A Love that Leads to Home

by Ronica Black

  The limo stopped and Cole opened the door, not realizing that Cliff was waiting to do it for them, none of them used to being waited on. They climbed out and gathered at the front entrance where the big doors were propped open. The gentle sound of gospel music enveloped them, along with the familiar smell of the church interior. Something Carla would recognize blindfolded. A few other family members joined them at the entrance, mostly her grandmother’s remaining siblings. When they walked inside, they went two by two, and Carla was overwhelmed at the mass of people in attendance. The church was packed full and they all stood for them as they entered, and Carla, who was so moved she teared up, questioned for the first time whether or not she’d be able to make it through the eulogy.

  She looked upward and said a silent prayer as they were led to the pews in the front. Her knees bounced as she sat waiting, only able to half listen to Preacher Douglas as he spoke. The eulogy she’d written was crinkled from being folded up in her pocket, and it shook in her hand. She closed her eyes, and suddenly, there was a hand squeezing her shoulder.

  She opened her eyes to find Cole looking at her.

  “It’s your turn,” he whispered.

  Preacher Douglas was looking at her too from his position next to the pulpit. She stood and walked up to the steps on numb-feeling legs. Her hands tingled as she placed the eulogy on the stand and glanced out at the crowd. Faces blurred and meshed into other faces. She knew nearly every one of these people, yet she couldn’t focus well enough to recognize anyone. She scanned the pews, looking, searching, needing to see a familiar face. Someone who would look back at her and nod, letting her know she could do this.

  She cleared her throat, hoping it wouldn’t seize up, and that’s when she saw someone. Right there in the second pew. Just behind Maurine.

  Janice.

  Janice Carpenter.

  A woman she’d known her entire life.

  A woman she had nothing but the utmost respect for.

  A woman who had always been there for her family.

  Now she was there once again. This time for her.

  She was staring directly at her, holding her gaze, and she looked so kind and understanding and empathetic, like she wanted to stand alongside her and hold her hand as a pillar of silent support.

  As if confirming that she was indeed willing to be that pillar, she gave Carla a single, encouraging nod.

  Thank you.

  Carla looked down at the crumpled paper and began to read. She spoke loud and clear, and her voice, which had thankfully recovered from the week before, seemed to carry very well. She was still a little shaky at times, and her voice wavered with emotion, but she carried on, sharing bits of her grandmother’s life and who she was as a person. She shared treasured memories and humorous moments that caused people to both wipe away tears and laugh heartily. And as she did this, she continued to glance up and lock eyes with Janice Carpenter. For she was her anchor and the only soul who was keeping her from being engulfed and tossed about by the stormy sea of grief and sadness that lingered close by.

  But as Carla came to the last sentence, the one she knew by heart, she had to pause. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Her throat was tightening, betraying her. Tears were mounting. She inhaled and her breath shook in her chest.

  She opened her eyes and focused on Janice who had her palms pressed together beneath her chin like she was in prayer. Maybe she was. Maybe she was praying for her.

  Carla could only hope that her prayer would be answered.

  She spoke, made it through two words, and her voice caved. Preacher Douglas came to her and placed his hand on the small of her back. He asked if she was okay.

  She continued, forcing the last line out and into the ears of all who loved her grandmother. It didn’t come out pretty and it wasn’t loud and clear. But she got it out.

  And then, as she finally tore her eyes from Janice and Preacher Douglas began to lead her away, she did what she’d been trying so hard not to.

  She broke down and cried, succumbing to that lingering sea of sadness.

  Chapter Five

  Janice nodded politely at Mrs. Jenkins, her former first grade teacher, as she carried on about her grandson and his prowess on the basketball court. According to her, he was so good he was Carolina bound, which was what she’d always hoped for seeing as how she was a former Tarheel herself. She seemed to think Janice should be just as proud of him judging by the way she was carrying on and looking hopefully at her.

  Janice feigned interest with raised eyebrows and nodded. She sipped her Sun Drop from a Styrofoam cup and tried to keep paying attention as they ate the buffet lunch the church had provided. Mrs. Jenkins was a wonderful woman and one of her favorite teachers. And considering how proud she was of Janice and her position as a professor of English literature, she felt she owed her that at least.

  She was having a great deal of difficulty though, her mind continuously straying to Carla, worried whether or not she was okay after her touching eulogy. She was as moved by her evident grief as she had been by her appearance when she’d first entered the church. Janice had audibly gasped at her androgynous new look. She’d cut her hair. Now wearing it very short in an edgy, stylish cut that accentuated the beautiful contours of her face and brought even more focus to her ever-alluring eyes. And she didn’t even want to start thinking about how gorgeous she looked in that black fitted suit. In fact, if she hadn’t seen the heartache on Carla’s face a split second after her initial arrival had floored her, Janice probably would’ve embarrassed herself by either passing out or making some sort of wanton noise of desire.

  But Carla’s sorrow had been more than obvious, and Janice had gone from wanting her to wanting to comfort her in an instant. When she’d stood to give her eulogy, Janice had stared directly into her, willing all the strength and fortitude she had to somehow reach Carla to help her get through a very difficult moment. It seemed to have worked, because Carla had seemed to sense her energy, having looked up and locked onto her gaze. She’d visibly steeled herself then, like Janice had pressed a supportive hand into the small of her back and whispered kind words of encouragement in her ear, thus enabling her to give the most beautiful eulogy Janice had ever heard.

  Their silent connection had been palpable, and though Carla had managed to finish her speech, she’d nearly collapsed in Preacher Douglas’s arms and Janice had stood, highly alarmed and intent on getting to her. But the boys beat her to it, hurrying to meet her at the steps, where Preacher Douglas handed her off to be escorted from the church.

  Janice had never seen Carla so distraught and she’d just wanted to get to her to do something, anything, to comfort her. That strong need had continued all through the graveside service. But even when Janice did get a chance to be with her one-on-one, she wasn’t sure what sort of comfort she could provide. She would, of course, hug her and offer her condolences, but other than that, what could she do? More importantly, what would Carla allow her to do? She was just as strong-willed and self-reliant as the rest of the Sims clan, and she might not want much in the way of help or comforting. Maurine hadn’t been very open to her affections since she’d arrived home from her conference. She just kept insisting she was fine when it was more than clear she was anything but. Carla could very well respond to her the same way, but Janice hadn’t seen her until she’d walked in the church an hour before. She’d been out running errands the two times Janice had stopped by, so she truly had no idea how she would react to any sort of offer of comfort.

  “But I guess those college scouts can’t talk to him until his junior year,” Mrs. Jenkins said, still talking about her grandson. She seemed to be clueless to Janice’s wandering mind.

  Janice blinked to refocus on her, intending to engage, wanting to engage with her. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t tie her thoughts down enough to discuss basketball. Everyone around them seemed to be able to properly converse, so she should be able to as well. What was her deal? Why was this so difficu
lt? Was it the venue? They were in the large activity room of the church’s second building, where the offices, daycare, and Sunday school classrooms were. The space was crowded, regardless of its size, with many people still waiting in line at the buffet. But large crowds and loud noise had never bothered her before.

  She refocused yet again and found Mrs. Jenkins looking at her with her wide eyes, probably waiting for her to respond to something she’d said.

  She scrambled for words, a bit panicked. “It all sounds so exciting. You’ll have to be sure and keep me updated.” She smiled, anxiously waiting to see if her hurried response had been sufficient.

  Mrs. Jenkins nodded and returned the smile. “Oh, yes, you bet I will.”

  She seemed pleased and took a bite of macaroni salad while Janice pushed at the unwanted deviled egg on her plate with her plastic fork. The potato salad was good and so were the baked beans, but she couldn’t finish them. Instead she sipped her Sun Drop and panned the room, still anxious to see Carla.

  She entered at that very moment, walking in from the adjoining kitchen as if she’d sensed Janice’s thoughts again. She carefully wiped her cheeks as if trying to make sure she looked presentable. She’d cried all through the graveside service. Janice had been behind her, but she could tell by the way her head was bowed and her shoulders shook. Cole had kept his arm around her, and he’d tried to soothe her by rubbing her back. It seemed to do little to console her, and when they’d walked back for the buffet, Carla had promptly disappeared, and Janice had assumed she’d wanted some privacy and a quiet place to gather herself.

  Janice watched her bypass the enormous spread of food, waving off Maurine who was holding up a paper plate and speaking to her, obviously trying to get her to eat. Instead, Carla crossed the room and sat with Ms. Starnes, who was alone at a nearby table. She had been one of Betty’s closest friends and Janice was surprised to see her. She’d last heard that she wasn’t faring too well with her health. But there she was, dressed in her best, gray hair set, and makeup on. Only…she was crying. Not in any real noticeable fashion. She just had tears glistening in her eyes. And Carla, despite her own pain and anguish, held her delicate face and gently smoothed those tears away for her as they fell. She then took her hands in hers, said something more, and stood to kiss her forehead. Ms. Starnes smiled warmly up at her, and Janice realized that witnessing their heartfelt interaction had left her breathless.

  She’d seen Carla do things like that countless times over the years, but there was something about that particular moment that struck her. It could’ve been the gentle way in which she’d held the older woman’s face. The soft, kind way she spoke to her. Or the deep affection Carla had shown for her with the kiss. But Janice suspected it was the selflessness that had gotten to her.

  Carla had taken the time to sit and comfort a sad, grieving soul when her own sadness and grief was so strong, it kept overwhelming her.

  In fact, she’d probably had to do her best to hold back even more tears as she’d comforted Ms. Starnes.

  The whole scenario moved Janice profoundly, and when Carla left Ms. Starnes and headed for the exit, Janice stood and collected her cup and plate.

  “Would you excuse me, please? I need to go catch Carla.”

  “Okay, sugar,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “You give that girl a big hug for me.”

  Janice assured her she would and then quickly threw away her trash and followed Carla out the door. But much to her dismay, Carla was nowhere to be seen. Janice shaded her brow, trying to locate her amongst the various people mulling about, talking and embracing.

  Where had she gone? Did she leave?

  Then Janice saw movement from behind a far tree and she homed in on the stark blond hair. She crossed the vast lawn and tried to come up with something to say. Nothing came by the time she rounded the tree and quietly approached her from behind.

  Carla was standing with her hands in her pockets, staring out across the church’s property to where the cemetery was near the edge of the woods. Janice followed her line of sight to the mound of red dirt that now topped Betty’s grave. Carla appeared to be taking that in and no doubt trying her damndest to accept what she was seeing.

  Janice came to a stand next to her and stared along with her, not wanting to disturb her but too concerned to leave her be. She could feel the heaviness of her sorrow and the intensity of her thoughts, like she was sensing and understanding Carla in a way others couldn’t see or comprehend.

  The silence between them stretched for a long moment before Carla spoke.

  “She would’ve hated all this,” she said, her eyes still trained ahead. “She loved everybody and would’ve been touched that so many people cared, but all this…attention, she wouldn’t have liked it. She was too humble and introverted for all this.”

  “She was, wasn’t she?”

  “I’m glad I put my foot down about having a public viewing. She would’ve haunted me for years had I allowed that.”

  Janice studied the side of her face and saw a hint of a smile at what she’d just said. It made Janice’s heart flutter.

  “Granted, she’ll probably still haunt me,” Carla continued. “Just for mere shits and giggles.”

  Janice laughed and Carla glanced over at her then. Her eyes looked like liquid gold, and Janice blushed at their intense searching of her. But in an instant, that powerful seeking stopped, leaving Janice confused and off balance, like the thick, tight chord that had been between them had snapped.

  Carla looked back toward the cemetery, apparently not nearly as affected at the loss of connection as she was. She wondered what those shimmering eyes had seen in her. If they’d found what they’d been searching for. Carla’s demeanor gave away nothing, however.

  “I’m not really sure how to do this,” she eventually said.

  “Do what?”

  “Grieve.”

  “I don’t think there is a knowing how when it comes to grieving. Everyone does so in their own way.”

  “You’ve always been so insightful,” she said. “It didn’t matter what the situation was, you always had the answer or knew what to say.”

  Janice had never known she’d felt that way. She was almost moved to tears to hear her say it.

  Carla looked at her again, her gaze full of emotion. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything you’ve ever done for my family. And for…what you did for me back there during the service. I don’t think I could’ve made it through without you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, Carla.”

  But everything you’re saying is making my heart sing.

  “Oh, but I do. I’m not exactly sure what it was that happened or exactly what it was that you did. All I know is that you helped me. You were there. You. Your face amongst dozens of others. Why did you stand out and others didn’t? I don’t know. Why did I look up at that very moment to find you? I don’t know. I just know it felt like—even though I knew it was you—it felt like you were different. Like I was seeing you for the very first time.” She rubbed her forehead. “I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Actually, it does,” Janice said.

  But she seemed too lost in her struggle to make sense of things to have really heard her.

  “I can’t help but wonder why,” she said.

  I think I know.

  “You’re still you, right?”

  Janice forced an odd sounding laugh. “I guess so.” She struggled to continue, completely unsure as to what to say, or what she even should say. “I mean, you know there are some things that have changed, but—”

  She watched as Carla winced while massaging the back of her neck.

  “Your neck bothering you?”

  “It’s that damn new couch of Maurine’s. It’s like sleeping on cement.”

  “You’re sleeping on the couch? Why?”

  “She’s got all that stuff in the spare bedroom.”

  “Oh, right.” The boy
s had moved a bunch of boxes and furniture out of Betty’s basement and into Maurine’s house because Maurine was insisting it be gone through before being given away.

  Janice hated the thought of Carla going without a bed, especially now when her grief and exhaustion were at their peak. She knew she hadn’t been eating much, Maurine had informed her, and she did look a little gaunt. But it was the way she was carrying herself that really bothered Janice. She seemed to be weighted down with circumstance and emotion, and her need to intervene and somehow take it all away overcame her.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay at my place,” Janice said.

  What am I doing? What in the world am I doing?

  She was risking everything, most notably exposure, by inviting Carla in. But she couldn’t help herself. Taking that risk, she had to admit, excited her a little, along with the realization that she’d get to spend a lot of time with Carla and have her all to herself.

  “Your place? Really?”

  “You’d have your own room.”

  “What about peace and quiet?”

  “There’s an abundance.”

  “There’s just been so many people and it’s been nonstop.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “But I don’t know. Maurine obviously wants me there and she needs me right now. I’d be hesitant to leave.”

  Her heart fell and she got upset at herself for getting so excited to begin with.

  “Well, the offer stands. You’re always welcome.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment, and Janice had the urge to reach out and touch her. Carla spoke, though, interrupting her intention.

  “Thank you.”

  Janice smiled. “Like I said, there’s no need to thank me.”

  “There is.” Carla stepped up and embraced her, and for the second time that day, Janice gasped. The warm, firm press of her body against hers took her breath away, as did the scent of her tantalizing cologne.

  “You okay?” Carla had pulled away, but seeing her face so close to hers made Janice’s head spin.

  “Mm. Why?”