Absence of Grace

by Ann Warner

  In the morning, Clen drove back to the college and parked behind the main building. The rose bush was still there, next to the trellis that no longer needed to be in good repair.

  Clen snipped off three buds just beginning to open and placed them in the water she’d brought, then she sat back on her heels and listened to the buzz of insects as the dawn coolness began to give way to another hot day.

  Nearby, the lilac bush that once shielded her was drooping, probably because it wasn’t getting enough water. Next to it, the patch of earth where Thomasina and Gladiolus planted the yellow tulips that long-ago day was choked with weeds and leaf litter.

  It felt like she could close her eyes and Thomasina and Gladiolus would be there, digging and talking about their lives. Clen wiped at her tears, then she pulled the weeds away from the Gladys rose. She cut back some of the canes, and stepped away, sucking the thumb a thorn pierced. She considered it rather shabby treatment since she’d just ensured the bush would be okay for a couple more years.

  She brushed away the seed and leaf debris on her jeans, then took the roses to the car, and settled them in a cool spot for the drive to Lawrence.

  Lawrence, Kansas

  At the cemetery at the Motherhouse, Clen walked in the direction of the newest-looking stones, relieved she’d managed to arrive at a time when nobody was on the grounds.

  Thomasina’s stone, like all the others, was white and plain: Sister Thomasina Moreland. 1917- 1984. Worry not. As the Father cares for the lilies and the sparrows, He cares for you.

  Clen recognized the inscription. They were the words Gladiolus spoke to comfort Thomasina that time in the garden, and in this moment, Clen felt as if Thomasina was passing that assurance on to her. She didn’t try to stem her tears as she laid two of the roses on the ground by the marker.

  Sister Gladys’s grave was across from Thomasina’s. Clen placed the last rose there.

  Denver, Colorado

  In the early evening, Clen flew from Kansas City to Denver. She called Jason from the airport to let him know she’d arrived.

  “Good grief, sis. About time you let us know where you were.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Gerrum Kirsey?”

  Her heart began to pound with a thick, heavy beat. “What about Gerrum?”

  “Well, first he called the folks looking for you and was surprised to discover Mom wasn’t in the hospital. Ringing any bells, yet?”

  “I can explain.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Just not this minute. I’ll tell you about it when I get there. If you’d give me directions?”

  Jason’s irritation wasn’t the mood she would have chosen for her first visit with her sister-in-law.

  Jason and Nancy had bought a home in a neighborhood where huge trees shaded the uneven slate sidewalks. Yards were small, but they were beautifully landscaped. Clearly, the people who lived here were house and garden-proud.

  Clen found a parking spot on the street, and by the time she was lifting her hand to knock on her brother’s door, the door opened.

  Jason stood there, hair rumpled, tie askew. “Where the hell have you been, sis?”

  “Not exactly the warmest welcome, Jase.”

  “We’ve been worried sick about you. Sure, I get that none of us wants to live in each other’s pockets, except Mom, but Christ, we’re family.”

  “Can I come in at least?”

  He stepped aside and Clen walked past him to hug Nancy, who gave her a sympathetic look. After a nudge from Nancy, Jason went and fetched Clen’s luggage.

  “Are you hungry?” Nancy asked. “We’d just finished dinner when you called, but I’d be happy to heat something.”

  “Thanks. I ate at the airport. A glass of water would be nice, though.”

  She followed Nancy to the kitchen and had taken barely one sip from the water Nancy handed her before Jason was back, looming in the doorway.

  “He’s not really mad at you, you know,” Nancy said smiling at her husband. “He was worried, is all.”

  “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me to report in. After all, I didn’t do it the year I traveled around, and nobody seemed to mind.”

  “Because we weren’t getting calls from strange men trying to find out where you were. So what’s the story,” Jason said, still blocking the doorway.

  “Could we at least sit down?” Clen said.

  “Try the living room,” Nancy said. “I have lesson plans to finish, so I’ll let you two talk.”

  Jason moved to the living room and Clen followed. “I like Nancy.”

  “Yeah, I like her, too. And don’t go trying to change the subject.”

  “I’m not. What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t you begin by telling me about this Gerrum person.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “So we’re playing it that way, are we?” Jason sighed. As a prosecutor, he never surrendered the questioner’s role with good grace. “Said he was a good friend who wanted to make sure you were okay, since you left Wrangell without saying goodbye. If you got in touch, he asked me to tell you he needs to talk to you about Hailey. That it wasn’t what you may have thought. So who is he?”

  “The man I’ve been living with.”

  Jason sat back, blinking. “What happened?”

  “I saw him with Hailey...in his arms.”

  “Maybe she fainted?”

  “In the front hall of his house, at a time they both knew I’d be tied up at the lodge getting dinner?”

  “Okay. Maybe not. But he did say it wasn’t what you thought it was.” Jason frowned. “Didn’t you ask him about it?”

  Clen was tired of that particular question. “I knew something was going on between them. The whole town knew, and Gerrum refused to talk about it.”

  “They were spending time together, in public? And everybody knew? Not trying to be clandestine?”

  “It’s hard to be clandestine in Wrangell. There are people whose major goal in life is to observe who does what with whom and then report it to the rest of us.”

  Jason shook his head. “If Gerrum was so hot for Hailey, why was he living with you?”

  “You might recall, it’s happened to me before.”

  “Yeah. True. But Paul at least tried to sneak around. In my experience most men do, and then they aren’t upset like this Gerrum is when the woman leaves.”

  “Are you sure he’s upset?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “You haven’t met him.”

  “Well, I did do some checking.”

  “You what?”

  “I called the place you’ve been staying. Bear Lodge? Talked to a Marian Jeffers. She couldn’t say enough nice things about the man. Mentioned he’d been an attorney in Seattle. That gave me a whole new avenue to explore. Seems he was very well thought of. I even bought his book.”

  “And you did this because?”

  “Hell, I already told you. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t stalking you.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone less likely to be a stalker than Gerrum Kirsey.”

  Jason stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Okay. When you saw him with Hailey, was he kissing her?”

  Clen looked away from Jason, trying to bring up the image she’d been avoiding for nearly a week. Gerrum, his head bent, his arms around Hailey. And Hailey, her face pressed tight against Gerrum’s shoulder.

  How long did she stand watching them? A few seconds, a minute? Had they kissed? She didn’t think so. Which was peculiar. Shouldn’t they have been kissing? And Gerrum’s hand. He’d raised it and let it rest on Hailey’s head. Patting? As one would to soothe. To calm.

  Had Clen really seen that or was she making it up? And why was it, the more she examined her memories, the more shrouded in mystery they became? As if she were staring at them through a mist that was growing in density the longer she looked.

  She shook her head. “I�
�m not sure.”

  “Don’t you think you would have noticed?”

  “I don’t know, Jase. I suppose I should have, but I didn’t. Could we talk about something else? How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing just swell. Something you’d know if you ever bothered to be in touch.”

  “Mea culpa.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I forgive you.”

  “Phone lines run both ways.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’m not so great in the keeping-in-touch department myself.”

  “You think?” Clen said, relieved the conversation had shifted from Gerrum.

  “Josh would have made sure we all kept in touch.”

  “How can you be so sure? He might have run off to the circus for all we know.”

  “He wanted to be a pilot,” Jason said.

  “Did he?”

  “And a fireman, and a cowboy, and a—”

  “But most of all, he wanted to be a regular kid.” Clen could feel tears gathering. She curled her feet under her on the sofa, trying to get comfortable, although she knew that wasn’t possible.

  “I think about him all the time,” Jason said. “But there’s no one I can talk to about him.”

  “What about the folks?”

  “It makes them sad when I mention him, so I don’t. Do you remember what a joker he was?”

  “Lord, yes. He played enough jokes on me.”

  “I remember one time he turned all your clothes inside out. You always ran late for school. He figured you’d grab something and not notice.”

  Okay, she could play this game. “What was he? Seven? It was third period before someone asked why I was wearing my sweater inside out. Everyone was laughing about it. I wanted to kill him.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, but Jason either didn’t pick up on her choice of words, or chose to ignore them.

  “So is he the one who put the garter snake in the chocolate box, or did you?” she said.

  “I was just an accomplice. The ideas were all Josh’s.”

  “The two of you, always so angelic looking. Although I knew nobody was likely to send me chocolates, I still fell for it.”

  “You were a good sport. Most girls would have fainted or screamed, but you didn’t even rat us out.”

  “More fun to pay you back.”

  “I don’t remember what you did to us after the snake.”

  Clen swiped a hand to brush away the dampness in her eyes. “That was right when he got sick.”

  She wondered if Jason was remembering Josh plotting one of his tricks. As for her, she was fighting off the memory of him lying in bed, quivering with pain.

  “You know, by the time he died, I was relieved,” Jason said. “I couldn’t stand it anymore, seeing him suffer that way.”

  “Me either.” She closed her eyes against the memories. She shouldn’t have come here. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll call it a day.”

  “We get up early around here,” Jason said. “If you’re not up, we’ll leave a key and our phone numbers on the counter. Just don’t go running off without telling us where you’re going. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” She was too tired to argue the point.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Clen awoke to the smell of coffee brewing and the quiet sounds of Jason and Nancy getting ready for work. She stayed in bed until she heard them leave, then took her time getting up. In the kitchen, she found the promised key along with a note and a map.

  Clen, We’re only a couple of blocks from the botanical gardens. I’ve marked the location on the map. We’re members so I’m leaving you the card if you’d like to visit. Help yourself to anything you find in the fridge. I’ll be home by four. Jason usually doesn’t get home until after six. We’ll see you then! It’s supposed to be a nice day. Enjoy. N.

  Clen could well imagine Jase standing at Nancy’s shoulder insisting she add there would be dire consequences if Clen left before they got home. She was glad to know her brother married a woman who would stand up to him.

  While she waited for her toast to pop up, she looked out the window to see there was a small deck with a table and chairs. When her tea and toast were ready, she carried them outside. If anything, Nancy had understated the weather report. It was a gorgeous day.

  And Clen had no idea how she was going to fill it, let alone all the days to follow. She sat with the sun warming her, listening to the birds, until the memories she’d spent twenty years trying to escape blanked everything out.

  You have to help me, Mickey La. I can’t take it anymore. You have to help me die.

  No, Josh. Don’t...

  You said it’s like going to sleep. So I’m thinking, if I’m already asleep, it shouldn’t even hurt.

  Josh, please, don’t ask me to do this.

  You’re the only one I can ask. I’ve figured it out, so you won’t get in trouble. After Mom gives me my shot at midnight, she goes back to bed for a while. That’s when you smother me. With a pillow. I won’t feel a thing.

  Josh, I can’t. I just can’t.

  I’m not getting better. You know I’m not. And it hurts bad. I’m ready, Mickey La, please, help me not to wake up. Don’t make me do this anymore.

  At first, she’d refused to consider it. But every day, whenever they were alone, Josh begged her to make it the last day he had to suffer. And every night, she’d lain awake listening as her mother checked on Josh. Finally, one night, she slipped out of bed after she heard her mother leave Josh’s room.

  Josh was lying curled on his side, his thumb in his mouth, looking the way he had as a baby. She stood watching him a long time before going back to bed.

  The next day was bad. Josh could no longer be soothed by stories and the shots did less and less to dull the pain. When she tried to comfort him, he grabbed her hand. Please, Mickey La. Tonight. You have to. Please.

  That night, she’d again waited until she heard her mother leave Josh’s room, then she’d gone to him, carrying her pillow. The shot he’d just received had done what work it could and he was unconscious, but restless. She reached out and pressed his shoulder to shift him onto his back without waking him. As he moved, a tiny moan escaped, and his thumb popped out of his mouth. She took his hand in hers, feeling bones barely covered with skin. His breathing was shallow, his chest moving only slightly.

  She smoothed the few wisps of hair from his brow and then, finally, she lowered the pillow. Such a simple thing. A pillow. Usually a comfort, something sought to ease the ache of a broken heart. Josh stiffened, his hand fluttering briefly in hers, then he didn’t move again. She held the pillow in place until the clock struck the quarter hour. In the faint light, the ravages of the disease were invisible, and Josh was once again beautiful.

  She’d stayed with Josh, holding his hand, until her mother came to give him his next dose. As he’d predicted, nobody suspected a thing. Her parents didn’t even ask how long she’d been with Josh, or why she hadn’t awakened them. I’m so glad he wasn’t alone, was all her mom said.

  On this beautiful summer day, Clen sat on Jason’s deck in Denver and finally cried for Josh, tears she’d refused to shed for more than twenty years.

  Then she went inside, washed her face, and called Gerrum.

  He wasn’t home, although that was hardly surprising since it was midmorning in Wrangell. He was probably working on the boats, getting them ready for winter.

  “I’m in Denver. At Jason’s.” She tried to think if there was anything else she needed to say, but there wasn’t.

  Eyewitnesses are notoriously inaccurate, Jason once told her. But juries still love them. If she were sworn in and asked to testify to what she’d witnessed at Gerrum’s that day, could she do it? With complete certainty?

  Probably not. The images were overlaid with too much emotion and reaction for her to remember precisely what she’d seen. Which was perhaps why she’d reached a place where she was ready to listen to what Gerrum had to say.

  Waiting for Gerrum’s call, Clen went
to the bookcase in the living room, picked a book at random, and lay on the couch to read. The next thing she knew, she was startled awake, her heart hammering. She tried to work through what awakened her and, after a moment, she realized it must have been the doorbell.