Ripples Through Time (22 page)

“I’m not,” Jason said. He sipped his water. “Not personally.
But when I went back for my degree in behavioral sciences child development was
part of the curriculum. So yes, I suppose I am something of an expert.”

“You know how you might know something but not really
know
—”

“Really? Are we going to do this
here
? Now?” Jason
breathed, a touch of anger in his tone.

“No,” Richard agreed, letting out a deep breath and closing
his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t remember a time when we didn’t fight,” Jason said. “Growing
up or after. It’s the only relationship we really had.”

“It’s mostly my fault,” Richard said. “I like to argue. I
have to be right.”

“Probably why you went into law,” Jason said.

Richard chuckled. “No ‘probably’ about it. That’s definitely
why.”

“I’m to blame too,” Jason said, setting his water on a
nearby table and folding his arms across his chest. “How’s the firm?”

“Good,” Richard said. “We absorbed another dozen clients in
the last two months. I’ve been swamped.”

“I’m sure. Too swamped to call?”

“Nothing to call about,” Richard replied. “How’s the
uh…clinic? He wracked his brain and fell short on the clinic’s name. Something
about ‘second chances’, he was sure.

“Doing really well. State funding gets cut yearly but we
have a lot of private donors and volunteers. If things go well with the summer
audit we might get the expansion grant. Then we can open another branch near
Montgomery Boulevard. That’s where it’s really needed.”

Richard nodded politely.

“And so our mother begins her last great journey,” Richard
said.

“Who’s to say it’s the last?” Jason asked.

“What?”

“We don’t know what comes after death, so why would it be
the ‘last great journey?’ Why not the
next
great journey?”

Richard narrowed his eyes, not sure if he was being mocked. “The
next great journey, then.”

“I know it’s only semantics,” Jason admitted. “But I can’t
help being contrary as well. Family trait.”

“That’s why I stayed away,” Richard said. “Bad blood.”

“No bad blood on my side,” Jason said, patting him on the
shoulder. “You are welcome to drop by whenever you like.”

Richard glanced over, deciding the conversation was over. Seats
were being set out for the eulogy, and the casket was free. He excused himself
from his brother—setting the water on a counter—and shouldered through the
crowd to his mother’s casket.

She was tiny and frail, considerably more than he would have
guessed, with wrinkles covering her skin. The formaldehyde made her look like a
plastic doll. Her expression was relaxed, at peace. She could have been
sleeping, lying back on excessively plush white pillows with her arms folded
across her chest.

They’d chosen a reddish-pink overcoat and the pearl necklace
Calvin bought her some thirty years earlier. It was the only adornment she wore
on a regular basis, and hence the only thing traveling with her to the grave; a
good choice: she never was much for gaudy jewelry.

Richard felt someone come up alongside him. He glanced over.
Calvin stood there, face drawn. He looked old and frail. Tired. Nothing like
the powerful and terrifying man who raised him.

It is good to see her
, Richard decided. He was glad
she looked peaceful. From what he’d heard, her going had been hard and painful.
But that was over with and done. No sense making her suffer anymore. She was
with God now, at His side, and if Richard knew anything about his mother then
God would have his hands full for some time now.

“She’s at peace now,” Calvin said, putting a hand on
Richard’s shoulder. He squeezed gently. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Richard nodded but didn’t say anything.

He turned away from the casket and started walking toward
his family, who were taking seats near the back of the viewing room. Richard
expected Calvin to find a seat near the front, probably with Beth and her
family, but instead his scrawny old father kept pace with him.

“Hello Deborah,” Calvin said as they got close. She looked
up, surprised, and glanced from Richard to Calvin. Richard kept his face
impassive and held his annoyance in check.

“Hello,” Deborah said. “It’s good to see you Calvin. Our
hearts go out to you.”

“Thank you,” Calvin said with a nod. His mouth was moving
slowly, as if he were chewing gum.

“Kids, hug your grandfather,” Deborah said. Both kids stood
up and gently hugged the old man, using all the force of a historian unrolling
a piece of ancient papyrus. He gently squeezed them back, smiling, and then sat
down in the chair next to Deborah.

“Dad…” Richard said, irked. “Don’t you want to be closer to
the front? Closer to mom?”

“I’m fine here. With my family,” he said, looking straight
ahead.

“Your family is up there.”

“Posh,” he said, waving his hand as if swatting a fly. “I
see them all the time.”

With an annoyed sigh Richard sat in his chair, crossing his
right leg over his left and folding his arms. The pastor stood at the podium,
hands raised to the sky and a smile on his lips.

“Dad, are you sure you’ll be able to hear him from all the
way back here?” Richard asked, trying one more time.

“Heh,” Calvin said, chewing. “It’s all lies anyway.”

“What?”

“Everyone becomes a saint at their own funeral.”

“In this case it’s true. She was a good woman,” Deborah
offered.

Calvin nodded and then shrugged. “Nothing they say here
today could change that. It is what it is, and I don’t need a pastor telling me
otherwise.”

“Shh…” a few people hissed.

“Oh shh yourselves,” Calvin said to them. “It’s
my
damn wife!”

Deborah laughed. Richard shot her a glare and she fell
silent.

A few moments passed in silence before the pastor spoke. Prophetically,
Richard realized they were too far away to hear much of what was said. Only the
occasional word made it back to where they sat.

“Pastor John,” Calvin said. “He came to see us once a month
when Mellie couldn’t make it to the Church anymore.”

“I’m sure Emily appreciated that,” Deborah said.

Calvin snorted. “He annoyed the hell out of her, but she
didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t her illness that made her stop
showing up. It’s always ‘fire and brimstone’ this and ‘end of the world’ that
with Pastor John. Personally, I like the guy.”

Finally, the pastor wrapped things up and the crowd began
milling about, waiting for directions on what to do next.

Calvin stood up, stretching his back and yawning. “I think
I’ll ride with you over to the cemetery.”

Richard shook his head. “We aren’t going.”

“Yes you are. You have to help put Mellie to rest.”

“No one asked me to come.”

“That’s because I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

“We aren’t going dad. Traffic will be bad,” Richard said,
his voice hushed. People were noticing them. It was getting uncomfortable.

“Oh shut up already. You can spare one day for your mother.
You’ve avoided us for all these years.”

“I didn’t avoid you,” Richard said, his face flushing in
anger. “You left me no choice.”

“Say what you want.”

“I’m not saying what I want. I’m
saying
what’s true.”

“Emily didn’t get to see her grandchildren,” Calvin said,
chewing. His rheumy eyes were suddenly full of anger. “That’s what’s true.”

“She was
why
she didn’t get to see them. If she
hadn’t been so cruel to Deborah things would have been fine.”

“Oh she said a few things—“

“She said Deborah would never be welcome in her family,”
Richard interrupted. The room fell silent around them. He didn’t care. “She
told her she would never be good enough.”

Calvin lowered his eyes. “And she regretted saying it. She
was young. We made mistakes.”

“She might have,” Richard said quietly. “But it doesn’t
matter.”

“You should have forgiven her.”

“There was
nothing
to forgive. You made me choose
between my wife and my family,” Richard said. “My wife will win every time. I
married her. I love her. And you made her unwelcome. Given the circumstances,
Emily was lucky she saw us as often as she did.”

“Damn it, Richard. All she ever wanted was a chance to say
she was sorry.”

“There was no point!”

“Maybe not to you,” Calvin said. “But to her, it meant the world.
One word of forgiveness from you would have meant
everything
. Nothing to
forgive? Couldn’t you let it go, then? Was it worth it, punishing her like
that?”

The words hit Richard in the gut. “I was never punishing
her…”

“Call it whatever you want,” Calvin said, “and it comes to
the same damn thing. You were mad, and boy do you know how to hold a grudge. Always
did. So go if you want to. Leave. Nurse your grudge. But you will always,
always,
be my son.”

Then Calvin turned and waved his hand, a clear dismissal. Richard
stood still for a long moment. For the first time he could remember, he was at
a loss for words. All the anger he felt for the years of betrayal were bubbling
to the surface. So many things he was angry for, so many crimes and cruelties,
and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Come on,” he said, heading for the exit. People parted
around him and every face held the same expression of stunned disbelief. Richard
was too angry and hurt to care. He didn’t even check if his family was
following.

He climbed into his Lexus and slammed the door, rubbing his
hand across the five o’clock shadow. The same memory that had haunted him
through the years played out in his mind.: when he’d told them he was done,
that they would never see him or his family again.

And echoing in the back of his mind, the voice of his father
kept repeating: ‘was it worth it?’

His family climbed into the car around him and sat in
silence.

It was never about whether or not it was worth it
,
Richard reminded himself. It was about what was
right
. What Emily did
was unfathomable. It was unforgivable. And he’d never forgiven them.

Thirty years, and he’d never forgiven them.

And now she is gone.

The realization struck him like a battering ram. He felt a
tear slip down his cheek. It hadn’t really sunk in until now. His mother was
gone. Emily was gone. She would never come back, had passed into the next life,
and he was
still
angry with her.

Why the
hell
was he still angry with her?

Tears were flowing freely and he felt the first sob wrench
his chest. He bit it back, the sudden flood of emotion, and rubbed his cheeks. He
cleared his throat and glanced over at his wife. She was staring at her lap. “I
never…” she started to say.

He reached over and took her hand, shaking his head
emphatically. “No. It’s not you. It was never you.” He squeezed her hand and
chuckled. “My stupid, ignorant, arrogant father. We should have done that a
long time ago.”

Richard opened the car door and stepped outside. People were
starting to come out and get in their own cars, arranging them behind the
hearse in a line.

Richard waited and finally Calvin came out, stepping just
past the awning and staring at his eldest son. He didn’t look surprised that
Richard was still here. The crowd dispersed around them.

“Come on,” Richard said, heading to his car. Calvin
followed. Deborah climbed out of the front seat and helped Calvin into the
Lexus, and then climbed into the back with the kids. Richard started the
engine, put it into gear, and joined up with the line of mourners.

The cemetery was close. After they parked, Richard made his
way back to the hearse and stood with the other pallbearers.

They exchanged glances in silence. The hearse driver waited
patiently to slide the casket out. “Do you mind if…” he started to say.

“Of course,” Adam said, stepping away from the line and
gesturing toward the front of the casket. “You have every right to be here.”

“I’m not so sure,” Richard said, his voice soft.
Nevertheless he stepped forward into the open space and took hold of the casket
as it was slid out of the hearse. The sun beat down overhead, baking the tears
on his cheeks. The casket was heavy, its weight reassuring. Together they
carried it across the line of tombstones to the waiting grave.

Together, they carried Emily to her final rest.

This time only a few words were spoken. The pastor spoke
about her life and her works. A few people said their goodbyes. Gradually the
crowd dispersed. Richard stood with his family, feeling emptiness in his chest
that pulsed with anguish and anger. Anger at himself. He wracked his brain,
trying to think of the last thing he’d ever said to his mother. It must have
been last Christmas. So long ago. He wasn’t even sure what it was.

He tried, in vain, to remember the last time he’d said
something nice to her.

Or that he loved her.

“I’m glad you came,” a voice said from behind. He turned and
saw Jason there. He looked hesitant, shifting his feet as if ready to retreat.

“Me too,” Richard said. He kissed Deborah on the cheek and
asked her and the kids to wait at the car. Once they’d wandered away he turned
back to Jason.

“It’s been a…day,” Jason said, giving up on finding a
suitable adjective.

“Yes it has,” Richard said. A moment slipped past. “Listen
it’s been too long since…”

“Yeah, it has,” Jason said.

“How about if you came over sometime for dinner. I mean if
you aren’t too busy. It would be good for the kids. To meet their uncle.”

“I’d love to,” Jason said.

“And also, if you could ask Bethany. See if maybe she and
Adam would like to come over and visit.”