Four Seasons…December

The scent of at least a hundred open lilies was giving Dean a headache, though it could also have been the lack of coffee… or nicotine. He thumbed the knot on his tie and smoothed the black silk, then fastened the bottom button of his blazer. “Would anyone else like to speak?” The minister looked around the crowded room. Dean stood and approached the podium.

Dean swallowed his smile, thinking about how much Saul would’ve hated the morning’s procession of memory and long, drawn out eulogy. Sure he would have liked the sentiment, free flowing liquor and dolled up ladies at the after party, but he would have preferred skipping the main event entirely. Still, Dean needed to speak. Even though everyone else had said their piece, he had been silent and the room was holding its breath.

Dean looked out at the sea of black suits with missing smiles and wanted to scream. There was no reason to feel somber. Saul finally got what he wanted. Today was a day of celebration; a time to bid farewell to the old man and memorialize what it was that made him so…unforgettable.

Dean cleared his throat.

“Whenever I’m watching an old movie, usually in black and white and often with plenty of dirt and scratches on the reel, I always think of Saul, a man who rose each day with the sun, gave every one his best, and did his damnedest to make sure I turned into the best man I could be. I am lucky to have had a man like Solomon in my life, unlike so many other fatherless boys. Saul was a product of the old days, when clothes were sharper, adolescence shorter, and the word man still deserving of the first spot in the word manners.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and looked over the pews, from the first row to the last. He noticed Saul’s three granddaughters sitting together, a daisy chain of fingers splayed across their laps; Brian’s arms were wrapped around Maya, their daughter asleep between them. Saul’s son in law sat next to his sister in the final row, his bloodshot eyes, clean shave and pressed suit making Dean think of a fresh coat of paint on a house with bad plumbing.

He continued. “It seems that these days there’s something missing from many men, and I don’t just mean their buttons and blazers. Those guys in the old black and whites had manners, at least for the most part. Even the bad guys never went outside without a hat, and it seems like no one ever forgot their pleases and thanks. Maybe it was only while the cameras rolled, maybe not, but I know Saul would’ve fit in just fine. He spent every day for more than a decade teaching me what it meant to be a man, at least the way he saw it. He not only taught me how to shave, fix an engine and throw a football, he also taught me to never walk off from what I know is right, and though it may be difficult to stand tall against my enemies, he said that it would always be harder to stand against my friends. Saul taught me to do both, always and without fail.”

Dean looked at Paige, smiled and went on. “Saul said that a man who goes along with what he knows is wrong, whether it is to belong, or simply because it is the easy thing to do, will see less than he should when looking in the mirror. As with most everything else in my life, Saul was absolutely right.”

Dean descended the three stairs which separated podium from pews. “For me, Saul’s word was Gospel. Days didn’t pass without him teaching me a lesson…or ten, even when he wasn’t trying. In between all those large lessons learned were the small examples set. Things which went unspoken, but rarely unnoticed, even if it took me months or years to see them clearly. I now know how to admit when I am wrong, but only because my friend Solomon never had the need to be right.”

Dean paused. Some members of the audience may have thought he was searching for his next words. Those who knew him well knew he held the right words like bills in a fold and was deciding how to spend them. “My father left when I was five. I’ll never know if it was because he didn’t care or couldn’t bear to, but Saul managed to make it matter a whole lot less. Maybe it’s because he too was dealing with loss, or maybe it’s just the way he was wired, but I always knew the old man had my back.”

Dean locked eyes with Olivia, tears turning her eyes to inky smears. “Saul, above all, recognized his duty to me, asked for or not, and never took it lightly. He understood that his word was my model and that it must never be broken. Saul never made me a promise he could not keep and chose every word as carefully as he did his commitments.”

My childhood was not easy, but Saul made it easier. I could never call the old man compassionate or kind…at least not to his face,” Dean allowed the room to settle into an expected laugh, “but now that I’m older I realize that’s exactly what he was. Those times when he was the hardest on me, were the times I needed it the most.”

Dean didn’t bother to wipe the sudden salt on his cheek.

“I let too many years fall carelessly from the calendar, allowing life to pass me by like reckless wind, but I am forever grateful for these last few months I’ve shared with Saul to speak of life, love and loss. I am only me because of the him that he never failed to be.”

Dean walked to the edge of the coffin and placed his lips on the closed lid, a palm on either side. “Thank you.”

Lemmin started to cry. Several women followed. The baby joined the chorus.

_______

“Graves are the footprints of angels.”

Paige smiled before Dean could finish the sentence. “Libby, right?”

“Well, she claimed it was hers, but I never took the time to look it up until yesterday.” Dean pulled the Marlboros from his jacket pocket and nodded his head toward the door. “Turns out she stole it from Longfellow.”

Dean had the cigarette dangling from his bottom lip before he stepped into the open air. Dean held the pack out for Paige. She drew a Marlboro out and put it in her mouth. Dean lit it.

“Figures,” Paige said. “One time I caught her trying to ape a quote from Oscar Wilde. Swore up, down and around the block that it was hers. Wouldn’t back down for anything, didn’t matter that Wilde died some seventy-five odd years before she was ever born.”

Dean laughed through a cloud of smoke. “Which quote was it?”

“If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you.”

“Ha,” Dean barked, choking unexpectedly on his laugh, “that’s because it sounds just like her.”

Silence. Then, both cigarettes nearly to filter, “So how you doing?”

“Fine.” Dean smashed what was left of his butt in the ashtray. “Isn’t like no one saw it coming, or like I wasn’t thousands of miles away until the very end.”

“Still,” Paige met his eyes and dared him not to turn away. “It’s different when the end is finally here. I loved what you said in there.”

“Thanks.”

“How long did it take you?”

“To write or to memorize?”

“Both.”

“Not long. I mostly made it up.”

“Not possible.” Just give me the truth, Paige said with a wink.

“Scout’s honor.” Dean held up two fingers and laughed. “I’ve never been a Scout, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying. Of course I had some of the best lines already in my head, but don’t forget, I’m used to speaking in rooms crowded with people in uncomfortable clothing, and often the audiences are far less forgiving. I always wing it, works out better that way. All I need is a few key phrases. A life well lived helps me fill in the rest.”

Paige looked dubious. Dean said, “You follow every recipe, or do you spread the ingredients on the counter and let your years of cooking move your hands?”

Paige laughed; a perfect little chirp which sounded to Dean like the only genuine note of joy he’d heard all day. “So what’s next?” Paige said.

“I have no idea.”

_______

The funeral’s aftermath left Lemmin with an empty tank. The death of Sheryl’s father was certainly no surprise, but it was as though the third funeral in less than a year was finally enough to gut him in full. The usual deja vu returned and Lemmin felt the world around him start to shimmer. He sat.

“How you doing?” His sister offered him a glass of punch and sat down next to him, even though the room had mostly emptied into the reception area next door.

“I’ve been better.” He put his big arm around Annabelle’s small frame and squeezed. “Thanks for coming, though.”

“Nothing to it. Paul’s watching the store, not that he needed to. No one ever buys books on the seventh day for some reason. Last Sunday we sold three.” Annabelle laughed. “Okay two, I gave a copy of The Inevitable away.”

“Jesus, Anna,” Lemmin shook his head. “I don’t know how you keep that place open.”

“Rent’s dirt cheap, the house is paid for, and Paul and I both love soup.”

“Still, with all you could’ve done, I’ll never figure out why you stayed there.”

“If you can’t figure it out after all this time, I’m sure as shit not gonna enlighten you today.”

“You shouldn’t swear at a funeral.”

“Ah, that old buzzard would’ve approved and you know it.”

“So go ahead. Enlighten me. Why the bookstore?”

“You know Carl, I’d say most natives in this big giant jungle of a world live and die without knowing what sort of difference they make, if any. I’m not claiming to be enlightened, but at least I have a clue.”

His sister was making him tired, just like usual. She talked too much and far too quickly, and loved getting him to explain himself. “I know that being a cop means making a difference. I save lives, stop the bad guys from hurting the good guys and help the innocent to sleep soundly. No disrespect big sis, but unless I’m missing something, you sell books, right?”

Anna smiled, the same self-satisfied grin that had been driving Lemmin nuts for forty, maybe fifty years. “You’re usually missing something, Carl. Sometimes it’s a twig and sometimes it’s a branch, but you could almost always benefit from taking a closer look.” Anna stopped talking and started tightening her bun of pure platinum hair. One of the things that infuriated Lemmin about his sister most was that she seemed to revel in delivering half completed thoughts and then drawing out the silence.

“The hell, Anna, do you really need to insult me at my father in law’s funeral?”

“I’m not insulting you, Carl, nor am I insulting your career of choice. If we turn back a page or two, I believe you’d see it was the other way around. You’ve embarked on a fine profession, no argument from me. But we part ways if you believe that you make any more of a difference than I do.”

Lemmin looked at Anna, the usual annoyed wrinkle curling his brow. He had no clue how he always managed to walk into the exact same trap of feeling both frustrated and interested in what his sister would say next. No matter how she led or how much he tried to redirect, the result was always the same. “So, how’s that?” he said.

“You’ve always made the mistake of assuming it’s the books that really matter. But believe me Carlito,” she slapped her hand on his knee, “they’re just the Trojan horse. The battle’s won because of what’s hidden deep inside the rolling beast.”

Lemmin felt tired. Annabelle continued.

“Because Providence has been so kind as to set me here with an example, I’m happy to elaborate.” Anna pointed to the beautiful woman with a pear half way to her lips sitting beside a man with delicate features and a closely cropped haircut. “Take her for example.”

“You mean Lisa?”

“I do.”

“What about her?”

“In the last four seasons she has gone from mildly happy though mostly alone, to constantly merry and in league with a soul mate. I ask you, Carl, is this an accident?”

“I don’t wanna talk about fate, Sis. Thanks, but no. You start talking about fate and I’m gonna wonder why fate decided to take Sheryl, and then…” Lemmin closed his mouth and sank in his seat.

Annabelle inched closer. “Fate is a cruel master. He sometimes takes more than he gives and rarely cares half as much as he should. That’s why people like me do as we do.” Annabelle waved her hand at John.

“John there, is a terrific gentleman. Maybe a bit too quiet for his own good and perhaps more blueprint than bouquet if you know what I mean, but a good, maybe even an old soul. How would you like to guess where they met?”

Lemmin didn’t feel like playing.

“Awww, come on,” Annabelle said, “I’ll make it a Daily Double.”

“A Likely Story.”

“That’s right,” Annabelle was glowing. “That young couple right there met in my bookstore. The next logical question would then be, was it by accident?”

“They met in your place,” Lemmin conceded, “but big deal. They could’ve just as easily met at that crappy restaurant next door.”

“But they didn’t. That day, as well as on many others, I was there to give Father Fate a helping hand.” Annabelle waited a moment for her brother to dig for more. He didn’t. She continued anyway. “There was nothing pre-mediated about it, exactly, but the second I saw them both in the shop, I knew I had a part to play.” Anna gestured toward Lisa’s swollen belly and gave Lemmin what he thought might have been the most self-satisfied smile he’d ever seen on his sister’s face. “You may help to save lives, baby brother, but every so often I get to help make ‘em.”

Lemmin stood. “You’ve always been pleased with yourself, sis.”

“The whole world orbits on ego, vanity and self-satisfaction, Carl. It’s nonsense to pretend otherwise. The best that we can do is our best, and that’s what it’s time for you to do. Simply living isn’t enough. I couldn’t be sorrier for all life’s seen fit to snatch from you this year, but really, tomorrow’s up to you. Take out life’s cause and you lose its effect.”

“You’re right,” was all Carl could say. He bent to the bench, kissed his sister on the cheek and stepped out of the church and into the crisp December air. The sun pushed it’s way through the clouds and warmed his shoulders.

_______

“I just wanted to say thanks,” Laney said.

“For what?” Lisa rubbed her belly, her head tilted against the wall.

“That book you told me I had to read. Everything you said was right. It really helped. I’ve never been happier.”

“I can tell,” Lisa laughed. “I’ve never seen you so… I don’t know…is giddy the right word?”

“Could be. Daniel told me I looked ‘tickled pink with blush colored feathers,’ whatever that means.”

“How long is he home?”

“Not long. He didn’t even fly in for Thanksgiving, but didn’t want to miss the funeral. Saul taught him how to throw a punch. It helped with him being in marching band.”

“So what’s going on with you and Jake?” Lisa changed the subject, “is it weird dating someone with a kid?”

Laney laughed. “It’s weird dating, period! I don’t know, really. I think we’re both happy, but too scared to make any plans, you know? All I know is that I might finally know what it’s like to feel like myself.”

“How about your mom and dad?”

“It’s been great. We had breakfast with them this morning on the way in. It went well, just like every other meal we’ve shared. I love Reggie, he’s a great kid and I’m really comfortable with him.”

“Are you still mad about the medicine?”

“Well, I’m not thrilled, but I understand that it’s helping and don’t want to ruin a good thing. I’m getting used to it and the doctor said it probably won’t be forever.”

“AHHH!” a sudden shriek from Lisa. “John!”

John was by Lisa’s side a second later. He took one look at the puddle of water pooled at Lisa’s ankle, took the phone from his pocket and dialed 911.

“911 – what is your emergency?”

Laney could hear the operator’s voice as though from a far off hallway. “You okay, sweetie?” she said.

Lisa’s eyes were closed, but she nodded.

“I’m going to need an ambulance,” John’s voice was slightly nervous, though mostly excited. “My wife and I are having a baby. Her water just broke.”

“I’m sending someone now.”

A crowd gathered around the couple. Brian and Maya stood, linked with a tiny hand between theirs, as the cool chill of warm memory washed their back.

Sirens rang in the distance.

_______

Mrs. Stamp never minded funerals, though she understood why they made most people so uncomfortable. Who knew what lay on the other side of death’s door?

But the way Anna saw it, most of life felt like such a struggle that surely whatever lay at the other side of forever had to be something better. All those stories – the untold millions of words she’d inhaled throughout her lifetime – Anna believed that when a person died, they went to the place where all those thoughts came from in the first place.

It was a good thought; everything was connected, all of it looping and winding in an beautiful circle. The day had poured life into death and death into life, like flowing water from a fountain.

Fearing the other side of death was only for those, she mused, who never knew what it meant to truly live.

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