“I won’t tell you I’m not disappointed.” He paused. “But son, you need to do the right thing and stand by the girl. She’s going to have the baby, right?”
“Right. She doesn’t want an abortion.”
“Well, let her know that we’ll do whatever we can to help.”
Three months later they were on that golf course again when John asked about the girl, and Aaron broke down.
“She lost the baby, Dad.” Aaron had swiped at his tears, embarrassed at the show of emotion.
“I’m sorry, son.” His father had faced him and put an arm on his shoulder.
“I know it wasn’t right what we did.” They were far out on the seventh tee where no one could see them at that early hour of the morning. “But I was ready to love that child. I don’t know, Dad. It’s like I miss him. Even though I never knew him. Do you think I’m crazy to feel that way?”
Aaron would always remember the compassion in his father’s eyes at that moment. “Son, an unborn child is a child nevertheless. I understand your pain.”
No one but he and his father knew about the lost child. And that morning his dad shared something with Aaron that he said he hadn’t shared with his other children.
“Your mother had a miscarriage once, too,” he said softly. “It was two years after Megan was born and your mother was already five months pregnant. The baby was a boy.”
There were tears in his father’s eyes. The two hugged and Aaron felt like a little boy again, safe in his daddy’s arms.
When they pulled apart, his father smiled sadly. “Believe me, I understand how you feel. A week doesn’t go by when I don’t think about your brother, how old he would be, what he’d be doing now.”
Aaron thought of a hundred other such moments he and his dad had shared on the golf course. Even when he began having bouts of rage and punching holes in his bedroom door, his father would forgive him and in a few days the two would be back out playing golf.
On the course, Aaron would apologize and his dad would shrug. “Forget about it, son,” he would say. “I love you. I always will.”
Then he and Aaron would spend another morning talking and teeing off.
But there was something Aaron never said to his father, and the knowledge of that omission burned at Aaron’s soul. He had run out of time. His father was gone, and in all their years together, through all the feelings Aaron had shared with no one else, he never once had the courage to tell his father the most important thing of all.
It was growing dark and the course was becoming more difficult to see. Finally, knowing that he would explode if he didn’t give in to his desperate grief, Aaron grabbed the steering wheel and laid his head on his forearm.
There, finally, he cried.
Torrents of angry tears spilled from his heart as he remembered the man he had loved and admired, the man who had known him as no one else had. He would give anything, he thought, to be here in the morning with his father preparing to shoot nine holes of golf. Just once more.
He sobbed violently, remembering the hateful things he had said in anger, wanting desperately to take them back. He remembered the last thing he had said to his father …
Thursday night Megan and his parents had been watching television. For once he didn’t have a date so he’d gotten dressed in his jeans and boots and made plans to meet his buddies at Denim ‘N Duds, a country dance club just out of town. He was running late and as he headed for the door he did not intend to waste time telling his parents good-bye.
But his father heard him leaving.
“Son? You going out?” Dad called from the den, his voice pleasant.
“Yeah. Dancing.” Aaron leaned into view and cast an impatient look at his father.
“Okay. Have fun.” Just before Aaron turned away he caught his father’s smile. That warm, full-faced smile that assured Aaron he was loved beyond anything most sons would ever know.
He could have stopped then and said good-bye or wished his father a good night in return. But instead he turned away and walked out the door. That was it. The last time he saw his father alive. His last chance to say the most important words … words he had never shared with his father.
Aaron squeezed his eyes tight, but he could not shut out the truth. His father was gone and there was no more time. No time to say the one thing that should have been said.
“Why?” Aaron shouted, slamming his hands down on his steering wheel. There was a cracking sound and he looked at the wheel. A hairline split ran along the top.
Good. Who cares? Who cares about anything?
He climbed out of his truck then, walked around to the back, and jerked open the tailgate. There inside were his golf clubs, a complete set that his father had given him four years ago for Christmas. Angry, nearly blinded by his tears, Aaron pulled the bag from the truck bed and flung it toward the edge of the hill overlooking the course. He strode angrily toward the fallen clubs and then, one at a time, he hurled them with all his might toward the ninth fairway.
When he was finished, when the bag he had toted alongside his father’s was completely empty, he sat down on the grassy hill and sobbed. The rage was gone. Minutes became an hour until finally he gazed out toward the golf course again and pulled himself up. For a moment, in his mind’s eye, he thought he could see his father in the shadows. Yes, there he was. Waving to him, calling him to come down and play some golf.
“Dad!” Aaron yelled. “Daaaaad!”
“Son?” The image was fading and his father seemed to be having trouble hearing him. “What are you saying, son?”
“Daaad!” Aaron shouted as the image faded completely. “Dad … I love you!”
His words echoed over the empty golf course, ricocheted off the sturdy maple trees, and faded softly into the gentle breeze that drifted off the bay.
13
No one said anything to Aaron when he returned to the Barrett home that evening. Instead, his arrival at just before eleven o’clock gave the others a reason to turn in for the night. At Megan’s apartment, Ellen and Jane were politely civil but the strain between them was mounting. When they made it through the night without an argument Ellen sank onto her bed with a relieved sigh.
The next day their mother had plans with Aunt Mary, so the three oldest sisters took the children to the park, talked about their father, and shopped for the week’s groceries. Remarkably, there were no blowups between Ellen and Jane. It was late afternoon before they reported back to their parents’ home. Amy and Frank arrived moments later.
“I brought dinner,” Amy said as she struggled through the doorway. She and Frank carried sacks of submarine sandwiches and potato chips.
Her mother hugged her gratefully. “Thank you. This is wonderful.” She took the bags and moved them toward the dining room table. “Perfect timing. I had no idea what to fix tonight.”
Jane busied herself feeding the children while Ellen, Megan, and Aaron silently helped themselves to a sandwich and found a place in the living room. Amy and Frank passed out drinks and then sat down at the dining room table, turning their chairs to face the others.
“Do we know what we’re doing for the service?” Amy’s tone was soft. “I have a few ideas.”
Ellen studied her youngest sister. Amy’s comments were always made tentatively. She was extremely sensitive to what others thought of her opinions and she had been known to suddenly leave a gathering if she felt offended. As far back as any of them could remember, Amy rarely interjected her opinion in a conversation, and now that she wanted to talk everyone sat a bit straighter and gave her their attention.
“We have a lot to discuss and I want input from all of you children.” Their mom had fixed a plate and joined Amy and Frank at the table. “I thought we could get together tomorrow and spend the day working out the details.”
“Fine,” Ellen and Megan said in unison, and Aaron grunted his approval.
“Of course … ” Jane said, “I don’t know what I’ll do with the kids
. They’re good, but they can’t sit still for most of the day while we talk. I guess I’ll—”
“Jane,” their mother interrupted. “Relax. Aunt Mary will watch the children. She told me she’d be at Megan’s apartment first thing in the morning and stay with them all day if necessary.”
Jane’s chin lifted defiantly, and Ellen and Megan exchanged a quick glance. “Well, if that’s in order,” Jane said, “then fine.” She placed the rest of her sandwich on the plate and stood to gather her things.
“Where are you going?” Amy looked at her.
“If we’re going to be here all day tomorrow I think we should make it an early night. I want to spend some time with the children.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to talk about music. I remembered last night that Dad really liked that one song, you know, about the rugged cross, the one where—”
“Amy,” Jane looked down at her youngest sister as if she were a small child in need of a reprimand. “That’s why we’re getting together tomorrow. To talk about rugged crosses and everything that goes with them.”
Amy was quiet for a moment, and from where she sat across the room Ellen knew instinctively that Jane had gone too far. The youngest Barrett daughter turned to her husband and nodded. In an instant they were on their feet, headed for the door.
“Amy, you don’t have to go just because Jane’s leaving.” Their mom stood up too. She put a comforting arm across Amy’s shoulders.
Ellen raised her eyebrows and stared at the floor. She hated the way their mother treated her youngest sister like a baby. Amy was twenty-five years old and a married woman, after all. Still, the moment things didn’t go Amy’s way, Mom was immediately at her side, making her feel better.
“I’m leaving,” Amy announced to her mother. “If Jane doesn’t want me to talk about the service, I won’t talk at all.”
“What?” Jane shrieked. “I didn’t say anything to make you leave. Don’t blame me for your weird behavior.”
“See!” Amy said to her mother. Tears filled her eyes and she looked overwhelmed. “We can only talk about something if it’s okay with Jane.” She wheeled around and faced Jane, who was standing nearby with her mouth open in mock astonishment. “Jane, nobody made you the boss of this family. Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?”
“Whatever! I was only stating a fact. This isn’t the time to talk about rugged crosses. That’s why we’re getting together tomorrow.”
“But if I want to talk about rugged crosses today, then I’ll talk about rugged crosses today!”
Jane’s hands flew to her hips and her face grew red. “That’s right, Amy. I forgot you were so sensitive about every little thing. I guess we should all just walk around watching what we say. Wouldn’t want to hurt little Amy’s feelings, now would we?”
Ellen cringed and glanced into the kitchen, wishing she could escape. Jane had definitely stepped over the line with that last comment. Megan and Aaron had moved to the table and were busy eating their sandwiches, pretending not to hear.
“Jane!” Mom fired a scolding look at her second daughter. She had positioned herself between the two sisters, ever the peacemaker. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Come on, Frank.” Amy took her husband’s hand and turned to her mother. “Forget about tomorrow.” She looked angrily at Jane. “I won’t be where I’m not wanted.”
“Amy, don’t say that.” Their mother followed Amy and Frank to the front door and out into the warm evening. “I want us all here tomorrow. It would mean so much to your father and—”
Her voice grew faint as she trailed after them, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the Barrett home. Jane remained in the center of the room while the others looked at her expectantly.
“Well, what’s everyone looking at?” she demanded. “Come on, Megan, Ellen. Let’s get the kids and go. Obviously I am not wanted around here.”
Ellen stood up and stretched, hoping some of her anxiety would dissipate when she got back to Megan’s apartment. Then she gathered her things and those of the children. Just as they were about to leave, their mom returned. Everyone could see she had been crying.
“Don’t worry, Mother, I’m leaving.” Jane spat the bitter words as she moved toward the front door, the baby on her hip. “I wouldn’t want to upset your precious Amy.”
Ellen wanted to kick Jane, to make her think about what she was saying. She looked at her mother, worried, but Mom just drew closer to Jane and took her daughter’s face in her hands. “I love all of you girls very much, Jane. But I wish you could make more of an effort to get along. You know how sensitive Amy is.”
“I know, but I think we need to stop babying her. It’s a bit ridiculous.”
“Maybe you’re right. But there must be a better time to deal with her than the week of your father’s funeral. We have a lot to do tomorrow, and I want all of you here.”
“Is she coming?” Jane’s disgust was clear in her voice.
“I hope so. But please, girls—” Mom looked at Ellen and Megan—“try to get along tomorrow.”
“Don’t look at me, Mom, I’m doing everything I can,” Ellen said. She was carrying Kala and hoped they could get out the door soon. “Why would I come all the way from Miami just to fight with everyone? I want us all to get along, too.”
“Right.” Jane muttered under her breath, casting a look at Ellen.
Ellen stared at Jane, wondering yet again what she had done to make her sister so angry, so resentful of her.
She glanced at her mother to see her eyes had filled with tears once more and she seemed on the verge of losing control.
“See, Jane?” Mom pointed out. “That’s what I mean. That wasn’t necessary. Comments like that tear us apart at a time when we should be holding each other up.”
Jane sighed and looked suddenly sheepish. After several seconds she spoke and this time her voice was humble. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I must be tired. Besides, no one ever sees any of this from my point of view.… ”
Ellen exchanged a knowing glance with Megan. Jane’s behavior could not be written off just because she was tired. She had been rude and unkind through much of the evening and there was no excuse for her attitude. Ellen shifted her weight, adjusting the child she still held in her arms. She watched Jane impatiently and waited for her to finish so they could leave.
“I didn’t mean to upset Amy,” Jane continued. “But it’ll be hard enough for everyone to spend an entire day planning Dad’s funeral. The last thing I want to do is spend tonight talking about it, too.”
Mom nodded and put her arms around Jane. “I understand. It’s hard for me, too. He was my husband, remember?” She looked at Ellen and her sisters. “I’m going to ask that you girls do everything you can to get along tomorrow and the rest of the week. Understand?”
Jane nodded and returned her mother’s hug.
“Ellen?” Mom asked.
“Sure. I’ll try. That’s all I can do.”
While they were saying good-bye, Aaron stood up and left. “Honey, are you going somewhere?” Mom asked as he slipped past them and headed for his truck.
“Out.”
The Barrett women watched in silence as he drove away. “He probably just needs time alone, Mom,” Jane said. “Don’t worry about him.”
“I know. Go ahead now, go home and get some rest before tomorrow.”
The moon was full and there was a warm glow over the sleepy neighborhood as Megan, Ellen, Jane, and the children left for the night. Diane watched them go and then went back inside. She shut the door and locked it. Her sister, Mary, had a key and would be over later to spend the evening with her.
She closed her eyes and realized how consuming silence could be. That was one sound that had seldom filled her home. There had always been family parties, barbecues, jam-making sessions, and dozens of kids filling the halls with laughter. Life at the Barretts’ had been a whirlwind of activity, with John always at the center.
; Diane looked at the empty living room and thought how sad and lonely a house full of memories could be. She picked up a photograph of her and John at Amy’s wedding and studied it. She could still picture him as he walked Amy down the aisle. And Jane, and Ellen before that.
For just an instant she was angry with John, angry that he hadn’t heeded the doctors’ warnings and given up smoking, angry that he hadn’t changed his eating habits. If he had loved them, why hadn’t he taken care of himself? He would be alive today if only he’d had the will to change.
Then, just as quickly the anger disappeared. Diane’s tears fell onto the glass frame and she carefully rubbed them off with the edge of her faded cotton blouse.
“John, my love,” she whispered. “What am I going to do without you?”
That night in a small house three miles away, Frank was doing all he could to comfort Amy, but he was having little success. She had locked herself in the bathroom and was sobbing so hard Frank thought she might pass out. She had already vomited twice, and Frank wondered if she was having a nervous breakdown.
“Amy, please! Come out here so we can talk.” He had been trying to get her out since they got home. His voice was gentle but firm. “We can’t talk about it while you’re in there.”
“No! It’s my problem, Frank! My family has always treated me this way. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“But I love you,” he said softly. “I want to help. Come out so I can hold you.”
Finally, after fifteen minutes of pleading with her, Amy opened the door and collapsed in Frank’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to shut you out.”
He led her to their bed in the middle of the room and with one arm around her waist he sat down beside her. “Tell me about it, Amy. I’m here for you. I’ll listen.”
Amy struggled to calm herself. “It’s been like that for years.” Her breathing came in short, fast bursts. “Wh-whenever I say anything or try to make a suggestion, someone cuts me off. It’s … it’s like my opinion isn’t worth anything because I’m the youngest.”