Waking Up Joy Page 13

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  I woke up later, my cheek on the rough seat of the pew, to the feeling of someone’s hand brushing the hair back from my forehead.

  Momma?

  I stretched and found myself looking into the dark lashed eyes of the one I’d dreamed of waking up to my whole life. That electricity I told you about jolted through me and in trying to sit up too quickly, I saw stars. Course, the stars might’ve been caused by the proximity of Jimmy’s face to my own.

  Lord help me.

  “Sh-sh. Lay back down.”

  “Jimmy?”

  He nodded, still smoothing my hair away from my eyes. He was seated on the floor facing me. His long legs stretched beneath the pews and he leaned his broad back against the pew in front of me.

  “Joy, what are you doing here?” He took my hand in his, traced his fingers along my jaw line.

  Oh Lord, help me. I want to kiss this man.

  I blinked, noted the warmth sliding from my hand up to my neck, and tried to decide if maybe I was back in my coma having a dream about Jimmy, my lover, or if we really were together in the balcony of the church. I inhaled, and sure enough, his Old Spice cologne filled my senses. I touched his cheek, just to be sure, and electricity shot up my shoulder.

  “I was just listening to you play piano.” My voice was scratchy from sleep.

  “I finished hours ago. Your family is worried sick. They think you ran away, maybe found another roof to jump off of.” He chuckled, but I was too tired to laugh with him.

  “I don’t care,” I said, my eyes sleepy, but never leaving his. I wanted to be away from everyone, to be alone, but I’d be lying if I said it bothered me that Jimmy had interrupted my solitude.

  “Especially, your niece. She said you missed your date with Kyle Christie.”

  My heart fluttered.

  “I feel like a jerk. Poor Ruthie.”

  Poor Doc. I would call him tomorrow.

  “It wasn’t a date,” I said. “But he was coming over to see me.”

  Jimmy had nothing to say to this.

  “I should go call one of my sisters.”

  He put his hand on my arm. “Stay. Rest. I’ll get Nanette a message.”

  I thought that maybe Ruthie and Nanette might understand, so I lay my head back down and let my eyes close. It occurred to me that this had been the longest conversation Jimmy and I’d had in years.

  It was some time before Jimmy returned. I was sitting up in my pew, staring through the now open balcony curtains into the darkened church. He lowered himself into the corner of my pew, so close that tingles started from the tips of my toes and worked their way up through my torso. The truth was, I loved a man who had a lot of explaining to do, and so far he hadn’t even begun to set things right, although his thigh pressing into mine as we sat in the pew beside each other might weaken my resolve.

  He was there beside me, his breathing filling my ears in the silence of the church. Didn’t his proximity mean something, even if we were still so far apart? I didn’t know, but I was content to sit beside him all night long.

  Okay, I wasn’t really content. In fact, I was really quite agitated with all the butterflies and electrical currents exploding from his shoulder over to mine. What can I say? At least now, he was not a married man. And I’m not saying I’m glad Fern was passed away. I’d go without Jimmy my whole life if Fern could still be alive and Fernie and her brothers still have a mother. But truth is, she wasn’t alive, and all I’m saying is that the situation was what it was.

  I still didn’t know how Jimmy felt about me. He was wearing his wedding band after five years of widowhood, and I, of course, had both loved and detested him for a couple of decades, but mostly loved. My heart was still his, because he’d never bothered to give it back, and the good Lord had never seen fit to answer my prayer to forget him if he couldn’t be mine. Momma used to say that the ways of heaven are a mystery, and that much I would agree with.

  I don’t know what you’re doing, Lord, but thank you for this sweet moment.

  Sitting by Jimmy alone in the church still steeped in the joy of his music was more than I could’ve expected. As far as I was concerned, we could’ve sat there, just like that, side by side, our shoulders barely touching for the rest of my life, and it would have been enough for me, but after a while, he shifted and put his arm around me.

  Oh.

  I was wrong. I wanted more.

  I sat very still, feeling the warmth from his arm against my shoulders, and it made me think of the time in the water when he cradled me and walked me into the creek, the cold water rushing around us. I remember how the water carried the ugliness of that day away in its current, and how my Jimmy’s arm around my shoulders had warmed me later in his truck on the way home.

  A tear for the past trailed down my cheek.

  Jimmy was so close, his heat burned through me. I inhaled a shaky breath, trying to force the old sadness away, but a lone sob held in for decades escaped.

  Great. So much for keeping my feelings to myself.

  I heard Jimmy’s intake of breath, felt his arm stiffen behind me, and—maybe it was just because we were in a church, but I wondered where God had been that day, and why he’d let Jimmy leave me.

  It’s a fair question, God.

  I held back the next sob and it came out anyway, as a yelp. Yes, I was a sight, let me tell you. Snorting and heaving, trying to hold back a raging river of years and years and years of rejection, empty hope, and unanswered prayer. I waited for Jimmy to get up and walk away like he had before, but an amazing thing happened.

  “You don’t have to leave,” he said. “You can stay here.”

  “In the church?”

  “I’ll drive you home when you’re ready. Or—we can just stay up here.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I didn’t want to go home. This was the most peace I’d had since I got home from the hospital. And he was there.

  After a while, Jimmy’s arm relaxed behind me. His breath grew even. He said nothing at all, but gently, tentatively, as if he thought I might be the one to run away from him, he pulled me closer. The idea that he might care if I was the one who ran away was like fresh rain washing the countryside clean. Gently, I leaned against him, testing the way his shirt felt on my cheek, how his scent permeated the air around me, and the way his heart pounded a rhythm that calmed me and steadied my breathing.

  Jimmy.

  I almost whispered it out loud. His breath caressed my cheek. My heart fluttered.

  I want you back.

  I couldn’t say it aloud, but I raised my palm and pressed it against Jimmy’s heart. When I raised my face, his lips caught mine in the lightest feather of a kiss, just like in the hospital, only this time I wasn’t frozen in a coma. This time I didn’t miss my chance. I reached around his neck and the longing of too many years parted my lips in a moan that echoed through the balcony. It was a forbidden kiss, I suppose, since we were alone in the church balcony, sprawled out on a pew in the dark and my beloved’s ring finger encircled by a symbol of a marriage to his late wife, but obviously Jimmy wasn’t worried about that. His arms wrapped around me and when he pulled me closer, I would have given him anything he wanted, but he only took one very long kiss. And it was a kiss to stop the earth from spinning.

  In the moonlight coming through the balcony window, I saw that his eyes were closed, leaving me to believe that maybe he’d been asleep during the whole kiss. But he’d said my name. And then as if to confirm my thoughts, he said it again. I sighed.

  This would happen, I whispered, not even bothering to keep my thoughts in my head since Jimmy was asleep. “We finally kiss, Jimmy, and you’re asleep.”

  I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad, which was so often how it was being around that man. As he shifted, he tightened his arm on me, and so I gave in, at least for the night, and snuggled up to Jimmy, imagining what it would be like to fall asleep like that every night.

  I smiled to myself, my la
st thought being that I couldn’t wait to tell Carey that I slept with Jimmy Cornsilk.

  Chapter Nineteen

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  As I closed the church doors behind me and took the sidewalk over to Miss Donna’s shop, I felt threads of hope stretching behind me and knew Jimmy and I were still connected. Just how that would look in the coming weeks, I had no idea, but I did know that the feeling of unsettled business that I’d always had wasn’t just my overactive imagination.

  In Miss Donna’s, Donna herself greeted me with a smile and poured a cup of coffee.

  “You’re up early this morning, Joy.”

  I thanked her for the coffee and she set the whole pot beside me before excusing herself for a few minutes. I sat at the café counter and sipped my coffee as the tinkle of the bell signaled a few early morning travelers coming in for Honeybuns and Orange Juice. When she came back, I’d refilled my own cup and helped myself to donuts I knew Ruthie had delivered to her the day before.

  “You know,” Donna said. “These donuts are usually fresher.”

  I washed the donut down with the coffee, gave her a guilty smile. “I’m sorry to show up before you’re open. I haven’t been home.”

  She smiled, as if she’d known. “It’s okay. But you should know that your family was in here looking for you last night. How you doing?”

  “Good,” I assured her. “Just been spending time with an old friend.”

  “Anyone in particular?” I knew she wasn’t prying and I appreciated her for caring enough to ask.

  “Someone I thought I’d lost.”

  “So . . . You didn’t lose him? Or her? Is this a romantic thing?”

  “Him,” I admitted with a smile. “And I don’t know.”

  “Still friends?” she asked.

  I nodded yes and she came around and sat beside me at the counter, while we sipped coffee together. That’s what I’d always loved about Donna, even when we were still in high school. She asked questions, but she didn’t really expect you to answer unless you wanted to.

  “Do you think men and women can be just friends, Donna?”

  She snorted. “I used to say no, but sure. Sometimes, at our age, it’s best to be just friends.”

  “Our age?” I chided her. “You may think you’re old, Donna, but I, for one, don’t think I am.”

  “Forties,” she said.

  “We’re the same age,” I reminded. “But I think I know what you mean.”

  “I guess I’ve always thought that friends are forever, so friends might be best. Love on the other hand, isn’t always for that long.”

  I sipped the last of my coffee and set the cup down with a sigh, the click on the counter echoing along with the clink of spoons and plates. The diner side had opened up and the two girls who worked for Donna were busy running about in their turquoise aprons and pink waitress dresses.

  “I wish we could have both, love and friendship, don’t you, Donna?”

  “Sure,” she said. “A girl can hope. I mean, look at you. We thought we lost you, honey. And now here we are having coffee and talking about our man problems.”

  “You’re a good friend.”

  “I’m glad you’re alive, Joy. And glad you got past Carey and out of that prison.” I thought about defending Carey, but Donna was no fool.

  “She probably doesn’t know I’m still out.” We both laughed.

  Outside, everywhere I turned, someone greeted me with a hello.

  “Glad to see you, Joy.” Mrs. Reed, the Kindergarten teacher on her way to school.

  “Hello, Miss Joy!” A former Sunday school student.

  “Happy you’re okay, Joy.” Officer Gray, not to be confused with the mean old sheriff.

  “Joy!” Jack, the old town landscaper. “Glad you woke up, honey.”

  “Joy!” A gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek from Peter, my favorite gossip, who loves my strawberry-lemon cake and one of the newest members of the Tulip House for Girls fundraising committee. “Joy, I’m glad to see you out and about. I need to get that strawberry-lemon cake recipe.” I smiled. “Thelma was going through withdrawals while you were in the hospital.”

  “It’s a secret.” I teased. “And I saw her yesterday. She was fine.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Then, you haven’t heard. I thought your sisters would tell you.”

  “I haven’t exactly seen them since yesterday,” I said.

  I leaned closer, sensing something was wrong.

  “What’s up, Peter? Is everything okay?”

  “Thelma had a stroke, right out of the blue, yesterday after she left Momma’s Curls.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, and meant it. “Poor Thelma.” That’s when I noticed how pale Peter was, how dark the circles under his eyes.

  “Of course, all strokes happen out of the blue, but it was just so much more surprising that it happened to Thelma. But she can talk slowly, and the doctors said that besides needing a wheelchair for a while, she’ll be okay. They say if she works hard, she’ll regain her usual speech, maybe be able to walk with a cane.” My heart swelled with emotion. Thelma, in a wheelchair. Not able to talk at her usual speed. Thelma loved to talk.

  I gave Peter a small smile. “I’m glad she’s going to be okay. And you’re a good friend, Peter. Glad she has you.” I really was glad. I didn’t like Thelma sometimes, but I did love her. I’d known her for as long as I’d known Peter and Donna. We’d all been good friends in high school, but Thelma had held onto the teenage pettiness a lot longer than the rest of us. Still, she didn’t deserve to be stuck in a wheel chair.

  “I’ll tell her you said that. Thank the good Lord above she’ll still be able to talk.”

  Indeed.

  “Someday I’ll get that strawberry-lemon recipe from you, but obviously she won’t be at the meeting today.”

  “No problem. Ruthie and I’ll take care of the cupcakes.”

  He patted me on the shoulder as he walked away, and some of my grudge against him loosened. Peter used to be one of my best friends, my junior prom date, and he was so kind to Thelma, even though she had always been a bit difficult. Maybe I’d been too hard on him, just because he acted ridiculous at Momma’s funeral.

  After doing a little shopping in the handful of stores, I headed back to my car. As I stepped into my cherry red Chevy, for a minute I was overcome by the love in Spavinaw Junction and had to pull the tissue out of my pocket.

  Poor Thelma.

  I was thinking about how I was always so preoccupied with Talley stuff that I never really stopped to think that much about all my friends. And there were quite a few of them, I guessed, judging by all the people who’d wished me well. So, why hadn’t any of them besides the reverend been out to see me yet?

  A loud knock at my window liked to have made me jump out of my seat. It was Carey, shaking her finger at me through the glass, and then I remembered. Carey kept everyone away, except Jimmy. Even the meals that people from church made for me were delivered through Carey. It made me sad that she didn’t even realize that it would have raised my spirits to have more visitors from town.

  I rolled down the window.

  “Where in the tarnation have you been?” She planted her hands on her hips. “We have all been worried sick about you. Who in the world stays out all night without calling someone?”

  “Hi, Sis. I was thinking we need to have a party.” I really hadn’t, but as soon as it rolled of my tongue, I couldn’t believe we’d never invited the residents of Spavinaw Junction to a party at the big Talley house.

  Carey started wagging her finger again, but stopped when I spouted out my idea.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, let’s have a party out at the Talley house.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Absolutely not. You know we don’t have parties for the community at our house. Even if you were ready for more company, and you aren’t, there’s too much at stake.”

  “Not anymore,” I said. “We have a new chimney and it’s fre
e of charms. Nothing embarrassing to hide.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but I stopped her short. Gone was the sweet Carey from the beauty shop the day before. So much for my hope that she was on my side.

  “Bring those Whoopie pies you make so well, Carey.” I rolled up the window, but then rolled it back down again. “And while you’re at it, make some of those with that poor husband of yours. Maybe it’ll loosen you up a little.”

  With that, I backed away, window down, careful not to run over my sister’s toes as she stumbled along side of me shouting something about how she didn’t need to make Whoopie pies with her husband.

  “What’s so great about Whoopie pies?” she shouted. “And why would my husband and I want to make them together? I want to bring something else!” I saw her stamp her foot in the rearview mirror. “I don’t even like Whoopie pies!”

  By the time she let me out of the parking lot, a little crowd of older women were giggling and pointing in front of the church. My sister stood with her back to them, arms crossed and looking huffy as the meaning of my joke set in.

  Chapter Twenty

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  The next morning I did some more visiting around town, enjoying my newfound freedom, but when I got back at lunchtime, everyone was at my house sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Where have you been, Joy?” Nanette asked.

  At first I was just so surprised at Nanette’s tone that I stood there, but then I realized she was serious.

  “What am I? A teenager? How long have you all been here?”