Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2) (23 page)

“It seems nice here,” Jane lied.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap,” she replied. “This place is a warehouse for the dying. Every week one leaves feetfirst, and a new one takes their place. The hallways fill with the families. All a-chattering too. Oh dear, you should hear their lies. ‘You’ll love it here,’ they say. ‘It will be fun, Grandma.’ ‘We’ll visit all the
time, Granddaddy.’ Then they’re gone and the next time you see them, they’re back with the funeral van.”

“Doesn’t anyone visit you?” Jane asked.

“No one cares to come,” she said. “No one except my one greedy son who’s furious that I’m leaving my property to the state. They have instructions at the front not to let him in.” She lifted her head and swung her eyes toward the dresser. “But I’ve got Jim and Carl there to keep me company.”

“Jim and Carl?”

“My first and second husbands. I was widowed twice, you know. They’re both in the urn there, waiting on me to join them. But you didn’t come to talk about an old lady’s slow crawl toward the crematorium. I see our man has put that ring he worked so hard for on your hand.”

Jane looked down at the yellow diamond on her finger. Then she covered it with her other hand, because she worried that it might make Mrs. Hawthorne uncomfortable to see her wedding ring worn by someone else.

But Mrs. Hawthorne just smiled. “How is he?”

“Caleb’s doing fine. He’s in Los Angeles right now, playing his guitar and singing for a TV show. It’s a nice break for him. I didn’t know that I’d be coming today or I would have told him. I’m sure he would have asked me to say hello to you.”

“No sense troubling a young man about an old woman,” she said, passing her hand in front of her face as if to wave the idea away. Then she focused on Jane. “Tell me, my dear, how are you? I’ve seen happier faces in here on hospice nurses.”

Jane sighed. She hadn’t meant to; it just came out. She looked past Mrs. Hawthorne to the yellow lace curtains, and she tried to keep the tears from coming into her eyes.

“I’m just having a tough time, I guess.”

When Jane let her eyes find Mrs. Hawthorne again, she saw
that the old lady was looking at her with her hands folded on her lap, as if waiting for more but in no way wanting to force it from her. There was a clear patience in her gaze, a sharpness of mind dulled only by a motherly compassion. It was something Jane had not seen in a long time, and it was comforting. She let down her guard and just spoke the truth.

“My mother had a stroke, so I left my job and flew home. But she doesn’t want me here. And I guess I don’t want to be here either. Caleb’s busy filming his show. And I want him to be there. I do. It was even my idea. But I just feel cut off from everyone. I don’t know if I should fly there or just fly home and deal with this alone. You see, I don’t know if I can go through with this. Not again. I don’t know if I’d survive. And if I tell him, I know I’ll have no choice. I know how he feels. Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I’m sure this makes no sense at all. Please, never mind my rambling.”

When she finished, Mrs. Hawthorne lifted her clasped hands from her lap and leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on them as she looked directly into Jane’s eyes. “How long have you been pregnant, dear?”

The room blurred into a smear of yellow light, and Jane felt the tears slide down her cheeks. She opened her purse and fished out a tissue, dabbing the tears away as she spoke.

“I found out the other day. And I’m scared to death about it. I think that’s why I came out here. To see Melody at the cemetery. To ask her if it was me. If it was my fault. The sickness, I mean. Alcoholism. Addiction. The disease. You see, I couldn’t live through that again. I just couldn’t.”

“Melody is your daughter who passed away?”

Jane nodded. “Caleb told you?”

“Yes. We talked a great deal while he was working for me. Mostly he talked about you and how much he loved you.”

Jane felt herself smile despite the tears. “Really? Did he say why?”

“He gave lots of reasons, I’m sure, but I was probably too busy watching his ass working in those jeans to even listen.”

Jane couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey now, I might be old as dirt and damn near dead, but I’m not buried yet,” the old lady said. Then she leaned forward and touched Jane’s knee. “You’ll be all right, dear. You will.” Then she rose from the wheelchair.

There was a moment when she looked to be stuck, half in and half out, but Jane didn’t want to insult her by helping so she waited and watched. She finally stood and reached for her cane. Then she shuffled over to the dresser and laid her hand on the brass urn. When she spoke again it was to Jane, even though her eyes remained on the urn.

“I was lucky to have had two men to love in my life. But two more different men there never were before and never will be again. If I tipped their ashes out, I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if they poured into two separate piles on the floor.”

She half turned, lowered herself onto the edge of her bed, and sat staring at the carved handle of her cane.

“Jimmy was my first and my one true love. But he was a wild man with a wild spirit. Never fall in love with a sailor, dear. Their hearts are quick to love, but there’s nothing that holds them like the sea. And the only way they seem to be able to stand land is when they’re drunk. He came home from the navy and surprised me with that ring you’re wearing. Spent his entire inheritance on it. We had our wedding in a friend’s backyard. Small but perfect. We rented a little apartment in San Francisco, and we made love day and night for nearly a year. Oh, did we make love. But it wasn’t long before he was back out to sea. This time on a commercial ship. That’s when I found out. I was alone
and I was terrified too. I sent a telegram to their port to let him know. But I never heard back and I thought he hadn’t received it. But he had. Oh Lord, I’ll never forget that look on his face when he stepped off that ship and saw me.”

She paused and looked down at the floor, and Jane saw her shudder beneath her shawl.

“He didn’t say a word and neither did I,” she continued. “He thought I’d lost the baby, and I guess I had. Three nights later, he was out drinking to ease the grief when he tried to break up a fight and took some bastard’s knife in the gut. And just like that, I lost him too.”

She brought her hand slowly to her chest, as if to comfort her own broken heart.

“It took ten years for me to see Carl for who he was. We had known him through friends. Not close, but from a distance. He said he had always loved me. And I grew to love him too. He was a good man. A quiet man. A loyal man. He had been widowed too and he had three daughters, then I gave him a son. I don’t hear from the girls now that he’s passed. But I wouldn’t change a day of it.”

There was a long pause while she stared up at the urn on the dresser.

“I’m not telling you all of this just to reminisce. I’m telling you because I was fortunate enough to have found what I needed in my life in two men. You’re one of the even luckier ones who have managed to find everything in just one. That Caleb’s a keeper, and I’d hate to see you break his heart like I did my Jimmy. He thought it was a miscarriage and I didn’t tell him any different. But I always wonder what might have been.”

Jane watched her, sitting there on the bed with the brass urn visible just above her shoulder. Everyone has their secret regrets,
she thought, and maybe none of us will truly reconcile them until we’re finally dead.

Mrs. Hawthorne rose on her cane. “There’s something you should have to go along with that ring, but you’ll have to drive me to my old house to get it. Do you have time?”

“Of course,” Jane said. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

Jane was pushing her wheelchair down the hall when a nurse stopped to ask them where they were off to.

“Just out for a little fresh air,” Mrs. Hawthorne said.

They wheeled past the front desk and out beneath the portico. Jane helped Mrs. Hawthorne from the wheelchair and into the car’s seat. She was light and frail, and her nails dug into Jane’s arm as she held her for support. Jane was wondering what to do with the wheelchair when Mrs. Hawthorne told her she didn’t need it and to just leave it there.

“They come out to collect them like shopping carts,” she said. “We should hurry and go, though.”

As Jane drove away, she looked in her rearview mirror and saw the wheelchair rolling down the sloped parking lot, with the man from the reception desk chasing after it.

“You weren’t supposed to leave, were you?” Jane asked.

The old lady looked back and chuckled. “I’m not sure, but I’ll be damned if I’ll ask permission like some prisoner.”

When they arrived at her old driveway, the first thing Jane noticed was that the mailbox that had read
H
AWTHORNE
was gone. In its place was a
PROPOSED LAND USE
sign. Mrs. Hawthorne seemed to either not notice or not care as Jane passed it by and idled up the gravel drive toward the old yellow house.

There was a utility van in front of the house, and Jane parked next to it, got out, and went around and helped Mrs. Hawthorne from the car. The old lady leaned on her cane and looked up at the house, and they were each tilting so far left,
woman and house, that Jane would not have been surprised if they had fallen over simultaneously. She held Jane’s arm for support, and together they walked toward the porch and slowly climbed the steps. They stopped in front of the door and Mrs. Hawthorne leaned in to Jane, then lifted her cane up to touch a rusty horseshoe hanging above the doorframe.

“This horseshoe brought us over fifty years of good luck in this old house. Carl and I found it on our honeymoon and hung it up when we moved in. I want you to have it, dear.”

“Are you sure?” Jane asked. “Don’t you want to keep it?”

“And hang it at that geriatric hoosegow they’ve got me tucked away in? I don’t think so. Besides, dear, it will bring me comfort knowing that it’s hanging above another door where love lives. I’d like to believe some things just keep going on.”

Jane looked up at the horseshoe. It was sad to think of this place being torn down. She remembered the first time she had come out here to try to sell Mrs. Hawthorne long-term care insurance. She remembered coming again with Caleb to pay for the goat.

She stretched up onto her tiptoes to pry the horseshoe free and was struggling with a stubborn nail when the door opened and a man ran into her and screamed. He jumped back into the house and fell flat on his behind. He sat there looking up at them and removed his headphones.

“You ladies scared the bejesus out of me,” he said. “All the guys at the shop keep telling me this place is haunted.”

“You had better hurry and tear it down,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, “because if I die before you do, I might just come back and haunt it for real.”

The man stood up and dusted himself off. “I’m just here pulling wire and fuses. Getting things ready for the wrecking ball. I take it this was your house, ma’am.”

“Yes, it was. I came back because I forgot something.”

He looked over his shoulder into the empty house. “There’s not much here, ma’am.”

“It’s this horseshoe above the door, young man. Would you mind prying it free for us?”

He removed the horseshoe and gave it to Mrs. Hawthorne. Mrs. Hawthorne presented it to Jane. Then they thanked the worker and returned to the car.

Jane was helping Mrs. Hawthorne into the car when the old lady rested her hand on the open door for support and turned to look back at her house one last time. She seemed to be seeing the years unfold in reverse there on that old weathered porch, and Jane could have sworn that for a moment Mrs. Hawthorne looked young again. She closed her eyes and smiled. Then she lowered herself into the seat and didn’t look again.

Back at the assisted living center, Mrs. Hawthorne refused to let Jane see her in. She said there was no point in both of them getting into trouble. “And besides,” she added, “where I’m going, I had better get used to going alone.”

So Jane pulled up to the edge of the portico and tried her best not to cry as they said their good-byes. “You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?” she asked.

Mrs. Hawthorne’s face crinkled into one big smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, dear. Here. Take this and write me down your address.”

Jane took the small, worn address book and pen that Mrs. Hawthorne produced from a pocket beneath her shawl and wrote her address and telephone number inside. After she had handed it back, there was a moment when Jane thought they might embrace in the car, but Mrs. Hawthorne reached for the handle and opened the door. Jane got out and crossed around to help her, but she was already out and leaning on her cane.

Oh, the hell with it, Jane thought.

Then she wrapped Mrs. Hawthorne up in her arms and hugged her. She let her head rest gently on the old woman’s shoulder and she was hugging not only her, but also her own mother, and Grace, and Melody. When she pulled away she had tears in her eyes. So did Mrs. Hawthorne. Jane wasn’t sure why or where she got the courage, but she leaned in and kissed the old woman’s cheek. Then she turned and crossed back to her open car door.

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, wiping away a tear. Then she smiled and added, “And you tell that Caleb of yours where to find me if things don’t work out with you two.”

Jane laughed and got in the car.

As she pulled away, she saw in her mirror Mrs. Hawthorne standing at the edge of the portico, watching her go. She saw the attendant come out with a wheelchair, and she saw the old lady wave him away with her cane.

Then Jane looked ahead and saw her no more.