WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 31, 2007
SHE MET GERALD MURRAY OUTSIDE the Alibi Creek Store, and in addition to her desk key, gave him a list of files and contracts to review, offering to be available for any questions. He nodded, more solemn than she, even though it was the day of Mother’s funeral.
Celebrating Mother’s life rather than mourning its loss called for a bit of color. The dresses, skirts, and blouses in Lee Ann’s closet ranged from neutral to neutral, a shade darker or duller than the garment hanging next to it. A pale blue suit bought in a fit of spring fever was inappropriate for the season, but came closest to honoring Mother. She held it up in front of the mirror. It was the right color, but plain.
Danielle had left two boxes of discarded belongings on Mother’s front porch, which Lee Ann had labeled Thrift Store. She rummaged through them and headed home with a silver and turquoise necklace, a deep red scarf with gold thread running through it, and a sparkly rhinestone pin. She was fiddling with the scarf, adjusting it looser and tighter, when Dee came in with the mail.
“There’s something here from Dad.”
The envelope was small, one used to mail checks. This, instead of his presence. This, instead of a phone call. Today, of all days.
“I need to be alone,” she said.
Dear Lee Ann,
Dee has been here and told me the day of Kay’s funeral. I don’t have to tell you your mother was a remarkable woman. Duties prevent me from attending the service, but I will be with you and the family in thought.
Eu
The handwriting was slightly slanted and neat, as if the sentences had been composed on a lined pad. He always signed his notes Eu. She wanted Love, Eu. She smelled the paper and the envelope. They smelled like paper and an envelope. Give me more. Give me a clue that you’ll be back, that we’ll talk, begin again. The boys report you’re fine, busy, that you need time. How much?
Brand shut down for Mother’s funeral. The crowd overflowed into the street and remained quiet while Pastor Fletcher performed the service. Lee Ann and Walker sat in the first row, Scott beside her, Dee next to Walker, Grace and Edgar directly behind them.
While the pastor spoke, Mother seemed close by, waving a broom at the pesky raven that stole clothespins off the line when she hung the wash, deftly braiding Lee Ann’s hair with satin ribbon, straightening the hem of her skirt. There she was, commanding a new pup to stay within the fence line, nodding approval when Lee Ann delivered her first lamb, slicing a thick piece of banana bread and passing it to Walker. Be nice to your brother. Take care of your brother. Watch he doesn’t wander down to the highway, ride along with him until he knows how to handle a horse, take care he doesn’t trip on the ice, ignore his faults, indulge him, admire his enthusiasm. Don’t call him a liar. Don’t say you hate him. There, be friends. Family first, always.
Lee Ann turned her head in his direction. Walker blew his nose into his bandana and wiped his eyes. Cowboy criminal crying over his mother. Fitting.