More Than You Know (7 page)

9

“I
think Mum would be happy with the hymns we chose,” Beryl said, climbing into the back of the Mustang. “She always loved ‘Here I Am, Lord’—and cried every time we sang it in church.” She pulled the seat back for Rumer to get in and looked out the window. “She loved ‘Spirit of Gentleness’ and ‘There Is a Balm in Gilead’ too,” she added softly.

“Those hymns are all perfect,” Rumer agreed.

“I think Tommy might be willing to give a eulogy,” Isak said, turning the key. The engine rumbled to life. “He has a lot of memories from spending summers with Mum when he was little. But I think we should ask someone else too.”

“I wish I could say something,” Beryl mused, “but I’m afraid I’d never get through it. Maybe I’ll write something and let someone else read it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Rumer said.

“I think Meghan would be willing to read one of the Scriptures,” Isak added. “Would Rand want to?”

Rumer swallowed. “I don’t know, Isak. He’s kind of young and his reading skills aren’t the best, and I . . . I’m not even sure they’re coming.”

Isak looked over at her sister and just about drove off the road. “What? Why?”

“Hey!” Rumer said, reaching for the handle above her head. “Watch where you’re going!”

Isak looked back at the road. “By the way, where are we going? Are you two hungry?”

“A little,” Rumer said.

Beryl looked out the window. “I bought salad and stuff.”

Isak glanced over her shoulder. “We have all week to eat at the house. Why don’t we just go to Harlow’s? It would be quick and easy—and my treat.”

Beryl hesitated and then remembered the Avocado Bliss sandwich on the Harlow’s Pub’s menu. “Fine with me,” she said. “But afterward I have to stop at the shop.”

Isak and Rumer looked at each other. “Thoreau!” they said in unison.

“Why don’t we just bring that poor cat back to the house for the week?” Rumer asked. “He’s going to be lonely with the shop closed.”

“Actually, I hadn’t decided if I was going to close,” Beryl confessed. She was already beginning to feel like she might need a break from her sisters, and the shop would be the perfect excuse.

“Ber, you have to—we have so much to do,” Rumer said. “Just put a sign in the window. Your customers will understand.”

Isak nodded as she parked near the restaurant. “One week won’t break the business.”

“It might.”

“Well, if it does,” she quipped, “you’ll have more time for what you’re supposed to be doing—writing!” As they got out of the car, she eyed Rumer. “Now, what do you mean you don’t know if they’re coming? It’s his grandmother and he better be coming!”

“It’s not that simple,” Rumer said as she passed through the open door of the pub.

“It is that simple,” Isak countered, smiling at the hostess. “Three, please.”

The restaurant was crowded, but the hostess showed them to a table that had just been cleared. “Your waitress will be right with you,” she said with a warm smile, handing them menus.

“Rumer, I don’t want to hear some lame excuse about money. You’re about to come into money, and if you need some until that happens, just say so.”

Rumer shook her head. “Will does not want to bor—”

“Will needs to get over himself,” Isak interrupted dismissively. “He always thinks he has to carry the world on his shoulders. There was a time when he was fun to be around, when he didn’t take life so seriously—whatever happened to that Will?”

“I guess I happened to him,” Rumer replied edgily. “You know, Isak, you’re awfully quick to judge people. Not everyone has had the world handed to them.”

Their waitress appeared. “Hey, ladies! My name’s Lexie. Would you like to start with something to drink?”

Isak looked questioningly at her sisters, and Rumer quickly scanned the beverage list. “Hmm, I’ll have a Sam Adams—Alpine Spring, if you have it.” Lexie nodded and turned to Beryl.

“I think I’ll have an iced t . . .” she started, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Isak shaking her head and quickly changed her mind. “I’ll have a Corona with lime.”

Isak chuckled and, giving their waitress a conspiratorial grin, said, “I’ll have a Grey Goose and soda with a twist of lemon. Thanks, Lexie.”

Beryl took a deep breath and felt like kicking her—hard! Isak was as overbearing as ever.

“Anyway, we’ll make airline reservations on my card and you can pay me back whenever. And now that we know that it’s definitely going to be Saturday, they can come out on Friday and they’ll only miss one day of work and school.”

Rumer sighed; she was already dreading the conversation she’d be having with Will.

Lexie returned with their drinks. “Ready to order?”

“I am,” Beryl said.

Rumer groaned, “No, I haven’t even looked.” She reached up to tuck the loose strands of her wispy blond hair behind her ears and opened her menu.

“I guess we’ll need a couple minutes,” Isak said, reaching for her drink.

“No problem,” Lexie said. “I’ll come back.”

Rumer looked up. “What are you having?”

“An Avocado Bliss.” Beryl pointed to where it was on the menu.

“And . . . what are you havin’?” Rumer queried, looking at Isak.

Isak sipped her drink. “An Avocado Bliss,” she said with a grin.

Rumer closed her menu. “You guys should’ve said so!” She took a sip of her beer, leaned back, and finally seemed to relax. Lexie came back and they ordered chips ’n’ salsa and three of their famous avocado sandwiches.

Beryl squeezed her lime and pushed it down into the neck of her bottle. It dropped into the clear bottle and fizzed. She took a sip and licked her lips, savoring the lime juice on the rim.

Rumer glanced around the room and her eyes stopped at a table in the corner. “Ber, isn’t that Micah Coleman?”

Beryl followed her gaze and nodded. “It is,” she said with a smile. As she said this, Micah looked up and smiled at her; a moment later, he stood and reached for his jacket and an older couple and a little blond-haired girl stood too. Beryl watched the older gentleman hand Micah the little girl’s jacket, and Micah knelt down and helped her slip it on. Then he reached for her hand and led the little girl across the room to their table.

“Hi, Ber,” he said.

Beryl stood up, smiling, and gave Micah a hug. “Hi,” came her soft reply. “I got your message and I was going to call you as soon as we finalized everything.”

Micah nodded and looked over at Isak and Rumer too. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. Rumer and Isak hadn’t seen Micah in years, but they immediately remembered him as the quiet boy who’d worked in their mom’s shop.

“Thank you,” they replied.

Micah turned as the older couple came up behind him. “Do you remember Beryl?” he asked.

“Of course,” they said, smiling and giving her a hug.

“We know all the Graham girls, Micah,” his dad teased, winking at them. “You do remember that I taught English and coached cross-country at the high school they attended?” Isak and Rumer both laughed and started to stand, but Asa Coleman put up his hand. “Stay put. We just came over to say hello and how sorry we are. Your mom was a sweet lady . . . and she certainly knew her tea!”

Maddie Coleman smiled too. “Your mom was such a lovely lady and a dear friend. She used to come into school and help the first graders with their reading. She was a generous soul and we all miss her.”

Beryl smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Coleman,” she said. Then she looked down at the little girl clinging to Micah’s leg. “Who is your little pal?”

Micah scooped her up onto his hip. “This,” he said with a grin, “is Charlotte.”

“Hi, Charlotte,” Beryl said softly.

The little girl blinked at her with solemn blue eyes and Micah asked, “Can you say ‘hi’?”

“Hi,” the little girl whispered, then buried her face in the collar of Micah’s jacket.

Just then, Lexie came out from the kitchen with their appetizer and some plates, and Micah realized they hadn’t eaten. “Well, I guess we’d better let you guys have your dinner.”

Beryl smiled. “Micah, I’m not sure if you’re planning to come . . . but the service is this Saturday at eleven.”

“Okay, thanks.”

They said good-bye and Charlotte waved shyly over her father’s shoulder. Beryl waved back, and when she sat down, Isak and Rumer both looked at her quizzically.

“What?” Beryl asked.

“He called you?”

“Yup,” Beryl said matter-of-factly, reaching for a tortilla chip and dipping it in one of the salsas. “He just wanted to say how sorry he was and find out about the arrangements.”

Isak looked at Rumer. “
You
saw the look on his face, right?”

Rumer nodded. “Mmm-hmm,” she said, reaching for a chip.

“What are you talking about?” Beryl asked, frowning.

“The way he looked at you,” Isak said.

“Don’t be silly,” she protested. “Micah’s married and owns a bookstore in Quincy Market.”

Rumer shook her head. “Uh-uh,” she said with her mouth full.

“Ber, Micah’s wife passed away three years ago,” Isak said. “She was diagnosed with cancer right after they found out she was pregnant, and she refused to have any treatment because she didn’t want to jeopardize the baby’s health. She died six months after the baby was born, and now Micah’s raising that sweet little girl all by himself.”

“He doesn’t own the book store anymore either,” Rumer added. “I think he’s working for a small publisher.”

“How do you know all this?” Beryl was incredulous. How did her sisters know more about Micah Coleman than she did?

“Facebook,” Rumer said. “I told you to join.”

Beryl groaned. “I have no interest in joining Facebook. I manage just fine keeping in touch with the people I care about.”

Isak looked up. “And who are these people?”

Beryl took a sip of her beer and tried to think of some names.

Rumer grinned and teased affectionately, “Well, Ber, there’s always Millie, Ethel, Ruth, Betty . . .” Beryl gave Rumer a wilting look that clearly said shut up and Isak looked puzzled, but Rumer quickly covered her tracks. “I was just teasing. . . .”

Lexie appeared with their sandwiches and asked if they needed anything.

“I’ll have another drink, please,” Isak said, eyeing her sisters’ beers, which were still three-quarters full. “How about you two lightweights?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Rumer said. “Ber, you know how to drive stick, right?”

“Yup,” she answered with a grin.

“So,” Isak said, ignoring the comment and eyeing Beryl curiously, “when was the last time you saw Micah?”

Beryl shook her head and held up one finger while she swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “Mmmm . . . the last time I saw him was when Mum and I went to Boston for her first appointment, and that has to be”—she looked down, calculating—“almost three years ago . . .”

“Well, the years haven’t touched him. He’s still cute and I love his glasses,” Rumer commented.

“Just look at his father,” Isak mused. “I had a wicked crush on Mr. Coleman when we were in high school, and now he must be in his early seventies and he’s still incredibly good looking.” She sighed. “Some men age like fine wine—they just get better. And it’s genetic, Ber. Micah looks exactly like his dad did when I had him for English, so he’ll probably be good looking when he’s old too.”

Rumer took a bite of her sandwich. “Did you and Micah ever date?”

Beryl shook her head and took a sip of her beer. “Nope . . . just friends.”

“Didn’t he have a crush on you, though? I vaguely remember hearing that he was going to ask you to the prom.”

“I don’t know where you heard that, but he never did.”

“Who did you go with?” Rumer asked. “I can’t remember.”

Beryl took a sip of her beer. “Jimmy Dixon.”

“Oh, yeah, now I remember.”

“How could you forget?” Beryl teased. “You were just talking about how cute he was.”

“Well, maybe that’s why Micah didn’t ask you—maybe Jimmy beat him to it.” Rumer paused thoughtfully. “Did Micah even go to the prom?”

“I don’t think so,” Beryl said thoughtfully. “He was still working at the shop when I left to get ready.”

“That explains it,” Rumer announced with absolute certainty.

“Maybe it also explains how Jimmy Dixon turned out to be gay,” Isak teased.

“No way!” Beryl exclaimed. “How do you know that?”

“How do you think?” Isak asked.

Beryl looked puzzled, but then saw the goofy looks on her sisters’ faces and groaned. “Facebook . . .”

10

B
eryl hung a small sign on the window of the door, switched off the lights, and, carrying a box of chamomile in one hand while cradling Thoreau in her arms, locked the door. “Don’t you have a cat carrier?” Rumer asked.

“It’s at my apartment and he hates it,” Beryl answered, setting the old cat gently on Rumer’s lap. “Don’t worry, he likes riding in the car.”

She walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Isak was sulking in back because, after her second drink, they’d refused to let her drive. “That’s all we need in the paper: ‘Woman Returns Home for Mother’s Funeral and Is Arrested for DUI.’ ”

“Especially with what happened to Dad, Isak, Mum would turn in her grave—and she’s not even buried yet.”

Isak had resisted but soon discovered she had no choice. “Whatever,” she grumbled, climbing into the backseat.

As they drove, Thoreau peered over Rumer’s shoulder, realized there was a third person in the car, and jumped in back to say hello. Isak spoke softly to him and stroked his head. “Do you think animals know when their owner has died?”

“I don’t know,” Beryl said. “Thoreau hasn’t seen Mum in a long time, but he was definitely more attentive and affectionate with her before she went into the nursing home. It was almost as if he knew there was something going on.” She paused. “It’s hard to tell with Flan, though. She’s had time to adjust to living with me—but she loved visiting Mum in the nursing home.”

“You took her to visit Mum?” Isak asked in surprise.

“Yup,” Beryl answered, looking in the rearview mirror and watching Isak gently stroking Thoreau’s soft head. “Maybe you and Matt should get a pet to fill your empty nest.”

“Matt and I should get something,” Isak said, “but I don’t think it’s a pet. Counseling might be better.”

Rumer glanced over her shoulder. “It can’t be that bad. Matt’s a great guy and he worships the ground you walk on.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Isak mused. “I don’t know,” she said sadly. “Lately, I keep thinking I really need to eradicate the word
sad
from my mind, because it feels like it’s becoming my daily mental mantra—sad, sad, sad. I never seem to look forward to anything.”

Beryl eyed her sister with new concern. “Maybe you should mention this to your doctor; there are things that help with depression. Maybe it’s not you and Matt—maybe it’s you.”

Isak shook her head. “I don’t want to take anything.”

“Isak,” Rumer said, “you do know alcohol is a depressant, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a yawn, “but I don’t care—having a glass of wine at night is the only thing I do look forward to.”

“Well, it sounds like you both just need some time to adjust to not having the kids around,” Beryl said. “It’s a shock to any marriage. You never know, you might enjoy it.”

“I don’t know about that. I still take out four plates when I’m setting the table—and Tommy’s been in college for three years!”

They pulled into the yard and heard the familiar chorus of peepers, whose song had reached a feverish crescendo on the warm spring night. “That sound will always remind me of this place,” Rumer said wistfully. “I wish we didn’t have to sell it.”

As they walked up to the house, they heard a long insect-like
beeeep
coming from the edge of the woods. Every few seconds, at regular intervals, it happened again—and then, from across the driveway, a second long
beeeep
replied. “What is that?” Isak whispered.

“It’s a pair of woodcocks,” Beryl said softly. “That was another of Mum’s favorite sounds.” She unlocked the door to let Flan out and the woodcocks grew quiet, but they soon resumed their conversation.

When she came back in with Flan, Beryl asked them if they’d like a cup of chamomile, but they both shook their heads and retreated—Rumer to the porch and Isak to her old bedroom—to call home. Beryl put the kettle on and plopped a tea bag into a large mug with the words
World’s Best Mom
painted on its side. She sat down on Flan’s bed and leaned back against the oven, waiting for the water to heat. The old dog immediately wriggled onto her back for a belly rub, and Beryl obliged and thought about Micah and the news her sisters had shared. It was so sad that his wife had died at such a young age, leaving him to raise their little girl alone. It was almost like her mom’s situation.

The teakettle started to sing and she pulled herself up. She could hear Rumer on the porch, arguing with Will, and she whispered a prayer that her sister and her husband would find some way to work things out.