Because I did my colleagues a favor by covering again for Heather, they allowed me to give my report first and leave. I was in bed by eight and up again after four and a half hours. A little groggy at first, a shower and hair wash revived me. I sipped some juice while dressing and stopped for a coffee before pulling out onto the highway. A meal could wait until after my meeting.
Out on the road before the schools were dismissed, I easily made Springfield in an hour. Ten minutes spent finding the law offices and a parking place, and I was standing in front of the receptionist’s desk five minutes prior to my appointment.
I was wearing a long dark brown skirt and a baggy sweater in fall tones of rust and yellow. My attire seemed to give the lady behind the desk a favorable impression. She was a picture of professional neatness in a navy blue suit accented with white gold jewelry. She complimented my sweater and pleasantly asked me to take a seat. Mr. Harmon would be with me momentarily.
Both the reception area and Mr. Harmon’s office were what I would have expected to see, tasteful and expensive but not ostentatious. Mr. Harmon’s suit was a light brown this time, but still too big for him. It was tempting to ask him if he had recently lost a lot of weight but the question seemed too personal on our short acquaintance and I refrained. He offered me something to drink and I accepted a glass of water.
Our interview was over in fifteen minutes, and to my amazement he refused to charge me for the consultation. He listened intently when I explained why I wanted to deliver Elaine Barclay’s inheritance from Amelia Marsh. I offered references as to reliability and trustworthiness, and assured him I knew this request was probably unusual and I would certainly understand if his firm had to decline my offer.
He in turn agreed it was an unusual situation overall. He had been apprised of the nature of my visit and had already spoken with Mr. Bedeman. They decided to allow me to deliver the jewelry. It was insured and would be in a sealed container I was to hand over to Mrs. Barclay intact. She would be contacted by telephone as to when to expect me, and asked to get in touch with the law office as soon as possible after I made the delivery. When did I expect to make the trip?
I told him. We agreed we would be in touch early the following week to finalize arrangements for me to pick up the package. I accepted his card, we shook hands, and I almost left without asking my questions. There was no problem there, either. Mrs. Marsh’s file was lying open on his desk. The information I asked for was in no way confidential.
It was all so pat I sat in my car after the meeting in a daze. Who would have thought it would go so smoothly? I had expected some questions, skepticism, something! My growling stomach brought me to reality. I found a waffle house and ate a leisurely meal before starting home.
Judy and I were both giggling like fools. Either we were in a giddy mood or Joel’s behavior was funny, probably a combination of both. There were a dozen children in the petting zone, two to eight year olds browsing among the fawns, goats, piglets, sheep, and a large basket of plump puppies. The puppies were dachshunds, I thought, old enough to be away from their mother but still very appealing. There were five of them, an assortment of browns and black in color, boisterously cuffing and nipping at each other, spilling out of the basket, then climbing back in to get back into the fray. Many of the children and the adult onlookers loved watching the puppies, and one aggressive little boy was on his knees, desperately trying to keep a black male in his arms. So far he was unsuccessful because the little canine would vigorously lick his face for a few seconds, then wriggle away to rejoin his siblings. Two attendants in coveralls kept the floor clean and the clean sawdust coming. They also kept an eye on overeager baby animals and little humans.
Joel was the cause of our mirth, as I have said, although there was plenty of entertainment all around. He had scrutinized all of the specimens in turn, with his thoughtful little face changing expressions as he cruised the large interior of the pen. He had seen plenty of puppies before, which was probably why he did not give them more than a moment of his attention. From outside of the enclosure his mother and I would pace the large circle to keep our eyes on what he was doing. He was very interested in a little girl feeding a kid from a baby bottle, assisted by a third attendant, but declined the honor himself when offered. He knelt down next to another little girl, about four, and with her discussed the curly tails and the squeals of the baby pigs in front of them. When that paled he moved on, grinning at us as we called to him but showing no inclination to join us as yet. He held out a hand and patted the head of an eager fawn, and laughed when the fawn nuzzled his hand looking for food. The food had already gone to the goat and the fawn moved on. My attention was drawn away for a second by the cries of a toddler tripping over one of the sheep. He was quickly rescued and handed to his mother’s arms. But next to me Judy’s gasp brought my attention back to my own little man. His large blue eyes were round with amazement, his whole body brought to a screeching halt—no small feat in a three-year-old. Just in front of him stood the fat mama pig in process of nature’s catharsis, her excrement departing her body from under one of those fascinating pink curly tails. The look of total amazement on Joel’s face, followed after about six seconds by uncontrollable giggles, just about laid the two of us out. We were still wiping out eyes when he departed the pen at last.
“Did you see that pig go potty?” he asked us in a loud whisper. Apparently bathroom duty even for pigs is supposed to be discreet. I scooped him up and as we walked away began to explain that every living thing has to go potty, which presently reminded him he had to go, too.
Before leaving home I made a reservation for the four of us at a nice hotel in Terra Haute. Everett would meet us there at about five o’clock, which meant we still had an hour and a half. It would be at least another hour before going to supper, so we followed up Joel’s bathroom break with a trip to the food court. Judy was balancing her four packages and I happily managed my grandson. It was a busy Saturday afternoon but we found an empty table. There was no way we could walk around with our purchases, drinks, pretzels, an ice cream, and a small boy. The little guy was good. He sat quietly eating his scoop of orange cream sickle. He preferred a cup and a spoon to a cone, and dipped small scoops into his mouth as he watched all the action around him. Her green eyes shining in pleasure, Judy reopened one of bags and pulled out a lime green nightgown, floor length with spaghetti straps.
“I wouldn’t have dared spend the money on this,” she gushed. “Thank you again, Sally.”
“My pleasure,” I replied sincerely, smiling back at her. “Sorry you won’t get to try it out tonight. I reserved just one room for the four of us.”
Amazing, I thought, young girls today still blush. Judy was red to the roots of her auburn hair. She lowered her head and smothered another smile. Her embarrassment may have been because of the comment coming from her mother-in-law, but I was happy to know the romance was alive in my son’s marriage.
“Do you think we might possibly get Ev into a decent shirt tonight?” I tactfully changed the subject. “I would really like to take you out to eat somewhere a cut above Burger King.”
“He packed his own overnight bag so there’s no guarantee he has anything in it without holes,” she answered with a sigh, “clean yes, decent, who knows.”
Everett was finishing a patio he had been contracted to build in an upscale neighborhood on the outskirts of Terra Haute. He had been away from home all week, working twelve-hour days and sleeping at the home of an obliging cousin. He called home to his wife Thursday night to tell her he wouldn’t be finished until Saturday, so between us we arranged this rendezvous, a nice weekend getaway, compliments of yours truly. My son protested a little at first, but I persuaded him it would give me great pleasure to do this, which was entirely true. Privately I thought Judy could use the change of pace. Everett was often so happy in his little rut he forgot not everyone else was the same way.
“When we finish our snacks,” I told Judy now, “we’re going to buy Ev a new shirt, just in case. We’ll take our chances on the jeans.”
“And you are supposed to buy me a batman shirt, Gram’ma, remember?” a little voice underneath an orange mustache reminded me.
Twenty-four hours later I was on my way home, my little car cruising nicely down the interstate. I was not thinking about the upcoming trip to Athens, Texas. I was still in a family frame of mind. Joel had put his arms around me just two hours earlier and said in parting, “I really wish you could stay with me, Gram’ma,” his large eyes solemn, his lips quivering. It was a scene to melt the hardest heart. Everett had looked on, his arm around Judy’s waist, both of them quietly allowing us our goodbyes.
I kissed his sweet little face again and assured him it wouldn’t be too long before our next visit together. “Gram’ma has to go home to work,” I explained, a lame excuse to a little person.
“I’ll bring you and your mom to visit Gram’ma real soon, Bud,” Everett added helpfully.
His voice was cheerful, but when I looked up from my kneeling position at Joel’s eye level I saw the sadness in his eyes. We made eye contact for a few brief seconds, but we each knew what the other was thinking. It was at times like these we both ached for Everett’s dad to be around so he could share in these special moments. For the nineteen months he had been one, Michael loved being a grandpa. It was hard accepting the fact Joel would never remember his paternal grandfather. He would have to learn about him second hand.
With a firm hold on the steering wheel I replayed our family get together through my mind once more. After checking into our lodging, I had taken my grandson for an hour swim in the pool while Ev had showered and changed, leaving Judy behind with him. They did not divulge exactly how they had spent that hour, as I happen to know a shower only takes Ev fifteen minutes tops. When we got back Judy was brushing her mane of beautiful hair and her spouse was good-naturedly tucking the new shirt into his fairly decent jeans. Very discreetly I did not look to see if the negligee was still tucked in the shopping bag. The exuberant little guy was dried and dressed while I did a quick shower and change of my own. The steak house recommended by the front desk was a good choice. Still hyped from all the excitement Joel kept me busy drawing trucks and tractors on whatever paper I could find in my handbag, but midway through the main course his active day and no nap caught up with him. He slept with his head on my lap while I ate my meal, careful not to spill any food or liquid on his cherubic little face.
It is rare that any event goes as well as one hopes it does, but this little family rendezvous had been almost perfect, a good memory to tuck away. Time would pass by soon enough, Joel would grow up, and who knew how long the attachment between us would last? I intended to savor every minute of it.
After our dinner I babysat. Everett needed only a little encouragement to take his wife to a late movie while I gently tucked Joel into one side of the queen size bed he would share with me that night. In the transfer from the steak house to the vehicle to the bed he never stirred. What a treat! The movie channel had The African Queen! I hadn’t seen it in years. I climbed in next to my grandson to watch it.
The next morning we all watched Looney Tunes and took our sweet time getting dressed. We just made the hotel breakfast buffet at 10:30.
I ignored a teenager in a pickup who was trying to force me into the right lane.
“I’m going eight miles over the speed limit, fella,” I muttered, holding my spot. He would have to wait until I cleared all the slower traffic on the right myself. Eventually that happened, I moved over, and he roared past. At least he hadn’t given me an obscene gesture.
Over breakfast I told Judy and Everett about my trip to Texas on the following weekend. They thought it was very interesting and made me promise to report back to them when I got home. They laughed when I remarked their lives must be pretty boring for them to be so interested in my little caper.
“It’s the way you tell it, Mom,” Everett commented generously. “You ought to write a book.”
“Maybe when and if there is any satisfactory ending to this puzzle,” I had replied.
This time the message on my answering machine was from my daughter. Surprise, she was in Chicago, just wanted to let me know, and say hi. She gave me a phone number where she could be reached for the evening, and after unpacking the car I called it. No answer. It was a room at a swank hotel. I would try again later. Perhaps she was out to dinner. I could only hope she was staying in that room without Robert.
She was staying by herself. We connected about eight. I was finishing my low impact aerobics so I was able to answer the phone without being short of breath when she called again. Of course I asked her what she was doing in Chicago.
“Well as a matter of fact you might be interested in that,” she answered vaguely.
“Of course I am. Any respectable mother is interested in why her daughter jaunts half way across the country, unless she’s a flight attendant.”
“Ha, ha, can you imagine me as a flight attendant?” Janelle chuckled. Would I have to drag information out of her? No, she started to open up.
“You remember when we talked the last time, and you recommended Robert and I take it easy in our relationship?”
I acknowledged that I did remember that.
“After you hung up I told him what you said. Well, he agreed with you.”
“He did?” I was suspicious, but tried not to let it show.
“Yes. I can see the logic in it too, but I miss him.”
“Are you telling me the reason you’re in Chicago is because of our last phone conversation?” This was unbelievable. Who ever heard of a daughter’s boyfriend taking the advice of a potential mother-in-law?
Janelle went on, warming up to her topic. “He said he could really see what you meant; he should have considered it himself. He doesn’t want to rush into anything too soon again either, you know. But it wasn’t easy. Then one of our software reps got sick and they desperately needed someone to take his place out here. A huge furniture company is implementing our accounting programs, and it will take about six weeks to get them trained.” She paused.
“So you’re in Chicago for six weeks?” I said helpfully.
“For five more. I’ve been here a week already. I meant to call sooner, but it’s been crazy.”
“Well, being so busy doesn’t give you much time to be lonely,” I offered, still full of good comments.
My daughter doesn’t always appreciate it when I’m so agreeable, but maybe she was too tired to care, even if this was a Sunday. I asked her if she had worked all weekend, and in fact she had worked all day Saturday. On this day an executive of the company and his wife took her out for a late lunch. Afterward she went to a museum, and was taking a soak in the bathtub when I returned her call. A chef salad and a little television were her plans for the rest of the evening, she said, then on to bed.
“And,” here I was treading carefully, “have you and Robert talked since you left for Chicago?”
“Just once,” her tone was a teensy bit defensive. “We agreed, only one phone call a week. This is supposed to be a separation period.”
“What do you think comes next?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I can’t say I’m ready for a permanent commitment, Mom. But I can honestly tell you I am not into the living together thing, so you can put your mind at rest about that. Let’s just wait and see how things stand in five more weeks.” She paused, “Mom?”
“I’m here.”
“This sounds so juvenile, but I don’t know any other way to put this.” Another pause. “Will I really know if I’m in love? Will I be sure?”
“You had better be. Don’t do anything drastic until you know.”
She sighed deeply. “We’ve never talked a lot, have we?”
“No. But we’ve never fought a lot either. We’ve certainly had our problems, but I always thought there was an underlying understanding between us, and certainly deep affection, not only on my part but on yours. I guess I just assumed we understand each other. Janelle? Is that true?”
“Yes, mom.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I always talked more to Dad, but you do know what I mean. I would ask him now if I could, how he knew you were the one for him. He’s gone, so I’m asking you.”
She waited while I groped for wisdom. It had always been as she had stated. She communicated better with Michael while growing up. He was also the only one she was openly affectionate with. There had been moments when I envied him the hugs and kisses, but I had Everett. He was my cuddle bun. But my son never asked for my in-put when he fell for Judy.
“Your friendship will turn,” I offered slowly. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it will. There must be passion, of course, but that isn’t enough. Passion can die and it never burns constantly. The friendship will become a deep bonding so suddenly everything he does seems like just the right thing. And more than that, no one can tell you, it’s too personal. It isn’t an obsession, which is all consuming, but won’t make you happy. Love makes you elated. You will know.”
How inadequate it seemed, trying to tell someone else, my own daughter no less, what real lasting love is, even if I had been one of those blessed individuals who had known it personally. Could it be the same for everyone? But Janelle deserved my best shot at it.
“Honey,” I spoke into the silence that followed my words. It was a comfortable silence. “your Dad and I prayed for you, and I still do. You have always been so independent and we had to let you go pretty early. We had to count on divine intervention to keep you straight.”
After a moment she said, “Do you still miss him a lot, Mom?”
”Yes, sometimes. Not as much as the first months, thankfully. No one can keep on hurting that much all the time. And you?”
“I was so angry when he died. It seemed so unfair. Then I was angry at you because you seemed to handle it so well, so I thought I should, too.”
“You did handle it well,” I replied, “so well it scared me. But everyone told me you would grieve in your own good time. Did you?”
“I think I’m still working it out. Robert has been so great to talk to, but I don’t want to be leaning on him because I don’t have Dad.”
I found that very perceptive of her and told her so. Our conversation went on for another half an hour, the most in depth talking we had done since I could remember. It frightened me a little. I didn’t want to let her down. My little girl was showing me how vulnerable she could still be. It seemed like a sacred trust.
Later when I laid my head on the pillow I allowed myself to remember it all. From the officials at the door in the pouring rain, to the funeral four days later, and all of the heart wrenching, grim details between. Everett had wept openly more than once. Janelle had stayed with us a week, her face pale and expressionless. She had not cried at all, at least not in front of anyone. She stood between her paternal grandparents at the gravesite, allowing them both to lean on her young strength. Funny how other people say a time of devastation in their lives becomes a blur. For me all of the faces of the family members and friends who clustered to give each other comfort, and all the events, were etched in my memory like permanent ink. It had been a long time since opening the pages of this book, but this night I did. It was not so bad.