by Leanna Ellis
With a trembling feeling inside, I park in front of Terry’s home. Already there’s a pink mourning wreath on the door. “We should have brought something.”
Pam touches my arm. She has a calm, reassuring way about her. “Something won’t make her feel better.”
But something would give us something to talk about, something to say, something to focus on. Or that’s what Marla would do. That’s how she would respond. So maybe Pam’s way is best.
Surprisingly Terry is more pulled together than I ever would have imagined. She shows us inside and we meet her sister, Beth, before she hurries off to the kitchen and gives us a few minutes together.
Terry gives me another fierce hug. “Thanks for coming.”
When tears threaten, I blink hard. “We didn’t want to intrude.”
Pam waves us toward the sofa and sits down with us. “I could use a distraction or two.”
Pam sits on one side of Terry. “Can we get you anything? Or do anything for you?”
“I can’t think of anything. Of course,” she gives an odd laugh, “I can’t put two thoughts together.”
Pam nods and I follow suit, sitting next to my friend, my heart as heavy. Then silence invades. I glance at Pam, try to take cues from her. She seems content in the emptiness where I want to fill it up. But with what?
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Terry leans back into the sofa and rubs her brow. “When Lily was born, I never imagined something like this could happen. When I married . . . I never thought anything could break us up. But Miles can’t cope. He’s a basket case. He says he may not even go to the funeral. Can you imagine?”
Pam scoots closer to Terry and places an arm around her shoulder. “Men struggle with grief, with expressing themselves.”
“Maybe I should have been there more for him. Maybe I ignored him too much while I tended Lily.”
I touch my shoulder to Terry’s. “You did what you had to do.”
“Even when Luke was dying,” Pam’s voice is feather-soft, “I felt guilty for taking care of the kids, thinking he needed me. And when I took care of him, I felt guilty for not being there for the kids. I felt fractured.”
Terry nods, her mouth compressed into a tight line. “Exactly. It was a no-win situation.” She stares down at her clasped hands, her knuckles white. Then her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m all alone.”
As quickly as the tears appear, she jumps up from the sofa, sniffing, wiping her nose with a tissue she pulls from her pocket. “I’m okay.” She holds out a hand to keep us from approaching. “Really.”
Pam crosses her legs. “Have you ever read Proverbs 31?”
“Who hasn’t?” Terry searches her pocket.
I spot a box of tissues on the table and hand her a fresh one. “It’s the overachieving woman of the Bible.”
“With servant girls,” Terry adds.
Our laughter diffuses the tension in the room.
“That’s what I used to think.” Pam rubs the palm of her hand. “But then someone explained to me what it actually says. It says a woman of noble character—”
“That makes me feel like a failure right there.” Where is Pam taking this conversation? I thought we were supposed to help lift Terry’s mood?
“Yeah.” Terry paces. “All I can think of doing at the moment is anything but noble. Like smacking my husband. Or punching the wall.”
I nod.
But Pam claps her hands. Just one solid clap. “Exactly. But in reality, in the original language, that word isn’t noble. It’s valor.”
I blink. “Really?”
Terry stills then blows her nose.
“Gives a whole different picture to that passage, doesn’t it?”
Terry nods and I stand, move toward her and place my arms around her. “You definitely qualify for a medal of valor.”
Back at the natatorium, I’m sitting on one of the boards, my bare feet in a puddle of water, dreading my turn in the lane, next to Jack. He hasn’t emerged from the dressing area yet. I do a little stretching, not that it will help much. Mostly I cinch the terrycloth belt at my waist and pull my cover-up tighter around me. The swimmer in the lane where I’ll soon be plunged does a flip at the end and strokes back across the pool. Something red to my left catches my eye. Harry walks in my direction and carries red roses in his arms.
“Kaye!” He grins as he approaches. “How’s the event going?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“When we first got here, we heard Lily had passed away, so we went and got flowers for Isabel.”
“That’s very sweet of you. She’s up in the stands somewhere.” I glance upward until I locate her fuzzy head.
He nods, his gaze following mine. “Are you getting ready to swim?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It’ll probably be half a lap.”
He laughs. “Then I won’t bother sponsoring you per lap. How about if I just leave a check?”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Harry. Thank you. How’s Marla?”
“She’s around.” He leans toward me, and I smell some light aftershave on his skin. “She was feeling . . . well, you know. She’s . . . around here somewhere. Didn’t want to make a show of being here.”
I’m actually surprised she came. Maybe it’s a step in the right direction. “That was kind of her to come too. Please thank her for us, in case I don’t see her.”
“I will. I will.” He lifts the roses and lets them fall back to his other hand, making tiny bits of water pop outward.
“You really love Marla, don’t you?”
His lips flatten. “Have for a long time.”
“Did you meet in the village?”
“Oh, no. I unstopped many a toilet at her house. Twenty-five years worth.”
“Really!”
He nods. “Knew her husband too. He was a good man. Attentive to his home. And I try to be as well. I don’t want you to think I’m some stranger stalking Marla.”
I laugh. “Not at all. I can tell.”
“You can?”
I lean back, resting my weight on my hands, the board scratching my palms. “That other man . . . Anderson. He was peculiar. He didn’t care about Marla. Not the way you do. Or I didn’t think so. Not the peripheral things in her life anyway. But you . . . you’re just different, Harry. In a very good way.” I imagine what a good husband he was and what a good husband he’ll be to Marla if she ever gives him the chance. “Do you have children, Harry?”
“No, we never did. We weren’t able and there weren’t test tubes for that then. But we had each other. And that was enough. But now, now that my wife is gone . . . I wish we’d had children . . . grandchildren.”
I cup my hand around his and give a little squeeze. If anyone can teach Marla about love and what it means, I believe Harry can. “I think you’ll be good for her.”
“I’ll try. But what about you, Kaye?”
“Me?” I stand and give my arms a shake, doubtful they’ll be able to pull me very far in the water.
He looks down for a moment. “Cliff married someone else.”
“That was for the best.” It’s a glib line that comes straight from my heart. There was a time when I might have said those exact words but not meant them. They would have rung false. But not now. “Really, I’m all right.”
“You gotta look at the bright side.”
“You’re right. And I think, maybe . . .” My gaze swerves toward Jack, who is walking toward us, his torso bare, his tan skin gleaming with water droplets, his smile bright. “If I’m lucky enough to win the heart of a man someday”—my smile wavers but my heartfelt words steady it—“then I hope he’ll be as kind as you.”
The swimmer ahead of me is still going strong. He pauses at the edge of the pool and holds up a hand, signaling he’s going to attempt another five laps. “No problem.”
Jack steps beside me and I’m embarrassed to confess my heart kicks up a notch. “Giving me a head start?”
“Of c
ourse. By the time I hit the water, you’ll be exhausted.” I smile. “And my chances increase.”
“Only if we swim one lap.”
“I’ll be lucky to do one.”
He puts an arm over my shoulder and I seek out Pam in the crowd. Do Jack’s actions upset her? She seems oblivious, talking to Gabe and Izzie. Maybe she’s not the jealous type. She’s a lot closer to the Proverbs 31 woman than I am.
“I’ve got my money on you.”
His statement stuns me. “You do?”
“Absolutely.” He steps away and onto the block. Before I can come up with a clever response, he makes a clean dive. Inwardly I groan imagining the belly flop I’ll do in a few minutes. But hopefully he’ll be too busy to notice.
Keeping my robe over my swimsuit, I watch Jack a few minutes as he overtakes the swimmer in my lane. Heat works its way up the back of my neck. It feels as if everyone is watching me watch Jack, so I wander off toward the bleachers in hopes of catching Marla. It’s not hard to spot her. She’s lurking around a corner, keeping to herself. She wears a scarf over her head and around her neck, resembling a burka.
“Marla!”
She hesitates, looks as if she might make a run for it but then stands still while I walk toward her.
“Thanks for coming today to support Izzie. I know she really appreciates that.”
“Sad thing about that little girl.” Her lips press together as she shakes her head. “Hard to understand something like that.”
Nodding, I thumb over my shoulder. “I saw Harry. He gave a very generous donation.”
“We went in together.”
She always wants the credit. But I suppose it doesn’t matter today. So I force a smile. “That’s very nice of both of you. Thank you. It’s for a good cause.”
“Isabel has her swim cap on. Is she still hiding her bald head?”
“Actually her hair is starting to grow. But it creates drag. For faster score times she keeps a cap on in the pool. It won’t be long before she’ll be sporting a short do.”
“Well, she’s young. It’ll grow.”
I manage not to roll my eyes the way Izzie would. There’s not much else to say. “What are you going to do about Harry?”
“Harry?” Marla waves a hand as if he’s an afterthought. “Oh, he is congenial.”
“You mean he does what you want?”
Her lips purse, and she gives me a hard glare. “I don’t appreciate that remark.”
“He really loves you.”
“I know.” Her voice is quiet, not triumphant the way I imagined.
“Do you love . . . care for him?”
“In a way. Not like Bradford. Not like Anderson. But now I’m beginning to see that was superficial. Fun and freeing, but shallow. Since my surgery . . . well, it’s over with Anderson. But Harry . . . is different. He sees me . . .”
“As you want to be?”
“In ways I never imagined. I don’t even think my husband did that. Bradford only saw what he wanted to see.”
My heart expands toward her. It’s the deepest nonconfrontational conversation we’ve ever had. “He loved you too, Marla.”
“For a long time after his death, I doubted that. But I suppose he loved me as much as he could love anyone.”
“Isn’t that all there is for any of us?” I look up in the stands and see Isabel sitting with friends. She learned the hard way that parents disappoint. As I did. “We’re all flawed. And we just do the best we can. We have to rely on God’s grace.”
Marla slants a gaze in my direction. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven Cliff?”
I take a slow breath and release it, surprised that I don’t feel that old tightness in my diaphragm. “I suppose I have. Honestly, I haven’t thought about him much. I’ve been too busy. And I’m not sure I felt like I needed to forgive him. He’s acted the way he usually does. I shouldn’t have expected more from him. Unrealistic expectations were my fault. So maybe I simply needed to forgive myself.”
The corners of her mouth remain tense. “For trying to change him?”
“For choosing him in the first place.”
Her eyes widen, one more than the other. But then she nods. “I chose poorly too. But there’s always a second chance.” Her gaze drifts toward Harry, who’s talking with a couple of swimmers. My gaze veers like the pull of a strong magnet toward Jack. His strokes are strong and smooth, sure and confident. It feels as if my blinders have been removed. A bit of an old hymn comes back to me, “I was blind but now I see.”
I do indeed, just as Dorian Gray finally saw the sin in his own life rather than projecting onto others. And amazingly, it’s okay. More than that . . .
It’s freeing.
It’s not much of a race when I make my pseudodive off the boards and into the cool water. Jack’s several laps ahead of me. I had a chance to appreciate his long, smooth strokes, his strong kick—good form. Not that I’m an expert, but I have watched my share of swim meets and practices. My form is lacking, casual at best, and I find myself angling to the left and end up bumping into the ropes. Jack pauses, treading water.
“Keep your eye on the wall.” His coaching style is natural. Then he kicks out and moves a few feet away. “Or were you trying to distract me?”
I splash water at him and try to kick off something . . . but there is nothing, and I go under the water and come up spluttering. Thankfully Jack is further down the lane and spares me any more embarrassment.
After I’ve managed another lap, Jack passes me, makes his flip at the wall, and gives me a thumbs-up.
Already I’m gasping for air but I push off the tiled wall and switch to a backstroke. This time I bounce from the right rope to the left and end up treading water for a minute in the middle of the pool. I switch to a lazy sidestroke and watch Jack move past me several times.
By the time I reach my goal, my legs wobble and my shoulders ache as I pull myself out of the pool. I swam more laps than ever before, probably in my whole life put together. Jack is still going strong, but I turn my lane over to the next swimmer, a younger, leaner candidate, who makes a splash as she hits the water.
Someone has moved my cover-up, so I wrap my towel around me, wishing it covered a bit more of me. I log my laps and contribution to Lily’s Cause. It’ll be up to me to contact all who sponsored me and collect their payments. Turning, I see Pam sitting on the front row of bleachers and talking to another mom, but her gaze follows Jack as he continues swimming. A tightness seizes my stomach. Her eyes shine, her smile full. It’s not a muscle cramp, but suddenly I can’t draw a deep breath. Raw, unfettered emotion bubbles to the surface. Feeling disjointed, like I’ve got a light case of the bends, I need some fresh air and a minute alone.
When I reach the warmth of the outdoors, I sit on the sidewalk, pull my knees to my chest and rest my cheek against my knee. Fall in Texas is full of extremes with temperatures ranging from low forties to the nineties, much like my emotions these days. But oak leaves have changed to yellows and browns and have begun fluttering to the ground.
Closing my eyes, I feel a slight breeze stir the hair at my nape as it begins to dry. And suddenly tears spring forth. I’m not sure where they are coming from or why they continue but they are from a deep place of loneliness. I feel as if all my dreams come pouring out. Some dreams, like Jack, I was never even aware of until recently. I let the disappointment and sorrow wash over me. I suppose it’s a day for tears.
I don’t understand. Why after all this time, after trying hard to make things work, am I left alone?
But you’re not.
The still, small voice is not so much in my head as in my heart.
In that moment I realize the truth: that’s been my fear all these years. But I’m not alone. I look up at the sun-bleached sky until the sun’s rays make my eyes burn and water even more. As I squeeze them closed, I feel a smile emerge and spread across my face. I’m not alone. I never have been. And I’m okay with that.
“I�
�m okay with that, God,” the words whisper out of me. “If it’s just You and me, God, from here on out, all right. I don’t need a man to make me feel complete. I can’t depend on Izzie to always be here with me. I don’t understand all that has happened, but You’ve changed me. I can’t see the road ahead, but I trust You. I trust You.”
I’m not sure how long I sit there before I sense I’m not alone anymore. A hand presses on my shoulder, and I open my eyes to Jack’s concerned face.
“You okay?”
I rub the corner of the towel over my face, and still my cheeks feel stretched in some goofy grin. “Exhausted, but . . . yeah, okay.”
The words are not fake as they might once have been, but authentic.
Jack sits down beside me, a towel draped over his shoulders. His skin is cool but dry. His hair sticks out in all directions. “You sure?”
“Never better, actually.” I stare out at the blue sky that seems endless and unfathomable. “How’d your swim go?”
“I exceeded expectations.”
I turn my smile on him.
His brow crinkles. “Okay, what’s up? You win the lottery?”
I laugh and shake my head, feel a water droplet roll down the side of my face. “I can’t really explain it. I just feel . . . good.”
He rubs his flat belly. “I’m starving.”
“You sound like Gabe.”
“Just a growing boy.”
“There’s pizza and sandwiches inside.”
He shakes his head. “After all this I need a real sit-down dinner.”
“Okay.”
“So you’ll join me, then?”
I glance back over my shoulder at the natatorium’s brick wall. “What about the swim-a-thon?”
“It’ll keep going until we get back.”
“Do you want to see if Gabe and Izzie want to go?”
His gaze electrifies me. “Not really.”
“What about Pam? I saw her . . . inside.”
He tucks his chin down and studies me beneath heavy lids. “Gabe’s mom? Why Pam?”
“I thought . . . well, it seemed to me . . .”
