Softly and Tenderly (14 page)

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Authors: Sara Evans

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BOOK: Softly and Tenderly
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For June, the excitement and anticipation of seeing Whisper Hollow in the Caddy’s rearview was long gone. And they weren’t even out of Tennessee yet.

“Are we there yet?” June viewed Jade through the mirror.

“You’re driving, you tell me. What’s Mr. Garmin telling you?”

“Two down, twelve to go.” June smacked the side of the small box. “Tell the truth now, we’re nearly there.”

What was she thinking? She hated road trips. When she told Jade she wanted in on this trip to Iowa—she’d been to Paris, but not Prairie City—her daughter-in-law tried to warn her about a thirteen-hour road trip, but no, June had to surrender to the moment. She had visions of laughter and music while cruising “the strip” in her pink Cadillac. Bruce Springsteen, where was he when she needed him?

But the wind was noisy, not to mention cold. The sun’s warmth had little impact while going seventy miles an hour. The engine was sound, but not quiet and humming like her Lexus. Beryl dozed against the window, and in the back, Jade stared blankly at the passing road signs.

Now what? June was about to go to sleep at the wheel when Jade appeared on her right shoulder. Thank goodness. Conversation.

“What did Rebel say when you told him you were leaving?”

“I didn’t tell him.” She picked up her cell. “He’s not bothered to call me in days.” June tucked her phone back into the Caddy’s ashtray. “Truth is, now that I’ve left him, I feel out of sorts. Maybe I acted too hastily.”

“You acted too late if you ask me,” Beryl said. “June, if he cheated on you when you were home, what’s he going to do now?”

June’s breakfast churned in her cramping stomach. Dear Lord, help her. She still loved him.

“Okay, here’s our first road trip rule.” Jade held up her finger in between June and Beryl. “No more talk of men. This is girls only.”

“All right, I can live with that. Good thinking, Jade.” June honked the horn as she passed an 18-wheeler, pressing the gas, flying down the highway at a whopping seventy-two miles per hour. Wild and crazy was uncharted territory for her, but she was desperate to give it a go.

“I need a potty break,” Beryl said, still doing a grand imitation of—what was it Jade called her—a tick about to pop?

Yet Beryl was smiling. And the sun and wind had put a bloom on her sallow cheeks.

“Jade, what about you?” June rose up to peek at Jade through the rearview. She sat hunched up with the scarf around the lower half of her face. “Ready for a break?”

“Whatever Mama needs.”

“Next exit then.” The Caddy floated down the highway toward the next exit.

Beryl turned on the radio and upped the volume. The Beatles joined the souls in the car, “I do appreciate you being ’round . . .”

“I had the biggest crush on Paul McCartney,” June said above the wind. “You mentioned Robert Redford, Beryl, but—”

“I hung out with George Harrison in San Fran the summer of ’67. He came by the Haight.”

“My stars.” June gasped. The car swerved a bit. “You met
George Harrison
?” “We weren’t best friends, but I said hi to him and he winked, ‘Beryl, right?’ He was with Patty Boyd in those days.”

“Who else, Beryl? Who else did you meet?” June sat up straight as if braced for a race, gripping the wheel.

“Oh goodness . . . Grace Slick, the Dead, Bob Dylan, Joplin. And a bunch of people you never heard of, dead hippies now, most of them.”

“Beryl, what a life. So much adventure.”

“My cousin Marilyn dated the stage manager at the Fillmore, so we had passes to all the good shows. But in them days, Dylan and the like were
our
troubadours,
our
pied pipers. No one ever heard of them. There was no such thing as superstars.”

“I was still listening to The Lettermen . . .” For a second, June peeked back at her life, trying to see the roads not taken. Her mind’s eye squeezed shut. What good would pretending do? She’d lived the life she chose. She’d not have Max otherwise.

“Magical days. The world is so different. We were so naive. But we thought we had all the answers. We were going to change the world.”

“You were beyond naive.” Jade appeared on June’s right again, tapping Beryl’s shoulder. “Tell her about Charles Manson.”

“What?” June began to veer off the road, the tires skidding along in the berm. “
The
Charles Manson?” Her heart murmured just imagining meeting him.

“One and the same. Tell her how you hung out with a mass murderer, Mama.” Jade poked Beryl in the arm again.

“I didn’t know he was
the
Charles Manson. He was just a creepy man with a lot of skinny, vacant-eyed girls following him.”

“How did you meet him?”

“At a party. There was always a party at the Haight. He liked to hang around musicians, fancied himself as one. But I never saw the fascination with him.” She shivered. “I did a lot of wild, stupid things, and it’s hair-raising to see how close I came to danger. Now I know my parents’ prayers covered me in my youth.”

“Beryl.” June thumped the steering wheel. “Charles Manson . . . mercy.”

“He smelled. And had this sneaky, evil grin. One of the girls Marilyn and I ran around with thought he was the living end. Her father came for her just in time. Other girls weren’t so fortunate. Bunch of runaways showing up in San Francisco with no money, no place to live. The vultures quickly snapped them up, getting the girls on drugs, abusing them. Men like Manson were everywhere.”

“Do you regret any of it, Beryl?”

“I wish I’d spent more time with my kids.” She stared out her window without even a peek at Jade. “What about you, June? Any regrets?”

“Look there, our exit.” June swerved the big car toward the ramp, pressing hard on the brake.

“Come on, June. Girls’ trip. Got to confess a regret.”

“I wish I hadn’t let my mother talk me into yellow bridesmaids’ dresses.” A snort slipped through her nose. “With the hairstyle of the day, my bridal party looked like a bunch of bouffant canaries.”

“Bouffant canaries? That’s the worst you got?” Beryl’s laugh sounded like tiny bells. “That has to be right up there with meeting Charles Manson.”

June merged onto the exit ramp, slowing the Caddy down in time to stop for the light. “Maybe worse.”

Twelve

The Tennessee sun surrendered to Kentucky clouds by mid-afternoon. An icy chill filled the Caddy, and on the last stop, Jade insisted on raising the top.

After June talked them into an outlet mall excursion near Nashville, Jade took over driving, hoping to make up time by pushing the speed limit. Between Mama’s bathroom stops and June’s detour, they’d lost a good bit of the driving day.

In the backseat June dozed, exhausted from speed shopping. She purchased enough for a fourth suitcase. Mama gazed out the passenger window with a contemplative expression, freed from the ski gear.

Was she thinking of home? Of dying? In the last thirty minutes, pressure started mounting in Jade’s spirit to ask Mama if she was ready to die, to stand before God. But finding the words proved difficult. New in her faith in Christ, Jade hadn’t spent much time in the witness chair. Mama seemed like a good place to start. Or not.

In the months Mama had lived with them in Whisper Hollow, she’d attended church without complaint. Sang along in worship. Followed Reverend Girden’s Scripture reading with a pew Bible opened in her lap.

But she’d never confessed in Jade’s hearing, “Jesus is my Lord.”

Jade squirmed, inhaled, lowered the volume on the radio.
So, Mama, I was
wondering if .
. .

“Dairy Queen. Look. Next exit.” Mama rapped the window. Knuckle-sized imprints dotted the glass. “Paducah, Kentucky. Paducah. Pa-du-
cah
. Isn’t that a funny word? Where are you from, friend? Pa-du-
cah
.”

“Did I hear Dairy Queen?” June’s sleepy face peered over the seat. “I haven’t been to one in so long. Let’s stop. Road trip food.”

“Dairy Queen it is.” Jade took the exit, settling her question and courage back in the box . . . for now.

The Dairy Queen was connected to a Subway, which was tucked inside a gas station. Jade filled the Caddy’s gas tank while June walked Mama inside. Staring toward the western horizon and the golden hue of the traveling sun, the fragrance of the air reminded Jade of Prairie City.

It would be good to step into Granny’s place. Home. Jade wondered what Max might be doing. Working? Moving in his son? She looked away from the mental image of her husband cradling the towheaded boy.

While the gas pumped, Jade pulled her phone from her jeans pocket. If she dialed him, then what? He’d start up again with how he needed and wanted her home.

Funny, in the midst of all of this, his apology and regret, he never once asked her what she needed or how all of this made her feel. She’d expressed herself, but he never reached out to her heart. What were best friends for otherwise?

With a glance back at the DQ, Jade spotted June settling Mama at a table. Even sitting in the car wore her out. For Jade, anxiety perched on the ledge of her soul most of the afternoon, looking for a moment to jump in and gum up her peace.

The balance was precarious.

Dialing the Blue Umbrella, Jade talked with Lillabeth, ignoring the pulsing twinge in her belly. All was well at the shop. A few new consignments had come in. Lillabeth sold the miniature tea set and the set of leather-bound first editions. On Saturday, Dani Olsen agreed to cover the shop so Lillabeth could check out an estate sale in Johnson City.

“Remind me to give you a raise.”

“Jade, give me a raise.”

“Done.” The pump clicked off. Jade lifted the nozzle and replaced it. “How much do you think you’ll need for the estate sale?”

“I don’t know . . . it’s mostly clothes and jewelry.”

“I’ll budget a thousand. Call me if you find anything above and beyond.”

Jade wound up the call with Lillabeth, tucking the gas receipt in her pocket. While she’d insisted June pay for some of the gas, Jade refused her help at the last stop. This trip was her gift to Mama.

With a fast glance back at the Diary Queen, seeing Mama and June talking at a table, Jade moved toward the end of the pump island and stared west into the setting sun. The cold, sharp air refreshed her worn, dull thoughts. She inhaled deep and exhaled long.

On impulse, she dialed Daphne. She was on the air, but sometimes . . .

“Hey, just a sec . . . Linda, I’m up against a break, so hang on the line and we’ll see how we can help you with your relationship when we come back from the break at the top of the hour. This is the
Daphne Delaney Show
.” Jade heard the commercial roll in the background, then Daphne’s voice soothing her ear. “Jade, hey, how are you?”

“Standing. I’m taking Mama to Iowa. With June.”

“With June? How’d that happen?”

“She wanted to go and she had the road trip car, a honking big pink Cadillac.”

“Are you holding up okay?” Daphne asked.

“Still feels kind of surreal. How could he have been so deceitful, Daphne?”

“You’ve weathered some tough storms, girl. You’ll get through this one.”

Jade walked to the edge of the pump banks, her heart too sad for the lovely bluegrass evening. She reached for the medallion resting at the base of her neck. The first wave of purple panic sloshed around her feet.

“I don’t want to
weather
another storm. When I married Max, the storms were supposed to end. How do I deserve this? Who have I made mad? What sin have I committed that prevents me from happiness?”

“You don’t believe in karma, Jade, so don’t go there. Trust in your faith. I knew you before you met Jesus and I see how much you’ve changed.” Daphne didn’t believe in Jesus, but she understood how to tap into a person’s faith system. It’s what made her a great psychiatrist. What won her the radio show.

“I just can’t get past the idea of Max and Rice, Daph. I try, but there’s a constant ache in my chest. I can’t just chalk it up to one stupid night in Vegas. What happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas. It came alive in the bright eyes of a little boy.”

“Are you struggling with panic again? Have you tried the visualizing techniques I gave you?”

“I close my eyes to imagine something beautiful, peaceful, and what do I see? Max making love to his ex-fiancée.” Jade set her foot in a pothole on the edge of the pavement.

“Picture yourself forgiving him and—”

“Thirty seconds, Daphne.”

“Looking past that one night. I need to go in a few . . . Hey, want to call the show?”

“Only if I can say Max’s and Rice’s names.”

“That’s my girl, moving right past the pain into revenge. Okay, quick, do this for me. Focus on a memory or place, on something beautiful.”

Jade faced the warm twilight hovering over the glossy horizon.

“Are you in a good place?”

“Yes.” It’s what Daphne wanted to hear.

“Look deep, past the moment, past the imagery, and into the future. What do you see, Jade? Where are you and Max in a year?”

Jade narrowed her eyes, straining to see her life beyond the thin line where heaven touched earth, where the amber lights of the highway twinkled like fallen stars.

“Five seconds.”

“Jade, what do you see?”

“I don’t see anything, Daphne. I don’t see anything.”

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