The Rockin' Chair (8 page)

John sighed at the wishful thinking. Grabbing both her cheeks, he returned the kiss. “You're an angel, for certain,” he told her, “and my son got as lucky as I did.” Looking over at Hank, he could see the terrible anguish his son was holding in. John knew it only too well. “Mighty obliged for the hand today,” he told Hank. “Me and your ma surely needed it.”

Hank nodded but never uttered a word.

John let them go with a wave. He then watched them pull out of the long drive before heading for the porch. Removing the handkerchief from his back pocket, he dusted off several inches of snow that covered his rocking chair. Strangely, though John had always felt that all things were a gift passed down from God—and, in turn, passing on each gift that was borrowed—for some unwritten law, nobody ever sat in the chair but him. Crafted of hard wood that had been beaten by the harsh, ever-changing seasons, it was certainly nothing majestic. Still, unless someone was sitting in his lap, they stayed clear of the simple throne. He read the four names carved into the seat and smiled. From the moment of each birth, they'd all spent their childhoods rocking, laughing and learning to love.

John looked back toward the sky.
There's still a few hours of sunlight.
He gave it a couple more brushes before he was satisfied the chair was clean. Nodding once, he stuffed the rag back into his overalls and stepped into the house.

On the ride home, Elle could hardly contain her excitement. “So it looks like you and Pa made some real progress in the barn today,” she said.

Hank shrugged. “We squared everything away for winter I suppose.”

She grabbed his hand. “That's not what I'm talking about, Hank.”

He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “My ma's dyin',” he explained. “I did the right thing by lendin' a hand is all.”

“Oh,” she said, studying his face. “I thought you boys were finally …”

“Then you thought wrong, Elle,” he interrupted before turning on the radio.

Elle was still shaking her head when they arrived home.

When John stepped into the bedroom, he discovered that Alice was sleeping peacefully just as Elle had reported. So as not to disturb her, he carefully leaned over, gave her a kiss and then noticed the photo that sat on her nightstand. Dried remnants of her breakfast were smeared on the mouths of each of their grandchildren. Evidently, Alice had wanted to share her oatmeal with the kids. John stroked her hair and sighed. “Squaw, you always was a generous woman,” he whispered.

He took a seat at the small oak table near the window and began searching for the best way to say it. Some time ago he decided to keep a journal and wrote when the spirit moved him. With all the feelings churning inside him, he was more than moved and needed to get them all out. Besides, there was so much that still needed to be said.

One hour and two pages later, John felt the most horrible sensation rip through his body. He dropped the pen and looked back at his beloved wife. They'd been together so long that it was difficult to figure out whose feeling it was. It all blended together now. It was at that very moment he knew. He just knew.
There ain't no time to waste
, he thought. Ignoring the ache in his heart, he wrapped Alice in every quilt she'd ever made, swept her up into his arms and whispered, “Let's go dancin', darlin'.”

Like a baby nestled safely in his arms, he carried the keeper of his heart out to the front porch. He stared into Alice's beautiful face and cried.
God, am I gonna miss rockin' with you,
he thought.

John closed his eyes and listened to the trees dance with the wind. He rocked slow and easy with Alice, her head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. With her every breath, he could feel her warmth on his throat. He remembered how their love had grown and swore he could smell lilac on her. The whiff nearly made him speak, but he'd already said good-bye.
Ain't no need to say it again,
he decided.

John matched Alice's every breath and began humming a soothing lullaby. He hummed her favorite tune right up until her hot breath touched his skin no more. He sang until his crying would not allow it.

In a moment that would change the course of time, Alice's body had finally taken enough. At the very instant Alice's spirit stepped out of her broken body, John could feel the better part of his heart die. She was gone and so was his purpose for breathing. For a second the air went still, while Alice's wind chimes that hung on the porch began to sing. John cried with a grief that could have thawed the coldest heart.

E
lle picked up Evan, Tara and Lila at the airport. As she approached the threesome, she gasped at the sight of her emaciated daughter. For a few moments, Tara's eyes scanned every inch of her mother's face before she spread her twig-like arms. Elle hugged her, then pulled away and peered into her sunken eyes. “Are you sick?” she asked.

While Tara shrugged, Elle grabbed Evan for a hug. “I'll explain it on the way,” he whispered in her ear.

Lila stood there, looking up at her grandmother—curiously.

Elle bent down and smiled at the baby. “Hello, my love,” she whispered, “Grandma's waited much too long to meet you.” The little girl was a living doll. She had Tara's strawberry-blond curls and the same dark eyes as Alice.

Lila grinned. “Hi, Gramma,” she said, and never flinched when Elle scooped her up and kissed her cheek.

Elle looked back at Tara and could feel her eyes swell with tears.

“Grandma?” Evan asked, grabbing her attention.

Elle shook her head, the tears beginning to cascade down her tired face.

“When?” he asked.

Elle reached for his hand. “Last night … right in Grampa's lap.”

“In the rockin' chair?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Elle nodded again.

Evan's eyes filled. “Where else?” he said.

Elle noticed the confusion in her daughter's eyes and thought,
She's so out of it.

Before Elle could explain, Evan leaned into Tara's ear and filled it with the bad news. “We're one day too late. Grandma passed away last night.”

Though delayed, Tara burst into tears.

As they left the airport terminal, Elle walked alongside Evan. “How did you find her in New York?” she asked in a whisper. “Her cell phone's been turned off for weeks.” She looked back at her daughter, who was already lagging behind.

“It wasn't easy,” he said, and shook his head. “Let's just say … thank God I did.”

On the way home from the airport, Evan sat in the passenger seat, while Elle drove. Tara remained almost comatose, with Lila sitting beside her in the back seat. The little doll stared out the window at the passing scenery. Elle turned to her son and searched his face. “You ready to talk about it?”

Evan took a deep breath. “Ma, I'm sorry you wasted your money on a plane ticket you couldn't use,” he said, his eyes never leaving the road before them.

“Please, Evan,” Elle said. “That's the least of my concerns.”

“Pa must have been pretty steamed, though.”

“Don't you go worrying about your pa, either. Besides, he was fine with it.”

“But you guys don't have money to …”

“Enough about the money, Evan,” she interrupted. “What I really want to know is … how are
you
doing?”

He half shrugged. “Long story,” he sighed.

Elle matched the shrug. “Long ride home,” she countered.

He took a deep breath. “As I wrote you in my last email, I thought things were perfect. Carley's family was planning the bridal shower, you were flying up for it and I couldn't have been more excited.” He took another deep breath. “As a pre-shower gift, I sanded and stained an unfinished rocking chair for her.”

Elle nodded.

He looked at his mother. “I even tied a big, red ribbon on the top and surprised her with it. She cried when she read the card.”

“If you don't mind me asking, what did the card say?” Elle asked.

Though Evan tried to fight them off, tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. “With this chair comes three wishes: that our children will enjoy a sound sleep each night; that throughout our lives together, this chair will remind us to sit back and relax once in a while.” He paused to compose himself. It was no use. “And finally, that it will find us in our twilight years, rocking our grandkids and counting the memories we've made together.”

Elle's eyes filled. “You've got the biggest heart of anyone I know, Evan.”

Shrugging off the compliment, he continued. “But Carley didn't share my enthusiasm for the wedding. She said it was only cold feet but I knew it was something more.” He shook his head. “She changed the password on her email … and cell phone.” Evan couldn't hold back any longer and began to cry.

“And?” Elle asked, making him continue through the tears.

“And my friend Rob followed her for a couple of nights and took some pictures of her and her old boyfriend, Paul.” He shook his head. “When I showed her the pictures, she was angry that I'd had her followed. Do you believe that?” Without awaiting an answer he said, “Anyway, that's when I called you and told you that the shower was off.”

Elle grabbed Evan's hand and held it tight.

He tried wiping his eyes, but they wouldn't stop leaking. “A few days later … I'm not sure when … I packed up my things and headed down the beach to mourn. That's when I spotted Grampa John's letter on the front seat. He said that Grandma was preparing to venture into the Promised Land and that I needed to get a hold of my sister. So, I headed for New York City.”

After a few moments, Elle said, “I'm not just saying this because you're my son but you're a good man, Evan … a very good man. I know you're hurting bad but this was Carley's failure and quite honestly, she doesn't deserve you.” She squeezed his hand even tighter. “Your wife's still out there, waiting.”

Wiping his eyes, he nodded once and then turned to stare out the passenger window for the remainder of the ride. While he grieved, Elle never let go of his hand.

When they got back to the bunkhouse, Evan hesitated before stepping inside. It felt like he was being dragged back into a bad dream. Tara just followed, seemingly unaffected by the change in surroundings.

As they entered the kitchen, Evan's skin crawled. He remembered how it felt when he got into trouble and his ma made him sit for hours on a kitchen chair to fear the wrath of his father. When the boozehound finally dragged himself home, Evan would have to tell his pa about it and then take his beating like a man.

Evan shook off the feeling and greeted his father.

Hank stood and extended his hand. “It's been a while,” he groaned. “I finally get to congratulate you on finishin' your college. You write any books yet?”

Pa's in worse shape than I've ever seen him
, Evan thought,
and he's stone-cold sober
. Evan shook his head. He always pictured—at this very moment—that he'd be telling his pa to go to hell.
But from the look in his eyes,
Evan thought,
he's already there.

Pa's attention shifted to Tara. “What in the hell did they do to you?” he asked rhetorically. He then shook his head in disappointment. Tara hardly noticed.

There wasn't much but small, meaningless talk for the rest of the afternoon. Ma and Pa were submerged in a coma of mourning, Tara was immersed in an even deeper coma and Evan's grief alternated between his grandmother's death and Carley's unforgivable transgressions. Half of him yearned for her hug, while the other half—the sensible half—wished he could just get her face out of his head. It was going to take time.

Tara was already in her room when Evan headed to reclaim his. Walking past his parents' bedroom, he glanced in and noticed the bent, rusty nail that stuck out of the wall behind Ma's dresser. His old friend was missing.
Pa's black belt has finally been retired
, he thought, remembering all those times Pa yelled for him to fetch the leather strap. Each time, that walk was like heading to the electric chair—only to get beat senseless with the belt once he handed it over.

Evan stepped into his bedroom and checked his cell phone for anything from Carley.
Nothing
.

Per Pa's orders, Grampa John was to be left alone for the day. “He's takin' it on the button,” Pa reported. Evan and Tara respected their father's wishes. The following day, however, they marched across the creek bridge to visit the man they adored.

As expected, Grampa John was rocking slowly in his chair with Three Speed by his side. Sawdust flew from his jackknife and a look of concentration was focused on his carving. He looked up, dropped the wood and stood. To Evan's dismay, he stood slower than usual. Spotting the little one, Grampa John dropped to one knee and spread his arms. “Well … come on then,” he told Lila.

She marched straight to him. It was odd—considering they'd never met—but Lila and Grampa John embraced, as if they'd missed each other for years. It was that secret pact kept between little children and older folks—like a shared truth that everyone of ages in between either forgot or didn't have time to remember. Children were yet to experience most things, while elderly folks dumped everything they didn't need from their minds and returned to an understanding of the world that only children saw. Grampa John and Lila hugged for a while.

Lila broke the embrace. “You my Grampy?”

Grampa John chuckled. “Nope. Your Grampy's that nice fella that lives across the bridge. I'm just your Grampa John.”

Lila nodded, but she was much too young to ever realize whom she'd just met. He wasn't
just
Grampa John. He was
the
Grampa John.

Evan was the next to approach. “I'm so sorry, Grampa John,” he said. “Grandma was an angel and heaven …”

The old man pulled him in for a bear hug. The combined smells of peppermint and Ben-Gay told Evan that he and Tara were really home. Although the hug didn't last long, his scent was still as comforting as a pacifier to a baby. “Your grandmother was the best woman I've ever known, the salt of the earth,” the old man said, “and wherever the good Lord chose to take her, then that's good enough for me. I'd never want to be nowhere else.” The old man let Evan go and grabbed Tara for a squeeze.

“Oh Grampa John, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she said, crying.

“
Temporary
loss, sweetheart,” he corrected her. “In my soul, I know me and your grandma will be together again soon. We have to. It wouldn't make no sense to share so much love between two people … every laugh, every kiss, every secret … only to lose it all to death. It can't be the end. There ain't no way.”

“I believe you,” she said.

Grampa John finished the hug and then reclaimed his seat. He picked up the carving and returned to his work. After a long, unusual silence, he quietly spoke on the growing price of grain and the latest trials of Three Speed. “And the weather's been a little screwy, too,” he claimed. “Just can't figure nothin' no more.” It was sad. For a man who rarely used two words when only one would do, Grampa John never wasted his breath on the weather—ever. He veered from any talk of Grandma. Worst of all, he never even noticed the pain in his grandchildren's faces.
He's in a terrible state,
Evan realized.
Losing a soul mate obviously does horrible things to a man.

At one point, Grampa John looked up from his carving. “Go ahead in and make yourselves at home,” he told them, nodding toward the front door. “There's some stew on the stove. It ain't your grandma's but it'll stick to your ribs, sure enough.”

Brokenhearted over the old man's terrible grief, Evan and Tara stepped into the house.

It was a bitterly cold Saturday morning when friends from far and wide came to pay their respects. Everyone who knew Alice adored her and equally loved her grieving husband. The McCarthy's tiny field of granite was filled with mourners. As the preacher spoke, an eerie silence filled the frozen air.

“The Lord blessed each of our lives with the gift of knowing and loving Alice. Now He has taken her home to be with Him. Those who remember her, who loved her, walk with heavy hearts today, but we must also remember that Alice has been freed from the heavy chains of this world. She now walks with the Lord and shall dwell peacefully within His house for all eternity. Until the day we meet again …”

The preacher's kind words were carried on the icy wind and John listened carefully to each one. Amid them, a thousand memories reminded him of why he felt such loss. A thousand more reminded him of the void that now filled the desolate chambers of his heart. He stood rigid, conscious not to sway, and nearly snickered when the pastor mentioned “forgiveness.”

While John fought back the tears that burned to be free, the preacher's drone drifted and became distant. John tried comforting himself with his own thoughts, but the ache in his heart was worse than anything he'd ever imagined.
I'm nothin' without Alice by my side
, he thought, and the pain made him want to join her.

The preacher continued to talk above the sniffles. John glanced down at the scarred earth where friends had dug the hole. Beside his parents, Alice's pine casket was about to be committed. A roll of old burlap covered the hole, while a mound of dirt mixed with snow sat behind them. Interrupting his own prayer, John questioned the Lord.
Why ain't there another hole dug beside her, Father? It don't make no sense. It ain't natural for Alice to be layin' here alone.

John understood the cycles of life and had always been as comfortable with death as he was with life, but putting Alice in the ground alone was a tough one.
I got no purpose walkin' this earth without my wife matchin' every step. God, how I wish I was layin' right there beside her in our eternal bed.
He became entranced in the fantasy.

Shoulder to shoulder, Hank, Elle, Evan and Tara stood across the casket from the old man. In his most difficult hour, Grampa John needed to stand alone and they respected him for it.

Elle rubbed Hank's back, comforting her husband and ignoring her own pain. She loved Alice too. In fact, for years she loved her like her own mother. Then, when the illness took hold and caused the kind woman to live more in the past than the present, Elle loved her like one of her own children. Either way, the depth of the love never changed. At the end, though—just before Alice passed on—Elle prayed for closure. Realizing the harshness of such hopes, she wanted an end to everyone's suffering once and for all. It had nothing to do with loving her mother-in-law any less. It had to do with peace. Mercifully, the Lord finally answered her prayers.