I thought my mom and I had an eternity together. I still needed to get married, give her at least one grandchild. Plus we were supposed to be Dorothy and Sophia from The Golden Girls. Oh, how wrong I was. Time had run out for us. I was left with just the memories and pictures of our relationship. Moments like this I wished I had a sibling, but I don’t think I would wish this grief on any one.
“Miracle,” my Aunt Helen called from the kitchen. I knew she was probably trying to get me to eat something. Food was the last thing on my mind.
Now that everybody had finally left, the house seemed so big. And, the silence seemed so loud. From the day, I arrived back in Commons, my mom’s house was filled with relatives, friends and her customers from her flower shop. Today however, was by far the toughest. The last four days had been the longest four days of my life.
Wednesday morning, before my grandmother’s chicken were up, I got a phone call that tore my entire world apart. At first, I didn’t know if I had the strength to carry on after my cousin Halina, said “Miracle, Aunt Hannah was killed in a car wreck.”
I started screaming, “No, no, no.” I was a total mess, but I managed to pull myself together. It was one thing to move a thousand miles away from home and come home for holidays. But it was another thing to come back home to my mother’s funeral. I hated coming for funerals, so I always sent a flower and a card with a $100 in it. This time I had to come home.
“Miracle, I put the food in smaller containers and placed them in the fridge.” My Aunt Helen startled me, I was in deep thought. She was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a blue apron tied around her waist looking like the spitting image of my mom. They both were medium height, heavy set women with long black hair and big brown eyes. “I fixed your plate and it’s on the table ready for you.”
I could hear my aunt talking, but I was focusing on the pictures on my mother’s mantle. The one in the middle was the most recent one we had taken just a few months earlier when I came home for the annual Newton 4th of July bash. Every relative and friend connected to the Newtons gathered at my grandparent’s house for my grandad’s famous barbeque.
“Miracle,” the pitch in her voice rose a little bit when she called my name this time.
I knew I better answer her because my aunt was old school and she didn’t mind tapping you on the back of the head if you didn’t respond. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”
“Miracle, you have to eat.” By now she had her hands resting on her hip. I knew if I didn’t eat, I would not get her to leave.
I slowly turned around and gave her an innocent smile. Honestly, I just wanted to take off the dress I was still wearing from the funeral and climb into bed. I put my feelings aside and headed to the kitchen. Aunt Helen had been at the house with me since I arrived Wednesday afternoon. I knew she needed to get home to take care of her family, so I was going to smile and eat.
I sat down at the table reluctantly. My mom and I had shared so many memories in the kitchen, at this very table. Laughing, talking, crying, fussing, and gossiping. We had a relationship that had grown into a friendship the older I got.
“Would you like some sweet tea or lemonade,” she asked as I looked down at my plate.
My plate had all the southern classics on it. Collard greens, macaroni and cheese, rice and gravy, candied yams, dressing and gravy, potato salad, cornbread, ham, baked chicken, turkey wings and a southern favorite chow chow. I didn’t’ dare be rude, but I had not eaten meat in over 12 years. The only thing I felt safe eating was the macaroni and cheese, candied yams and potato salad.
“I can stay the night if you like, and tomorrow I can help you go through Hannah’s things.” She poured me a glass of sweet tea and lemonade.
Aunt Helen was the oldest, and she always was the caretaker of the family. My mom used to call her, “Saint Helen.”
“No mam I’m fine. We can work on it Monday some time.” As I took a bit of the candied yams my thoughts were on one thing. I just wanted to go nestle in mom’s bed and cry myself to sleep.
Aunt Helen was going on about how she was going to open the flower shop on Monday because mom had arrangements that needed to get out. She worked there part-time.
While she was talking, I was focused on the accident. I had always warned my mom about those early morning slash late night trips to Wal-Mart when she couldn’t sleep. She always said, “Honey, that’s the best time to shop. Less people and good deals.” This time the less people and good deals, cost her, her life. On my mom’s way back home, she was hit by a drunk driver coming from $2 Tuesday.
“Well, I’m going to come by tomorrow after church,” Aunt Helen was grabbing her purse off the sofa in the den. She turned around as I was getting up to see her out, “You know I can stay the night if you like.”
“I know.” I hurried up and placed the unfinished plate of food in the fridge to avoid hearing my aunt say, “Miracle Newton it’s people starving in the world. So, why are you wasting food?”
“Ok then. I’ll have Halina bring your breakfast over in the morning on her way to church.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but your mother and I always promised each other if something happened to either one of us we would take care of each other children.”
I smiled as she walked to the door because I knew my mother would do the same. “Aunt Helen thank you again for everything you’ve done for us.”
“No worry honey, that’s what family is for.” Aunt Helen kissed me on the forehead and headed to her car.
Aunt Helen tooted the horn as she pulled out the driveway. I watched until her brake lights were no longer in sight. I walked back in and took a deep breath. I stood in the living room looking around. In the dead silence, I wondered what was next.
I still had so many decisions to make about my mom’s flower shop, the house, and my life. The thought crossed my mind to move back to Commons and work at my mom’s flower shop. That was the plan anyway for when I retired or burned out from my job as an intelligence officer.
What to do? What to do, I asked myself as I stood in the kitchen staring out the window. My grandmother’s lemon pound cake was in my sideview. So, I decided to grab me a huge slice. The cake was just as moist as I remembered. Tasting it took me back to when I was little girl, without a care in the world. Things were much more, simpler then.
My phone started buzzing to notify me of an incoming message. I smiled as I saw a message from my best friend Tori. She had flown down the day before from Seattle to be with me. She was a real friend. One that I really needed by my side.
Hey girl. I made it home safe. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.
I sent a text with two heart emojis. I knew she was probably tired after that long flight, and needed to get some rest. Now it was time for me to get some rest. I turned the lights off in the kitchen and headed down the hall to my mom’s room.
When I reached her bedroom door, I just stood there. I still couldn’t believe that my mom was gone and the person who hit her was out on bail. “Miracle you can do this,” I said before I walked in. I had avoided her room the last few days.
The light from TV was all I needed to scribble down some thoughts in my journal. My mom started me with a journal when I was about 10. I was upset because my dad didn’t show up to my violin recital. “Write your feelings down, instead of lashing out at others,” she said as she gave me the journal and pen. That had been my coping mechanism for the last 25 years, and worked very well.
Later that night I was awakened by someone banging on the front door. I grabbed my phone off the bed, “2 am.” I was confused. And, surly whoever was at the door was confused too because they must didn’t realize what time it was.
I climbed out of bed, slipped my feet into my fuzzy slippers and headed for the front door. “I’m coming.” I was irritated at whoever was at the door wouldn’t stop pounding on it.
The peephole was higher than I was, so I had to stand on my tiptoes to see who was at the door. It was Aunt Hope, my mom’s baby sister. From the sound of her voice, she was “drunk as a skunk”, as my grandad would say.
I opened the door with a bit of hesitation. My aunt was the wild one of the family, no telling what she had gotten herself into. Maybe I should say, who she had gotten herself into. My mom used to say, “If it’s trouble to be found, Hope Naomi Newton will find it.”
“Aunt Hope do you know what time it is?” I was full blown frustrated. She smelled like she had been bathing in vodka.
She pushed passed me, “Yes I know what time it is. Do you know what time it is?” She had the drunken slur speech.
I looked down at my aunt’s feet and noticed she didn’t have on any shoes. It was no telling where she had left them. I looked out the door to see if I could tell how she had gotten here, but I couldn’t. I closed the door and turned my attention to her. She flopped down on the sofa and started looking around the room.
“Everything ok,” I asked as I grabbed a blanket from the top of the hall closet.
“I miss my sister. Why did she have to leave?” Aunt Hope was drunk with grief.
As I pulled the blanket from the closet an envelope fell to the floor. I started to put it back, but the seal on it caught my attention. I laid the envelope on the hall table. I would worry about that in a few minutes, after I took care of my aunt.
Aunt Hope rambled on and on and on for 15 minutes about how life had been unfair to her by taking her sister. Even in her drunken state she was making plenty of sense. Life had thrown an ugly curve by taking my mom from us.
Once my aunt finally dosed off to sleep I grabbed the envelope and headed back to bed. I stared at the envelope for a few minutes. The seal on the envelope was the same seal as the letter of rejection I had received from the FBI years ago. I never wanted to work for them, but they were at a career fair when I finished my master’s degree, so I applied.
Why would my Mom have an envelope from the FBI, I thought as I grabbed the letter opener from her desk drawer to open it.
Inside was a note, with a date and time, along with a $100,000 check. What was even more strange was the date on the note was the same date my mom was killed in the car accident. A thousand thoughts were running through my head. I didn’t know what to think as I curled up in my mom’s bed and dosed off to sleep.
“Miracle you hear that?”
I woke up to my Aunt Hope calling my name and searching my mom’s room.
“Miracle,” she stopped searching, “you hear that.”
I was groggy as I sit up in the bed. I didn’t hear anything. I thought my aunt was still drunk and talking out of her head.
“Miracle you don’t hear that ringing?”.
I sat up and listened. I finally said, “I do.” It was a faint ringing sound. I had no idea how she heard it. I immediately climbed out of bed and started searching the room. I was looking in the drawers, the baskets on the shelves and the nightstands. I still couldn’t find where it was coming from.
“It sounds like a cell phone ringing,” Aunt Hope said as she laid across my mom’s bed.
After what seemed like forever, I found the cell phone in a hidden compartment underneath her desk. My mind was racing because in the last few hours I had discovered an envelope from the FBI and a hidden cell phone. There was no security on the phone, so I could access it.
“Miracle, did you find where that noise was coming from?”
“Yes mam.,” I could hear her babbling behind me. “Aunt Hope lay down and get some sleep. I’ll go to my bedroom.” I needed to be alone. I had no idea what I was going to find.
I closed my bedroom door and laid across my bed staring at the phone. I finally mustered up enough strength to check the call log. The only number in the call log was a private number, so I had no way to call it back. The private number had called my mom 27 times the night she died. As I was looking through the phone, a text came in from an anonymous number. Did you drop the package off at the rendezvous spot?
I was more confused than ever. Who was texting my mom? What was she supposed to drop off at the rendezvous location? My first thought was to text back, but I decided to wait. I laid there with the phone next to my pillow before drifting off to sleep.
The sound of the doorbell awakened me. I could hear Aunt Hope moving around in my mom’s room. I grabbed my robe and headed to the front door. I could see an image through the window. I opened the door to see Halina.
“Good morning.” Halina was holding two plates of food. “Mom sent your breakfast over. She said to let you know she’ll be by after church.”
“Thank you. Your mom is too, much.”
“Who’s that at the door?” Aunt Hope yelled from down the hall.
“I see that Aunt Hope made her way over here last night.”
I looked back to see her standing in the hall, “She did.”
I thanked Halina for the breakfast and handed it to Aunt Hope. I wasn’t too concerned about breakfast. I decided it was time I respond to the text. Who is this?
I knew that may or may not get the person’s attention, but it was worth a try. Instead of receiving a text back, the person on the other end called. The phone rang about three times before I decided to answer.
“Hello,” my voice was shaky.
The person on the other end hesitated at first, “Hannah.” The voice was soft and not one I recognized.
“No, this is her daughter Miracle.”
“I’m sorry I have the wrong number.”
I couldn’t let whoever was on the other end get off the phone, “No, wait!” I knew if the person hung up, I would never get the answers to the burning questions I had.
“Yes,” the voice on the other end said.
“My mother was killed in a car accident a few days ago. I was wondering,” before I could finish the person started speaking.
“Did you say killed? When?”
One thing was certain the person on the other end had no idea that my mother was dead.
“Yes, early Wednesday morning. How did you know my mother?” In my mind, my mother may have been having a secret love affair she didn’t want anyone to know about.
“I have to go.”
“No wait please tell me what’s going on?”
The voice on the other end waited, and then gave me some instructions. I was a little confused, but the voice on the other end promised to tell me everything I wanted to know. It felt a little like making a deal with the devil, but to get answers I knew that I had to comply.
