Then Sings My Soul (7 page)

“Do I have to say it every day too?”

“You don't have to since you are so young. But it would be good if you can.”

“But you will be here to remind me God is good. Why must I say it?”

“Because I will not always be around. And so you must be able to know these things for yourself.”

“But you
will
always be here, Mama.”

Eliana bowed her head.

Peter put his book down. “Do people who believe in Messiah Yeshua say it too?”

Eliana turned her head toward her eldest child. “I don't think so. But we can.”

“Say it now, Mama,” Jakob had said.

“Why don't we say it together? Come, hold my hand, Peter.”

Then the three of them, candlelight flickering against their hopeful faces, had recited the Kaddish for the second time that day, as they did every day after that.

“I'm sorry,” Peter whispered, firelight reflecting off his face as he approached Jakob where he lay on the bed.

“So am I.”

Peter grasped Jakob's hand with the remaining thumb and forefinger on his right hand. “
Hakarat hatov
.
*
It is our duty to praise.”

Jakob watched a star flicker and another shoot across the sky outside the window. “Yes,” he replied, watching more stars come out as Peter recited the traditional evening prayers as Mama and Papa had done what seemed like ages ago.

1994

South Haven, Michigan

CHAPTER 10

After the funeral, Nel considered how little the church she'd grown up in had changed, except for new carpeting in the sanctuary, donated by the Pershing family. Mr. Pershing served as vice president of one of the big auto manufacturers, and the brass, inlaid floor plate with the Pershings' name on it, centered in the aisle, ensured no one forgot their generosity. The rest of the church floor consisted of cold, square industrial tiles, from the narthex to the teen room in the basement. Parishioners—at least the ones who'd come to pay their respects to her mother—hadn't changed either, except for more gray hair and a heavier scent of night cream, Ben-Gay, and pipe tobacco. Nel had a feeling that younger families in town, if they attended, came either because they'd grown up there or married into a family that grew up there, or were new in town and chose the church because they grew up Presbyterian. After all, if there was one thing you could count on in a new town, it was the consistency of the Presbyterian church. A curmudgeonly old man Nel recognized as Mr. Wiley, of Wiley and Sons Lumber Company, stood smiling on one side of the doors leading out of the church as Nel prepared to help her father navigate the concrete steps.

“Mr. Stewart?”

Jakob was more intent on brushing away Nel's attempts to hold him by the elbow than paying attention to yet another elderly man approaching him on the sidewalk.

“Dad.” Nel nudged him, tilting her head toward the man when Jakob looked at her questioningly.

Judging from his walker and tentative gait, the man wasn't in any better shape than Jakob. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Stewart. Catherine was a true lady.”

“Lev?”

“Yep. It's been a while, I know. How are you, boss?”

“Well, well, well. Lev Herzog. It sure is good to see you.” Jakob shifted his cane to his left hand and extended his right to Lev. “I'd be running races in the parking lot here if my daughter would let go of my elbow.”

“Okay, Dad.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. She extended her hand to Lev. “Nel Stewart. Thank you for coming, Mr. Herzog.”

“Call me Lev. Please, young lady.” He shook his head and his eyes widened, looking amazed. “Last time I saw you, you couldn't have been more than knee high.”

He turned to Jakob. “Say, boss, do you remember when Dave Carter took over the press room?”

Jakob erupted with deep laughter, and the two began carrying on about their years together on and off the factory floor, Lev leaning on his walker, and Jakob leaning on his cane.

Nel was grateful when she spotted her friend Lori. “Lori! Hi!”

“Nel, I'm so sorry. How are you, friend?”

Throughout school, Nel and Lori had been inseparable. Despite her excellent grades, Nel was always on the verge of trouble, and somehow Lori reeled her in or smoothed everything out. Some incidents were relatively minor, like the junior prom when Nel was so busy swooning over her prom date, she hadn't noticed the salad stuck on her front tooth. Lori yanked her into the bathroom, nearly breaking the stiletto off one of Nel's dyed-to-match high heels, and plucked it out before he'd noticed. Other times were more serious, like the time when Nel snuck out of the house to meet a bunch of boys on the beach for a bonfire. When Jakob and Catherine found Nel's empty bed, they called Lori, who covered for her by making up a sleepover story on the spot, then risked getting in trouble herself by going out to find Nel at the bonfire and bringing her back home.

The most significant save came after college, though, when Nel lost her baby in 1975. Lori was the first person Nel had called as she lay weepy and muzzy-headed from morphine in a hospital delivery room.

“The baby came early,” Nel had sobbed into the phone. “And there was a lot of bleeding. Too much bleeding. The blood was everywhere.”

“Are you all right?”

“The bleeding stopped. But the baby … He was so small … so beautiful … He was perfect. I felt his heart beating. I felt it, Lori. Until it stopped.”

“Oh, Nel, I'm so sorry. I'm on my way over there. I'm so sorry.”

When Lori, in medical school at the time, arrived at the hospital, she'd found Nel on the floor of the bathroom in a growing puddle of blood. She'd passed out and hit her head, and if Lori hadn't been in the room with her, the doctors said she would've bled to death before the nurse had found her on rounds. The fall wasn't the worst of it, although that in itself required several stitches above her eye. The majority of the blood came from her uterus, and they'd had to rush her back to surgery. The doctors worked on her for two hours, transfusing her with unit after unit of blood, until finally they'd had no choice but to give her an emergency hysterectomy. She'd never have children of her own.

“It's so good to see you too.” Nel embraced her friend, their affection for each other resurrecting itself the way it always did when they hadn't seen each other in months—as if they'd never been apart. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Lori stepped back and flipped a long blonde braid over her shoulder as she lifted her toddler daughter, Hadley, onto her hip. Lori was one of the few people Nel knew who could look fabulous wearing overalls with dress flats and cute cardigan sweaters, all after birthing five children, including Hadley, her fifth. “Sorry about bringing this little squirt, and for the jeans … Trey's working, and my sitter canceled last minute. I decided to run over here while I had the chance, before the others get off the school bus.”

Nel stuffed back a fleeting sense of envy over her friend's perfectly balanced life as a wife, mother, and part-time pediatrician. “It's totally fine—I'm just so glad you're here.”

“You look fabulous … and I love the dreads.” Lori reached out and curled one of the thick strands around her finger playfully.

“Really? Thank you. I saw a few raised eyebrows in the church.”

“They were probably just wondering how you are. Dreads aren't exactly a new thing.” Lori laughed. “You staying in town long?”

Nel watched Lori tug Hadley's hat down tighter over her curly, bright-blonde hair and tiny ears. The air was chillier than it had been the day before. Hadley pressed her head into Lori's shoulder.

“I'm not sure. Dad … well, he's weak. I'm not sure he can be left alone. Mom must've been doing most everything for him. But I've got deadlines, and holiday orders are coming in like crazy already. I need to get back.”

Lori nodded empathetically, then followed Nel's gaze to Jakob, who'd finished talking to Lev and now swayed precariously toward the Crown Victoria, each of his lurching steps a totter away from a snapped hip, a twisted knee, a hard and possibly mortal fall. He struggled to pull the giant passenger-side door open, and before Nel could run over to help, Billy Esposito, who'd been talking to a younger group of Brake-All guys, helped him. “They don't have much reserve at that age, that's for sure. What is he, eighty-something?”

“Ninety-four.”

“Wow.” Lori shook her head, looking amazed.

“The house is falling apart.
He's
falling apart. I'm not sure what I'm going to do.” Nel looked up at the sky, the gray billows of clouds rolling in from the lake threatening freezing rain or perhaps snow.

Hadley fussed, the freezing air pinking her plump cheeks. Lori shushed her, then turned to Nel. “We can talk more, maybe grab coffee before you leave or something. I know of some great assisted-living places and home health agencies recommended by colleagues who work with adults, if it comes down to him needing help.”

“Thanks, but I'm not sure he'd ever go for that. Losing Mom, then losing their home … I'm not sure he'd survive. Too many memories there. And he'd cringe over help coming in. He's so stubborn.”

“Yeah … it's a tough spot to be in. For both of you.” Lori leaned in closer to her. “Don't look now, but here comes David Butler.”

Nel turned despite Lori's warning and nearly fell into him. He was standing right behind her.

“Sorry to surprise you like that.” He grinned and extended his hand. “David Butler, by the way. I'm not sure if you remember me.”

“I remember,” Nel said, composing herself and shaking his hand.

“I'm truly sorry about your mom. She was a fine lady.”

“She was.”

“I'll let you two catch up,” Lori said, Hadley squirming in her arms. “I gotta get Hadley home before the school bus brings the others. Don't you leave town without calling me, 'kay?”

“'Kay. Thanks so much for coming, really.” Nel turned back to David, who was straightening his tie. “I saw you at Mattie's when I arrived yesterday. I thought you'd moved to Florida a while back.”

“I did. Didn't work out.” He glanced around the parking lot, looking uneasy with her question.

“Oh—I'm sorry to hear that.” She decided not to press him for details. “So you're fixing houses?”

“I've got my own handyman service. Started it a couple years back. More and more people buying up and building vacation homes here, so I keep pretty busy.”

“I bet. How long have you been working on Mattie's?”

“A couple weeks. I'm just about finished.”

“Mom and Dad's place is looking pretty bad.”

“I kinda noticed that.” The wind blew his hair across his greenish-gray eyes.

“Might need you to take a look at it one day when you're at Mattie's.”

“I'd be happy to. Give me a holler if you're home and I'm out there.”

“Will do.” She struggled to look him in the eye, determined not to reveal the resurgence of her old feelings of high school infatuation. And at her mom's funeral, of all places. Then again, her mom might've encouraged her. “Thanks again for coming. It's nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too, Nel. And like I said, I'm real sorry about your mom.”

She watched him walk across the parking lot to his truck.

“What was that all about?”

Nel startled, not hearing Mattie come alongside her.

“Sheesh, I'm jumpy today. It was nothing … I mean, he was just paying his respects.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Oh, stop,” Nel said, giving Mattie a playful nudge on the arm. At the same time, if she were honest, she couldn't help wondering what David was all about either. Could he seriously be toying with the same emotions she was? He was the one who'd dumped her that night. She hadn't forgotten that. Still, she noticed his phone number on the side of his truck.

Yes. She would need to get an estimate from him. Mom and Dad's house was going to need a few repairs.

CHAPTER 11

The following week, Jakob sat near the picture window overlooking the lake and watched through the nearly naked tree limbs as the colors of the dusk sky blended and mingled like the variegated colors of tourmaline. Nel had made a fire in the fireplace, but it did nothing to chase the chill out of his legs, which had felt perpetually numb since the frigid burial service at the cemetery. From this spot in his favorite chair, he could hear Nel washing and clanging around glass pans and other remnants from the dozen or so casseroles Mattie and Catherine's friends from choir had been bringing by. The clamor was a welcome noise. The house was way too quiet without the buzz of Catherine and her activities and housekeeping. The woman had rarely, if ever, sat down.

The day before, Mattie came over, and he'd listened as she and Nel wept and laughed for hours while they cleaned out Catherine's side of the closet, choosing which items to donate and which were too threadbare to keep, and packing away most of the rest. Jakob was grateful for their help. Not only had the initial thought of poking through Catherine's belongings bothered him, he just didn't have the strength or inclination to do any of that himself. His mind had fallen into a sort of haze he struggled to wade through during the days, the creaks of floorboards and the wind against the eaves sounding like Catherine's voice to his waning hearing.

Noises weren't the only thing that vexed him. He saw things too, darting shadows he mistook for Catherine that ended up being the dappled penumbrae of light against walls and doorframes. On the night of the funeral, he'd awakened to pitch-blackness and the sound of a toilet flushing.

“Catherine?” he'd cried out.

When Nel ran into the room, the shadowy outline of her frame was so much like Catherine's, he'd reached for her. Only when Nel backed away from his hand—something Catherine would never have done—had the mirage faded. He'd been glad the darkness hid his embarrassment and hoped it had veiled his confusion too.

He heard Nel shut off the water in the kitchen and pick up the phone receiver. Soon someone greeted her on the other end of the line.

“I have some things to finish up here,” Nel explained. “Decisions to make … I understand, yes, by November tenth. Yes, but I can't get back until the fifth at the earliest …”

One of her jewelry buyers, Jakob figured, as Nel bantered away. He knew she had work to do back in Santa Fe, but he suspected from the way she fussed over him, she didn't want to leave him. He didn't want to be a burden.

“Maybe …,” Nel rambled on. “I might be able to have someone send some of my stuff out here. There's also the possibility of having Matthew and a couple of other artists I know finish the jobs for the
Frontiers
catalog … Right … Yes, I know … Sure … I'll make some calls and get back to you as soon as I can … Sure. Thanks, Sandra.”

She set the phone in the receiver harder than she needed to, Jakob thought. If he kept his eyes closed, maybe she'd think he was asleep.

“Dad?”

Jakob opened one eye.

“Dad, we need to talk.”

He closed it again.

Nel sighed. “I know you're exhausted. But there are decisions we need to make, and I've only got a short amount of time before I have to head back.”

Jakob opened both eyes. “Decisions?” He coughed the word out.

Nel stood at the picture window, her back toward him, and stared out at the lake.

“The house needs repairs. Updates.” She turned to face him. “You can't take all these stairs on your own. And as for meals, Mattie's great, but we can't expect—”

“I'm fine. I'll be fine. I made you breakfast, didn't I? I can cook what I need to. Get back to your work. They need you out there.”

“Work can wait, for a little while anyway. And I don't know … I was thinking maybe I could work out here until we get you some help. Sam or Matthew can send some of my things, and you have most of the tools here already that I'd need.”

“I don't want help.” He'd been enough of a burden on Catherine. He didn't want to be a burden on his daughter too.

He couldn't help notice her exasperation with him as she ran both hands through the length of her hair and pushed the dreadlocks off her forehead. She came to where he sat and knelt on the floor in front of him, taking his hands in hers. “Look, Dad. Neither one of us is any good at this asking-for-help business. But we're stuck. And we've gotta figure out where to go from here.”

“I have friends. Mattie. Billy. Others who check on me. People from the church.”

“That's not enough. The repairs … they're necessary. You'll need a contractor and someone to supervise the work. And someone to check on you every day. There are home health services; Lori mentioned she might know about some good ones.”

“You go home. Take care of your jewelry and Sam. I'll be fine. I'll figure it out.” He hadn't meant to be harsh.

“Fine,” she said as she stomped toward the stairs. “You figure it out, then. Figure it all out yourself.”

Jakob cringed when the door to Nel's bedroom slammed, reminding him of the times she slammed it growing up. He didn't blame her for being upset. He was upset too. Without Catherine, he was a mess. Everything was a mess.

He fell asleep in his recliner by the fire, as he often did, which had frustrated Catherine to no end. When he awoke, it was morning. He knew this not because of daylight—there was no daylight yet. He knew it from the songs of the birds. They cut through the memory of the argument he and Nel had the night before, and his mind began to turn with the advancing realization that Nel was right. Still, he didn't want her help. More than that, he didn't want to be a burden. Hadn't he been burden enough to Catherine? Incontinence plagued him more and more often. The tremors in his hands caused him to drop and break more dishes than he could wash, so that Catherine had long been doing the dishes and most other chores herself. He could barely keep his lapidary equipment dusted, let alone use it to cut even a simple cabochon. And then there were the nightmares that Nel didn't know about yet. He hoped she wouldn't find out.

On the other hand, Nel could use his lapidary equipment. It was older than she was used to, but she could use it. He'd seen her designs, gorgeous tumbled stones, fine metalwork. And he'd love to watch how she worked. He'd brush off his equipment and straighten his workroom a bit for her this morning and offer it to her, at least until he could convince her it was okay for her to leave.

He pulled his cane out from where he'd tucked it into the seat cushion beside him, leaned against it with one hand, and pushed up from the chair with the other. His bladder was so full, he wasn't sure he could hold it. His thighs and tailbone burned from the effort of the long shuffle to the bathroom. He hoped he could make it in time, the stinging pressure of urine threatening to escape.

As he tried to shuffle faster, he heard a loud snap, and a black curtain of pain overwhelmed him as he thudded to the floor, the warmth of urine flooding over his groin.