Strawberry Wine

by Darly Jamison

  I was vaguely aware of my mother placing a plate in front of me. Numbly, I pushed around the eggs with my fork, not eating or paying attention to the quiet conversation taking place at the table. It wasn’t until Christopher squeezed my knee with his hand that I finally looked up. “Hey,” he said with a small smile.

  “Hey.” My eyes scanned over the kitchen and I realized we were the only two there. “Where’s my mom?”

  “She went to take a shower. I think she just needed to be alone.” He nodded his head toward my untouched plate of food. “You’re not hungry?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “You should probably try to eat something.”

  “I know. I will, just—not right now.” I stood up from the chair and spilled the contents of my plate into the garbage. Filling the sink with warm water, I started to wash the dishes from breakfast when suddenly I felt Christopher come up behind me, the warmth of his hands resting firmly on my shoulders.

  “Addy, what can I do for you?”

  Turning into him, I laid my head against his chest. “What you’re doing right now. Just hold me.”

  We stood for several moments, neither one of us saying a word. Finally, the ring of a cell phone pierced through the silence. Christopher stepped back and reached into the pocket of his shorts, a look of dismay covering his face when he took in the display screen of his phone. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.” He gave me an apologetic smile as he walked toward the back door and stepped out into the sunshine, closing the door behind him.

  Sinking back into the kitchen chair, I wrapped my robe tightly around me, realizing for the first time I was still wearing my pajamas.

  Too exhausted to care, my eyes homed in on a microscopic scrape marking the wall, staring at it until my mind went blank. Avoiding thoughts, I just sat in silence, allowing myself to retreat into the comfortable stillness of the house. My eyes closed as I relaxed against the back of the seat, the rich textures of outdoor sounds filling my senses. The noises didn’t feel as mocking as they had earlier, now they were just there. A reminder that life was still going on around me, even though one existence had been cut short.

  I could almost hear Mags’s voice inside my head telling me things would be okay. “Everything in life is temporary,” she would say. “Every time it rains, it always stops. After the darkness, there is always light. Sometimes these things are easy to forget and we get caught up believing our pain will last forever. But it won’t. Nothing lasts forever. Even life.”

  The sound of Christopher opening the back door caused me to open my eyes. “Addy, I’m so sorry to do this to you, but I have to leave.” A look of alarm covered his face.

  I sat up straight in my chair. “What? Why? Is something wrong?”

  He pushed a hand through his cropped hair. “Mrs. Davenport took a turn for the worse. She’s not doing well at all.”

  “But there are other doctors working this weekend. Surely they can take care of things until you get back?”

  Christopher paced the length of the kitchen in long strides, his expression torn. “I know, but I’m her primary doctor. No one knows her the way I do.”

  I held my breath. “When do you have to leave?”

  Stopping in front of me, he took my hands, pulling me to a standing position. “The sooner the better.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. After everything that just happened he wanted to leave? “But what about Mags and my family? What about me?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, his gaze met mine and held it tightly. “Addy, this is my job, you know that. I’m never truly off work.” He gave me a sympathetic smile and lifted his hand to my cheek. “I am so sorry you lost your grandmother, and I’ll do my best to make it back in time for the funeral. But Mrs. Davenport is still alive, and I have a responsibility to take care of her.”

  “What about your responsibility to take care of me?” I asked, disbelief seeping into my words. “I’m going to be your wife, then we’ll be family. Will you put your patients before me then? Will you put them before our children?”

  “We never spoke about having children.”

  I felt a rush of warmth cover my face. “We have spoken about children! You’ve always said you love them.”

  “I do love them, but that doesn’t mean I want them.” He sighed again, releasing the air slowly. “Look, Addy. My career is very demanding of my time, and I can’t choose when emergencies will happen. If you want to have children, that’s something we can talk more about, but you have to understand that this is my job. Being a doctor is what I went to school for, it’s what I have worked so hard to obtain. There may be times when I have to leave and you need to handle things on your own.” His expression softened as he watched his words register. “I love you, Addy, that will never change, but this is who I am. I’m sorry if it upsets you. I know this is the first time we’ve been involved in a situation like this, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

  The honesty of his words sank in. Was he foreshadowing our future together? My gaze fell as I contemplated what to say. “What if you can’t make it back in time? What if you miss the funeral?”

  Christopher gave me a slight shrug. “Then I won’t make it back. Even if I can’t be with you, it doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking of you and your family.” He brought me into his chest and brushed a soft kiss over my forehead. “I’m very sorry.”

  I bit my bottom lip, not knowing how to respond. Christopher wasn’t a bad guy, he was just deeply dedicated to his profession. I couldn’t blame him for that. Nodding against the soft cotton of his nightshirt, I felt my breath catch.

  “I know you are. I’m sorry, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  An hour later, Christopher had his belongings packed into his car and said good-bye to my parents, offering his deepest sympathy and apologizing for having to leave so abruptly. They said they understood, sometimes work can’t wait, but it was impossible to read their expressions beyond their words. They were caught up in grief, their thoughts on the tragedy that had fallen upon them.

  Christopher held me in a tight embrace before settling down into the driver’s seat. “Are we okay?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

  Stepping back, I nodded. “We’re okay. You have a job to do, I understand that.”

  He adjusted himself in the seat and closed the door, rolling down the window. “I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how things are going. Maybe by then your family will have a better idea of when the funeral will be.”

  I nodded again. “That sounds good.” Christopher reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, smiling slightly as he gave it a soft kiss. I studied his face. It was obvious he felt guilty about leaving me behind. “Drive safely.”

  “I will.” He gave my hand one last squeeze before letting go.

  Standing in the driveway, I watched the black Audi as it pulled smoothly out of the drive, turning onto the street and away from the farm. I swallowed hard, my chest feeling hollow. Unease crept into my thoughts, different from what I had felt that morning after learning about Mags. This new sensation settled in deep, stirring up confusion and debate. The conversation Mags and I had started the night before, when she asked if I was certain about spending my life with Christopher, began to nag at me. I’d blown it off when she’d brought it up, but now it was back, staring me in the face. Trusting Mags’s advice was never something I had questioned before; why was I questioning it now? Could she somehow see something about my relationship I couldn’t? And now I would never know. The possibility of continuing our conversation had been snuffed out in the wee hours of the morning, when she’d taken her last breath.

  There was a point in my life, not very long ago, when I knew exactly what I wanted, but now I wasn’t so sure. How could my entire existence fall to pieces in such a short amount of time? It was impossible for me to know if I was questioning my future with Christopher based on a he
art-to-heart with Mags, or if I had every right to contemplate it based on his decision to leave me when I needed him most. And I was questioning it. Maybe his leaving was a sign.

  What if the connection I thought we shared wasn’t as strong as I had believed? I understood he had a job to do, and it was an important one at that, but the choice to return to Atlanta cut deep. It stung in a way nothing else ever had. Betrayal and disappointment devoured me, and I couldn’t tell if my feelings were justified or if I was being selfish. Either way, Christopher’s departure tormented me, and I trembled with the thought of it.

  I turned and walked back toward the house, taking my time as I climbed the stairs to the front porch. Sitting down on the top step, I stretched my legs out before me, my nightgown hitching up above my knees. I tilted my head toward the sky, closing my eyes and allowing the soft rays of the sun to warm my skin as they plunged to the earth. The events of the day were taking their toll, and every part of me ached with exhaustion.

  I dipped my head to the right and leaned forward, my gaze settling on the farmhouse next door. Gramps was there, all alone, for the first time in God knew how long.

  For the past five decades, he and Mags had never been far from one another. Even during the day when he was working in the sweltering fields, she was always nearby, waiting for him to return. Their love was noble and timeless, surviving the ups and downs of life in a way many couples were not able to mimic. What was he doing now? What was going through his mind?

  My heart swelled with sympathy and I swallowed hard, trying to relieve the ache in my throat. I was torn between wanting to give him space to grieve and wanting to go to him, to comfort him and let him know everything would be okay. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if things would ever be okay again.

  So many emotions filtered through my thoughts. This was the hardest challenge I had ever encountered and I felt overcome by shock, confusion, and regret. Why did I ever move away? How could I have been so selfish? All those years wasted ...

  I knew I was being silly, that I needed to live my own life, but I couldn’t help feeling shameful at the same time. I felt hungry for answers and solutions I knew I would never get.

  Placing my hands behind me, I pushed myself up from the porch and stood, slowly stretching the muscles in my back and shoulders. Every part of me felt knotted and tense, weak with grief and loss. I need time to myself, to process my bereavement, but more important than that, I needed to check on my parents. As hard as losing Mags was on me, I knew they were hurting, as well.

  When I walked into the house, soft music wafted through the rooms, a soulful tune I recognized immediately. I never could understand my grandmother’s love of old country music. When I would ask her why she listened to it, she would always say it inspired her. At the time I thought she was being silly, but now I could feel it. The passion in the singer’s voice was undeniable, and a feeling of longing settled in my chest.

  I followed the sound into the kitchen, where I found my parents sitting at the table, their hands folded neatly in front of them on the kitchen table, their eyes staring, unseeing.

  “What are you listening to?”

  I sat down at the table next to my mom. “Hummingbird cake? I haven’t had that in ages.”

  Mom reached over to stroke my hair, grasping a thick lock and letting it slip slowly through her fingers. “I know. She sure did love to bake.” A sad smile played on her lips. “I remember when you were little, you always wanted to help her in the kitchen. You remind me so much of her, you know that? There is so much of Mags in you.”

  I smiled back, pride swelling in my chest. “Why did you make a hummingbird cake?”

  “Well, you know I’m no Mags in the kitchen,” she said with a chuckle, “but someone from work was retiring, and hummingbird cake is her favorite. Your grandmother was kind enough to help me make it.”

  “I’m going to miss her cooking. I’m going to miss everything about her,” I said, looking over at my father’s expression. His eyes were downcast as a tear slid down his cheek, and my heart broke all over again.

  Mom and I exchanged a look, and I saw the worry heavy on her face.

  “Nothing will ever be the same,” Dad said suddenly. “Dinners, holidays, the farm.” His voice cracked with emotion. “And Dad . . . How is he ever going to get by without her?”

  I reached over and grasped his hands in my own. “You’re right, Daddy. Things will never be the same, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be good again. It’s going to take some time for us to heal. I don’t think we ever will entirely, especially when we weren’t expecting to lose her so suddenly, but I know Mags would want us to move on, or at least do our best to try. It won’t be easy and we’ll be lost for a while, maybe a long while, but we’ll get through this together. I think we should take comfort in knowing how much she loved us and knowing that she knew how much we loved her. Not every family can say that.”

  My father lifted his moist eyes until they met mine and he gave me a small smile. “You sound just like her right now.” He leaned over and gathered me in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek against him. “Me, too. I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Oh, baby girl. You have a life back in Atlanta. We’ll be fine here. Don’t you worry.”

  “If you change your mind, just say the word and I’ll stay.” Taking a deep breath, I felt a slight weight lift from my shoulders. If my family needed me, back home was where I would be. Everything in Atlanta could wait. A wave of relief washed over me, and even if it was only for a moment, I welcomed it. A part of me had died that morning with Mags, but I knew now everything would be okay. It had to be.

  * * *

  After removing the pajamas I had worn all day I hopped into the shower, allowing a small amount of anger and pain to wash away as the stream of hot water beat against my body. I knew the respite was temporary—every moment brought on new emotions—but I would take any bit of relief I could find.

  When the water ran cold, I stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel tightly around me, then wandered back to my bedroom. As I opened the closet door, my eyes danced over a wardrobe I hadn’t seen in ten years. I pulled out a sundress and my old boots, the red leather soft with age. Dropping the towel, I slipped the dress over my head, the white fabric skimming against my bare skin.

  My fingers worked their way through wet strands of hair, releasing the long tangles before they fell in waves around my shoulders. As I slid on my cowboy boots, my eyes caught the reflection in the full-length mirror attached to my closet door.

  Standing tall, I walked over to it and stared at the image looking back at me. It had been a long time since I had let my hair flow naturally, without using a straightener to smooth out the waves. The dress and boots still fit comfortably, and seeing them now brought a smile to my lips.

  The girl in the mirror looked like someone I had known a very long time ago. Someone who was young and innocent and full of life and enthusiasm, dreaming about the future that lay ahead. She was a far cry from the reserved, coiffed professional whose gaze held mine only the day before.

  I reached for the bottle of moisturizer in my overnight bag. I put a big glop in my hand and began to rub it into my skin. I moved around my room as I worked the lotion up my arms, stopping briefly at the pictures lying fanned out across my desk.

  Picking them up, I studied the first one, a photograph of Ruby and me during our senior year of high school, for several moments before moving it to the back of the pile.

  The next one, I lingered over longer. It was an image of my grandparents’ kitchen, the long rectangular table filled with family and friends enjoying the Sunday-night dinner Mags and Gramps hosted once a month.

  It was nothing fancy—usually everyone brought a dish and gathered together after church for a quiet, relaxing day free from work on the farm. When I was younger, Mags would always give me impo
rtant responsibilities, mashing the potatoes or setting the table, and make such a big deal over my efforts, even if I did make a big mess most of the time.

  I moved over to the pictures that hung on my wall, getting lost in the memories of my childhood. Photographs of me growing up on the farm and pictures taken during my school years. One of Gramps kissing Mags on the cheek and another of Mags and me at my high school graduation, her arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder and a look of pride across her face.

  There were even some taken of Ruby and me at the Strawberry Festival, including the year she’d been crowned queen.

  I walked to my bookshelf, pulling out a leather-bound album, and sat on my bed. Turning the cover, I slowly flipped through nearly eighteen years of caricatures, my smile growing wider with each one.

  Until I came to the final one drawn of me the summer before my senior year. My fingers traced the outline of the person sketched next to me, the only time I’d ever had company during a sitting. The dark waves and brilliant blue eyes stared back at me, and a feeling of nostalgia took me by surprise.

  “Are you okay? You have a funny look on your face.”

  I closed the album and turned to the sound of my mother’s voice. “I’m fine. Just reminiscing is all.” I stood up from the bed and gave her a hug. “I’d like to take care of the funeral arrangements.” I picked up a handful of pictures. “I’ll put together something everyone will enjoy so you don’t have to worry about it. Then you and Dad can concentrate on Gramps.”

  Mom’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That would be great, Addy. Thank you. Dad is with Gramps now,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe how blindsiding this is.”

  “How are you?” I asked.

  She took a deep, ragged breath. “Coping,” she said with a wistful smile. “I’m so sorry you lost your grandmother. I know how special she was to you.” Her eyes grew misty as they flitted across my face, trying to gauge my response. “You don’t have to be so strong, you know that, right? It’s okay to cry.”