Page 88 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
“Boiling hot water will do that to you,” her mother said like Lucy was an imbecile.
April shot her a look.
“Why don’t you show us the photos while we’re having tea?” her mother suggested.
Lucy stood up immediately. There was no point in delaying. She headed into her office and grabbed the photos off the antique desk. Since she had access to high-resolution printers at the university, she’d printed off her favorite photo of each subject with the intention of using a magnifying glass to manually catch the defects. Of course, she’d found plenty and hoped to touch them up.
When she returned to the kitchen, Lucy set the photos down on the table next to her mom. Resuming her seat, she picked up her tea. Jill’s photo was on top.
“Oh, she looks so lovely,” April said, a warm smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how soft or beautiful Jill is. I mean I knew she was pretty, but…goodness, Lucy.”
“She hastearsin her eyes,” her mother said indignantly, grabbing the photo and shaking it in the air. “I told you we weren’t doing one of your sad calendars, Lucy!”
April’s eyes widened. “Let’s look at the other two, Ellie.”
Her mother slapped Jill’s photo down with enough force the cups shook, making the tea rock back and forth like the weather in the room had turned stormy.
“Old Man Jenkins looks sad too!” she exclaimed, glaring at Lucy. “Dammit, what did you do to them?”
Her tone was a harsh slap across the face. “I didn’t do anything to them, Mother. I only asked them to tell me a story about the person they were honoring.”
Her mother shoved out of her chair. “Why would youdo that? The past is dead, Lucy. All you’re doing is dredging it up by asking questions like that.”
She gripped the bottom of chair to keep from facing off with her mother. “Their memories aren’t dead, Mother. They matter. It’s the whole reason they’re doing this calendar.”
Her mother emitted a sputter as April set a hand on her arm. “Ellie, she’s right. These pictures are really great. I mean, Old Man Jenkins is still sitting there with an American flag on his lap and he looks…so sweet.”
“It’s supposed to be funny, not sweet,” her mother said in a shrill tone. “April, he’s ninety-one years old and wearing nothing but a flag. And yet my daughter somehow managed to suck all the humor out of the scene.”
Lucy shot out of her chair. “Fine! I’m a humor sucker, Mother. The photos need considerable touching up, but I happen to think they’re wonderful.”
Her mother grabbed the last photo—the one of Rhett. She thrust it into April’s face. “My daughter even managed to suck all the charm from Rhett Butler Blaylock. God help us.”
Her mother’s friend lowered her head, as if she didn’t quite know what to say. Lucy couldn’t blame her.
“He’s more than his charm, Mother,” she said, fisting her hands at her sides. “He has a heart, and he misses his uncle. Do you know that when Rhett was a little boy, his uncle used to let him sit on his lap during his poker games? His wife, a staunch Southern Baptist, told him he’d go to hell for gambling. And do you know what he’d tell Rhett? That a real man has to make his own fate in this life and not let anyone else tell him what’s right and wrong.”
Her mother’s brows drew together like two wasps colliding in midair. “Are you saying I’m trying to tell youwhat’s right and wrong? You’re darn right I am. I gave birth to you. That’s my job.”
Lucy’s stomach was burning now, like her ulcers had grown back. “But your job is done, Mother, and you refuse to see it. You refuse to see me. You won’t let me be me. I do calendars all the time—perhaps not like this—but I know what works, and you won’tlistento me. You never do.”
Her mother’s hands cut through the air like a knife. “I’m a terrible mother, I know! I don’t know how you can even stand to be around me.”
“Ellie!” April called out.
Ignoring her, Lucy’s mother strode to the kitchen doorway. “You’re wrong this time, Lucy. Lifeisfilled with humor and fun. Even after you lose someone or something. That’s what gets people through things. You’re only dragging everyone back into the thick of their grief. Rhett can never play poker with his uncle again. That’s a fact. You’re cruel to make him remember something that can never be.”
Lucy’s breath sucked in at the attack. “That’s it! If you feel that way about me, you don’t know me at all. I’m a good person, Mother. I listen to the stories of people who have nothing left but the memories of the people they loved. It doesn’t matter if it’s Rhett or a ten-year-old kid in Congo who lost both parents to AIDS. I honor the person they’ve lost and their memories of them. And I show them how beautiful they are while they’re being human. You have no bandwidth for the full range of human emotion, and I’m sorry for you.”
She was heaving out her breath now. April shook her head, she noticed, as if immeasurably sad.
“If that’s how you feel, then not only should you not do our calendar, but you shouldn’t ever talkto me again. Because I can hear the judgment in your voice, Lucy, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you imply I’m a bad person.”
Her mother turned around and stomped out of view.
“Oh, Lucy,” April said, rising and hugging her with heavy arms. “I know you’re not my daughter, but I hope you can take a minute to hear what you just said to her.”
She pressed away from the woman she’d always respected. “Didn’t you hear what she said to me?”
