Chapter 24 #2
“I wanted you to stay because I didn’t want to be in this house alone. I’m afraid if I’m alone, I will drink. Honestly, I
could use one right now.”
Nell said with empathy, “I get that.”
Moira thought of the outdoor bar on the covered porch only a hundred or so yards behind her, a whitewashed brick structure
with a black hanging sconce that made the bottles of liquor on the marble top sparkle enticingly.
“Oglethorpe hosts Celebrate Recovery meetings every Sunday night. I’ve shared my testimony with the group several times, and
there is such a sweet and encouraging spirit in those meetings. If you’d like to join me, I would be happy to go with you,”
Nell offered.
Moira sipped from the hot ceramic mug and said, “I’ll think about it.”
“What better time to start than on your birthday?” Nell smiled.
Moira hesitated. “Maybe next Sunday. Tonight I just want to eat cake and watch home movies with the cats. Bradford and Brent
might call.”
“You just told me that you don’t want to be alone. You won’t be if—” Nell stopped when she realized Moira’s excuses were driven
by her fear of taking the first real step toward change. Refraining from pushing further, Nell said, “Okay, just let me know
when you’re ready.”
“I want to apologize to you again, Nell, for being so angry and prideful,” Moira began, but Nell interrupted her by holding
up her hand.
“Forgiven and forgotten. Quit picking up what you’ve already laid down. Amen?”
Moira bobbed her head in agreement, thankful for Nell’s grace. They sat quietly while the leaves rustled and egrets squawked
in the distance.
“Jeffrey and I spent a lot of time here.” Moira leaned her blonde head against the tall wooden slats of the chair. “I hauled
these other chairs down here from the patio for us all to sit in after our walk on Saturday morning,” She referred to the
matching Adirondacks on either side of her and Nell. “But I was upstairs drinking headache powder and using eye drops instead.”
Nell remained quiet and watched a swarm of flies hovering over the cordgrass.
“That was my plan, anyway. Jeffrey and I made a lot of plans right here in these chairs. I remember my mother saying, whenever
her intentions fell through, that we may make our plans but God has the last word. I guess I didn’t realize the truth in that
until Jeffrey died.”
“His will is best,” Nell added. “Even when it’s hard, when we don’t understand it. His plan is good, simply because he is
good. I know it. I believe it. And still, I sometimes forget it.”
“I’m still trying to find the good in my husband’s death,” Moira confessed before looking to her friend in desperation. “I
don’t know if I can.”
Nell sat in silence with her grieving friend before Moira muttered, “I miss my boys, Nell.”
Nell turned slightly in her chair and looked at Moira.
“You mentioned a moment ago our mothers’ unconditional love.
I worry that I have embarrassed my sons, and I don’t know if they love me unconditionally anymore.
I haven’t spoken to either of them in weeks.
They don’t come home for long weekends, and they rarely reply to my texts in a timely manner.
Sometimes they don’t respond at all. We used to be so close, but over the past year and a half, I feel like I’ve lost them. The thought of it makes me sick.”
“Because of the drinking?” Nell asked gently.
Moira nodded. “They have seen me at my worst. In the first few months after Jeffrey died, they showed me grace and understood
how deeply I was grieving. But my grace period with them ended a while ago.”
“You will get them back, Mo. When they see the effort you’re putting in and your commitment to stay sober for them, you will
get them back. My daddy got me back, and even when I didn’t like him very much because of his actions and his addiction, I
still loved him. It’s the same with Tate, Taylor, and me. I embarrassed them so much with my drunken ramblings on social media
and my silly behavior when they had friends over, but they never gave up on me. We’re as close as ever,” Nell assured her.
“Your boys may seem distant right now, but they still love you, Mo. You are their mother—the same mother in all those beautiful
memories framed all over your house. You have not lost them, not for good. I promise you that.”
Moira stopped the tears before they streamed down her cheeks and said, “I hope so.”
“I was telling Erin this morning the story of Thomas in the Bible. You remember it?” Nell asked.
“Doubting Thomas?”
“Yeah.” Nell nodded. “He heard that Jesus had risen from the dead, but he still doubted it had happened. And he spent over a week doubting. But finally, Jesus appeared to him and told him to touch the wounds on his hands. You see that? Thomas had to reach out. He had to take action, effort. He reached out, placed his finger where the nails had been, and immediately, Thomas knew. His doubt was gone, and he worshiped the Lord. But he had to reach out. You’ve got to do your part, Mo. We all do.”
“I will,” Moira said. “I will.”
They looked at the marsh stretched out in front of them. The air seemed even thicker now with the smell of salt and earth,
and a few egrets silently stalked the shallow water. A breeze stirred the moss hanging in long veils from the branches above
them, swaying like it was alive and breathing.
Moira looked at Nell, whose red hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that bobbed slightly as she leaned back and took a sip
from her chipped mug, and said, “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I saw a light in my room one night last summer. It was just . . .
there. Like a flash, but soft and quiet. And I felt . . . I don’t know quite how to explain it. Contentment, I guess. The
kind I didn’t have to earn or chase after. It just settled on me, and then it was gone.”
Nell smiled. “You already know what I think it probably was. What do you think?”
Moira scoffed lightly, but not with conviction. “You think God’s in the business of indoor light shows?”
“I think he’s in the business of meeting people right where they are,” Nell said, soft but certain.
Moira closed her eyes for a second. “I wasn’t drinking, surprisingly. That’s what has stuck with me. I didn’t have a drop
that night. I was just lying there, completely sober and thinking about how I used to be someone’s wife. How I used to matter
to someone.”
Nell reached for her mug resting on the Adirondack arm as she said, “You still matter. And maybe that light was the Lord telling you just that. That he sees you and that you’re not forgotten. Maybe he knew, in that moment, you would believe a flash of light more than a whisper in your heart.”
Moira didn’t respond right away. She looked out at the marsh instead, blinking faster now to keep back tears. She finished
her last swallow of coffee and asked, “You think it’ll come back?”
“Maybe,” Nell said, “but even if it doesn’t, you saw it once. Maybe that’s all it took.”
The wind moved through the moss again, quiet and soft. The sun was setting a little lower now, warming their shoulders. For
the next hour, the two women rekindled their friendship on the edge of the marsh, both trying, in their own way, to believe
in light.
They finally moved inside to Moira’s kitchen, where they finished off the leftover pastries dusted with sugar. When their
stomachs were full and the coffeepot was empty, Moira noticed Nell check the gold and silver watch on her wrist.
“It’s getting late, Nell. You can go. I’m sorry for keeping you this long,” Moira said as she pushed the cats off her lap
and stood up, her bare feet touching the floor.
“I really don’t want to leave you,” Nell began.
“Honestly, I’m okay,” Moira replied. She gathered the empty coffeepot and plates from the table and walked to the sink. “I’m
going to keep myself busy for the rest of the afternoon. I might go for another run to work off that birthday cake and the
leftover bomboloni.”
“You won’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, will you? Why don’t we go ahead and pour out those bottles now, while
I’m still here?” Nell suggested.
“No, I’m fine, really,” Moira replied as she walked her friend to the front door, where Nell’s luggage was still sitting.
“I’m committed to praying for you. Maybe I’ll see you next Sunday?” Nell asked hopefully as she grabbed her bags and Moira
opened the front door for her.
“Maybe so.” Moira dipped her head. “I’m glad you came, Nell. You had no reason to show up, but you did. That means a lot to
me. And I’m glad we are, well, okay again.”
“Answered prayer, yeah?” Nell asked.
After Moira shut the heavy door behind Nell, Dove and Pearl rubbed their thick, furry bodies against Moira’s ankles, and she
let out a sigh.
“It’s just us again, girls,” she said to her feline friends, who looked up at her with wide, trusting eyes.
Moira walked farther into the house and sat down on the large, cozy sectional in the living room. She raked her hand across
the cushion that Erin had cleaned the night before and felt a twinge of shame. As she reflected on some of the conversations
from the weekend, she couldn’t help thinking that her best friends had carried the same emotional baggage for decades—could
they finally be set free from it? Would Gemma actually leave her emotionally abusive husband and commit to her weight-loss
goals? Would Celia Kate ever stop stressing out and waiting for the other shoe to drop? Could she be freed from her grief?
And could Erin find her confidence? Moira felt, for the first time, that it was possible if they listened to Nell’s advice
and looked to the Lord to fill their voids.