The Secret to Hummingbird Cake (28 page)

“Stop.” He gathered me into his arms. “I already know. I've known for a long time.”

I was stunned. I stared at him, trying to make sure we were on the same page, and I knew from the look on his face, we were. He had known all along. Of course he did. Jack always knew everything.

“I pushed you into his arms.” Jack's face twisted in pain. “I should have told you from the start what had happened. It's not your fault. Stop punishing yourself.”

I threw my arms around his neck and cried. “I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry.”

He pushed me away from him and put his hands on either side of my face. “I love you,” he said. “I've never loved anyone but you. I didn't tell you I knew about him for you to be ashamed. I told you so everything would be on the table. And now it is. I watched a man I barely know cry last night, and I listened to him spill his guts because he'll never get a chance to fix his mistakes. But we can fix ours. And that's all they were . . . mistakes. We got a second chance here. Not everybody does.”

I clung to his words. He was right. We got a second chance. I wondered how many people, including Laine and Mitch Montgomery, never would.

“We will talk about it more,” Jack said. “I will tell you every detail, everything you want to know. But for now, I needed to tell you the bulk of it. Do you want to talk to Lexi tonight?”

“No,” I said. I didn't exactly feel a vast amount of generosity for her, but maybe something akin to compassion began to stir inside me. I thought about my sweet baby Elle, how much joy and happiness she'd brought me. Then I thought about Lexi's stillborn baby, how sad and apologetic she had been last night, her addiction, and how . . . worn . . . she had looked. Lexi was living in her own private hell. There was no need for me to help her move in.

“I'm so sorry I lost my faith in you,” he said. “If I'd told you . . .”

“It was not your fault. I know how I am, how I was . . .” I hesitated. “And let me say this and we won't have to talk about it any more today or tomorrow or until we want to. I never wanted out of this marriage. Maybe I was just bored that day when I said something about it. And honestly, maybe I should've played softball in college. I have thought about it, but it didn't mean I didn't want to stay married. And the baby thing . . . I never knew how much I wanted her until I held her in my arms. Does anybody? You didn't steal my youth or keep me from anything. You gave me the world. You gave me everything. If I had it to do all over again, I would still marry you. At age seventeen.” I grabbed his hand and held it against
my face. “And him . . . I am so sorry, so sorry. He meant nothing to me. I swear.” I felt fresh tears sting my eyes. “Nothing.”

“I know,” he said. “It tore me up when I found out. But I thought maybe it was the best thing for you. He was your age, played on your circuit. I thought you could find happiness with him. I was a fool.”

“I never wanted another man and I never will.”

We sat in the car and held each other for a long time. I felt a lightness around me that morning that I hadn't felt in a very long time. I hadn't realized what a heavy burden it was to carry guilt around—until it wasn't there any more. Yes, there was more to say, but for us, there was time to say it. Thank God, there was time to say it.

Jack pressed his mouth against my ear. “Let's go see our daughter.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

As we got to the Farm I saw my mother's car, and I knew my baby was inside. I took the steps two at a time, even in my unfamiliar heels.

Mama was holding Elle and Mrs. Diane was showing her a new rag doll. I rushed straight to them.

“Hi, my baby!” I said and took her from my mother. Elle felt so warm and smelled so good. Just having her in my arms was like tonic for my soul. I held her little body against me. I closed my eyes and drank her in, her coos, her nuzzles, her soft baby skin that smelled like lotion and everything in the world that was sweet. Just seeing her made the world seem
right again. I didn't even realize I was crying until my mother reached over and wiped a tear away.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I don't even know where these tears come from any more. You know I'm not much of a crier, at least I never was one before.”

“You've never lost Laine before,” my mother said. “It hurts.”

“How long will it feel like this?” I was crying indeed now and gave Elle to Mrs. Diane. I didn't want to hold her and sob.

“Sweetheart, there's no time limit on grief,” Mama told me. “It would be nice if it had an expiration date, but it doesn't. There are many days I want to pick up the phone and call your grandmother, and she's been gone for years.”

I could remember times my mother had said, “I wish I could talk to Mama today,” then go on about her day. She still grieved my grandparents. I had been crushed when Papaw died and then again a few years later when Mamaw passed. But Laine was young and that made it different. I had operated under the assumption my grief was greater because Laine still had things to do in her life. But it wasn't true. Perhaps Laine's age made it more tragic, but my grief was no greater than my mother's. It wasn't a person's age that made death sad. It was the size of absence it caused in the ones left behind.

My mother and my grandmother were together every day. Mama felt her absence more than the rest of us did, the way Ella Rae and I would feel Laine's.

I suddenly felt sorry for my mother and hugged her tight. “I'm so sorry about Mamaw.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, “it's all right. All these things you feel are normal. That's the bad thing about grieving anyone or anything. You have to go through it, not around it.”

I cried in my mother's arms and was still amazed how her voice could soothe me. No wonder she missed my grandmother so much.

“Carrigan,” Mrs. Diane said, “I hate to ask right now, but it's mealtime for Elle. Do you want me to give her a bottle, or would you rather do it?”

“No,” I said. “I want to nurse her. I want to hold her before I have to get ready to . . . go back.”

She gave Elle to me, and I took her into the nursery where we could be alone. I had missed my baby so much. Jack came into the nursery and sat on the daybed.

“Is she hungry?”

“She's starving!” I said. “Like a little pig.”

He watched as I nursed our daughter for a few minutes. “Are we good, Carrigan?”

“We're better than good,” I said. “We're the best we've ever been.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE

The church was already near capacity when Jack and I arrived at noon. After last night's testaments, I don't know why that surprised me. I had thought I'd be back soon enough that Ella Rae and I could spend a few minutes alone with Laine . . . for the last time. But Ella Rae wasn't even back yet.

Jack and I made our way through the back entrance of the church and I headed straight to Laine's casket. Strange as it sounds, it made me feel better to stand next to it, to keep my hand on it. I sighed and rubbed the cool mahogany with my hands. It was so smooth. I wanted to make Creepy Guy open the coffin, just to look at her again, but I knew that was out of the question. I briefly toyed with the idea of popping the top myself. Laine would probably sit up and slap me. I bent down and put my face against the cool wood.

“I'm back,” I whispered. “Rae's on her way.”

The mahogany felt so good against my face. I stayed in that position and talked to Laine. I wasn't crying and I wasn't upset.
I just wanted to talk to her. I told her that everything between Jack and me was going to be okay. I told her about how sweet Elle had been that morning and how I wished she'd been there to see her. I told her how upset Mitch had been last night and to send him some comfort if she found a way. I stroked the mahogany with my hand and whispered all the things I wanted her to know. Jack was standing near talking to someone I couldn't see. His hand was on my waist, but his attention was on his companion. I could've stayed there all day, having a sweet, private, last conversation with my girl. I felt Jack move his hand away, and presently Ella Rae appeared. She put her head down on the casket too and draped an arm around my shoulder.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just talking to Laine.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

“I thought you were crying.”

“Why?”

“Because you're laid out over this coffin. Duh,” Ella Rae said.

“I was just talking to her and the wood felt good against my face.”

“It's a bunch of people who think you are crying,” she said. “I thought you were crying, and now I bet they think we're both crying.”

It never occurred to me people would wonder what I was doing.

“This wood does feel good,” Ella Rae observed and began stroking the top of the coffin with her free hand. “It's very cool to the touch.”

I made a face. “It's very cool to the touch?” I asked. “I have never heard you say anything like that in your life.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“There's nothing wrong with it,” I said. “You just don't speak like that. She speaks like that.”

Ella Rae rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, people think you are upset.”

“I'm not upset.”

“About anything?”

“Well, other than Laine being dead and all,” I said. “Maybe we should get up now.”

We started to move, but she stopped me. “Wait.”

“What is it now?” I asked.

“Do you think we should . . . cry?” she said. “I mean, should we be upset? We can't just act like we were taking a nap.”

“I can't cry right now. I'm not upset,” I said.

“Let's just stay like this until the funeral is over,” she said.

“Perfect,” I said. “We can ride the coffin out of here like a mechanical bull.”

“Yes,” Ella Rae said, “and the band can play something out of
Urban Cowboy
.”

“It's a choir, not a band, barhopper,” I said. “This is called a church.”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “I knew I made the wrong turn.”

Call it ridiculous, call it childish or irreverent, but we began to laugh. Really laugh. And it felt good. Looking back, I'm sure it was because of anxiety, nerves, or sheer mental and physical exhaustion, but there was no stopping it.

Within a minute or two the giggles took over completely. “Creepy Guy would try to move us,” I said.

“Oh, I am sure,” Rae said. “He would appear out of nowhere, just like a vampire, swoop down, and catch us both around the neck. Then he'd say, ‘Hey baby, how 'bout a little formaldehyde on the rocks at my place?' ”

My entire body shook with laughter. “Stop!” I said. “Stop it now.”

“Ladies.” Jack appeared behind us with an arm around us both. “I don't know what's going on, but most everyone in this church has become distraught watching the two of you. Now . . . I know you're laughing . . .”

“What gave us away, Jack?” Ella Rae said. “It was her, wasn't it? She's so uncool in these situations!”

“These situations?” I said. “When's the last time you laid on a casket, Rae?”

“I was in Caskets R Us just yesterday, smarty pants,” she said. “I'm their new spokesperson. I laid on every casket in the house. I personally like the newer models because—”

“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “Here's what we're about to do. I'm going to stand up with my arms around both of you, and you two are going to put your heads as deep into my chest as you can get them, and we'll walk out the back. Got it?”

“Did you wear deodorant?” Ella Rae asked.

“What the hell is wrong with y'all?” he asked. “Now behave and hold on.”

We walked out the back with our heads buried in Jack's suit jacket until he pushed us into the ladies' room. Thankfully, no one else was in it, because he came in too.

“What was that?” he demanded when we were safely behind the locked door.

Ella Rae sat down on the toilet and laughed so hard she had to hold on to the wall. I sat on the floor and held my sides, shaking all over.

Jack shook his head. “The only sane one in the bunch is gone.”

That was the funniest line of the day. We were nearly screaming with laughter now.

“Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies,” Ella Rae began to chant. That had been Laine's favorite mantra when she'd contracted the inappropriate giggles.

“And I don't want to know what that means,” Jack said. “For God's sake, try to get it together in the next five minutes.” He closed the door behind him.

After the laughter finally subsided, Ella Rae looked at me and smiled. “I can't tell you how much I needed that.”

I shook my head. “I know, me too. And, girl . . . do I have a story for you.”

“Tell!” she said.

“Not today,” I said. “Today belongs to Laine.”

“This funeral is gonna suck, Carrigan,” she said. “I wish we could skip over it, and then again, I want it to last for three days.”

“Me too.”

“I wish we could go back and do every bit of it again.”

“Even the crappy parts,” I said, “and even if I knew it would end all over again just like this.”

“We didn't let her leave here without . . . without . . .,” Ella Rae said.

“We left nothing unspoken,” I said. “We turned over every stone. We shook every tree. We said it all.”

Ella Rae shook her head. “I know you are right. I just can't remember saying it all. I would think of things I wanted to tell her when I was in bed at night, and then I couldn't remember what they were the next day.”