The Will of Wisteria

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  Ainsley squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. Elizabeth let go and swiped at the tears on her face.

  “Amen,” Hazel finished.

  “Amen,” everyone responded—including Elizabeth.

  “Now let’s eat some of this wonderful food.”

  Elizabeth watched the love that emanated from Hazel to her children—indeed, to everyone in the room. She wondered briefly if she should introduce Hazel to Esau. She laughed to herself, then sat back and enjoyed this surprisingly rewarding moment.

  “Come walk with me,” Dr. Nadu said as Jeffrey walked through the door.

  “Do you want to tell me where we’re going?” Jeffrey’s tennis shoes squeaked on the tile as he tried to keep up.

  “And take away the mystery? Certainly not.”

  “I didn’t figure you would.”

  The gold vinyl chairs of the emergency waiting area came into view. Jeffrey felt his heart lurch slightly. Every time he came near the emergency room, he saw his son lying on the table.

  Dr. Nadu leaned closer. “You can handle this, Jeffrey, I assure you.”

  The double doors to the emergency room opened. Dr. Moss, who had treated Jacob, was waiting for them as they rounded the corner. He handed the chart to Dr. Nadu.

  “No, give this one to Dr. Wilcott.”

  The surgeon hesitated momentarily, then placed the chart in Jeffrey’s hands. “We have a seven-year-old girl with severe burns to both legs caused by a motorcycle engine.”

  Jeffrey turned to Dr. Nadu and shoved the chart in his direction. “I can’t do this. You know I can’t do this.”

  Dr. Nadu stood his ground and never even reached for the chart. “Dr. Wilcott, we do not travel along the paths of our lives so that we can pretend they never happened. We travel them so that when we encounter others on the same journey, we can comfort and help them. You’ve experienced the most difficult of losses. Now it is your turn to comfort. You are an extraordinary physician. You know what to do.”

  Jeffrey’s arms fell numbly to his sides. “I’m not ready.”

  “We are never completely ready, Jeffrey. But we must always be available. This is your moment.”

  Jeffrey studied the face of his mentor. The nine months with Dr.

  Nadu had brought a respect. A respect no one had ever held in his life. Unfortunately, not even his father, at least while he was alive.

  “Are you coming?” asked Dr. Moss.

  Dr. Nadu crossed his arms and gave Jeffrey a reassuring nod.

  Jeffrey turned toward the bed where the little girl lay. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  Later that afternoon Dr. Nadu walked into Jeffrey’s makeshift office. “You did a wonderful job with that family today.”

  “You’re a sink-or-swim kind of teacher.”

  “You swim well.” Dr. Nadu sat down and tented his fingers together. “Jeffrey, when I agreed to take you on for a year, I thought it was a mistake. A rather large mistake, I might add. But now—” He paused. “I am still uncertain as to why you wanted to work with me. But I would be honored if you would consider becoming a partner in my practice.”

  Jeffrey stared at him, overwhelmed by the enormity of the request, by its weight and privilege.

  Dr. Nadu raised his head and turned it slightly. “Jeffrey Wilcott is speechless. Amazing.” He smiled broadly, his teeth white and even against the brown of his skin. “You are an exceptional doctor, Jeffrey. You came in here arrogant, ready to teach me something, but you have in the long run proved to be teachable. And you have faced your greatest tragedy and yet survived.”

  He stood up. “I know you have your own practice, but no matter what decision you make, I just wanted you to know that I’ve found it an interesting journey these past months, and I could see us making a fine team.”

  Jeffrey still sat silent.

  Dr. Nadu opened the door and peered back over his shoulder at Jeffrey. “Many doctors have come to me here asking for such a position. You should know this is the first time I have ever offered it.” He closed the door behind him.

  Mary Catherine passed out report cards as each student left on Friday. Some gave her smiles, a few brought her cookies from home. Terrance brought her a picture of himself. Nicole slipped out past her without speaking.

  She walked into the hall and peered down the corridor, just catching a glimpse of Nicole’s pink pants.

  “Nicole!” she called out.

  Nicole didn’t turn around.

  “Stop this minute!” she demanded.

  Half the students in the hallway froze, and so did Nicole. Mary Catherine caught up to her and stood in front of her, holding out her report card. “You forgot this.”

  “I didn’t forget it.” Nicole stood, arms folded across her chest.

  “You don’t care that you made all As except for the one semester you refused to take my test?”

  Nicole shifted slightly.

  “You’re not stupid, Nicole. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you know how smart you are. There are other worlds than your mother’s, and you know it.”

  Nicole’s eyes blazed red-hot at the mention of her mother.

  Mary Catherine chose her words carefully. “You’re not lost potential, Nicole. You’re just misguided potential. Now take your report card so you will always know how gifted you really are.”

  Nicole snatched the report card from Mary Catherine’s hand. “Are you finished?”

  Mary Catherine stepped aside. “Yes, I’m finished.”

  Nicole pushed past her and continued down the hall, tossing her report card in the trash can as she went by.

  Jeffrey opened the car door on Friday evening and collapsed into the seat. His habitual remedy to relieve the stress of the week would have been to crawl into the arms of a woman. Didn’t really matter which woman. But the young girl with the burns had dominated Jeffrey’s thoughts and absorbed his time and attention. He simply found it hard to leave.

  His mind had ached all week over the load that Claire must have endured. He watched these parents with a different keenness, a different level of compassion than he had otherwise known.

  When he pulled up in front of the house, Claire was outside with a small trowel in one hand and a Gerber daisy in the other. He watched her for a moment. She didn’t hear him approach, and once he saw the iPod earphones, he understood why.

  “Claire,” Jeffrey said.

  There was no response. She dropped the Gerber daisy into the shallow hole she had dug and patted the earth around it.

  He squatted on the sidewalk next to her. “Claire!”

  She jerked around and grabbed her chest. “Jeffrey, what in the world are you doing here?” She pulled the earphones out and jumped to her feet.

  He stood up. “I just thought you had ignored me long enough.”

  She got to her feet and headed to the house, removing her gardening gloves as she walked. “I intended to ignore you forever.”

  “That was what I figured.”

  She slipped off her rubber clogs at the front door, dropped the gloves on top of them, and let herself into the foyer. Jeffrey followed.

  “You can’t stay mad at me forever.”

  She turned and looked at him. “Jeffrey, I don’t waste my energy being angry. And trust me, if that was the land I wanted to live in, I’d be far more angry over the fact that my son died at the age of thirteen than over the fact that my ex-husband, after almost twenty years, still has no self-control with women.”

  “But it wasn’t what you think.”

  She chuckled as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled out her tea pitcher. “It was never what I thought, was it?”

  “Okay, you’re right. You have every reason in the world not to trust me—to hate me even. I wouldn’t blame you. To be honest, it still amazes me that you ever allowed me into Jacob’s room, much less into your life.”

  She poured some tea into a glass but didn’t bother to offer him any.

  “I don’t claim to know ho
w you feel, or how you’ve dealt with all of this. But the one thing I do know is this: whether you want to admit it or not, you were willing to open your heart up to me. You probably won’t believe me, but that woman in the boardroom with me was a patient—an irate patient who had a botched breast augmentation and wanted me to see how poorly it had been done.”

  Claire raised her right eyebrow. He could tell she was having difficulty preventing herself from rolling her eyes.

  “I admit, there have been multiple women who have come through my office that attracted me.”

  This time she did roll her eyes. “No kidding.”

  “I’ve been stupid. I’ve been careless, and I’ve let my desires rule me most of my life. That’s why what I’m about to tell you may sound like the craziest thing you’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m used to crazy. Try me.”

  “I love you, Claire. You are the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.”

  “Well, if that’s how—”

  “I know. If that is how I love somebody, you’d hate to see what I’d do to the woman I don’t love. Well, there are two other wives who could tell you all about that. And because I love you so much, I’m going to leave you alone until the old Jeffrey is gone. Completely and totally gone.”

  He inched in closer to her.

  “I have never known how to love well. I’ve never thought of anyone other than myself. I’ve never cared that my actions had repercussions for anyone else. But I do know this: as much as I was ever capable of loving, Claire, I loved you.”

  She didn’t speak, but the expression on her face told him she knew it was true.

  “I never fought for you before. I’ve never fought for anyone. But I want to learn to love you. I want to learn to love you the right way. The way you deserve. I’m not the same man I was, Claire. But I’m not what you deserve yet either.” He shrugged. “I will be. I promise. And when I am, I’m coming back here, and I hope you’ll let me love you well.”

  He leaned over and kissed her warm cheek. He wanted to linger there, just pressed against her skin, but she didn’t deserve to be toyed with. She was still leaning motionless against the countertop when he let himself out.

  He slid behind the steering wheel and leaned on it, exhaling a sigh of relief. He had no idea when he’d return, or if she’d even answer the door when did. Now he could only hope and pray.

  Maybe he’d ask Matthew to pray. He was still much better at it than Jeffrey was.

  Jeffrey had to call information to get the number. He pulled over to the side of the road and put it into his speed-dial list, then punched it up on the drive home. “I hear you have a new live-in.”

  “Who told you?” Mary Catherine asked.

  “Elizabeth. She said Will told her.”

  “That boy can’t keep his trap shut.”

  “Want to bring her over to watch a movie?”

  Mary Catherine’s voice went up an octave. “Excuse me?”

  “I said,” he repeated slowly, “do . . . you . . . want . . . to . . . bring—”

  “Like, come to your house?”

  “Yeah, like come to my house.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Not lately, no.”

  “I don’t even know where you live.”

  With a shock he realized he didn’t know where she lived either.

  He knew she was on the Isle of Palms, but he had no idea where. “You’re right, Mary Catherine. I hadn’t even thought about that. Sad, isn’t it?” “Dreadfully.”

  “So, do you want to come?”

  “You ordering pizza?”

  He laughed.

  “This kid is about to eat me out of house and home.”

  “I know, I have one. I’ll get pizza. Plus, Matthew will love her.”

  “She likes adventure movies.”

  “Then I know he’ll love her.”

  Elizabeth walked into the backyard, the steam from her coffee cup rising into the early morning air. She walked around the edge of the pool and dipped her toes into the cool water. Walk, dip, walk, dip. The bottom edge of her pajama leg came up wet, so that the strawberries printed across the green fabric looked fresh and washed and ready for eating.

  The morning was warm, the water perfect. But just as she was heading back in for her swimsuit, the back gate opened.

  She saw his brown curls first. He closed the gate behind him and walked determinedly in her direction.

  “Aaron, what are you—”

  He was standing in front of her before she could finish her sentence. “No, you’re not to talk. You’re to listen.”

  He took the coffee cup from her hands and set it on the small stone table between two lounge chairs that flanked the edge of the pool.

  “You know I love you, Elizabeth Wilcott. And I know you love me, although whether you’ve admitted it to yourself is another matter. Now, I can’t take away all your demons. You’ll have to work through those somehow. But I’m not living like this. Apart from you. Away from you. You’re not running from me anymore.”

  He wrapped his tanned arms around her waist. He had never been so close before. The warmth of his breath washed over her face.

  Her pulse quickened. She knew him so well, yet seeing him this way felt so strange.

  He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could speak, she leaned into him and kissed him—a deep, slow, passionate kiss. The kiss she had wanted for years without realizing it.

  At last he pulled away and came up for air. “Well, I didn’t expect you to make the first move.”

  She felt her face flush, and she leaned against him. “I didn’t expect that either.” Then she laughed. “But I am a control freak, you know.”

  “Ah,” he said, “but you don’t get to decide everything.” And to prove his point he kissed her again—a kiss that left her wishing she had given up control sooner. Much sooner.

  the

  second

  will

  August

  One Year Later

  chapter thirty-nine

  Elizabeth didn’t know how it would arrive. She was just hoping that there wouldn’t be a need for a midnight abduction and a black bag over her head.

  The request was delivered by a man in a three-piece black suit who looked as if he had just left his position as the local funeral home director. With a stiff and formal silence, he handed over an elegant invitation engraved with gold lettering:

  Your presence is requested this evening at Wisteria Plantation at half past six for the reading of the will of Elijah Clayton Wilcott II. Immediate family only, please.

  As Elizabeth drove up the dirt road, she took in the tranquil beauty of the plantation. Since Jeffrey burned down the barn, she was able to enjoy this place for the first time in years. This home. Her home.

  She wished she had told him sooner. She wished she hadn’t let that one moment of terror and pain rob her of so many years. But she would waste no more time wishing. Today she would be grateful for the stillness in her soul.

  Some people in life experienced instant miracles: a cancer cured, a marriage mended, a life rescued. But it hadn’t been that way for her. Instead, it had been a process. She had healed a little that morning at the Waffle House with Ainsley Parker—the healing of simple laughter and friendship. And a little more when Hazel had hugged her and prayed for her. Still more over a nice dinner with a brother she was finally getting to know.

  And allowing Aaron to love her, allowing herself to love him in return, had restored so much of the ground she thought she had lost. Whatever was to come in the future, she believed, would also be used to complete her recovery.

  But as Wisteria Plantation came into view, something else struck her as strangely healing. Assuming this entire thing wasn’t a hoax, she was only moments away from receiving her inheritance. But she could just as readily turn the car back around and drive away without ever knowing what inheritance might have been hers. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the life sh
e had created—or the one that had re-created her—over the course of the past year. The one her father had known would be for her good.

  A sense of freedom, of liberation, surged through Elizabeth’s veins. At the curve of the driveway she caught a glimpse of something expansive and purple and brilliant. Her father’s wisteria, its flowers draping like bunches of grapes.

  Little vines spread out from the tops of the sculpted plants, connecting one plant to the next, encircling the entire driveway.

  Encircling her.

  Embracing her.

  Elizabeth leaned her head back against her headrest and took in every graceful arch of the dark green vine, every lush and magnificent cluster of purple flower.

  All her life it had been there, growing, multiplying, blossoming with wild abandon, yet beautifully molded, and she had never really seen it before. She resisted the urge to shout for sheer exhilaration. She hummed softly instead, knowing that, for the first time in her life, there wasn’t a sound she could make that wouldn’t be heard.

  It was a magnificent day. Jeffrey drove with the top down and inhaled deeply of the fragrant wisteria as he approached his family home. His heart had been opened in so many ways over the last year. And now he could not just see things but appreciate them as well, things like an amazing South Carolina afternoon, the familiar smell of his heritage and family. His family. This year had given him the rare opportunity to learn what family really meant. He had never truly known before.

  For thirty-eight years, Jeffrey Wilcott had thought of nothing except Jeffrey Wilcott. And yet over the last six months, he had discovered that he was actually capable of more. Much more. Real feelings. Feelings that weren’t wrapped up in selfish desires, but emotions uncontaminated by self-centeredness. Feelings that were simply right.

  Jacob’s death had been the catalyst. Opening himself to Jacob meant opening himself to heartache. And that vulnerability brought gifts he had never imagined. The softness of Matthew’s skin. The awareness of his own failures. The newly awakened love for Claire. Pain, compassion, joy, sorrow, loss, and shame. And most importantly, forgiveness.