Chapter Five
Wednesday afternoon Maisy left the jewelry store early to drive her grandmother to buy groceries and do any other errands she had in mind.
What might seem like an inconvenient task to others was the opposite for Maisy.
She enjoyed spending time with her Grams. They’d always been close.
Besides, driving her grandmother wherever she needed to go was one small way of showing her appreciation for gifting Maisy her little Fiesta.
Sean had his truck, old and beat-up as it was, and their mom had the family car, which left Maisy without a vehicle until Grams insisted Maisy take hers.
Grams didn’t need it nearly as much as Maisy did.
The car was a leftover from when Maisy’s youngest uncle was in college.
When Maisy arrived at the senior complex, she found her grandmother ready and eager to head out.
Maisy noticed that the stack of pennies outside her door had become a small tower.
It seemed Grams’s admirer hadn’t let her lack of enthusiasm discourage him.
She hoped Lloyd’s persistence would soon wear her grandmother down.
In her opinion, no one was ever too old for a bit of romance.
Her grandmother withdrew the shopping list from her purse and then glanced up. She frowned slightly. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?” she asked, holding Maisy’s gaze.
Her Grams had always been able to read her, so the question shouldn’t have surprised Maisy.
Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to put Chase Furst out of her mind.
She couldn’t help wondering if he had followed through with her request to pay the kindness forward.
If that wasn’t enough, his complete disregard for his mother continued to trouble her.
She hated the thought of this woman’s life and death being ignored by her family.
“It’s that man I met at the airport,” Maisy admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about his claim that his mother meant nothing to him. I don’t believe it, I just don’t.”
“Of course she did,” Grams agreed. “Think about it. He could easily have made any burial arrangements from Chicago, and yet he chose to fly to Seattle to attend to the details personally.”
Her grandmother was right.
“If Chase had no feelings whatsoever for her, why was he so upset? He tried to hide it behind his frustration and bad mood, but I suspect there was far more to his feelings than he was willing to acknowledge.”
“I agree,” her Grams said.
“But he refused to even attend her services. From what he said, it’s likely no one will be there.”
“Then we should go,” Grams stated emphatically.
“Really? Us?” To be honest, Maisy had considered this herself.
“Yes, us. If this matter has been on your mind all this time, then you need to act on it.”
“Is it appropriate?” Maisy asked, thinking out loud. “I know next to nothing about this woman other than what Chase mentioned.”
“It’s always right to honor the life of someone who has passed. If it’s unlikely any family will attend, then we will be her family.”
“Let’s do it.” This was all the encouragement Maisy needed.
“When are her services?”
Because the matter had weighed on her mind, Maisy had checked online earlier that morning. “As it happens, her celebration of life takes place this afternoon,” Maisy said.
“Then our timing is perfect.”
Once at the local grocery store where Grams preferred to shop, she took out her list and the coupons she’d clipped. Maisy used the app on her phone to add to the super buys for that week. Once the list was complete, her grandmother pushed the cart toward the card aisle.
“We need a sympathy card,” she said.
“We do?”
“It’s the right thing to do, Maisy.”
“Who’s going to read it?” To her way of thinking, a card was a waste of money and cards were expensive. Flowers would be more appropriate, but the expense wasn’t in her budget.
“It doesn’t matter,” Grams insisted. “If we’re going to do this, we need to look like we belong.”
This made little sense to Maisy, but she went along with it, insisting on paying for the card herself.
When they arrived at the funeral home there were a few other cars parked in the lot, which came as a pleasant surprise.
“It doesn’t seem Michelle was as much of a loner as you were led to believe,” her grandmother commented.
Once inside, they found their way to the chapel area. Maisy and her grandmother slipped into the last pew just as the service started. Counting heads, Maisy came up with a total of twenty-five attendees.
The eulogy was poignant. It seemed the minister, who introduced himself as Pastor Jameson, was well into his seventies.
He appeared well acquainted with Michelle and spoke highly of her work with the children in the church’s Sunday school.
Michelle, he claimed, had a deep love for these little ones.
He mentioned the years of loss Michelle had suffered due to alcoholism and the changes that had come about in her life since.
When he finished, Maisy noticed several of those attending had tears in their eyes.
This was certainly not the picture Chase had painted of his mother.
When the pastor finished, he looked over the small assembly. “Is there anyone who would like to say a few words?”
A short uncomfortable silence followed before a woman in the front row stood.
Pastor Jameson motioned her forward.
Maisy could tell the woman was nervous. Her mouth trembled and she clenched her hands together to the point that it looked painful.
“Hi,” she said, her voice so weak Maisy had to strain to hear her.
“My name is Sandy. Michelle was my sponsor and helped me gain sobriety. Like Michelle, I buried my pain in a bottle for several years. She was the one who gave me the courage to believe in myself with the help of God. I’d tried for years to quit drinking, failing again and again.
I’ll always be grateful for the support, encouragement, and love she gave me. ”
Having spoken her piece, Sandy hurriedly returned to her seat. Maisy could see the tears raining down Sandy’s cheeks.
After Sandy spoke, several others seemed willing to share their experiences. An older woman who introduced herself as Gwen stood.
“Michelle was instrumental in saving my life,” she said in a voice that was rusty after what must have been years of heavy tobacco use. Everything about the way the woman spoke and looked revealed that she’d lived a hard life.
“For reasons I’ll never understand, Michelle took me under her wing,” Gwen said, her voice grating and strong.
“I didn’t want her friendship, didn’t need it.
The only companion and friend I had was alcohol.
We were best buds for nearly my entire life.
Michelle told me it didn’t need to be that way.
I didn’t believe her, but then she told me her own story; although it was nothing like mine, we were both addicted to the bottle.
That she was able to break free made me listen to what she had to say.
“I’ll admit that, like other addicts, I’d tried to give up the booze.
Any sobriety I managed never lasted more than a couple of days before I was back to drinking and glad of it.
Alcohol was more than a drink. It was everything, and I craved it.
I needed it if I was going to make it through the night.
I decided this was the way it would always be until I met Michelle. ”
She paused momentarily and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.
“At first, I wasn’t interested in all the talk about asking God for help.
Thought it was some kind of cruel joke. I scoffed at having a higher power.
That was nothing more than empty words to me.
Michelle ignored my skepticism and challenged me to give God a chance.
I laughed. Frankly, I didn’t think God or anyone else would be interested in helping a weakling like me. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Looking to God to find sobriety was a pipe dream as far as I was concerned. He wasn’t interested in me or my life. If God was real, then why had He given me over to physical and mental abuse for as long as I could remember? Why did He give me a mother who neither cared nor loved me?
“How Michelle managed to convince me to attend AA I’ll never know.
She offered me a glimmer of hope, and I reached out for it.
I attended thirty meetings in thirty days, with Michelle at my side, and before I knew how it was even possible, I had an entire month of sobriety.
That was the longest stretch I’d ever had.
On the night of the thirtieth meeting, you’d think I’d be at my strongest, only I wasn’t.
I was driving home and the urge for a drink was so strong I knew I’d never be able to resist.
“I was on the freeway, heading straight to my favorite tavern. Nothing was going to stop me. The bartender was as close as I had to a friend. The battle inside my head was raging. I wanted a drink. I didn’t want a drink.
Just thinking about how good a shot of whiskey would taste had my mouth watering.
Driving down the freeway, I knew I would give in the way I always had.
The choice had already been decided. This was my fate.
“In a moment of desperation, I cried out to God, asking Him if He was real the way Michelle insisted, and if He was, then He needed to help me. What happened next is hard to believe, even for me.”
She paused and chuckled, shaking her head in wonder as though even now she didn’t understand it.
“I missed the exit. I drove straight past it like it wasn’t even there.
I knew the way to that dive bar as well as I did to my own house.
I couldn’t believe it. I was stunned. That was the night I realized I could remain sober.
God answering the frantic cry of a lost soul was the turning point for me.
I thank God and Michelle for ten years of sobriety.
I have a decent job and a life I never thought was possible.
I believe I was destined to die before I was forty if it hadn’t been for Michelle. ”
Maisy turned to her grandmother, amazed at the things she was hearing. Two more people stood up to speak, each with glowing praise for Michelle. At the end of the service Pastor Jameson said there would be a small luncheon served in the church basement.
“The ladies of the church have supplied the meal. Many of them would have liked to attend the service themselves, as Michelle was loved by all. They stayed behind to make sure everything was ready. You’re all invited.”
“We should go with the others,” Grams whispered, when the priest finished speaking.
“Really?” Maisy asked, surprised. “To the church?” she clarified. Her grandmother might be suggesting they hightail it out of there to avoid answering any questions.
“Some of my favorite recipes came from attending funerals,” she whispered enthusiastically.
“Grams!” Maisy did her best to hold back her amusement.
“I’m not kidding,” she continued. “There’s a whole cookbook of funeral recipes. I have one.”
Noticing several stares coming their way, Maisy was a little uncomfortable. People were curious about her, and with good reason. They seemed to know she was a stranger to Michelle.
By the time Maisy and her grandmother arrived at St. Mary’s, there was already a line of people at the buffet table.
They each took a plate. The selection of salads and desserts was impressive.
The group was large, with many others attending who hadn’t been at the service.
Children raced around the floor and Maisy believed these must be from the Sunday school classes Pastor Jameson had mentioned during Michelle’s eulogy.
Grams chose to sit at a table with Sandy, the woman who’d spoken first at the service. Maisy followed behind.
“Hello,” Grams said cheerfully, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.
“Hello,” Sandy replied, and smiled shyly.
“I’m Bill,” the man sitting next to Sandy said.
They all introduced themselves.
“How did you know Michelle?” Sandy asked, looking to Grams.
“I didn’t. It’s my granddaughter here who knows her son.”
Bill’s eyes widened. “You know Chase?” he asked, as though astonished.
He immediately got to his feet and led Gwen and a couple of other people from the celebration of life to the table.
He reclaimed his seat, and the others pulled chairs from nearby and squeezed in around the table.
They all made Maisy the focus of their attention.
Maisy swallowed uncomfortably. “I don’t really know Chase. I met him only one time in the airport.”
“So he did make an appearance,” Gwen mused aloud.
“He came to make the funeral arrangements. I…I drove him when his car service was canceled. I will say what he told me about his mother is nothing like what I heard today.” It saddened her that Chase hadn’t known his mother the way these people did.
“Michelle tried countless times to reach him,” Bill mentioned.
“The way he ignored all her letters is a shame,” Sandy added.
“When all else failed, Michelle phoned his office and was told by his assistant that Chase wanted nothing more to do with her and to not call again,” Gwen said with a frown. “I’d like to get my hands on that young man and tell him a thing or two.”
“Chase Furst is the one who missed out,” Grams inserted. “He hurt himself as much as his mother.”
The others nodded in agreement.
All Maisy felt was a deepening sense of loss for the wonderful relationship Chase might have had with his mother if he’d been willing to forgive her for abandoning him.
“These funeral potatoes are the best I’ve ever had,” Grams said. “I’m going to see if I can find who made them and discover what she did to make them so good.”
Maisy grinned as her grandmother excused herself and went in search of the recipe.
Immediately, Maisy was plied with questions about what she knew about Chase. Sadly, the questions were ones she couldn’t answer.