Waking Up Joy Read online

  “You all aren’t going to believe this. Pull me up.”

  We women drew closer as they hauled him up. He wore a big goofy smile on his face and in his hand, he held up a small shiny, gold brick.

  Heavens to Betsy.

  “Found this behind the rock wall of the well,” he said. “Our so-called Talley luck has been lining the god-forsaken well all this time.”

  I shivered, wrapped my arms around myself, closed my eyes.

  Momma and Daddy, you would have loved this.

  A shiver whispered up my arms and to the back of my neck. I swear I heard Daddy murmur behind me.

  “You can breathe now, Joy.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

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  I’m still breathing, so I obviously didn’t kill myself. I’m glad my sisters and brothers finally let go of that notion. I do want to say that sometimes I’m tempted to think I’m still in my coma and that I never woke up, but every time I walk out onto Momma’s porch and the sun hits my face, I know that I am awake. I can see the orchard, its trees empty of leaves that have long blown away in the wind that came with winter and the baby miracle apple tree sheltered from frost with a layer of gunny sacks and hay arranged by my beloved to protect it until it is strong enough to weather a winter on its own. I guess we won’t know until spring if it’s going to make it, but I have this feeling that it will.

  After finding the treasure, we were able to pay off the outstanding mortgage.

  Take that, Mr. Littleton.

  Now, we can afford to have our ancient house restored instead of torn down. I like to think Momma and Daddy would be happy to see how things have changed. I know Momma might be sad about the changes to the chimney, but she’d be glad to be free of all the luck, which is so undependable. Course, I think she is free of all those worries and superstitions now, having gone past that narrow gate the Reverend, her once lover, told her about, and where Daddy, who must be a saint, was allowed to wait for her. Jimmy swears that the angels there will sing better than him, but I don’t know. He’s pretty good.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not judging Momma and Daddy, or even the Talley people for being so superstitious. In fact, I honor them, and let’s face it. We’re rich now, and I can’t thank our ancestors enough.

  “We’re rich,” I whispered to Jimmy when he walked out on the porch and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

  “Yes, you are,” he said, wrapping his strong arms around me. “But you don’t need to go getting all high and mighty about it, Joy.”

  I laughed. “I can’t help it. Have you ever been poor?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Never mind.” Sometimes I could just kick myself for my stupidity. I knew he was poor when he was a kid. Poorer than I was, for sure. At least I had been rich in family. He hadn’t even had a father to speak of.

  Believe me. We never spoke of Jimmy’s father, not even when we paid to have the Spring of Good—or rather, bad—luck sealed up. Bobby was pretty upset about that, although Ruthie said nothing. I had expected her to be upset because of the magic water and all, but she had silently nodded when I mentioned our plans to seal up the hole where it poured into the ground.

  “For safety reasons,” I told them.

  Bobby and Ruthie’s boyfriend, Carl, helped Jimmy, River and Rory seal that hole with a cement barrier. Jimmy made a flower bed above it, filling it with rich dirt that he planted daffodil bulbs in. I couldn’t wait until spring when they would bloom at the same time as the Dogwoods and Redbuds, and then each year the daffodils would multiply until the box overflowed. Maybe I would separate the bulbs and hand them out to Bobby and Ruthie for their homes someday, and then later to the little ones. I couldn’t wait until then.

  Of course, you know that every fairytale, if fairytales were real, has to end in a wedding. And so did mine. We got married two days before Christmas. Since we aren’t short of change anymore, Jimmy bought us one of those light up nativity scenes and we put it out in the front yard, along with a great big star at the top of the house. I just want to say right now that I’ve had enough of roofs and chimneys, so I didn’t volunteer to hang that thing, and I made sure not to look when Bobby climbed out on the balcony, up on the shingles, and suspended that thing from the roof; but I loved that you could see it far down the road, lighting the way to our home in the country.

  They also hung evergreen boughs and tinsel all over the house inside and out, and a ball of mistletoe from a string suspended from the ceiling. Mistletoe just happens to be the Oklahoma state flower, by the way, so I don’t even want to know how Bobby came up with the great ball of it, but it was beautiful and every time someone turned around, kids and all, they had to kiss someone. Dozens of stockings hung from the mantle and around about the house, one for every Talley. In the corner was a big empty pickle barrel decorated with ribbons and bows where instead of wedding gifts for us, people could drop in gifts for the girls at Tulip House. I smiled at how full it already was.

  Above the mantle hung the biggest, gaudiest wreath that Carey and Nanette could make and then there were the trees. While we might not have useless charms hidden in the chimney anymore, we were happy to have baubles and belles hanging from Christmas trees all over the house. We didn’t have just one Christmas tree, either. We had them upstairs and down to make up for all the Christmases we had missed having together. When Jimmy said he wanted that many trees and why, I worried about Fernie’s feelings, that it would seem like we were discrediting her family’s past Christmases with her mom, but she didn’t mind.

  “We had him for all those years, Joy. Give Daddy his trees he missed with you.”

  I couldn’t help but hug that girl, even though, just like her mother, she shrugged away from affection, from everybody’s except River’s, of course.

  We stood in front of the mantle for the ceremony and Reverend Wilson officiated. I loved him for it. Out of everyone in the world, he knew how Jimmy and I felt to have endured so many years, so close, yet so far apart from each other. I was reminded of this once during his sermon when he looked up and his eyes landed on Momma’s picture. Reverend Wilson’s eyes alighted on Carey, who stood with Nanette beside me, he flashed her that wrinkled smile, and then rested his watery blue eyes back on me.

  Behind him, our friends from all over town—including Miss Donna, Peter in a tuxedo that I swear was from our prom, Mary Sue, Clara, and Thelma in her wheel chair looking smug, as if she had always known this would happen—were scattered about the house, the older people, wrinkled Cherokee faces and white scruffy chinned farmers that were such a big part of Spavinaw Junction, were all seated in Momma’s lace bedecked furniture. Lots of them had even dressed in red, gold, and green in honor of our Christmas wedding, which is saying a lot for the adults of Spavinaw Junction who live in boots, jeans, and snap-down western shirts most of the time, and I mean many of the girls, too.

  Ruthie and Bobby were both dressed up for the wedding, Ruthie having made her own red velvet dress that she dazzled in and a matching miniature Santa hat that she’d tied on Lucky’s head, and even River and Rory wore red shirts. They didn’t like them, I could tell, but by gosh, they were wearing them. Made me love them even more.

  Of course, my precious friend, Doc, did not come. That would’ve been too weird for everyone, but I’d heard he was dating someone that Fernie introduced him too. She’d said the woman was from Colcord, just a few miles over and was a pharmacist from a good family.

  Jimmy cleared his throat and I realized my mind had wondered. Tears threatened to spill as it hit me that Momma wasn’t there to see my happiness or Daddy to give me away, but somehow I knew they saw.

  Jimmy looked at me expectantly and I realized it was time for me to say those age old words, ‘I do’, but I didn’t, at least not yet. Instead, I held my breath, savoring the moment for as long as I could. And for a moment, I was in the hospital again, drowning in memories, hearing the nurses and doctors say that I was lost; and Daddy, having alw
ays watched over me like the best father ever, was leaning over me, whispering in my ear back into the furthest reaches of my memory where I was back on the cliff behind our house in the dark. I was just a little girl again, lost in the hollows, perched on that cliff’s edge above the caves—and then Daddy broke through the fog of my nightmare and he plucked me up in an embrace, saying, “You can breathe now, Joy. It’s okay.”

  Okay, Daddy.

  And so, I did, and then said, “I do.”

  Epilogue

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  Dear Aunt Joy,

  I have been meaning to give you this letter. Grandma Bess left it for you when she left mine. I know you will never believe that I forgot to give it to you when I gave you the others stuff from the chimney, so I hope you will forgive me and simply accept it now.

  Love,

  Ruthie

  I found the letter in the bottom of my stocking long after everyone had gone home, even Ruthie and Bobby, from our wedding.

  “What’s that?” Jimmy asked.

  “A letter from Momma.” I sat on the end of our bed.

  Our bed!

  Jimmy had one hand on a suitcase that he was about to carry downstairs. We were going on a honeymoon. I didn’t know where. It was a surprise, but the bar was set pretty low since I had never been further than Tulsa in all my life.

  It said My Joy on the front in what I recognized as Momma’s handwriting. The envelope was sealed shut and when I held it to my nose, I smelled Elmer’s.

  Ruthie. Bless your heart, honey. I would have shown you, anyway.

  I opened the envelope carefully with a letter opener from my dresser. Jimmy watched as I read a slip of paper that slid out. It was short, just a note.

  Dear Joy,

  I found this in the garden attached to the gate where I knew you waited for Jimmy at the same time every night before hiding with him in the apple tree (Yes, Dear, I always knew. I am your mother). I was devastated about what obviously happened to you (I figured it out when I read his letter, honey). And while I have since come to understand that Jimmy must have been a victim that day, too. At the time, I believed he was a bad influence on you.

  I didn’t want the letter falling into the wrong hands, and yet I could not bring myself to destroy it, either. Most of all, I didn’t want you to go away, so I hid the letter from you. I hope you find it at the right time. I’m sorry for keeping it from you all these years. With Love,

  Momma

  I pulled the folded letter from the envelope. My name was written on the outside in a hand that was less familiar, but a lingering memory of song lyrics written to me in Jimmy’s hand tugged at the outer reaches of my mind. I looked up at my husband whose eyes were locked on the letter.

  “It’s from you,” I said.

  He let go of the suitcase. It landed with a bang that echoed through the quiet house and sent Lucky skidding from the room.

  Joy,

  We have done a terrible thing, but I am glad my dad is dead. I know for a fact you are not the first person he hurt like that, but I hope you can find satisfaction that at least you were the last. I have replayed that day over and over in my head and I’m convinced he deserves where he’s at . . . washed right down to hell, I hope.

  But what I did to you, my Joy, my happiness, is worse than what we did to that devil. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how wrong I was for abandoning you, for getting Fern pregnant. I cannot find the right words. Even my songs die when I try to explain to you why I broke my promise. I don’t even know why, myself. I only know I am an idiot, I am worse, and I don’t deserve you anyway.

  I don’t expect you to believe me, after what I have done, but I’ve never loved another girl and I don’t want to marry Fern. I will die if I have to marry her. You are supposed to be my wife, Joy . . . only you.

  If you can forgive me, I am begging you, please take me back. Please meet me here tomorrow night, same time we always do. We can run away and get married. We can go see the world together, just like we planned. Maybe you won’t mind if the baby visits us sometimes when it’s born, but I want to marry you. I have to hold you again, Joy.

  I will be waiting here at the garden gate tomorrow night. Please, please forgive me.

  Please take me back. I will be waiting.

  I Love You, My Happiness.

  Jimmy

  I folded the fragile letter, its crackle the only thing breaking the silence. Jimmy sat down beside me on the bed and we both stared into the mirror, our images reflecting back the years that had passed since the note was written.

  So many years.

  And all this time I thought he just didn’t want me.

  “Momma found your letter.”

  A shadow darkened his caramel face, and suddenly each narrow wrinkle that splayed from his eyes and down his cheeks represented all the roads that’d led him away from me.

  “All this time,” he whispered, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

  I wanted to scream, to cry, to mourn our loss. In my mind, I ran through the house, turning over all the Christmas trees, wielding Momma’s picture across the room, turning over the grandfather clock, ripping the silver tinsel down, and even—forgive me Lord—turning over the glowing Nativity in the front yard with a huge blow to their heads, and then pausing to set baby Jesus aright. I did used to be a Sunday school teacher, mind you, and I wasn’t always coveting Jimmy as he sang my favorite songs on stage, only some of it. Okay, a lot, but that’s not the point. In my mind, I ran out to the orchard then and yanked up the miracle apple tree and flung it high into the night sky, and then I screamed—louder than I have ever screamed.

  In my mind, I’d just thrown the biggest temper tantrum in the world. In reality, I sat calmly on the bed, staring at my middle-aged self in the mirror, until Jimmy turned his hand over, opening his fist, his palm waiting. I pressed my palm against Jimmy’s. His fingers encircled mine, and then I found his eyes in the mirror. I saw him as he had been back then, face smooth and tanned, dark hair loose and wild, and eyes wide open with hope. I pictured him standing at the garden gate.

  “How long did you wait?”

  “All night.” He cleared his throat, looking down at our hands. “I went back the next night too. Five nights in all.”

  So he hadn’t given up, like I thought.

  “I would’ve gone with you,” I choked.

  He nodded.

  “I would have gone anywhere with you.”

  He couldn’t speak, but he let go of my hand and tapped his fist once to his heart, and then twice.

  “Anywhere,” I said, desperate for him to know.

  I watched him, my heart seemingly unable to beat, and I didn’t know what we should do next. He must have been heart sick to know that I had never received the letter, that my not showing up was not a rejection, and he had married Fern anyway. I waited as the truth sank in, wondering if he might be angry at Momma, if he might even cry—I know I would have—but instead, he turned to me and smiled.

  How can he smile?

  But he did, and then he stood, picked up the suitcase, and grabbed my hand. He pulled me from my seat on the bed and crushed me to his chest, his kiss carrying me through the garden gate in my mind and back into the present.

  “Let’s go,” he said, his dark eyes bright with a spark that I remembered from my coma dream.

  “Now. Go now?” I was wearing my robe, and nothing underneath it. “I thought we were leaving in the morning.”

  “Now,” he said. “Let’s go now.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, my heart starting to beat again. “Right . . . right now?”

  “Right now.”

  And in less than five minutes, the suitcases were in the bed of the truck, I was riding gunshot beside Jimmy and we were bouncing down the dirt road, the dogs chasing us toward the highway. Confident Ruthie and Bobby would take good care of them I rested my head on his shoulder and barely counted my blessings before I was asleep. When I awoke hours later,
after one bathroom break—yes still in my robe!—I was, besides still naked, carried over an unfamiliar threshold in the arms of my lover.

  My lover!

  My lover looked at me as my sleepy eyes cleared. He was waiting for a response.

  “It’s kind of small,” I said, my feet still dangling over his arm because he refused to put me down.

  “It is.”

  “The Christmas tree is a little sparse. Is that a starfish on top?”

  “Looks like a starfish.”

  “The fire place looks a little funny.”

  “It’s one of those newfangled electric ones.”

  “It doesn’t even have a chimney!”

  He shook his head.

  “The kitchen is tinier than what I’m used to.”

  “We won’t spend much time cooking while we’re here.” He playfully tugged at my robe.

  I heard a long sigh sweep through from the back of the cottage, like a wind blowing up from the hollows at home.

  “Where are we?”

  He carried me through the little house toward long sheer curtains that reached toward us in the cool morning breeze, out the French doors, and sat me gently down on a wooden deck. There was only blue as far as the eye could see. Salty air hit my face and the whoosh of waves bearing down on a sandy shore leading right up to a steep stairway off our deck filled the air around us.

  The ocean! Just like in my favorite romance novels.

  “You always said you wanted to see it.”

  I walked to the edge of the deck and leaned over the railing, arms wide. Jimmy’s hand encircled my waist and pulled me back, but I didn’t complain. I wasn’t known for having the best balance, now was I?

  “There’s so much air!”

  “And room to breathe,” Jimmy said.

  I breathed in;

  And maybe for the first time ever,

  my lungs were full.

  Acknowledgments

  My readers have been very patient waiting for Waking Up Joy, so I thank all of you first. I hope you will love the Talleys. Thank you to my excellent editor and dear friend, Amy Sue Nathan, who believed Waking Up Joy should be published a long time before it was. Thanks to Agent Chip MacGregor for insightful feedback and constant encouragement, to Jane Porter and the folks at Tule for choosing Waking Up Joy to be part of the amazing Tule Publishing Group, and to Lee Hyat for a beautiful cover.