Anne and Dad’s house smelled of Christmas ambrosia, that unique blend of turkey, dressing, trimmings and traditional desserts seasoned with spices that tickle the nose and palate. The first whiff sent serotonin spiraling through me. While Kirk and Toby unloaded gaily wrapped gifts under a tall spruce tree that blinked endless multi-colored lights, I went to join Anne, Trish and Heather in the kitchen to add my dishes to the ones already sprouting atop groaning tables. Chuck, looking more alive than I’d seen him in years, entertained our clan with Saturday Night Live jokes and monologues. I still marveled at his wit and recall.

“He hasn’t lost his touch,” I whispered to Anne.

She paused in spreading a tablecloth to reply, “He’s more a part of the family than I’d ever ‘a dreamed possible.”

“Yeah. Amazing what hard times can accomplish.” I gave her a hug and we finished setting out bright red holiday cups, plates and napkins.

Long ago, Anne had invested in folding tables for family occasions and today, recruited all for service. Each had a long white cloth with red tapered candle centerpieces. Trish lit the candles while the other females – excluding Dawn, who disappeared like magic when the work began – arranged food according to genre on the big oak dining room table we’d eaten on since Ann had come into the family.

“Joe,” Anne called, “go get the folding chairs out of the shop.”

Daddy and the guys promptly complied, knowing it brought them closer to chowing down. Since Daddy’s heart surgery, he’d been like a lab puppy. Today, he kissed Anne’s flushed cheek as he plopped a chair next to where she stood supervising the order of heavenly carbohydrates.

“This woman’s something else,” he said to me and winked.

I nodded, grinning, ecstatic to see him so happy. His devotion to Anne did not leave her unaffected. She still spit out orders to him, but he now rushed to do her bidding. His hospital stint, during which Daddy declared himself an “outright coward,” had unveiled to him Anne’s selfless nature.

“I not only had my heart fixed, I had my eyes opened,” he told me repeatedly. “Anne didn’t leave me during that two-week stay. She stuck with me night and day, meeting my every fear and need with sweetness and patience.”

We always laughed at that point. “I’m the worst patient in the world.”

I didn’t argue, remembering Daddy’s battle of wills with a tough drill-sergeant ICU nurse who refused to move him to a room until he stood and walked on his own.

“Lord, I hated that woman,” he said today, but then his eyes warmed. “Mostly because I had claustrophobia and was so desperate to escape that windowless unit I’d have killed. Every time I tried to stand, I blacked out.” He shook his head with grudging respect. “That battle-ax wouldn’t budge.”

“Daddy,” I laughed till tears puddled, “I can still see you sitting rigid as a pole with her pushing you through those doors in a wheelchair. You were so mad you wouldn’t even look at us. You could have spit nails.”

“Yeah. But I was wrong to feel that way.” I still marveled at the tenderhearted man evolved from my Daddy. “She was just doing her job, though. If she hadn’t made me mad, I’d probably still be laying in that ICU bed.”

Later, we sang Christmas songs to Heather’s accompaniment on the old den piano. I noted tears in Daddy’s eyes several times. When we finally hushed, he took me aside.

“Neecy,” he took my hand, “I want us – you, me and Anne – to go up and visit your MawMaw. I been thinking about her lately, about how she’s in that nursing home and all. I’d like to go see her.”

My heart nearly burst with pleasure. I’d been to visit MawMaw several times in the past three years, cherishing each moment with her. “That would be great, Daddy. Just name the time.”

The following Wednesday, both mine and Dad’s day off, we arrived at Oakmont Nursing Home, where the normal Lysol odors assaulted our nostrils and the sight of MawMaw, sitting in a wheelchair that awaited someone to push her to lunch, was like a punch in the gut.

We approached my little grandmother, whose weight loss nearly destroyed her roundness, I grieved at the vacancy in her gray-blue eyes. She looked so – defenseless. So vulnerable.

“MawMaw?” I said gently when we stood before her. The bowed dark head, now threaded with silver and sporting a short carefree haircut, slowly lifted. Empty eyes sighted me and for long moments were confused.

“It’s Neecy,” I coaxed her memory.

Then, like a sudden sunrise, her countenance lifted into surprised joy. “Neecy,” her frail arms reached for a hug. I stooped and gathered her into my arms, feeling her lips seek and kiss my cheek as she returned my squeeze with remarkable strength. I inhaled her clean familiar fragrance and as I released her, felt the soft loose flesh underneath her arms, shocked that it was no longer full and firm.

She became aware of her other two visitors. Her faded gray gaze scanned their faces for a clue as to their identity. Slowly, recognition broke over her features and the smile reappeared.

“Joe…” Up came the arms again, opened wide. “You’re still my boy.”

Daddy dropped to his haunches and gathered her to him, weeping. “I’m so sorry, Maude,” he murmured, “for everything.”

Her small fingers cupped his head to her bosom. “Joe...my boy. I love you.”

“I – I love you, too, Maude,” Daddy sobbed pitifully. “We had some good times way back.”

“We shore did,” MawMaw croaked.

Anne and I cried, watching the reunion. We spent several hours in the parlor, where MawMaw managed, with Daddy’s help, to seat herself at the piano and entertain the other residents with her inimitable playing. Her fervent Pentecostal style soon had toes tapping that hadn’t felt music’s beat in years.

Exhausted, she finally let us settle her into her bed that evening. Daddy insisted we pray for her before we took leave. He knelt at her bedside and laid his hand on her head.

“Please, Lord. Heal Maude of her infirmities. She’s still got a lot of life left. Please....” His voice choked off for a long spell before he managed a strangled “Amen.”

I kissed MawMaw after Anne held her for a tearful goodbye.

“I love you, MawMaw,” I whispered.

“I know, honey.” She smiled at me. “I know.”

I left with the most glorious sense of fulfillment. In recent days, I’d been talking more with God and in the process, found myself coming out of the fog I’d been in for years. I still had a ways to go, but it was a beginning.

One thing was certain: though thirty odd years had passed since I’d uttered them, God had finally answered some of my prayers.

My decision to become financially autonomous was, at the time, a sensible one. Kirk had never acted on his threat to “see a lawyer,” but what with his coldness to me and his emotional hands-off stance, I figured I best prepare myself for the worst. My marriage seemed doomed. I say my because from the night at the Landmark Hotel, Kirk did not acknowledge any responsibility to me or the marriage beyond paying the utility bills as he’d always done. I began to feel like a kept woman. I didn’t like the feeling.

No, that’s not strong enough. I hated the feeling of indebtedness.

Knowing his contempt for me was excruciating. Worst still was not knowing why.

Beyond all that, I didn’t want a divorce. Never had. A priority was concern for the children and how it would hurt them, innocent bystanders. It wasn’t fair. Besides, I had no better agenda in the wings so I continued to work at reconciliation. At least, if all failed, I would know I’d tried.

I’d explained in detail to Kirk the events leading up to his discovery of Chris in my room that night. His attention had been that of a disinterested party. Kirk had dissected me from his life as succinctly as Daddy had MawMaw years ago. It was as though I didn’t exist except as a bother.

Kirk, I decided, wanted his freedom.

Against Kirk’s objections, I finished my math course at Harborville Community College. After I refused to drop the course, Kirk never mentioned it again. That, in itself, spoke volumes about his disdain. My refusal had nothing to do with rebellion; I simply needed the credits for my certification. Johnny Revel and I struck an unspoken agreement to back off anything other than distant friendship.

He was lucky. I couldn’t just walk away from everything.

Not until I could stand on my own.

So, it was with desperation that I began to plow through alien looking utility bills to acquaint myself with the idea of living alone and handling them. My initial terror had begun to subside and as I shuffled through phone bills, I commended myself on how far I’d come.

That was when I saw it. The unknown phone number. Calls were made to it on numerous occasions. I didn’t recognize the area code. Times they were made varied, some late at night – one over an hour long.

A shrill alarm went off. The call was made during my disastrous beach trip, the second night of my stay. My gaze darted to other dates – consecutive ones. Shock bzzzzzzed through me. I sat there, paralyzed with it. Then adrenaline kicked in. I searched out the area code and discovered it was for near Asheville.

Anger. With shaking fingers, I dialed the number.

“Hello,” came the pleasant female voice, “Cheryl’s Beauty Box. Cheryl speaking.”

I hung up. Sickness crept over me. The Hair Styling Convention Kirk had attended when he sent me to the beach. He’d met someone. She had a name. Cheryl.

I pulled my purse over my shoulder and drove to our salon. It was empty except for Kirk, who sat in his styling chair, reading the daily paper. I threw my purse on the sofa and advanced on him. Now, I knew what seeing red meant.

“Can you explain this?” I asked, shoving the phone bill under his nose.

Unperturbed, he took it from my fingers, showing annoyance at my invasion. He looked at the number, circled repeatedly with my red pen. Then, he looked at me as calm as I’d ever seen him. “So?”

“I called her, Kirk. You met her at the convention the weekend you sent me away.”

Something flickered in his eyes, then settled into coldness. “What’s your problem? I met a nice hair stylist is all. We’ve called each other a few times, discussing some business ideas.”

“Kirk,” I heard my voice rising but couldn’t harness it, “You don’t call a female this many times, long distance, without something going on.” Please, explain it away, Kirk.

I plopped into a nearby chair, trembling with infinite emotions, spearheaded by terror.

Kirk stared at me for long moments, fingers steepled to lips, his eyes flat. That was the most terrifying of all, his cold gaze. Everything in me spiraled, spiraled downward, as though gravity was sucking it all from me.

Suddenly, Kirk dropped his hands and grinned.

I stared at him, frowning. “What are you grinning about?” I whispered. “I’m dying and you’re smiling.”

He shrugged. “What can I say. I’m caught.”

Next thing I knew, I was on my feet and slapping him across the face. I’d never struck Kirk before and hadn’t known I was going to do it. He grabbed my hands as I felt them preparing to hit him again. I knew I was out of control but didn’t care. All I felt was rage and hurt.

I jerked free of his grasp and whirled away. I moved to lay my head against the wall.

“Oh, Kirk,” I moaned, sliding down the wall until I hit the floor in a heap, weeping. “Why?”

He blurred and swam in my vision. “If you’d been thorough,” he said flatly, “You’d have seen that there have been no recent calls.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You promised you’d never be unfaithful to me again,” I heard myself whimper.

That hateful empty stare. “I lied. So shoot me.”

“I don’t want to live.” I climbed to my feet and headed blindly for my purse. “I just – ”

Kirk blocked my way. “You’re not going anywhere like this.”

He swam before me. “What do you care?”

“You’ve got an appointment.” His statement jolted me from my red haze.

“When?” I whispered, swiping a hand over my wet cheeks.

He hiked up his arm and looked at his watch. “In ten minutes.”

I quickly repaired my makeup, my fingers trembling so violently I could hardly maneuver them. When Mrs. Stone arrived, I managed what I hoped was a pleasant greeting and as I shampooed her, I heard Kirk quietly exit.

Somehow, I cut and styled my client’s hair, then bid her goodbye. An hour had lapsed since Kirk had left. I sat down in a chair, trying to sift through what had transpired, strangely encouraged that I’d handled it as well as I had. The cold knot in my stomach reminded me that it was not over yet.

The certainty of that rippled a chill up my spine.

The door opened and Kirk walked in. He plopped down onto the sofa, not even joining me in the work area. On traumaautomatic-pilot, I moved to a chair opposite him. “What now, Kirk?” I asked, hating the tremor in my voice.

“All these years, you’ve never bothered your little head with the phone bill,” he said, staring past me as though I didn’t exist. “Now, suddenly, you just had to poke around and find something.”

“I didn’t go looking for anything, Kirk,” I said, “I was trying to figure out how to handle utility bills. It’s evident you don’t want to ‘take care of me’ anymore.” Sarcasm dripped from my words.

His green gaze slashed my way, pinning me. “Yeah. I believe that like I believe nothing happened in your hotel room that night.” He gave a dry, humorless laugh. “You’re going to be pitiful trying to keep up with bills.”

Anger propelled me to my feet. “I know you despise me, Kirk. Now, I know why. Someone named Cheryl.”

He was suddenly in my face. “This is not about another woman.”

The smell of alcohol hit me like a mallet. “You’ve been drinking. Oh, God, Kirk – of all times to stay sober, this was it.” I turned away. “I can’t believe you couldn’t stay sober for – ”

His strong fingers spun me around. “Hit me now, Janeece,” he said with that quiet lethalness I’d always feared. He gave my shoulder a little shove, “C’mon,” he taunted, “hit me now.” Another shove, a bit stronger. “Hit me.”

I struggled to maintain my footing, staring at the huge fist swimming before my terrified wet vision. “I don’t want to hit you, Kirk,” I heard myself say in a dead voice.

And I knew Kirk was drunk. “I’m not drunk,” he said as though reading my mind. “I know exactly what I’m saying.”

I didn’t doubt that for one minute. “I’ve got to go home, Kirk,” I headed for my purse again, only to be blocked as he snatched it up and emptied its contents on the sofa. He grabbed my purse, extracted all the money from it and threw it onto the heap.

“You’re what I made you,” he said, eyes burning. “You couldn’t make it on your own if you tried,” he sneered.

“Then you shouldn’t care that I’m leaving,” I said, looking past him, waiting for him to calm down and step aside. I knew I must be careful not to push him over the edge. I’d always known violence lurked in Kirk. Somehow, I’d known.

“Leaving?” His gaze narrowed meanly.

I looked dully at him. “Going home.”

Slowly, he handed me my car keys. I was suddenly glad for Kirk’s strong work ethic that prevented him from simply closing down the salon and following me home to resume the fight. We welcomed walk-in clientele so we had to keep the door open during our posted working hours.

At the house, I’d just stepped out of my shoes when Kirk came in.

I stared at him warily.

“Don’t,” he said, pain flickering in his eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t look afraid of me.”

Tears welled, then spilled over as I gazed at him. He slowly approached me, then tentatively reached out to touch my wet cheek. “Oh, Neecy,” he moaned and hauled me against him, his arms squeezing me so tight I could hardly breathe. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.” He lifted his head, then pressed his forehead to mine, whispering, “I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“Kirk,” I said, “do you love her?”

He stiffened, then said quietly, “No. I haven’t talked with her in a long time.”

“Why did you – ?” I couldn’t put it into words.

He pulled me over to the den sofa and settled me onto it. “Neecy, it all began when I thought you were wanting to have an affair – to purge yourself, you said. I knew that guy – Johnny Revel – was sniffing around you at school. That’s when I realized I couldn’t keep on hurting, either. I convinced myself it was stupid to feel so territorial and jealous at the thought of someone else looking at you. So – I let myself get caught in another situation that I thought would de-sensitize me, so to speak.” He settled back against the cushions. “I came down to the beach that night because I realized what a fool I’d been but when I saw that guy in your room – I went crazy.”

“I told you, Kirk,” I said desperately, “there was nothing between Chris and myself. Not that night, not ever.”

He looked at me with such sadness, it took my breath. “I want to believe you, Neecy. I think I do. But – ”

“Kirk, I was so sick, I couldn’t have – ”

“What if you hadn’t gotten sick, though, Neecy?” Kirk asked gently.

I gazed at him for long moments. I didn’t have an answer for him because, looking back, I realized how vulnerable I’d been at that point in time. I’d been aroused by a man young enough to be my son.

“Kirk – ” I licked my lips and decided to be honest. “I finally understand that sex isn’t always about love. It can be – but doesn’t have to be.”

He gazed back at me and I saw questions in his eyes, but he didn’t ask them. I was grateful.

“Janeece,” Kirk’s brow furrowed, “do you think we’re gonna make it?”

“I don’t know, Kirk.” I reached out to touch his hand. “I really don’t know.”

I wish I could say Kirk didn’t backslide into occasional pugnaciousness after that talk. But with Kirk’s complexity, sailing didn’t resume smoothly. The next week, Callie’s mom died. Anne called me with the bad news.

“Where’s the family going to receive friends?” I asked.

“At Forest’s Funeral Home.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Anne. How’s Chuck’s tech college studies going?”

“Great, according to him,” Anne informed me. “You know he’s into computer studies, something he can handle with his limited endurance.”

“My my. He’s indomitable. Is Poogie still spending time with him?”

“Whenever her Mama takes her. She’s getting a little more pushy about being with her daddy, though. Brags on his good grades.”

“That really warms my heart, Anne.” I paused. “Thanks for taking care of him all those years he was sick and alone.”

“He’s my young-un, Neecy, just like you and Trish,” she said softly.

“I know. See you at Forest’s tonight. Love you.”

“Me, too. Bye.”

That night, folks overflowed the funeral home when Kirk and I arrived. I felt Kirk stiffen beside me as I signed the guest register. From the corner of my eye, I saw his head lift like a beast sniffing out danger. Wary, I turned to the target of his gawk. His old high-school nemesis Hugh Nighthawk huddled with other old high school friends at the far end of the large receiving room, unaware of our presence.

I turned on my heel and headed in the opposite direction, praying Kirk would follow. Callie stood beside the bronze casket with its spray of red roses, Mollie’s favorite. Her burst of dark hair hugged her pale cheeks in a bob that swayed as her head dipped and moved in grateful animation. Her beauty still took my breath. I slowly made my way to where she greeted an elderly couple from Mollie’s church. I stood silently, waiting my turn to speak to her, choking back sudden, overwhelming tears. I could see Mollie’s lovely profile framed by a gust of white wavy gloss, horizoned slightly above the casket break. It could have been superimposed over Callie’s face without changing much with its patrician nose set over generous, patient lips I’d never heard utter an unkind word. Even after Callie’s worst shenanigans, Mollie had given Cal the benefit of a doubt. To a fault at times, but now I realized Mollie, with her husband’s drinking and philandering, had handled things the best she knew how.

Increasingly frustrating battle-of-wills with Dawn had loosed my compassion for others in like situations.

The older couple moved on. Callie sighted me and her dark eyes rounded and filled with tears.

“Neecy,” she whispered on a sob. We fell into each other’s arms and bawled like babies.

“She’s so pretty, Cal,” I sobbed. “Like an angel. She was an angel.”

“Got that right, Neecy.” When we finally wound down, Callie pulled back to look at me through red, swollen eyes. “I’m so glad you came, Neecy.”

“I’ve missed you.”

She snuffled and tried unsuccessfully to blink back tears. “Me, too.”

“Cal – I’m sorry about all the junk – and that I’ve not been to see you while you’ve been nursing your mama through cancer – ”

“That was then and this is now. You’ve had your own battles, Neecy. I know that.” Her hands gently squeezed my arms. “Let’s not look back.”

I smiled at her through new tears. “Okay.”

“Oka-a-ay.” She held up her hand and we did a high-five, tears coursing down our cheeks.

“Kirk!” Callie turned to give Kirk a big hug. I no longer felt threatened by their warm relationship. Felt, in fact, that I’d been stupid to ever have been. “Don’t get gone.” Cal grabbed our arms as we prepared to move away. “I want you to come over to the house when I leave.”

Kirk and I meandered to the lobby area to wait for Callie. Hugh was nowhere to be seen. The disappearing act no longer amused me. Because I never knew what to expect from Kirk these days. Since I’d found out about the phone calls, not much had changed. Ours was an unspoken, spider-web fragile truce, the one-day-at-a-time and let’s-see-what-happens brand.

I still whiffed the telltale alcohol smell on occasion. But not as often.

Kirk insisted I ride with Cal to her house and he followed in our Buick sedan. “He wanted to give us time alone,” Callie murmured tiredly, exhausted from grief and all those months of hanging in there with Mollie. “How are things, Neecy?” she asked.

I hesitated, wondering how much to reveal to her during her own time of distress. “Okay,” I replied, deciding it wouldn’t be fair to dump on her. “Not perfect. Just – okay.”

“Mmm. Takes time.” She gave a long ragged sigh, slumped over the wheel as though it were the only thing between her and acute collapse.

“How about you, Cal? What you going to do now that both parents are gone?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. Then a matter of fact, “I’ll stay on in the house.” She shrugged. “Why not? It’s paid for and it’s home.” She gave a little snort that transported me back to younger days. “At one time, I couldn’t wait to get away from here. Remember?”

I laughed. “Do I. You wasted no time in fulfilling your dream, either.”

Her gaze settled dully on the road again. Her aborted grunt of laughter didn’t reach her face. “Turned out to be a nightmare.” Another tremulous sigh, then a conscious lift of features and shoulders. “Until I met God.”

The sudden reference stunned my senses, like a brash intrusion. How far I’d drifted.

“How about you, Neecy? You leaning on Him?”

Paralyzed with revelation, I couldn’t speak.

“Things like that – what happened to you and Kirk – can bring on bitterness, Neecy. I’m not saying you’re bitter,” she added quickly, seeing me tense. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that when a good person like you gets slaughtered by hurts, it’s difficult as blazes to keep a straight head. I don’t know what’s transpired in the past ten years, but I know – feel – you’ve fought a horrific battle to stay sane.”

She relaxed for a moment as she navigated her old plunker Ford around condolence-bearers’ vehicles and into her teensy drive. Kirk had already joined the men occupying the front porch with its endearing white swing and neatly whitewashed, weathered rocking chairs. Cigarettes blinked like fireflies in the silvery darkness.

Callie turned to me, her silky dress rustling against the leather car seat, in no hurry to join her guests. Suddenly, I felt her intense love, one I’d never have dreamed, all those years ago, would have evolved. I swallowed a huge lump.

“Callie,” I spoke impulsively, hoarsely, “you can’t imagine how much your love means to me just now.” I blinked rapidly, hating the free-falling tears streaming my face, revealing to her my need, my depletion. She took my hand and squeezed and in an instant, it didn’t really matter. “Oh Cal – I don’t want to burden you right now wi – ”

Her fingers gripped mine so tightly I felt them begin to numb. “Don’t you ever again close me out of your life, Janeece Whitman Crenshaw,” she sniped in the old Callie vernacular, tart and concise and final. “We can’t let go of each other again.”

We fell into each other’s arms and bawled it out. When we cranked down, sniffling and blowing noses heartily into Kleenexes, Callie looked me blearily in the eye. “Now, here’s what I want you to do – my prescription, for whatever it’s worth to you.”

“This next week, you get alone somewhere, meditate and pray. Then – we’ll talk again.”

I stared at her, perplexed yet knowing she was right. There had to be a starting place for my odyssey back. I’d just needed Cal to remind me where.

“Thanks, Cal,” I whispered, the darned tears puddling again.

She flashed a fervent smile. “Payback time, Neecy.” She shrugged elaborately as her own dark eyes moistened. “Just – payback time.”