The Secret to Hummingbird Cake (29 page)

“We told her everything,” I said. “I promise you we did.”

She stood up and smoothed her dress. “Let's go,” she said. “I'm ready now.”

I took the hand she extended and got up off the floor. “I'm ready too.”

Mrs. Jeannette asked Ella Rae and me to sit on the front pew with the family. “You girls were her sisters,” she said. “Where else would you be?” Jack, Mitch, and Tommy were on the pew behind us. Jack leaned up right before the service began and gave me a hug. “You'll do her proud, Carri. You always have.” I hoped he was right. I had finally come up with what I wanted to say in the eulogy, then completely changed my mind. Twice. I hoped I could convey what was in my heart.

As soon as the music began, Ella Rae began to cry. I tried to think about something else, anything else. I didn't want to start the waterworks before I had to speak. I thought about
Elle. I thought about football. I thought about frog hunting. Nothing worked. I dabbed at my tears with a dainty hankie that had belonged to Laine.

“Friends, family, and loved ones, we are here to celebrate the life of Laine Elizabeth Landry,” Reverend Martin said. “Let us open with a word of prayer.”

I stared at my shoes while Reverend Martin prayed. I stared at their heels, the way they were made, the way the straps looked, the point of the toes. I did everything I could to avoid listening short of putting my fingers in my ears. I finally heard him say, “Amen” and I looked up again. It was going to be a long hour or so.

“Laine came to see me last year, a few weeks after she'd been released from the hospital. She wanted to write the opening remarks for her funeral and asked me if I could help her with that. While this may seem a bit unorthodox to some, I intend to follow her wishes.”

I glanced over at Ella Rae, and she shrugged slightly. Laine continued to surprise us.

Reverend Martin began to read. “My name was Laine Elizabeth Landry. I was a daughter and a friend and a teacher and an aunt. Those were the most important things in my life and the things I hope to be remembered for. I am survived by the most wonderful mother a girl could ask for, Jeannette Landry, who gave me a treasured childhood and wings to fly when it was over. I love you, Mama. I had one brother, Michael, whose strength I always relied on and envied. I love you, Mike; you and Belinda take care of my nieces. I had two
sisters, Carrigan Whitfield and Ella Rae Weeks, who were, indeed, my sisters in every sense of the word. They showed me what unconditional love was time and time again. I am also survived by four nieces and a niece by proxy. It's a beautiful world, girls, but it's a tough world too. Ask for help when you need to, be good to your parents, and find true friends who will love you through it all. Remember, it isn't always blood that makes a family. I asked Michelle Lange to sing this song for all of you, my family. I loved you all very much. Thank you for everything. And don't worry . . . I will save you all a seat.”

Ella Rae was openly sobbing by now. So were Mrs. Jeannette, Michael, and most everyone in the church. I was hanging on by a thread. I was pretty sure I would make it without dissolving into a puddle. But then the music started. I recognized the chords immediately, and so did Ella Rae. She buried her face in my shoulder, and I put my arm around her as Michelle began to sing a song we'd loved since junior high. It was a ballad about life and love and loss and fit the occasion perfectly.

Laine had known all along what music would be played today, what would be said today. She had only pretended to make us plan her funeral so we'd get used to the idea of having one. And stop being so frightened by the word. All this time, I thought I was the sly one of our trio, and it turned out to be Laine. She'd punked us. I wanted to laugh, but my tears were falling too fast, so I put my head against Ella Rae's and cried instead. The music finally ended and Reverend Martin stepped back to the podium. He began speaking of
heaven and how Laine was there, healthy again, whole again, visiting with her daddy and other loved ones who had gone before her. He spoke of green valleys and golden streets, of mansions and angels. I heard bits and pieces, ignoring what I could and feeling much like I had in Doctor Rougeau's office the day this nightmare had first begun. I didn't want to hear anything about heaven, especially the part where Laine was there now. Heaven was no comfort to me. Laine was gone and God took her. I was going to need a signed letter from him to explain this.

The sound of my name jerked me back into the world. Reverend Martin had just announced I would deliver the eulogy. I squeezed Ella Rae's hand and walked to the podium on automatic pilot. I still had no idea what would come out of my mouth.

I looked around at the packed house, then at Jack and Ella Rae. Then from somewhere inside, I found my voice. “When Laine asked me to do this, my first reaction was to tell her ‘No, I can't and I won't.' But she wore me down. I knew there was no possible way for me to tell you who Laine Landry was. I knew I could never make anyone understand what we had
all
lost.

“Then, in the last two days—no, really in the last few months—I realized I didn't have to tell you who she was and what we lost, because you all told us. It was obvious in the visits to the Farm by her students, past and present. It was obvious by the flowers that arrived continuously. It was obvious in the phone calls and the cards and the food and the
words you shared with us . . . especially in the last few days. You told us things about her that we never knew. The lives she touched weren't exclusive to Ella Rae and me, although we probably thought they were.”

I looked at Ella Rae, my sweet friend, still crying but smiling now too. “We lived in our bubble . . . and we really, really loved our bubble. But she lived out here . . . with all of you. So I want to say thank you. Thank you for sharing those things with us that we never knew anything about. Thank you for loving our friend. And thank you for allowing her to love you, because she really did.”

I paused for a second, trying to decide which direction I should take. “I suppose my real job is to stand here and tell you some crazy stories about Laine, but I probably can't without incriminating Ella Rae and myself.” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.

“So I'm just going to tell you the truth, and the truth is . . . my heart hurts. It hurts for myself and for Ella Rae and for Laine's family. I want my friend back. I want to see her walk across the street to my house and keep score at a ball game and ride her bike and play with my baby. And it kills me to think my daughter will never know this wonderful, beautiful soul who watched her come into this world. She was wise beyond her years and a true and trusted friend. Poppa Jack once said to me, ‘Laine is a fighter in her own way.' I thought he was crazy, because I only knew her to be just the opposite, kind and calm and gentle. But I have come to realize he was right. She was a fighter. She fought me, all the time. She fought
for
me all the time. She fought for Ella Rae and for her students and anywhere she saw injustice. And she fought cancer too. She rose above all it stripped her of, and she won that battle. Because it may have taken her body, and it may have taken her from us, but it never took her spirit, and it will never take her memory.”

I stepped down from the podium and kissed Laine's coffin for the last time. I managed to make it back to Ella Rae's arms before the dam broke.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

I gathered the shawl closer around Elle's shoulders and pointed at her daddy turning into the driveway.

“Who's that?” I asked her as she spotted Jack's truck.

She began flailing her little arms and legs as she recognized him. It was her normal reaction whenever she saw him. She was only seven months old, but she was very bright, even if I do have to say so myself.

Jack was wearing a huge grin as he stepped out of the truck, which was his normal reaction when he saw Elle. I was surprised he didn't flail his arms and legs as well. He took the steps two at a time, planted a quick kiss on my lips, and scooped Elle out of my arms. She immediately began patting his face with her hands.

“What did my two favorite girls do today while Daddy was at work?”

She responded by placing both her hands in his mouth and squealing.

I shook my head and smiled. Elle was becoming a poster child for a daddy's girl.

We'd been back in our own house for months now, since the week after Laine died. I hated to leave the Farm, but we needed to be back in our own places and back in the real world. Our protective bubble was no more. Laine's passing had forced us all to step back into reality and leave our magical realm where each moment was full of laughter and love.

Those days had often contradicted the impending doom that lay ahead. Even though we had all clung to a desperate hope for a miracle that never came, they remained some of the most treasured times of my life. Those days had also changed me. No, change was not a large enough word. This last year had transformed me. Every moment of every day was no longer about me and my wants and needs. I never realized how selfish I was until the year Laine was dying. Oh, I would do anything for Laine or Ella Rae, even before then. But I always examined every angle of a situation to assess what I could get out of it. What was in it for me? My thought process had certainly changed the past year. For the first time in my life, I felt like a grown-up.

I looked at Jack and Elle and felt the familiar tug on my heart. I loved them both so much. I wondered for the millionth time how I had ever entertained the thought of leaving Jack. Laine had told me time after time after time how much Jack loved me. I know now that it was because she recognized what loving someone from afar looked like. She was, in many ways, the wisest person I had ever known. I had been too full
of pride and arrogance to see my husband was hurting. All I knew was he wasn't paying attention to me. Laine always knew it wasn't another woman. Laine . . .

“You coming inside, Mommy?” Jack asked. “It's getting cool out here.”

“In a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure, baby.” He kissed me again. “Take your time.” He took Elle inside and left me in the porch swing.

Sweet Jack. He'd been so good to me since Laine died. We didn't talk too much about the Lexi drama. I had asked a few questions, but a very few. He answered them truthfully and thoroughly, and I was satisfied. He never asked me anything about Romeo, although I had assured him I would tell him whatever he wanted to know. Mostly we felt an abundance of gratitude. Things could've turned out so much different. Laine and Mitch taught us that.

Jack was unbelievably patient when I ranted and raved about God and his logic. He was always attentive and understanding when I got in these occasional blue moods, like the one I was in today. I think the general consensus was that I needed to take a little something like Prozac until I could get past the first few months. But I knew it wasn't depression. It wasn't even sadness. I knew Laine was happy where she was and that part didn't sadden me at all. It was more like I was on a quest for an answer. Why did Laine die? What possible good could come from it? Would I ever make peace with it? I needed resolution. I needed it to make sense. But the more I groped for an answer, the more the answer eluded me. So frustrating.

I gazed across the street at her house and pictured her in the yard, spraying a speck of dirt off her bike, watering flowers, waving to me. I still had a hard time imagining anyone there but her. Mrs. Jeannette had mentioned putting Laine's house on the market a few weeks ago, and I had become so frantic that Jack bought it. He walked in one evening after work, gave me a kiss, and handed me the deed. The relief had been tremendous, and I had thanked him constantly for days. I still had no idea what we'd do with it, but for now, just owning it was enough.

Ella Rae and I sometimes walked over and sat in the empty living room. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was certainly an emotional thing. I don't think a day had passed since Laine died that Ella Rae didn't sob at least once. I fretted and paced and the questions continued to hound me, but I didn't cry. In fact, I hadn't cried since the day of the funeral.

I laid my head on the pillow of the porch swing. I still went about my life. I loved my baby and my husband and I put one foot in front of the other. I did what I was supposed to do. Yet when people offered condolences, I could hardly stand it.

Especially the ones who said, “Some things just can't be explained,” or “God's timing is perfect.” What the hell did that even mean? I knew they meant well, but in reality I wanted to slap them all. Why say anything to me at all if you're only going to frustrate me more? Of course, that was wrong too. They were just trying to help.

I supposed this was just what happened when you were
grieving. The mood swings, I mean. Some days, every memory was funny and heartwarming and comforting. Other days, like today, I was mad and discouraged and confused and the memories I clung to were unclear and unfocused. I was horrified that one day they would fade altogether. On days like today, her absence enveloped my world and all that was in it. I hated these days. They usually began with me telling God about all the people in the world who didn't deserve to take another breath. Pedophiles, serial killers, and people who were mean to animals still walked around laughing and talking and living, yet he took Laine? It made no sense to me. Where was the logic in that? If I lived to be one hundred, I would never understand it and God still wasn't talking. I started to wonder if he was even there at all. I needed an explanation, something tangible to make her death reasonable. I needed somebody to say to me, “Laine died so global warming would subside,” or “Laine died so there would be peace in the Middle East,” or even, “Laine died so teenagers would no longer suffer from acne.”