev turned her head, glaring at me out of the corner of her eye. She opened and shut her mouth just about five times before she just let it clamp fast.

  “His name is Abe, and he’s a lawyer. He lives in Alabama.” I nodded. “And he is a very good son.”

  “Well.” Bev inhaled real deep. So deep, it made her cough. “I guess I was wrong.”

  We sat for several minutes. Nothing but quiet between the two of us. Keeping one eye out the window, I hoped to see Rosetta walking up to meet us. The waitress came and refilled our coffee.

  “How’s that daughter of yours? Ginger? That’s her name, right?” Bev let her arms loose to pick up her coffee.

  “Gretchen.”

  “What kind of name is that? What are you, German?”

  I nodded, although I doubted she saw it. She was too busy rolling her eyes at me.

  “Anyway, dumb name or not, how is she?”

  “She’s doing okay right now,” I said. “Her second round of chemotherapy starts soon.”

  “It made her sick, didn’t it?” Bev asked.

  “Yes.” I poured a little packet of sugar into my coffee. “She goes in for a scan next week sometime.”

  “What? A scan? Now, you don’t need to use your fancy doctor words with me. I don’t know what a scan is.” Her eyes rolled back the way they’d come a minute before. “Sounds like something a robot gets or something.”

  “They’re going to take pictures of her insides,” I answered. “They need to make sure the tumor shrunk.”

  “What if the tumor didn’t shrink?”

  I hadn’t allowed myself to entertain that thought. It would have done nothing but set my anxious heart to panicking. My hands shook so that I put them under the table and onto my thighs.

  “That would mean the treatment didn’t work.” I lifted the napkin from my lap and dabbed my lips. “And that would mean she’s going to leave sooner than we’re hoping for.”

  Bev raised one of her eyebrows at me, turning her lips into even more of a frown than usual. Her dentures clicked so loud, I thought for sure they’d fall out on the table. Instead, she pushed them into place with her tongue.

  “I been praying for her. When I remember, that is,” she said. “I never been much for praying a whole lot. It always just makes me fall asleep to have my eyes closed that long. But I been praying for Ginger.”

  “Thank you.”

  I decided not to correct her. God could sort out the names. I just knew He could.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Evelyn

  Sitting on the porch steps next to Will, I tried to figure out how he’d roped me into helping him with the youth group.

  “So was it as terrifying as you expected it to be?” He bumped me with his shoulder.

  “Almost.” I scratched my scalp. “I’ll need to take an extra long shower tonight to get all this out of my hair.”

  “Yeah. Youth group is all about getting messy.”

  A car drove by, honking at us. Will waved.

  “Seriously, who ever came up with the idea of playing Frisbee with pancakes?” I worked loose a sticky mass in my hair. “And who thought to put syrup on them?”

  “That wasn’t my idea.” He shook his head. “Cal told me it would be fun.”

  “You can’t listen to Cal.”

  “Anyway, thanks. I think the kids liked hanging out with you.”

  “Well, I guess I had fun.”

  He took my hand in his, looking at it in the dim parking lot lights. “Your nails are pretty.”

  “Thanks. Grace did them,” I said. “I wish you could have seen how great she was with my mom. She did a good job.”

  “I didn’t see her in church this morning. I wondered if she was feeling sick.”

  “She’s having a hard time. You know?” I wiped my nose with the back of my other hand. “I don’t think she’s comfortable yet. She has a scarf, but it’s still difficult for her.”

  He lifted my hand, giving it a little kiss.

  “Wow.” He let his lips linger on my skin. “You smell good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you smell like breakfast.”

  I was grateful for the laugh. I needed it. He watched me, smiling. Turning a bit sideways on the step, he leaned in closer to me.

  “So, Ev, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.”

  “I talked to Barton the other day. He told me that he’s planning to retire at the end of the year.” Will pushed the hair off his forehead. “I mean, it’s about time. He’s been around a lot of years.”

  “When’s he telling the congregation?”

  “This next Sunday during the morning service.” Putting his hand on the back of his neck, he exhaled. “The elders want to announce me as his successor.”

  “You accepted the job?”

  “Not yet. That’s what I needed to talk to you about.” He wrinkled his nose.

  “Okay.”

  “I think we need to discuss where this is going. This thing with us.”

  I sighed, taking my hand from his. “I see.”

  “You do?”

  Nodding, I turned my eyes to the ground. I didn’t have it in me to pretend. His words were about to push me back to being alone. “Go ahead.”

  I’d watched my parents in their unhappy marriage. How messy everything got when it fell apart. I remembered the empty feeling in my chest when I found out that my dad had left.

  Sitting by Will on the church steps, that emptiness returned. It felt like loneliness. Like mourning.

  “I’m glad you understand.” He wiped under his nose. “And, so, you get why I’m kind of nervous right now.”

  “Yeah. I do.” I decided that, when he said that it was over, I’d just walk away, get into my car and wait to cry until I got to my apartment. I felt my pocket to make sure I had the keys handy.

  “You know I’ve enjoyed the last few months with you.” He took in a breath. “I’ve never dated anybody like you before.”

  I pulled my fleece sweater tighter around my neck and pushed my hands against the pavement, readying to stand up.

  “And I hate to spring this on you right now,” he said. “I mean, with your mom and everything. I know that’s enough of an emotional toll on you.”

  I stood, my keys dropping from my hands.

  “Are you okay, Ev?” He reached for my keys.

  “I don’t know.” I stopped, trying to gather my thoughts. “What is this conversation about?”

  He swallowed. “I guess I’m still trying to figure it out.”

  Standing, he grabbed my hand again.

  My emotions teetered. A rush of exciteme
nt blended with a throb of dread.

  “I’m nervous because I want to tell you something. And I’ve never told any girl this before.” He kissed my hand again. “Man, you smell like breakfast. You’re making me hungry.”

  “Stay on topic, Will.”

  “Right.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Evelyn, I love you.”

  “Wow. Yeah. I can understand why that would make you nervous.” I gave him my other hand, too. Excitement won over the dread, joined by relief. The mourning held on, though. That wouldn’t so easily heal.

  “Now that I’ve got this job offer, I need to find out where we’re going.” His eyes crinkled in the corners. “It’s crazy because I’ve only known you for a few months. But I already have an idea of where I want us to end up.”

  “You aren’t asking me to marry you. It’s too soon for that,” I said. “Way too soon.”

  “Oh, no. I know that. Barton suggested that we just get married real quick.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. I told him that wasn’t a good idea. I need to get to know you some more.”

  I exhaled for the first time since Will started talking. “I’m so glad. There’s no way I can even think about that right now.”

  “I told Barton that, too.” He cringed. “But do you mind if we stop talking about him? Just thinking about him makes my arm hurt for some reason.”

  “No problem.”

  “Good.” He sighed. “But I do love you. And I want to spend more time with you.”

  “Well,” I said. “I’m a little worried that you’re going to change your mind about me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I doubt God. A lot. Like, pretty much every day. I mean, I believe everything about Jesus. You know?” I squeezed his hands. “I don’t know if that’s the best pastor’s wife material.”

  “Okay.” His smile melted me. “But could you see yourself as Will’s wife material? I mean, someday later on?”

  “Probably.”

  “Good enough for me.” He reached over our hands and kissed me. Not our first kiss. But our nicest one. “So that makes us in a committed relationship?”

  “Sure.”

  I wished I’d met him earlier. Maybe even just a few months before. As a little girl, whenever I daydreamed about my wedding, my mom was there.