The Empty Nesters Read online

  Tootsie thought of Smokey’s final message. After Sunday dinner, he’d given her a hug, kissed her on the forehead, and said, “I love you, darlin’.”

  Sissy removed her phone from the pocket of her shirt and called someone named Henrietta. Within five minutes, two ladies were at the house, and only a few minutes after that the funeral-home director was there to take Midge away. Tootsie walked beside the gurney all the way to the hearse, kissed her friend on the forehead, and told her goodbye.

  She watched the vehicle pass her old red truck at the end of the driveway. One was taking away her last living childhood friend; the other was on the way to take her home. Luke bailed out of the truck and jogged across the yard. He opened his arms, and she walked into them.

  “She’s gone.” Tootsie laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m the only one left of the three little girls who grew up together. I’m so glad that I came today instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

  “What can I do to help?” he asked.

  “You can wait right here. I need to go tell Sissy that I’m leaving. She’s got everything under control. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock we need to be at the Manchester Cemetery for the service,” Tootsie said.

  “Why so quick? Can all her family make it that fast?” Luke frowned.

  “It’s what she wanted, and she hated the idea of embalming. Plus, the only family she has is Sissy, and whatever friends are left probably live within a fifteen-mile radius. News travels fast amongst folks in this area. I’ll be right back. Wait for me in the truck.” Tootsie broke free from his embrace and crossed the yard to the porch.

  The first thing Diana found out that Monday morning was that there was no internet service in Scrap, Texas. She sat down on the top step of the porch and fretted about whether to call her supervisor and explain the situation. Maybe she should just take a couple of weeks’ vacation time and then fly back to San Antonio. When she heard the rumble of a vehicle turning into the driveway, she shaded her eyes with her hand and watched the truck as it came closer and closer.

  Tootsie looked like she’d been through a wringer backward when Luke helped her out of the truck. She forgot all about her job situation as she jogged over. “Are you all right? You’re pale as a sheet.”

  “I just lost my last childhood friend. I’m so glad that I went today.” Tootsie wiped tears from her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry.” Diana threw an arm around her shoulders and fell in beside her. “What can I do?”

  “Y’all being here with me is the best thing you can do for me right now. Letting me be part of your lives and be needed,” Tootsie sighed. “Now, you need to go help Luke get the groceries and supplies in the house.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Diana said and then yelled as she opened the door, “Carmen. Joanie. Tootsie needs you.”

  Luke already had two bags in each hand when she got back to the truck. “This is going to be tough on her. She just lost Smokey a month ago and now Midge. And her army wives friend, Delores, is failing.”

  “Got any ideas about what we can do to help?” Diana picked up a couple of bags and followed him to the house.

  “Keep her busy so she doesn’t have time to worry and think. She’s probably already seeing her own end in sight,” Luke suggested. “And by the way, you look nice today. That sweater is the exact color of your eyes.”

  “Thank you.”

  It might have seemed strange to someone else, but with all the recent events, his comment was a life preserver in the midst of an ocean—a simple compliment to hang on to when the stormy waters of life were sweeping over her.

  “I hope she lives to be a hundred,” Luke said. “She and Uncle Smokey have been like grandparents to me. I don’t want to think about life without her.”

  Diana had faced death with her own parents and then more recently with Smokey. But just the thought of losing Tootsie brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, but that little niggling voice in the back of her mind said that Tootsie was the same age as Midge.

  Carmen swung the door open for them. “Tootsie says that she’s going to help put things away. I told her that we could do it all, but . . .”

  “She needs to stay busy,” Diana whispered. “Let her do whatever she wants.”

  After a brief nod, Carmen went out to the truck and hauled in more bags. “Who’d have thought that five people would eat up this much food in only a week?”

  “I hope there’s some extra in those bags, because we need to show up at the dinner after the funeral tomorrow with a casserole or a dessert in our hands,” Tootsie said.

  “I’ll make hot rolls,” Joanie offered. “Folks often forget to bring the bread.”

  “I could do a chocolate sheet cake.” Diana unloaded the bags. “It only takes thirty minutes from start to finish. I’ll make it in the morning so it will be fresh.”

  She pushed away the thoughts of what people would bring to the house when Tootsie died. Lord have mercy! She had to stop thinking about such things. She made a silent vow to spend more time with Tootsie when they got back to Sugar Run.

  “Thank y’all. Smokey did that kind of thing when we had to go to funerals before. Thank God y’all came with me, or I’d be takin’ in store-bought cheesecake or a vegetable tray,” Tootsie said. “When we get this stuff put away, I’ve got something to say while we have dinner. Thank you for cooking while I was gone, Carmen.”

  “Tootsie, I’m so, so sorry.” Carmen’s eyes floated in tears as she hugged Tootsie. “What can I do?”

  “You’re here with me, and you’ve got a nice little dinner made. Let’s eat. My mama always said that food and friends were a great comfort,” Tootsie said.

  Luke sniffed the air. “I smell something spicy.”

  “It don’t take much to make a gingerbread with warm lemon sauce for dessert,” Carmen told him. “It’s in the oven with the casserole.”

  “Good Lord, I’m going to gain fifty pounds while we’re here.” Tootsie’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “And you’d still be tiny even if you did,” Diana told her.

  When they finished reloading the pantry, refrigerator, and freezer, they gathered around the dining room table, sitting in the same places that Tootsie had assigned the day before. Luke said grace, and then Tootsie raised her glass of tea.

  “What are we toasting?” Diana asked.

  “To Midge and to lifelong friendship,” Tootsie said.

  “To Midge,” they chanted as they raised their glasses and took a drink.

  “I’ve got something to say now while we pass this food around the table. I don’t want to be mollycoddled. Midge was ready to go, and although I’ll miss her, I’m glad she’s gone. Seeing her like that broke my heart and helped me see what a huge blessing it was that Smokey had good health up to the last minute of his life.” She stopped and took another sip of her tea. “I’m already in the grieving process, and I don’t intend to go back and start all over with denial. I’m going to let Midge go with dignity, in her own way and her own time.”

  “That’s good, Aunt Tootsie,” Luke said.

  “And now for the rest of the story . . .” Tootsie glanced around the table. “I’m very grateful that y’all are on this journey with me.”

  Diana’s breath caught in her chest. Had Tootsie insisted that they go with her because she was sick and knew this would be her last trip?

  “We’re the ones who are grateful that you brought us along. We need this time with you to get through our own problems,” Carmen said.

  “When we get old, the biggest blessing in the world is simply to be needed,” Tootsie said. “Now enough of that. Tomorrow we’ll go to Midge’s service, have dinner with Sissy and the people who loved Midge, then come home to live, love, and make an attempt at happiness. That’s what Smokey would tell me, and that’s what we’re goin’ to do. I hope I live to be a hundred, but if my time is up tomorrow, I hope I die like Smokey did.” She snapped her fingers. “One minute on this side of
eternity and then, in a single breath, on the other side.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carmen said.

  Life, love, and happiness. Life, one doesn’t have a choice about. Love is negotiable. Happiness—that’s the tough one, Diana thought.

  Chapter Nine

  Diana hated funerals, but there was no way she wouldn’t go with Tootsie to support her the day of Midge’s service. But by midafternoon, she felt like the walls were closing in on her. Tootsie was surrounded by people she knew, so Diana thought it was all right to slip out the back door. She rounded the corner of the house and walked through the yard and into the pecan orchard out beyond that. She’d gone quite a way into the wooded area when she found a log with all the bark peeled off that made a perfect bench.

  During the past month, too much sadness had surrounded her, and she needed a break, something to take away the heaviness that felt like a cold, wet blanket on her shoulders. Too much change, too quickly, was taking its toll on her. First, Smokey dying, then the girls leaving, Carmen’s divorce, and now Tootsie’s best friend was gone. She heaved a sigh of relief just knowing that Tootsie hadn’t wanted the whole bunch of them to join her because she was sick, too.

  Thank goodness she, Joanie, and Carmen had all packed a Sunday outfit just in case Tootsie wanted them to go to church with her. But the flowing muted-green skirt and matching emerald cardigan Diana had brought with her sure weren’t what she’d call right for a funeral. A north wind rained leaves down around her and went right through her thin sweater. She gathered the front of it in a fist to pull it closer to her and watched a squirrel dash up one of the trees, harvest a pecan still in the green hull, and scamper down to the ground to dig a hole and bury it.

  “I wish I could bury a lot of things like that,” she muttered.

  Tootsie sat down beside her. “Amen. I had to get away from all those people. It brought back too many memories of the dinner we had after Smokey’s funeral. I’m feeling like I’m next in line.”

  “Don’t get in a hurry.” Diana laid a hand over Tootsie’s. “Drag your feet a little. Heaven is timeless, so Smokey won’t realize how many years it takes you to get there.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” Tootsie said.

  “A sweet little elderly lady at church told me that when my folks died while I was in college. I went into a depression, and she brought brownies over to my apartment. I told her how I felt, and she really gave me a lecture that ended with that idea. That my parents were in a place where there were no clocks or calendars, and they’d want me to live a full life so that when I joined them, neither they nor I would have regrets. But sometimes these days I feel a lot overwhelmed, so I know you do, too.” Diana picked a few yellow leaves from Tootsie’s hair.

  “I guess I’d better get back in there before I’m missed, but thanks for the encouragement. Maybe I will drag my feet since I’d really like to stick around long enough to see all of y’all become grandmothers.” Tootsie stood up and headed back toward the house.

  That grandmother business is a long, long time in the future. Rebecca is only eighteen. Diana frowned.

  You were only twenty when she was born, Diana’s mother’s voice reminded her.

  “What are you thinking about that’s so serious?” Luke sat down where Tootsie had been.

  He startled Diana so badly that she jumped and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. She quickly righted herself, and he released her.

  “Being a grandmother,” Diana admitted.

  “How do you feel about that?” Luke asked.

  “I have no idea,” she said.

  “You’re still young enough to have more children, so maybe you’d rather start all over and refill your empty nest.” He brushed the falling leaves from his dark pants.

  “Not me. Been there. Done that. Have several T-shirts to prove it, and I’ll get used to the empty nest,” she answered with an inward shiver. She missed Rebecca so much that her heart ached, but the idea of starting over again at her age almost made her break out in hives.

  “That sounds pretty definite.” He sat down beside her again.

  “It’s the truth. What’s so funny about it?” She pulled her cardigan tighter around her body.

  He removed his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “It’s not really funny—but it is. I’ve never been a father and never will be. Mama didn’t believe in vaccinations, so I had the mumps and a high fever to go with them before I ever started school. That’s one of the reasons I’ve never been in a really serious relationship. Most women want a family . . . I didn’t see a reason to start something that I couldn’t finish.”

  She inhaled, and the aroma of his jacket—something woodsy and masculine—put a few extra numbers on her pulse rate. “Are you sure that you can’t have kids?”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “Had the test run, and they said I’d have about a one-in-a-million chance of ever getting a woman pregnant.”

  “Why’d you even have it done?” she asked.

  “Mama always felt guilty about not letting the doctor give me the vaccinations.” He shrugged. “When she was on her deathbed, I told her the doctor said there was a chance I could have a family. That seemed to help her, and it wasn’t the worst lie. You ever told one like that?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “When did you lose your mama?”

  “When I was in college. Yours still living?” he asked.

  “Lost them, her and Dad both, when I was in college, too,” she answered.

  “So there you go.” He moved closer to her and took her hand in his. “We’ve got a lot in common. No parents. You don’t want more children. I can’t produce babies. Evidently, that’s why we’ve escaped out here to a pecan orchard free of sadness. I’d tell a joke just so we could laugh, if I could think of one. They say laughter is good for the soul.”

  She glanced over to find him staring at her. She felt as if he were seeing right into her soul. He let go of her hand and draped his arm around her shoulders. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned toward her. His eyelashes closed and rested on his cheekbones. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to see what the attraction was all about, but just before their lips met, that pesky squirrel dropped a pecan from a low branch and hit her right on top of her head. Even though it was only about half the size of her thumb, it felt like a boulder.

  She jerked back and grabbed her head. “Ouch!”

  “What?” Luke’s eyes flew open.

  “Blame it on that squirrel sitting up there.” She pointed up. “He doesn’t appreciate PDAs during a funeral dinner. He’s throwing pecans.”

  Luke’s chuckle turned into a laugh.

  His laughter was so infectious that she giggled. “I guess Madam Fate is telling us that even though there’s an attraction here, we should think long and hard about this age difference.”

  “You’re attracted to me?” He sounded shocked.

  “Yes, I am.” She nodded. “But you’ve got to remember I’ve been divorced for five years, and I can count on the fingers of one hand how many dates I’ve been on. So it could be that I’m just ready to—”

  Before she could say another word, he tipped up her chin and kissed her. It started out sweet but then deepened into something longer and more passionate. No one had ever sent shivers down her spine with a first kiss, not even Gerald, but she shouldn’t compare the two. With Gerald, it had been the first time for both of them, and they hadn’t been quite sure how to position their noses.

  “Hello!” Carmen’s voice floated through the air. “Tootsie says that it’s time for us to leave.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Luke said as he stood up.

  Diana handed him his coat, and together they took a few steps toward the house.

  “There you are. It’s a little chilly out here, isn’t it?” Carmen shivered.

  Depending on whether you’re making out like sophomores in high school, Diana thought, or just sitti
ng like a bump on a log, watching a squirrel bury pecans.

  “Little bit,” she said, “but I had to get away from that heavy feeling in the house.”

  Luke lengthened his stride and went on ahead of them. “I’ll see y’all in the house.”

  “I hid on the front porch swing,” Carmen admitted. “Sissy has a quilt out there, so I wrapped up in it. I wish I could say that I found all the answers to this divorce thing, but I didn’t. It was peaceful, though.”

  “Let’s hope this is the end of cold weather and that all we have is sunny days for the next few weeks.”

  “You need to get out of the forest so you can see the sky,” Carmen said. “The reason we’re leaving is because there’s a storm brewing off to the southwest. Tootsie’s afraid if it starts to rain, we’ll get that big motor home stuck in the mud on the way back to Scrap.”

  “What’s the weatherman saying?” Diana slowed down so that Carmen didn’t have to run on the way back to Sissy’s house.

  “That we’ve got a solid week of rain and possible thunderstorms. Sissy said she’s so glad that God gave us a sunny day for the graveside services. Even though it’s nippy and there’s a wind, at least we didn’t have to shiver under umbrellas today.”

  “Amen to that.” Diana caught her first glimpse of the storm clouds rolling in from somewhere down around Paris. A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder followed it in a few seconds.

  Tootsie leaned out the door of the motor home and motioned them to hurry. “We’ve got to get home,” she yelled when they were close. “That thing’s coming on fast. Sissy just heard that there’s a tornado on the ground in Paris, and we’re right in line for it. I don’t want to be in this tin can or stuck on the road, either, when it gets here.”

  Diana and Carmen jogged the rest of the way and had just gotten inside when the first big drops of rain hit the windshield. The twenty-minute drive to the house took twice that long, but the rain had slackened off slightly when they arrived. The four ladies dashed inside, leaving Luke to get things leveled and the extension cord plugged in to the electrical outlet on the side of the house.