by Lisa Smartt
I instinctively rose to my feet. “Yes? Come in.”
Matthew walked in and stood by the door without making eye contact. He had on his Sunday clothes. Ironed khaki pants. Light blue oxford shirt. Looked like his cowboy boots had been polished and shined. He leaned up against the wall with one foot propped behind him. When he did, I couldn’t help but think about those cowboy pictures with the cowboy leaned up against the wall in that exact position. But Matthew Prescott was far more handsome than any cowboy I’d ever seen. In his left hand, there was a familiar folder from Groeden’s Funeral Home. He cleared his throat. “I just came by to make sure you’d gotten word. I mean, about…” He smiled and coughed. “Who am I kidding? It’s 3:30 in the afternoon. Every person in Sharon knows by now. That’s not why I came by. You’re probably busy, Sarah.” He started to leave. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No. Don’t go. You’re not bothering me. Really.” I stepped out from behind my desk. As I was walking toward him, I began crying like I’d lost my own mother. He immediately moved away from the wall, and walked toward me. He wrapped his arms around me, almost exactly the way he had wrapped his arms around Mrs. Ida in her time of grief. Fully encompassing me. Providing a place of absolute safety. Security. Warmth.
“It’s okay, Sarah. Go ahead and cry.” I pressed my face into his chest and cried almost exactly like I did when my daddy died. Sorrowful. He rubbed his hand gently over my head. “It’ll be okay. We’ll all get through it.”
Finally I pulled my face back and whispered. “I’m sorry, Matthew. Don’t know what came over me.”
“Sadness. And there’s nothing wrong with being sad. Mr. Chester and Mrs. Ida, they’re worthy of that sadness.”
“I guess. Gosh, I’ve gotten make-up all over your shirt. I’m sorry. Really.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m getting ready to go home anyway. I can change.”
“Well, at least you won’t have to worry about supper.”
“How’s that?”
“Oh Matthew, there are so many things you don’t know about Sharon. So many things. When’s the last time you were home?”
“’Bout noon.”
“Right. Well, let’s see, it’s almost 4:00 now. Yeah, I’d say there’s a pretty good trickle by now. Did someone tell you about leaving the house unlocked?”
“Yeah. Carlie told me to be sure to leave the house unlocked when I went to the funeral home. I didn’t understand that.”
“Well, I’ll drive you home and you’ll understand.”
When we got near Chester and Ida’s house, James and Collin were playing in the front yard with all four of Dusty and Clara’s kids and one of the neighbor boys. Dave and Ashley were sitting on the front porch with Doug and Carlie. Dusty and Clara were out by the street visiting with Lexie Lawson and her three-legged beagle. Aunt Charlotte was helping Brother Dan unload the back of his minivan. Uncle Bart was trimming the hedges.
Matthew smiled and asked, “Did I invite a bunch of people over without knowing it?”
“No. Chester and Ida invited them over. Kind of. They extended the invitation when they died. This is what we do, Matthew. We don’t grieve alone. It’s not healthy. We grieve together. Oh, and we eat.” I patted his arm. “Our grief never keeps us from eating.”
Chapter 33, CARLIE: I’m Grieving. Pass the Potato Salad
Chester and Ida Miller’s death was shocking and sad for all of us. But everyone in the community agreed there was a certain sweetness to their departing together. Mabel said, “Them two was joined at the hip since they was teenagers. Couldn’t even say one name without saying the other. God knows His business and all is right with the world.” She laughed and added, “Oh, and that Chester was so dang tight with his money, it would thrill him to death that he’s gettin’ a two-for-one down at Groeden’s Funeral Home. Leave it to Chester to stick it to ol’ Groeden.”
Of course, we all brought food to the house. It’s what we do. But the whole concept was new to Matthew Prescott. Monday afternoon Sarah pulled her Ford Focus in behind Brother Dan’s van and Matthew’s post-death small town education began. James ran to meet both of them at the porch. “Matthew, I’m sorry your Mama and Daddy are dead. They’re in heaven and you are gonna miss them a LOT.”
“What?”
“Mama said Mr. Chester and Mrs. Ida were like your mama and daddy and that’s why you lived here. And it’s why you’re gonna make loud crying noises and be sad and stuff. That’s why we brought meatballs and coconut cake. Right?”
Aunt Charlotte grabbed him in the middle of an escape attempt. She yelled loudly, “Yes, sir! This boy right here is the sweetest smartest little young’un around. And I am gonna squeeze the stuffin’ out of him!! I sure am!” She ran from the porch onto the front yard. Her entire body jiggled like Jell-O being released from the mold. “You too, Collin! Oh, and all you McConnell young’uns is sweet as sugar too. You better watch out! Aunt Charlotte gonna get all kinds of love on you babies!!”
Mabel came walking up the sidewalk carrying a box of fried chicken from the diner and a pecan pie she swore was still warm and burning her hand. Mitch Smith brought over a gift certificate to Sammy’s. Buster and Michelle brought fried catfish and cinnamon rolls and that layered salad that’s made up of cold peas and sour cream and onions and a bunch of stuff that sounds like it would be absolutely and completely horrible. But it’s delicious. Unless you’re a kid. Kids look at layered salad kinda like they look at Cole slaw or black coffee. It’s an acquired taste.
Aunt Charlotte took it upon herself to be Matthew’s teacher. She pulled out the dining room chair which was probably from the 1960’s. Aluminum legs and green plastic-coated seats and chair backs. “Now Baby, you sit down right here at the table with pretty little Sarah and I’m gonna fix you kids your plates.” She cupped her hands together. “Ever’body, get in here!!! The poor boy’s grieving and he don’t need to eat alone!”
Matthew chewed on his lip to keep from laughing. The crowd gathered around the table and Brother Dan said a prayer of thanks for the bountiful food. That was all fine and good. But Brother Dan is such a tender soul. He closed with these words: “Lord, Chester and Ida blessed us. Every one of us. Every day they blessed us. They blessed us with their simplicity, their faithfulness, their love. Thank you for giving them to us as a gift. Help us to follow their example. Help us to follow your example. Oh, and thank you for blessing us with Matthew too. Thank you for the gift he was to the Millers, to all of us. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”
Well, that simple prayer got the waterworks goin’. Aunt Charlotte started crying and raising her hands and wiping her face with a dirty apron. “Lord, I’m gonna miss them two. Sure enough. I’m gonna miss them two somethin’ awful.”
Ashley grabbed a Kleenex and said, “Chester used to always tell me he was born for the stage, just that his stage was a little smaller than mine. Uncle Bart still says he was the best storyteller at the barber shop.”
Dave told the story of the Millers driving to Florence, Alabama, when he and Ashley got married. “I asked him, I said, ‘Chester, at your age, you sure you can drive that far for the wedding?’ I remember his exact words. ‘It’s never too far for family.’”
Aunt Charlotte finally said with an air of authority, “Well, ever’body’s had their cry now. Chester and Ida would want us to move on and get busy with life. There’s visitation tomorrow and a funeral on Friday and we’ll all need our strength. So eat up! Mamas and daddies, make the young’uns their plates. I’m gonna fix plates for Matthew and Sarah. I’ll fix yours too, Bart. I know just what you like. Matthew, you ain’t picky, are you? Lord knows you can’t be if you sat at Ida’s table every night. Whew! I loved that woman but she could overdo on some green onions. Have mercy. I ain’t never known a woman who loved green onions more than Ida Miller. Oh, and her meatballs? No need to lie about it. Dry as a sand box. Dry as a sand box.”
Chapter 34, SARAH: The Blessing
By 8:30 Brother D
an and I were the only ones left sitting on the porch with Matthew. Everyone else had school kids who needed to be bathed and attended to. Brother Dan slowly rose from the rocking chair. “I better go too.” He looked at Matthew. “Everything is completely done for the funeral on Wednesday morning. Chester and Ida had it planned down to the detail. Of course, at the time, they had no idea there’d only be one funeral.” His eyes filled with tears. “What a gift. To both of them. Exactly the way they would have wanted it. If you need anything, anything at all, Matthew, you call me. Day or night. But before I go, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Matthew stood. “Sure.”
“Did Chester and Ida ever talk to you about, about the house?”
“The house? Not really.” Matthew pointed to the porch ceiling. “I mean, we had plans to paint the porch ceiling. See where that’s peeling right there? In all the corners? Yeah, I figured I could do some scraping, some primer and paint. Good as new. After things calm down a bit, I’m still willing to do that. It’ll have better resale with a fresh coat of paint.”
“And where are you planning on living?”
“Not sure yet. Whoever owns it now, if they could give me even just two or three weeks, it would help a lot. I’m sure Doug or somebody from church knows a place I could rent that wouldn’t be too expensive.”
My heart could hardly contain the excitement. Brother Dan paused. “Well, finding another rental house is not really gonna work, Matthew.”
“Why?”
“’Cause that’s not what Chester and Ida wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
Brother Dan’s voice cracked as he fought back tears. “Matthew, they both loved you. You were like the son they never had, the one they’d always prayed for.”
Matthew shook his head. “You can’t know how much that means to me. Especially right now.”
“Matthew, this house? It’s yours now. It belongs to you. Free and clear. A gift. It was their parting gift. They took care of all the details with Jimmy Smithson’s law office downtown. The furnishings? All the contents? They’re yours.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me?”
“No. I have all the paperwork right here. They wanted me to be the one to tell you.”
Matthew Prescott buried his head in Brother Dan’s chest and cried like a man who hadn’t cried in a long time. I figure he hadn’t cried like that since, well, since Mary’s death fifteen years ago. And I knew it wasn’t about inheriting the house either. It wasn’t about owning Chester and Ida’s Coca-Cola crate collection, the outdated glassware, the ugly dining room chairs, or the old iron bed he slept in every night. No. It was about those words. Those powerful words. They loved you like a son.
Chapter 35, SARAH: Better to Have Loved and Lost…
I was parked behind Brother Dan, so after all the crying was over, I hugged Matthew and told him I’d see him at visitation. He said, “Could you just move your car? And then stay a bit longer?”
“Sure.”
When I walked back onto the porch, he was sitting in the big porch swing.
“Is there room for me?”
He nodded and I sat down beside him. At first, we couldn’t get the swinging motion right. I was nervous. Embarrassed. Finally I laughed and said, “No wonder I was no good at softball. A woman who can’t even swing on a porch swing could never hit a ball with that little bitty bat, right?”
He smiled. “How do you know it’s not me who’s messing it all up?”
“You’re right. Just because you’re a gifted mechanic and you were an all-star college athlete, yeah, that doesn’t give you license to operate a porch swing, Mister.”
He leaned his head back and smiled. “That settles it. I’m the problem. What if we go sit on the porch steps instead?”
“That’s good.”
I sat down on the steps. He sat closer to me than he had ever sat before. I could hardly breathe. “That dress looks real pretty on you, Sarah.”
“Thanks. I’ve had it for years. My friend says floral prints are out now, but I don’t know. This dress always makes me feel happy. Hopeful.”
“Did you know? About the house?”
“I did. Remember that night in the hospital? When Chester and Ida wanted to see me?”
“Yeah.”
“They told me they were giving it to you. Of course, Chester thought he would go first and Mrs. Ida would live here for years. But that was one of the things he said to me…that you were the kind of man who would take care of her. He had confidence in you.”
He lowered his head and clasped his hands together. “I would have.”
“I know.”
“So why would he tell you that? About the house? Why did he tell you but never told me?”
I knew my face was turning bright red. “Not sure really. He just wanted me to know, I guess. He wanted me to know how much they thought of you. What kind of man they thought you were.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to miss them. Both of them.”
“We all are.” I patted him on the knee. “Oh, and when all this funeral food is gone, what do you plan to do about cooking? By my calculations, green onions or no green onions, Mrs. Ida had you kinda spoiled.”
“Good point. I never cooked growing up. Didn’t work the kitchen in prison. Ate out that failed year of law school. And yes, Mrs. Ida cooked for me several times a day. So at 35, it’s high time I learn the fine art of boxed mac n cheese, at least.”
“Puh-lease. We can do better than that. I’ll give you lessons. How ‘bout it?”
“Sounds good. The porch light’s attracting bugs. Do you mind if I turn it off?”
“No, that’s fine.”
When he sat back down, I could feel his left arm at my side. He looked up. “Moon’s pretty tonight.”
“It is. Did you ever get to see the moon? I mean, when you were in prison, could you go outside at night?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Just part of it, I guess.”
“But not the worst part?”
“No. Not the worst.”
“What was the worst part, Matthew?”
He never made eye contact. “I was young when I went in. Naïve.”
My heart clenched in my chest. My great uncle had been a prison guard in Alabama and I remembered him talking to my daddy in the backyard about what sometimes happened to the young men when they first arrived. Had he known I was listening through the back door, he never would have said those things. At the time, I didn’t even understand what his words meant.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now. We all are.”
“Me too.” He scooted closer and touched my hand. It startled me and I jumped. He immediately let go and stood up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…to scare you.”
I jumped to my feet. “No. I’m sorry, Matthew. It just took me by surprise. That’s all. Really.”
“No. It’s my fault. I didn’t give you any warning.” He shook his head and walked onto the porch. “I don’t know how to do this, Sarah. I don’t. I never really had the chance…”
“Do what?”
He bit his lip and started pacing nervously. He pointed to himself and then to me. “This.”
“Well, if you want my opinion, I think you’re doing fine.”
He stopped pacing and looked at me. “Thank you. For saying that. I like you, Sarah. I have for quite a while.”
“I like you too, Matthew. And I have for quite a while.”
He slowly walked toward me and I could barely breathe. He was more relaxed. “You’re not going to jump again. Are you?”
“No. I’m perfectly calm.”
“Good. I told you I’m not good at this.” He took a deep breath. “And I don’t ever…I don’t ever want to do something that’s not right. Something that hurts you.”
I held out my arms.
“I trust you. Completely.”
He moved forward and slowly wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into his chest. Absolute euphoria. I’d never experienced anything like it. As his right hand touched the back of my head, he whispered, “You’re beautiful, Sarah. In every way.” I pulled my head away from his chest and looked into his big brown eyes, eyes that had seen so much pain over the years. Loss. Suffering. Rejection. But at that moment, they were filled with hope. He leaned forward and gently kissed me on the cheek. He pulled away, as if he were asking a question. I smiled and closed my eyes. His lips touched mine. It was a tiny glimpse of heaven. Better than the very best of dreams. Sadly, a bright light put an end to it.
“Matthew! Sarah! Is this your idea of grieving for the dead?” Jerry Conner pointed the flood light at our faces and we both squinted.
Matthew rubbed his eyes. “Jerry? Jerry, where’s your car?”
“I parked it around the block. Didn’t want to give you the heads up, Mr. Prescott.”
“Uh, okay.”
Jerry stumbled onto the porch like a drunk tiger seeking easy prey. “So, this is the respect the both of you have for the Millers, eh? I’m not shocked by Matthew here. But, Sarah, I thought sure you’d know better. What would your mama think? You’ve known Mr. Chester and Mrs. Ida all your life!”
“What would my mama think? What are you talking about, Jerry? Since when did you become the grief police? Everyone in town is sad about the Millers. Me included. The real question is why you’re here at 9:30 at night. What business could you possibly have with either of us?”
He put both hands on his hips and patted the gun in his side holster. “It just seems pretty suspect to me. That’s all. Matthew here, disowned by his own family. And then, in no time at all, he convinces two half-senile old people to give him everything they’ve got. And then wouldn’t you know it. They both end up dead!”
