Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-two
Gabe held Iris’s hand in the car as they left the funeral service and headed to Jacob’s parents’ house for the reception.
Only they weren’t in his hot shop van like they’d initially planned, but in the back seat of Wolff’s Mercedes with Esdras driving.
When Iris had notified Marilyn that she would be unavailable Friday due to a family funeral, the next communication she received was a text from Esdras informing her that he would be at her service to take her and any friends or family members wherever they needed to go.
The next morning, a three-foot-tall vase of calla lilies from Jonathan was delivered to her apartment.
But it was Gabe who had made the difference on the day, providing an oasis of calm and steady companionship.
He looked as clean-cut as he could, wearing a simple black suit and his hair in a low, neat ponytail like an artist’s brush.
It was an unusual support system Iris had cobbled together—a new barely-boyfriend and a generous quasi-boss—but she would take what she could get.
Iris hadn’t been to her aunt Beth and uncle Clay’s house in twenty years, which sounded weird when she said it to Gabe.
She knew her maternal grandparents tried spending Thanksgiving together exactly once, when Iris was about thirteen, a bleary memory that Jacob had turned up late and probably high, and Iris recalled that she had thrown up after dinner, so they didn’t stay overnight as planned.
Iris remembered lying down across the back seat of their station wagon, sick to her stomach, while her grandmother reached back to hold her hand from the passenger seat. They never went back.
As they pulled up today, the house looked smaller and shabbier than she had remembered. It was a single-level ranch house in need of a fresh coat of paint, with a faded American flag fluttering over the porch. Iris noticed a For Sale sign on top of the mailbox.
“I’m afraid I’m not going to be very good at introducing you to people. I haven’t been back in so long.” She didn’t want to say she didn’t remember her own relatives’ names, but it was the truth.
Gabe gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m here for you .”
—
They entered the small house packed with mourners.
Iris felt ashamed to recognize so few of the faces, especially as many were elated to see “Johnny’s girl.
” Iris was a living memento of the family’s golden boy, her late father, John Sunnegren, but she hadn’t seen most of them since she was ten.
Luckily Gabe was marvelous at introducing himself first, eliciting the other person’s name, and thus allowing Iris to go in gracefully for a familiar, name-knowing hug: “Deirdre, good to see you.”
Deirdre, an older woman with feathered short hair, identified herself as a distant cousin “on the Irish side” and cooed over Iris, “Oh, it’s like looking right at Johnny’s face again.
Those cheekbones! You know I taught him how to drive stick.
He was so bright, he didn’t need me. I remember sitting in the passenger seat, looking at his profile thinking, this boy is going places.
” She flipped the page of a photo album set out for the occasion.
“And I loved your mother, Amy. From the day I met her, I knew they’d get married.
They were a perfect match, like cake toppers.
” She tapped a pink nail over a wedding photo of her parents that Iris hadn’t seen before.
Iris’s heart swelled when she looked at them.
Her father was tall and broad-shouldered, she had him to thank for her height, though she would rather have had her mother’s petite figure.
He had classic dark Irish looks, nearly black hair, blue eyes, fair skin with few freckles, and looked dashing in a tux.
Her mother was a Jersey girl, golden tan with sun-streaked chestnut hair and brown eyes.
On her wedding day she looked fresh-faced with her hair pulled back in a barrette.
Iris blinked back a tear; they looked so young, early twenties.
She was glad they had found each other early—they didn’t have much time.
Deirdre muttered, “Wish Beth had made a better match, but she never did listen to anybody.”
“I saw the For Sale sign, are Beth and Clay moving?”
“Such a shame. My son helped them take out a second mortgage just last year. Clay thought that contracting work would pick back up, but…” Deirdre tsk ed . “Beth is hoping they can move closer to Maria-Elena and the baby. But they’d be lucky to break even on what they owe.”
The baby? But Iris didn’t want to reveal further how poorly she’d kept up with their family news. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t know they were struggling.”
“Forgive me for saying it, but how could they not?” Deirdre peered over her glasses.
“Jacob’s treatment—all those years of rehabs and sober living?
Whoo —it all but bankrupted them. I told her, let him go to jail and dry out there.
But you know Beth, such a softie, she couldn’t let him hit rock bottom. She loved him too much.”
“That’s heartbreaking,” Iris said, meaning it.
—
They circulated a bit more before Gabe sussed out the potluck dishes: pasta salad, chicken salad, tuna salad, and slices of watermelon being sampled by a housefly or two. Iris wasn’t hungry. She was getting herself a cup of coffee from the samovar when a large man tapped her shoulder.
“I hear you’re Iris.” The man put out a hand. “Phil. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Phil, thanks, you too.”
“I was Jacob’s sponsor. I wish he had called me that night, I coulda been there for him.”
She shook her head, wanting to absolve his guilt. “He struggled for so long.”
“He told me about you. It gave him comfort to know you were doing so well.”
Was she doing so well? Iris thought, before catching herself.
Of course she was, compared to Jacob, who had never pulled himself out of the trauma of the fire, the addiction.
Her life might not be where she wanted it, but she scolded herself for taking it for granted, especially here.
“Jacob and I lost touch, which I regret. I was so young when the fire happened, and afterward I moved away to live with my grandparents. Not to make excuses.” Iris took a tight breath.
“I could never repay what he did for me. He gave me the chance to live my life. I hope he knew how grateful I was. I should have told him more often.”
“Don’t.” Phil shook his head. “He was the one who should’ve reached out. But I never could get him to truly work the program, he had some demons he couldn’t stare down. What I hope you know is that what happened wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you.” Iris noticed Beth looking at her from across the room and thought, If only everyone agreed with you, Phil . “I see my aunt Beth, I should give her my condolences. It was nice meeting you, thank you for all you did for Jacob.”
He gave a nod and dumped four packets of sugar into his coffee.
Iris was making her way to Beth when she spotted Gabe on the floor by the entrance to the kitchen, kneeling before an elderly woman with a walker. She approached and realized he was replacing one of her walker’s tennis ball feet.
“He’s nice to have around,” the elderly woman said to Iris in a quavery voice.
“Isn’t he?” Iris smiled.
“I’m your great-aunt Cecilia. You used to visit my house when your parents lived in Narberth. Do you remember?”
“Oh, sure.” Iris didn’t, not in the slightest. “It’s good to see you.”
“You were very young, you probably don’t. But you were the sweetest little girl. I would serve you rainbow sherbet, and you loved it so much, I made sure to always have some in the freezer, in case your daddy brought you by.”
Iris’s polite smile slackened with recognition.
Her mind was flooded by the sense memory of swirling raspberry, orange, and green sherbet slipping off an ice-cold silver spoon.
She had never had that dessert before or since, but she could almost taste it now.
And the nostalgia for the period of her childhood that felt truly carefree put a lump in her throat. “Aunt Sissy?”
Aunt Sissy nodded and beamed up at her, as much as her stooped back would let her, and she opened her frail arms for an embrace. Iris had to stop herself from hugging the tiny woman too tight, but she was overcome with emotion, surprisingly, for the first time that day.
—
At last Iris spotted Beth again. “This is the hard one,” she said to Gabe with a heavy exhale. “Jacob’s mother.”
“You got this.”
They crossed the room to see her, and Iris exchanged hugs and condolences with her aunt and introduced Gabe, who offered his sympathy as well.
“He’s up there with Johnny now.” Beth pointed up and her bloodshot eyes looked heavenward. “I know your dad is giving him a hero’s welcome for saving his little girl.”
Iris had no memory of Beth in which she did not bring up her debt to Jacob. Iris knew she blamed her for her son’s addiction, and now death. It barely got to Iris anymore, she just felt numb.
Gabe put a hand on Iris’s back. “You know, in the Jewish faith they say, to save one life is to save the world entire.”
“You’re Jewish?” Beth regarded him quizzically.
“No, I just always thought it was a beautiful proverb.”
“I haven’t seen Uncle Clay yet,” Iris said.
“Outside on the porch. It’s too much for him.” Beth choked up again. But she saw someone over Iris’s shoulder who seemed to make her brighten. She beckoned them to come over. “Have you met Jacob’s fiancée, Maria?”
Iris didn’t know Jacob had been engaged. But a young Latina woman who was quite pregnant approached them. She was beautiful and petite, making her belly look even larger.
“Nice to meet you, Maria, I’m Iris, Jacob’s cousin. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“It’s Maria-Elena,” the woman corrected as she shook Iris’s hand. “Thank you, same to you.”