On the Divinity of Second Chances (34 page)

“Welcome, dear! My goodness! How long has it been?” Beatrice greets Jade.

“Gosh, I don’t even know!” Jade stops to think, but just shakes her head. “You haven’t changed a bit, though! Beatrice, Olive, this is my love, Josh.”

“Welcome! Welcome! Have a sweet roll, Josh!”

He accepts. “Thank you,” he says. “Delicious!”

“Olive!” Jade’s face breaks into a huge smile as she walks over to Olive, rests a hand on her shoulder, and kisses her on the top of the head.

“Want to see your new nephew?” Olive asks, then pulls the receiving blanket to the side so Jade can see his face.

Jade’s eyes well up. “Good job, sis.”

“Beautiful,” adds Josh, with a self-conscious smile.

An ambulance screams by and most of us peek around the corner to see which neighbor is experiencing misfortune. It turns up the old Peterson place. “Maybe Dean finally got his,” Beatrice says. “That would make Pearl happy.” As we turn to return to our seats, Beatrice trips over a basket of magazines she had set out for Olive. For a second, she is completely airborne. In a split second, Josh darts toward her projected landing spot and catches her. First, her orange juice hits him, and then her full weight. He doesn’t flinch. For a second, we all simply stare, amazed.

Phil breaks the silence. “Great catch!”

“She is a great catch, isn’t she?” Josh jokes.

“Thank you,” Beatrice says, blushing. “Oh, look what I did to you,” she fusses as she assesses the quantity of orange juice all over his pants. “I can put those in the wash for you.”

“Thanks, but the airline lost my luggage. I have nothing else to wear right now.”

“Then you must wear my overalls. I’ll feel horrible if I have to look at an orange juice stain on you all day.”

He looks at Jade as if asking her for help, but she just shrugs and smiles. “Oh, Josh, I think you’ll look very nice in Beatrice’s overalls.”

“Mom, would you like to hold Kelly for a while?” Olive asks me. Would I like to? It’s been all I could do not to snatch that baby from her! He is a little on the small side, but, at six pounds two ounces, is all right. Even though he was a month early, if he was just one more week along, he would have been considered term.

“Oh, precious, there, there you go,” I say as we awkwardly exchange him. “Are you feeling okay?” I ask Olive.

“Oh, yes,” she answers. “Just a little tired. I might rest my eyes—only for a minute, though. I don’t want to miss anything,” she explains, and then shuts her eyes. This makes me smile; I remember those days.

Josh steps out of the bathroom wearing Beatrice’s overalls over his crisp, white shirt. The overalls are significantly too short—almost up to his knees. His black socks and shiny loafers stand out. He looks at Jade for encouragement.

“Sexy,” she says, completely entertained.

Beatrice stands, looking out the window and across the field. “Oh, no. Dean’s cows have come through the fence again!”

“Beatrice, I’ll get them out. I’ve got just the thing,” Phil offers. He stands up, walks out the door to our car, takes his bagpipes out of the trunk, and begins to march out into the field.

“Come on,” Jade says to Josh. “Let’s go help.”

The three of them march out, Phil in front in his khaki slacks and plaid cotton shirt. He refrains from playing the pipes until he gets close to the cows and away from Olive. Josh slips here and there in his loafers. Jade’s dress swishes with her sassy walk, and I’m sure her tall moccasins are warding off the cheatgrass better than Josh’s socks are. They are a funny picture, all of them. They continue to walk until they are specks. I rock Kelly in my arms by the window and follow Phil with my eyes. My heart is full.

The phone rings, and Beatrice jumps up to get it. “Oh, my God . . . oh, my God . . . okay, thank you.” She is pale and shaken. She says to me, “Your mother had a tractor accident. Dean found her. She’s been taken to the hospital. Her arm’s broken, and she has a little concussion. Do you want to go to the hospital with me?”

“Is she okay?”

“Sounds like it, but I want to get over there right away,” Beatrice says.

“I think I better wait until Phil gets back. I’ll be right behind you, though.”

“Okay, I’m so sorry to leave you all fending for yourselves.” She shuffles off to Pearl’s room to pack a bag. “She’ll need fresh clothes to come home in.” I don’t know if she’s talking to me or to herself. “Okay, I’m off.” She flies out the front door as fast as her legs will take her.

“Tell Mom I’ll be right there,” I call behind her. Beatrice peels out in her old Ford LTD.

I decide I better go out and find Phil and the others so we can get going to the hospital. I walk out the door and in the direction where I last saw them, holding Kelly in my arms. I notice the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen. I’m immediately drawn to its simplicity. I hesitate to go closer, knowing I should really find the others, but I feel a pull from it, as though it’s gently beckoning me. “We’ll just be a minute,” I whisper to Kelly as I carry him over to the house. When I’m at the threshold, it hits me—this is Olive’s house; this is what she came here to create—and my heart fills. I feel overwhelmed, so many emotions coursing through me. Regret. Sadness. Joy. Hope. And love. I hug Kelly close to my body and whisper in his ear, “You’re lucky, little one. You picked a good mother.” And as I pull myself away from this house I don’t want to leave, I share one last secret with Kelly: “And not a bad choice in picking those two crazy ladies you’ll be living next to. Not bad, Kelly . . . you’re going to be just fine. . . .”

Realizing it could take me too long to catch up with Phil and the others, and that Olive will worry if she wakes with no one there, I return to the house, where she continues to “rest her eyes.” I hear bagpipes in the distance playing “Amazing Grace” over the sound of bleating cattle. I notice the sound of bagpipes getting closer and can see specks where Phil, Jade, and Josh had disappeared. Good, they’re on their way back.

Phil on Being Young
(October 24)

After we return from the hospital, Anna and I sneak off to the old swing, holding hands. We almost trot down the dirt road that runs along the fence bordering the field. Near the end, I pull one strand of barbed wire up and step on the next strand to hold it down so Anna can crawl through. “Here you go, Grandma,” I say.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” she says and returns the favor.

From there, we almost skip as we cross the neighbor’s field to the old tree.

Yes, the swing is in disrepair, but I’ve come prepared with new materials. I dismantle the old swing; I’m beginning to understand that sometimes things have to come to a complete end before they can see a new beginning. At the same time, it just doesn’t make much sense to throw it all away. I pick up the old wooden seat and smile. “It’s still good.”

Anna smiles, too. “I didn’t think there would be anything salvageable,” she says.

I go right to work throwing new ropes over the old branch and threading the old seat onto the new ropes.

“I loved this swing,” Anna sighs.

I hold it for her to test out.

Instead of sitting in it, she says, “You know, there’s something I always wanted to do. . . .”

“Yeah?”

“You sit first.”

I sit on the rebuilt swing. “Are you going to push me?”

Instead of answering, Anna kicks off her shoes, pulls up her skirt, sits on my lap, and wraps her legs around me. My jaw drops, but I recover, kick off the best I can, and, as an entwined pair, we slowly swing.

“Are you sure this seat isn’t going to break?” Anna asks. “I mean, it must be pretty weathered by now.”

“It might break, but if it does, we’ll just fix that, too.”

I know time can never go back. The past can never be revisited. At best, I can take elements I enjoyed in the past and re-create them in the present. I am no longer in a state of retirement; I am in a state of reinvention.

Anna takes one hand off my neck, places it on my cheek, and kisses me.

The Moon on the Divinity of Second Chances
(October 25)

The moon above sees it all. It sees Pearl in her La-Z-Boy recliner, holding Kelly in her good arm, while Beatrice sits on the arm of the chair, filling in for Pearl’s weakness. Across the coffee table from them, Olive sleeps soundly on the couch. Beatrice rests one arm behind Pearl’s neck, as she quietly whispers in her ear, “We came into each other’s lives too late to have a family together. I’ve watched a lot of your family grow up, and I have loved them, but I never really felt like they were my family, too—until now. Now”—she glances down at Kelly—“we have a family together.”

“Indeed we do,” Pearl replies. Careful of her injured arm, she gently leans into Beatrice and rests her face against Beatrice’s shoulder.

Outside, a little ways away, Dean burns a couple tires. The toxic smoke drifts into Pearl and Beatrice’s house. The two women exchange looks. “Why don’t you let me handle it this time?” Beatrice asks, and gets up before Pearl can argue.

She goes to the kitchen, packs a half dozen strawberry tarts into a lunch sack, slips on her boots, and walks with her normal bounce across the field. She stops at the trees, practices a few of her best wheezes, then continues up the little rise to Dean’s burn barrel.

“Why, hello, Miss Beatrice!” Dean smiles at her. “How is Miss Pearl doing?”

Beatrice wheezes and replies, “Oh, she’s doing all right, thanks to you, Dean.” She pauses to wheeze some more, and gasps for air. “You are not only a good neighbor, but a hero. Here, I brought you some strawberry tarts I made today. It’s such a small gesture for the gratitude I feel in my heart.”

“Oh, Miss Beatrice, I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have,” he says. But the moon, like Beatrice, can see that Dean rather likes that word, “hero.”

“Us old women are vulnerable, you know, so it warms my heart to know we have such a good, kind soul living next door looking out for us.” She gasps for breath and coughs.

Dean blushes. “Miss Beatrice, you have a terrible cough. Are you sick?”

“Actually, Dean, it’s your burn barrel. You see, I have terrible asthma. When smoke from your burn barrel comes and fills our house, I can’t breathe. I noticed Olive’s premature baby is having trouble breathing tonight, too. But don’t worry about us, Dean. I know you are just doing what you have to do. In fact, I actually wanted to apologize. Usually, since I can’t breathe, I know Miss Pearl comes over in her most confrontational way. I apologize for all her rude behavior. Sometimes people have to burn, Dean, I understand that. I just came over tonight to deliver these tarts and thank you for saving Pearl’s life.” Beatrice pauses to wheeze some more. “I saw your mother at the post office today and told her what an exceptional young man you are. Of course, word had spread all around town before the ambulance even drove away with Pearl about what a hero you are, so I didn’t have to tell her. She is so proud of you.”

“Aw, shucks, Miss Beatrice.” Dean picks up his hose and walks over to the spigot to turn on the water. “I am so sorry about my burn barrel. I’ll have to pay more attention to the wind when I burn. Please forgive me. You know I’d never mean to cause you harm.”

“Of course I know that, Dean. You’re a good boy. We’re lucky to have you for a neighbor. I better get back to help with the baby.” Wheeze. “It was sure nice talking with you, Dean.”

“Always a pleasure, Miss Beatrice!”

Beatrice smiles to herself as she walks back to the house, up the porch stairs, and in the back door. She strikes a victorious pose, hands on her hips. “Pearl, you catch more flies with honey,” she whispers.

The moon above understands something about the part of its face that is seen depending on where the sun shines its light. And from above where time and time again it is in its own way anew, the moon sees second chances everywhere.

It sees Phil and Anna doing the tango by candlelight late into the night at the Starlight Motel in Summerville. Other guests can see their silhouettes dancing back and forth between the red candle and the curtain.

It sees Forrest in his new lookout tower with a new used guitar, putting his poetry to music. He thinks about Olive and Kelly, and writes a lullaby.

He thinks maybe, just maybe, he’ll sing that song to his own kids one day. He doesn’t know for sure, but for the first time he’s open to it.

The moon sees Josh and Jade finish Olive’s roof, dump the last of the dirt up there, smooth it out, then plant the strawberries and thyme. It sees them rinse off dirt and sweat by running through the irrigation sprinklers and then hold hands as they walk back to Olive’s house, drenched, hang their clothes over the porch furniture, then fall asleep under a blanket on an air mattress on Olive’s living room floor, entwined, their limbs like the stripes on a beautiful zebra.

And the moon sees Aretha grow in the body of Lula, preparing to reunite with Jade in a few short months.

The moon knows that just as it must wax and wane, just as another full moon is inevitable, so are second chances in humanity below.