Softly and Tenderly (34 page)

“It takes two to make a relationship, Jade.”

“I didn’t appreciate her. I didn’t learn from her. I was too arrogant to think she had anything to teach me. And now, it’s too late.”

Margot gripped Jade’s shoulders. “Jade, she lives in your DNA. She will always be with you.”

“Am I interrupting?” Max took his place on the mound with the three of them.

“N-no, Max,” Daphne said, unable to look directly at him.

“Can I speak to Jade alone for a second?”

“Sure.” Daphne backed away.

Margot touched Jade’s arm before leaving. “We’ll be helping Willow with the barbecue. The dudes from the restaurant are very cute. A bit young, but
very
cute.”

Jade smiled. Margot got her every time. “You do that.”

“You holding up?” Max’s voice was tender in her ear. He stood near enough for their arms to touch. His warmth penetrated through to her soul.

“Barely.”

“Babe, I need to leave after lunch. If I don’t get home in time to get organized, I won’t be able to fly out to Texas Sunday night. I hate the timing of this—”

“When I was twelve,” Jade started, “Mama split from Willow’s dad, Mike. Mama had enough of men and marriage, of kids, so she took off with Carlisle and her carnival. She called Aiden out here, right where we’re standing. Then me. She sat here with her face to the setting sun. Said she’d be gone for about four months, and I was to look after two-year-old Willow. Help out Granny. Not to fight with Aiden. Told me where I could find money and diapers.” She looked up at Max. “And here I am again.”

“I don’t have to go to Texas, Jade. I can go later.”

“Max, go to Texas.” Jade patted his arm. “If you don’t, this window will close forever.”

“I don’t want to abandon you.”

“Your son needs a drug-free dad. I’m going to stay here for a while, at the house.”

“What about the Blue Umbrella and Blue Two?”

“Just a couple of fancy junk shops.”

“Stop. You worked hard to build those businesses. You’re a respected—”

“Junk dealer. Sanford and Daughter.” Her laugh was sardonic and cold. “Daughter . . . I could have a daughter now, but I don’t. I killed her.” Jade glanced up at Max. “How can you ask me to keep your son when you know what I did to my own child?”

“Stop.” Max grabbed her and turned her to him. “Jade, this is a dark path. You don’t want to travel here. You’re being unreasonable.”

She squared her shoulders, pressing against his hand. “Am I? Have I said anything untrue?”

“Factually, no. In tone and intent, yes. Very untrue. Jade, we can have Tom keep working the issue on the Blue Two insurance. Lillabeth can keep the Blue Umbrella going. Take time up here if you need it, but don’t quit, Jade. It’s not in you.”

Jade stepped off the mound, heading for the cluster of cars sitting askew on the lawn by the barn. Dustin stood by his truck, hands in his pockets, ankles crossed. He was watching her.

Max regarded him for a moment. “Listen, Jade. Mom will take Asa, if you decide—”

“Good, good, I—I think that’s best.” Jade pressed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I can’t be more for you right now.”

He enveloped her in his arms. “It’s okay.”

They walked side by side to the house. In the kitchen, Carla and June had organized the paper goods and side dishes on the counter. Daphne and Margot, along with a small troupe of women, waited to march it all out to the barn.

“Jade?” June’s hand brushed Jade’s shoulder, her latest L.L.Bean sweater tied around her shoulders. Her blonde hair hung loose about her high cheeks and broad chin. “You doing all right?”

“As well as one can the day her mother is buried.” At the sink she filled a glass with water and stared out the window.

Upstairs, Mama’s room was empty. The bed made, the blinds open, the oxygen tank and medicines gone. And by this time tomorrow, the house, the lawn, Jade’s life, would be quiet and alone. Stopped. Waiting for direction.

Her hand shook as she drank, but the water cooled her dry, hot insides. Her arms and legs wobbled with a hollow sensation, almost like they were detached from the rest of her. The burnt amber popped up over her thoughts, deeper, fiercer than before. The swirling purple rising from her soul was spotted with a penetrating black.

Batting her eyelids, she tried to clear away the blur and organize her thoughts. But they were caught in the gathering storm. She’d hoped she’d make it through the day without sinking into panic, without dodging anxiety. Grief had been a great anesthesia so far.

Yet in the span of a few seconds, Jade felt weightless, spinning, lost and adrift, like a ship at sea on a starless night.

Outside the window, Jade spotted Aiden and Willow on the lawn with Carlisle and Eclipse, who drove in from California and had to leave tonight. Mike Ayers and Daddy, who flew in today, joined their circle, looking as if they were reminiscing. Even in death, Jade let Mama down. Did she call Dad like she’d asked? No. Aiden had called. Daddy was leaving in a few hours. Rebel’s plane waited to fly him home, but he was trying to convince June to go with him. His swearing in was postponed until next week. And June appeared to be weakening. And now, she apparently had guardianship of Asa.

In the morning, Aiden would be gone. Willow in the afternoon.

Jade gulped the last of her water. Mama was dead. In the cold ground. Reminiscing or staring at the pictures of her Aiden had enlarged and set on easels wouldn’t bring her back.

Jade stumbled back from the sink, pushed by an internal pressure. Mama. She wanted her . . . Here . . . now . . .
I want you back, Mama
.

The bottomless sensation of aloneness doused her. Burnt amber collided with the purple swirls. She reached for the counter. She floated, the swirl lifting her soul from the kitchen. Jade’s glass dropped from her hand, crashing but not breaking against the hardwood.

Mama .
. .

The call echoed in her chest, but not from her voice. Max’s boy wandered into Jade’s view framed by the sink window. His little brown jacket hung loose over his shoulders. The tip of his nose was red and runny, while a tuft of his black hair stuck up from the crown of his head. “Mama?”

Why was he wandering alone? He could get lost.
Max? June?
No one trailed after him. Were they all in the barn? Did they just leave him?

Asa stopped toddling when he reached the edge of the grass and fell forward, catching himself with one pudgy hand to the ground. When he stood upright again, he stared at his hand, slapping away the dirt.

Jade figured he’d turn and do his little one-arm-pumping run toward the barn, but he remained still, staring at something Jade couldn’t see. Then his head jerked toward the house, his bright eyes wide. He made a circle, looking. A pout weighted his little red lip, and even from the distance, Jade saw his brow tighten and tears emerge.

His lips moved. The wind captured his tiny, “Mama.”

Jade fell against the sink’s edge and stretched toward the window. Oh, his shoulders were trembling. Jade smacked the window frame with her palm, then shoved open the pane.

“Mama.” His tiny voice broke through the screen. “Ma-ma.” Asa tipped his head back. His wail hit Jade and trailed down her limbs to her toes. “Ma-ma! Ma-ma!” Tears sparkled on his raw, red cheeks. “
Maaamaaa
.”

Jade jerked straight, her middle constricting, her heart beating.
Mama
. Slowly, she collapsed to the floor, the boy’s cry chasing her own wail. “Maaama . . .” She buried her face against her arms.

She wept hard. But when she heard voices, she raised her head, weak and drained. As if she’d cried for days.

June’s voice skimmed passed, then Max’s, comforting Asa. On her hands and knees, Jade crawled to the back door to peer out. Max was swinging Asa up in his arms, and the boy clung to his daddy’s neck, shivering. “Mama.”

Mama
.

Jade crawled across the kitchen, burnt amber blinding her thoughts, rising to her feet as she reached the living room. Flutters filled her chest. Her thoughts fired without aim into a thickening fog. She burst out the front door and stumbled down the stairs.

Her body moved, but she couldn’t feel her hands or feet. The only sound was the thrust of her breath in her ears.

Down the driveway . . . toward the road . . . She watched herself as if standing on the roof of the house. Slapping her hands to her face, her pulse surged. Her nose . . . her eyes . . . she couldn’t feel them.

What if it was all a lie? If the man on the donkey was an evil, lying demon carting Mama off to hell.
No, no, no
. What if the whole big deal about God and the afterlife, going to heaven and meeting “on that beautiful shore” was a myth? A grand illusion?

What if there was no true hope? Jade ran, stumbling on the pebbled berm, gasping to fill her shallow lungs.

Did she let Mama go into nothingness? She might explode with a single scream.
Mama!

A car horn shoved Jade from the side of the road into the ditch. She caught her fall with the heels of her hands. A rock had gashed her knee, so blood glistened against her skin and soaked into her skirt. Climbing out of the ditch, numb and detached, Jade bolted down the road, escaping from some
thing
, aiming at no
thing
.

Twenty-seven

Max heard shouts. He listened as he wiped Asa’s mouth. More shouts. Jade, they were calling Jade.

Max peered out the barn door. Beyond the edge of the lawn, Jade was running in her skirt with Willow and Dustin chasing after her. Mourners began to cluster on the lip of the lawn.

“Mom.” Max glanced around for her while tugging his Mercedes keys from his pocket. “Watch Asa.”

Running stole her air but gave her some sense of being. Her heartbeat roared in her ears and shoved all the air from her fiery lungs. Twice she’d stumbled and twisted her ankle. But she couldn’t stop . . . the darkness would win.

Beneath her skirt, her feet kicked, striding, and her hands pumped at her side, the scenario fixed in the gray plane of Jade’s mind.

Footsteps hammered the pavement behind her. She fell again, face-first, into the pavement, screaming. Yet the sound in her throat never escaped her lips.

Jade
.
Stop. Jade-o
.

Gripping the air, she struggled to her feet.
Run or the darkness will devour you
. Then she heard it. A clear, pure voice slicing through the confusion and darkness.

I AM home. Come to Me
.

She’d taken one step when a firm hand grasped her arm and whipped her around. “Jade, whoa, hold up, it’s me, Dustin.” He held her chin, his eyes trying to capture hers. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

She tried to break free, but his grip bit into her flesh. “Let me go, Dustin.” She huffed, gulping in all the air she could. Dustin’s fragrance of soap and cologne burnt her nostrils. “Let me go.”

The darkness was catching her. Where was the voice? Its clarion sound?

Burnt amber filled her senses. The swirling purple chained her ankles to the ground, then slithered up her legs and reached for her arms. She twisted with a huff. “Let me go, Dustin, let me go. I can’t breathe.”

But he refused. “Jade, stay with me . . . it’s okay . . .”

“I can’t feel myself, Dustin. Not my face, or my feet, just darkness, colors, evil colors . . . please, can you see me? Is my face there?”

“Yes, every beautiful part of you is there. Your face, your feet. Breathe with me. Deep inhale . . . exhale. Think peace. You’re fine, Jade. You’re fine. You’re just having a panic attack.”

“No, no.” Jade gulped. “I’ve had those, Dustin, this . . . this is, is more. Terror. Tell me, please”—she fastened her hands on his arms—“that Mama is with Jesus, Dustin. He’s real, right? Jesus, God? This whole eternal life. Who created Him? Who? I can’t see it . . .” Jade heard herself rambling but couldn’t stop. Her heart began to ache. “Tell me, Dustin.”

“Your mom is with Jesus. God is very real. He’s love. You can trust Him. Jesus said He is the way, the truth, and the life. Say it with me, Jade.”

She swallowed, nodding, trying to remember . . . What did he want her to say?

“Come on, Jade.” Dustin coaxed her.

“He is”—her eyes followed Dustin’s lips—“the way, the truth, and the life.”

The declaration inserted the first sliver of peace in her soul.

“Say it again. ‘He is the way . . .’”

“The truth, the life. Jesus is the way, the truth, the life. No man comes to the Father but by Him.”

She repeated the verse again with Dustin, her heartbeat slowing, the burnt amber fading, the purple swirls hissing and letting go, falling away. The fog clouding her mind dissipated. Sensation returned to her hands and feet. She touched and felt her face.

“How’re you doing?” Dustin searched her eyes. “Better?”

She inhaled deep and brushed her hand over her damp forehead, shoving her bangs aside. “Yes, better. Better.” The burn in her lungs began to cool.

She smiled at Dustin as Max’s Mercedes skidded to a stop. He fired out of the door, leaving the car in the middle of the road with the engine running. “Jade, what happened? Are you okay, babe?” Max stepped around Dustin, slightly shoving him aside.