Page 37 of The Secrets We Keep

When his father spoke again, Jasper was surprised. “She loved you just as much as any of her own. Hell, youwereone of her own—sometimes it’s about more than blood to make a family. You know that, huh?”

Jasper was weeping, but wanted, who knew why, to withhold that fact from his dad. “Yeah, yeah.” He sniffed and drew in a deep breath. “Was it at least fast? Was there just a moment of surprise and then it was all over?” It wouldn’t occur to Jasper until much later that he’d repeated the dream words of his mother at that moment.

“I think it was. She was making one of her famous feasts. Everybody was there. It was a party. I like to think Louise is looking down now, glad she went the way she did, with people she loved, cooking for them. How could it possibly be any better?”

“That was her joy,” Jasper said. He refrained from commenting that the words his dad spoke were the most he’d heard him speak all at once in many years. It warmed Jasper’s heart to know Dad was trying, in his simple way, to comfort him.

Jasper blurted, “How are you? Doing okay?”

His father, again, was quiet for a long time. Jasper wondered if he was only imagining the sound of his father softly crying. “You know I’m sad. She was a big part of life. She wasbiggerthan life.” He chuckled. “In more ways than one.”

Jasper chuckled back. “That’s for sure.” He paused again. “When’s the funeral?”

His father drew in a deep breath. “That’s why I’ve been calling. I wanted to see if you could get back here in time. But son, I’m sorry, she’s already been laid to rest up at the cemetery on the hill.”

“Pleasant View?”

“That’s the one.”

Jasper felt a moment of rage—that he didn’t know, that he’d missed a chance to say goodbye, to see her, maybe, one last time. He would bet she’d clung to a Bible and a cross in her casket. The rage vanished quickly once he realized he had no one to direct it toward, save himself.

Jasper realized they’d run out of things to talk about. This was the way it always was. Information imparted. Absorbed. And then it was time to move on.

“Okay, Dad. Everything else okay?”

“Sure. Same old, same old. They’re putting in a Walmart out by the highway.”

“How about that?” Jasper said, and then his mind went blank, so he simply added, “You take care.”

“You too.”

Jasper was about to hang up when his dad said, “Jasper?”

“Yeah?”

His dad paused again, as though to gather up the courage to say what was coming. “I love you, son,” he said in a rush.

And Jasper was stunned. He’d never heard these words before. He was sure of it. He almost hung up. But just as rushed, he said the words back. “Love you too.”

Then he hung up, very quickly.

He was trembling.

JASPER SPENTa long time in the shower after the call. He simply let the hot water cascade over him as he tried to absorb the loss of the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his second mother. How did he manage to have such lousy luck as to lose not one, but two moms in the course of his young life? He could believe the universe had decided he had no need for a mother at all.

He recalled Louise, who, it seemed, always sat in her gold, brown, and maple kitchen. Even when she watched TV, she never went into the living room where the big color set was, but instead would station herself at the round kitchen table and watch her stories on a little portable on a hutch across from her.

He imagined himself leaning over her on the floor of that kitchen, leaning close to her freckled face with its broad nose and full lips, and kissing her one last time before she expired. Telling her he loved her with all of his heart.

He liked to believe she knew, even now.

He didn’t know, really, how to come to terms with her passing. He had a feeling that time wouldn’t come until he returned to southern Illinois someday, when he could visit her grave. He’d put flowers—lilies, her favorite—on it and talk to her for a while, letting her know all the ways she’d made a difference in his life and how much he loved her.

And then came the thought of his dad telling him he loved him. That was amazing, a true first, but Jasper still felt numb. In shock, he supposed, over Louise’s passing and the fact that he’d actually uttered words Jasper had longed to hear all his life.

When he was done, he took his time drying off. Standing in the living room in a pair of worn flannel boxers, he noticed how bright the sunlight was that day—as though spring had finally arrived and was announcing its presence with gilded illumination. The rays coming in through the big windows were golden shafts, piercing through any kind of darkness hanging heavy in the apartment.

He sat down on the couch and wondered if he should call Rob or not. There was a big part of him that wanted to comfort himself by crawling back into bed, turning on the TV, and bingeing on the old movies he adored. Maybe something directed by Douglas Sirk or Howard Hawks or Frank Capra. He’d finish up the Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer. He’d sleep. Wake up and repeat the whole self-indulgent process.