Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(107)

“I’m glad to hear it.” Margaret didn’t spare any pity for Danny Chesterfield. “Could you give him something for me, then?”

“Lady, listen, I’m sure you mean well but—”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t mean him well. I couldn’t be happier that he’s behind bars. I also know I can’t allow my feelings toward this man to eat away at me any longer.” She pulled a package from her large purse and literally shoved it at the corrections officer.

“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously.

“It’s a prayer shawl,” Margaret explained. “I knit it myself. Give it to him and tell him…tell him,” Margaret said in a choked voice, “tell Mr. Chesterfield I’m trying very hard to forgive him for what he did to my daughter. I’m praying for him and I’m praying for me because it isn’t easy, you know?”

So that was it. This was why Margaret had wanted to see Danny Chesterfield. To give him the prayer shawl. I blinked back tears, moved by how far my sister had come. Difficult as it was for her, she’d taken Julia’s words to heart.

I put my arm around her.

The correction officer’s attitude changed instantly. “You don’t know, do you?”

Margaret wiped her eyes as if it were a crime to reveal emotion. She shook her head mutely.

“Danny Chesterfield was in a car accident,” he told us.

“That was reported in the paper,” I answered for Margaret.

“What wasn’t reported is that he’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

Margaret froze and stared up at the officer.

“He suffered a spinal cord injury. He’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

We left King County Jail soon afterward. Margaret seemed deep in thought as we walked to the parking lot and her car.

“I wouldn’t have wished that on him,” she said quietly.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” I told her.

Until recently I would not have believed that. Now I did.

CHAPTER 39

Alix Townsend Turner

Grandma Turner’s funeral was truly a beautiful event, Alix thought. She hadn’t known what to expect. Like so much else in life, she’d never experienced a real funeral. Even when her only brother died of an overdose, there’d been no one but her to mourn his passing. No one to pay for his burial, either, so it had fallen to the government. Her brother had been cremated and his ashes placed in a common grave without a marker. All Alix ever knew was the name of the cemetery where Tom’s ashes were kept.

Alix had assumed that at Sarah Turner’s funeral there’d be lots of sadness and tears. While that was true, and almost everyone wept, the mood was joyful, more like a celebration of a life well-lived, a woman well-loved.

Long before she died, Grandma Turner had made all her own burial arrangements, so the decisions hadn’t been left to her children. She’d given specific instructions on which songs to sing and what Scripture verses to read. The only thing she hadn’t indicated was which clothes she wanted to be buried in and that was decided by her two daughters-in-law.

Alix and Jordan had arrived back from Canada in time for the viewing, the night before the services. This was an unfamiliar ritual for Alix. In her heart she knew Jordan’s grandmother had been ready to die, ready for her heavenly reward. What she hadn’t expected was the rush of emotion as she approached the casket, hand in hand with her husband. Large floral arrangements surrounded it and when Alix looked down on this woman she’d come to love, she’d had to blink back sudden tears. Jordan’s family had chosen to bury their mother in a lovely blue dress. They’d tucked Alix’s prayer shawl around her shoulders.

Alix was moved by that.

Susan Turner came to stand next to her.

“Thank you,” Alix whispered, barely able to speak.

Jordan’s mother knew immediately why Alix was thanking her. “Sarah loved that shawl,” her mother-in-law said in a low voice, “but more importantly she loved you. Just as I do.”

At the gathering in the fellowship hall after the funeral, Alix took care of the serving and cleaning up, thus allowing family members to visit with their guests.

Susan found her in the church kitchen, washing dishes. “Thank you for all your help, Alix,” she said.

Alix finished rinsing the last of the dishes and released the drain at the bottom of the sink. “I was happy to do what I could.”

Susan sighed, leaning against the counter. “Mom always knew.”

Alix turned and cast a quizzical glance at her mother-in-law as she dried her hands. “Knew what?”

“Mom knew you’d be good for Jordan. I was the one with doubts, the one who questioned…. Well, you know that, but Alix, I was wrong.”

“Susan, please, it’s okay.” She wished Jordan’s mother would forget all that. Alix had.

“I know you’ve forgiven me, which also amazes me about you.” Susan seemed in awe of her, and that only embarrassed Alix further.

“Listen,” she said, “I’m no saint.”

“Yes, but…”

“What you need to remember,” Alix told her, “is that I realized if I was going to have a successful marriage, you and I had to come to a meeting of the minds. I didn’t want to put my husband in the middle and demand that he choose sides. Besides, I don’t have a mother of my own.” Alix hesitated. “Well, I do have a biological mother—I’m sure you remember her—but she’s no one I’d ever want as a role model.”