More Than You Know (23 page)

35

“
I
’ll be back tomorrow,” Gretchen Taylor said, lightly touching her son’s hand. “Lily’s coming, too, and we’ll bring something good for lunch.” Lily was Matt’s younger sister; she was a teacher in Providence. The thought of seeing her made Matt smile, but it ended up looking more like a cringe because it made his face hurt.

Gretchen took Isak aside and spoke quietly, “Don’t worry about a thing, dear. He’ll be fine. My advice comes from the heart. When my mother died unexpectedly, I was newly married and living abroad. I didn’t come home for her service because I thought it was too far—and I’ve always regretted it. In hindsight, I know now that distance and time are simply abstract obstacles that truly don’t matter. All that matters is being there for your loved ones.” She gave Isak a hug and smiled at Margaret. “Of course, it always helps to have someone who’ll get you where you need to be. Are you ready, Margaret?” she asked, looking at her watch. “We might still have time for dinner and a martini at the White Horse,” she added, winking at Isak.

Isak gave Margaret a hug too. “Thank you for making the trip,” she said.

Margaret smiled. “It was my pleasure, dear. I’m very sorry to hear about your mom, but I’m glad Matthew’s going to be okay. You have a lot on your plate right now and I’ll be keeping you in my prayers.”

After they left, Isak sat in the chair next to the bed. “Your mom is such a classic,” she said.

Matt nodded and whispered hoarsely, “I’m sorry I can’t be there tomorrow. . . .”

Isak reached for his hand. “Don’t think twice about it! You know me—I can handle it!” She looked at the bruises on his face and added softly, “What I wouldn’t be able to handle . . . is living without you.”

Matt managed a lopsided grin and squeezed her hand.

“I love you, you know. . . .” she whispered.

He nodded. “I love you too.”

36

“
M
y parents come here on Wednesday nights sometimes,” Micah said, shifting Charlotte from one hip to the other as they waited in line for ice cream. “Kimball’s has a car cruise and my dad says it’s a lot of fun. I told him it would be even more fun if he restored his old Chevy pickup. I’ve even offered to help him, but he never seems to have the time.”

“Well, maybe he will now that you’re home,” Beryl replied, trying to decide what flavor she wanted.

He laughed. “Well, I don’t want to live at home forever. I’d like to find a place of our own, but I guess it all depends on that teaching job.”

“That
would
be great. I think you’d make a wonderful teacher.” The line moved up and she looked up at all the flavors. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“Yup, I’m living on the wild side: vanilla and chocolate twist.” He looked at Charlotte. “Char, what kind of ice cream are you having?” She gave him a classic look that said,
Da-ad! You know what I’m having!
“Hmm,” he teased, “are you having black raspberry?” She shook her head emphatically, swinging her blond curls back and forth. “Are you having piña colada?” She responded with more head shaking. “I know! Vanilla . . .” Charlotte looked dismayed and then, concluding that her dad really couldn’t remember, whispered in his ear. “Ohh! Chocolate!” She nodded and then buried her face shyly in his shoulder. “What should Beryl have?” Charlotte whispered in his ear again and he grinned. “Chocolate too?!” Charlotte nodded.

“Hmm, you’re a woman after my own heart, Charlotte Coleman,” Beryl said with a smile. Charlotte looked puzzled, not sure what that meant.

They all sat down at a picnic table with their ice-cream cones and sundaes. Tommy had also ordered a Ranchburger and fries, which he devoured in six bites.

“Oh, my goodness!” Rumer exclaimed, watching him eat. “Your mom wasn’t kidding!”

He laughed and, without missing a beat, tucked into his ice cream.

Charlotte loved being with all the big kids and abandoned her father to sit between Meghan and Rand. “How’s your ice cream?” Meghan asked.

“Good,” Charlotte said with a chocolate grin.

“Chocolate’s my favorite flavor, too,” Rand explained, “but I haven’t had black raspberry in, like, forever.”

Micah licked his cone and watched Charlotte blossoming in the company of other kids. He was glad she’d be starting kindergarten in the fall; she was ready and he wasn’t as anxious about it now that it looked like she’d be going to his elementary alma mater.

They finished their ice cream and Beryl and Micah each held one of Charlotte’s hands as they walked to their cars, swinging her every few steps. “I’m glad you guys could come,” Beryl said.

“Me too.”

“So . . . I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yup, I’ll be there.”

“Will you read my eulogy if I need you to?”

“If you need me to, but I bet you’ll be able to do it. Who else is speaking?”

“Tommy . . . and I’m sure he’ll be fine—nothing seems to faze him.”

“You’ll be fine too.”

Beryl looked unconvinced and gloomy.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “You are an amazing woman, Beryl Graham—just like your mom, and you will do an amazing job. I’m sure of it. Just remember, she’ll be listening, too, so just pretend you’re talking to her.”

Beryl laughed. “That’ll be tough to do with all those people looking at me!”

“I’m sure you’ll make her proud.”

“Thanks, Micah,” she said, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

37

B
eryl woke to the sound of laughter and voices coming from the kitchen. She looked at the bright sunshine streaming through the window, and with a sinking feeling remembered what day it was. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a blue-sky day, Mum,” she whispered, feeling her stomach twist into knots. “Oh, how I wish I could just go for a long hike today. And when I got home, this would all be over.”

“Who’re you talking to, Aunt Ber?” Meghan asked, sitting up sleepily and rubbing her eyes. Beryl looked over in surprise, remembering that Meghan had claimed Rumer’s bed last night when she’d decided to sleep in the spare bedroom with Will.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Beryl said, sitting up. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was awake. I didn’t sleep very well. It’s hard to get comfortable because, every time I move, my whole arm hurts.”

“You should’ve said something. I’m sure you could’ve taken more pain medicine.”

“To be honest, I’m trying not to take it. Doesn’t it make you constipated?”

Beryl laughed. “Sometimes, but once you stop taking it, everything gets back to normal. If you’re in that much pain, you should take it.”

“Maybe,” Meghan said, still sounding unconvinced.

“Anyway, I was just talking to myself again!”

Meghan laughed. “I do that all the time. After all, who understands better?”

Beryl laughed too. “That’s true!” She pushed off her cover. “Are you coming down for breakfast?”

Meghan nodded. “Yup, I’ll be right down.”

“Do you need help with anything?” Beryl asked, slipping on a robe.

“Not yet, but I’ll probably need help getting dressed later.”

“Okay, just let me know.”

 

By ten o’clock, Will, Tommy, and Rand were showered, dressed, and gathered in the kitchen. Will glanced at his watch impatiently. “Ru, we need to get going,” he called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Be right down,” she called back. “Is Isak here yet?”

Will looked out the window again. “No, we’re just going to have to meet her there.”

“Dad,” Rand moaned, tugging at his tie. “Can you help me with this stupid tie?”

“I’ll help you,” Tommy volunteered, popping the last bite of his third piece of coffee cake in his mouth. He stood behind Rand in front of the mirror by the door and deftly showed him how to tie a perfect Windsor knot. “I used to have to wear a tie to school every day when I was your age.”

“No way!” Rand exclaimed.

“Way,” Tommy said with a grin. “I can do it blindfolded . . . and in my sleep.”

“You cannot!”

“Can!” Tommy said, ruffling Rand’s hair. Rand ducked away and just about knocked over his Aunt Isak, who was coming through the door, looking tired and wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing for three days.

“Hi, guys!” she said, catching him and hurrying past them and up the stairs. Beryl, Rumer, and Meghan all stopped on the stairs. “Hi, sweetie,” she said, slowing down when she reached Meghan. “How’re you feeling?”

Meghan smiled. “Hi, Mom. Better, thanks. How’s Dad?”

“A little better,” Isak said, continuing up. “Go on without me,” she called as she pulled off her clothes and left a trail behind her. “I’ll be along.”

They all looked at each other and Beryl said, “You guys go. I’ll wait. I want to look over my eulogy again anyway.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, remembering the handwritten paper he’d tucked in his jeans. “Thanks for reminding me!” Beryl and Rumer looked at each other with raised eyebrows as Tommy came back into the kitchen, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his sports coat. “Don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I memorized it.”

“I wish I had mine memorized,” Beryl murmured, looking down at her paper and feeling a rabble of butterflies taking off in her stomach.

“Okay, Ber, we’ll see you there,” Rumer said, giving her a quick hug.

“Unless I get lost somewhere,” Beryl said with a smile.

“You’ll be fine,” Rumer assured her. “And if you absolutely can’t do it, Micah said he would.”

“You can do it, Aunt Ber,” Tommy encouraged. “Just think about how much you loved her.”

“Oh, my goodness, Tommy, that’ll really make me cry.”

“No, it won’t—trust me—and I’ll be right behind you.”

Beryl gave him a hug. “Thank you, hon.” Then she suddenly started to remember all the things she’d planned to check on when they got to the church. “Ru, do you have the poster boards with the pictures?”

“Yup, they’re right here,” Rumer said, holding them up.

“You guys did such a great job,” Beryl said, smiling at Meghan, Tommy, and Rand.

“Thanks,” they all said in unison.

“What about the stands to hold them?”

Will held them up.

“The hydrangea?”

Tommy scooped it off the counter and held it up, too, and Beryl looked at Ru. “Okay, just put everything in the fellowship hall. There should be an empty table set up in the corner with a tablecloth on it. If you don’t see it, ask Reverend Peterson; he’ll show you. And make sure someone has put the prayer cards in the sanctuary, and the programs too. I’m sure they’ve taken care of all that, but just check. And make sure Mr. O’Leary put the box Micah’s dad made in the front of the sanctuary. Oh, maybe I should just come with you,” she said, beginning to sound panicked.

“Ber, calm down,” Rumer said reassuringly. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure we can handle it.”

“But we
do
need to get going,” Will said impatiently.

“Okay, go. But don’t go into the sanctuary until we get there. Remember, Reverend Peterson said family should wait in back.”

Rumer nodded. “Got it—is Micah sitting with us?”

Beryl shook her head. “I asked him, but he said he was going to sit with his parents. Will, are your parents coming?”

“They are, but they’re not sitting with us.”

“Okay. Set up the display. Check cards. Check with Mr. O’Leary. Wait in back room.” Rumer looked at everyone. “Got it?”

“Got it,” they all answered, edging toward the door.

“Get Isak moving!” Rumer said, eyeing her.

“Got it!” Beryl said with a tearful grin. “See you in a few . . .”

“Don’t start,” Rumer said, pulling her sister into a hug and whispering, “because you’ll get me started.” She stepped back and held her sister at arm’s length. “Did you remember to wear waterproof mascara?”

Beryl nodded. “You?”

“Yup,” she nodded as an exasperated Will physically guided her out the door. “Have Isak bring the Preparation H—just in case,” she called over her shoulder.

Beryl watched them from the porch and smiled as Will asked, “What in the world do you need Preparation H for?”

After they pulled away, it dawned on Beryl that Flan had not been underfoot during their whole extended good-bye.
Where is she?
She called her name and noticed a ball of black-and-white fur waddle around the shed. Suddenly, a strong odor drifted toward the porch. “Oh, no!” she groaned. “Flan, where are you?” she demanded. The stout little dog, completely oblivious to the significance of the day, marched out of the woods and trundled up the steps and onto the porch. She looked up at Beryl with her panting, happy,
here I am
smile, and the rank odor that emanated from her fur just about bowled Beryl over. “Oh, Flan! What am I going to do with you?”

“What is that awful smell?” Isak called from the kitchen.

Beryl shook her head in dismay. “It’s Mum’s way of reminding us not to take life so seriously. Fortunately, I don’t think it was a direct hit—this dog is way too happy.”

38

“
O
h, my,” Beryl murmured, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as they pulled up to the church. Isak drove slowly past, looking for a parking spot, but there were cars everywhere—on the grass, all along both sides of the road, and the parking lot was packed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. O’Leary waving to them from behind the church and quickly pulled in. He’d saved a spot for them!

As they hurried into the back of the church, Beryl sniffed her hands and groaned. “They still smell,” she said, holding her fingertips in front of Isak’s nose.

Isak turned her head while pushing her sister’s hand away. “That’s Mum’s way of helping you get through her eulogy,” she said with a grin.

“Very funny,” Beryl said.

When Ru saw them, her face looked relieved. “What happened?” she asked in a hushed tone. Beryl held her hand in front of her nose. “Oh, no!” Rumer whispered. “How’d that happen?”

“I’ll give you one guess,” Beryl said.

Reverend Peterson came over and handed them each a program. “Is this everyone now?” he asked.

Beryl looked around. “Yes.” Then she looked up at the clock—it was ten after eleven. “I’m sorry we’re late.”

He nodded and then quickly reminded everyone that the front rows were reserved for them, and when the service was over, they should file up the center aisle to the front doors and form a receiving line in the vestibule. They all nodded and he opened the door to lead them in.

The organ was playing a somber hymn and their eyes swept the room in astonishment—the sanctuary was filled to capacity, including the balcony, and there were more people standing along the back wall. Beryl quickly scanned the crowd, looking for Micah, but she couldn’t spot him. They solemnly filed into the pews, and when they were seated, Reverend Peterson began to speak.

Beryl tried to concentrate, but she suddenly felt very light-headed and queasy. She looked over at Meghan and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. Tommy put his arm around his little sister. As they stood to sing the first hymn, Beryl noticed the small wooden box in the front of the sanctuary and, realizing what it was, covered her mouth in surprise. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the intricately inlaid design. It was beautiful!

Through the blur of her tears, she looked back down at her hymnal and began to softly sing her mom’s favorite hymn, “Here I Am, Lord,” and when they reached the last verse, she wiped her eyes and felt an overwhelming sense of peace. She looked around the sanctuary and saw all of the people she knew, singing and dabbing their eyes too. She found Micah and he smiled; she saw his parents and Will’s parents, the teachers from the elementary school who’d brought over the food, the ladies from the thrift store, all of her mom’s friends from church, customers who frequented the shop, and several of the nurses from the nursing home. Beryl suddenly realized that every single person in this sacred place loved Mia Graham—and they’d all come to celebrate her life. All at once she knew with certainty that she would be able to share her memories of her mom . . . and if she cried, so be it.

After the second hymn, Tommy walked purposefully up to the pulpit and flashed his famous boyish grin. “He looks so much like Matt,” Beryl whispered to Isak, who nodded and wiped her eyes.

Tommy looked out at everyone and then looked heavenward. “I’m impressed, Gram! You have more friends in this church than I have on Facebook!” Everyone chuckled and he continued to speak from his heart without ever pulling the wrinkled paper out of his pocket, and as he spoke, the mood in the room lifted from somber and solemn to lighthearted and loving. Tommy had everyone laughing as he shared delightful memories of his childhood and spending a couple of weeks every summer in the creaky, old New England house that had “way too many creepy hiding places for monsters.” He also reminisced about trying to fall asleep in a tent in the backyard after Gram had told them “some pretty scary ghost stories,” so much so that he and Meghan usually scampered to the house because it actually felt safer.

Whether playing board games or outdoor games, he described his Gram as a ruthless competitor who never showed mercy or had qualms about whacking her young opponents’ croquet ball all the way to Timbuktu or sending their most forward Parcheesi piece back to Start. He said he hoped people weren’t fooled by her quiet disposition, “Because a friendly game of checkers could really bring out her true colors!” Everyone laughed as they pictured petite Mia Graham smacking her croquet mallet against the ball pressed under her foot, causing the adjacent ball to speed off into the woods or, worse, the pond as her forlorn grandchildren looked on.

Tommy smiled and waited until the chuckles died down before reminiscing about his grandmother’s wonderful cooking talents. He spoke wistfully of his favorite dishes—from lasagna to apple pie—until everyone’s mouths were salivating. He also said that Gram could make the most amazing cinnamon toast, and he described it in such wonderful detail that everyone planned on having some as soon as they got home. “Sadly,” he said, dashing their thoughts, “Gram’s toast cannot be replicated. Believe me, I’ve tried! I don’t know why, but there was just something about the way she made it—maybe it was her toaster.” He smiled at his mom, cupped his hands around his mouth, and whispered, “Make sure you get the toaster.” At which everyone laughed.

Tommy smiled again and shook his head. “Right up to the end, Gram was a great lady. She has given me some of my best memories . . .” He bit his lip, blinking back tears. “And I’m going to miss her very much,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.

Beryl gave him a thumbs-up, took a deep breath, and waited to be introduced. Tommy stepped back, and when she came up, she gave him a hug. “You did great!” she whispered. He smiled, and she turned around and stood in front of the pulpit with her heart pounding. “Kids,” she said, pulling the microphone down to her level, “even big ones, are always hard acts to follow.” Everyone chuckled and she immediately started to feel at ease. She looked around at the sea of familiar faces, pausing on each one. “Thank you
all
for coming,” she said in a voice that was calm and sincere. “Mum would have loved seeing each and every one of you.” She looked along the back wall at the latecomers; then her eyes paused on the face of an older gentleman sitting in the last pew. He had a thick mane of snow-white hair and there was a cane leaning against the end of the pew. Their eyes met and he smiled, and Beryl bit her lip, blinking back tears; she hesitated for so long that those sitting near him turned to look. Finally, she managed to smile back and then looked away.

“My friend Micah,” she began, “has assured me that Mum is looking down on us today, smiling, and I think he’s right—because, from where I’m standing, I can see her sweet countenance reflected in all of your lovely faces. My dear mom has touched many lives with her kindness and friendship, her guidance and wisdom, her loyalty and love—and that is all evident today.” She paused to look down at her paper.

“I’ve spent many hours this week staring at a blank piece of paper, trying to put my thoughts together, and trying to put her life in a nutshell. After many false starts, I finally decided to write a letter to her . . . and once I started, I couldn’t stop the words from coming.” She looked up and laughed. “In fact, I could hardly keep up!” Everyone chuckled and she paused. “I’d like to share it with you. . . .

“Dearest Mum, I’m writing to you today in honor of the celebration of your life! Over this past week, besides trying to figure out what I want to say today, I’ve also been trying to figure out how I’m going to manage without you.” She paused and looked up. “And I’ve finally come to realize that the best way to carry on ... is to try to live as you did.

“Mum, you were an inspiration to so many people. You lived your life with grace, courage, determination, and faith, and when life threw you a curve ball, you swung at it with all your might. In your lifetime, you faced more than your share of tragedy and heartache . . . and through it all, you never stopped smiling. No matter what, you were always ready to give a helping hand—even when you were the one who needed help.

“You had a big heart and you opened it wide to every four-legged beast that waddled, sauntered, or hopped into our lives—from Hemingway, the handsome golden retriever you rescued when we were little, to Flannery, the homely, stubborn bulldog you fell in love with after we’d moved out. There was Emily, Keats, Robert, Beston, and Thoreau—not to mention the countless other felines, bunnies, and birds that came in to warm by our fire and ended up staying for the rest of their lives. In the spring when you went for a walk, we always wondered what you’d come home with—sometimes you’d be cradling a frog that you thought would enjoy living in our pond, and other times you’d have an injured bird in the pocket of your jacket that needed a little ‘TLC,’ as you called it.

“Mum, you lived every day to the fullest and you tried to teach us to do the same. You always said, ‘Don’t postpone life!’ and you underscored this favorite phrase with example. When Dad died, you had his big shoes to fill and you did it well. You took us sledding, skiing, swimming, and hiking; you tucked us in at night and read to us for hours—
The Secret Garden, Little Women, Little House in the Big Woods, Pippi Longstocking,
and
Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle
were just some of the stories you gave us to love. You taught us how to mend clothes, make a piecrust, properly brew a pot of tea, and how to patiently simmer (for hours!) the Italian gravy that has been in our family for generations. And you tried, on countless occasions, to teach us the secret to your cinnamon toast. Oh, and by the way, Tommy, I already shod-died the toaster,” she teased, turning to grin at her nephew, who laughed and shook his head.

“Mum,” she continued, “you loved to garden, and you could be found outside early every spring and summer morning, wearing your famous straw hat and Muck boots, pulling weeds, mulching, pruning, transplanting, and watering. In the fall, you’d be out there in your big L.L. Bean flannel shirt, planting bulbs, turning the compost pile, and getting your roses ready for winter. You knew the name of every plant—and if you didn’t, you’d pull out your flower book, marred with muddy fingerprints, and promptly look up the blossom that had you puzzled. The Internet would have been a wonderful source for your inquiries, if you’d only had the chance to embrace it as you did every other source of knowledge.

“Mum, you always found ways to give back to your community—whether it was by volunteering at the elementary school and helping little ones learn to read or heading up the church fair to raise money for mission work. I never heard you say, ‘No,’ or ‘I’m too busy.’ ”

Beryl paused and bit her lip. “One of the images that stays with me, though, is the sweet smile you always gave me whenever I said I had to go after visiting you in the nursing home. I’ll never forget the love in your eyes, and in spite of the terrible illness that was taking you away from us, I’m thankful I never truly saw that light diminish.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke, and Tommy stepped up beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. She smiled and brushed her tears away. “Mum, your life was—and will always be—one of the most radiant parts of God’s tapestry, and we’re all going to miss you”—Beryl looked up at all the tear-stained, smiling faces and whispered—“more than you know.”

 

After Beryl took her seat, the rest of the service was a blur, and when it ended, she had no recollection of walking up the aisle—it almost felt as if she’d somehow floated to the back of the church to join her family in the receiving line. Everyone told her she’d done a wonderful job; many others said they couldn’t have possibly gotten through such a moving reading; and still others commented on how much she reminded them of Mia. Beryl smiled, hugged, and thanked each one. Finally, Micah and his parents came through, and Beryl gave them long hugs and thanked his dad for the lovely box.

There was a lull in the line and the grandchildren took advantage of it, slipping off to see what there was to eat. In the moment of quiet, Beryl looked down the aisle of the church, waiting for the older gentleman who’d been sitting in the back pew to approach them. When the nurses from the nursing home had come through, they’d pointed to him and whispered, “That’s the old fellow who used to visit your mom.” Beryl had nodded and, as she looked for him now, she saw him lay his hand on the box and then slowly turn to make his way toward them. He stopped in front of Isak and Rumer, and, in an unmistakable British accent, said how sorry he was. They both nodded in barefaced astonishment before managing to thank him. He turned away and, with tears in his eyes, smiled at Beryl. “You must be Blueberry,” he said with a slow smile and a twinkle in his eyes. Beryl nodded, not knowing what to say. “You are so much like your mum,” he said, taking her hands. “I almost thought you were she.” He paused. “You truly captured her essence with your words.”

“Thank you,” Beryl said softly.

With a trembling hand, he reached up to push back his silvery hair. “Your mum was a very special lady and I miss her deeply.”

Beryl nodded.

He hesitated uncertainly, searching her eyes. “There’s something I’ve been deliberating over . . . it’s something I wanted to ask you . . . but I don’t know if I should and I don’t want to cause any trouble. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” Beryl said, taking his arm.