Page 45 of All We Thought We Knew
Nash went to the cellar to retrieve a couple jars of Mama’s canned green beans while I started on the dough for her mouthwatering yeast rolls. We planned to eat around four o’clock in the afternoon, so there was plenty of time to let the dough rise in the warm kitchen.
He’d just returned when we heard Mama call from upstairs. My hands were covered in dough and flour, so Nash volunteered to check on her. When he returned, he said she was awake andneeded my help with the bedpan we’d begun to use now that it was getting difficult for her to walk to the bathroom in the hallway.
As I washed my hands, I glanced at Nash, who was already cleaning up my floury mess. “I don’t think I’ve told you this, but... thank you.” My throat tightened, and I couldn’t say more.
He met my gaze. “I’m the one who’s grateful. Your folks took me in and gave me a purpose when I didn’t think I had one anymore.”
I nodded, then made my way upstairs.
After I helped Mama use the bedpan, I sat in the chair next to her. “We have the turkey in the oven, stuffed and filling the house with delicious aromas.”
She offered a weak smile. “I can smell it. Don’t forget to baste it,” she said with a wink.
I told her about Nash and his memories of his mother cooking the holiday meal. Then I confessed my own regret about my lack of such memories.
I reached for her hand, finding it icy. “I’m sorry I never helped you, Mama.”
“I was always happiest in the kitchen, cooking for my family. You kids had better things to do, like build forts and ride horses and enjoy God’s beautiful world.”
She wanted to hear all about the meal preparations. After I’d told her every detail, she changed the subject.
“Have you read the letters from the box yet?”
I hedged. “I haven’t had time, what with Thanksgiving and everything I needed to get done.”
She nodded then winced. “I believe I need one of my pills, dear.”
I hurried to comply.
After she’d settled again, she closed her eyes. “Your father doesn’t know I kept them after all these years.”
I knew she was talking about the letters. “What’s this about, Mama? Why are the letters so important?”
Her eyes remained closed. “You need to know. Mark too. He shouldn’t go to war without knowing.”
I frowned.
Was the medicine messing with her mind? “What should I know?”
But she didn’t respond.
I waited to see if she would rouse, but the pill had already taken hold. Dr. Monahan had prescribed a stronger dosage after Dad called him on Tuesday to let our family physician know Mama’s pain was increasing with each passing day. I’d used my share of drugs while I was in California, with the desire to leave reality behind, but the little pills Mama took removed her from me. I didn’t like that at all.
To our disappointment, Mama slept through most of the day. Pastor and Mrs. Arnold braved the cold and the icy roads and arrived right on time. I hadn’t seen them since last Thanksgiving, when I’d been drunk and angry, yet they both greeted me with a warm hug and seemed genuinely happy to see me.
The dinner turned out better than I’d expected, with juicy turkey and lump-free gravy. The two empty chairs, however, reminded me holidays would never be the same. I missed Mark intensely. I could almost hear him cracking jokes about my cooking or challenging me to see who could eat the most rolls. Mama’s absence, too, felt heavy, especially knowing she was upstairs in a drug-induced oblivion.
I’d just served everyone some of Mrs. Arnold’s pumpkin pie when her husband brought up the war, a topic the rest of us had avoided.
“I read an article in theReader’s Digestthe other day about the many POWs being held in Vietnam, and how we can help them.” He wore a pained expression. “I can’t imagine what those men are going through.”
Everyone but me gave a solemn nod. Not because I didn’t careabout the men being held in a foreign country halfway around the world, but because providing them help should have come years ago. Back when the decision was made to send them there in the first place.
“Thankfully President Nixon has promised to withdraw our troops as soon as possible and bring all of our boys home.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Are you kidding me?”
All heads turned in my direction, but I kept my focus on the pastor. “Nixon got up in front of TV cameras and told the nation a bunch of lies. He has no intention of ending the war anytime soon.”
