Page 80 of Grounded
“Of course, but what Dixie says and what she does are two different things. I dared not say anything to her. I was glad she was thinking about it. Need help with the door?” Evelyn asked.
“I believe I can get it.” Beulah opened it and eased herself in the seat, taking care not to twist her knee. “I appreciate you driving me up there, Evelyn. I planned for Annie to take me, but about thirty minutes after Camille left, she ran upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door.”
A look of understanding flooded Evelyn’s face. “That must be where Jake went, flying out of the house after Cam got back. I was upstairs in the sewing room and I heard her pull in. They talked out in the parking lot for a few minutes, and then I saw Jake take off through the field.”
“So the fight was with Jake, not Cam,” Beulah mused.
“I’m guessing Cam is at the center of it,” Evelyn said.
“And Jake said they were leaving?” Beulah asked.
“He had to take her to her car anyway, so he said he would go on home with her and try to come back later in the week.”
The two old friends traded glances with each other that a multitude of words could never describe. Beulah sighed deeply. What would become of this mess?
When they eased past the way to the stone house, Beulah glimpsed the house through the trees and noticed there was only one window covered up now. Maybe whatever the woman was doing was over. Or maybe she wasn’t seeing right. It was time to get a new set of glasses, but she had put it off until after the knee surgery.
The May family cemetery looked peaceful in the speckled sunlight that came through the tree branches. She took her time getting out of the car, for that was the hardest part. Evelyn already had one of the arrangements out of the trunk by the time she stood up.
“Where would you like this one?” Evelyn held an arrangement with red and blue ribbons.
“That looks patriotic. Let’s put it on Ephraim’s grave.” She watched as Evelyn carried it over and placed the arrangement in a Mason jar, then filled it with water from a plastic jug.
“That’s nice,” Evelyn said.
Beulah looked in the trunk and pointed to one with pink and yellow flowers. “How about that one for Mama and Daddy’s grave?” Evelyn picked it up. “This one to Jo Anne, and this small one to Jacob.” Beulah supposed it sounded as if she were speaking of them in the flesh, rather than a tombstone, but Evelyn understood.
“I’ll get the flowers. You grab my arm with your free hand.” Evelyn offered her arm. “The ground is a little uneven.”
One small step at a time, Beulah made it into the cemetery, but Evelyn had to lean down and put the arrangements in the jars and pour the water. While Evelyn worked, she looked at each grave and the loss it represented.
Mama and Daddy lived way up into their eighties, a good long life by any standard, but she felt the loss of them even now, deep in her soul. How they grieved for Ephraim, especially her Mama. Beulah still had the flag the government gave them after he died, and the Purple Heart.
And her own little Jacob, born premature and living only three days, was another grief that seared even deeper than the others. Often she had wondered if he would have survived nowadays with the technology for early babies. She heard tell of babies living who were born much earlier than Jacob, but it wasn’t meant to be, and she trusted the Lord’s judgment in that and the other pains in her life.
And of course there was her beloved Fred. She missed him terribly. During the days, she could pretend he was still out working in the fields, but the nights and mornings made it painfully obvious he was gone; but she would see him again, all of them, thanks to the Lord who provided a way. The older she got, the sooner it would be.
Evelyn and Beulah stood back to admire the newly adorned tombstones. It was unlikely anyone else would, it being such a small and private cemetery, but Beulah knew her duty. It was right to remember the dead.
On the way back, Beulah and Evelyn were quiet. Cemeteries had a way of doing that. They made you think about your life and how much time you might or might not have left. If there was any regret Beulah could say she had, it was being too reserved in her emotions. When she looked back at the many times she could have said more to Fred, Jo Anne, even to her parents and Ephraim, she wished now she had told them more how she felt, how much she loved them.
Those opportunities were lost, but she had today, this living, breathing moment.
“Evelyn, you are my dearest friend,” Beulah said. “And in case I’ve never told you, I love you like a sister, even though twenty years separate us.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows flew up, and Beulah saw tears in her eyes. “Oh, Beulah, you know you’ve been family to me.” Evelyn reached across and grabbed her hand. “Thank you for telling me that. I needed to hear that today.”
Back at the house, Beulah called upstairs, “Annie, do you want some supper?” She wished she could manage the steps and check on her granddaughter.
In a moment, the door opened and Annie came out. Her eyes were heavy and swollen, her hair messed up.
“I don’t, but I’ll fix you something.”
“No sense in that. I put on another mess of green beans to cook before we went to the cemetery, and they’re almost ready.”
“Oh, Grandma, I forgot you wanted to go. I’m sorry.”
Beulah noticed her voice was low and hoarse as she plodded down the wooden stairs in her sock feet.
