Friday, December 25th, 2020, evening
Beth’s sigh punctuated the darkness like the whoosh from a soda bottle.
I glanced at my daughter. What scheme was she plotting now? “What’s the matter, Princess?” Did the plan have anything to do with corralling me into taking her home after our family Christmas because her husband had left earlier to put their two toddlers to bed?
“Beth, what’s the matter? You seem uneasy.”
She leaned her head against the side window, and puffs of moisture blossomed on the glass. “I missed Mom today because she wasn’t here to celebrate the Lord’s birth. It was important to her.”
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Judith, my wife of twenty-four years, should have been at today’s get-together. I still wasn’t used to living alone.
I should have known that Beth would mention her mother. They resembled each other so much that it stabbed like a knife. Both had dimples, a cute, petite nose, a soft freckled complexion, and black hair flowing down their backs.
I forced my hands to relax. “Yeah. Your mom made a big production of arranging the manger scene beside the Christmas tree.”
“Uh-huh. When Tom and I were growing up, we enjoyed how she dramatized the birth of Jesus.”
“I know. When I read the story of Jesus’ birth from the Gospel of Luke, your mom performed it like a stage play. She was good at those kinds of things.”
Memories—so many memories.
Beth drew stick figures on the window of a family around a Christmas tree. “Mom’s enactments made it special for Tom and me. I remember her flying the baby Jesus through the air and saying, ‘God sent him special from heaven to land in the manger.’”
My breathing picked up speed. “I miss your mother so much that it hurts. The house isn’t the same without her. The ranch isn’t the same. Nothing’s the same without her.”
Beth twisted the necklace we’d given her at her high school graduation five years ago. “Dad, I know you miss Mom. We all do. But she’s been gone for almost two years. What’s it going to take for you to be happy again?”
My jaw tightened. Here we go again. This must be part of her scheme. “I don’t know.” How could I be happy without my wife? Wherever I went in the house, I saw her: the frilly blue curtains in the kitchen, the mountain picture on the living room wall, the bathroom shelf I hadn’t cleaned off. The house was an empty tomb without her.
“Dad, I see changes in you since Mom died. Your attitude is different.”
I stopped at a crossroads before proceeding on through. “Attitude, like how?”
“You act differently. Today, with the family, you resembled a defeated dog cowering under the porch. You didn’t smile and hardly spoke. You need to realize that Mom is gone, and you need to move on with your life.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “How can I move on? I remember holding her. I roll over at night and find an empty pillow. When she washed dishes, I’d sneak up behind her to kiss her neck, and she’d lean against me like melting butter.”
In the glow of the headlights, the mailbox at Shook’s farm appeared out of the darkness. I slowly eased around the sharp corner, and the pickup’s bouncing air freshener resembled Judith’s bobbing earrings. The hollow feeling in my chest made it hard to breathe.
Beth adjusted her seatbelt. “What do you miss the most about Mom?”
Everything. Her question opened a floodgate of memories: the times my wife and I sat together while the kids opened Christmas presents, the summer afternoons we watched them play croquet in the backyard, or when we tried to guess the number of grandkids we’d eventually spoil. “I never realized how much I enjoyed wrapping my arms around her and cuddling.”
Beth’s fingers almost snapped the necklace. “Cuddling? Do you miss the sex?” Her voice stretched like a rubber band.
The pickup swerved, but I straightened it. “What in tarnation? We taught you better.”
“Okaaaaayyyy.” Her voice twanged like a plucked piano wire.
“What brought that on?” I glared at my impulsive child. She hadn’t gotten her boldness from her mother. It could only have come from me.
Her left hand toyed with the necklace that always became a plaything when she planned a scatterbrained idea. And she’d been twisting it all afternoon. “Dad, why haven’t you dated? You’re good-looking at forty-two. Women love tall men, and you’ve got a full head of hair.”
My stomach tightened. “What’s gotten into you? Are you in need of a new mother? Or do you want a grandma for your boys?”
“Neither. I’m concerned about you. You’re grouchy. You’re alone. My boys ask why Grandpa is angry when they visit. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you.”
The eggnog in my stomach gurgled. “If I want to date, I’ll consider it. But it’s too soon.”
“No, it’s not. You let the dishes pile up in the sink, you don’t wash your clothes, you don’t clean the house, and you don’t ride the horses. Why did you stop going to the rodeo? You and Mom received the top award at Grand Island three years ago. ‘Philip and Judith York, Champion Ropers 2018.’”
“I quit going because your mom isn’t here. That’s why, and I refuse to date. Just drop the idea. You have two boys and a husband to care for, so quit telling me how to live my life.” Would my life ever return to normal without Judith?
“Dad, I miss Mom as much as you do. But she’s still anchored in your heart, and you haven’t let her go. You should move on with your life.”
“Just stop it, Beth. I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Then I’ll change the subject.”
Thank God. It’s about time. “Do I have a choice? You usually say what you want, anyway.”
“See, I’m right. You’re in a cranky mood. Anyway, Gene Wilcox stopped me at the supermarket, and he asked when you’d settle the account for his damaged horse trailer.”
“Blast it. I’ll settle when I get the money.”
“You always keep short accounts. How much do you owe?”
“More than I’ve got. Drop it, because it’s none of your business.”
I let Beth out in front of her white brick home, and she hugged me, which I assumed was a way of apologizing. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mention dating again, but I knew she would.
She said, “In the morning, Kim and I will be over to help clean the house after today’s gathering.”
Housework was my least favorite activity. I wouldn’t do most household chores unless someone helped or forced me. “Thanks for offering. It’s appreciated.”
She kissed my cheek and pointed to her living room window. “David left a light on and is waiting up. I’ll see you in the morning.” She climbed the front steps and disappeared inside.
I made the lonely thirty-minute drive back to a dark and empty ranch house.
In my study, I plopped into the chair and looked at the picture of Beth and Kim on my desk. A photographer took the picture at their high school graduation, and the girls looked radiant in their caps and gowns. Kim was Beth’s best friend, an orphan who’d lived across the road with Reverend Gerald and Rachel Johnson. When the girls were growing up, it was common to find them at either of the homes.
Their birthdays were in early March, four days apart, and Judith put on a big weekend celebration, inviting all their friends. Kim was more levelheaded and not impulsive, like Beth, who always dreamed up crazy ideas. She’d set Tom up on a blind date, which hadn’t ended well when the girl asked to move in with him. More memories.
I picked up a picture of Tom. He’d gone to Nebraska University after high school and would receive his degree next May. Why couldn’t Beth have been like him? No matter how much Judith cajoled, Beth refused to go to college, even on a scholarship, because she was in a hurry to marry David.
At least my wife and I had one sensible child. How could we have parented such a crazy, problem-causing daughter? Being a mother to two boys hadn’t dampened her scheming.
My stomach tightened. If I bet a hundred dollars that she wouldn’t drop the idea of me dating, I’d win hands down.