The Secret to Hummingbird Cake (25 page)

Those last five days had a different effect on Mitch. I had walked him to his car when he left this morning and held him while he cried—deep, gut-wrenching sobs that echoed the anguish in his heart. He would apologize to me for a while, and then thank me for a while.

My heart had ached for him all day. What a terrible situation
this was for him. Trapped in a loveless marriage, trying to do the right thing, and when he finally became free, he found the love of his life dying. He was just as hurt as Ella Rae and I were, perhaps even more so. His pain was laced with regret and guilt. He begged me to persuade Laine to let him stay. I told him I would try, but I knew it was futile. Laine had made up her mind, and as we'd all learned in the last few months, when she decided on a course, she didn't change it.

Jack was right. I was tired, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Still, sleep wouldn't come. I laid my head on the cool leather of the recliner and watched Laine sleep. I thought about grammar school and how Ella Rae was forever beating the crap out of somebody who picked on Laine because she was clumsy and wore glasses. I thought about junior high and high school, our first real dates, which we'd all gone on together. I thought about summer camps, football games, bike rides, shopping trips, and proms. I almost laughed out loud remembering the weekend Jack and I got married and Laine had spent the entire three days in a panic because she was worried about the fallout. I thought about the nights, not so long ago, we'd ride around all night long listening to music.

Laine would preach the whole night about how pointless it was to ride around while we could sit in a house and listen to a new CD. It was safer, she argued. It was boring, we said. She'd roll her eyes and complain, tell us we were killing her, she never got any rest, and she wanted to go home. She reminded us she was the only one with a real job and she needed real sleep. But bamboo under her fingernails couldn't
have made her exit that vehicle with us still in it. The girl wouldn't step on a spider but would fight a grizzly bear for me and Ella Rae . . .

I must've fallen asleep at some point because I woke with a start, as if something had jerked me awake. I glanced at the clock. It was two twelve a.m. Ella Rae was asleep, still holding Laine's hand. Jack was asleep beside me. In fact, the only sound at all was the hum of Laine's oxygen . . . and the grandfather clock. I looked at Laine. She was awake and smiling at me, very slightly, but she was smiling. She stared into my eyes so intently I realized she must've willed me awake.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Do you need anything?”

She didn't nod or answer, she just kept looking at me with that faint, faraway smile. I laid my head back down and stayed locked in her gaze. When I think back on that moment, I am sure I saw a multitude of emotions in her eyes, peace, gratitude, love, even joy. Then she took a deep breath, exhaled, and didn't breathe again. I stared at her chest, waiting for the rise and fall that never came. And just like that, she was gone. I looked at her in awe of what I'd just witnessed. She had slipped out of this world and into the next without crash carts, without bells and whistles, and without white coats. Just like she'd wanted. Just like she'd planned all along.

Even as hot tears poured silently down my face, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I held her hand against my cheek for a minute or maybe an hour, I don't know. I never wanted to move from that chair. As long as Laine was in this bed, we could still see her, talk to her, touch her, even if she
were dying. But I knew when I woke the others her life would truly be over.

I wanted it to be our secret. I whispered, “I love you” over and over again during that treasured time I shared with her. Finally I realized that her spirit was gone. The angels had taken her home. I felt it as sure as I could feel the sun on my face or the wind in my hair. Laine wasn't here any more. She'd slipped away from us as quiet as a whisper. Reluctantly, I laid her hand gently across her chest and sat up.

My voice was shaky when I finally spoke. “Ella Rae, you need to wake up.”

She bolted upright in her chair, Laine's hand still tucked in her own. She knew as soon as she looked at me. She still hadn't looked at Laine, but she knew it just the same. She began to cry. “I wasn't ready,” she said. “I wasn't ready yet.”

Jack stood up and pulled me close to him. “I'm so sorry.” He kissed the top of my head.

I nodded against his chest, my tears still falling. I wasn't frantic, as I had imagined I would be when this moment came. I could still feel the peace that had wrapped itself around me earlier, even more so now that she was gone.

She hadn't struggled or fought or resisted. She just . . . didn't breathe again. Relief washed over me. I welcomed the feeling. I had been amazed by her life and was now amazed by her death.

I glanced at Ella Rae. “Please get Tommy, Jack,” I said.

Ella Rae was struggling. I moved out of Jack's arms and held her close to me. She was inconsolable. “I knew she was going to die, but I wasn't ready. I didn't want her to die.”

Ella Rae laid her head on Laine's chest and sobbed. I placed my hand on her back, helpless to do much else, and let her cry. Sweet Rae. Ready to defend either of us at the drop of a hat, a tiny little thing that would take on anybody who threatened Laine or me. But if she loved you, she was gentle as a lamb.

Tommy came in quickly and took Ella Rae into his arms. “It's okay, baby,” he soothed. “It's gonna be okay.”

“I wasn't ready,” she said again and again. “I didn't want her to die.”

Tommy, in his Southern boy logic that I had always loved and admired, told her, “It don't matter what you wanted, baby, this world didn't want her any more. Shhh . . . baby, it's gonna be okay.”

Debra came in and removed the oxygen from Laine's nose and gently took the IV from her hand. She folded Laine's hands in her lap and started to pull the sheet over her.

“Wait,” I said. “Please, can you just not do that yet?”

Debra stepped away from the bed. “Of course,” she said and turned to leave the room. When she got to the doorway, she stopped and looked at us. “I have had the privilege of working with many families,” she said, “but I have never seen so much love and support from people who weren't blood relatives. It's been an honor, and I am so sorry for your loss. She was a treasure.” She closed the door gently behind her.

Jack leaned over the bed and kissed Laine on her forehead. “Good-bye, sweet girl.” He blinked back tears and patted her hand.

Watching that broke my heart. I knew how much he loved
her and respected her. She had adored him. And she had believed in us. Always.

Ella Rae had calmed down somewhat and I put my arms around her. I knew a multitude of people loved Laine. But nobody else felt exactly the same way I did except Ella Rae. We held each other for a long time and cried without saying a word. Then we stood by Laine's bedside for the last time.

Finally I pulled her away. “Come on, Rae, we have a celebration to plan.”

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

The funeral director ushered us into the viewing room and then left us to view Laine's body alone.

“What?”

“Oh . . . my . . .” Ella Rae said.

“She looks like a hooker!” I said, as shocked as I'd been in my life.

“Oh . . . my . . .” Ella Rae shouted this time before I put my hand over her mouth.

“Shut up, Rae, he's gonna hear you!” I scolded her.

“He NEEDS to hear me,” she said. “Who's the makeup artist around here? The bouncer at Sugar & Spice? That is
ho
red lipstick.”

“Keep your voice down and give me something,” I said.

“Like what?” Ella Rae asked. “A washtub and some bleach?”

“Help me, Ella Rae,” I said. “Just reach in your suit purse and get me something! Mrs. Jeannette and Michael will be here any minute!”

She pulled out a toothbrush.

“Really?” I asked.

She dug some more and came up with makeup remover wipes.

“Thank God!” I said and began scrubbing Laine's lips. “Help me.”

She wiped at the bright-blue eye shadow. “What is this stuff, all-weather stain?” Ella Rae asked.

“This is awful,” I said.

“I need paint thinner!” Ella Rae said. “I'm gonna have to put my foot against her chest. I need traction.”

“Don't you dare!” I said and methodically rubbed back and forth across Laine's painted lips.

“This is spray paint,” Ella Rae said. “It has to be. It won't budge. I can't rub any harder, Carri. I'll make her bleed.”

I stopped scrubbing and looked at her. “Are you serious?”

“I'm 'bout to break her skin,” she said. “I can't rub any harder.”

“Um, Ella Rae, you can't make her bleed. She's . . . dead.”

“Well, that doesn't mean she won't bleed, does it?” she asked.

“Her heart isn't pumping,” I said.

“So?” Ella Rae said.

“You know you are responsible for the blonde joke movement, don't you?” I began scrubbing again, this time making progress.

“Whatever,” she said.

“There,” I said, effectively removing the red paint. I
reached into my purse and pulled out my coral lipstick and carefully applied it to Laine's lips. Carefully, until Ella Rae's elbow bumped my hand and I dropped it. It left a thin coral line down the front of Laine's pale-pink dress.

“Ella Rae!” I said.

“Ella Rae?” she said. “You're the one who dropped it!”

“Give me something,” I said.

She pulled out a laundry stick.

I paused and looked at her. “Where do you get all this crap?” I asked.

“Well . . . I got that at Wal-Mart, if you must know. What's so wrong with having a laundry stick in your purse?” she asked.

“Nothing's
wrong
with it,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders. “It's just if I asked you for two bricks and a water hose, you'd pull it out of your purse. It's strange, that's all.”

She put a hand on her hip. “At least I don't put maxi pads on my tatas.”

“They are NOT . . .,” I started but realized this nonsense would rage on for hours if I allowed it to. “Never mind, just help me. Please!”

Finally we got the stain out of her dress, a subtle light-brown shadow on her lids, and her lips covered in coral. She looked like Laine again. But now . . . we really looked at her.

She looked peaceful, I could agree with that. But this mahogany box with its ornate handles and satin pillow held the truth inside it. Our friend wasn't asleep, and she wasn't going to sit up and tell us to stop bickering. She was gone. Forever gone. She wasn't coming back. It was over.

I clasped Ella Rae's hand in mine. She had begun to cry, of course, but my tears had dried up. Just when I needed them most. I stared at the dressed-up shell before me, all that was left of a once beautiful girl with green eyes and rich, chocolate-brown hair. So this was where it ended. In a wooden box, in a dreary room haunted with thousands of tears from others who had stood where I was standing now. At that moment, I felt as dead as she was.

Laine had been adamant about closing her casket. She only wanted four people to see her in this coffin: Ella Rae, Mrs. Jeannette, Michael, and me. She'd barely agreed to that because she knew we'd need to see her, to tell her good-bye. She wanted people to remember her like she'd been, not “all dressed up and sleeping in a box.” When the lid closed on this casket, it wouldn't be opened again.

I had been calm since she'd passed. Serene, almost. I was still in awe about watching her leave this world, how gentle it had been, how comforting it had been. But now, looking at her, it became too real. A slight panic or at least a heightened awareness had started to sink in. My emotional paralysis was waning. Laine
died
. She
died
. There would be a wake, then a funeral, and we would
bury
her. Then we'd all go home, but Laine would stay at the cemetery.

And somewhere in the midst of all of that, I had to stand up in church, in front of everybody I knew, and explain to them who Laine Elizabeth Landry was. I didn't mind speaking in front of people, but I was horrified at summing up Laine's life in twenty minutes or less. How could I ever make
these people understand? I had lived who she was. Ella Rae had lived who she was. I couldn't do her life justice by telling someone about it. For weeks I had attempted to put something on paper for this occasion. But nothing ever sounded right, and it still didn't. So the day before I was to deliver her eulogy, I still had no idea what I was going to say.

“Mrs. Jeannette and Michael are here,” Ella Rae whispered.

I leaned over and kissed Laine's cheek, told her I loved her, and squeezed her cold hand.

“You'll always be with us,” Ella Rae said to her. “Always.”

We walked away and met Mrs. Jeannette and Michael at the entrance of the room.

“Does my baby look pretty?” Mrs. Jeannette's voice sounded broken and small.

“She does.”

She hugged Ella Rae and me tightly. “I will never be able to thank you girls enough for what you did,” she said. “And, Carrigan, Jack and the Whitfields . . . How can I ever repay . . .”

“There's no need for that,” I told her. “They wanted to do it, and Laine would have done it for any of us. You know that.”

She shook her head. “They just went above and beyond, and I am eternally grateful.”

“They loved her.” I glanced back at the coffin. “Everybody did.”

“Yes, they did.”

“Take your time here,” I told her. “We'll see you at the church.”

Ella Rae and I hugged Michael and left the room so they could be alone with Laine.