All About B.A.D. (17 page)

They arrived back on the island in the dark. All the travelers were tired and ready to be out of the car, especially Conner who had become fussy with the confinement. No lights were on at Wanda’s, including the lamp in the garden. It was unusual but not unexpected. Wanda tired easily. This meant earlier bedtimes, periodically accompanied by a prescription for sleep. Stephen pulled the car next to the trailer and went to flip the outside switch while Bernadette gathered up her son.

“If you’ll unlock the door, I’ll give you a hand with unpacking.” Without waiting for an answer, Stephen opened the trunk and began reaching for bags. 

Bernadette made the short walk to the back steps of Wanda’s house. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, everything was brought inside the House of Many Colors. Bernadette readied her son for bed and was grateful that he offered little resistance to his crib. She hummed softly and rubbed his back until his steady breathing assured her he had drifted off, contented to be someplace familiar. Bernadette locked the house, unpacked what she needed and decided to leave what she could finish until the morning. 

She considered waking Wanda to assure her they were back safely but realized it would be silly to disturb the sound sleep of someone who was rarely able to enjoy it. Selfishness, too, would have her knock on Wanda’s bedroom door. Bernadette was eager to talk about the visit. Wanda would have lots of questions. They would have to wait until morning. 

Bernadette took a book and walked into the kitchen. A few steps near the sink, her shoes crunched down on something hard and sharp. Using the dim beam from the stovetop, she saw remains of what had been a glass filled with some type of liquid scattered across the floor. An alarm went off in her head. She cleaned up the spill and shards of glass and looked around for blood or signs of an accident. There were none. What did it mean? Wanda never left things untidy; she would have been worried about broken glass strewn on the floor. 

Uncertain what to do, Bernadette crept down the hallway and listened at Wanda’s door. Nothing. She whispered her name. No sound came from within the dark room. Bernadette rapped lightly while calling the name a little louder. Still, only silence. She gave the door a small shove until it was slightly ajar. Waiting for her eyes to adjust, she edged in, softly repeating her friend’s name. Then she made her way to the foot of the bed. It was empty, the covers tightly in place.

She turned back into the hallway. Occasionally, Wanda slept on the couch in the den; she probably would have heard them come into the house if she was there, but maybe not if she had downed the drugs. Finding the sofa empty, Bernadette ran to the telephone. Fear threatened the use of her fingers and she wasn’t certain if she could find her voice. Swallowing hard, she dialed Josh. 

The rings on the other end were up to ten before she slammed down the receiver and headed to the trailer out back. 

“Darkness covered everything, Blacker than a hundred midnights down in a cypress swamp…” The words from a piece memorized years ago repeated themselves in an unceasing loop as she spun down a slow-moving whirlpool, bobbing up, drifting down once again where something, someone kept beckoning.

“Come back! Don’t go! Not yet, it isn’t time!” The voice was familiar: sad, pleading. Whose was it? Had she answered? They didn’t understand the calm calling to her. Pain-free peace. Remorse? What about the ones not with her? Leaving them behind would be her biggest regret.

He was studying to spend his life in hospitals and because of that was able to learn which one held Wanda Payne. The woman on the other end of the telephone wouldn’t say any more except that she had been admitted. Stephen was dressed and ready to leave within minutes after opening the door to Bernadette’s frantic knocking. He persuaded her to let Conner sleep. He would go alone and learn as much as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bernadette paced from room to room, interrupted only by her attempts to reach Joshua or Deah. When neither answered their telephones, she was certain they were still somewhere with Wanda, sitting by her bedside in a hospital. It was where she wanted to be—
needed
to be—to soothe her friend. She put away the rest of the baggage from the trip. She cleaned places that didn’t need it and tidied areas that did. It was a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stephen’s inquiries at the front desk led nowhere. He walked the halls and looked into waiting rooms. He talked with an intern he recognized from school. He had no more information than he’d had an hour ago. How could she enter this medical wonderland only to disappear? Only one answer came to mind.

The incessant ringing of the phone stirred Joshua to move from the table, knocking over a bottle. Groggy, sick to his stomach and angry, he wondered why they didn’t leave him alone. All he wanted now was to be left alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bernadette hung up the phone. How long would they be with her before going home? Why hadn’t they called her by now? She should have woken up her son and gone with Stephen. It would have been better than being here alone, waiting. She decided to dress and call for a taxi. Reaching for the telephone, she was stopped by the sound of a car making its way up the drive.

Bernadette rushed into the darkness as Stephen emerged from the car, and he slowly closed the space between them. 

“How is she? Where is she? Can I go see her, Stephen? I’ve tried Josh, Deah, no one is answering. Are they with her? What did you find out?” She met Stephen with a torrent of questions. Standing slightly beyond the reach of the light from the porch she could scarcely make out the features of his face, but she felt an uncertainty in the air around him.

His words came slowly.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, Bernadette. Wanda is gone.”

“Gone? No, you’re wrong. You must be. She can’t be gone.”

“So, so sorry. Wanda is gone.”

“But I promised—we promised to look after each other. I told her I wouldn’t leave her.”

All he could do was repeat the words. “Wanda is dead. A few hours ago. She didn’t linger, Bernadette.”

“But we didn’t get to say goodbye. Death isn’t death without a goodbye.” Bernadette struggled to get her mind around Stephen’s words—the idea of them, the finality of what they meant.

“We didn’t know, Bernadette. We couldn’t have known it would be so soon.”

“Why didn’t she tell us? She could have prepared us. We wouldn’t have left her, Stephen.”

“Maybe that’s why she didn’t tell us, Bernadette. She wanted you to go to your parents and have them meet their grandson and she knew you would never leave her while she was so ill.”

A long, heart-ripping moan left her, followed by shrill screams scattering the midnight air. 

They kept coming, ungluing a carefully constructed façade meant to hold everything in place. The shrieking didn’t stop until Stephen grasped her shoulders and buried her face near his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

It would be the first of several occasions in his career that Stephen would bring unwanted news to people. These times would invariably cause him to feel as desolate as this first, telling Bernadette Donahue that Wanda Payne was dead.

Dear Lilly,

Inside you’ll find Wanda’s obituary. Obituary—I can barely write the words without being overwhelmed with grief. Even in her death, Wanda continues to teach me about choices we make and the impact these have on others. When I left Lone Grove I left without any thought about the people in my life who loved me. It was about me and what I was certain I wanted and needed. I left without goodbyes. Now I understand how that feels, what that can mean and why my folks have held onto their hurt. How cruel I’ve been. Lilly, you have been there throughout without judging or criticizing. Like Wanda, you have been a true friend. Conner and I have missed her every day – suffused with sadness as you would say. We were very fortunate to have her in our lives as we are so glad that you remain. 

Always friends,

Bernadette

People spilled out of the front door and onto the circular steps of the island church. Inside, folks were wedged shoulder to shoulder. Purple ties, purple shirts, skirts and shawls were sprinkled throughout the mourners. Most of the crowd stood in silence. Other folks shared their stories of how Wanda had entered, enlivened, encouraged, and changed their lives. All were invited afterwards to the café. There, the ongoing celebration would continue until the last soul, unhurried, sauntered out the door. Wanda Payne would have loved it.

Bernadette sat in a stupor on the front pew, a sobbing Deah on one side, a fatigued Josh on the other. They were flanked by Gladys, Bertie and Stephen. Wanda had left meticulous notes and checklists regarding her memorial service. The carefully outlined details had kept all of them busy and purposeful, allowing only sporadic stretches of sorrow. Now, with their duties and tasks ticked off, a suffocating melancholy pressed down on them. Coping with pain of separation, disbelief, they lived out their suffering in different ways. Josh’s erratic behavior was chalked up to overwhelming loss. No one questioned his absences or his unkempt appearance. Deah, Bertie, and Gladys kept the Café With Soul running while caught between crushing sadness and worrying if it would remain open. They were depending upon her Last Will and Testament to be as carefully scripted as the notes for her funeral. Stephen studied and carefully avoided thinking about his future living arrangements or the woman he had come to adore for believing in him. Bernadette retreated. Locked in the House of Many Colors, she vacillated between mind-numbing grief and a guilt so fierce it pierced through bone and marrow. She had left Wanda alone. Only Conner remained the same while sensing a change in his mother’s face and an urgency in her embraces.

Longing for a conversation no longer possible, she almost let the incessant demand of the telephone go unanswered. After several more rings, BAD finally picked up the receiver.

“Miss Donahue? Do I have Bernadette Donahue? This is Kathryn Abbott.”

The name registered. Bernadette hadn’t spoken to her since after Arthur Fetter’s trial when she had come by to drop off a check for the last of the paintings. Wanda liked her immediately and they had fallen into easy conversation.

“Yes, Mrs. Abbott, this is Bernadette.”

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Did you get my letter? We need to set up a meeting to discuss Wanda Payne’s wishes.”

“Wanda Payne is gone.” Bernadette couldn’t bear saying “dead”. Gone, passed—any euphemism other than the one that meant not seeing her again.

“Yes, I know, Bernadette. That’s why I’m calling. We need to discuss the requests in her Will. Is there a time next week when you and I can meet? I have also tried contacting Mr. Court but haven’t been able to reach him.”

“I haven’t seen him in days, Mrs. Abbott. I think he’s been sick. I can get in touch with him if it’s urgent. But I don’t understand why you and I need to meet. Is it about us living in the house? I’ve been intending to make some other arrangements. Will it be sold?” 

The string of words was more than she had uttered in days. Bernadette had fretted about what would become of her and Conner, Stephen, Deah, but nothing stayed with her very long or had much meaning. Sadness kept replacing all other thoughts and emotions.

“Next Tuesday at 2:00? Will you be available to come by my office then? Bernadette, this is very important.” After all the years working with people whose lives were in turmoil, Kathryn Abbot recognized the sound of depression. “It could be very beneficial for you and your son.”

“I’m not sure if I can get there.”

“I must tell you again, Bernadette. This is important for both you and Conner. I can send a taxi for you if you’d like.”

Bernadette looked at her son. Sometimes he seemed to be scanning the rooms for Wanda. Did he wonder where she was, why she wasn’t singing or reading to him? Mrs. Abbott said it was news from Wanda. News which may help him.

“Yes. Okay. A taxi. Thank you. I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good. My office will call you on Monday with a reminder.”

“Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

Maybe Wanda had left them a note, some directions.

Except for quick walks to a corner store to get milk or a few necessities, Bernadette hadn’t been out of the House of Many Colors since the funeral. How strange it seemed to get them both dressed, to ride in a car, do something as everyday as walking down a tree-lined street. She was surprised that the normalcy of it brought a faint sense of relief.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kathryn Abbott’s office was located in one of many genteel old homes covering the island. Tall windows emptied out on large wraparound verandas, braced by decorative columns. It spurred mental images of southern ladies taking the air between dances at a cotillion. Looking up at its multiple floors, her imagination bloomed with thoughts of silk dresses rustling and white-gloved hands spanking the air with hand-painted fans. A watercolor arranged itself into Bernadette’s consciousness, the first in weeks. 

Kathryn Abbott greeted them in a large open foyer at the foot of a spiral, heaven-directed staircase. “Miss Donahue, I’m glad you were able to come today. And you too, Conner.” 

The child looked up, glad to see a face smiling down.

“May I get you some water, tea? Something for Conner?”

“No thank you, we’re fine. I couldn’t reach Mr. Court. No one seems to know where he is.”

“Well, thank you for trying. I’m certain I’ll be able to talk with him sooner or later.”

“Oh, and thank you for sending the cab, Mrs. Abbott.”

“Certainly. Please, come into my office. My assistant will be glad to entertain your son for a few minutes.” 

Before the mother had time to answer, Conner was in the arms of a grandmotherly-looking woman named Evelyn who whisked him away to one of the front windows where he was delighted to watch a chandelier split light into colors on an opposite wall. Kathryn Abbott walked with Bernadette into what once had been the house’s ballroom. Extensive, it had been divided into sections defined by purpose. The first was dominated by an oversized desk and two substantial chairs sitting on a massive earth-toned rug. It was impressive, no-nonsense, businesslike. A second space for larger groups faced the windows at the front of the house. On one of the walls were two large watercolors depicting scenes on a Galveston beach. It was the first time the artist had seen her work displayed publicly outside the Bertan’s gallery. Bernadette was led into the smaller sitting area. Thick-cushioned sofas, nestled together, rested on soft, deep carpets, creating a retreat oozing comfort and assurance and a sense of well-being. Kathryn motioned for them to sit facing each other.

“Bernadette. This must be a difficult time for you.” 

“I miss her.
We
miss her. We didn’t even get to say goodbye. She didn’t tell us how sick she really was. I would have stayed with her. She didn’t need to be alone.” Her words couldn’t keep pace with the tears trickling, then cascading down her cheeks, wetting the collar of her blouse.

“Wanda came to see me several weeks before she died, Bernadette. She knew she had only the slightest chance of remission and wanted to get things in order. She was in a great deal of discomfort and said she would be ready to go when the time came. In the meantime, she intended to eke out every bit of life she could. She said you and Conner helped her do just that. She wanted your last memory of her to be upright and laughing and not doubled-over in pain. She encouraged you to go, Bernadette, so she could. Do you understand? She went exactly how she intended, full of memories and few regrets. You must believe what I’m telling you and also know that her way of dealing with life and death was better than ninety-nine percent of the people I’ve ever met.”

Bernadette wanted all of it to be true. It would make a difference. Lightening a load; slaking guilt. 

“Wanda loved you and Conner—that much is certain. Her Will stipulates that upon her death you are deeded her house and the property and outbuildings around it, plus a third of her estate. Wanda was generous, but frugal. She left you a nice nest egg, Bernadette.”

She heard the words, but they spun around in her brain, incoherently, unable to be processed. What little she had comprehended could not have been true. The house, the property, a third of Wanda’s estate? It was too much. She’d never had so much in her life! Surely, she’d misheard.

“Can you repeat that?” she asked, and felt her heart drum while Kathryn Abbott smiled, then patiently relayed the information a second time.

“Wanda left you her house and surrounding property, the trailer that had been her mother’s and money enough to take care of taxes, plus some for investing or perhaps furthering your artistic talents. She also left you this…”

Kathryn placed an envelope in the young woman’s hand. Bernadette drew in her breath at the sight of Wanda’s handwriting. 

“You don’t have to open it now unless you choose to do so. I’ll leave that up to you, but if you have any questions, please call me.”

Bernadette stared down at the packet, uncertain.

After a few minutes, Kathryn continued. “There are some documents that need further explanations of what you need to do. They’ll also require your signature. Why don’t we take a look at those and finish that part of business, okay?” 

Bernadette nodded and followed the attorney over to her large desk. Information was read, explained and signed. Wanda had trusted Kathryn Abbott; BAD would, too. 

Evelyn surrendered Conner to his mother once everything was in order and they were ready to leave. Another taxi was waiting and mother and child climbed in without a word. Bernadette headed home, her home now. But did it matter without her greatest advocate and friend?