Who do i talk to, p.26
Who Do I Talk To?, page 26
I called Aunt Mercy at the library where she worked. She couldn’t talk long, but she promised to call the funeral home that had handled everything when my dad died. “I think my brother had prepaid funeral costs here for both him and Martha. I’ll call you back as soon as I find out anything . . . Oh, I finally got hold of Honor. She’s pretty broken up. But she sounded like she would come for the funeral—drive, I think. I don’t know about her boys. But I’ll call her back as soon as we can make plans.”
It was already past noon. I told the funeral director we had to talk with family and I’d be back soon. Jodi and I walked a few blocks until we found a tiny restaurant and ordered homemade vegetable soup. I wasn’t sure my stomach could handle anything heavier.
My cell phone rang halfway through my soup. Aunt Mercy. She was almost laughing. “Mr. Jacobs said, ‘Hogwash. Of course you can transport the body!’ He said all you need is a permit from the county—which the funeral home there can get for you—and a vehicle that will hold the casket. Period.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m not, sweetheart. Here’s the information you’ll need to fill out the permit. And I was right; your father prepaid for a casket, embalming—everything. There might be a few extra expenses since two funeral homes are involved, but the big things are covered. Jacobs said to tell your funeral director to call him if he has any questions.” I jotted down the information on a napkin, including Mr. Jacobs’s phone number. “And Gabby, as soon as you decide when you can get here, let me know so I can make arrangements for a service on this end. Celeste and Honor need to know when to arrive. And there are a lot of people here who were very fond of your mom and dad.”
Jodi was waiting impatiently for news, her soup getting cold. Even though she was in her forties, she whooped like a schoolkid when I told her what Aunt Mercy had said. “See? See what God can do, Gabby?” She shook her head in amazement. “To tell you the truth, I’m still surprised when God answers my prayers. Some faith, huh?”
“Well, don’t stop praying yet. I haven’t even asked Mabel—or the board—if I can use Moby Van for something personal like this. And that huge van must be a gas hog. Can’t imagine what the gas would cost all the way to North Dakota and back.”
Jodi pulled a stray strand of brown hair out of her mouth and chuckled. “A lot less than four thousand dollars, anyway!” She waved her soup spoon at me. “And I think we should go back and take apart Kirkland & Sons ‘discount package’ and see what it’d cost for just the things you actually need. You won’t need to use their chapel, unless . . .” She stopped and looked at me funny. “Gabby? I know you’re going to have a funeral service for your mom back in Minot, but there are a lot of people here who’ve come to know and love your mom. Especially at Manna House. Why don’t we plan something here for the staff and residents? Josh and Edesa got married in the multipurpose room at Manna House. I’m sure we could do a funeral. A memorial service to celebrate Martha’s life!”
I got a little teary. “I’d like that. I know Mom would like that too.”
We ate our soup in silence for a minute; then I put my spoon down. “I can’t do it. Can’t imagine driving my mom’s casket all the way to Minot by myself in that big ol’ van. You gotta admit, Jodi, it’s a little weird.”
Jodi turned her head and gazed out the restaurant window at the misty rain that had started since we’d arrived, almost as if she hadn’t heard me. Then, as if somebody had flipped her On button, she snatched up the bill for our soup and dug out a ten from her purse. She left both on the table. “You won’t have to. Come on. Let’s go.”
I scooted out of the booth and followed her out of the restaurant. “What do you mean, I won’t have to?”
She took my arm with a grin and started off down the sidewalk, ducking raindrops. “Because I’m going with you!”
chapter 37
Jodi Baxter and I came out of Mabel’s office just as the supper bell was ringing. I’d reviewed with the Manna House director all the plans we were proposing. First, a celebration service for my mom’s “homegoing” here at Manna House Thursday morning, open casket, everything. Followed by a repast supervised by Estelle. Then—if the board approved—loading the casket in Moby Van and driving to North Dakota, where I’d meet my sisters, have another funeral, and bury my mom beside my father in the Minot cemetery.
Mabel had been open to the idea of using the van but was noncommittal. But she was a hundred percent on board for hosting a memorial service for my mother at the shelter. “We’ll all miss Martha,” she’d said. “I think she fulfilled a grandmotherly role for a lot of the young women and kids the last few weeks.”
I gave Jodi a tight hug in the foyer as she got ready to leave. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today, Jodi. I mean, I can’t believe you got the funeral home costs shaved off ! That’s a huge help.”
She grinned. “Hey, it was fun seeing that funeral guy squirm. And don’t you worry about the van, Gabby. If the board nixes the idea of using Moby, maybe we can take our Caravan if we take out all the seats. I’ve been wanting to go see my folks in Des Moines anyway. We could stop there the first night. It’s on the way. Well . . . sorta.” Jodi peeked into the multipurpose room. “So where’s Dandy? I’d like to say good-bye to him. You know, Hero Dog worked his way into our hearts at the Baxter household that week you guys stayed with us.”
Good question. Angela had already gone for the day, but Carolyn was babysitting the phone and the door buzzer in the reception cubicle for the evening shift. “Hey, Carolyn. Have you seen Dandy or Lucy?”
Carolyn shrugged. “Haven’t seen either one.”
Jodi and I looked at each other. “I’m worried,” I said.
But when curfew rolled around, and Lucy still hadn’t come back with my mother’s dog, I started to get mad. That’s when I discovered Dandy’s food and water bowls, bag of kibbles, and Lucy’s cart were gone too.
I wished I’d gone home with Jodi Baxter again. My mother’s empty bunk—as well as Lucy’s and the empty dog bed—weighed on my spirit in the night like heavy stones. I finally took my pillow and blanket, found Sarge, and asked if I could sack out on a couch in the multipurpose room, just for tonight.
Sarge shook her finger at me. “Gabby Fairbanks, you break more rules than the rest of the women on the bed list put together! I know it’s tough losing your madre , so I’m gonna let you do it, but I’m waking you up before I ring the wake-up bell so nobody else gets a wise idea. Capisce? ”
I curled up on a couch in the corner, but my mind was still spinning. I still needed to call Lee Boyer and tell him about my changed circumstances. My next appointment with him was scheduled for tomorrow at eleven, but with everything I had to do, there was no way! Hopefully we could talk by phone . . .
Celeste had called me twice that evening. I told her how things were working out on this end. Awhile later she called to say she’d gotten a flight from Juneau to Billings, Montana, would meet up with Honor flying in from Los Angeles, and the two of them would rent a car and drive to Minot, arriving sometime on Friday.
“I’m impressed you two were able to coordinate that,” I’d said.
“Ha. Coordinate nothing. I bought her a ticket. She was talking about borrowing a car from a friend and driving straight through. I can just imagine some rattletrap with no muffler breaking down in the middle of the Mojave Desert, and we’d have to call in the state troopers to find her. Even if she didn’t, she’d probably show up two days after the funeral.”
That had made me laugh. Celeste wasn’t that far wrong.
I’d also called Mike Fairbanks to tell him about the funeral on Thursday morning here in Chicago, and that I’d be driving my mom’s body back to Minot, where we’d have a second funeral. “I wish the boys could come to the funeral in Minot, but I think they’d have to change planes, maybe even twice. I don’t really feel good about that.” And, I had to admit, it would probably cost more than going to Europe. Mike said okay, he’d call me back after checking flights to Chicago.
Now, as I lay staring at the ceiling fans slowing rotating overhead, I wished I’d asked if he’d spoken to Philip. I probably should call Philip myself, even if he had. “I trust in God, why should I be afraid?” the psalm said. Besides, shouldn’t I treat Philip like I’d like to be treated? At least let him know that my mother had passed.
But I drew the line at him coming to the funeral. Not that he would. But after the way he’d treated my mother, if he tried it, I’d probably sic Dandy on him and send him to the hospital like that midnight burglar.
Sometime during the night I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Sarge was shaking me awake and telling me to clear out of there before other residents started to come downstairs. She also handed me the first cup of steaming coffee out of the pot, and I managed to get through that Wednesday morning on constant refills.
I called Lee Boyer first thing, told him what had happened and that I had to cancel my appointment that morning. “But this changes everything, Lee. I can’t afford the apartment now . . .” I tried to steady my voice so I wouldn’t break down again. “And I don’t know what that means since I signed a contract. Can he sue me?”
“Now, Gabby, don’t worry about the contract. I know this guy; we’ll work something out. He owes me a few favors. But we do need to get you an address so we can file your custody petition with the court ASAP . . . Hey, look. Let’s not try to deal with that today. You just lost your mother; that’s enough to deal with. When you get back from Minot, we’ll get right on it. Trust me, Gabby. I’m working this for you.”
“Trust me, Gabby . . .” Why did that put a ruffle in my spirit? I felt confused about my feelings for this man. Lawyer? Friend? More than friend? But just then my call waiting beeped. The caller ID said Mike Fairbanks. “I’m sorry, Lee. Gotta take this. It’s my father-in-law.” I flipped over.
The call was short. Mike said he was bringing the boys to Chicago, they had a late flight that afternoon, and Philip was going to pick them up at O’Hare. “We’ll be staying overnight with Philip. I’ll get them to the funeral tomorrow morning, Gabby, and we’ll be returning tomorrow night. That way P. J. will only have to miss one day of lacrosse.”
I felt like screaming, What does lacrosse have to do with anything?! Even if I was leaving for North Dakota soon after the funeral, didn’t Philip want the boys to stay through the weekend? They could go back to Virginia Sunday night, and P. J. would still only miss two days of camp. But I bit back my sharp retort. Focus, Gabby, focus. Mike was bringing the boys to their grandmother’s funeral. I’d get to see my sons for those precious few hours, whether they stayed longer or not. That was all that mattered. “Thanks, Mike,” I managed. “I appreciate that you’re coming with them.”
Blinking back tears, I hustled into Mabel’s office, and we spent an hour roughing out a funeral service—Mom’s favorite scriptures, music, who might participate. “Type up what you want for an obituary, Gabby,” she told me, “and I’ll contact Peter and Avis Douglass, see if they’d be willing to officiate. Any of the residents you’d like to include somehow in the service?”
I shrugged. “Well, Lucy—if she comes back, and if I don’t kill her first for absconding with Dandy.” I threw open my hands in helpless frustration. “Should I go look for her? Call the police? I mean, I really do want to find Dandy.”
Mabel thought a moment, then fished her car keys out of her purse. “If you think you know where to look, be my guest.”
I took the keys but realized it was probably a hopeless cause. Lucy could be anywhere! She was a street person, after all. It wasn’t like she had a home and a workplace and a list of relatives and friends I could check out. But I did drive around the streets and through the alleys near Manna House, and even drove through Graceland Cemetery where I knew she often walked Dandy. Nothing.
Not sure why I found myself driving up Sheridan Road toward Richmond Towers, except that the park there along Lake Shore Drive was the place I’d first run into Lucy. Literally. Parking Mabel’s car in the visitor parking spaces along the frontage road where Richmond Towers faced the park, I resisted the urge to peek into the lobby and say hi to Mr. Bentley. Another time.
Walking the jogging path, I veered off through the mown grass to check under some of the lush bushes. Was this the one where I’d tripped over Lucy’s cart that day in the rain? I wasn’t sure . . . but it was stupid anyway. Why would Lucy crawl under a bush on a breezy, warm day like today?
But I still scanned the park, following the path through the pedestrian tunnel under the Drive and coming out just north of Foster Avenue Beach. That’s when I saw them . . . two familiar figures sitting on the two-tiered rock wall that led down to the strip of sand about a hundred yards to my left, a purple knit hat topping the dumpy body of Lucy Tucker, her arm draped around a yellow dog patiently sitting beside her.
I did not call to Dandy. Instead I quietly walked up beside them and sat down on the wall beside the dog. He immediately rose up, excited, licking me in the face and whimpering his greetings. “Hey, Dandy,” I said, scratching his rump. “Easy, now. How you doing, boy? . . . All right, all right, that’s enough. Sit . . . sit! That’s a good dog.”
Dandy flopped between me and Lucy, his brow wrinkled, as if unsure what was going on or what he should do. Lucy said nothing. I, too, just sat on the wall, watching the waves stirred up by the strong breeze coming off Lake Michigan, the horizon dotted with slender, white sails. The warmth of the sun on my head and the breeze running fingers through my unruly curls swaddled me in an oddly comforting cocoon, a momentary respite from death and funerals and—
“I was goin’ ta bring him back,” Lucy finally muttered.
I didn’t answer. Two seagulls fought over some tidbit in the shallows.
“We jus’ needed some time, the two of us, what with Miz Martha dyin’ off so sudden-like. Couldn’t get no peace back there! Ever’body yappin’ an’ cryin’ . . .”
Sitting there on that wall, my mad at Lucy sifted out of my spirit like so much dust. “I know. I got worried, though.”
Lucy sniffled and wiped her nose with a big, faded blue handkerchief she pulled out of somewhere. “S’pose ya gotta take him back with you.”
“Yeah. My boys are coming for their grandmother’s funeral tomorrow, and I know they’ll want to see Dandy. Paul, especially. He took care of Dandy for my mom when she was staying with us . . . kinda like you.”
Lucy’s head swiveled toward me. “What funeral?”
I told her our plans. A funeral at Manna House tomorrow morning, another in North Dakota, probably on Sunday. “My dad is buried there. We want to bury my mother beside him.”
Lucy slid off the wall and shuffled two or three steps until she stood right in front of me, a kaleidoscope of mismatched tops and bottoms. “How you gettin’ from here ta there?”
“Uh . . . driving. Mabel’s asking the board if I can use Moby Van.”
Lucy’s rheumy eyes bored into mine. “Takin’ Dandy?”
That brought me up short. I hadn’t thought about what to do with Dandy. The Baxters would probably be glad to take care of him—or even Lucy—for the five or six days I’d be gone. But somehow that didn’t seem right. Dandy was family, had been Mom’s companion for the past ten years. And that only begged the bigger question. What was I going to do with Dandy after the funeral?
If I had my apartment, I’d keep him myself. That would be a big draw for the boys—well, Paul, anyway—in coming back to Chicago. His own dog.
But I didn’t have an apartment. Didn’t know when I would get one either.
“Well?” Lucy put her hands on her hips and stuck her face close to mine. “I said, are ya takin’ Dandy back to Dakota ta bury your ma?”
“Yes!” I shot back. Well, why not, since we were driving.
“Okay then.” Lucy hauled herself up the big step onto the grass and wrestled her cart out from under a nearby bush. “I’m goin’ too.”
chapter 38
Lucy would not be dissuaded. I almost hoped we’d have to take the Baxter minivan so I could honestly tell her there wouldn’t be any extra seats—but when I got back to the shelter with Lucy and Dandy, Mabel had left a note for me on my desk:
Gabby—good news! The board is granting permission to use Moby Van to transport Martha Shepherd’s casket, since she died while a resident of Manna House, and since there wouldn’t BE a van except for Dandy. All they ask is that you cover gas and any out-of-pocket expenses. Have a safe trip!
My skin prickled. This was good news—so why did I feel a tinge of panic? The whole idea was crazy! Driving cross-country with a casket in the back of a van the size of a small bus. Paying for gas and expenses . . . certainly a reasonable request. But where was it going to come from? My credit cards were dead. I’d have to use my debit card, which would take money right out of my bank account. I’d just have to keep a close watch so that I didn’t drain my account completely.
And now what excuse could I give to Lucy? Even if we took out enough seats to accommodate the casket, there’d still be enough room for me, Jodi, Dandy, and Lucy.
I grabbed the note and poked my head out the door. I’d ask Estelle what I should do. Lunch was over, but Delores Enriques was still packing up her portable medical clinic in a corner of the dining room. Two of the residents whose names I didn’t know were wiping tables and sweeping the floor. Estelle was bustling around the kitchen with a larger-than-normal crew.
“Hola, Gabby.” Delores paused her packing and scurried over to give me a hug. “I am so sorry to hear about your mother. My own mother lives in Mexico, but it’s been five years since I have seen her. Now . . . I think I should go. One never knows how short life is.”
I hugged her tight. “I know. Thanks, Delores. I hope you can go see your mom. The last few weeks I had with my mother were precious.” I let her go, then turned back. “Say, I met your son, José, last Sunday. At SouledOut. Such a good-looking boy! He was with Amanda Bax—”
