The Heavenly Heart (15 page)

What a life.

FORTY-THREE

The Step of Denial

I figure the Step of Denial will be the place we confront all of the things in our life we don’t want to face. I’m wrong. It’s a mountain. It’s filled with more trees than I’ve ever seen stuck in one place before. And on each of the trees are a ga-zillion leaves. Carla runs ahead of me.

“These trees have our names on them!” she shouts. “Here’s my forest.” She extends one arm, then, spins around in the opposite direction. “And you’ve got one of your own! “Look, Lorelei!”

I don’t want to look. There’s bound to be a tree dedicated to Mona and the Silver Lining, showing clearly the fact that if I hadn’t died, Mona would have.

“Isn’t it cool?”

“Right,” I say, but don’t go any closer. I’m glued to the spot where I’m standing. I’m about ready to tell her I don’t want to see what’s hanging in my forest, when curiosity gets the better of me. I inch forward. There are sixteen trees in my grove—one for each year of my life. I take a look at the first one. The branches are dripping in leaves. One moment of my life is stamped on each one. The first tree’s covered with firsts—cute—my first tooth, my first step, a bump on the head, an ice cream cone dripping down my chin—hey, nothing scary here. I inch up to the tree when I’m sixteen. It’s loaded with all the fun times me and Paige and Annalise had: Dances, and slumber parties, and summer vacation.  Cool! But, if I go any further, I’m bound to see the leaf with the events of what happened the night I came here. I don’t want to see that. I turn back. What difference does it make anyway? I’m already here, already, alright?

Carla’s scouring each of her trees. She’s laughing and crying and jumping up and down.

“Here’s the first time Joey kissed me!” she says and hugs herself. “And look, it’s Christmas and he’s given me his ring.” She dances from tree to tree making her way to the last one. She spins around to avoid colliding with it and makes her way to my forest of greenery. She tumbles past my primary trees and enters the world of my junior high school years and on to high school as well. She sure is nosey.  I watch as she goes to the very last tree that makes up my forest.

“Oh look, Lorelei,” she says. “You’re driving a Land Rover!”

Duh! I could’ve told her that.

“Come see,” Carla says. “You’ve got the stereo blasting. And you’re driving like Danica Patrick in the Daytona Five Hundred.”

There’s a lump in my throat. It hurts like the dickens. I swallow several times, but it’s still there. I start running.

“Lorelei?” Carla calls to me.

I turn around a motion for her to follow. She ignores me. “Leave them alone!” I yell.

“Oh, come and see, silly,” she says, sifting through the final leaves. She finds the last one. “Uuuuuh!” she gasps—“Oh Lorelei—!” Her face is whiter than cotton.

I love Carla, but right now I could just slap her silly.

“Oh, no,” she moans softly. “Lorelei, you’re about to—to hit a train.” she says and covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes are bigger than softballs.

“I knew it! The Step of Denial—they got that right. I turn and fly down the steps like I’m on fire. I don’t want to see those dumb old leaves. They’re stamped with the details of exactly what happened the night I died. I’m starting to remember it all on my own. I don’t need any reminders.

FORTY-FOUR

The Silver Lining

I’m in the Silver Lining. I love watching my life like I’m still alive. And the most amazing thing has happened! Just when you completely abandon hope, the unexpected shows up and says,
Hey guys, guess what
?

Mona’s recovering! It’s been nearly a month with her battle to survive with the motorcycle man’s kidney, and finally, she’s made it—the drugs to fight off rejection are working.

“You just never know,” the doctor says.

Mona and her husband are real happy. His mother and the kids are at the hospital. They flew up from Texas. Even baby Bradley. One of her friends, Mrs. Hailey came with her. Probably because the kids are three handfuls, I’m telling you. Right now, they’re running around Mona’s room like it’s Christmas. Even Bobby, Jr.’s all wound up. There’re flying back to Sugar Land this afternoon, but Mona has to stay.

“It won’t be long,” the doctor says. “We’ll have you on your way in no time.”

Mona’s spends the entire morning entertaining the kids. They’re still all over the place. She looks totally wore out, if you ask me. Thankfully, it’s not long before this trio of monkeys has to leave for the airport. After three rounds of kisses, hugs and goodbye’s they’re ready to leave, along with there grandmother and Mrs. Hailey.

“See you soon, kids,” Mona says, blowing kisses in the air. “Be good for Nana, now,” she adds. Thanks for helping out, Mrs. Hailey.”

Bobby, Jr’s runs down the hall ahead of them and heads toward the elevators. By the time they catch up to him he’s busy pressing all the buttons. Bradley’s doing summersaults. Only Alison is behaving herself. Maybe they didn’t really think this through, putting these two old ladies in charge of these three kids. Mona always seemed to have them under control, but to look at them now—it’s like Yee Gads, what happened?

In the morning Mona’s blood work comes back with even better results than the doctors hoped for.

“One more round of tests tomorrow. Then, we’ll repeat them in forty-eight hours and—and depending on the results—you’re set to go.”

I’m glad I didn’t give up hope in the Silver Lining. Of course, it won’t change anything in the real world, but it’s nice to know if I were alive, Mona would be, too. I look around at all the people, going about their day. Do they realize how blessed they are to be here? Do they understand how important each and every moment is? I’d give anything to be back. I wish I were back. I really do! If I were, I’d never be sad again—never. I’d just grab a hold of gratitude the moment I got out of bed and hang on to it 24/7. I mean it.

*      *      *

I’m off to see Garrett. He’s at the drive-in with Amy Jo. I want to see what she’s up to. Just as I expected, she’s cuddling up to him like he’s her dream date. It’s a beautiful night—there’s not a cloud in sight. The sky’s black as tar and peppered with stars. It’s October, my favorite time of year. The air’s just a little bit cool and filled with the smell of burning leaves and leftover rain. The movie’s in full swing, The DaVinci Code—a re-run—that’s all they show here. They’re at the part where Langdon falls down a well. Garrett lifts his arm and swings it around Amy’s shoulder and smacks her in the jaw with his elbow.

“Uhhhh—!” she says and rubs the area below her cheek. It’s already turning pink. He got her good.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I—I—I’m a little nervous.

He tries to pat her cheek, but she pulls away, so he leans in to kiss her instead

“Oh Amy Jo,” he moans and put his lips on hers.

She starts having a coughing fit.  He hands her his coke.

“Are you alright?”

She nods and takes a sip, but not before wiping off the straw with the sleeve of her sweater.

When Garrett tries to kiss her again, she lets him. His eyes are closed. Hers are open wide and rolling in their sockets.

I want to smack her right in the face. I do the next best thing. I grab her coke and pour what’s left of it over her head. Ah—there’s more left then I thought.

“Garrett Jennings!” she yells. “What is
wrong with you
?”

FORTY-FIVE

The Golden Window

Miss phony-baloney Amy Jo Foster didn’t get her wish. Garrett didn’t utter the words she was so intent on taking back to her pals. After he finished kissing her, he smacked her again with his other elbow, this time along side of her head. He spent the rest of the evening apologizing for being such a klutz and she spent most of hers in the ladies room trying to wash the coke syrup out of her hair, which was no longer so silky. All in all, Garrett’s romance is not going so well, which suits me fine. That woman’s trouble, like in double. At least he’s safe for the moment, so I peak in on my father.

He’s visiting his lawyer/lover in Savannah. She’s preparing a fantastic dinner for them at her place. She lives in this really cool townhouse down on the square. She doesn’t know it, but it’s their last supper together. Poor Kirsten; she’s is convinced my father will get a divorce and soon she’ll be the new Mrs. Alexander Goodroe. She doesn’t understand basic marriage economics. Rich men who are married aren’t about to share the spoils of their labor. Divorce would divide the pie. It’s not going to happen. And even if her wishes came true, why don’t women who have affairs with men cheating on their wives, realize these men are not good husband material to begin with? Don’t they know the odds are that they’ll cheat on them someday, too?

I will say this. She’s a very good cook. That’ll impress my father. My mother can boil eggs and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but that’s about it. Kirsten’s making soft-shell crabs, rosemary potatoes, warm lobster salad and crème caramel for desert.  The lobster salad has julienne vegetables: carrots, turnips, zucchini and celery drizzled in basil vinaigrette. She’s fixing the lobster. She simmers it for fifteen minutes in this bouillon made from thyme, parsley, a bay leaf, peppercorns and green onions, with enough water to cover the lobster. I watch her do the soft-shell crabs next. They look yummy. I’m going to pull the velvet rope and order up this
exact
same meal when I finish watching her make it. It’s fascinating.

She rinses the crabs, then pats them dry and puts a little lemon juice and salt and pepper on them. Next she sprinkles a little bit of flour over them. Then they’re browned and crisped in butter. When she finishes crisping them, she puts them on two cute little platters, one for each of them. Isn’t that neat? And she puts these sautéed cherry tomatoes on either side. It’s really pretty. Now she’s putting the lemon juice in the same pan she cooked the crabs in. In goes chopped parsley and some minced garlic and a tablespoon of butter and then she cooks this mixture until it’s brown and then pours it over the crabs. My mouth’s watering. I can’t wait to try it. The rosemary potatoes are easy to make and they look really good next to the crabs. What you do is peal some red potatoes and cut them into small bites. Then you toss them with 1 ¼ sticks of melted butter, melted in a pan for fifteen minutes and then sprinkle them with rosemary—piece of cake.

Kristen put hers in the oven for an extra thirty-five minutes, then, pierces them with a fork to make sure they are done. She sprinkles a bunch of sea salt and fresh ground pepper on top of them and puts them in this china bowl that’s got a bunch of flowers painted on the sides.

The crème caramel is next but it has too many steps for me to keep up with. It’s got sugar and milk and vanilla beans and eggs.  She uses a six-cup mold to make it and when it’s done she puts it in little individual cups set on their own silver tray. They look so cute.

My father’s arrived. After a big hug and some kisses involving their tongues, they sit down to eat. I pull my velvet cord. In a minute the same dinner I watched Kristen make arrives at my table in the Golden Window. So cool!

FORTY-SIX

The Golden Window

Miss Lily’s freaking out. Today is her and Mr. Mann’s wedding anniversary.

“We were a perfect couple, you know.” Miss Lily says, dabbing at her tears. 

Considering where Mr. Mann is, maybe they were the perfect couple except for him.

“On the day we were married he said three things to me.” Miss Lily’s eyes are sparkling.

“What?” Carla says.

“I love you, I’ll take care of you, and I’m the boss of the house.” Miss Lily leans over, clasping her hands in her lap. “So romantic—”

Miss Lily’s losing it. Onetta said a man who says he’s the boss of the house will lie about other things, too.

“That first year, I couldn’t cook,” Miss Lily explains. “Not at all.” She shakes her head and smiles through her tears.

“I used to burn the toast so he wouldn’t notice how bad the coffee was. Oh my, my, what fun we had.”

Miss Lily continues to reminisce, but it’s only making her sadder. I try to think of ways to cheer her up.

“Let’s go visit the babies!” I say. “You love playing with the babies.”

I take Miss Lily’s arm and motion for Carla to take the other. We sail over clouds softer than cotton. The sky this morning is drenched with color. Shades of lavender and peach and lemon parade before us like a giant kaleidoscope. The colors trail in front of us all the way to the door of the nursery.

The babies are having their breakfast. Those that can handle a spoon are slurping down oatmeal and munching on peanut butter toast. Bottles of milk are floating along this never-ending satin conveyor belt. The bottles are softer than putty and loaded with the creamiest milk I’ve ever seen. The babies love it. Their pudgy fingers reach out and yank the bottles off the roving belt. One big slurp is all you can hear. It’s nice to see them so well fed and happy.

I go off to find Christopher. He’s growing bigger everyday. He can say two and three word sentences. His favorite is, “Me, too,” and “Me want cookie.”

Carla and Miss Lily are feeding the babies too small to grab a bottle for themselves. They’ll be at it for hours. Miss Lily’s cuddling twin baby girls. She puts one back in the feather cradle at her feet and offers a bottle to the other. The babies are gurgling and cooing. Miss Lily’s face lights up like a lamp. Good! This is taking her mind off Mr. Mann and their first year together.

I can’t find Christopher. I meander towards the back—still no Christopher. Maybe he’s with the older ones on the playground next door. These are all the toddlers that made it to earth, but then they got real sick or had a bad accident or something and ended up here. Christopher loves to swing, so I’ll probably find him here. I search and search but no such luck, but I’m not worried. Christopher’s perfectly safe here no matter where he goes. I keep looking around the playground. It’s bigger than a football field. There’s enough swings to reach around the world. And there’s fifty dozen merry-go-rounds, teeter-totters, slides, tree houses, forts, rock-climbing walls, rope climbers, jungle gyms and these elaborate climbing boulders. I’m surrounded by a sea of squealing, jumping children, but Christopher’s nowhere in sight. I walk to the water park. It holds a huge assortment of wading pools in every size and shape. There are kiddie pools, whale spray pools, mushroom-capped baby pools, rafting pools, and sun shade pools. There are slides, tiny whirl pools, giant seahorse pools, and butterfly baby pools. Christopher’s not their, either. Then I spot him. He’s at the Jump and Slide, this gigantic slide that’s bigger than a house. It’s the kind parent’s rent for birthday parties if they can afford it. Here it’s an everyday event, along with the Moon Walks. There are hundreds of them, and the kids are jumping up and down like Kangaroos.