Revelation

As we enter the grand metropolis of Friona, I direct Ben down a farm to market road, south from the middle of town to the Smith ranch. The house is a large red-brick, ranch-style surrounded by flat, barren pasture—a world far different than mine. Ben pulls up behind cars and pickup trucks haphazardly parked.

“Let’s go do this.” I’m ready for battle. He retrieves my bag of gifts from the trunk and follows me up the walk.

We’re greeted by loud talk and laughter and the smell of smoked turkey and apple pie. I deposit the bag of presents next to the tree, then, wade into the gathering.

Stacy gives me a big hug. When was the last time I saw her? They never come see me anymore. Waiting for me to die, I guess.

“Ben, thank you for bringing my sister.” Stacy hugs him. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Maybe you can introduce me to folks? Diane wants to let her mother know she’s here.”

I watch them head off. The first person they stop for is Uncle Fritz, who’s leaning against a wall, sipping coffee. He’s aged so much. He’s about the only one in the family I still care about. He’s always been so kind—even after losing Brad.

Mom can wait. I stop and watch. Fritz puts his coffee down and embraces Stacy. She points at Ben, then Fritz puts out his hand, and they shake. I hustle toward them.

“She’s a lot like her father,” Fritz is saying. “A beautiful spirit.”

“She is that” Ben says.

I put my hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I see you’ve met my uncle.” I throw my arms around Fritz’s neck. “Uncle Fritz, I’m so glad you made it.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Please forgive me for not coming to Amarillo to see you. You look great.” I can almost hear, “for a cancer victim.”

“I am great. Let’s go see Mom.” I glance at Ben, cock my head, then put my hand around Fritz’s arm and head to the kitchen, which is full of people talking and working.

Tye Smith greets us. He’s a caricature of a Panhandle rancher—deep lines and wrinkles across his forehead, around his mouth, down his neck, weather-beaten and brown as leather, thick salt-and-pepper hair and a handlebar mustache, wearing a green plaid, pearl-buttoned dress shirt, jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots.

I suppress my aversion and peck him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Tye. It’s nice of you to have us.”

Ben puts out his hand. “Mr. Smith, it’s good to see you again. Ben Holmes. We met at the hospital.”

“Of course. That was a hard day. Please call me Tye. My Carole appreciates how you look after her daughter.”

“Diane’s the one who does the looking after.”

“I bet that’s right. Say, she’s looking good. How’s she been?” He asks like I’m not standing right here.

Ben looks at me—embarrassed—then smiles at Tye. “She’s just fine. Sometimes, she has bad days. But that’s the medicines more than the cancer.”

I nod, my mouth hanging open, wondering, am I invisible?

“I hope you’re right,” Tye continues, still ignoring me. “Of course, that lady doctor said most people don’t make it eighteen months with this.”

A punch in the gut. That’s what they’ve reduced me to. I’ll be gone any day, so what’s the use? I grip Ben’s arm, and stiffen my legs—otherwise, I think I might collapse in a pile, right here in my mother’s kitchen.

Ben stiffens too, and gasps. “Well, Diane sure isn’t most people.”

“I reckon not.” Tye huffs, then excuses himself.

I have to smile as I shake my head, my eyes meeting Ben’s. He understands. I herd him toward Mom.

“Ben,” Mom says, “Merry Christmas. You were so sweet to bring my baby girl.”

I’m right here, Mom.

As if hearing my thoughts, Mom turns to me and opens her arms. “Diane, baby,” she says, wrapping her arms around me—too much Elizabeth Arden almost choking me.

I pat her back. “Merry Christmas, Mom.” I try to sound cheery.

“Mrs. Smith, I was happy to bring her.” Ben rescues me from her aromatic embrace. “Thank you for letting me join your family.”

“I like having lots of people,” Mom says.

“Mom, what can I do?” All I can think of is to try and be useful.

“Baby, I just want you to enjoy the day. Tye and I have this all figured out. You keep Ben company, and you two join us at the big table.”

“Ok. Come on, Mister.” I take Ben’s hand, happy to leave Mom staring after us.

Back in the living room, the first person I see is my cousin, Merit. He’s gone grey and has a beer belly, but I’d recognize him anywhere—his face is the closest to Brad’s still alive on Earth, but I haven’t seen it in years. I heard he moved to El Paso—works in insurance or something. But he hasn’t ever been here for the holidays. Too many painful memories? Maybe.

I think the last time I saw him was at Daddy’s funeral, a dozen years ago. And we didn’t talk much even then. It’s like when we see each other, it’s that day again—when Brad went under the water, and his soul never came up.

Merit sees me and rushes my way. I let go of Ben as he approaches. Merit bear hugs me, and I cling to him—so much emotion swirls between us.

“Oh, Diane,” his voice cracks. He looks me in the eyes, and a smile breaks across his face. “Well, Hell”—his full voice returns—“You ain’t dyin’, are ya?”

I swallow. I see Brad—hear him. And there’s that Makepeace humor and clarity—Fritz has it, Daddy had it, Brad had it, even at fourteen—that breaks through all the bullshit flying around a room.

“I sure as Hell am not,” I agree, beaming.

“Why didn’t you call me about this?” Merit asks, sounding hurt.

Why not? Guilt. Guilt, pure and simple.

I cover my eyes, feeling dampness on my fingertips.

Merit strokes my hair. “Whatcha crying about, cousin?”

The words tumble out through my strained, aching voice. “I lost him, Merit.” I grasp his shoulders. “Brad died because I was too weak to hold on. It was all my fault.” I collapse against him. I see Ben out of the corner of my eye, looking stunned, like he’s witnessed a fatal accident.

Merit gently pushes my arms and steps back. “What the Hell are you talking about? Nothing was your fault. Y’all both went in. I thought we lost both of you. But Greg . . . God bless that son of a bitch, he pulled you out.”

What? I close my eyes and see darkness. Darkness—and water! A scene that’s invaded my dreams dozens of times. I’ve woken from that dream feeling that was supposed to be my punishment.

I feel myself falling, falling in darkness . . .

I open my eyes. Ben and Merit are holding me, staring with concern. My face glows hot, my hands fidget, I look around. But no one’s paying attention—I must’ve only fainted for a moment.

“Are you ok, Baby?” Ben asks.

I swallow, take a deep breath, and free myself from their kind arms. “Yeah, I’m ok.” Am I? What just happened? What did Merit say?

I was always hard on Merit. I guess he was just so much more serious than Brad, which my silly younger self translated to sinister. But I see nothing sinister, only kindness in him now—he’s just like Brad and his dad.

I search Merit’s face. “What did you say? I went under the water?”

“Yes, Diane. You almost died. Didn’t you know that? Have you been blaming yourself for Brad all these years?”

I’m shaking. “I need to sit down.” Merit takes my hand and leads me to Mom’s sitting room in the back of the house. There’s no one else around now. It’s just Merit, Ben, and me. I sit in my mother’s chair, facing out the window—a few cattle are chomping on hay in the distance. I sigh and close my eyes, leaving the men to just stand there, looking down on me, I’m sure wondering, what the hell is wrong with her?

I think back to that day, almost three decades ago. All the pieces fit together now. There was always this moment, right after I remember holding onto Brad’s arm for dear life—a moment of darkness. In all the years since, my mind never let me understand what that moment was. The next thing I remembered was Greg and Merit retrieving Brad where he had washed up, then laying his dead body against my feet in the raft.

I look up at Merit. “Is that really what happened?” I ask, just above a whisper.

“Yes. It all happened so fast. The water was so powerful. When the boat dove into the rapid, y’all both went overboard. Greg acted as fast as he could. He reached in and got ahold of you . . . but Brad . . . you know, he was gone.”

I shudder.

This is the cancer.

But not a one of us who was there that day and lived ever talked about it. Not me, not Merit, not Fritz. Greg left on the wind, and I never heard another word from him either—or about him. Not until today.

I clear my throat. “Do you keep up with Greg?”

“Oh, shit. I haven’t seen him at all. Not since Brad’s funeral. I heard even he couldn’t stay in New Mexico. Went off to California.”

“He was a real asshole . . . before. But I remember how sweet he spoke to me when we had to paddle back down the river. He became a different person—of course, I didn’t know he’d saved my life.”

“Yeah. He could be a real asshole, sometimes. But that guy you saw, when we were bringing Brad back. That was my friend. Greg was always trying to be tough, but he wasn’t a bad guy.”

“How have l lived so long with everything so screwed up in my head?”

“We all do, cousin. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

I look at Ben. So much love in those eyes. “I’m sorry, Ben. Welcome to my family.”

He kneels and strokes my face—he doesn’t need to speak.

***

When Mom calls everyone to dinner, we sit across from her, with Tye on the end between us. Stacy and Uncle Fritz also join our table.

“I want us all to eat,” Mom says, “But first we should remember why we’re gathered. Tye, would you say the prayer?”

“Yes, dear. Please bow your heads,” Tye prays in his deacon voice. “Dear God, we are gathered today to celebrate your son, Jesus Christ, who died for our sins. We know, without your mercy, we would not be worthy. Thank you for the food you’ve given us this day, and we pray for you to help us with our afflictions. Help us to be good and worthy of your healing power. In Jesus’s name we pray, Amen.”

Be worthy of Jesus’s healing power? Seriously? I can’t bring myself to say amen. Forks clank as everyone else starts eating.

“I have an affliction,” I say, loud enough to be heard above the din, looking at Tye. “I don’t think if I’m just good enough, God’s going to heal me though. Humans have the capacity to study and discover medical treatments. For what doctors can’t provide, we all have the divine within us—an enormous power to heal ourselves. So, that’s my plan.”

“Baby, it can’t hurt to ask for God’s help too.” Mom’s trying to avoid the argument.

“Well, Mom, if I have to be good to be worthy of God’s help, what about Daddy? What about Brad? Were they not good? I refuse to believe there’s a God who chooses who lives and dies.”

“God didn’t take Brad, and He didn’t take Mike—it was just the cancer.” Uncle Fritz gently takes my side.

“Your Daddy became a good man,” Mom says, in that pretentious Baptist voice I can’t stand. “But when I met him, he was mixed up with some bad folk. I like to think my prayers helped, not just my scolding.”

What the hell? I look around the table to see who else knows Mike Makepeace’s past.

“Carole,” Fritz says. “You were good to Mike back then. He was a little lost. But give yourself credit—it wasn’t Jesus who saved him. When he got the cancer, Jesus didn’t save him then, either.”

“Well,” Mom declares, indignantly.

“The turkey’s delicious, Tye,” Stacy interrupts cheerily, “I want to know your secret.”

“Smoke it slow and long.” Even Tye’s relieved by the change in subject.

Stacy turns from Tye to me. “How are you feeling? Still getting tired?”

“I’ve been good this week. I even stayed up late last night. Ben took me to his mother’s. We had such a good time. Latest I’ve been out in a year.”

“Diane was the life of the party,” Ben adds.

“She’s always been that” Mom declares, “She was hell on wheels growing up. I gave up trying to control her.”

“Oh, Mom, you still haven’t given up.”

“I swear you were born hell bent on being different, Diane.”

“I never minded being the black sheep of the family.”

“Oh, baby, I didn’t mean that.” She sounds hurt. “You were just different, that’s all.”

“I think you’re more of a black swan,” Ben says, touching my hand.

I finally manage to smile. “Oh, you’ve just got stars in your eyes.”

“Maybe. But you’re in those stars.”

I puts my arm around him and look at my family. “The Universe brought me a sweet man.”

“We’re all grateful to you, Ben,” Mom says.

“I’m the one who’s grateful. Your daughter saved my life,” Ben says.

“My sister’s always had healing powers,” Stacy says.

“She got that from her daddy,” Fritz chimes in.

Did I? “Uncle Fritz, it’s funny you should say that. I always feel his presence when I’m working on a client. I think people have a spirit that doesn’t die but lives on in others.”

“I hope Mike’s spirit is with God,” Mom interjects.

Good Lord. “Mom, maybe God really is within us.”

“Ok, baby, but I want you to be with God too.”

“Well, don’t rush things. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Anyway, the god I believe in is with me every day. And she says I can have dessert.”

Mom finally smiles. “I made your favorite. Cherry pie.” She gets up and brings a cherry pie back to the table.

Thank God for cherry pie.

Just as we’ve survived the whole God thing, while I’m enjoying my first bite of pie, Mom brings up a new topic. “Baby, you know we have room for you here. I worry about you living alone now and not being able to drive.”

Can’t we just enjoy Christmas? “I’m going to drive again, Mom! Real soon. I had a small seizure when I was in Dallas, but that was four months ago. Two more months and I’m going to drive. I have a life in Amarillo. I know you mean well, but I couldn’t . . . It’s not you. I just need to be on my own. This thing in my brain isn’t keeping me from living.”

“Of course not, baby. But my offer stands when . . . if things change.”

I’m exhausted already. I help take dishes to the kitchen without talking. Then, I pull Ben into the living room. “I’m already tired. I want to go,” I tell him. “Let’s go tell Mom goodbye.”

We go into the kitchen, where Mom is at the sink rinsing dishes. I take a deep breath and put an arm around her shoulder. “Mom, I think so much food last night and today has caught up with me. We’re going to go. We left some presents by the tree.”

“Oh, baby. I hope I didn’t upset you.”

I just can’t address that remark now. “I’m just a little tired. That’s all.”

Mom looks at me, trying hard to appear kind. “Y’all come see me when I don’t have such a house full.”

“I’ll bring Diane any time she wants,” Ben says.

“You’re a good man.” She hugs him goodbye,

When we’re back on the road to Amarillo, Ben says, “I never knew you blamed yourself for your cousin’s drowning. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not something I tell people.”

“You didn’t remember going under?”

“I still don’t. But I always remembered the darkness—I just didn’t know what it was.”

“This Greg who saved your life, was he really an asshole?”

“His behavior, how he looked at me, his inappropriate comments. It seemed terrible at the time. Having lived awhile”—I rest my hand on his arm— “We all can do some terrible things. Behind it, there’s always, always pain. I’ve made a living off that.”

“It sounded like you’d like to find Greg, to thank him.”

“Maybe.” I sigh and look out the window. “But I wish it had been Brad, if Greg had to choose. If I’d known he chose me, maybe I’d have lived my life differently—better.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t brought me. I guess I wasn’t the nicest daughter today, either.”

“What? You were fine. I don’t quite understand. Surely your mother knows by now you don’t believe what she believes.”

“She’s sincerely worried I’m going to Hell, but I just couldn’t take it today.”

“You stood up for yourself.”

“I suppose.” Let’s change the subject. I lean in and whisper, “I want you. Now.”