Forever Friday (7 page)

Turning the key, I restarted the engine and listened to it idle. I’d tried to move on, as Haley, and now others, had suggested. But two years was an eternity for a lost man. Besides, it was still hard to imagine not being married anymore … almost unthinkable.

Sometimes I’d be paralyzed at the thought, though I continued to mimic the motions of running my estate-sale business. Throughout each gloomy day, I’d pore over the postcards every spare minute, searching for the precious secret to Huck and Gabe Alexander’s happiness. Evenings were spent punching their story into the computer in my study—I even slept there, merely passing through our bedroom as quickly as possible on the way to my closet. Occasionally, I’d type something about how the Alexanders were reminiscent of Haley and me, and then pay the price as fresh tears burned my cheeks.

Many lonely questions still plagued my restless nights, dragging
them into unanswered days. And no matter how meaningful, the piecing together of each postcard’s beautiful verse into Huck and Gabe’s life story proved difficult to impossible. There were so many private things the cards alluded to that I didn’t understand. So many unexplained connections I couldn’t make.

As I took another sip, my cell phone rang.

“Hello. This is Adam.”

“It’s Yevette Galloway.”

“Hey. Great to finally talk.”

“How about meeting at Starbucks?”

“Which one?”

“Are you familiar with the one at The Town Square in Sugar Land?”

“Of course. When?”

“Tomorrow. Ten a.m.?”

“Sure thing. Should I—”

“See you then.” Yevette hung up.

“—bring some of the postcards?” I finished, then looked at myself in the rearview mirror. “Well,” I whispered. “I guess I’m finally meeting Yevette.”

Bayshore Extended Care Facility, 2004

Yevette Galloway

Yevette strode through the etched-glass entryway at Bayshore Extended Care and into the plush lobby. She swallowed. Even the expensive places for the elderly smelled of antiseptic and a few trace odors she chose not to think about. After passing the gift shop, she continued through a set of automatic doors leading to the nurses’ station, then smiled at the nurse on duty. “Good morning, Judy. I got your message.”

“Hi, Yevette. It’s bound to be a good Saturday morning somewhere.”

A nearby medical student thumbing through patient charts offered a slight chuckle.

Judy continued. “Mrs. Alexander wasn’t happy with us yesterday because we removed her phone. It was another three-ring circus.”

“Will she get it back?” Yevette asked.

“Not this time.”

It annoyed Yevette that Huck had called 911 again, especially after they’d talked about the consequences. “I’m sorry.”

“This morning she’s forgotten about her phone but is accusing Bayshore of theft.”

“The old lady’s got spunk,” the student said. “I like that.”

“And I’d like you to address our patients with a little more respect and finish those charts.” Judy turned to Yevette and lowered her voice. “Mrs. Alexander swears that some of her mail’s been stolen and blames our staff. Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”

“It’s a long story, but she believes her deceased husband is still sending her postcards.”

“Really? Do people even send those anymore?”

Yevette shrugged.

Judy looked thoughtful. “Would you assure Mrs. Alexander that no one working at Bayshore would ever steal from her, especially her mail?”

“Sure. Thanks, Judy.” Yevette headed down the long corridor. She’d not known about Gabe’s beautiful postcard poems until Huck had asked her to help place them into albums, which they’d done on Fridays for the past several months. Yevette had learned more about Huck and Gabe’s extraordinary relationship than she’d ever dreamed possible, but they’d completed the job and there were no more cards. On some Fridays, they’d laughed themselves silly. On others, fought back tears. And two Fridays ago, they’d closed the final album and wept. “We mustn’t be sad,” Huck had bravely stated. “Gabe’s promised another card, with a poem more beautiful than any of the others.”

Feeling tearful, Yevette entered an empty sitting area just off the hallway to gather her emotions, pausing in front of a large aquarium. She’d been only twelve years old when Gabe died, and found herself still missing his grandfatherly humor and thoughtfulness. She couldn’t
fathom how Huck felt. And even though Huck’s favorite furniture pieces—a love seat and marble-top dresser—were in her room, she’d made it clear that this
place
wasn’t home and never would be.

Yevette took a deep breath and slowly released it. She’d planned a visit to Bayshore today anyway because her head was full of questions. Questions about her mother. Specific questions Yevette finally had the courage to ask. As close as she and Huck were, some issues were best left for another day. But Huck’s health was slowly declining, and Yevette couldn’t delay asking any longer. Hopefully, Huck’s dementia would cooperate.

Before Priscilla’s untimely death, she’d been Huck and Gabe’s housekeeper for twenty-six years. Her initial dream was to attend college and start her own business. Instead of doing either, she’d married Rob Galloway, an air force pilot who, two months after their wedding, crashed on a training mission over South Vietnam. He could’ve ejected and lived, but chose to steer his jet away from a populated area. Then it was too late.

“If he’d survived and been my real father,” Yevette whispered, “I wouldn’t be me.”

She gazed into the peaceful aquarium. The angelfish were Huck’s favorite, which made perfect sense after she’d explained meeting Mister Jack. Yevette had never met her own guardian angel, but that didn’t matter. Through the years Huck and Gabe had shared their rich faith in God, not only in conversation but in the way they’d loved her and cherished each other.

“I just wish I could trust a man, as Huck did Gabe,” Yevette said to the most beautiful angelfish. She’d been engaged twice and neither relationship had lasted, which made her think the failure was somehow
linked to her mother’s distrust of men after Rob died. From as far back as Yevette could remember, Priscilla had warned her daughter to trust only what was genuine, what was real. “Most men aren’t,” she’d said at least a thousand times. “Men like your birth father. You’re not old enough to understand, but I didn’t even know his name.”

When Yevette reached Huck’s room, the door was partially open. Tapping lightly, she peeked inside. Dressed in an emerald robe, Huck sat on the love seat, sleeping. Since she couldn’t get out of bed without help, someone had already been tending to her needs. However, her breakfast remained on the serving tray within arm’s length, untouched.

“Huck?” Yevette tapped louder.

“Gabe? Is that you?”

“It’s Yevette.”

“Oh, come in dear, I was waiting to tell Gabe about the stolen postcard and must have dozed off.” She smiled. “He’ll call out an entire posse of Texas Rangers.”

“Nothing’s been stolen.”

“Did
they
instruct you to say that?” Huck’s smile disappeared.

“We placed his last postcard in an album two weeks ago, and then I hid them.”

“At our home?”

“Just as you suggested. In Gabe’s study among the photo collection.”

“And you won’t forget what to do if I never leave this wretched place?”

“I’ll remember.”

Yevette cocked her head to one side. Huck had been adamant about
finishing the albums before Gabe returned. But since Yevette’s schedule prevented her from working on the project every week, Huck’s adamancy evolved into pettiness and gloom. So a few weeks back, Yevette had gently reminded Huck that Gabe was deceased.

“He promised to come back, and I believe him,” Huck said sternly. “If he doesn’t, then the cards must be destroyed.”

“Is that what Gabe would want?” Yevette asked, surprised Huck would even suggest it.

“We discussed it on our wedding night. Neither one of us wants them falling into the wrong hands.”

What
hands
? Yevette had wanted to ask. She knew Huck wasn’t in her right mind that day to make such an outrageous claim, but also knew better than to push the issue.

Yevette focused on the current situation. “So why haven’t you eaten your breakfast?”

Huck patted the seat beside her. “Come sit, dear.”

“Not until you drink your orange juice.”

“The food here is inedible.”

“Not the juice.” Yevette handed her the glass. “Looks freshly squeezed.”

“You’re as persistent as Priscilla.” Huck took a sip and handed it back. “It’s delicious, but that’s all I want. Have Priscilla squeeze you a glass too.”

“Mother’s no longer with us,” Yevette said softly, then sat beside Huck. “Remember?”

“Yes,” Huck said. “She’s dead, you know. Priscilla.”

“I know.”

“So, so tragic. Her car hit by a drunk driver not long after Gabe died. Do you recall how badly I wanted to adopt you, promising you we’d stay together
from now on
?”

“I do.”
From now on
had become their special catch phrase.

“But since Priscilla’s sister Cynthia demanded to raise you, I was denied.”

“We’ve discussed it many times.” Yevette paused. She’d lived in Dallas with her aunt and uncle until she was of legal age, then moved back to Houston. “I have a question about something else.”

“Ask me anything, dear.”

“Before I was born, did Mother travel?”

“I suppose. We gave her a paid month off every summer.”

“Did she go out to Big Spring?”

“Big Spring?” Huck thought for a moment. “I believe she had friends there.”

“Was one of her friends … a man?”

Huck frowned. “Priscilla was much too friendly, much too trusting.”

“She never took me there with her. Why?”

“It was more convenient for you to stay with Gabe and me. My, didn’t we have fun.”

“More convenient? Or did she go to Big Spring because of the state mental hospital?”

“Hand me my juice, dear. I’m afraid my mouth is dry.”

“You’re avoiding my question, but I know the answer. Last week I was going through some of Mother’s papers and found her history of admittance and discharge forms.”

“Grief affects some more deeply than others. Even though your father died a hero, Priscilla suffered serious spells of depression. Gabe insisted we pay for her annual evaluation and treatment.”

“Rob Galloway wasn’t my natural father. Mother told me, remember?”

“That was far too much information for a child,” Huck said sharply. “Priscilla wasn’t good at keeping secrets.” Huck sipped the orange juice and stared out a large picture window.

Yevette continued. “Was my father a one-night affair?”

“It makes little difference, dear, because we have you.” Huck yawned and patted Yevette’s hand. “Priscilla had a weak moment indeed, but God blessed her anyway.”

And then took her from me
, Yevette thought,
as well as Gabe
. She glanced at Huck’s wrinkled face and swallowed hard.

A staff member knocked and entered. “It’s time for your bath, Mrs. Alexander.”

Yevette hugged Huck, then stood. “I’ll be on the road for a month. Don’t forget I’ll love you—”

“From now on,”
Huck finished, then grinned. “Perhaps when you return, Gabe will join us?”

“You never know.” Yevette waved good-bye. As she walked toward the lobby, she pictured her mother and the last time they’d been together, the memory still clear.

“Promise me you’ll trust only what’s genuine,”
Priscilla had said,
“only what’s real.”

“I promise.” Yevette smiled at the memory.

From now on.

May 1926

Houston, Texas

The first day of May dawned cloud-clear, riding the crest of a late spring cool front that drove every drop of humidity back out to sea. Huck Huckabee slid out of bed, closed her eyes, and raised the window shade in her private quarters at Mrs. Thompson’s boardinghouse. Fresh sunlight bathed her face. It was Saturday and she didn’t have to teach school. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet fragrance of magnolia blossoms. It was also May Day … the mystical day of
lovers
.