Imagine That (14 page)

“I happen to believe it's important to wait.”

She sat up again. “Are you telling me you've never—”

“Yeah, I have,” Nate said, color staining his cheeks. “I rebelled against my faith for most of those years in Atlanta. Thought I knew better. But when I came home I realized my life had only left me empty. I went back to what I knew in my heart was right.”

“So two years then?”

His eyes locked with hers. “It hasn't much been an issue until now.”

She'd become an issue. Which meant they had a whole host of them to deal with. So she asked the question she feared had no good answer.

“What do we do now?”

He took a deep breath. “I have no idea.”

Yep, no good answer at all.

Nate climbed out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked toward the basketball courts at the far end of the park. The distance gave him plenty of time to work up a head of steam. The phone call he'd received at work played in his mind over and over. His brother. Skipping school, and not for the first time.

As he drew closer to the court, he could make out four teenaged boys in an all-out war for supremacy. He recognized his brother's lanky form among the group, and his temper spiked even more.

He stopped at the edge of the paved surface and waited until his brother went for a layup. “Yo… Zach!”

The kid stumbled and missed his shot. Wobbled on his feet, too, and ended up sprawled on his rear. Nate smiled at the instant justice.

Zach scowled. “What gives, man?

“Game's over, pal,” Nate said, crooking a finger. “Let's go.”

Zach lumbered to his feet and reached for the basketball. “We're not finished.”

“You are now.”

“Go away. We're just having some fun.”

Nate crossed his arms. “Do you want me to come over there and get you? Drag you off the court in front of your friends?”

Zach spat on the ground and then fired the ball at one of the other boys. “I'll catch you guys later.”

Ignoring the darts of venom being aimed at his head, Nate walked back to the car with his brother in tow.

Zach curled his lip. “Are you even gonna tell me why you're so ticked, bro?”

Nate shot him a
don
'
t-push-me
glance. “Guess.”

“I don't know.”

“Can you think of a reason your school might call me?”

Zach stared at the ground and mumbled. “No.”

Nate faced his brother and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You gonna add telling lies to your list of crimes now?”

“Crimes?” Zach jumped back out of reach. “What is this, an inquisition? Why don't you tell me what I'm guilty of then, judge and jury?”

“You still want to play games? Fine. Ethan Thomas called me today. You know, your principal? He says you've been skipping school.”

Zach's eyes darkened and his chin lifted in defiance. “So what?”

Nate's fists clenched tight as he fought the urge to wipe the smirk off his brother's lips. “What if they'd called Mom, huh? Did you think of that?”

White blotched out the pink in Zach's cheeks. “You didn't tell her?”

“Like I'd put another burden on her shoulders,” Nate said. “No,
I
get to deal with you.”

Zach scuffed his shoe in the dirt. “It's not like I missed much. I know all that stuff anyway.”

“You've learned everything there is to know from high school?” Nate asked, not bothering to hide the biting sarcasm. “Maybe we should send you right to college then, since you're such a genius.”

“Funny.”

“I wish I were laughing. I wish I didn't have to leave work to hunt you down or worry about where you've gotten to on top of everything else.”

Zach flashed sullen eyes. “What do you care if I skip anyway? The way I hear it, you skipped all the time.”

It was Nate's turn to squirm. “That was different.”

“How?”

Nate got in his brother's face, grounding out the words. “Because you're smart, Zach. You don't even have to try and you get straight A's. I will not let you waste the brain God gave you. Someone in our family has to go to college and make something of himself.”

“Did you ever think maybe I don't want to go to college? Maybe I'll get a job at the auto shop or something.”

“Over my dead body.”

Zach shoved past his brother. “Why don't you get off my back? I don't need you running after me.”

Nate followed. “Don't you dare walk away from me.”

“Or what? You gonna ground me?”

“I think I'll settle for kicking your skinny butt.”

He kept walking. “Shove off.”

“Zach!”

He spun around “What? Just leave me alone! You're not my dad, and you're not Mom!”

Nate clamped a hand around Zach's arm. “Right, and pretty soon I'll be the only one you've got left. It'll just be you and me. So, why don't you give me a break? I can't deal with your problems, too.”

“Your problems? You're not the only one losing a mother, you know. I'm seeing her die a little every day same as you. Excuse me if I don't think learning about the Civil War means a thing right now.”

Regret pierced Nate's conscience. Zach tried to tear his arm away, but Nate held on. He lowered his voice. “You're right. I do forget sometimes.”

Zach pulled again. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

“Let. Go.”

He wrapped his arms around his brother. “No.”

Zach struggled for a moment more and then collapsed against Nate's chest. Nate absorbed the sobs and tried not to give in to the urge to weep right along with his brother. The storm lasted for a few minutes.

Finally, Zach lifted his head, his silver gray eyes rimmed with red and his cheeks mottled. “I don't want to feel like this anymore.”

“Like what?”

“Angry. I feel like I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one can hear me. It makes me want to tear stuff apart.”

Nate slipped his hands into his pockets. “Join the club.”

“Why is God letting this happen to
her
?”

He withstood the defiant look and the blunt question. “I don't know. What I do know is you're my little brother, and I'm not going anywhere. So, if I have to ride your butt about going to school, I will. If I have to follow you to every class to make sure you walk in the room, I will. If I have to go to all your teachers every day to make sure you stayed in class the entire time, I will. I don't know why our mother has to die, but I do know I will turn into your worst nightmare if I find out you've been skipping school again.”

Zach's face darkened and he walked off toward the car. Nate sighed. He'd hoped he and his brother had reached some kind of peaceful impasse, but supposed one conversation wouldn't solve all their problems.

Not when one of the problems had no solution.

They didn't speak on the drive home. Zach slumped in the seat and closed his eyes. Nate loosened his grip on the steering wheel. Told himself to keep his cool. He had to remember Zach was going through the same pain and confusion. Asking God the same questions Nate wanted answers to himself. He had to also consider Zach was still a kid, and things like cutting school and talking back were the only ways he had of dealing with the awful reality of their mother's illness.

Back at the house, Zach didn't even wait for the engine to stop running before he bolted from the car. Nate watched his brother go, and the weight of responsibility threatened to smother him all over again. Before long, he'd be Zach's only family. He was so not the person anyone would choose to be in charge of a troubled teenager.

Weary and heartsick, he trudged up the drive. His mother's voice rang out from her bedroom as soon as he stepped inside.

“Nathan…”

She sat up in bed, an anxious expression on her pale face.

“Hi, Ma,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“I heard doors slamming, and your brother stomping up the stairs like a bear on a rampage,” she said, ignoring his question.

“I'm sorry we woke you up.”

“I don't care about that. What happened?”

Nate walked over and sat on the edge of her bed. “Zach's having a teenager moment. Don't worry, it's taken care of.”

“I'm not dead yet. I'm still here, and I'm still his mother.” She levered herself up against the pillow and gripped his hand with surprising force. “Did you two have a fight?”

“Ma, we'll work it out.”

She shook her head. “No. Tell me.”

Despite the ache in his heart, he couldn't help but laugh at her fierce expression. Zach had given him the exact same look a few minutes ago in the park.

“Zach is having some trouble in school,” he said. “We had it out, but listen, he knows I won't tolerate him screwing up his future. Right now he's not too happy with me, though.”

Her lips pursed in a tight line. “Go get your brother.”

“Ma, let me handle it. You don't need—”

“What I need is to speak with both my sons,” she said, grip growing stronger. “Go get Zach and bring him here. Now.”

Nate returned with his errant brother a minute later.

Their mother waved them in. “Come in and sit down, both of you.”

Zach spun toward Nate. “You told her, didn't you? I bet you couldn't wait to blab about the whole thing.”

All traces of illness vanished as their mother sat up in bed. “Zachary Evan Cooper…
sit down
.”

Stunned, Zach obeyed without another peep.

“You, too,” she said, pointing at Nate. “Sit.”

Nate plopped down on the easy chair by the window.

“You two listen to me,” she said. “You have got to learn to support each other. I am not going to be here much longer. Now, we can rail against our fate and be angry about the unfairness of it all, but it doesn't change the fact that I have to leave you.”

Nate choked. “Ma—”

“Let me finish.” She regarded her younger son. “Zach, your brother is going to need you as much as you'll need him.”

Zach flashed a look of surprise. “How's Nate gonna need me?”

“Because you're his brother, and you are the
only
one who will know exactly how he's feeling.”

Zach drew himself up, as if the notion that he could help somehow made him stronger.

She directed her attention to Nate next. “And you're going to have to let Zach in. You have to tell him what's in your heart, so he knows it's okay to be angry and sad and scared.”

Nate could barely breathe through the intense pain barreling through his body, but he managed to nod. “I'll try.”

“You boys will have to be there for each other,” she said. “It can't be one looking after the other. I need you to promise me you'll do that.”

“We will,” they said together.

“Good. And Zach…”

“What?”

“Don't you
ever
make your brother have to go search for you again.”

He glanced at Nate. “You did tell her?”

“I'm not stupid, Zachary,” she said. “All he said was you were having trouble in school. I remember enough from Nate's school days to know it means either skipping school, not doing your work, talking back to teachers, or all three.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Nate muttered, embarrassment replacing sadness for the moment.

She allowed a small smile. “You gave me plenty of gray hairs.”

“So, dealing with Zach is my punishment,” Nate said.

“Oh, no,
he
won't be giving you anymore trouble. Will he?”

Zach hung his head. “No.”

“And the next time you feel like sitting in class is too much, go find someone to talk to,” she said. “Your brother or Principal Thomas or Pastor Seth. Or just pray. God will find you no matter where you are. He's going to be here with you long after I'm gone.”

Nate saw the moment his mother's strength evaporated. The effort of trying to make her stubborn sons understand took its toll. She slumped back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

“Zach, go upstairs and do your homework,” Nate said.

Nate almost expected his brother to protest, but instead he nodded. Zach walked over and kissed their mother's cheek. At the door, he paused. His cheeks puffed out like he'd done as a little kid when he was trying not to cry. Then he slipped out of the room.

Nate crossed to the bed and pulled the comforter up across her chest. He started to ask if she wanted anything to eat, but realized she'd already fallen asleep.

He thought about what she'd said and knew she was right. He and Zach had to figure out a way to live without her.

He just didn't know how.

Emily never knew the folks who made thumbtacks had a catalogue. Never knew you could buy a do-it-yourself bonsai or soap carving kit, either. She hadn't realized people carved figurines out of soap in the first place. She tossed the catalogue onto the growing pile and reached for the next one. Homemade soups delivered to your door 365 days a year. Interesting, but not as jaw dropping as the date on the postmark.

1978?

When Emily had arrived at Aurora's house, the old lady had handed her a stack of catalogues, a key, and a jumbo box of trash bags.

“I want you to take every one of those cursed things and send them back to wherever they came from,” she'd decreed. “They keep cluttering my house, so I'm going to clutter their offices.”

Which meant Emily had spent the last two hours knee deep in the muck of cheap, useless gewgaws like
M
ade-in-China
toy wooden boats.

Well, the boats were kind of cute.

Eventually, she managed to box, tie, stuff, and store the catalogues, and then she made about a dozen trips to her car, loading them up. When they were crammed into every nook and cranny of the vehicle, Emily headed for town and the post office. She didn't know exactly how she was going to accomplish the feat of mailing them back to their senders. Some of the companies, like the yearlong soup delivery, had most likely gone out of business sometime during the Reagan administration.

A stroke of luck had another car pulling out of a space right in front of the door to the post office. Emily didn't get out of the car right away, though, because she had to take a moment to drink in the building. Apparently, the post office had been a train depot at one time. The old wooden platform still existed, and customers could drop off stamped letters and packages at a window outside where passengers used to buy tickets. Emily fell in love instantly.

Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to daydream about a train depot-cum-post office when she had a car full of catalogues to dispose of before the seasons changed. She started by hauling each box and bag and sack to the front door. She felt quite safe in leaving the growing pile unattended. She didn't figure anyone would steal them, and if per chance someone did, they were welcome to the spoils. Pretty soon, sweat ran down her back, which added to the layer of grime she'd collected in the catalogue graveyard at Aurora's house.

In the middle of her twentieth round trip, a voice rang out.

“Emily, what are you doing?”

She twisted and saw Julia and Sarah approaching from the far end of the parking lot. Sarah was pushing a stroller with a towheaded, apple-cheeked toddler inside. Distracted, Emily lost her grip on the box.

Julia caught it before magazines exploded all over the platform. “Authentic 1857 cook stoves? Kewpie dolls from around the world?” she asked, after taking a look inside the box. “Have you acquired a catalogue fetish? Where did these come from?”

“The bowels of Aurora Johnston's third-floor depository,” Emily said. “She wants them all sent back to their owners.”

Sarah whacked her stepsister in the shoulder. “I can't believe you sent poor Emily to Aurora. That woman would tempt a saint to commit murder.”

“She's not so bad,” Emily said. “Cranky as all get out, but I think she argues mostly for something to do. I'm of the opinion that she's bored.”

“Bored?” Sarah said. “You can't be serious?”

“She's helped me expand my vocabulary, at least. I am now inventing new ways to say
difficult old lady
. Other than the tree-limb-cutting incident, I still maintain she's harmless.”

“What tree-limb-cutting incident?” Julia asked.

Emily grabbed the last box from her car. “It was only a small cut and, fortunately, the saw wasn't rusty. And if I style my hair right, you can't even see the bruise.”

“Wait,” Julia said in alarm. “What bruise? Why did Aurora have you handling saws?”

“It was just one saw,” Emily said. “Could one of you get the door?”

“Oh, sorry,” Julia said, springing into action. “Sarah, hold the door while we bring these boxes in.”

Sarah did one better. She wedged the stroller in the entryway, propping the door open so she could haul packages in, too. Within a few minutes, all the catalogues were at least inside the post office. Julia summoned the postmaster, who emerged from the back a few minutes later.

Humpty Dumpty ran the post office, Emily thought, holding back a hysterical laugh. Jeffrey Jefferson came up to Emily's chin and was as wide as he was tall. His balding head was topped with a doughnut ring of what had to be dyed black hair. His polyester, government issued uniform pants were hiked up to his chest and topped by a white, buttoned shirt and a gray tie.

Mr. Jefferson took one look at the pile of boxes and bags and went stark white. “What are those?” he asked, eyeing the mail-order mountain like he expected it to detonate at any second.

“Aurora Johnston no longer wants these catalogues in her house,” Emily said. “She would like them sent back.”

Jeffrey Jefferson shook his head hard enough to make his double chin waddle. “We don't do that.”

“Why not?” Emily asked, enjoying the rare treat of being able to look down her nose at someone. “You put them in her mailbox. You should be able to return them to their rightful owners.”

Still shaking his head, Mr. Jefferson spun around and shouted. “Bernice! Bernice, I need you!”

The back door opened again, and a stout, fortyish black woman appeared. It wasn't hard to figure out she was the one in charge.

Emily told her tale before Bernice even had to ask. “I want to mail these back to whoever sent them.”

Bernice eyed the mess. “Child, are you crazy?”

“No, but I work for a testy senior citizen who doesn't take no for an answer. These catalogues were delivered to Aurora Johnston's home without her permission. She wants them vacated from the premises.”

Bernice nodded. “Shoulda known that Johnston woman was behind this.”

“You know Aurora?” Emily asked.

“My sister runs the cleaning service that goes over to her house. I've heard tales, believe you me.”

Emily chuckled. “So you understand my predicament.”

“We could burn ‘em,” Bernice said. “O-roar-ra would never know.”

“Don't count on it. Besides, I kind of like the tit-for-tat of returning the blasted things.”

Bernice's dark brown eyes twinkled. “Can't stand ‘em myself. I'll get some people with handcarts. We'll haul them in the back. Might take us a few weeks, but we'll see they get back where they belong.”

Emily smiled with gratitude. “Thank you. You've been a marvelous help.”

Bernice let out a little grunt. “Anyone who can put up with O-roar-ra deserves all the help she can get.”

When the last of the boxes had been loaded onto the cart, Emily thanked the helpful postal worker. “Bernice, why don't you have the title to go along with the running of this place?” Emily asked.

Gleaming white teeth showed as Bernice threw her head back and laughed. “Mr. Jefferson has another month before he retires. I'm just waitin' my turn. Politics, you know. His daddy was postmaster, and his granddaddy before that. Fortunately for me, JJ never married. No more Jeffersons left to carry on the tradition.”

Emily was still laughing when she went back out to the front room. Sarah was reading to the little girl, while Julia pursued such interesting fare as change of address forms.

“You two didn't have to wait for me,” Emily said.

“We didn't mind,” Sarah said, putting the book down. “We've been running around all day, trying to finish a million different things before Saturday, and this is the first moment we've had to relax.”

Sarah stood up and plopped her daughter back in the stroller. Julia fastened the strap, taking a moment to tickle the little girl's chin, earning a huge belly laugh in response.

“Hey, we haven't even introduced you yet,” Julia said. “This is my niece, Mary.”

Emily hunkered down in front of the stroller. “Hi ya, kid.”

Mary grinned.

“She's adorable,” Emily said.

Julia chuckled. “Knows it, too. She's also the reason I came back here, so I suppose I'll never hear the end of it when she's finally able to complete full sentences.”

With the baby situated, the three women and the little lady made their way out to the parking lot.

Julia gave Emily a hug. “I'd love to help you move more of Aurora's things, but Saturday is still looming, and we have way too much to do.”

“What's happening on Saturday?” Emily asked.

“You don't know?” Julia asked in surprise. “I thought everyone in the Western hemisphere knew. I'm getting married on Saturday.”

“We're all in a bit of an uproar,” Sarah said.

“Congratulations,” Emily said. “I didn't know the wedding was so soon.”

Julia grabbed Emily's arm. “You have to come.”

Emily's lungs seized up. “I couldn't intrude.”

“Intrude? Are you kidding? The entire town is coming. What's one more? Besides, I'd like you to be there.”

Despite the awful impending sense of doom, Emily couldn't refuse such a heartfelt request. “All right. What's the dress code, and where and when do I need to show up?”

“Covington Fall Community Church, two ‘o clock. Think garden party,” Julia said.

As Emily trudged to her car, she reflected that given a choice, she'd rather hang out with O-roar-ra and her narcoleptic dog.