Circle of grace, p.36
Circle of Grace, page 36
Grace smiled down at her and pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. “That’ll preach.”
“You think so?”
“I can’t speak for your congregation,” Grace said. “But I sure like it.”
Ear-splitting explosions precluded further conversation, and as Grace watched the blazing showers of multicolored stars raining down over the river, she marveled at how Claire’s mind worked. The grandeur and magic and mystery of human life, which mirrored, like lights on the water, a greater light.
The fireworks went on for nearly an hour. At last, to a chorus of oohs and ahhs, a climactic final burst of rockets ignited, shot into the sky, and filled the air with fiery blossoms of blue and green and red and gold. No one moved or spoke until the last of the sparks had trailed down the night sky and extinguished themselves in the river.
As usual, they had saved the best for last.
“Are you sure you want to drive home?” Hal asked as he let Grace out in the lot where she had parked. “Traffic’s going to be awful. We could all go together, and come back to get your car tomorrow.”
“That’s too much trouble,” Grace said. “Go on ahead. I’ll just be a few minutes behind you.”
Hal waited until Grace unlocked her minivan and started the engine, then waved and exited the parking lot. She sat there for a few minutes with the motor idling. It had been a perfect day, and she was filled with a sense of well-being—an emotion so new that it still took her by surprise. She could almost feel the dark tentacles inside her chest letting go, exiting her body like smoke, like something evil exorcised and banished.
On the passenger seat beside her lay the legal pad she had used earlier in the day. She pulled her will from its hiding place between the last page and the cardboard backing of the pad. Grace had thought that writing a will would be a morbid, depressing experience, a brutal reminder of her own impending mortality. Instead, it had freed her, somehow, from the fear of leaving this world without saying I love you.
She fingered the envelope and tapped its stiff edge on her thigh. With a little luck—or mercy, she corrected herself—this document wouldn’t be needed for a long time.
Traffic was still creeping along, clogged in the parking lot and out onto the main road. Grace put the van into reverse and backed out. Behind her, a driver in a white Buick laid on the horn and shook his fist at her.
The process of getting out of the park was infuriatingly slow. Grace drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as the line of cars snaked toward the intersection of Park Road.
Finally, after an interminable ten minutes of stop-and-go, she pulled into the turn lane at the light. Park Road was also congested, but at least traffic here was moving. When the arrow turned green, Grace made a left onto the main road.
She heard the squeal of tires, the blare of a horn. As if in slow motion, her head swiveled to the left, and two enormous beams of light, right at eye level, blinded her.
There was a deafening crunch of metal slamming into metal. A scream. The shattering of glass.
Then darkness closed in, a liquid warmth, and silence.
Tess slumped in a chair in the ICU waiting area, and tears stung her eyes. She had known this day was coming. She just hadn’t expected it to come so soon—or so violently.
The elevator dinged, and the steel doors slid open to reveal Hal, flanked by Claire and four other women.
“Liz! Lovey!” Tess jumped up and lunged at them, her tears flowing freely now. “I’m so glad you’re here!” She caught Serena’s eye over Liz’s shoulder. “You too, Serena.”
Her eyes drifted to the young woman who had arrived with them. She was a bit older than Claire, and stood back from the group, her head lowered, as if willing herself not to intrude.
The girl had strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that made her look younger than perhaps she was. But something about the eyes seemed familiar. “Is this—” She took a breath. “Is this Grace’s daughter?”
“No.” Liz shook her head. “I’m afraid every lead we had in that direction came up empty. This is Emily Ryerson, Grace’s half sister.”
“I went to UNCA,” Emily murmured miserably, “and worked in the registrar’s office afterward. Lived in Asheville since I was eighteen. And I never knew. She was so…so close.”
“Do you have any other family, Emily?” Claire asked gently.
The girl bit her lip. “Mama was killed in the wreck with Grace’s father—our father. Aunt Bette, my mother’s only sister, raised me, but she passed away a few years back. I wanted to meet Grace again, before—you know…”
“Before she died.”
“Right. She was so nice to me when I was little, that one time we met, even though seeing me must have been a terrible shock for her. I had thought that with time—” She shrugged. “I’m supposed to be getting married in the spring, although I’m not really sure about it. I guess I kind of hoped we could get acquainted. Like having a big sister to talk to…”
Emily’s words dwindled off into silence, and Liz turned toward Tess. “How is she?”
“Bad,” Tess said. “I asked to sit with her, to let her know she’s not alone. But the rules in ICU are pretty strict, and they won’t allow me much time.”
“We’ll see about that,” Liz said.
A nurse clad in salmon-colored scrubs came down the hall and paused in the doorway of the waiting area. “You’re here for Grace Benedict?”
Liz spoke up. “Yes, and we want to see her.”
The nurse scrutinized Liz as if she were a lab specimen. “Family only.”
Liz took a step forward and eyed the woman’s name tag. “We want to see her…Hildy,” she repeated in a tone that dared the nurse to contradict her. “Now.”
Despite the tension of the moment, Tess had to suppress a grin.
The nurse peered at Liz. “Are you kin?”
“This is Grace’s sister.” Liz pointed at Emily. “And we’re the rest of her family. We’ve just flown in from all over the country.”
“She’s been given a lot of painkillers,” Nurse Hildy said. “She won’t know—”
“She will know,” Liz countered. “She’ll know she’s loved.”
The nurse’s expression softened. “Maybe you’re right. Come on, I’ll let you go in. But only for a few minutes.”
Hal and Serena stayed behind in the waiting room while Tess, Liz, Lovey, Claire, and Emily trooped off behind Hildy toward the critical care unit.
“Five minutes,” the nurse said in a hushed voice as they crowded into the glass-walled enclosure.
Grace’s eyes were sunken, her skin pallid. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Hildy inspected the various mechanical devices hooked up to Grace’s deathly still form, tapped on the tube coming from the IV, checked the heart monitor. “She’s breathing on her own. That’s a good sign. But I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.”
“Thank you, Hildy.” Liz lifted an eyebrow. “Underneath all that starch, you’re a good person.”
“I’m an idiot,” Hildy responded mildly. “And if anyone finds all of you in here, I don’t know a thing about it. Otherwise I’ll be an unemployed idiot.”
When the nurse was gone, Claire drew her mother aside and backed into a corner of the room. “I need to tell you something, Mother. In case Grace wakes up.”
Tess shook her head. “There’s not much chance of that, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe not, but still—” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m pretty sure Grace believes—”
“That you’re the daughter she gave up for adoption.”
“You know?” Claire’s eyes went wide.
“It’s pretty obvious. She loves you like a mother.”
“Mom, I didn’t encourage this. But then, I didn’t discourage it either. I never confronted her about it.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Tess said, linking her arm through her daughter’s. “You’re much too empathetic and openhearted to undermine another person’s faith.” She peered into Claire’s face. “Do you believe it’s true?”
Claire shook her head. “No, I don’t believe she’s my birth mother. Still, if she regained consciousness and said something, I didn’t want you to think—”
Tess put an arm around Claire’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Give her whatever you have to give,” she said. “Love her. There’s always enough to go around.”
Grace tried to move, but the pain was too intense—a throbbing inside her skull, a scalp-splitting agony. One side of her chest was on fire, a razor-sharp sword between her ribs. It took a monumental effort just to open her eyes.
Liz. And Tess. And Lovey.
And someone else—she didn’t know who.
“We’re all here, Grace,” a quiet voice said.
A rush of love and gratitude surged into her, and she turned, just slightly, to see Claire standing to her right.
“There was an accident,” Tess said, pushing a bit of hair back from Grace’s temple. “But you’re going to be fine now.”
It was a lie, and Grace knew it. But it was a compassionate lie. Besides, she didn’t have the strength to argue.
Lovey held a straw to her lips. Cool water dribbled down her chin. Some of it got into her mouth and freed her tongue.
Her eyes slid toward the one unfamiliar face in the room. “Who—?”
“I’m Emily,” she said. “Little Emmy, remember? Your father’s—” She hesitated. “Your father’s other daughter.”
“Yes,” Grace slurred. “Gave you ice cream. I was so…angry. Betrayed.”
“Me too,” Emily said fiercely. “At least once I was old enough to understand. I hated him—still do. Hate what he did to you and your mother. Hate what he did to my mother, and to me. I met this guy, see, and I want to get married, but I’m afraid—”
Grace finally was able to get her right hand to move, and she lifted it slightly from the bed. “Forgive,” she whispered. “Live.” She fixed her gaze on Claire. “Help her.”
“I will.” Claire moved in closer, and Grace saw the truth reflected in her eyes.
She knows, Grace thought. Knows I’m dying. What she doesn’t know is how grateful I am for being given the chance to live….
“Grace,” Claire said, “I feel as if I’ve known you forever. Like a big sister. Another mother. I love you, Grace. I’ll never forget you.”
It was agonizing to smile, but Grace couldn’t help herself. “I love you too,” she said with effort. “You helped me find myself again. Find hope. Find faith.”
Tears began to spill down Claire’s cheeks.
“It’s all right,” Grace whispered. There was no time left, no time for all the things she longed to say. How their love, their acceptance, had made life worth living. How blessed she was to have had the past six months with them. How freeing it was to leave this world with no condemnation, no regrets.
She longed to wipe Claire’s tears away, but she couldn’t reach. “I’m ready.”
She looked down and saw Claire’s hand squeeze hers, a touch without feeling. The room around her began to dim. A weight pressed in on her chest, pushing her down, forcing the air from her body. She fought back. One minute. One more minute.
“I love you all,” she gasped between breaths. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Then the light came, flowing over and around her like liquid gold. She could see their faces, haloed by the shimmering glow. Never in her life had she felt so unfettered, so free, so whole. A healing, comforting warmth spread through her as the rays around them grew brighter. She could barely see their faces now, but she knew they were there. They had always been there, these friends. Around her, inside her.
Earth’s gravity fell away, a heavy cloak slipping from Grace’s shoulders. Weightless, her soul rose as if they were lifting her, these friends of hers—not with their arms, but with their hearts. Lifting her to the light.
This was no permanent parting. She knew it as certainly as she knew that she belonged. Love like this was stronger than death, more brilliant than any darkness.
Grace smiled without effort, without pain, as the last pale shadows of those beloved faces absorbed into the light.
She closed her eyes, inhaled one final, liberating breath, and surrendered.
EPILOGUE
THE LAST GOOD-BYE
Claire Riley-Hopkins stood on the crest of Craggy Point and looked out over the watershed valley toward the horizon. Clouds were rolling in from the south, and in the distance the mountains stretched toward infinity. Layer upon layer of October reds and yellows and golds, the ornaments of autumn’s glory.
This grass-covered rise was the very spot where Grace had opened her heart and shared her truth with her friends. A sanctuary, her mother had called it. A temple.
Claire had been to these mountains a time or two in her childhood and youth, visiting her grandparents in Black Mountain. But she had never considered, until this moment, how vividly they reflected both divine and human nature. Crevices of darkness, illuminated peaks, shifting shade from the wind-rushed billows—a never-ending spectacle of change in a landscape that had stood immutable for thousands of years.
The sun vanished behind a bank of clouds, and an early-morning breeze lifted her hair and flapped at the stole she wore around her neck. White, a symbol of resurrection. The yoke of Christ. But in this place, on this occasion, it did not feel like an easy burden.
She turned back and gazed at the group assembled there—her father and mother, her grandparents. Liz and Serena. Lovey and Bo. Emily Ryerson and her fiancé, Curt. Heads bowed in prayer or thought or meditation, they clustered silently around the urn that held Grace Benedict’s ashes.
This would not be a traditional memorial service. No Burial Rites from the Book of Common Prayer, no petitions for mercy upon Grace’s eternal soul. Claire had determined that this farewell would be exactly what Grace wanted it to be—a celebration of her spiritual transformation, a gentle passing to the other side.
Claire had become a priest not because she had all the answers, but because she had a calling, a passion for helping people articulate their questions and find their own way. She had realized, almost from the beginning, that Grace believed her to be the daughter she had given up for adoption so long ago. Claire herself did not share this opinion, and yet she had been content not to challenge Grace’s conviction, or to obsess too much about the answer. People needed anchors for their faith, and sometimes those anchors were manifested in flesh and blood.
Grace’s death stirred many old dilemmas in Claire’s spirit, questions raised during seminary, about how—or if—God intervened in the course of human life. It had taken some serious soul searching to decide what she ought to say at this memorial service.
Everyone was waiting, looking up at her. It was time.
“Grace Benedict knew she was dying,” Claire said, “and that realization led her to make a radical decision about her life. She determined that no matter what the cost, she didn’t want to die alone and in shame, as she had lived. And so she took a risk—she contacted three old friends from college and set up a reunion with them.” Claire inclined her head toward Liz and Lovey and her mother. “That reunion—Grace’s honesty, her vulnerability—changed everything.”
No one spoke, but her mother nodded in her direction, and Claire continued. “As it turned out, Grace’s end came suddenly, only six months after making that life-changing decision—not as the result of cancer, but in an unexpected and terrible accident. We all wish her time with us had been longer, and that her death had come more gently. But because she knew her days were short, Grace was able to summon the strength and will of a person who has nothing left to lose. She opened herself completely—to us, and ultimately to the source of all hope. She let herself love and be loved. She reclaimed her soul and discovered what it means to live in trust. She made a choice. She chose life.
“Those of us who embrace religious faith often talk far too freely about divine will and direction, as if we can push back the curtains of eternity and understand the mind of God. We crawl around in a maze of questions, searching for a way out, looking for someone to praise or blame.
“But life is not a maze; it’s a labyrinth. We walk, and keep on walking. Sometimes the path leads us far afield from the center, and sometimes very close. When we come to a turn, we’re never quite sure which direction the switchback will take us. But we don’t have to worry about finding the ‘one right way.’ We don’t have to figure out the answers. In a labyrinth there are no dead ends. We simply continue on the path in faith that it will bring us to the center.”
Claire gazed down at the hammered copper of Grace’s urn. “It’s human nature to try to find explanations for the inexplicable. We ask why. But we are not given to know those answers. We know only that a diagnosis of cancer became a vehicle of blessing, launching a series of events that brought Grace Benedict to a place of peace and hope and confidence before her days on this earth came to an end.”
She took in a breath and cleared her throat. “I believe Grace learned something in the process that she would want us to know. She learned that life is brief—too brief for anything but authenticity. I believe she would want us to open our eyes, to be aware, to embrace every moment, to live honestly in the presence of love.”
Claire looked up and saw her father gazing down at her mother. Her grandparents had their arms around each other. Liz and Serena were holding hands, as were Lovey and Bo. Curt’s arm gripped Emily’s shoulder.
“And so we—her family—gather here on this mountain to celebrate her life, to offer thanks for the fulfillment and joy she experienced, and to covenant with her and with one another that we will not forget the lessons she has to teach us. We will remember Grace Benedict, not by the struggles and pain of her life, but by the faithful way she ended it.”
