Spring Rain

by Gayle Roper

  She watched him leave and felt the emptiness left by his going. She automatically cleaned the kitchen, aware she was moving in slow motion, stopping again and again to relive that kiss. That wonderful, glorious, guilt-inducing kiss. She felt sixteen years old.

  When she finally finished her cleanup, she stopped to check on the living room gang and was surprised to find them watching John Wayne as McClintock trying to win back Maureen O’Hara as his wife Katherine. What had happened to The Princess Bride? Had that much time really passed while she daydreamed? Standing in the doorway, Julia watched the wonderful fight in the mud, smiling in spite of herself as the glorious O’Hara slid down the hill into the muck.

  But she didn’t feel like joining the family. She wanted to be alone, needed to be alone, so she climbed the stairs and got ready for bed. She washed her face, creaming it carefully to keep the wrinkles at bay—futile hope that was—and brushed her teeth. She did not floss; she hated to floss. Her antifloss stance was one of her small rebellions, and so far she hadn’t suffered anything terrible like gingivitis as a result. Those successful mutinies were the ones she appreciated.

  She settled against her pillows and read for an hour, the novel keeping her mind occupied.

  Then she turned off the light.

  At 3 A.M. she finally gave up and turned the light back on. The bed was a mass of twisted sheets and blankets, mute testimony to her restlessness. She sat up and shook everything straight, plumping the pillows behind her.

  Oh, Lord! Will or David?

  She didn’t know how to articulate her teeming thoughts beyond that one plea. She stared at her wedding band, twisting it much as David had done. She felt his fingers turn it, saw his eyes as he looked at her, felt his kiss.

  She climbed out of bed and went to her jewelry box. She opened the top drawer. Will’s wedding band lay there, and she lifted it out, feeling it cool against her skin. It was gold, worn, with WCW & JTW Ps. 34:3 inscribed inside. William Clayton Wharton and Julia Therese Windsor. O magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together. The same verse was engraved inside her band, the same initials, only in reversed order.

  She had met Will in their freshman English class at Ursinus College in Collegeville, Pennsylvania, when they had been assigned seats next to each other. Wharton, Windsor.

  “Have you got a pen or pencil I can borrow?” he’d whispered when everyone was finally seated that first day.

  She’d looked at him, frowning slightly, to see what type of student forgot a writing implement the first day of classes, only to find him grinning at her. She had fallen for the tall, skinny, premed student from New Jersey immediately and had loved him with her whole heart from that moment on.

  But now Will was gone, and there was David.

  Oh, Lord!

  She laid Will’s ring on the dresser and slid her own wedding band to her first knuckle. She knew she wouldn’t be able to pull it off without the aid of soap. She was a bit heavier than she had been that day in June thirty-six years ago. Will had put it on her finger after the best man—what was his name?—had retrieved it from under the pulpit chair where it had rolled when he had tried to pass it to Will.

  Somehow the necessity of soap—or maybe hand cream—to ease the removal of the ring made the decision to take it off seem more irreversible, more absolute. It wasn’t a matter of just pulling it off; it was rather a definite choice, the putting away of Will and the putting on of David, or at least the possibility of David.

  She squirted hand cream on her right palm and began working it around her third finger. She took hold of the ring and pulled. It caught momentarily on the knuckle and then slid free.

  She stood with the ring in her hand. It was the first time since Will had given her a preengagement ring the Christmas of her junior year that her hands were free of a ring from him.

  Oh, Lord! I don’t know if I can do this! I don’t know if I should do it. Help me, Lord! Help me to know.

  It’s just a ring, she told herself, not quite believing her own thoughts. It’s just a ring. I’m not married anymore. I haven’t been married for more than three long years.

  Right. So why do I feel like an adulteress, standing here in my own bedroom with a high-necked, long-sleeved nightgown on and the only men on the premises my sons?

  She laid her ring on the dresser beside Will’s, noticing as she did so that her hand was shaking. She rubbed the hand cream until it was absorbed. Then she picked up the pair of rings and began nervously fiddling with them, sliding hers through his, laying them in her palm, sticking them both on her thumb. She pulled them off, panicking a moment as Will’s caught on the knuckle. Relief flooded her when it popped off. She slid hers crossways into but not through Will’s. They made a three-dimensional circle, a golden sphere with four ribs.

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied the rings, and she began to smile. She opened her jewelry box again and pulled out a gold chain with a pearl hanging from it, a gift from Will when the twins were born.

  “I wish it could be diamonds,” he had told her as he sat by her bed. “But medical students buy the loves of their lives pearls. Well, one pearl and not a very good one at that. At least this medical student does.” And he’d kissed her and told her how much he loved her and how proud he was of her and his new family.

  She held the chain up to the circle of rings, the pearl hanging inside the golden sphere.

  For the first time in hours she felt her shoulders relax. She didn’t need to put Will away forever, hidden in a jewelry box, feeling guilty about denying thirty-three wonderful years. Their rings could be joined to symbolize the wonder that had been their marriage, and the pearl that represented their sons could hang in its center.

  Thank You, Lord. Thank You. On Monday I’ll go to the jeweler’s and get him to make the necklace. She smiled. And, Lord, maybe someday soon I can give it to Leigh when she marries our Clay.

  She laid the rings on the bureau beside the chain and pearl and climbed back in bed. The light was barely out before she fell into a deep if much too short sleep.

  David was waiting for her in the church narthex the next morning, Easter Sunday. Oh, he might be talking quietly with the Robinsons, but he was waiting for her. She knew it because she had been waiting to see him.

  He seemed to sense when she entered because he immediately looked up from Lisa Robinson. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. Maybe it was the dimple that appeared in his left cheek. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes crinkled when he smiled. Maybe it was the love she saw there. Whatever the reason, the smile warmed her and made her heart beat faster.

  He turned to Lisa and Ron and excused himself. He made unerringly for her.

  This is ridiculous, she thought. I’m fifty-seven. I shouldn’t have to tell myself something outlandish like, “Be still my heart.”

  But she did. Without a second thought she left Clay and Ted, Leigh and Bill and met David halfway. She smiled up at him as he stood close to her, purposely invading her personal space. He lifted a hand and ran a gentle finger under her eye.

  “It looks like you didn’t sleep well last night.”

  She smiled. “You should see the circles without makeup.” She studied his face. “You look a little sleep deprived too.”

  “I spent the night worrying and praying,” he confessed. “I don’t usually have the nerve to be as forthright as I was last evening.”

  She nodded. “But you were right. I needed to make choices.”

  He looked at her, his heart in his eyes. “And did you?” He reached for her right hand.

  She watched him as he studied her unadorned finger, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the indentation left from the ring. When he finally looked up, he had that wonderful smile.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “The service is about to begin.” He took her hand and held it as he led her into the sanctuary.

  Thirty-two

  LEIGH WATCHED JULIA walk off with David and smiled to herself. That roman
ce was clearly speeding down the freeway of life with both participants sitting in the same car and delighted to be driving in the same direction. It must be nice, knowing where you stood—or where you were going, if she held to the same allusion.

  She couldn’t help but glance at Clay, and she swallowed a smile at his frown in the direction of the door Julia and David had vanished through.

  Almost as soon as they disappeared, they reappeared, hands firmly clasped.

  “Come on,” Julia said, holding out her free hand to Ted. Her cheeks were rosy, her faint blush the only evidence that she had almost forgotten her family in the joy of being with David. Ted took her outstretched hand, and they all trailed after her, Ted, Bill, Leigh, and a grumpy Clay bringing up the rear. As they slid into a pew, Leigh was aware of the interest they provoked. Julia and David holding hands. Ted well enough to attend the service. She and Bill and Clay. Her mouth twisted wryly.

  Lord, I hope they can concentrate on the miracle we’ve come to commemorate!

  The sanctuary was crowded with worshipers, the regulars and the CE attenders, those who showed on Christmas and Easter. They listened attentively as Pastor Paul proclaimed, “He is not here. He is risen as He said!”

  The crown of thorns was gone from the rugged cross this morning, and it was draped in royal purple. Easter lilies filled the room, their trumpets silently shouting, “Resurrection!” and their fragrance rising in a sweetly scented offering to the Creator.

  Leigh’s heart leaped in thanks. She could only imagine the bubbling joy within Julia, her spirit bulwarked in resurrection faith and her body bracketed by the man she had fallen in love with and the son who was well enough to come to church today.

  As she sang “Up from the Grave He Arose,” Leigh thought of the two who bracketed her, the child with whom she shared her hymnal and her life and the man who owned her heart.

  Oh, Lord, lead us, Clay, Bill, and me. Teach us. Show us Your will.

  When they took their seats and Clay’s shoulder pressed against hers, she allowed herself to lean into him ever so slightly. She felt him turn to her and smile, and she glanced up with a smile of her own. When she turned back to Pastor Paul, she noticed Bill was leaning forward, looking at her and Clay through narrowed eyes. She patted his knee, and he slouched back in the pew. She took his hand, and he looked scandalized as only a kid can when his mother does something beyond the pale. She grinned at him and after a quick squeeze, released him. He gave a sigh of relief, and she turned her attention to worship.

  When they gathered outside church after the service in the bright spring sunshine, Clay said, “We have a slight detour before we go home.”

  “We do?” Ted said.

  “We do. How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”

  Ted brushed Clay’s questions aside with a wave of his hand. “I’m fine.”

  “Where are we going?” David asked, standing behind Julia, his hand firmly on her shoulder. He was so close to her that Leigh doubted sunlight could slide between them. “We’ll meet you there.”

  It was obvious to anyone watching him that Clay was about to put his foot in his mouth and say something stupid like, “Mom came with us; she’ll leave with us.” Leigh was much relieved when Bill shouted the answer to David’s question before Clay had time to embarrass himself.

  “Pop-pop’s house! We’re going to Pop-pop’s house.”

  “What?” Leigh stared at her son.

  “It’s your Easter present,” Bill said. Pride gleamed in his eyes as he looked at her. “Wait ’til you see. We—”

  “Bill,” Clay said in warning. He gave Bill the quiet signal, finger held over his mouth.

  Bill looked at Clay and giggled conspiratorially, though he was clearly bursting to talk. Gone were the narrowed eyes and the suspicious looks. With a broad grin that showed every one of his back molars, he ushered Leigh to the Cherokee and seated her in the front passenger side. He and Ted climbed in the back.

  Leigh turned and looked at her son. “What’s going on here?”

  Bill wanted to tell so badly he appeared to be in pain, but he kept his secret. “I can’t tell. You have to see.”

  She turned to Clay. “When you two disappeared these past few days, you’ve been taking him to my house, haven’t you? Treasure hunting?”

  “Yes to the first and no to the second.”

  She waited but he said no more. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  He nodded, his attention riveted on the largely empty roads. You’d have thought he was fighting great hordes of summer tourists, so intense was his concentration.

  “You know you’re driving me crazy, both of you!” She flounced back against her seat, making a great show of her frustration. Bill laughed.

  “You two apparently don’t know one of life’s basic rules,” Ted offered. “Never tease a lady on Easter. This is very good advice. The lady will not like it—”

  “And teasing isn’t nice,” Clay finished with him. The brothers laughed.

  Bill and Leigh just stared.

  “A corruption of one of our favorite children’s books,” Clay explained. “Never Tease a Weasel. Mom read it to us on the average of twice a week for years, hoping we’d get the lesson.”

  “Obviously you didn’t,” Leigh said, but she was laughing.

  “Close your eyes, Mom,” Bill instructed as they turned onto the street where the Spenser house sat in solitary splendor.

  Leigh squeezed her eyes tight and put her hands over her closed lids for good measure. The car slowed, then stopped. Expectancy filled the air.

  “Now,” Bill yelled. “Look!”

  Leigh looked, blinked, then blinked again. She knew her mouth was hanging open. She climbed out of the car in a daze.

  The once ragtag, falling-down house actually looked attractive. Not beautiful, that was asking too much, but pretty. In fact, it looked prettier than she’d ever seen it.

  The downspouts and gutters were firmly back in place. The weeds were gone from the walk and the garden. The lawn, still more sand than grass, was raked and groomed. In the garden a quartet of small azaleas, alive with fat pink buds, nestled among the newly opened daffodils. The enormous forsythia was bursting with golden blooms, filling the yard with sunshine. The old aluminum lounge chair had disappeared, and the window frames had been sanded and repainted. The front door was a beautiful Williamsburg blue. It was the door that made her eyes fill.

  “Bill,” she said around the huge lump in her throat. “You did this?”

  He nodded proudly. “Me and Clay. Happy Easter, Mom. Now you can sell it.”

  “Oh, Bill, thank you!” She grabbed the boy and hugged him so hard he made gagging noises.

  She let him go and turned to Clay. “Thank you so much.” How stilted and awkward she sounded. What she really wanted to do was grab him hard too, and not just with gratitude, but aware of her audience she stuck out her hand. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “I don’t get a hug too?” He looked forlorn, a little boy who had just been told the bakery was all out of the sweets he’d come to purchase with his own cash.

  Feeling slightly self-conscious under Ted’s sardonic eye, Leigh wrapped her arms around Clay and squeezed lightly.

  “You can do better than that,” he whispered in her ear as his arms tightened about her.

  “Oh, Leigh, how wonderful it looks,” Julia exclaimed, climbing out of David’s car and saving Leigh from the enticing danger of hugging Clay harder.

  “Doesn’t it?” Leigh turned to Julia in relief. Or was it disappointment? “Bill and Clay did it. It’s my Easter gift.”

  “Just don’t look at the windows on the sides or back,” Clay said. “We’ll get to them at a later date.”

  Everyone walked around the house, laughing at the many unfinished shutters and peeling window frames still needing work. At the back of the house they pointed to the kingfisher sitting on the phone lines that ran parallel to the old
railroad bed. They oohed and aahed as a blue heron lifted gracefully from the marsh and flew off toward the bay.

  David and Julia trailed the rest, with the group yet separate, holding hands and smiling at each other. Whenever the pack stopped moving, they stopped too, slightly behind, leaning into each other.

  “You’d think they can’t stand up alone,” Clay muttered in Leigh’s ear.

  “Isn’t it great?” she whispered back and patted his hand as his face darkened. She had noticed that Julia no longer wore her wedding ring, but she wasn’t going to be the one to call that fact to Clay’s attention.

  She went to the huge forsythia and broke off a great armful of the floral sunshine. “I need enough for Julia, for me, and for my classroom.” She sighed. “I don’t want to go back to school.”

  Bill made a face. “Who does?”

  “I don’t mean to break up a good time, but we need to hurry or dinner will be ruined,” Julia said.

  Everyone climbed back in the cars and went home to an Easter dinner of ham, scalloped potatoes, broccoli casserole, pineapple bake, and fresh rolls. Dessert was Julia’s wonderful apple caramel pie or pecan pie. Afterward, Ted went up for a nap, Bill went home to change into play clothes, Julia and David went into the living room, and Clay and Leigh began the cleanup. When Leigh returned to the dining room for another load of dirty dishes, she found Clay skulking near the living room doorway.

  “Hey, sailor, I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the cleanup.”

  “What’s going on with them?” he demanded with a fierce scowl, staring after his mother and David.

  She looked at him. “Grumpy for Easter Sunday afternoon, aren’t we?”

  “I am not grumpy,” he grumped. “I’m concerned. And I don’t need your editorial comments. What I need are answers.”

  “Then ask them your questions.” She nodded toward Julia and David.

  “I’m asking you.” His tone was testy.

  “Extra sensitive to advice today too, I see.”