TWENTY-THREE

WITH RELATIVES IN from all over the Southwest for the funeral, Cameron found himself having to face them all the day before. One by one and in groups and families they descended upon his childhood home.

He had never felt so much like a foreigner. Cameron had no idea whether his imagination was in overdrive or if he was really able to read everyone’s thoughts by their expressions, tones, mannerisms, and body language.

An aunt seemed to assume that he was so grateful to be home and away from the strange and exotic East Coast that he might even consider transferring to the University of Arizona. “They have a writing program, don’t they?”

“A journalism course? Oh, I’m sure. But I’ve just a few months until graduation at Princeton, and then . . .”

“Yes, I heard about the position at the big paper. The Boston Sun or some such.”

“The Globe.”

“Um-hm. And you have to wonder if those Boston Brahmans have ever even heard of Tucson.”

“Believe me they have. And I’ll try to represent us well there.”

Others were so overly sympathetic that Cameron read in them a belief that he felt terribly guilty for having been unable to see his mother before she died. An elderly cousin clucked that he must forgive himself. “I know you would have been here if you could,” she said.

Still others were plain in their judgment of him. An uncle quizzed him about how it came to be that he was late. “And you couldn’t borrow some money, get an emergency fare, prevail on a friend to get you out here somehow?”

“I did everything I could, sir. And as it was, I just missed seeing her.”

“Didn’t you know how bad off she was?”

“Dad and Jeff tried to tell me, but maybe I just didn’t want to accept it.”

“Well, you should have been here.”

“Were you here?” Cameron said. “Did you see her?”

“Well . . . ah . . . no, no. But we knew it was going to be soon. Anyway, Cammy, she’s your mother.”

Yeah, I got that.

Cameron was impressed with his father and worried about him at the same time. His parents had not had the best of marriages, but they had gotten along and spent nearly thirty years together. He’d seen the pictures of them in their courting days, when both were young and thin and obviously putting their best feet forward. They also looked dreamily in love in some pictures, something he couldn’t remember seeing in person. They were not physically or verbally affectionate, but they were nice enough to each other.

Cameron was sure his dad would be panicky and feel lost without her for a while. But he was being the consummate host, thanking every person individually for coming and saying just the right things. He was fine, he said. It was hard, though he had known it was coming. He felt a little numb, had done his crying in private and was sure more was to come. But for now he wanted to remember her the way she was before the cancer overtook her.

Most impressive to Cameron, however, was Sharon, Jeff’s wife. While Jeff was distant and quiet—and most gave him his space—Sharon assigned him to look after their son and daughter, apparently to occupy him. Cameron was only guessing, but it appeared Sharon didn’t want Jeff moping around, saying angry things, casting aspersions on his little brother.

It was obvious from Jeff’s demeanor that he meant to play up Cameron’s slothfulness until he could wring no more benefit from it. The attention had always seemed to be on Cameron, but here was a way to step into the spotlight. Jeff was a sympathetic character, the rock-steady stay-at-home guy.

With the funeral planned for midmorning the next day, guests and relatives began abandoning the house for their hotels early in the evening. Jeff took his kids home to put them to bed while Sharon stayed to help her father-in-law clean up. Cameron tried to get his father to just sit, but he insisted on keeping busy. Between the three of them, the place was tidied in way less time than Cameron would have predicted.

When his father allowed himself to be talked into going to bed early, Sharon started making noises about getting home. And though she grabbed her coat and headed toward the door, she paused and sat in the living room, looking up at Cameron.

“How are you doing, Cam, really?”

“I’m all right. I should have been here, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Jeff will get over it,” Sharon said. “I think his anger is misplaced. There are other things going on there. You’re just a convenient target.”

Cameron snorted. “I always have been. Why should that change now?”

“He really loves you, Cam.”

Cameron waved her off.

“I’m serious. He does. He doesn’t talk a lot about it. There’s jealousy there, sure. And self-righteousness. But a wife can tell. He talks about you a lot. Wonders. Worries. Cares.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do say. You know how I can tell what he really thinks of you? By what he tells other people. A person can’t talk to him for five minutes without his bringing up your name and what you’re up to.”

“I’m surprised.”

“Don’t be. He always wanted to leave Tucson too, you know. Just felt obligated to stay, especially when you went.”

“So, again, it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Maybe when your father is gone Jeff can sell the business and do what he wants wherever he wants.”

“What and where would that be?”

“You don’t know?”

“He doesn’t talk to me, Sharon. He hardly ever has, even when we were kids.”

“But surely you know of his love for horses and ranching.”

“Yeah. It was his favorite thing to do as a kid: spend time on a ranch, roping, herding cattle, rodeoing. What’re you saying? He’d become a rancher?”

She nodded. “Probably in Texas.”

“Well, more power to him. Whatever makes him happy.”

“That’s my motto,” Sharon said. “The kids make him happy, I think. I’m not sure I do anymore.”

Cameron was curious, as always, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into this. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t. But Sharon seemed to settle back on the couch, as if warming to the topic and hoping Cameron would pursue it.

“So, big day tomorrow, huh?” he said. “I suppose you’ve got a lot of work to do at the funeral too. It’s great how you helped out here. Like you were a daughter instead of a daughter-in-law.”

Sharon smiled but couldn’t hide the fatigue around her eyes. “Listen, Cam, when I married in, I bought in for the whole ride. Like it or not, I’m family now.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I like that you’re family.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you to say. I’m not sure it’s a sentiment widely shared.”

Where was this going? Cameron was struck by the fact that if he had been talking to someone else, someone not related, he would be dying to follow every rabbit trail, pursue every question, get to the bottom of the vagaries of every relationship. This was just too close to home. He no more wanted to know why Sharon felt unwelcome than he wanted to know why she worried she didn’t make Jeff happy anymore.

As he was to find out, both insecurities were rooted in the same fear. “People are put off by my faith,” she said.

Cameron knew that, but how was he supposed to respond? “They are?” he said.

She nodded. “I take it all a little too seriously, I guess. Or so they think. It seems to me that if we all believe in God and go to church, it ought to be the most important thing in our lives. Or am I missing something? What do you think, Cam?”

He shrugged. “Each to his own, I guess. Some people are more into religion than others.”

“I’m not talking about religion, Cameron. I’m talking about Jesus.”

And she wondered why people were put off? How many people went around talking about Jesus? God was one thing. Even Christ was a little more theoretical. But talking about Jesus like you were on a first-name basis with the guy—the real guy—from the Bible? Cameron didn’t want to say so, but there was something a little brassy, a little in-your-face about that. He admired that Sharon was courageous enough to be plainspoken, but it should come as no surprise to her that it made some uncomfortable. People like him.

“Um-hm,” was all he could muster, smiling.

“How about you, Cam? Where are you in all this?”

So there it was. If she was going to put it to him like that, he would be honest; that was for sure. “Have to admit I’m probably where Jeff is,” he said. “He and I ran from our church as soon as we were old enough to talk my parents into it. They were disappointed, but they didn’t make a big deal out of it. I respected them for that. They kept going and they invited us to special events. Sometimes we would go. But I gotta tell ya, Sharon, if the church we grew up in is what God is all about, He’s boring. And I mean boring.”

“Well, that church is not representative; I can tell you that. And that’s the problem. At least you and Jeff were honest and on the right track getting out of there. Your mistake—forgive me for being so blunt—was that you thought all churches were the same. So once you were out of that church, you were out altogether. Am I right, or are you attending somewhere there in New Jersey?”

He shook his head. “Too busy. With work and school and . . .”

She looked him dead in the eye. “It’s not about busyness, Cameron. You just said so yourself. You got turned off to church or you’d find one.”

“Truth hurts,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s less painful than lying to yourself.”

It was kind of her to refer to his as the lesser sin of denial than actually lying to her, which was what he had done. Sharon might tend toward the obnoxious, but she wasn’t afraid of the truth.

He shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

She stood. “I’d better get going. But can I give you my pitch?”

“Your pitch?”

“My sales job. As long as everybody in this family has me pigeonholed as the devout lunatic, I might as well get some mileage out of it. Here it is, Cameron. I love you and care about you as if you were my own brother. Your church was a poor representation of God and Jesus and all They are about. God loves you. He sent Jesus to die for your sins. He wants to hear from you, to make you His child, and to see you interacting with Him in a church that knows what that’s all about. Think about it. You don’t have to answer to me. I know better than that. But, if nothing else, now you know why the family sees me the way they do, and you’ve got your own story you can tell behind my back.”

Cameron stood and embraced her. “Sharon,” he said, “I will never do that. I appreciate your being so honest and forthright. And caring.”